The Guardian Trilogy: The Complete Collection - Guardian, Allegiant & Reborn

by Sara Mack

  He picks up his glass again. “Okay. I’m going to make bacon.”

  I turn toward the bedroom and then stop when I see his wet t-shirt lying on the counter. “Pick that up,” I say and make a face. “It’s gross.”

  He leans across the counter and grabs his shirt. Satisfied, I head to the bedroom.

  WHACK! His sweaty shirt hits me squarely in the back, and I stop in my tracks. I turn around and catch him trying to hide his grin behind his glass like nothing happened. Apparently, today, we’ve stepped back in time to kindergarten. I bend down slowly, pick his shirt off the floor with two fingers, and raise an eyebrow. “That’s how you want to play?”

  He shrugs.

  I can’t launch the shirt at him because it will only make it half the distance. I don’t have many options standing here in the hallway, so I decide to bide my time. “You have no idea what you just started,” I threaten and narrow my eyes. “Watch your back, Walker.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  I give him an adamant nod and then carry his shirt into the bedroom. As I close the door behind me, I can hear him laugh.

  Later that afternoon, after I’ve read a few chapters and taken my tests, I lounge on the couch, surfing the internet. I’m sleepy today. I don’t know why; I’ve slept like a rock the past few nights. Maybe I toss in my sleep more than I realize. Dane hasn’t said anything though; you’d think he would if I’d accidentally kicked him or something. My thoughts turn to payback for earlier today, and I’m just about to Google pranks when he comes through the sliding door.

  “Are you finished yet?”

  “Yep.” I sit up. “Do you need the computer?”

  He nods. “I want to work on fixing those pictures for your mom.”

  My mother has requested that I send her photos of Ireland. Since I can’t do that for real, Dane, master graphic designer that he is, bought Photoshop and has been working with the program and some images we pulled off the internet. He has four pictures finished where he’s imposed me from photos I had on my phone to stock photos of popular sites in Ireland. He wants to do a few more, so I can send her a couple at a time.

  Sitting down next to me, he takes over my laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Where’s the mouse?” he asks.

  I reach into my computer bag on the floor and pull out my little pink wireless mouse; it’s funny to watch him use it.

  “Did you call your mom today?” he asks while he connects the mouse USB.

  “Nope. I emailed her. And Shel.” He never lets me forget to contact them every couple of days.

  “Matt called,” he says absentmindedly while he opens Photoshop. “He wanted to know if I wanted to go to the bar. I guess Shel’s busy tonight.”

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “That I was still out of town,” he says and clicks the file he wants. He looks at me. “He mentioned that you were in Ireland. I guess he thought I’d want to know.”

  I smile. “Ireland is unseasonably warm and sunny for this time of year. You should join me there.”

  He smirks. “Already done.” He looks back at the screen and sets to work magnifying and dragging and clicking. I have no idea how any of this program works.

  I lean forward to watch him and set my chin on my hand. “You know, you could go home. You don’t have to stay here.”

  He frowns at the screen. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No,” I say abruptly and shake my head. “But, maybe you should make an appearance and then come back. How long can you use the ‘out of town for work’ excuse? Especially since you no longer have a job.”

  He says nothing.

  The idea of not having him around makes me sad, but I have to consider what’s best for him and our ruse. “Besides, your family will want you around for the holidays. I can stay here and hold down the fort. You could go home and celebrate and then come back to me.”

  “Leaving you is out of the question,” he says. “My family and I aren’t close. It’s not a big deal if I miss Christmas.”

  I find this incredibly sad and my face shows it. When he looks at me he notices and sighs. “Listen, this is how it works in my family. My dad and my stepmother will have a huge dinner Christmas Eve. They will invite everyone involved with Bay Woods; that’s about a hundred people. They’ll spend the night hobnobbing with business associates and employees who really don’t want to be there but feel obligated to attend because my dad is their boss. I will hang in the background, as I usually do, with a fake smile plastered on my face and answer the same question a thousand times.”

  “Let me guess,” I say. “Why aren’t you working at the golf course?”

