by Lila Rose
Sighing deeply to myself, I knew if I wasn’t so dog-tired, I’d be bawling my eyes out over the loss of security that came with my home; instead, I trudged over to the front bench to the right of the door. Lifting the wrought iron behemoth, I grabbed the spare key and unlocked the front door.
Entering my tiny home did nothing to alleviate the negative awareness haunting me. Not one to throw pity parties, I decided a shower was first order. On the way, I grabbed a pair of cozy gray PINK gym pants and a blue PINK V-neck pullover. Knowing Fallon, the only person I would call in that situation, would be asleep, I decided to ring her later because really, there wasn’t anything I could tell her when I didn’t know anything myself. Instead, I hit the radio when I entered the bathroom.
I snorted. “You have got to be kidding,” I mumbled as Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off” bled through the speakers. Who was I to question well-timed music? So that was exactly what I did for the next thirty minutes: I shook it off until the water ran cold. Feeling slightly renewed, I ignored the fact it was early morning and grabbed my e-reader, then fixed myself a hot toddy, heavy on the whiskey, and headed toward the much-needed reading release awaiting me in my favorite seat. I hadn’t even made it past chapter three of Rock Chick Rescue when a knock came from the front door. Reluctantly, I put Jet and Eddie down and went to answer it.
“Hello, I am investigator Falcone Apocalos and this is my partner Connor Apocalos. I’m sorry to intrude so early, but we have a few questions pertaining to the train accident yesterday.”
I barely took in his words and the card he handed me, because…
Sweet mother of Chris Hemsworth!
Before me were two of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen; they put the poor doctor to shame. I must have made that toddy a little too strong because I could swear I had Lancelot and Nick Bateman standing on my doorstep. Falcone was more of a kind-looking man, with a warm smile, adorable, yet unruly, sun-kissed blond curls, soft shadowing of stubble, and soul-piercing sterling-gray eyes.
Jeez, with my overkill of adjectives, I think I need to lay off the romances for a while.
Connor, well, I just couldn’t do the description justice. Like staring at the sun, he was just too pretty to look at one spot too long; a person could go blind. After observing a fabulous body under a tee that said, Caution: You Might Get Addicted To Me, I made my way back to his blindingly beautiful face, and it seemed my observations did not go unnoticed. At a sexy wink from Connor, I snapped back to reality. He was delicious, but he didn’t get my girly parts going. He reeked of “ultimate player,” which kept my stomach flutters at bay. Though, that wink was kind of adorable in the naughty little brother kind of way.
“Q-questions,” I stammered. Clearing my throat, I told them, “But I answered two hours of questions back at the hospital. Dr. McMullan told the police to let me rest. So why are you here now?” I was too exhausted for more questions.
“Two hours? What were they doing? Writing your damn biography in Sanskrit?” Connor scoffed.
Falcone shot Connor a look that said “shut the hell up,” then turned back to me and answered, “We are independent contractors working in conjunction with law enforcement on the investigation. Unfortunately, the locals don’t always like to share information and we are going to need to ask you again. I really am sorry, and promise not to take up too much of your time.”
A check of ID and the sincerity of his words were the only reasons I let them in. What also helped was the hilarious sight of those two big guys trying to squeeze onto my small two-seater couch. Ease finally filled my bones. As I settled into my own chair, I tried to explain, “I don’t know how I can help. I don’t remember the accident at all. I can recall my day until about 7:00 p.m., but then everything is blank, until I woke this morning in the hospital.”
“Well, let’s start with the basics, full name, date of birth, and occupation?” Falcone asked as he retrieved a small notepad and pen from inside his coat.
Before I could respond, Connor added, “Bra size, astrological sign, and phone number would be great too, sweets.” He ended it with a smug smile and a wink.
What a smartass. Rolling my eyes, I answered his questions. “Julie Michaels. I’m twenty-eight. Currently, I’m an overpaid tutor/homeschool teacher to the rich and snobbish. Though, after next week, I will be self-employed as co-owner of The Edit Station, an online editing company for indie authors,” I informed Falcone, and then turned to Connor and said the rest. “Heck no to bra size. I’m a Gemini. And he can have the digits because you’re out of luck, slick.”
“Ouch. Harsh much?” Connor asked with a playful pout. I offered him a slight smile and shook my head. Connor oozed charm that had panties dropping like flies. For some reason though, his antics were amusing, and thankfully I was immune to his charms.
Apparently used to Connor’s shenanigans, Falcone sighed and continued, “Did they tell you why you have no memory of the event? Were you injured?” He asked with such concern, I was touched and rushed to reassure him.
“Oh, no. I’m fine, physically anyway. The doctor says I have a repressed memory, which is exactly as it sounds. My brain is protecting itself. I guess the accident was pretty bad, which is terrible to think about. I hope no one else was hurt.” Shaking my head, dread settled in my stomach. I’d been doing all I could to avoid thinking about it. I added, “The memories will return, but until then, they want me to avoid any contact with the news or media.” I winced on the inside, really not looking forward to the time they returned. For my memory to be protecting me the way it was, there was no way anything I discovered would be good.
