“Oh, dear,” she heard the woman mutter. “I will be right back.”
Farrah felt her vanish, and just like that, her scream cut off. Five seconds of silence passed before Farrah realized her current predicament. “No,” Farrah begged. “Oh, God. Who is here? Please? Somebody answer me!”
Abandoned. Again. Nothing good came after being abandoned. Only things like separation. Slavery.
“No, no, no, no—” Stay alive. Tell no secrets. Find Mother. All these things were in jeopardy if—
“What did you do to her?”
Oliver. Oliver was here.
She threw herself his direction, plowing into his chest. Though she tried to stop herself, she all but climbed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and rising up on tiptoe to get as close as possible. “You are here. Someone is here. Thank you, thank you.”
“Hey.” His voice was a rumble against her breasts. “Hey, now.” He stood as still as a statue. “I have no idea why my being here helps, but I am here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The skin beneath her eyes felt wet. She was crying? She buried her face against his chest, trembling with all of her might.
“Seriously, what did you do to her?” Oliver asked, his voice aimed above her head.
“I did nothing,” Anahita replied.
“Lie,” Farrah mumbled into Oliver’s shirt.
She felt Oliver’s muscles tense. “Whatever you did, never do it again!”
Waves of gratitude poured through her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had interceded on her behalf.
What does he want in return?
The thought made her sober slightly. There was always a catch. Farrah drew in a gulp of air and tried to still her erratic heartbeat. She needed to move. Needed to quit touching this man who made her feel…things.
But just as she was going to move away, a great shudder wracked Oliver’s body. Then, with a groan that sounded like regret, his arms came about her. They swallowed her form entirely, wrapping around her back. He pulled in a breath, his chest swelling beneath her cheek, and then he buried his nose in her hair. Something began to stir against her belly.
Just like that, Farrah had the answer to what he wanted in return. He was no different than any other man.
She shoved him away with both hands. His warmth left her.
“What the hell—”
“Where am I, you terrible, deceitful man?”
There was an awkward silence. Finally, “You’re in the United States.”
Farrah felt her face slacken. “The—” What was he saying? “That is not possible.”
“It is true, little one. I brought you here. We did not lie about where we were taking you.” It was Anahita speaking again.
Farrah turned in the direction of her voice and fixed the most vicious glare she could in the woman’s general direction.
“Anahita,” Oliver said from behind her, “perhaps you could give us a minute.”
“Do you think she wants to be left alone with you right now?” Anahita asked.
“I do not know who you are,” Farrah told her, “or what you have done to me, but I want to be nowhere near you right now. Near any of you. Just take me back to where I was. Immediately.” As she demanded it, her heart ached at the thought of returning to the place she was first enslaved, even for as important a reason as her mother.
“We will be out in the hall,” Anahita said, completely ignoring her demand. “If you want me to return, simply call for me.”
There was that we again. Farrah swallowed hard. Curse her blindness. If she could only see, she would know who she was dealing with. Where she was. Two years of darkness, and she still mourned the loss of her sight. She had adapted to much, but would she ever grow used to it?
Several sets of footsteps shuffled, and the sound of a door closing resounded through the space. Just how many people had captured her?
She turned back to where Oliver must be and waited. And waited.
“What is your name?” he asked after several moments.
Tell no secrets. This request qualified. “How did Anahita get me from Afghanistan to the United States in the blink of an eye?”
Oliver sighed. “It’s…complicated. And, actually, classified.”
Against her will, Farrah found herself intrigued. “So is my name.” She’d let him puzzle out whether she meant her name was complicated or classified. In truth, it was both. At least in Farrah’s world, and especially in Kabul. One mention of her name to the right person, and Farrah’s life, perhaps even her mother’s life, was over.
So many enemies. And any would pay dearly for one mention of her name. For any hint as to how to reclaim their property.
“Then, what am I to call you?”
“You will call me nothing!” Farrah shouted. “You are to take me back now!”
