by Jessica Lee
Her heart ached and the surge of emotion his words generated threatened to have her babbling like an idiot. Or worse, blubbering like an idiot. Shayla diverted her gaze to the landscape scene hanging over the sofa and studied the reds and yellows the artist had swirled together to form a sunset. Being face-to-face with Creed was more than she could take.
“For a man who has no experience being in a relationship, you certainly know the right things to say.” She sniffed and blinked away the threat of building tears.
“I meant every word. I’m not trying to manipulate you.” He stepped back.
“Oh, I know.” She jerked her head back to him. “That’s not what I was saying.” With her index finger, she wiped the area under her eyes. “It’s just…I…I’ve never had a man in my life who truly put me first.” Shayla sealed the distance between them and placed her palms to his chest. “Creed Donovan,” she began. “You are so worth any inconvenience or sacrifice. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine.” She rubbed her palm over his sternum, doing her best not to think about what would happen if they couldn’t get the locator out of him. What the hell she’d do if they did, and he didn’t survive. “We need to put all our energy into coming up with a plan on how to keep you here—and alive.”
“That would be the more preferable alternative.” He quirked a smile.
“Yes.” Shayla pushed away and turned for the door. “Oh wait!” She braked, spun on her heels, and went back to her desk. “I can’t believe I almost walked out of here without it.”
“What are you talking about?” Creed moved in the few steps to the edge of her desk.
Shayla peeled back the lid to the music box that had sat next to her laptop. “My good luck charm.”
“A good luck charm?” The humor in Creed’s voice could not be missed.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” She shot him a look that said, You’ll regret it. But the slight smile on his face told her he wasn’t the least bit afraid.
She scooped the pendant from the velvet-lined base of the box. “My grandfather gave this to me when I graduated high school. He said it had brought him luck, it was now mine, and he hoped it would bring me as much happiness as it had him.”
Shayla held up the intricately designed amulet. She’d always loved the look of it. The platinum-like finish had an antique feel with its elaborate twists and turns of the vine-like overlay, yet so modern at the same time. The reverse side was flat with a narrow black band that she’d never been able to quite figure out its purpose. She often marveled at the talent needed to create such a beautiful piece of art.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” She glanced over at Creed and her stomach dropped. All the color had drained from his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Who did you say gave you that?”
Reflex had her fingers closing in on the charm. “My grandfather. Why?” Her heart rate spiked, making her tremble.
“May I look at that, please? Hold it?” Creed held out his palm.
“Okay…” She came from behind the desk and placed it in his hand.
He stared down at the pendant as if it had just dropped from the surface of Mars.
“Creed…” Her pulse roared in her ears. He was scaring the crap out of her. “What’s going on?”
Absently, he sidestepped until his legs hit the sofa, then he plopped onto the surface. With the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, he plucked the amulet from his palm and flipped it over, exposing the back. “Oh. My. God.” His head slowly rocked from side to side. “What were the odds?”
“What?” Shayla cried out. “For God’s sake talk to me.”
“Shayla…” His gaze flicked to hers and he barked out a laugh. “Your ‘lucky charm’ is the time amulet the rebel stole from me last week.”
Her jaw dropped. “You are kidding me, right?” She stumbled forward, the only way to describe how she traveled from point A to point B and landed on the cushion beside Creed.
His head cranked in her direction. “I rarely ‘kid’.” His attention flipped back to the piece in his fingertips. “You know that.”
“Yeah. I know. But… How is that possible?” She scooted closer, following his line of sight, searching for something more than what she’d always seen as an ornate piece of jewelry. “Are you sure that’s it?”
Creed cocked his head at her, his expression screaming, Really?
“Well…” she drawled. “It just doesn’t look big enough, or high-tech enough to be a time-traveling device.”