  “Exactly. Then, after the catered spread is gone and the liquor starts to dry up, the guests will leave to spend time with their own families. My dad will ceremoniously hand me a check, his gift to me every year, and I’ll wake up Christmas morning like it’s any other day. The End.”

  “I don’t like that,” I say.

  “Me either.”

  We stare at each other for a few moments and then he turns back to my laptop. I immediately regret bringing up the subject. Maybe we could start a new tradition this Christmas. Decorate a palm tree or something.

  “So, will we be here in December?” I ask.

  “We can be. I rented the place for a month, but the agreement can be extended.” He looks at me again. “Or we could move on to somewhere new. This may be your chance to travel the world.” He smiles.

  “Sounds tempting.”

  “Well, we have three weeks to decide,” he says and goes back to clicking.

  I try to watch him work, but it’s boring and I keep yawning. “I’m going to go lay down. I’m tired for some reason.”

  He nods, concentrating on the screen, and I stand to walk around him. I pass the sliding doors and eye the hammock strung between two palm trees on the patio. I have yet to use that. I change direction and head outside to crawl into it for my late afternoon siesta. It takes me three tries, but I finally find myself in the middle of it without feeling like I’m going to fall out. The hammock is made from a solid sheet of fabric, not rope, and it wraps around my body slightly.

  The sun warms my skin and the gentle breeze rocks me as I close my eyes and settle in. My mind turns to thoughts of James and Garrett and where they may be and what they may be doing. I think of LB and hope she’s not giving Garrett too much grief, although he deserves it. My thoughts wander and I try to imagine where I’ll be in a month or two. There’s no place else I’d rather be, except for home. I wouldn’t mind staying here. It’s practically perfect.

  When I open my eyes, I know time has passed because the sun has shifted in the sky. I must have dozed off for an hour, maybe two. I’m hot from lying in the sun so long, and I feel sticky. I look to my right and notice Dane lying on his stomach, floating on a raft in the pool. I try to get out of the hammock gracefully, but my muscles are stiff from being cradled in the same position for so long. I half step-half tumble out and catch my balance by grabbing on to the material. I roll my eyes as I wait for his teasing to begin, but it doesn’t come. I walk over to the side of the pool and stare at him. When he doesn’t so much as twitch after several minutes, I realize he’s asleep under his sunglasses. My mind flashes to this morning and it’s hard to suppress my grin. This is too easy.

  I move around the pool to where I’m closest to him. My plan is to jump in and scare him, so he’ll flip off his raft. I crouch down and sit on the balls of my feet, waiting for him to float just a bit closer. But as I watch him, I hesitate. I’m not sure if it’s from all the comments he’s been throwing around today or what, but I take this private moment to look at him. I mean really study him. It’s hard to find the right words to describe his appearance. Handsome? Beautiful? Good-looking? Hot? He’s all of those things. My eyes roam over the tanned length of his body, and I wonder what in the hell is he doing here with me. No wonder Teagan is upset at losing him, vain woman that she is. He is arm cand
y. But, he’s also so much more than that. He has one of the kindest hearts I’ve ever known.

  “I can see you,” he says out of nowhere.

  Damn! Rather than show my embarrassment, I tip my head and say, “Oh, really? Can you see this?”

  And with that, I stand and launch myself into the pool, pulling my knees up and landing just to the side of his raft. The splash feels enormous, and I’m confident I’ve completed my mission.

  When I pop up from beneath the water I see any empty raft floating in front of me. I know I’m in trouble, so I swim as fast as I can toward the stairs of the pool. I feel a hand graze my ankle and let out a yelp as I try to swim faster. Darn clothes! They’re holding me back! By some miracle I manage to get to the steps and out of the pool before he catches me. I turn around to face him, dripping. He’s standing waist deep in the pool with his arms crossed, his sunglasses lost, and a smirk on his face.

  “I told you to watch your back,” I laugh and reach up to wring my hair.

  “Looks like you were the one watching.”

  Whatever. I will not allow him to rattle me and take away my victory. “This makes us even.” I point at him. “That will teach you to throw around your stinky clothes!”