“Woman, come on. Cop to the fact that you’re not going back.”
Not going back. Black shards of fear splintered in Farrah’s heart. Her mother. She was so close to finding her. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She’d escaped slavery only to be trapped in it once again. “Then you will call me enemy,” she muttered past clenched teeth.
“I already do.”
Wonderful. The man she now depended upon for, apparently, everything, hated her. “I will never forgive you for this. Never, do you understand me? If you were looking for a biddable, submissive woman, you have chosen the wrong one. I will make you as miserable as I can.” A solemn vow.
There was a heavy moment of silence before he spoke. “Well, I’ll never forgive you, either.” He heaved a breath. “Make me miserable?” he muttered. “You already have, you incredible pain in my ass!”
“Okay, corners, kids,” an entirely new voice said.
“Max, you get her the hell away from me. And I mean now.”
“Why am I even here if you do not want me to be?” Farrah shouted. “You are all mad!”
“Max…,” Oliver said in a warning tone.
Fingers wrapped around her upper arm. Farrah shouted, “Don’t touch me!” at the same time Oliver yelled, “Get your hand off of her.”
There was an exasperated sigh. “You guys need to figure out what you want. For real. Do you want to stay here with the world’s biggest case of blue balls, or do you want to leave?”
It took her a moment to figure out the question was directed at her. She heard Oliver mutter, “Nice,” beneath his breath. Farrah didn’t know what blue balls were, but she knew one thing. “Leave. I will choose leave.”
“Where is she staying?” this Max asked, his question aimed above her head.
Infuriating. Discussing her as though she weren’t standing right there. “How about the city you kidnapped me from?”
“Just…put her in the living quarters.” Oliver sounded suddenly very, very tired.
“Yours, or…?” Max let his question trail off.
A groan. “Fine. Yes. Mine.”
Exactly as I thought. No matter. She had escaped before. Many times in her life. She would escape now. And the sooner she was alone, the better her opportunities, which meant she needed to go with this Max, but she’d do it her way. No more grabbing. “Max—” She turned his direction. “If you will offer me your arm and let me follow your direction, there will be no need to grab my arm and jerk me around.”
A sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” Max said. Sincerely. Which Farrah shrugged off. “My arm is just in front of you to your left.”
Farrah had no trouble finding it. She gripped Max loosely just at his elbow, touching him as little as possible. She heard a strangled sound emerge from Oliver’s location, and frowned when Max said, “Relax. Get yourself under control, and I’ll be back soon.”
They began to move. Max led her through a doorway, and, by the close echoing of their footsteps, what had to be a hallway. They then emerged into a huge room. Sounds bounced everywhere. Breezes that were too large for any size space that Farrah could imagine brushed again
st her cheeks. They wound their way past several obstacles Farrah couldn’t see, but she reached out a hand surreptitiously at one point and discovered a cool, wooden surface. A desk, perhaps?
She silently counted every footstep and memorized every turn as they made their way to Oliver’s quarters. As soon as Max left her, she would leave them. Leave them all.
5
“I know it’s been a while for you.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “But I didn’t think we’d have to tell you that calling your girl a pain in the ass is not recommended.”
“Not right now, Luke.” Oliver rubbed the ache between his eyes with two fingers. “Please.”
Oliver could feel Luke’s stare. After a few moments, Luke walked to one of the cabinets lining the massive receiving room in the medical bay. A cabinet door screeched on its hinges. A short while later, Luke nudged Oliver and handed him four pills. “The headaches have started?”
Oliver tossed back the four pain killers and swallowed them dry instead of answering. He rolled his head around on his shoulders, trying to relieve the strain in his neck muscles. It was going to be a long day. He had more headaches with the bonus of skin irritation to look forward to. And that would be a picnic compared to what would come later this week.
“I thought…,” Oliver began, “…when I found her, it’d be different, I guess.”
“How?”
