by Arlene Webb
Sandwich and juice hit the ground, and the weight of sickness left her. Before she could straighten, her colors balanced her. “I feel better, now, thanks. Let’s get going.”
But, no puke and run. Damon gripped her elbow. Why’d he share such wild currents, yet Caream bruised? It’d also be a good thing if she understood her own problem. She hadn’t done the vomit thing since her divorce days.
“I hate when you lie. You’re not okay.” Damon tossed his hair back and rubbed his temple. Worry echoed from his sharp words. “I hurt you in the pool. Your heart wasn’t happy under water.”
“No, no. You didn’t hurt me. In about ten miles, there’ll be motels in Moriatry. Er…you’re starting to—”
He dropped Jaylynn’s arm. Rage filled Damon’s eyes, his glare on his hand. “Sorry.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another, like an anxious little kid. “Hospitals can fix this sick?” No pause, before his low voice softened. “Caream, you’ll hide. Jaylynn, I won’t let them poison you. Let’s go hunt one.”
“Forget the hospital,” Jaylynn said. “People…do get sick…” The relief on their faces was so sweet. Even better, her wave of exhaustion dissolved as Damon lifted her into his arms. Caream opened the door, Jaylynn collapsed into the back seat, and security and warmth deserted her as stress slammed back. Damon stood by the window, glaring at Caream in the driver seat.
“You can be a fool,” Caream hissed at Damon, “and break this car too, but you should try and fix her. She likes your ugly, hot hands.”
“You fix her. I won’t break this car. I will break you. Why do you always get to drive?”
“Why do you always make her cry?” Caream turned the key.
Why do I always feel helpless? Jaylynn couldn’t stop shivering. And dammit, her empty stomach churned.
Damon threw himself down beside Jaylynn and slammed the door so it bent into its frame. The thought of Wesley’s face, his baby with even one scratch almost made her nausea settle.
Caream accelerated east. The interstate belonged to them in the quiet predawn hours, and the dusty high plains flew by increasing Jaylynn’s dizziness. Except, maybe it wasn’t the scenery, but the guy beside her. A creature of power, deadly ability, and stubbornness to rival Attila the Hun had picked her over the driving obsession. If not for the chills going through her, she’d melt into a puddle of happiness.
Jaylynn fumbled with a towel, and proactive male hands seized her. Damon pushed her across the seat on her stomach and pulled her legs over his lap. Electricity penetrated clothing. The back of her shirt and her jeans became fresh-from-the-dryer toasty with two strokes, and Damon flipped her. She clamped her eyes closed. Bright red spots merged and coupled into lines behind her eyelids.
As supernatural fingers deserted her dried hair and face and lowered, Jaylynn began to sizzle with anticipation. Her breathing quickened as her stomach clenched, and Damon’s gentle caress froze above her breasts. She managed to lift trembling fingers to grasp his arm. Innocent sweetheart.
He settled his palm, flat and still, on her stomach. As soon as she relaxed her breathing, Damon pulled her into his arms. He held her in a cradle of warmth, his hands secure on her arms. Patience wasn’t in Damon’s character. Confused, he’d blame himself. She had to talk to him. Jaylynn lifted the ton weighting her eyelids, and stared up into beautiful, worried red.
“I’ll try harder not to make you sick,” Damon whispered. “Why… Caream, what’s that noise?”
The music stopped. Caream held up Jaylynn’s ringing cell.
“Let me answer,” Jaylynn muttered. Stuck dealing with the town gossip, Mary had to be frantic.
Damon settled her on his lap and reached. Caream let go of the BMW wheel, traveling a billion miles per hour, to hand the mobile toward Jaylynn.
Jaylynn slapped Damon’s wrist, took the mobile, and flinched as he balled his chastised hand into a fist. She smiled, collapsed against him, and clicked to open the call.
“Please listen carefully, Jaylynn.” A soft, cool, masculine voice flowed in her ear. “My name’s Malcolm. I hear two like me with you. I need their help. Where are you?”
Oh. My. God.
“How do you know them?” The phone shook in Jaylynn’s hand. “Who are you?”
Adrenalin exploded through her veins. She sat up. This man knew of her colors. He was another one!
“Jaylynn, a beautiful name. Let me clarify. I’m like them, and have accepted the name of Malcolm. I’m in Cleveland, Ohio, a house, 55 Tanglewood, off Bainbrook drive in Chagrin Falls. I’ve traced you through the police network. Where are you, and why do you sound so fatigued?”