  “You talk a good game,” he says and walks toward me. “Come here and show me you mean it.”

  I don’t think so. He’s not luring me back into the water. All he has to do is get ahold of me the right way and it’s over; before I know it, we’ll be making out in the pool. I shake my head and look at myself. “I need to change.” I back toward the sliding door. “We’re tied; there’s nothing to prove.” When I reach the door, I turn around. “I’m hungry,” I shout to him. “You want anything?”

  He gives me an exasperated stare, and I realize I just asked a loaded question. I open the door and step inside before he can answer.

  “Hello?”

  Dane answers his cell without looking at it. We’ve just returned from a grocery run and my arms are full of bags. It’s nearly the end of second week together and we were just about out of everything. I’m glad we made it back in time too; the sky looks like it’s about to open up any minute and dump buckets of rain.

  “What?” he scowls into the phone.

  I set the bags on the counter then turn around to help him by taking the ones he is carrying. He doesn’t look happy.

  “That’s none of your business,” he snaps.

  I walk around the breakfast bar, setting the remaining bags on the island. I start to unload what we bought and pull out the deli meat to put in the refrigerator. I hear Dane sigh loudly, and when I look at him, he has his head down with his hand on his hip.

  “He’s right; I did quit.”

  He must be speaking with his father. This could get ugly.

  “No!”

  I avert my eyes and busy myself with the groceries.

  “There’s nothing to discuss…no, I’m not telling you when I’m coming back…because it doesn’t matter! Whatever. I told you before I don’t want it. I don’t know! Keep it, sell it, I don’t care.”

  I open the pantry to find a home for the chips.

  “Who cares what they think? Tell them the truth...fine, then, lie! We all know you need to protect your precious reputation!”

  I sneak a glance at him. He’s upset.

  “Really?” He laughs sarcastically. “You need to take a long look in the mirror before you can say that to me…What? You’ve forgotten all about Brock?”

  Who’s Brock?

  “That’s right. You keep living in your delusionary world.” He eyes flash to me, and I look away.

  He lets out a frustrated breath. “Then go get it, who’s stopping you? I want everything out by the time I get back.”

  He remains silent for a moment and allows the caller to rant. I can tell by the way he shakes his head that what they’re saying is ridiculous to him. Finally, he cuts the person off in a harsh tone. “I’m done with this. Get your stuff and get out,” he snaps and hangs up. He looks at his phone and then at me, his mouth set. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  “It wasn’t too bad.”

  He comes around the counter to help me unpack. We work in silence until he stops, paper towel in hand. “Can you believe her? She told my dad I quit.”

  “Her?”

  “Teagan.”

  Ah. That’s not good. “I’m sorry.”

  “Anything to meddle in my life,” he mutters.

  “Who’s Brock?” I ask.

  He snorts. “The guy she was sleeping with in South America.”

  My eyes grow wide. “What?”

  He gives me a sarcastic smile. “It gets lonely in the jungle.”

  “Oh.” I feel bad for him, and I can sort of relate. “At least James can’t sleep with Meg.”

  “Who’s Meg?”

  I roll my eyes. “James’ Brock.”

  Dane stops in his tracks and looks at me, surprised. “James has a Guardian girlfriend?”

  “Possibly.” I shrug and take the paper towel from his hands. I bend down to put it under the sink. “He says they’re just friends, but I’m pretty sure she wants more. He denies it, though.” When I stand Dane is frozen, staring at me. “What?”

  “James is messing around with another girl?”

  “No; well, he says he’s not. I mean, I know he cares about her, but she’s been captured, so…” I can see the wheels turning in his head. What is he thinking?

  Lightning flashes, drawing my attention to the windows. “Looks like the storm is here.”

  Dane turns to look, too. Thunder cracks, effectively ending our conversation, and we finish putting the food away.

  Within the next half hour, the wind starts to pick up and rain pounds against the house. Thunder that sounded distant at first creeps closer with every rumble. It’s kind of scary being surrounded by this much glass, and I watch the palm trees on the patio bend and sway. I wonder if we should have at least stacked the patio furniture to prevent it from being tossed in the wind.

