In The Dark (The Guardianship Trilogy Book 1)

by Sarah K. Jensen

  “Good night, my lady.” Callan chuckled and hung up.

  As she set the phone on the coffee table, Memphis thought about the other knight she’d met just an hour before. Heavens to Betsy, she had never had to fight so hard for control.

  What was it about him that drew her in and pushed all her buttons? She had thought for sure Callan’s father had eliminated any feelings of desire she’d had years ago, but Laif Craig had come along and ruined things in one swift moment. And Memphis knew it had nothing to do with the similarities between Laif and Jacob. If anything, those likenesses would send her running.

  The smell of cooking hamburger and mesquite filled the air causing Bryson’s mouth to water. Laif groaned as he flipped the burgers on the grill. “I’ve lost my mind.”

  Bryson grinned, loving the completely unnatural mood his brother had been in for the past two weeks. At first, it had gotten on his nerves, but since he’d realized it was because of a woman, Bryson had come to enjoy his little brother’s misery.

  Bryson Craig leaned back in his lawn chair, sipped a nice, tall glass of mint limeade, and said, “It would probably help if you talked about it, instead of just stewing like you’ve been doing.”

  “I’m not stewing,” Laif growled. “I’m thinking.”

  Bryson bit back a laugh. “Out with it. What’s her name?”

  “Memphis,” Laif sighed. He actually sighed her name. Yeah, little bro had it bad.

  Obviously, Laif wasn’t going to hand out info without prompting, and since Bryson was so good at getting the information he wanted out of people, he started the interrogation. “What does she look like?”

  “Sin.”

  Now that was interesting. “Want to elaborate?”

  Laif looked up like he’d just noticed Bryson was outside with him. “Did I say that out loud?”

  With a laugh that couldn’t be held back, Bryson nodded.

  “Crap.” Laif rubbed a hand over his face before he placed the cooked burgers on the waiting plate. “Take these in while I shut down the grill,” Laif said.

  Bryson stood, grabbed the plate from Laif’s hand, and went toward the back door, which led through their laundry room just off the kitchen. He and Laif had bought the three-bedroom ranch-style home together six years earlier since neither one of them needed a place they could take women.

  In fact, they needed to not have a ready place to take women, so living together had been a brilliant solution for them both without having to still live at home. They acted as chaperones to each other.

  As he placed the burgers on the kitchen peninsula, Laif came into the room. They made up burgers and sat to eat. Bryson could wait him out—he knew Laif would talk when he was ready, and not a moment before.

  “I met her in a dark alley,” Laif started, staring at his plate. “She was surrounded by at least ten Night Shadows and she just stood there. You could tell she knew something was wrong, but she didn’t try to get away, she just straightened up and looked ready to fight.”

  He looked up and Bryson caught a glimpse of confusion in his brother’s eyes. “Why would she just wait around for some guys to jump her? She had to have thought it was some jerks up to no good. It doesn’t matter if she can fight.”

  Bryson admitted he was a little confused and Laif explained, “I got her out of there and took her to Mom and Dad’s because I couldn’t bring her here since you were in Dallas that night. She fought me when we got there, and she nearly took me down. She’s got at least a black belt in something. You should have seen her.”

  Laif smiled for a second but quickly replaced it with a frown. “I don’t know what I would have done if Mom and Dad hadn’t come in the room once I got her pinned on the floor.”

  “You pinned her on the floor?” Bryson sat up straighter. He couldn’t help the incredulity in his voice. This was not like Laif at all. At least not the mature Laif that had long outgrown adolescence.

  Laif forked a hand through his hair. “I don’t really know what happened. I was just trying to protect myself and she somehow ended up underneath me.” He shivered, and Bryson figured it was residual lust. He knew the feeling well.

  “So, Mom and Dad came in?”