“And now? How are you feeling since waking? Not medically, but emotionally. Is anything different?” That time it was Connor who surprised me with the compassionate question.
I was so thrown, I found myself answering honestly. “Truthfully, yes. Since I woke in the hospital, I’ve felt uneasy and….” It was hard to speak of it because I had tried to repress all my emotions since waking, or else I’d be a mess. I didn’t want to be a mess; as my mother would say, it showed how weak I was. God, why was I even holding back? I should have cried, have fallen to the floor and bawled because it was obvious something bad had happened on that train. Why had I acted as my mother had brought me up? Looking up to the men, my voice a mere whisper, I said, “My home is my safe haven, my sanity, a constant, but that unnerving feeling followed me here. I think that, along with not knowing anything, is what upsets me the m-most.” My voice cracked on the last word as I choked back the tears.
Falcone leaned forward and gave my knee a comforting touch before he spoke. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Connor, thankfully, broke the melancholy moment. It would be embarrassing if I suddenly broke down in front of them. “Okay, Romeo, quit flirting and keep it professional, please,” he huffed.
With a slight blush, Falcone proceeded with his next question. “Were you supposed to ride home with anyone yesterday?”
“No. I live alone and meet clients in their homes or public locations that work for studying,” I answered.
“Do you ride every day? Would you know any of the other regular passengers’ names?” Falcone queried.
“Yes and no. I ride every day, but I keep to myself. Sorry, it’s just I usually use that time to edit or schedule out incoming manuscripts,” I apologized. I felt bad for not paying better attention to my surroundings over the years. Maybe if I had, I could have been more of a help.
As if sensing my remorse, Connor tried to ease my mind by asking, “Where is the last place you can recall being before this morning? We can retrace your steps from now until your memories return.”
That I could answer. “I’ve gone over it a hundred times, but I can only recall as far as tutoring my SAT prep group, from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. at the library in the city. I can grab you Troy the Tool’s cell phone number…. Um, I mean, Troy Thompson. He was one of the students there last night.” I bit my bottom lip, annoyed with
myself. “I want to help, I really do, but that’s all I know,” I said sadly.
“Well, there is one more thing you could do that would help,” Falcone corrected. “In light of your condition, we’d like to have someone stay with you until your memories return. We want to be here when they do arise. This way we can get the details fresh and act immediately if needed. Your account is crucial to our investigation.”
“Yeah, no pressure or anything,” Connor added with an award-winning smile.
The thing was, the request was actually a relief. Did I feel slightly obligated to help? Yes, but that wasn’t enough to make me open my home to a complete stranger. I didn’t have dumb A-S-S tattooed on my forehead. But I might have been ill-advised there, because I was going to agree to the asinine idea. Not for the investigation, no, but for my own selfish reason. Since the moment the detectives had knocked on my door, I had felt the comfort and safety that had eluded me since waking. I wasn’t ready to let that go.
“Is it normal to offer to stay at people’s houses?” I asked.
“N—” Connor started.
“Yes,” Falcone interrupted loudly. “At times like this it’s important.”
“But, couldn’t it take weeks?”
Falcone nodded. “Right now, this is our main case, so we have time and we pride ourselves on giving 100 percent.”
I studied them. Who was I kidding? There was no way I would say no to them. Sighing, as if I were put out, I said, “Fine, but be warned I’m taking pictures of your big booties trying to sleep on that loveseat. I could even post it on the Internet,” I joked.
“Oh, joy,” Connor grumbled, eyeing the seat as if it offended him.
Falcone chuckled. “We will need to settle things at the office, and one of us will grab a change of clothes first.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I offered, smiling with true ease for the first time that day. As I followed, I noted their backsides were just as nice as their fronts. “Bet you could bounce a quarter on that,” I mumbled, not noticing I’d said it aloud until Connor gave his leather-clad hiney a shimmy and responded, “Never tried, but you’re welcome to give it a go. I have cracked a walnut though. Just watch the shells, those suckers are sharp.”
Chapter Three
DEAN
I paced the main meeting room on our apartment’s floor, my skin crawling with restlessness. I thought if I kept moving my feet, the deep dread inside the pit of my stomach wouldn’t overcome me. I wished to Christ my other brothers would hurry up and get their asses back home. I wanted… no, I needed information on Julie.
I rubbed the back of my neck, unease swirling in my gut. I didn’t like what I’d found at the train wreck site. In finding no wandering souls, Warren’s and my suspicions had been pretty much confirmed.
Kayne had somehow been released and was wandering the streets, leaving destruction in his path.
“Will you sit the fuck down? You’re giving me a headache,” Warren said with an annoyed growl from his seat on the couch. I turned to him; his grim face mimicked mine.
“How in the hell can you just sit there?” I asked, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration.
“Easy,” he replied, and then the smartass leaned back further and closed his eyes.
“Don’t play with me, brother. You’re just as fucking furious as I am.” Though I doubt he was as anxious as I was to hear about the survivor. I fisted my hands at my sides as I continued my pacing.
“It may not even be him,” Warren said with a hint of hope.
“Bullshit, and you know it,” I clipped out. “Where in the hell are they? They should be back by now.”