“You know what they say, Shay, looks can be deceiving. And the FOA played on that concept, not wanting it to be a red flag for its true nature.” He sat back, bringing the pendant closer. “Right here.” Creed placed an index finger to the back of the amulet. In the bottom corner, the letters CMD were etched into the metal. “Those are my initials.”
“Oh shit.” Her hand went to her mouth, covering her lips. “All this time, I’ve never really paid much attention. I thought they were the jeweler’s mark.” She scanned his profile. “What does the ‘M’ stand for?”
“Michael. Creed Michael Donavan.”
“Does it still work?” The thought that she’d been holding a time-travel device in her hands all these years was mind-boggling. What if she’d activated it by accident?
“I’m sure the power levels are drained after years of inactivity.” He toyed with the oval-shaped pendant, rotating it between his fingers. “Each device is specifically keyed to recognize its owner’s DNA. The moment it’s out of connection, it deactivates. A built-in safety mechanism to prevent unauthorized personnel, or any other person who may pick it up, from accidently triggering a warp. So the moment the rebel I’d been chasing ripped it away from me, it shut down.”
“Creed!” Shayla went rigid. A warm blue glow radiated from Creed’s palm. His attention swung to the device, and it went black.
“What happened?” Her gaze flicked between Creed and her former lucky charm.
“I’d held it long enough that the residual charge detected my signature and started activating its systems. It uses the owner’s base electrical current to recharge its fuel cells. I shut it back down with a thought.”
“You seem calm.” Shayla searched his features. “That wasn’t a bad thing that it came on for a moment like that?”
Creed wrapped his fingers around the time-warping pendant, and shook his head. “We should be fine. It wasn’t on long enough to call home.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That’s why my locater has activated. After so many days without a ping or call home by this,” he held up the amulet between his fingers, “the Federation considers the enforcer lost or injured and sends out the signal along his last known recorded warp stops, searching for his locator. Once it hits its target, the locator switches on, emitting a beacon.” He turned toward Shayla. “After that, it’s not long before they come for you.” One midnight slash of a brow lifted. “It’s a beautiful system.” His voice dropped low. “If you want to be found, that is.”
“Yeah. A thing of beauty.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts.
“The fact that this ended up in your hands, I have to ask my next question…” His words trailed off, and blue eyes assessed the filigree once more. “What is your grandfather’s name?”
Anxiety stewed in her gut like a thick soup, keeping her on the edge of nausea. “Tom Maulders.” His name dropped from her lips and her eyelids shuttered, waiting on the repercussion.
“Would Tom be short for Thomas?”
She lifted her lashes. “Yes.”
Creed’s head rolled forward. “What’s his middle name, Shay?”
Closing her eyes once more, she opened her mouth and relayed the answer. “Thomas Guerry Maulders.”
Chapter Seven
“You’re his granddaughter…”
Creed stared out the passenger window of what Shayla called her SUV.
“That’s what you keep saying,” Shayla muttered, her tone unamused.
; “How the hell did this happen?” It was a rhetorical question, but it begged to be asked. “All this time…” His fist connected with the door panel with a loud thump. “All this time, you knew him. Knew where he was.” Creed’s jaw ached under the force he’d clamped against his molars. “Son of a bitch,” he chewed out.
“What are you trying to say?” Her voice went up an octave. “Do you really think I’d been holding out on you?” She slammed her palm against the steering wheel, drawing his attention away from the blur of scenery. “I had no idea my seventy-five-year-old grandfather, Tom, was the Thomas you were looking for.” A long sigh escaped her lungs. “God. Really, Creed? Like I would have instantly made that connection.”
“Christ.” He dropped his head back against the headrest and groaned. “God, no. I don’t know what I’m saying. I know there’s no way you could have made the connection. I’m sorry.” Creed dropped his head to the side, staring at Shayla’s profile. “This was just the last thing I expected, and I’m still reeling.”
“Are you regretting what happened?” One of her hands moved to the gearshift lever, the knuckles blanching under her grip. “Is that what’s going on? You wished you’d known a lot sooner before…” Shayla’s gaze flicked to Creed before returning to the road. “Before things went as far as they did?”