  Laif nodded. “When I first touched her, it was like being hit by lightning. Everything about her called to me. Like she was mine.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and into his hair, pulling the dark strands in tight fists. “That sounds stupid. Corny. Things like that don’t happen in real life. Right?” He stared at Bryson as if he should know.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Didn’t think so. But crap, Bry, when the lights came on… I can’t explain it. All the blood in my head shot south and it was like I had to have her. Right then and there. Her body. Her hair. It was all just… perfect. She was perfect. And I thought, mine! Like I’d been waiting my whole life for her and there she was. It scared the crap out of me.”

  Bryson smiled. “So, you got mean.” He knew how his brother reacted when he got scared.

  “She’s got to hate me. I was such a jackwad. I told her to shove her head under the faucet if she wanted a drink.”

  Another laugh escaped Bryson. Yep, jackwad fit.

  Laif went to the fridge and opened a Coke, but he didn’t bring the can to his mouth or shut the door. He just stood there, like all his answers would show themselves if he stared in the fridge long enough. Bryson gave him a minute before he said, “Close the door and finish your food.”

  Laif did shut the fridge door, but he just looked at his plate, with a half-eaten burger and a handful of potato chips, like it contained maggots. He shook his head slowly as if he couldn’t believe anyone would eat the food on his plate.

  After a few seconds, he said, “I’ve got to talk to her. I’ve driven by the place I dropped her off at every day since I left her there. Yesterday, I talked to the guy who owns the bike shop on the main floor, and it took a Ben Franklin before he would tell me where she worked. But that was all I got out of the man.” Laif’s skin took on a greenish parlor. “She works at a tattoo parlor doing body piercings. How can I fall for someone like that?”

  This was worse than Bryson had thought. Laif had seen the woman once and was moping around like it was the end of the world. Suddenly, this situation wasn’t so funny.

  He stood, grabbed Laif’s Coke off the counter, and took a swig. He followed Laif to the living room and sat on the sofa next to him. After a few minutes of silence, he asked, “What do you mean by someone like that?”

  Laif leaned his head back on the couch cushion and closed his eyes. Bryson didn’t miss the sheer pain in his eyes before they closed though. “Think of all the women you know who have even been into a tattoo parlor. Would you date any of them?”

  Okay, most of the women Laif had dated over the years had been socialite types. Paulina Winthrop came to mind and Bryson shivered in terror. This Memphis woman could be the devil reincarnate and still wouldn’t be as bad as that evil cow.

  Bryson also thought of the woman he had slept with when he’d been in college. She’d had tattoos and he’d kissed every single one of them. He’d loved it. They had broken up after a year since he’d known he’d never marry someone who couldn’t believe in God, better yet the demons his family fought.

  To answer Laif’s question Bryson simply said, “Becky.”

  Laif nodded like that was answer enough. “See. What if she’s like Becky.”

  Now Laif was generalizing. “What if she’s not? Look,” —Bryson sighed— “Dad said that she was special and that you should give her a chance. So maybe you should.”

  Laif opened his eyes, his face haunted. “But what if I do and she doesn’t want me? What if I open myself up to this and she turns out to be like Paulina?”

  “Something is going on with you and this woman. Are you going to let her slip away because you’re scared?”

  Laif didn’t say anything for so long that Bryson finally got up and went back to the kitchen to finish his
cold burger. By the time Bryson had eaten and cleaned the kitchen, Laif came in and said, “No. I’m going to call her tomorrow. Even though I feel like I’m going crazy, I want to see where this takes us.”

  Bryson thought it might take him straight to the altar. Since having sex with the woman before they got married was out of the question, and it was obvious that Laif was thinking about having sex with the woman… yeah, straight to the altar.

  “You workin’ or not?” Shane Evans looked over his shoulder and caught Memphis’s attention, holding the phone out toward her.

  Memphis looked up from an old Cosmo, where she’d been reading an article on how to know if a man found you interesting. “What?”

  Shane, her boss and second-best friend in the world, nodded toward the phone. “You’ve got a client in need of an appointment.”

  Memphis tossed the magazine back onto the customers’ coffee table in the waiting area and made her way to the reception counter where she checked her schedule book. “I’ve got a four-thirty coming in a few minutes and then I think I’m calling it a day. What do they want pierced?” Memphis asked, rubbing a knot in the small of her back.

