The Travelers: Book One

by Tate, Sennah

  His hearing was more acute, too. Maybe it was just being in this spooky empty house with adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was probably easier to hear the dripping shower head and the soft hum of the refrigerator when there were no other sounds to distract him.

  Carson heard something else though, it took him a moment to fixate on it, but it was… It couldn’t be, but yes, it was — breathing. Someone else was in the house. He glanced around frantically for an improvised weapon, but didn’t find anything. His pulse sky-rocketed as he debated between offensive and defensive strategies. He could sneak out without detection, but he would also be leaving without any answers. If he stuck around, he might learn something, or he might end up with his ass kicked.

  He took a deep breath. For Izzy, that was just a chance he’d have to take.

  He turned on his heel, trying to remain as soundless as possible. Maybe the other person in the house didn’t know he was there. Maybe he still had the element of surprise on his side. He stalked through the house as if he were searching for his prey. The breathing he heard became more rapid, more pronounced, and then it stopped.

  Carson’s head cocked to the side, grasping for the smallest sound. And then there it was.

  Thumpthump. Thumpthump.

  A heartbeat.

  But he had to be insane if he thought he could actually hear another person’s heartbeat. That certainly wasn’t normal.

  Thumpthump. Thumpthumpthump.

  He took another step toward the sound, trying to pinpoint its origin.

  The breathing was back, now shallow and fast. Whoever the other person in Izzy’s house was, they were terrified. He may not have the element of surprise, Carson thought, but at least maybe he still had the upper hand?

  A quick shadow caught his gaze and — against all of his self-preservation instincts — he moved toward it, creeping slowly, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

  Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

  Carson’s heart matched pace with the stranger’s.

  He walked past the pantry door before realizing that the sound was coming from behind it.

  Taking a deep breath to steady his hand, he reached out, hand closing on the knob. Anxiety and anticipation made his forehead break out in a cold sweat. He braced himself for what he might find behind the door and pulled it open.

  The closet was darker than the kitchen, which was dimly light by street lamps, but his eyes adjusted more quickly than usual, allowing him to see the woman huddled in the back of the pantry.

  She was definitely not his sister. He didn’t recognize her, but it was dark; maybe in the light… His hand reached blindly for the switch in the unfamiliar house.

  His hand was batted away and before he had time to respond to the assault, Carson was being hit repeatedly over the head with a broom. He retreated as fast as his feet would carry him backwards in the cramped kitchen, his arms shielding his head and face from the never ending blows.

  “What. Did. You. Do. To Izzy?!” The woman shrieked, each word punctuated with a smack on the side of his head with her new weapon.

  Carson’s ear exploded in red hot pain and his super hearing was lost to a high-pitched ringing.

  “Jesus Christ! Knock it off!” He howled, the broom-wielding madwoman backing him into a wall.

  He had been so busy trying to protect himself that he never took the time to look at his assailant; in the brief glimpses of her he got in between dodging her wild swings, Carson realized that the girl had no idea what she was doing. She was acting out of blind fear and hysterics.

  “Calm down!” He yelled again, trying to deflect the broom.

  “Why? So you can make me disappear too?!”

  He’d had enough. He didn’t know what she was going on about, but he wasn’t going to try to talk to her about it while she kept attacking him.

  In one swift movement, Carson’s arm shot out, grabbed the broom handle mid-swing, and held it there firm.

  The look of dismay on the woman’s face made Carson’s lips twitch in a smirk.

  “Let go!” She grunted, trying — and failing — to wrestle the broom back into her grip.

  “So you can keep beating me like a dirty rug? No thank you,” he replied, amused that she was using all of her might to wrench her weapon free from him and he was using only minimal effort.

  Finally, she gave up, exhausted, realizing that Carson was leaps and bounds stronger than her. There was no point in trying to fight with him anymore. He could easily over-power her if he wanted to and she knew that she had to just let go.

  Tears welled up in her big brown eyes and something in Carson shattered; he wanted to make all of those tears go away and he didn’t even know who this woman was.

  “Who are you?” She asked sternly, frantically trying to swipe away the disobedient tears that fell from her eyes.

  Carson’s eyes bored into her as she tried once more to wrench the broom away from him. He finally pulled it free of her grasp and tossed it across the room. He held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

  “You win, okay?” He said, side-stepping her to turn the lights on.

  For a moment, they both blinked as stars burst before their dark-adjusted eyes.

  “I have no interest in hurting you,” he added, still keeping his hands in plain view. His right ear still felt like it was on fire and she’d managed to get a few decent scratches in with the old straw bristles. She might deserve a little retaliation, but he wasn’t even angry with her.

  “You still haven’t told me who you are and what you’ve done with Izzy!” She started to back away from him, her eyes darting from side-to-side like a cornered mouse; she was looking for an escape route.

  That wasn’t something that Carson was willing to let happen at that moment. This woman knew his sister and therefore might know something about where she was. He couldn’t let her out of his sight.

  “I haven’t done anything with her. I’m looking for her, just like you are.”