Did he? Is that where the frustration at finding out his way home had only been a six-hour drive away was coming from? Creed closed his eyes, trying to categorize his emotions and stop the whirlwind in his head.
The image of Shayla sitting on the blanket at the river’s edge fluttered to the forefront of his mind. The sunlight dancing through the leaves of the oak tree with the breeze, highlighting the red notes in her hair. Her eyes wide, bright, as she spoke of the joy she held in her heart for being a mom—Maddie’s mom. Shayla laughing and turning her head toward him, the warmth of her gaze enveloping him while she shared the precious moments in her life—with him.
He opened his eyes, found her hand still on the shifter, and covered her fingers with his own. “No.” Creed gave her a gentle squeeze. “I don’t regret anything.” Shayla darted a glance in his direction. “You pulled back the veil and allowed me to see the potential of the human race untethered. Beneath and alongside the unleashed chaos and desire, there’s so much beauty and joy to behold.” Creed reached over and brushed a dark lock from her cheek. “Like you, Shay.” Her lips parted on a quick inhalation. “How could I ever regret the days and nights I’ve spent with you?”
Shayla flashed him a tight smile. “I’ll never forget these last few days either.” She swung her attention back to the road. “I wouldn’t change a thing.” Shayla pulled her hand free and went back to the steering wheel. “So you really think my grandfather will be able to help you disable the tracking thing in your chest?”
Creed shifted in his seat, faced forward, then scrubbed a palm over his face. “If anyone knows how this thing ticks, it’s Thomas. Whether he can or is willing to do so with what he has on hand in the twenty-first century is a question only he can answer.”
For the next couple of hours, Creed kept the conversation to the basics of how much longer, food and facility stops. The tension in Shayla’s body relayed that she had about as much as she could handle on her mind and still focus on getting them there in one piece. After they arrived at Thomas’, there would be plenty of time for the array of questions buzzing around in his mind after he convinced Thomas to deactivate the chip in his chest, and he survived the process.
The sun had drifted low in the horizon by the time they pulled up in front of the condominium building on the coast of South Carolina. According to Shayla, Thomas and his wife had decided to move to the beach when they retired a few years ago. He’d been a successful biomedical engineer with a large corporation. Imagine that? Since he’d also been the FOA scientist responsible for the production of the locator vibrating behind his sternum.
Creed studied the front of the building with its whitewashed plank walls. The dwelling wasn’t particularly high-end for someone who had led a successful life.
“My grandparents were never much for grandstanding.”
Shayla’s statement caught him off guard and he glanced over his shoulder.
“Odd that you would say that,” he said. “Since I was just thinking for a man who was such a brilliant scientist in my time, I would have thought his lifestyle here would reflect more status.”
“They both seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in the simple things. I can still see Grandma on her hands and knees in her flower garden, and Grandpa cutting the grass for years with a push mower when he really needed a rider.” She laughed. “But for hours those two would work in the sun with the biggest smiles on their faces. They didn’t seem to mind as long as they were together.” Shayla tilted her head, surveying the four-story building through Creed’s side of the car. “I’m sure they miss gardening, but both are moving a little slower now.”
Creed flexed his fist from the strange mix of emotions brewing in his gut. He was unaccustomed to owing anyone for anything. Hell, he’d been practically groomed for leadership his entire life. Always in control of his career. His destiny. But if it hadn’t been for Thomas’ impulsive act nearly a week ago… Yeah. Creed worked his throat. The whole concept left a bad taste in his mouth. But there was no way around it. He owed him one. He would have never stumbled onto the beginnings of the rich life it sounded like Thomas had found here if it hadn’t been for the meddling scientist.
The driver’s side door slammed, jarring Creed back into the present. He grabbed his backpack, exited the car, and followed Shayla toward the building where she bypassed the wooden stairs and punched the up button for the elevator.