“Outside Albuquerque, but the police—” Current flooded into her arm. “Damon!”
“Don’t touch that,” Caream yelled, while Jaylynn’s hand emptied.
“Malcolm…where’d he go?” Damon thrust the phone back. “Sorry. Fix it. Hurry.”
Unreal. Damon’s thumbprint had pressed into the casing. The indentation didn’t go that deep, yet the phone seemed inoperable. No power to get the number out of memory, nor could she remember caller id. Maybe lack of charge had killed the cell, not just from being short-circuited by the redhead shaking with frustration.
“Not your fault, Damon, I think it needs a recharge,” she said. “Wow. Malcolm said he’s like both of you!” Exhaustion crept back over Jaylynn. Blackness edged her vision. “He can’t call me until I get this worthless phone working. One of you remember the address? We could stop and ask information, but I don’t know his full name. Cleveland is east…can’t be that far. Should we drive there?”
“Yes.” Damon bounced in place, his eyes lit with anticipation. “Malcolm. Cleveland. I don’t smell him anywhere. When I drive, will we get there in five minutes?”
“We might reach him in four minutes,” Caream’s happy voice floated from the front, “if you, Stupid-Breaks-Everything, shuts up about driving. I’ll find Cleveland on the atlas. Wish I could talk to him now. Maybe this Malcolm knows why we’re here and how to get back. Give Jaylynn some water, she smells wrong.”
Another color! Er…what? “I smell bad?”
“Not bad, wrong.” Damon bit the top off a water bottle and enclosed Jaylynn in his arms. He held the jagged plastic to her lips. “Malcolm didn’t lie, but he’s confused. He can’t be like us. I hope he’s like me, not ugly Caream. He isn’t confused about wanting help.” Lovely water tipped down her throat. “This takes too long. I’ll listen for him. Swallow again, Jaylynn, and stay quiet. Caream, you shut up all the way to Cleveland.”
Good to know Malcolm spoke the truth. A police trap hadn’t entered her mind, when the thought of another—what color? Hopefully not puke green or something. For some reason, sapphire sparkles played behind Jaylynn’s closed eyes. Wonderful cool tones, Malcolm had a compelling voice. It didn’t seem possible the ultimate lie detector, holding her snug in his arms, could isolate that voice across the continent.
A moment later, Damon groaned and freed his arm to rub his head like he wanted to rip it off. “Millions of men, but I failed. Can’t hear him. I’ll keep trying. Jaylynn, you rest. I won’t have to listen to you yelling when you’re sleeping.” His arm went back around her, and Damon grumbled on. “It’s taking forever to find Cleveland. Malcolm needs help, but I sit here doing nothing.”
He quieted, distracted by Jaylynn’s shaking hand as she took the mangled water bottle from him. She forced another gulp, leaned back, and the bottle slid free. He caught it, and flung the plastic at the driver.
“Damon, it’s many…sorry, around a thousand miles to Cleveland.”
“Sleep. We’ll locate this Malcolm.” Damon soothed her eyes closed. His seductive breath filled her lungs. “I made you stay under that water too long. Have to be more careful, keep you safe from me…”
A masculine lullaby whispered in her ear, while feathery current played against her stomach. Damon’s hand slid under her shirt to lie flat. Warmth flowed over her skin, his arm tight arou
nd her.
* * * *
Bright sunlight slapped her face, and Jaylynn wondered why she lay on the backseat of a car. Memories flooded back. It hadn’t been a wonderful, horrible dream. Parked in her ex’s stolen BMW, not a clue where, panic set in and Jaylynn jerked herself up.
Gas station. Damon had his backside to her, less than fifteen feet away. A large, elderly woman held Jaylynn’s purse and stood with him beside a deep green pickup. Damon held the woman’s arm. His vivid hair whipped to the side, he cracked a grin at Jaylynn, and her pulse quickened. He turned back to the woman and said something to make her laugh.
Jaylynn ran her fingers through her tousled hair. No yelling or guns firing, and Damon smiled while the daylight sparkled around him. Maybe something terrible wasn’t happening or about to. Maybe no one screamed because the attendants were already dead.
Maybe she should snap out of the maybes, and open the door before her warrior crushed it.
