* * * *
If one more person touches me I’m going to snap. Hope Laroux took a deep breath and tamped her temper down for the third time. The bus’s air-conditioning had broken down about two hours before. The fan still worked at least and kept the warm air moving, but she was already sweating up a storm, and the guy next to her kept dozing off and leaning against her.
She swirled her hair up and clipped it on the top of her head. Instantly chunks slipped free and stuck to the back of her neck when she rested her head against the seat and tried to remember what it was that gave her the bright idea to travel to the southern end of New Mexico in the middle of summer. Isn’t that why Google was created? I could have researched to my heart’s content online.
But writing a thesis on storytelling through the ages didn’t work as well unless you actually talked to people who passed the stories along. Her uncle Michael was a great storyteller and had filled her head as a kid with Celtic legends and stories of other worlds that lay across a thin veil on the shores of Scotland.
Her aunt Arlene was born and raised in New Mexico and she’d said there were lots of storytellers still around down here. That was where Hope got the semi-great idea to compare the passing of stories in other countries to those in her own United States. She’d spoken to several Native Americans about their traditions, but there was something about New Mexico that captured her imagination.
Her aunt Arlene could only remember one specific local legend about large, powerful creatures called Midnighters, who would steal women away to their homes and keep them as slaves. It sounded suspiciously like a more romantic version of a Chupacabra where the victims were killed and eaten. Hope’s theory was that no one wanted to believe their missing family members had been devoured by animals in the desert, including a Chupacabra. So this large Midnighter, while condoning slavery, at least kept his captives alive.
She saw a movement in her peripheral vision. The man next to her was sliding again. This time she sat forward at the last minute and he toppled over farther then he’d planned to.
“Uh, ah, yeah, ’scuse me,” he muttered and then leaned against the window away from her.
Thank god. She sat back again and waved a flyer in front of her face. She thought about working on her laptop, but the heat from the computer would drive her crazy.
“Miss?” She looked over as a man offered her a bottle of water. “You look hot. Would you like some?”
It had been hours since their last stop and Hope was getting thirsty, but she’d heard too many horror stories from college to accept an open bottle of anything from a stranger.
“No, thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’m fine.”
He frowned slightly, but it melted away when he shrugged. He looked to be about her age, maybe a little older in his midthirties. “I’m happy to share if you change your mind.” He pulled the bottle back and placed it on the table in front of him. “I’m Tony.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tony, I’m Hope.”
“What’s a gorgeous woman like you doing on a stinky, rundown bus headed south?” Tony relaxed his shoulder against his seat. He was well built, broad shouldered, with short brown spiky hair. He might have been physically attractive, but there was something about his eyes that made her skin crawl. This was the kind of man who would tell other people’s stories as his own, or lie.
“Visiting family down south,” she answered with a partial truth. While technically she was related to some of these people by marriage, she didn’t really have any close family members. Her aunt and uncle would be the only family she kept in contact with and even then, she only spoke to them a couple times a year.
She wanted to stop this conversation now, but good manners pressed her to continue the conversation. “How about yourself?”
“Work. I’ve got a job lined up in Tucson. Nothing exciting, delivering packages, but it’s better than nothing.”
“There’re many people who don’t have a job. It’s admirable that you’re willing to travel so far in order to get one. Many people would only look in their own town if they looked at all.”
“Sometimes you have to go where the work is and then bring what you learned home,” he replied.
“That’s true.” She lifted her damp tissue and dabbed at her throat where she could feel the sweat collecting. At this rate she was going to arrive in Mystique, New Mexico, completely dehydrated. Her gaze flicked to the bottle of water sitting in her view.
“It’s still cold.” Tony lifted the bottle and waved it in her direction. “My bag is insulated.”
Hope clenched her fist and warred with her own thoughts. Her desire for a cold sip of water almost won out over her common sense. It was the malicious edge to Tony’s smile that made her decision.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” The lie slid into her thoughts faster than she ever thought possible. “Cold water makes my teeth ache something terrible and I end up with a migraine. I think I’ll sit back and have a nap and hopefully that will make the trip go by faster. It was nice talking with you, Tony.” She slipped her sunglasses over her eyes and tilted her head back and tried to make truth of her lie. She had no intention of sleeping, especially with someone so creepy across a small aisle from her.
Tony didn’t say anything to her again. Instead, he put on a pair of earphones and placed the bottle of water back in his bag. Strange. Hope wondered if she should get off a stop early so he wouldn’t know where she was staying, but then decided that was a bit paranoid even for her.
Feigning sleep, she let her head roll to the left and stared at the part of the window she could see. There was nothing but sand and rocks as far as she could see, but the landscape was beautiful in its own way. No wonder people made up stories about magical creatures. There was an almost magical look of the land as they drove past.
Off in the distance she could see a series of pyramid-shaped mountains start to come into view. What kind of stories do they hold? She peeked to the side and it looked like the large tablet Tony was holding had gained his attention. At least he was distracted from her for the time being. She glanced down at the schedule in her hand. Thirty minutes left.