  “Well, that’s that,” Dane says from behind me.

  “What’s what?”

  “The satellite went out.” He tosses the remote on the couch. “Now what?”

  I shrug. “Guess you’ll have to pick up a book and read.”

  He makes a face.

  “Wait.” I walk down the hallway toward the bedroom and open the small linen closet there. I remember seeing some board games when I was looking for towels the other day. “Do you want to play Clue?” I shout, my head buried in the closet. I loved this game as a kid. He doesn’t answer me, but I grab the game anyway. I bring it out to the living room, smiling. “I said do you want to play Clue?”

  He notices my excitement and grins back. “I take it you do?”

  I nod and set the box on the coffee table, open the lid and start setting up the game. I hope all the pieces are here. I was fascinated by all the rooms and little weapons when I was younger. Apparently, I still am. “Who do you want to be?” I ask.

  “Give me the Colonel.” He holds out his hand.

  I give him the yellow pawn for Colonel Mustard. “I’ll be Miss Scarlet,” I say and place my red piece on the correct space.

  “Miss Scarlet?” Dane smirks. “I thought you’d choose someone more pure, like Mrs. White.”

  “The maid?” I scowl. “I can be a maid in real life. I want to be the sexy vixen.”

  His eyes shoot up, and he suppresses a grin.

  I give him a tally sheet then divide the game cards into piles: one for the rooms, one for the weapons, and one for the suspects. I take a card from each pile and place them in the secret envelope then shuffle the rest. I give them to Dane to divide evenly between us.

  Once we’re ready, I roll the dice and move four spaces. Dane rolls and moves ten, landing in the lounge. “Okay,” he says. “I think it was Professor Plum in the lounge with the…” He peruses the board. “Knife.” He moves both Plum and the knife into the lounge.


  I sift through my cards and show him the knife. He marks it down.

  I roll again and move, ending up in the hall. “I think it was you,” I move his piece, “in the hall with the candlestick.”

  He flips through his cards and shows me the hall. I mark it on my paper.

  “Do you ever wonder why Mr. Boddy was murdered?” Dane asks, referring to the fictitious victim in the game of Clue.

  “Because he was rich?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think it was the money. I have another theory.” He rolls the dice.

  “What’s that?”

  “I think,” he moves seven spaces, “that Mr. Boddy was having an affair with Miss Scarlet, but he thought she was also having an affair with the Colonel.”

  I smirk. “You think he committed suicide because she was cheating on him?”

  “Nope,” he says and folds his hands. “Mrs. Peacock was the Colonel’s ex and was unhappy that he had moved on with that hussy Scarlet.”

  “So Mrs. Peacock did it to frame Mustard?”

  “She wanted to, but she didn’t have it in her. She contracted Mr. Green, who used to be Boddy’s business partner, but was recently let go under suspicious circumstances. She hired him to do it.”

  I pretend to be shocked and bring my hand to my chest. “Mr. Green killed Mr. Boddy to frame Mustard and avenge Peacock, just because she was upset with the Colonel for banging Scarlet?”

  He smiles. “Yes. But unfortunately, neither Peacock or Green nor Boddy knew that, in reality, Mustard and Scarlet hadn’t done anything. They were just friends.”

  I pretend to pout. “Poor Mr. Boddy.”

  “Yeah,” Dane fakes sympathy. “The least Scarlet and Mustard could have done was actually sleep together. Then Boddy’s death wouldn’t have been in vain.”

  I see the parallels he’s drawing here. I roll my eyes and hold out my hand. “You have a very active imagination. Give me the dice.”

  He grins.

  After a few turns, I’ve narrowed the weapons down to the poison. I’m still stuck with two suspects though, the Colonel and Mr. Green, and four rooms. I’m feeling really competitive; maybe it’s the sound of the raging storm outside that fuels my desire to win. Or maybe it’s Dane. Every time I compete against him – mini golf, Go Karts – I can’t bear the thought of losing.