Damon yanked her out. “Jaylynn, this is Lydia.” He gestured at the elderly lady. “She’s the most pretty woman I’ve ever seen. Did you know there were people this safe?”
Lydia appeared almost blind behind thick black-rimmed glasses. She held a cane and stepped forward to lean on Damon’s arm. Jaylynn’s smile widened. The woman wore a burgundy dress. A red scarf covered her head, not a single wisp of white hair, or any hair, stuck out. Her gnarled face was twisted with age, her smile wide and toothless, and her wrinkled skin was flawless ebony.
“Your strong husband is something else.” Lydia peered at Jaylynn. “He worried you’d get angry if he went inside to find food that you…er…wouldn’t vomit. My grandson brought some stuff to settle your stomach.” She handed Jaylynn her purse. Damon caressed Lydia’s fleshy arm and stared down at the woman through the shades.
“He won’t answer why his skin’s so red. Not that it doesn’t look very fine on him.” Lydia cackled with glee and slapped Damon’s stroking hand. “And what’s with the little orange woman? One look, my grandson’s in love. You’ve a very interesting family for a white girl.”
At the pump, Caream talked with a gangly animated boy, not more than sixteen. The mesmerized teen held a box of crackers and a bottle of ginger ale. His dark eyes were glued to Caream.
“Jaylynn, she’s not mean.” Damon’s gaze roved past Lydia’s dark face, up and down her ample body. “She’s too beautiful to leave. Can we keep her?”
Jaylynn gulped. This delighted old lady didn’t realize he was dead serious. “You can’t have every lovely person you find. Sorry.”
Oh dear. Eyebrows knotted, lower lip pushed out, his foot stomp would come next.
“She has a family who needs her. Will you be okay if I go inside for a minute? Please don’t do anything you shouldn’t.” Like kidnap a two hundred pound octogenarian.
“Sweetie, you’re playing with fire leaving this gorgeous redhead with me.” Lydia laughed, large breasts shaking. “Go, young lady, I’ll keep him company.”
“Playing with fire?” Damon’s two second, toe bouncing dance dropped Lydia’s jaw. “Explain. Then tell me why everyone isn’t like you and the man with Caream.”
Jaylynn knew exactly what his rub on the woman’s arm felt like. The scent coming from him was another reason Lydia smiled. And wow, speaking of enchanted, Damon looked so happy. Not only did he find Lydia attractive, she hadn’t yelled at him or mauled him. Priceless to him, like words, water—suppose Lydia has a lighter? Hurry, you idiot.
On her way to the restroom, Jaylynn passed an older guy talking to the younger male attendant. Pasty Caucasians, they stared through the large window at Damon and Lydia.
A rack of sunglasses stood on the counter, but it’d be insanity to contemplate sacrificing a minute to buy a few dozen pairs. She shouldn’t be leaving Thing One and Thing Two alone as it is, and no Cat in a Hat could control those two. Malcolm? You ready for us?
Jaylynn washed her hands and studied herself in the mirror. She looked like crap. The facial bruise from whacking her steering wheel had blackened, but she still couldn’t compete with a black-skinned great-grandmother. Jaylynn shoved her broken comb back in her purse and managed not to hit the roof as the door slammed open.
Damon strode in. Familiar waves of hot anger vibrated from him. “We must leave. Yell later.” He yanked her to him and whirled her out of the bathroom.
“What’s wrong?”
“Lydia was afraid. She cried.” He propelled her through the station. “I said yes, we’d flee damn police. Again.”
“Police? What’d you do?”
He pushed the door with a flat hand—it shattered into thousands of glass fragments. His face twisted in a vehement snarl, Damon lifted Jaylynn over the glittering pebbles of glass to face the parking lot.
The attendant and the older man lay propped against a gas pump. In the truck, the frightened teenager glanced at them and tore out of the station. Lydia waved while they shot down the road. Caream sat in the driver seat of the BMW.
“What happened? Are those men dead?”
Damon thrust Jaylynn in the back. “Talk later.” He stomped to the driver’s door.
Caream glared at him through the open window. “Things are getting strange again. Stop being a fool and do something. What if she throws up the baby like ex-food?”
“Huh? What baby?” Jaylynn asked. Police sirens approached. Explaining a colorful murder rap to her parents would prove interesting.