Oliver shrugged and cursed beneath his breath. “Hell, I don’t know.” He met Luke’s gaze. “I just want my life back, man.” Oliver swallowed. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“I understand,” Luke said. “Really, I do. But, Oliver, you’re not going to get your life back unless you get her to sleep with you. You shouldn’t get her to sleep with you unless you’re committed to her.” Oliver rolled his eyes, but Luke just kept talking, “And sex isn’t even in the cards if you’re going to call her names and kidnap her from her homeland.”
“Ladies are so picky these days.”
“I’m serious.”
Oliver could feel a muscle tick in his jaw. “You don’t think I’m serious about this, too?” He took a deep breath. “Besides, the kidnapping wasn’t my idea. Talk to the angel.”
Luke frowned. “Yeah, she may have sabotaged you there.”
“You think?”
“I did not realize it would upset her so.” Oliver and Luke turned at the sound of Anahita’s voice. She’d joined them once again.
“How could you not realize that?” Oliver asked. “Kidnapping is the world’s worst romance plan.”
A blush tinged Anahita’s cheeks. Oliver didn’t think he’d ever seen the angel blush. “I do not know about romance. And I most certainly do not know about being so attached to a place that I would not leave it for a better option.” Anahita tilted her head. “She is here. Is that not what you need?”
“Well, it would be helpful if she didn’t hate me.”
“I suppose that is accurate.” Anahita looked as though the concept had just dawned on her.
Freaking angels.
“We could have moved more slowly had issues not become pressing here at home,” Anahita said.
“What issues?” Luke asked.
“We are going to war.”
Luke and Oliver looked at one another. War was nothing new to them. Nothing pressing. It was due to war that Oliver and the others had even stumbled upon the Garden of Eden. They’d been engaged in war of some kind ever since that fateful day nearly a decade ago.
“Well,” Oliver started, “we are a military operation. Isn’t that kind of our thing?”
“Ah.” Anahita nodded. “I see the confusion. We are going to war with the rebelling angels. Oh, yes, and most probably Hell.”
“God damn it,” Oliver muttered. Freaking angels.
“Are you serious?” Luke asked, his voice nearly cracking at the end.
“Yes, very,” Anahita said. “I only have four Warriors at my disposal thus far. They have been in contact with many of the rebels to inform them of Remiel’s treachery, and it looks as though several are considering joining our ranks; however, Remiel has yet to make his play. We suspect he will form an army with whatever rebels he can and attack us.”
Oliver sighed. “Well, that sucks.” Remiel, the angel who had thrown heaven into rebellion when he tried and failed to manipulate first Jayden and then Anahita into killing those who had eaten from the Tree of Life, was proving to be a major nuisance.
“And Hell?” Luke asked in a choked voice.
“The demons simply like chaos,” Anahita said as though that explained everything. Anahita trained her blue-eyed gaze on Oliver. “We need the help of you all. We need you to fight with us. We knew you needed your woman before that could happen….”
So I kidnapped her, Oliver finished for her in his mind.
If he could go back in time and unsee the Garden of Eden, God, how he’d jump at that chance. Immortality weighed poorly against the initial betrayal of Major Taylor selling him and his friends to enemies in Afghanistan, and now a group of rebel angels who viewed the immortal humans as the worst kind of blasphemers. Not to mention the repeated death—Oliver’s own, special curse to bear.
A sharp stab of pain shot through Oliver’s temple, and he clenched his teeth. “I…can’t do this right now. I’m going to go…lie down or something.” He almost made it to the door before she spoke again.
“Oliver…with the woman…please hurry.”
He just barely resisted slamming the door shut behind him. He did hear Luke’s voice filter through the walls, “Anahita, he’s more than motivated. Cut him a break.”
“Thanks, pal,” he muttered, his piss-poor mood made worse.
Now he could add pressure from heaven to the growing list of things he had to worry about. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to assure himself that at least now that he had his mate with him, things couldn’t get any worse.
A shapely shadow fell across his path.