  “H-how… how did you know I was looking for her?” She stuttered, her confidence faltering.

  Carson crossed his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows, giving her an incredulous look.

  “Really? You’re snooping around at night hiding in pantries and I’m supposed to think you’re throwing her a one-woman surprise party? You’re not exactly a mystery, sweetheart.”

  She clenched her jaw, trying to bite back a sassy response, even as her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink.

  “Gemma,” she corrected.

  “Gemma? You’re a friend of Izzy’s?” Carson didn’t remember the name, but he also wasn’t completely up-to-date with his sister’s social life.

  “Yeah… and you are?” She asked for a third time.

  He held a hand out to her.

  “Carson; Izzy’s brother.”

  Chapter 4

  “I didn’t even know Izzy had a brother,” Gemma said with surprise.

  “Well, we don’t exactly get along,” Carson answered, looking a little guilty.

  Her eyes narrowed, looking him over carefully. In the light of the kitchen, Gemma couldn’t deny that he was a fine male specimen — tall, muscular and tan with sapphire eyes and a crop of short dark hair atop his head — but there were more important things to worry about than this stranger’s attractiveness. Like where Isabel was.

  “I see,” she replied, at a loss for more words.

  Her heart still pounded in her chest, her pulse faster than a jackrabbit’s. She didn’t know if this man was to be trusted. Izzy never mentioned a brother, but Gemma had to remind herself that they hadn’t talked much about family.

  Her eyes followed the line of his jaw, admiring his strong chin, dusted by the shadow of fresh growth. She searched his face for the family resemblance; it was possible, they had similarly shaped eyes, but beyond that, she couldn’t be sure.

  “What do you know about Isabel’s whereabouts?” Carson asked, his voice tense.

>   She crossed her arms, defending herself from his sharp gaze.

  “I don’t know anything. I was trying to figure out where she went. I haven’t seen her in days.”

  “If you don’t know where she is then you’re no help to me. Go home and forget all about this.”

  He tried to brush past Gemma, but she stood firm, planting her feet in place.

  “Excuse me,” she ground out through clenched teeth, “what exactly do you mean I’m no help to you? What do you know about where she is?”

  He stammered for a moment, refusing to make eye contact with her.

  “Well, I’m looking for clues,” he answered resolutely.

  Gemma hmphed at his answer, her eyes boring straight through him. She didn’t know what it was about him — she felt that they were somehow connected, something bigger than just their mutual connection to Izzy — but that wasn’t going to stop her from insisting on her way.

  “I’m just as capable of looking for clues as you are.”

  “Oh, are you? And what have you found so far, Nancy Drew?”

  It was Gemma’s turn to look sheepish as Carson stared straight through her.

  “Well, I didn’t know if she was really gone or just… avoiding me,” Gemma admitted, her eyes cast downward in shame.

  Carson’s expression softened, realizing that maybe he was a bit too hasty with his assessment of her.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but it could be dangerous. It’s best if you just leave it alone. I’ll find Izzy and make sure she’s all right.”

  Her sparkling bronze gaze flicked up to meet his with a challenge.

  “I’m not scared,” she replied, realizing she sounded more like a petulant child than a confident young woman.

  “Well, you should be. We have no idea what happened to her,” Carson muttered, continuing to look around the deserted kitchen.

  “It looks like she just…” he trailed off, eying the bread abandoned in the toaster that was beginning to grow fuzzy mold.

  “Disappeared,” Gemma finished his thought, the pit of dread in her stomach gnawing at her ravenously.

  “Do you think she’s…” Gemma couldn’t even voice the word, her lip quivered and fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She certainly didn’t want to be showing this kind of weakness in front of Carson, but she couldn’t help but worry that something grave had happened to her friend.

  “I don’t know what to think, to be honest with you,” Carson answered, rifling through Izzy’s mail now.

  “Something’s not quite right around here lately… it’s something…”

  “In the air,” Gemma finished for him, “I know. I haven’t been able to put my finger on it, but it’s like everything is just slightly off-center.”

  Carson’s eyebrows rose, crinkling his forehead as he thought about what she’d said. He didn’t know if he should be more relieved or worried that she shared his odd uneasiness. It was one thing for an admittedly paranoid ex-criminal to be suspicious, but Gemma seemed as normal as they came. If she’d noticed something wrong, then Carson had no doubt that his suspicions meant something.

  “Well,” Gemma finally interrupted their lingering moment of silence with her hands on her hips and an authoritative tone, “I have just as much right to look for Izzy as you do. We might as well help each other out; two heads are better than one, right?”

  Carson had to bite back a bark of laughter.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, I work alone. I didn’t ask for a stray to tag along at my heels.”

  He didn’t even have to look at her. Even with his back turned, he could feel her gaze burning a hole straight through him. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation to continue his perusal of his sister’s home, but he was afraid she might actually be able to make him spontaneously combust.

  The moment he turned around to chance a glance at her, his breath hitched in his throat. Something about seeing her angry brought out a primal beast within him — the flush in her cheeks, the steady rhythm of her rapid heart beat, the way the tiny muscles in her jaw twitched with the effort of keeping her teeth clenched — she was bewitching.