With a deep sigh, Damon jumped to curl next to Jaylynn. He smashed the door into the frame while Caream hit the gas. “Okay, Caaareeeam,” he growled her name like a swear word. “After the baby stops throwing food out, I’ll throw you from that control seat. Why didn’t you let me take them? The old one’s jaw cracked. I break your face; maybe you’d learn how to hit.”
Jaylynn caught a glimpse of the city of Tulsa, Oklahoma flying by. She grasped Damon’s arm. “Are they dead?”
He threw his sunglasses in the cup holder, knocking it off the door. With a snarl that’d terrify a rabid tiger, Damon picked up the glasses and tossed them into the front. He grabbed the box of crackers and that snarl flipped. His sexy grin exploded across his face. Anticipation lit his expression making him so gorgeous she couldn’t breathe, let alone contemplate what new disaster they’d left behind them.
“Lydia said crackers are good. Eat. Please the baby.” Damon thrust the mangled box at her. “Why can’t I hear your baby? If you get the baby out now, will they smell wrong like ex-food? How’d it get in you? Lydia said it’d be beautiful—maybe red!”
Just how unreal could life get? Damon quivered with excitement and stared at Jaylynn like he’d give her, maybe, a half a second before he tried to shake a child out of her.
“Ahh…there is no baby. How’d you ever get that idea? You know what a baby is?”
Damon’s jaw dropped. In a blink, he went from joy to shock.
“But the beautiful lady said you must be pregnant,” Caream called out. “That’s why you were sick and yelling more than usual. When Damon asked, pregnant? She said yes, a sweet little red baby growing in your wife’s stomach.”
Why, oh why, were these things happening to her? The obvious reaction—hilarious—to being confused as a receptacle for a virgin birth to a colorful alien shook Jaylynn. Snorts of laughter burst from her lips, her inability to instantly explain too much for Damon. He knocked her flat and yanked up her shirt.
“Stop that!”
“No. You stop it.” His fiery hair spread over her black bra. He rested his head on her belly. “Don’t explode. Your heart hurts my ears—there’s no breathing inside, but you.”
Damon lifted himself off her. “I wanted to hold a little person.” His tone softened into bitterness. “I killed the baby. In the pool.” To her disbelief, blood tears welled in his eyes. “Sorry. I’m always sorry. You’re too fragile. I have to stop touching you. Jaylynn—I’m—this is too terrible.” He lowered devastated eyes of fire and huddled against the door as far awa
y from her as he could get.
Jaylynn had to handle this and fast. Forget the hopefully-not-dead men at the garage for now, and spit out a simplified version of the facts of life.
“Did the baby drown?” Caream sounded close to tears also.
“Absolutely not. No one drowned.” Jaylynn yanked her shirt down and slid into the grieving man. She ignored Damon’s flinch, wiped crimson tears from his cheek, and smiled. “Stop wasting good water.” She glanced up front. “Both of you. Listen, you guys, there is no baby, so of course it didn’t die.” She snuggled closer. “Stop thinking you hurt me, Damon. Lydia was confused because you said I was sick. If there was a baby, you’d hear the heartbeat, but trust me, there never was.”
“Never-was? That’s still sad.” Damon’s grief evaporated. “But I didn’t kill your never-was baby.” A deep relieved sigh and his excitement returned. “Jaylynn, I’ll help you grow a baby. I want to make one. Now. Tell me how.”
“Um, we should forget about babies.” Jaylynn felt her face flush, and his eyes lit even more.
“Okay.” Damon stroked her hot cheek and shrugged. “Sorry. Can’t forget never-was babies. I tried for a long second. But talk about that later. Jaylynn? I want to play. Like in the pool, before I drowned you. I’ve waited forever. You teach how not to break the gears, I’ll teach fun touching, after I fix one problem.”
She gulped, he pushed her aside, and the maniac leapt over the seat. “Never-was-baby means I drive.”
“Leave me alone,” Caream yelped. “I like this car. Can’t you do something with him, Jaylynn?”
“No one can do anything with invincible. How would you like your pain?” Damon ran his hand through Caream’s hair. “I’ll pull this ugly stuff out. Bash your head—”
“My word, Damon, can’t you behave for two short seconds?” Jaylynn grabbed the bottle of ginger ale. “Help me open this. Tell me what else Lydia said.”
Damon dropped fiery strands of orange hair. His demonic glare locked on Jaylynn. Not good. Not good at all.
