by Jen Colly
“And Graydon is chasing after Meg now?”
“No, that’s not what he’s doing. Graydon seems to think Meg is taking this separation harder than Titus. He’s worried she might leave this world, and in turn, take Titus with her.” Dyre’s focus seemed to clear, and with a quick shake of his head, he reset his posture. “But you’re not here for Titus.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and dropped it into Rollin’s hand. “What is this?”
“Apologies for not delivering it earlier, but you haven’t been home. Navarre only said you’d know what this was for,” Dyre said.
Flipping the key over, Rollin inspected the etching. The key belonged to a home around the corner. Though he’d only asked for temporary separation from his family, Navarre apparently meant to extend that one step further.
“Thanks for this, but I actually came by to have a word with you,” Rollin said, pulling his thoughts back to his original reason for being here. “You should know Gian has been fighting again.”
Dyre lifted an eyebrow. “That’s hardly news.”
“And losing,” Rollin added. “He was in rough shape last time I saw him.”
Dyre digested the information, then more from curiosity than concern, asked, “Who did he fight?”
Rollin let out a heavy sigh. “Jovan.”
“Well then, of course he’s going to lose. I do appreciate the information, but I can no more influence my brother than you can yours.”
“That I understand well.” Rollin leaned closer, the tenor of his voice dropping as he said, “But Gian is betting on the outcome and losing. You might want to find out how much money he’s lost.”
Dyre straightened, suddenly stiff and reserved. “I’ll handle it.”
And that was that, the end of the conversation. Dyre turned away, ducked inside his home, and closed the door, leaving Rollin and Bette standing in the corridor.
The Ashfords were notorious for viciously guarding their wealth, even from their own children. To this day Rollin hadn’t figured out why. It wasn’t in Dyre to siphon money, favors, or treasures from anyone, let alone blood family. As far as he knew, Gian had never done so either, at least not until Jovan had befriended him. The way Dyre had reacted was troubling, making him wonder what ran deeper within that family. However, this wasn’t his family, and none of his business. Nothing could be done but for him to shake off his unease.
“Your brothers are fighting?” Bette asked, putting herself into the spotlight for the first time since they’d stopped to speak with the men in 6-206. He couldn’t blame her for being hesitant around three intimidating Guardians in an unfamiliar city.
“I don’t think it’s personal, though I’m not sure that makes it any better,” he said, but couldn’t elaborate. He truly didn’t understand them at all.
“I can’t say that I understand the inclination to fight for the sake of fighting,” she said, then peered up at him, seeming to await his response.
He instantly thought of Cat and the way she relished picking fights with certain Guardians, the event often resulting in some physical damage. Pre-pregnancy, of course. Then there was Dulcina. Of the six of them, three were absolute brawlers, living for the high of the fight, the adrenaline rush of not knowing what would happen next. The other half, including himself, Maeryn and Oriana, treasured consistency and peace.
“You’re not alone. I don’t understand the desire to beat on someone for fun either,” Rollin said, and to say it out loud was oddly liberating.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak his mind among his family, he could, but no one listened. Eventually he’d closed off, said nothing. This was different. He seemed to always have Bette’s complete attention, and as she spoke with him rather than at him, he’d quickly become comfortable enough to drop his guard.
“I’m sure the other men are thankful you think that way. I imagine you’d be quite a daunting opponent,” she said, playfully nudging him with her elbow.
He shrugged, unsure of how to take the compliment. Knowing he had no intention of fighting, she was teasing him, but that she saw him as a force to be reckoned with made him want to puff his chest with masculine pride.
Rollin liked seeing this side of her. She’d made great progress throughout the night, and although she was still a little skittish around other people, she’d gained a great deal of confidence. Perhaps this key tucked against the palm of his hand would help deepen that comfort level here in Balinese.
“I have something to show you. It’s just down here.”
“This isn’t familiar,” Bette said as she walked with him arm in arm. “Isn’t your home the other way? Behind us?”
“It is.” Rollin steered her down a narrow corridor on their left, and at the first door, he paused to unlock the door. “It’s between owners, but you can stay here for a few days, which should be long enough to figure out a more permanent solution.”
“Oh?”
He popped the door open and guided her inside. “I thought you’d like your space.”
She blinked, scanning the room from left to right, looking for all the world like she was trying to figure out what was going on. Finally, she gazed up at him and asked, “My…space?”
“There’s not much room in my home and, well, maybe I should have said privacy. I thought you might like your privacy,” he said, and as she nodded slowly, there was a slight frown to her lips. “You don’t seem too happy.”
“No, I am. I’m a bit overwhelmed at the moment,” she said, but the words were half-hearted, and he couldn’t get a bead on why. “How long would I stay here?”
“A few days. Maybe less.” He untangled his arm from hers and hurried over to the telephone stand on the little oak table. “Here’s the number to my home, and I’m right around the corner if you need anything.”