  “Tongue and eyebrow.”

  “Guy or girl?”

  Shane raised his brow. “Does it matter?”

  Memphis shrugged. It didn’t, of course. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why anyone would stab a bar or hoop through their tongue or eyebrow, or any other part of their body for that matter. The pain would have to be out of this world.

  But to each their own she guessed, and these people paid her bills, so who was she to complain. Only thing she refused was genital work. That, she wouldn’t touch for anyone. Checking her appointment book, she said, “Nope. Doesn’t matter. I can fit them in tomorrow at three.”

  Shane passed the intel along and hung up. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been preoccupied for the last two weeks.”

  Obviously, Memphis hadn’t done as good a job at hiding her growing annoyance with herself and a one Mr. Laif Craig as she’d thought. She hadn’t heard one word from him since he’d driven her home two weeks ago and promised to leave her alone.

  Well, who actually did what they promised? Had he not found her attractive? Had she been too angsty? Heavens, why couldn’t he just call?

  “Memphis? Hello?” Shane waved his hand in front of her face.

  “What?” Memphis blinked.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” She touched her forehead lightly. “I’m fine. Just missing Callan, that’s all.” She smiled and hoped it was convincing enough.

  It must not have been because he raised a brow. “This isn’t about Mr. Rich Boy?”

  Memphis had told Shane all about Laif. Well, except for the part about her being out hunting demons. She’d said that she was out because she couldn’t sleep. Shane had agreed with Laif that she shouldn’t have been out by herself. He found it amusing that she was so out of sorts about a one, Laif Craig.

  She refused to give him anything more to laugh about so she reiterated, “I miss my baby.”

  Shane smiled, obviously not believing her but let it go. “He’ll be home before you know it. I thought you were happy to send him with Joan to stay with her sister for the summer. Said it gave you a chance to catch up on sleep.”

  She laughed and stretched. Yeah, sleep. With Callan gone, she spent every night out on the streets hunting Oíche Scáthanna. And tonight would be no different. “You’re right. I’m just being a downer. Ignore me.”

  With a nod, Shane walked to the back room he used as an office and sat at his desk. Once settled, he picked up a sketchbook and a pencil and started drawing, probably a new design for a customer. She wasn’t the only one who was a little off she thought, he’d been acting weird all day.

  He wouldn’t talk until he was ready, though it kind of burned her that he hadn’t told her what was wrong on his end. They were best friends after all and told each other everything. Mostly.

  Memphis leaned against the counter and watched Shane work. He was good-looking. Dark hair, cut short, had a touch of grey at the temples, but it only served to make him look more distinguished. Blue-silver eyes crinkled when he smiled and made women take a second, and most times, a third look. He wore a beard and mustache kept trim that added the bad-boy touch to him when you couldn’t see the tats that adorned his very nice, well-trimmed, lean body.

  Yes, Memphis thought, Shane Evans was beyond good-looking. So why had she never been attracted to him? Not even in the beginning.

  What was it about Laif Craig that drew her attention? As she stared out the window of Beauty’s Skin Deep Tattoos and Piercings she envisioned Laif in his black cargo pants and long sleeve tee.

  It was summer, why had he been dressed like that? And why had he been out so late? His car hadn’t been close by either. She’d asked herself these questions a half dozen times over the last two weeks. No answers came though.

  She continued to stare out the window, past the painted dragon holding a rose in its claws that greeted the customers as they entered Skin Deep, and onto East 6th Street. Laif Craig occupied way too much of her mind. It needed to stop.

  Why hadn’t called? He was a smart boy; he could find her number. And he knew where she lived. He could have come by.

  “Memphis. Answer the phone,” Shane hollered, ignoring the phone sitting right beside his left elbow.

  At the shrill ring, Memphis picked up and sighed, “Beauty’s Skin Deep, how can I help you?”

  The person on the other end swallowed loud. “Um, yeah, I’m looking for Memphis McLoughlin.”