“They’ll be here—” Warren paused when the door opened. “—soon.”
Falcone and Connor walked in with their brows drawn and frowns upon their faces. Without words, they each sat in a chair and leaned forward, resting their elbows on their knees.
“Well?” I snapped.
“She doesn’t remember anything,” Falcone said.
My heart galloped hard behind my ribs as he mentioned her. My body hummed, my skin fucking tingling at the thought of Julie. Why was the survivor bringing that type of reaction from me?
Mate, my mind whispered.
No. It couldn’t be.
My brothers and I had gone centuries on earth without finding our destined ones.
We’d all come to the conclusion the prophecy had been a myth.
“Dean,” Warren barked.
I jumped and turned to my brothers.
“Tell them what you found at the site,” he prodded.
Nodding, I said, “There were no traces of the dead.”
“Fuck.” Connor sighed.
“Do you…?” Falcone started.
“Yes,” I answered. “We all know of the one person who can take souls and leave nothing behind. If it was any other case, if there had been tormented souls flying around mourning their sudden deaths, then we wouldn’t worry. But there was nothing, no traces of anything. It has to be him. It has to be our brother Kayne.”
“What are we to do?” Falcone asked, his brows low, body tense, and his voice thick with a worried tone.
“We hunt. We find. We destroy.” Hardness formed Warren’s words.
“Warren, he is our brother,” Falcone whispered. He was always the one with a full heart.
“Do you want this destruction to continue, Fal? Do you want our brother to keep killing innocents? We have no choice,” Warren told him.
Falcone closed his eyes and slowly nodded. We all knew he would do the right thing to save innocent people. The humans.
But how did that one human, the one woman survive?
“Did you get anything from Julie Michaels?” I asked, eager to know more. Even saying her name caused my stomach to dance.
Connor smirked at me. “Yeah, we got that she is smoking hot, loves a man in leather because she sure loved looking at my ass, and—”
He didn’t get to finish. I was on him in seconds. Dragging him over his chair, I pinned him to the wall by this throat.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Connor taunted. Obviously I wasn’t choking him hard enough if he could still tease. My grip tightened, and he turned an ugly shade of red.
“Dean, what the fuck are you doing?” Warren yelled from his seat, not bothering to get up and rescue his brother.
Ignoring him, I leaned closer and hissed in Connor’s face, “Say one more word about her and I will gut you like the pig you are.”
Connor gasped out a laugh. I threw him to the floor while he caught his breath and then kept on laughing.
“Someone fucking tell me what this is about now?” Warren bellowed. “We have never fought each other, only side by side, so I want to know now what is causing this shit when we have bigger issues to fucking deal with,” he commanded.
Connor, still chuckling, slowly stood and announced, “I believe our dear brother Death here, has found his mate.”
“Could it be?” Falcone smiled. “Wow, it has to be. Why else would Dean be ready to defend a woman he hasn’t even met?” Falcone stood and started his own pacing as we all watched. Connor smiled while Warren appeared curious. Meanwhile, I was still furious from Connor’s words. Falcone continued his ramblings, “It had been foretold so many centuries ago. I never thought it would take so long, which is why I never believed it. Though, Dean is obviously showing traits that this woman is his mate—”
“What traits?” I demanded.
“A sudden change in attitude, like aggression. You’re edgy. You feel a protective need for the survivor. You have an urge to be around her. And I’m sure that’s only a start.”
“He’s definitely aggressive over her. Nearly ripped my fucking throat out.” Connor sniggered.
“Fuck,” I growled.
I have a mate. A mate. What does it mean?
“You’ll need to stay away from her for now,” Warren stated.
I spun to face him. “Why? What in the fuck
for?”
“You need to concentrate. We need your head in the game.”
“Fuck that. I need to see her. I need to meet her,” I yelled and then took a deep breath to continue in a calmer tone. “She is my mate, Warren. I can feel it inside me. I can feel her inside me. She’s my other half and I need her to see this, to feel what I’m already feeling.”
“This will fuck it all up,” Warren bit out. “Decay is out there, brother. We need our heads on straight, not thinking about some slut warming your bed.”
Moving swiftly, I took Warren to the ground. I wanted to hurt him. Satisfaction curled through me when my fist collided with his face as I straddled his waist. Falcone and Connor grabbed my arms before I punched again, and dragged me from Warren. A deep snarl left my chest.
Warren sat up slowly with a smug smile on his scarred face.
Fuck!
I had just proven my head was definitely not on straight.
“You see what I mean now, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just kept going. “Which is why Falcone will go back to her. He’ll be the one to protect her and watch her, wait for her memory to refresh itself.”
“What? No!” I roared. My hands itched to clock my brother over the head a few times more. But Falcone and Connor still had hold of me.
Falcone cleared his throat. “Under the circumstances, I think it may be best if Dean did go to her house.”
Grinning at my brother, I nodded, thinking fast. “This aggression may ease if I’m around her.”
Connor and Falcone released my arms and stepped away. I kept my eyes on Warren, and we all turned toward him. He was our leader. He was War. When he instructed, we listened.
