I’m so screwed.
Of all the times to start developing feelings for someone—of all the people—Blake shouldn’t be it. And it definitely shouldn’t be now. I mean, he looks like he could almost be my father, for crying out loud. I’ve been trapped in this twenty-four-year-old body forever—and he’s gotta be at least thirty-five … maybe pushing forty? As if the people in this small, godforsaken town don’t already think I’m weird, do I really want to add that to the mix?
I suppose I’ve managed to convince people I’m going on twenty-seven, but their complacency isn’t gonna last long.
They’ll start asking questions soon, like they always do — Wow, Diana hasn’t aged a day. Isn’t that weird?
Then I’ll have to find an excuse as to why I need to go. Sick grandma…Mom died. Best friend’s husband left her, and I need to help her raise her three kids. Whatever you can think of—I’ve used it.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Blake asks, crashing through my train of thought.
“Uhm, nothing much,” I say, breathlessly.
I bite my lower lip and look out the passenger side window.
“Are your cheeks flushing?”
My hand instinctively flies upward.
“No, of course not. Why would they be?”
Blake laughs. “You tell me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snort, shaking my head.
“Oh, so now I’m the ridiculous one.”
I smile, “You’re always the ridiculous one.”
“So says the self-proclaimed psychic.”
“Indeed. So, I should know better.”
“How in the hell does that work?”
“Uh, because I said so.”
“Ah, so woman logic.”
“No, just logic—logic, you chauvinistic pig,” I say, laughing.
He shoots me another glance, his lips curving upward in the most easy-going way. The flecks of green and gold in his dark brown eyes sparkle—and I swear for a moment, his gaze could stop time.
How in the hell am I going to make this work? I mean—we’re not on a date or about to go on holiday. We’re hunting for pedophiles and hoping to put them out of commission. This is serious business.
Sitting up a bit straighter, I put on my best professional mojo.
“Blake why do you think the men chose to go to Italy? Do you think there's something special about that country? Or do you think there’s some other reason?” I say, trying to bring the subject back to the matter at hand.
Blake’s smile fades and he shakes his head.
“I’m not sure. We just need to follow the leads and let the story unravel itself.”
I bite my lip. “Do you think they have any other girls with them?”
Taking a deep sigh, Blake’s shoulders sag, “At this point, I’d say it’s pretty likely. They got out of the country pretty damn quick. My guess is they have different rings around the world. Probably bailed on the US ring to avoid apprehension.”
“Uh—I hate to think of other kids being taken. You know nothing good can come of it. I just can't fathom—”
I turn away, shuddering from the thoughts. Even after all these years, I still don’t get it.
Unfortunately, I totally can fathom.
Men haven't changed a whole helluva lot over the centuries.
“The good news is, we're on to these assholes. If they do have others, at least there’s that. We can save them the way we saved Esther.”
“I sure as hell hope so,” I whisper. A shudder runs up my spine.
“See, there it is.”
“There what is?” I say, turning to face him.
“The real you,” he says.
“Oh, shut up.”
He grins a lop-sided, goofy grin.
I roll my eyes and sigh.
Adjusting in my seat, I bite my lip and look out the window. Trees and houses flicker past, each blending into the next until suburbia is overrun with the urban landscape of the big city.
We sit in silence until we reach the airport jungle of a parking lot. Blake pulls us into the long-term parking area and I reach for my purse.
“Ready for this?” Blake says, shutting off the Rover and unbuckling his seat belt.
“Yup. Let’s get some bad guys,” I say, nodding.
It’s been ages since I last took an international flight, but I can tell you one thing—things have certainly changed over the years. For starters, they serve alcohol in-flight, there’s wifi, and tiny TVs on the headrest in front of you.
Talk about small miracles.
In some strange way, it feels like I’m returning home. I don’t really know where my place of origin truly is, but overseas was certainly where I started my journey. At least the part I can remember.
After trying for years to uncover my past—or remember who I was or why I can’t remember anything, I finally had to give up and start living my life. I figured, if I have eternity, there was no point in standing still.
Blake shifts in his seat, though clearly at ease on a plane. Something tells me his past as ex military has something to do with it.
I, on the other hand, am on my third drink and feeling nice and loopy.
Technology and I aren’t overly on speaking terms. It doesn’t matter if its planes, cellphones, or even cars. I’m still pissed my 1968 Camaro died a decade ago and I had to upgrade to my Prius.
Human concepts are fallible and through the years, I’ve just learned to avoid common pitfalls by not joining in when I can. In some ways it’s stupid though. It’s not as if I can die—but yet, the process of not dying when you should totally sucks.
“Would you like another?” the stewardess asks, pointing to my empty plastic cup.
“Yes, please,” I say without hesitation, handing her the empty cup.
Blake chuckles, “Not a big fan of flying, are you?”
I twist uncomfortably in my seat, “Not overly.”
“I can tell,” he says, pointing to the full cup being handed back to me.