Rollin set the pen down and glanced up at her. She still looked dazed, her stare unfocused. Bette didn’t say anything, didn’t even seem to be taking it all in anymore. It was like she was stuck.
“Hey,” he said, but she didn’t look at him until he was standing before her. “You’ll be fine. You’re as safe here as you are with me. There’s an emergency button on the wall, and those friends we stopped in to see? They live directly between this home and mine and they’re all excellent Guardians. You couldn’t possibly sleep in a safer corridor. Do you think you’ll be all right?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what to say,” she said, her voice sounding as stunned as she looked. “I’m grateful.”
“Well, don’t get too choked up. Your clothes won’t come until tomorrow, and there’s nothing here to eat.” Rollin went to the door, turning to face her once more as he stood in the doorway. “Don’t worry about that, though. I’ll come take you to breakfast. We’ll figure things out from there.”
“One day at a time.” She nodded, sending him a hesitant wave.
“That’s a good plan,” he said, then backed out of the room, closing the door between them.
Rollin worried about leaving her alone. He shouldn’t, but he couldn’t quite gauge her reaction, or rather, lack of reaction. In a strange way, Rollin felt as if he’d just abandoned her, which was ridiculous. He hadn’t. Still, he couldn’t shake this nagging suspicion that she wasn’t being honest with him, or perhaps with herself.
Chapter 12
Balinese
Bette woke with a start, pushing away from the headboard. She had the presence of mind to remember where she was and why she was here, but the last thing she remembered was sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed. Numb. She’d never expected to fall asleep. At some point she must have leaned against the headboard while watching the door and dozed off.
She had no need to remain vigilant. There was no impending threat beyond the door. No one to terrorize her at any given hour of the day or night, and knowing those things helped a great de
al, but if she were being honest with herself, she wanted Rollin to come back.
The entire time he’d been at her side, she hadn’t been that shell of a woman she’d become. Bette had been happy. Her fears seemed distant, and the sting of unpleasant memories had begun to fade, until she’d been alone.
A slow, quiet knock seemed to penetrate the room, and Bette bounded off the bed and raced into the main room. She was so sure it was Rollin at the door that she hadn’t stopped to think until that large white door loomed before her. One lock.
“I don’t need a dozen locks. They’re not here,” she whispered, concentrating on the words and her voice as she backed away from the door trying to calm herself. “They can’t hurt me here.”
Knocking. It was happening again.
“No,” she said, her hands holding the sides of her head, though she wasn’t sure if she blocked the knocking, or her own rampant thoughts. “This is Balinese. It’s only…”
Would Rollin even return? Sometimes people didn’t come back. Her parents hadn’t come home.
What if it wasn’t Rollin on the other side of the door? Had Guardians come to throw her out of the city? Despite his Guardian status, Rollin may have little control over what happened to her.
Bette drew in a deep breath, but it was shaky. She was shaky. She had to let go of this fear, to reclaim her rational side, and while she’d seen glimpses of who she’d once been when with Rollin, she now recognized she’d been forever changed. There was no going back, at least not completely.
The knocking began again, soft at first, but rising, and it wasn’t coming from the door. It was all around her. Behind her. Inside the home. Making a dash for the door, she threw the small lock and bolted outside.
Rollin was down the hall. She needed to find him, to feel safe again, but as she approached the end of the corridor, fear took over once more. She didn’t know what was in the room, didn’t know what was around the corner in the larger corridor. Everything bombarded her at once. Bette was safe. She heard knocking. The Guardians here would protect her. She couldn’t see anything she needed protection from. And out here in the corridor, she suddenly, and very distinctly, felt the sun’s call. She didn’t know how to answer, couldn’t even find her way out of the city. She was trapped.
Bette sank to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees. Distracted and enjoying her time with Rollin, she hadn’t specifically felt the sun rise. She felt it now, curling inside her, and if she didn’t hold her knees tight, she’d run.
“You okay down there?” A deep, lazy voice asked from several feet away. Wide-eyed, she looked up to see the man who had followed the group of school children. Graydon?
“Yes,” she managed to say.
“Right,” Graydon said, dragging out the word. “’Cause this is how doin’ good looks.”
“I can’t… Someone was… The knocking,” she whispered, shaking her head, not brave enough to look directly at Graydon. “I can’t go back.”
“Fair enough. Want me to check it out?”
She nodded, and with her back pressed to the wall, from the corner of her eye, she saw him slip into the room. Seconds ticked by, and though she was certain he wouldn’t find anything, she almost hoped he would. If this were all in her head again, how would she be able to differentiate between paranoia and reality?
Graydon exited the room and approached her again, but this time, he bent his knees and came down to her level. “Not even a bug crawlin’ around. Don’t suppose that matters, though.”
Bette shook her head.
“All right, I’ll take you to Rollin,” he said, reaching out to help her up, but as soon as his hand came within an inch of hers, something inside her snapped.
She was cornered, helpless, didn’t want to be touched. Bette smacked his hand away and pushed back harder against the wall, trying to put as much distance as she could between them.