Oliver tripped over his feet and plowed into someone warm and soft. On instinct, he reached out and grabbed whoever it was by the arms in an effort to steady them both.
He smelled Jolly Ranchers. Or maybe lollipops. The arms beneath his fingers were slight, and he automatically adjusted his grip so it wouldn’t be painful. His gaze snapped to a face. A very exquisite face framed in pinup girl curls and accented with bright red lipstick. “Hey, there, handsome,” she said with a red-lipped smile.
“Oh…my God,” Oliver said in a low voice.
Before him was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was a gorgeous mix of the 1940s and punk rock. Her blue dress with white polka dots hugged a frame that should make him weep. The arms beneath his fingers were covered in vivid tattoo sleeves.
She was breathtaking.
And yet, she gave Oliver a sick feeling in his gut. He jerked his hands away from her skin. He suddenly wanted his own mate—his woman—very, very much.
“Where are the others?” she asked in one damn sexy, bedroom voice.
Oliver frowned. She talked like she knew him. Like she knew the Operation. He didn’t recognize her.
She smiled. “If we’re alone, do you wanna play?” She winked.
Her question dripped innuendo. Something was very wrong here. Oliver slipped into reconnaissance mode. “Beautiful, I think you’re definitely more than I can handle.” He smiled with one corner of his lips like he used to when he hit bars to pick up women.
She pouted, her red lips pursing in a way that could give a man ideas. “Just as well.” She leaned forward, offering him a front row view of what held her dress up—an offer he denied. “I can’t afford another obsessed lover. You have obsession written all over you, baby.”
Oliver shivered, and not in a good way. “How do we know each other?” he asked, still smiling. “I can’t believe I’d forget such a…face.”
The pout turned to a smirk. “We don’t know each other.” She held up a hand and inspected her red nail pol
ish.
“Okaaaay.”.
“But we could know each other.” She flashed him those stunning blue eyes again. “Very, very well.”
This time, there was no innuendo. Oliver’s senses tingled. “I’m listening.”
“Rumor around town is you’re joining an angel war.”
Shit just got interesting. “That’s a rumor, huh?”
“Aw, cute.” She wrinkled her nose. “The human is playing hard to get.”
Oliver forced himself to relax. His shoulders dropped a little. “The ones who are worth it always do, am I right?”
She pursed those lips again. “Indeed.” Her eyes roved his body, and Oliver had the overwhelming desire to take a shower beneath scalding hot water.
“Okay, gorgeous,” Oliver snapped before he could control himself. Play nice. “What do you have to do with an angel war?”
She tipped her head back, and her delicate throat bobbed with a full laugh. A laugh that went on much longer than normal. When she finally sobered, she looked at him once again, pausing to wipe tears from beneath her eyes. “Me and angels. Oh, that’s rich.” She chuckled again. “Cute and funny. I could just eat you up.”
Oliver took an involuntary step backwards. The mystery woman definitely noticed. Her eyes narrowed and then just as quickly relaxed. “I’ve come to make you—and the others—an offer.”
“Others?”
“Why, the other immortal humans, of course, silly.” She smiled brilliantly.
Oh, fuck. “I…immortal humans?” Oliver laughed, but even he could tell how forced it sounded. “Too much Twilight, doll.”
Her brilliant smile took on a predatory edge. “So, I could, say, stab you right now, and you’d die? You know, for realsies? Not the death on repeat you currently favor.”
Oliver swallowed. He didn’t know what to say, so he chose silence.
“Aw, do I have the wittle human’s undivided attention now?”
Oliver gave her a curt nod.
All pretense vanished from her face. In the place of her insipid Stepford wife expression was now a fighter, and Oliver was not too much of a man to admit she scared the shit out of him. “Listen carefully so you know exactly what to repeat to your friends.” She carried on without a pause for his acknowledgement of an order. “We would prefer you to fight with us in the coming apocalypse.”
Of Blind Fate (Operation: Middle of the Garden Book 5) Page 4