“If you’d seen as much as I have, you’d be nervous, too.”
I take another deep swig, letting the cool, bubbly texture flood my senses.
“Right, all those psychic premonitions flooding your mind,” he says, nodding.
“Actually, that wasn’t what I was meaning—but sure, that too.”
A small hiccup escapes my lips and I cover them with my middle and pointer finger.
Blake raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.
I fight the sudden, overwhelming urge to tell him everything—the immortality, the years and years of experiences.
Everything.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it’s only the alcohol talking, and I’d regret it if I did.
“What’s our first plan of action when we get to Italy?” I ask, swishing around the contents in the cup.
“I suppose get set up in the hotel, check in with Aiden to see if he has any new leads, and… I don’t know, see if you get any sorta read on things.”
I nod, keeping my eyes fixed on my drink.
Yeah, certain amount of sense there.
I blank out for a moment, considering his words. I cock my head to the side, making a face.
I haven’t had a single read on things since we got on the plane. Not one.
Usually, I get snippets here and there—but this time—nothing.
Casting my gaze to the aisle, I sit up straighter.
“Everything okay? You’re not going to be sick are you?” Blake asks, suddenly serious.
“No,” I shake my head. “At least, I don’t think so. No, it’s just—I’m not picking up anything on the plane. In fact, I haven’t gotten anything since we got on board. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I got a reading on anything.”
“You know, if you’re just trying to cop out so you can’t prove me wrong, you can just say so,” he smirks.
“Shut up. It’s not that,” I say, smacking his shoulder with the back
of my left hand.
“Look, there’s been a lot going on. A lot to digest and take in. Maybe your senses—or whatever you want to call ‘em are on overload.”
“Maybe.”
“Give it until we’re settled in at the hotel. Then, if things are still not working out, you can freak.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Well, you are on your fifth drink,” Blake says, his eyes twinkling.
“This is my fourth, thank you very much,” I say, holding my chin up higher. “I still know how to count.”
Blake squints, shaking his head and pursing his lips.
My mouth drops open.
“Five? Really?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, well. Bottoms up,” I say, downing the contents.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. Time to get off the plane.”
My eyes fly open and I instinctively wipe at my mouth.
“Holy shit. Where are we?” I say, shaking away the cobwebs. Instantly, I regret it. My brain thuds against my skull, making the world spin.
“Ugh.”
I close my eyes, raising my hands to either side of my head.
Blake chuckles, patting me on the shoulder.
“We landed a couple of minutes ago and we’re just waiting for the seatbelt light to turn off,” Blake says.
“Oh my god, why did you let me drink so much?” I mumble.
“I don’t think it was a matter of ‘let,’ Diana. You’re a big girl,” he casts a knowing look, “who apparently can’t handle her alcohol.”
I groan.
“I don’t remember the last time I had a drink. It’s been … years.”
“Well, that would explain the lack of control.”
I pop one eye open and glare at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The seatbelt light clicks off and a loud dinging broadcasts over the speakers.
“Welcome to Rome. The weather outside is 46 degrees and sunny. You’re now free to unbuckle your seatbelts and make your way to the front exit,” the perky flight attendant announces.
“Saved by the bell,” I say shooting Blake a sideways glance.
He quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over me to open the overhead compartment. I shift back in my seat, all too aware how close his torso and nether regions are to my face. The thought makes me squirm in my seat.
“You know—I could have gotten our stuff,” I say, clearing my throat.
Blake looks down with a crooked eyebrow.
“Have you stood up yet?” he asks, sarcasm dripping from his words.
“Don’t be a dumbass. You know I haven’t.”
“Well, I figured I’d save you the uncoordinated attempt as you try to get your land legs back.”
He drops my carry-on in my lap and throws his over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
I feel like I’m swimming in space and time. Light from the cabin meshes around me in strange swirls and I close my eyes again.
It was a bad idea to drink.
After a few minutes, the doors open and a mad dash exodus occurs. I stay in my seat, refusing to budge until the last person has been herded from the innards.
“I think it’s safe to go now,” Blake says, gently reaching under my arm and lifting me to stand.
He’s right—standing is worse than sitting and I rock slightly from side to side, trying to awkwardly stay vertical.
I hate that he’s right—this whole standing thing sucks.
Stumbling down the aisle with Blake dragging me along, I can’t help but long for somewhere flat to rest.
“She’ll be okay. She’s with me,” I hear him say.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Hate flying,” I say, trying to sound more aware than I feel.
“Welcome to Rome,” the flight attendant says, shaking her head.
A coffee pot whirrs to life as it grinds beans somewhere nearby.
My eyes fly open and I bolt upright.
The blankets fall to my lap, revealing my torso in all its undergarmented glory.
“Why am I in my underwear? Where are the rest of my clothes?” I screech, clutching the blankets and pulling them close to my chest.
“The maid service has them,” Blake says unfazed, stirring sugar into a coffee cup.