  Memphis’s heart rate sped up. It was him! That meant he cared, at least some. Right? She couldn’t help the stupid grin that lit up her face. And no matter how many times she’d tried to convince herself she didn’t want to ever lay eyes on Laif Craig again, hearing his nervous voice, well, she felt tingles from head to toe. How to play this? Keep it light and fun. For her at least. “Maybe I know her,” she teased.

  “Memphis? Is that you? This is Laif Craig. We met the other night—”

  “I know who this is. What can I do for you?”

  He didn’t say anything for a full thirty seconds, and just as Memphis opened her mouth to ask if he was still there, he said, “I owe you an apology and thought maybe I could buy you dinner.”

  She bit her lip. She should not be happy about this. Not one little bit. Say, no thank, you and hang up. That’s the only smart thing to do.

  “I guess I could eat.” What? No, you were supposed to say no!

  “Okay. What time do you get off work?”

  “Normally at eight, but I was going to cut out of here by six. I’m not really dressed for anything fancy, so maybe we can go to Joe’s Diner on East 6th. Know the place?”

  “Yeah, I know the place. I’ll pick you up at—”

  “I’ll meet you there,” she interrupted. “Say, six-ten?”

  She thought he sighed before he said, “That’d be great. See ya then.”

  Memphis hung up, uncoiled the strand of hair she hadn’t realized she’d twirled around her finger, and banged her head against the counter. She had to be the dumbest woman alive, that was all there was to it. Smart women, who knew it was their sworn duty to avoid temptation at all cost, did not run headfirst into the lion’s den.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she grumbled, still banging her head.

  Laif parked his car, lucky to find a space so close to the restaurant. He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. What was he doing? For one thing, he wasn’t even hungry. Sure, he hadn’t eaten since lunch, but the grilled chicken sandwich sat in his stomach like a rock.

  Yes, Bryson had convinced him to see her again, but was that smart? Maybe he hadn’t got his point across to Bryson about how badly he wanted Memphis. In his mind’s eye, he could recall with perfect clarity the fire of her hair, the passion in her moss-green eyes, the way her body moved seductively under blac
k leather. No. He shouldn’t be here.

  He had to stop thinking about her that way. “This is just dinner. Nothing more.”

  Yeah right.

  He heaved a deep breath, sucked up his courage, and climbed out of the car. It’s just dinner.

  The sound of a car screeching to a stop and the one behind it ramming into the back of it grabbed Laif’s attention. He searched the street for a sign of why the cars had crashed and saw it. A slender woman stumbled around in the intersection of East 6th and Brazos, staggering between slow-moving cars. Her chestnut hair clung to her bone-white face and tumbled down her back.

  Laif’s legs turned to jelly and his heart jolted him into a stupor when he recognized her. Memphis!

  Brakes squealed again and a black Mercedes, trying to avoid the two wrecked cars, fishtailed toward her. Fighting his way out of the haze, he darted into traffic, pulling her out of the way before the car could take her out.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, her face inches from his. As the words left her lips, she went limp in his arms.

  Laif couldn’t catch his breath. Help. He needed to get help.

  A woman yelled, “Someone call an ambulance!”

  “Where’d she come from?” asked a man.

  Words tumbled around him, none penetrating the fog in his head.

  His gaze traveled from her pale face to the trail of blood oozing from a hole above her bellybutton. Paying no attention to his surroundings, Laif ripped off his light-blue button-down shirt, scattering buttons—a shirt, that in a moment of extreme stupidity, he’d bought this very afternoon for this dinner—and pressed it into the bloody hole in her abdomen to staunch some of the bleeding. Gripping her body closer to his chest, he stood and yelled, “I need a cab! Get me a cab!”

  As a taxi slowed to a stop, someone opened the door and Laif climbed in beside an angry-looking man. “Brackenridge Hospital. Hurry! It’s an emergency.”

  The Suit snarled, “This is my cab.”

  On a low growl from Laif, the man’s mouth snapped shut and he glanced over the unconscious woman.