When the bus finally pulled into town, Hope felt a wave of exhaustion roll over her. I can’t believe I’m finally here. It seemed silly to feel tired when all she’d done for the last twenty-four hours was sit on a bus, but she wanted desperately to stretch out her body in a horizontal position and relax.
The bus came to a stop and she jumped up to get her bag out of the overhead compartment. As she stretched up, she felt a hand cup her calf and slide up her leg. Shock hit her at first, and then a blast of fiery temper. She brought her hand down, slapping Tony right across his cheek. He’d been busy staring at her ass and hadn’t seen it coming.
“You bitch!” he spat and grabbed her arm. Leaping up, he pulled back his fist. Hope tried to pull her arm out of his grip. She balled up her other fist. If he swung, so would she.
“Hey there!” A large man stepped between the two of them. “That’s no way to treat a lady, asshole.” She felt Tony’s hand forced from her arm. “Why don’t you try hitting someone your own size?”
He turned and she looked up at him. He had a gentle smile on his face, all the while gripping Tony’s arm. “Would you like him to apologize, ma’am?”
“No, thank you. I don’t like lies and if he says sorry then I’d feel obligated to as well, and I’m not at all.”
The cowboy grinned. “Let me get your bag. You go on ahead.”
Hope walked to the front of the bus but didn’t look back. Tony was obviously one of those psycho guys that thought all women wanted them. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a second look.
Mystique was about what she was expecting. Nothing like the green and flashiness of the California coast, this town was more rustic. She had to admit she did like the sight that greeted her as she stepped off the bus. Fresh air, while humid, smelled better than a bus full of travelers.
Her hand still stung and she shook it as she turned and waited for her hero.
He appeared behind her with both of their bags, and carried them over to the side where the driver had opened the bottom hatch and fished out their luggage.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she said as he placed her luggage at her feet. She slung her laptop over her shoulder and held out her hand. “My name is Hope Laroux.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Laroux.” He clasped her hand and gave it a shake. “Bobby Redfox, and I wish I’d noticed before he’d actually touched you. How’s your hand feeling?”
He turned her hand around to look at the red skin. His hands were a bit bigger than her own and rougher, but that meant he was a hard-working man.
“You can put some ice on that when you get home, but I don’t think there will be any permanent damage. I’m glad you managed to get a shot in. I’d have killed him if he tried that on my wife.”
Hope plastered a smile on her face and pretended she hadn’t been imagining what his ass looked like covered in soapsuds. “It’s worth all the sting it caused. I’m certain he’s short enough on brain cells he’ll do that in front of someone else’s husband and get his ass handed to him.”
“Bobby!” A beautiful blonde bounced on the balls of her feet, waving as she called out his name. A glowing smile crossed Bobby’s face and then Hope clued in to the camouflage uniform he was wearing.
“Welcome home. And thank you so much for everything you’ve done, for me and our country.”
He smiled at her and pretended to touch the brim of a cowboy hat before jogging over to the gorgeous woman. He dropped his duffel bag in time to catch his wife as she jumped into his arms as soon as he was close enough.
Who said chivalry is dead? She turned away from the kissing couple and picked up her bags. Her uncle had said an old friend of his was going to meet her here. She scanned the street but didn’t see anyone waiting for her. A large black SUV turned the corner and skidded to a stop. The man who hopped out looked a bit like Sam Elliott. Given his weathered and beaten appearance, she was willing to bet he had a lot of stories to tell, too.
“Miss Hope Laroux, is that you?”
“Yes.” She clutched her bag a little closer. After her run-in on the bus with Tony she wasn’t feeling as confident as she normally would have.
“I’m Eddie Santiago.” He walked up to her and held out his hand. “Your uncle Michael asked me to pick you up and introduce you around town a mite.”
That went a long way to easing her concerns and she shook the man’s hand. A stranger might know her aunt, but not many people around here knew her uncle.
“That’s very kind of you Mr. Santiago.”
“Bah, call me Eddie. Everyone else does.” He shooed her away from her luggage. “You go on and jump up into the truck and let me get your bags for you.”
“Thank you, Eddie.” Hope slung her purse and laptop on her shoulder and headed to the passenger side. The truck was huge and she had to toss her bags on the floor of the front seat before trying to get in. She opened the door and gripped the handle and the front seat. With a hop she stepped on the running board and got it.
I’d hate to try that in a skirt. Eddie put her luggage in the back with an ease she hadn’t expected from a man his age. It wasn’t that he was really old, but he hadn’t struggled with them at all.
“You’re much stronger than me, Eddie. I don’t think I could have tossed them in as easily.” She said as he slid behind the steering wheel. She wasn’t fishing for information, but Mr. Santiago seemed to be a fascinating person. Perhaps she overestimated his age. Years out in the sun might have aged him prematurely.
“Good healthy living, Miss Laroux.”
“None of that. If I call you Eddie, you call me Hope.”
He checked both ways and then pulled out from the curb. “I took the liberty of getting the house ready for you. Michael said you were working on something for college?”