  “You’re just going to be in my way,” he added, trying to ignore the defiant cant of her hips and the sparkle of a challenge in her eyes.

  “For all you know, I could be a world class detective.”

  He didn’t hold back his laughter now; his eyes crinkled at the corners and his chest rumbled with amusement.

  Gemma ground her teeth, wondering what was so damned funny.

  “Sweetheart, I think a world class detective would have a better weapon than a broom.”

  She folded her arms in front of her, refusing to give in.

  “If you call me sweetheart one more time, I’m going to grab the mop!” She threatened with a taunting tone.

  She had to admit that she liked the sound of Carson’s laughter. As it filled her ears again, Gemma decided that she could definitely get used to that sound. It made her feel warm and safe to be wrapped up in his delight. Even if he was laughing at her expense.

  But he was laughing at her expense and no matter how compelling his laughter was, Gemma was not having any of it.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said with an air of finality. “Besides, you don’t have the first idea of where to look for Izzy; you need me.”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed; he certainly didn’t need her, but he didn’t know how he was going to be able to get rid of her either.

  “All right. Fine. You win, we’ll work together,” he conceded, already trying to think of a way to ditch her.

  “Good. Just make sure you stay out of my way,” Gemma answered triumphantly.

  She tried to reassure herself that everything was going to be okay. They would find Izzy, intact somewhere, having the time of her life. She probably just forgot to let anyone know she was going on vacation. That was plausible, right?

  She sighed. It was hard to keep positive when everything told her something was very wrong. Her eyes roved over Carson again, admiring the flex of the muscles in his back as he leaned over to examine something. Why didn’t Izzy mention that she had a sexy older brother? Under different circumstances, Gemma could be totally willing to break her dry spell with the big hunk of alpha male.

  But as the circumstances were, he’d proved himself to be callous, condescending, and just plain infuriating. He wanted to make assumptions about Gemma without knowing the first thing about her. Of course, every observation he’d made so far was correct, but that only made her angrier. It wasn’t right for a stranger to be able to pick up on those tiny personal details.

  “Well, where do you think we should start?”

  Carson turned to face her. Again, he felt some strange animalistic stirring deep within him. Like she somehow unlocked his inner caveman. He didn’t want her to put herself in harm’s way for this undoubtedly dangerous quest. He wanted to sling her over his shoulder, carry her back to his cave, and chain her up so she couldn’t get herself into trouble.

  He knew that keeping Gemma safe would never be that easy. But even more than that, Carson knew that if anything happened to her, his sister would kill him.

  “We’ll start by asking friends and neighbors if they noticed anything odd about her behavior lately. I have a friend that’s pretty good with computers, we’ll try to see if we can figure out the last places she used her credit cards or cell phone and go from there.”

  She nodded her agreement, wondering how Carson could be so calm about his missing sister. Izzy had only been her friend for a month and she was almost hysterical with worry. How was he able to keep it all together?

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  Chapter 5

  The night was waning and Gemma found it difficult to keep focusing on the things Carson said. He wanted to know everything about Izzy’s life — where she did her grocery shopping, what route she took home from work, what her habits were and if anyone seemed to show interest in her that she
didn’t appreciate — Gemma hated herself for it, but she really didn’t have any answers for Carson.

  He noticed her eyelids drooping and put on a fresh pot of coffee for them both. The sun would be up soon; people would be beginning their day. He was anxious to be able to talk with other people around town to see if they had any information. Gemma was trying her best, but there was only so much she knew.

  “Here,” he said, setting a fresh steaming mug down in front of her, “drink up.”

  She groaned, dropping her head to the table before pulling herself upright to take a long gulp.

  “All right, I think you’ve given me all you know about her day-to-day ritual,” Carson said.

  “Which is basically nothing,” Gemma groaned.

  “That’s okay,” he reassured her, rubbing his tired eyes as he sat back down opposite from her.

  It was strange to be sitting in Isabel’s kitchen, drinking her coffee, with her friend. It seemed natural even though it wasn’t anything close to usual for him.

  It was a little unsettling how easily he slipped into conversation with Gemma. Her mere presence was enough to soothe his raging conscience. His mind was typically a never-ending cycle of guilt, rage and fears of inadequacy, but while he sat there with Gemma, it all melted away.

  Under different circumstances, he could see them at a coffee shop, having a chat about normal every day things. But those weren’t the circumstances they found themselves in and he had a suspicion that Gemma would prove more of a hindrance than a help.

  “So, did you notice anything unusual? Was she talking to a new guy? Hanging out with anyone weird? Did she seem nervous or scared?”

  Gemma’s eyes welled up, exhaustion and frustration taking it’s toll.

  “I don’t know,” she sighed, “we haven’t been friends that long. I wouldn’t know what was out of place or different for her,” she paused for a moment, her eyes focusing on a fleck in the formica tabletop; “Wait… there was someone at the bar one night. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but Izzy definitely wasn’t happy about seeing him.”