Neither said a word on the ride to the third floor; it wasn’t necessary. The silence, heavy with all the “what-ifs” filled the space between them. Finally, a bell dinged, and the box came to a halt. As one, they looked up, capturing each other’s gaze in a nonverbal “let’s do this” before filing out.
The blue doors to the individual condos ticked off one by one on his right like a countdown on some mystical clock on his future until Shayla finally stopped at the sixth. The brass numbers read 412.
“This is it,” she said on an exhalation. Shayla reached up, closed her fist, but hovered over the door as if waiting for the courage to knock. Creed lowered his palm on her opposite arm and allowed it to follow the slope down to her elbow.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said. She looked over her shoulder and up from under her lashes, her eyes searching his. “I promise.”
Lips in a thin line, Shayla swung her gaze back to the door. God, he hoped like hell that was a promise he could keep. Dread settled like a bobbing iceberg in his gut, cold, growing, its crippling girth hidden beneath the surface, waiting to rip a gaping hole into both their lives.
Seconds later, Shayla rapped on the wood, and a small voice called out from the other side.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Shayla, Grandma.” The door popped open.
“Shayla!” A petite woman with straight white hair that stopped just above her shoulders appeared in the doorway. Dark-brown eyes, so much like Shay’s, lit with joy at the sight of her granddaughter. She gripped Shayla by the forearms and pulled her into a hug. “I wasn’t expecting you, but what a wonderful surprise.” Her gaze flicked up to Creed. “And who do we have here?” A smile curled her mouth.
Pulling out of her grasp, Shayla lifted her hand to Creed. “Grandma, this is—”
“Creed Donovan.” A male voice filled in the rest of the introduction and had all heads swiveling in the other man’s direction. “I’ve been expecting you.” He pivoted and started back toward where he’d come from. “Took you long enough.”
Shayla gave Creed a hesitant glance, then swung her head back in the direction of her grandmother’s surprised expression.
“Come in,” Mrs. Maulders added, finding her voice. She stepped back. “Please.”<
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Creed followed her lead into the small family room that contained a set of patio doors facing the inland waterway. Thomas stood staring through the glass, his back to the room. The height was the same, Creed surmised, but the years had added at least thirty pounds and removed a few hairs from the top of his head. The once-thick crop of straight blond hair had long been replaced by gray around the ears and a freckled scalp at his crown. Thomas had his hands shoved into a pair of khaki shorts that ended at his knees topped off by a pale-blue polo and a pair of white golf shoes on his feet.
“My apologies, Thomas, if we’ve interrupted your tee off,” Creed said, breaking the ice, but making no effort to hide the sarcasm. He tossed his backpack on a nearby chair.
Thomas pivoted about, one corner of his mouth twisted into an effort at a grin. “So how are you doing, my old friend?”
Creed choked out a laugh, then rushed the other man, closing the few feet between them. The sound of Shayla’s gasp, followed by his name, filled the room on a shout and registered somewhere in his brain, but he pushed it aside. This was between him and Thomas.
Inches from his face, Creed slammed on the brakes. Thomas didn’t flinch. Kudos for him. “I’m giving you five seconds more consideration than you gave me before I possibly blow the cover on the hidden years of your life,” Creed ground out between his teeth. “Does she know?” He narrowed his gaze on the scientist.
“No,” he replied under his breath. “My wife doesn’t know.”
“Then I suggest you get her out of here, so you and I can have a little chat.”
Thomas shuffled around him and Creed rotated, facing the ladies in the room. Their eyes were wide, the color in their cheeks a shade paler than a few moments earlier.
“Everything’s fine,” Thomas said on a chuckle, yanked his hands from his pockets, and clasped them together. His gaze swayed between the two women in the room. “Creed here…” Thomas indicated with a lift of his palm in the general direction where he stood. “He’s young and a hothead sometimes, but harmless. We just have some business to discuss.”