“Jesus,” he mumbled under his breath. “I’ll bring him to you then.”
Adrenaline was surging through her, her senses on high alert, preparing her to fight, or run. Graydon took off around the corner and she heard him pounding on a door. She should be relieved that he was helping her, that he would find Rollin for her, but that sound of a fist on a door… Bette covered her ears to drown out the sound.
“My what?” she heard Rollin’s muffled voice echoing from down the corridor, and she took her hands from her ears and stilled, listening, waiting for him.
“Your girl needs you,” Graydon said.
Footsteps hurried toward her and Bette fought to stay where she was, to remember she was safe. Yes, Guardians were coming for her, but not Valenna Guardians.
“What happened?” Rollin asked Graydon, the empty corridor causing his voice to reverberate even as he drew near.
“Don’t know. She thought someone was inside. I checked it out. Heat kicked on. Nothin’ but creaky pipes. Think she got spooked?”
Bette gasped at Graydon’s answer. Heating pipes? She was running scared because heating pipes were knocking around in the floors?
The men came around the corner, and Rollin stood before her, his bare feet on the stone floor. She couldn’t stop trembling. Her fingers bit into her arms as she tried to hold herself together. Her body wouldn’t calm, her frantic mind refused to slow, and she was so embarrassed by what had triggered her fears that she couldn’t bear to look at him.
Bette squeezed her eyes closed as Rollin crouched down before her. The only thing she could take pride in was the fact that she hadn’t cried. She was twitchy and exhausted, and not at all interested in the lengthy explanation about the expansion and contractions of radiant heating pipes typically used in large cities. She knew this. Her mind hadn’t cared.
Without warning, and without a single word, Rollin scooped her up. Bette squeaked, reaching out to grab hold of him, fearful of falling only because she hadn’t been aware he was preparing to lift her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She was half afraid of what he thought of her, and terribly upset for having put him through this again, but all he said was, “Can’t say you didn’t try.”
“You good?” Graydon asked.
“I’m okay,” Bette answered, but after she had, she was certain he hadn’t been asking her this time.
“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks, Graydon,” Rollin said, and then they were on the move, leaving Graydon to go his own way.
Rollin didn’t say anything as he carried her into his home, through the living room and set her down on the bed. “I’m going to lock the door quick, then I’ll be right back.”
Bette climbed off the bed, her wobbly legs protesting the movement. Following him into the living room, she sat on the couch, and when she sank down into the cushions, she curled onto her side.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I can’t put you out two nights in a row,” she said, tucking her palm under her cheek. “Let me take the couch.”
Again he said nothing as he lifted her and brought her back to the bed and pulled a fuzzy blanket over her. He stayed at her side for a long while, and when she finally got brave enough to look up at him, he appeared concerned. “What happened, huh?”
“I thought I would be fine. I know Balinese is safe, that I’m safe, but I thought…” She let out a small groan, then asked, “Was it really just pipes in the wall?”
“Afraid so.”
She covered her face with her hands. “I feel so stupid.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s not as if you can help how your mind processes a sound. You’ll adjust.” His hand covered hers. “Now that you know you have nothing to fear, you’ve stopped shaking.”
“I’m sure it has a great deal to do with a two-hundred-plus-pound Guardian sleeping between me and the door.” She looked up at him, pushing aside a sudden bout of shyness to admit, “I’m much
better when I’m with you.”
“Well, if you think you’re doing okay, I’ll…” Rollin looked around the room as if he was searching for something, then his gaze snapped back to hers. “We never got you any pajamas. For now, I guess you could sleep in one of my shirts.”
He jumped off the bed and went digging in his dresser, quickly returning with a T-shirt. Holding it up, he judged the size of the shirt against Bette. She wasn’t tiny by any means, but still the shirt looked huge compared to her. Disappointment flickered across his face.
“Rollin?” She sat up, reaching out to place her hand over his. Savoring even this small physical contact, Bette found it suddenly hard to fathom forgoing this simple pleasure.
He looked a little dumbstruck, but came around enough to say, “Yeah?”
“I’d love to sleep in one of your shirts,” she said, pulling the soft cotton T-shirt from his hands.
Rollin retreated toward the living room, quick to give her privacy to change. “We’ll get pajamas tomorrow.”
“After breakfast?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t forgotten his promise.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling at her from the doorway. “After breakfast.”
* * * *
Bette bolted upright in bed. Terror shot through her, as did the sinking feeling that she’d finally lost the battle for her freedom, her life. She was trapped, alone, and there was no doubt in her mind that someone was inside her home. The sounds coming from the next room were certainly masculine, but unfamiliar. She gripped the covers tightly to her chest, the fabric providing no protection, but she couldn’t stop herself from putting up that flimsy barrier.
Tears pooled in her eyes and she fought the urge to cry, desperate to keep silent as long as possible, but it was difficult. She hauled in deep and shaky breaths as she stared into the darkness.