“Yes, my thesis.”
“That’s a mighty hard undertaking. How’s it going so far?”
“Dismal. There are so many directions I can go and I can’t seem to focus on one. I wanted to prove that the original method of storytelling, passing it verbally through the ages, was the most accurate. That the written word is flawed because there is no passion when reading other than what the readers put into it. It’s like reading a text message and then you have to call the person because you aren’t sure of the tone in which it was meant. The written word is the same way. No tone, or passion when you read, but everyone loves to have a story told to them and those are the ones we remember the best, because of the atmosphere around the listener and the teller.”
“Interesting concept.” Eddie nodded as he bounced over the uneven road. Hope slowly eased her seat belt across her and plugged it in.
“Sorry about that.” He offered a sheepish grin. “The guys I work with are a bit larger than you and are big kids at heart sometimes.”
“I don’t mind. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I’m older than I look.”
Hope blinked, unable to process the possibility of that being truth. Eddie chuckled and shook his head as if she was a rookie for falling into that one. “What information are you looking for around here, Hope?”
“I’d love to find someone who knows lots of the local and not-too-local legends, like the Chupacabra.”
“I’m your man, Hope. I know tons of stories from when I was a little bit and my pappy would sit me down in the hills and tell them to me.”
“That’s excellent! I’d love to hear them all. What do you know of Midnighters?”
Eddie whipped his head to the side and looked at her, shock evident in every wrinkle on his face. “How do you know about them?”
Hope didn’t understand why that would cause such a reaction. She glanced out the front window. “Watch out!”
Chapter Two
Wolfe yawned as he stretched out along his bed. He’d been up for forty-eight Earth hours and was exhausted. The days at home were longer than Earth days but not this long. He and Falcon had been working on the inside of the building. Each of them loved to craft things with their hands. Here on Earth many of their natural abilities were suppressed, so they had to do many things manually. It was tiring work, but he enjoyed it.
Falcon paced across to the window, staring out at the horizon as he had for the last four hours. “Go to bed, Falcon, or I’ll tie you to it. You’ve been pacing so much you’re making me tired.”
“Can’t you feel her? I keep thinking I’ll put out my hand and she’ll be there, but then I have to wait.”
Wolfe knew exactly what Falcon was saying. He felt the same way. That was why he’d worked himself so hard that day. He had to, or he would have been pacing right next to his warrior brother and they both would have lost control. “We have no idea where she is, Falcon. She could be a dozen miles away, or she could walk through that door in the next minute—”
The front door opened cutting off what he was saying. Wolfe leapt to his feet, his heart pounding against his chest. But it was Shadow who came through the entrance.
He paused and looked back and forth between Falcon and Wolfe. “What?”
“Never mind, we thought you were someone else.” Wolfe flopped back down on the bed and ignored the smirk that Falcon sent in his direction.
Shadow gave them each a strange look as he carried a large bag to the makeshift table. “I stopped at the market and picked up some pecans for Destiny.”
That perked Wolfe’s attention. Destiny had started experimenting by crossing Earth food with their native varieties. Pecans were turned into pralines by cooking them with a sweet mixture she concocted one day. He had what she called a sweet tooth so she’d made a salad with pralines and lolyich. He thought was delicious. Although every time someone said the word lolyich around her, she blushed. He imagined that Jag and Rock must have showed her some of their own traditions. That particu
lar fruit was known to increase arousal when shared between lovers.
Raven entered behind his twin brother and glanced at them both. “Are you sure everything is all right? You’re both acting like Rock and Jag did before...oh no, not you, too.”
Falcon laughed at the horrified look on Raven’s face. “You say that like it’s the worst thing to happen. Aren’t you and Shadow looking forward to your Atan?”
“No, and I don’t understand why you would.” Raven shook his head. “No more Raxka, no taking advantage of the women who will come here when it’s open. We’d be tied to one helpless woman who can shatter a warrior’s composure with a single blink. No, thank you. I think we’re going to spend much more time in Lu’um where it’s safe.”
Raven had a point, but Wolfe knew that his and Shadow’s fear of commitment went much deeper than simply not wanting to settle down with their destined Atan. “Whatever makes you happy, my friend. But I’d like a woman to be waiting for me when I come home. One that cares for only Falcon and I.”
“It’s not like you to be so possessive.” Shadow flopped down on a large chair and surveyed the room.
“Feeling like we’re on the verge of meeting our Atan has me rethinking my priorities.”
“Waiting is the worst part,” Falcon commented from his position by the window.
Wolfe closed his eyes and crossed his hands behind his head. He missed his bed at home. At home, their surroundings naturally adjusted to their needs. Here on Earth, the energy around them wasn’t as conductive and it took some getting used to. Settling down, he imagined having his Atan in his and Falcon’s large bed, filling the space between them. He hoped she was soft-spoken and gentle. He always did like a gentle woman with large breasts to bury his face between. She’d look to them for protection and they’d see that she never wanted for anything. He’d even share his pralines with her.
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Stealing Hope [Midnighter Seductions 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2