“Why—?”
“Because you threw up on them in the Taxi and I figured you wouldn’t appreciate sleeping in regurgitated stomach acid.”
My eyebrows tug in and I make a face.
Great impression, Diana.
“Oh,” I sigh. “Well—ah—thanks.”
“Don’t worry—I didn’t look. Much,” he grins, walking to me and handing the cup over.
“Wonderful,” I glare back, taking the offering.
“They should be back here soon,” he says.
“Where’s our luggage? I could just change—”
Blake shakes his head.
“It didn’t make it. The airline’s looking for our stuff. Guess you had the right idea.”
“See? See—this is why I pack light,” I say, flipping my hand up.
“Just as well, anyway. Once we got threw Customs—thanks for holding it together until then at least—you pretty much turned into a jellyfish. I didn’t know how the hell I was gonna get you back here—and have to deal with the luggage on top of it.”
I clutch the hair on the side of my head, “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just—I don’t do well with flying, or cars— It all makes me really anxious.”
“Funnily enough, I did catch onto that.”
I run my hand over my face.
What a mess.
“How long was I out?” I ask.
“Not super long—long enough to sleep it off, though, I’m hoping.”
“Okay, Mr. Cryptic. Wanna be more specific?”
“Well, it took some time to finagle you to a taxi… You weren’t entirely with it. You know? So, I suppose, thirteen hours. Give or take.”
“Holy shit—what? First of all, why the hell would you let me sleep that long? Second of all, how freaking slow are the maids at this place?”
“It took us a couple hours to get here. I had to get you…ah, situated—then checked in with Aiden. I slept for about five hours and now, here we are. Aiden’s just gotten a lead, so I figured it was time to get you up and moving.”
“Shit,” I mutter, sipping my coffee tentatively to test its temperature. The sugar content and milk are almost perfect.
I blink up at him, surprised he can make a cup of coffee this good.
“Don’t worry—it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“I’m such a dunce. I’m so sorry, Blake. I never should have put you in that position,” I say, biting my lip.
“It’s no big. Really. We’d just be getting going now, anyway.”
I close my eyes and ignore the thumping at the back of my head.
“You said—you mentioned Aiden has a lead?”
“Yeah, if it pans out, we won’t be staying here long.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, taking another sip of coffee. My senses and wits are returning to me after the idiotic booze haze.
“His facial recognition system caught something in Greece. One or more of the men are there and it looks as though they’re getting comfortable. They must have bailed on the U.S. girls to move a different group here. I suppose it makes sense if they were worried about being apprehended. If we’re careful, we might be able to move in on them where they feel safe.”
“That’s—that’s great news,” I say, my eyes widening slightly.
Greece.
A knock at the door makes me jump.
“Room service,” the voice says on the other side.
“Ah—drat. Must be your clothes,” Blake says with a mock frown, then winking. He walks to the door and opens it just wide enough for his body to block the doorway.
“Thank you. Much appreciated,” he says, handin
g the woman on the other side some money before he closes the door.
He turns around, smiling triumphantly.
“Just in the nick of time,” he grins, clutching my clothes to his body.
“Wonderful,” I say, holding my left arm out for them.
“Uh uh,” he says, quirking an eyebrow.
“Blake,” I warn, “don’t be a creeper. Give me my clothes.”
“Oh, I will. But first—I have some questions.”
I roll my eyes.
Leave it to a man to blackmail a woman with her own clothing.
Chapter 14
BLAKE STANDS FEET from me, holding my clothes just outside of lunging distance.
I consider reaching for them anyway. It’s not like he hasn’t seen the goods already. And honestly—after all these years, the last thing I have is an over-abundance of pride for human nakedness.
“What questions?” I say, letting curiosity get the better of me.
Blake narrows his eyes and chews gently on the side of his lip.
I cock an eyebrow and sigh loudly as I place my coffee down on the nightstand.
“Okay, okay. I’m trying to—I don’t know. I need to trust you and I just—I waffle back and forth.”
“You sound like a breakfast food. Would you just spit out what you want to say?”
“Fine,” he says, nodding. “Truth—how did you really know about my relationship with Aiden. He told you, right?”
I shake my head. Until I have the chance to really show him what I can do—he’s not going to believe me.
Why would he, I suppose? I wouldn’t either.
“Look Blake, I get this doesn’t fit in your world view, but I am exactly who I say I am. I pick things up—I always have and probably always will. Don’t ask me why I don’t get a read off you because I don’t know. You are literally the first person this has ever happened with. The first. The only. In my whole life. At first, I thought it was nice—a breath of fresh air after having to constantly ward myself. But now, hell, I wish I did pick up on your shit because it’s driving me a little bit nuts.”
Blake’s eyes widen, then narrow.
“Can you—I dunno how this stuff works, but can you shut if off when you want?” he asks.
“Did you hear me when I said the warding bit?” I say. “I know we talked about that when we first met, so don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
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