Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  Chapter Three

  Anitra settled into her seat on the plane, Rumor safe and sleeping in the duffle bag beside her while Joe spoke with the crew. Joe had instructed her to place Rumor’s things in the crate and drop the cover over it, then transplant him into the duffle bag. She doubted it would work, certain the crew would not even allow him to speak with them on her behalf, but so far, so good. As Joe nodded to her and left the plane, she noticed some strange looks and wondered what he had said to them, but soon put it out of her mind. She could deal with strange looks. She belted down and cradled the duffle bag, happy her baby did not have to ride in cargo.

  Exhaustion from fear and lack of sleep set in, and she dozed, the recurring nightmare of her family’s murder taking shape soon as she closed her eyes, the last time she saw her family alive:

  Anitra’s father turned, facing them – Anitra, her mother, and her older brother. The look of guilt on his face tore at Anitra, and she hugged him. He had always been her favorite person in the world with his quick smile, warmth, and sage advice, but seeing him like this cut deep.

  “I am so sorry for putting all of you in danger. I—“

  She pulled back from him, searching his face. “Daddy, it’s not your fault. You did what you had to do.”

  “I should have allowed witness protection to completely relocate us, get us out of the city instead of just moving us cross town and changing our names, but leaving here felt too much like giving in. Now, it’s too late. None of you should have to look over your shoulder all the time.”

  Anitra turned to her mother and brother for support, shocked when they turned away, apparently negotiating their own feelings of loss. Rumor, less than a year old, whined in his crate as if he shared their pain.

  Consumed by recent events that had nothing to do with her family, she could not find the strength to deal with them. She had to get away, think, just get some space, so she grabbed Rumor’s crate and the keys to the BMW, running from the apartment the witness protection agency placed them in as if wolves nipped at her heels.

  Later, she returned to a crime scene. Yellow tape surrounded the area around their apartment, flashing lights both confusing and blinding, and she knew. Before even telling them who she was, that she lived there, too, the heavy weight of death descended, immobilizing her, and she stood still, even her tears paralyzed.

  She woke, wide-eyed at the sound of the flight attendant’s voice, and glanced around, relaxing again when she remembered she was safe. Relief and gratitude rushed through her when she thought about Ms. Lillian and Joe. Obviously, no ordinary man, the big brother reminder had been very kind to her. Any normal person would have been compelled to ask him more questions after noticing the fact that he’d taken a bullet, most likely more than one, yet there was no blood. Her first assumption was that perhaps he wore a Kevlar vest, but closer inspection proved there was nothing underneath his flannel shirt besides his skin. But again, Anitra was no ordinary person. Life had taught her to accept things as they were, no matter how strange or unexplained.

  “We are experiencing some turbulence. Please remain in your seats until further notice. Nothing to worry about.” The flight attendant finished her speel.

  Anitra glanced around at the other passengers, her thoughts turning from Joe to another, more painful memory. It had been two years, but she would never forget what ignoring her instincts had cost her the last time. Twenty-nine years old, never married because she’d spent over half of her life running, she had once allowed her unrealistic desire for a normal life to overcome her self-confidence and judgment. Her lapse resulted in the agony of catching her fiancé with the office slut, but even that had not been enough. She chided herself for ignoring all the signs while the entire office staff talked behind her back. The feeling of being completely alone, set apart from everyone else, bothered her most. As a means of self-protection, she had rarely bothered to date since.

  Laughter across the aisle caught her attention, and she turned to see four teenagers seated in the center. They appeared to be approximately 16 or 17, their nonchalant air a painful reminder of the events she’d faced at their age. The family the witness protection agency placed her with following the murder of her own was actually a couple who had completed training at Quantico. They had been protective and kind, but cold and unemotional, using every opportunity to teach her how to protect herself. While they had served their purpose, they were not the best companions for a teenager who’d just lost nearly everyone she loved. Not only had she lost all of her family except Rumor, she had lost the lifestyle to which she was accustomed – luxury cars, expensive vacations, designer clothes, and every useless trinket afforded a young woman with access to money.

  When a break-in occurred, evidence pointed to an undeniable connection between the intruders and the murderers of Anitra’s family. The agents posing as her family were unperturbed because they expected something to happen sooner rather than later, but Anitra couldn’t bear the thought of more lives being lost because of her. She ran away, using the knowledge they gave her to easily blend into the masses and disappear from everyone’s radar, including theirs.

  She closed her eyes again, shoving the disturbing memories away. A little turbulence did not frighten her. Had to be a reason she was still alive. She placed her hand on Rumor’s crate, praying things were going to get better, but she had always done her best to keep hope alive no matter what or whom she lost.

  “Excuse me.” A flight attendant leaned over her. “We were instructed not to disturb you and your baby,” the young woman whispered, “but I just want you to know that we’re all praying everything will work out for the best with the treatments. No child should have to grow up confined like this.”

  Anitra nodded. “Thank you.” Baby? Obviously, Joe had told the staff some tale about Rumor being a baby in need of special treatments. She smiled, nearly laughing out loud, then spent the rest of the trip gazing out of the window.

  Anitra arrived at the upscale bed and breakfast in St. Augustine, Florida, sans luggage, just Rumor, safe in his crate again. She could not help reminiscing about storybook castles when she stood in front of the rambling three-story mansion. One thing she loved about places like this was their tolerance for pets and other indulgences. She strutted in and stepped up to the front desk like she owned a million dollars, bracing the heels of her palms there after setting Rumor’s crate on the desk. Rumor had learned long ago when to be quiet and still. Obviously, he knew this was one of those times. If she hadn’t known the puppy was in the crate, she never would have suspected anything more than the usual overnight bag contents.

  She might not have the money anymore, but she would never forget how to act wealthy, not that the money had ever meant anything to her. She looked around, missing her family even more as guilt rode her for leaving them that day. Despite what the agents told her, she would always have questions, wonder whether she could have saved her family if she had stayed.

  She turned, leaning her side against the front desk as she waited for the clerk to serve the couple ahead of her. The posh layout was everything she could have expected and more, with its golden interior, well-appointed high-end furniture including mahogany desks and matching twin spiral staircases on opposite sides of the expansive foyer with gold-inlaid parquet floors, and blush-hued roses, the rare color bringing to mind Easter lilies like the ones she helped her mother plant. She felt like little girl lost without her family, and loneliness flooded her life, tempered to an extent by Rumor’s presence. Gentle reminders had a way of sneaking up on her, this time stealing any sense of joy elicited by the breathtaking scenery.

  When she took a moment to think about it, she could not believe someone as rich and powerful as Arardo still sought to kill her simply because he had said he would. Had the bastard not taken enough from her already? She had absolutely nothing to do with her father’s agreement with him. In fact, the first she had heard about it was when the federal government showed up to seize
all of her family’s assets.

  She tried to stop gawking at everything like a hillbilly, but it had been more than a few years since she had been given the opportunity to even walk into a place like this. Once her father testified against Arardo and the entire family went into protective custody, Anitra’s nice, cushy life had been turned upside down.

  Maybe running from place to place for so many years, accepting jobs wherever she could find them while barely owning the clothes on her back, had made her forget what it was like to be wealthy, after all. Now she barely made enough to pay rent, not that she could stay in one apartment long enough to say she actually had a residence anyway, and her last few days in the hotel had nearly wiped her out financially. If today had not been pay day, she would barely have ten dollars on her. She patted her purse, grateful for direct deposit and the online banking account she’d manage to get using one of her aliases. Of course, she’d had to pay dearly for the aliases, but it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice. Underground, everything was for sale, banks left trails, and trails could get her killed.

  The couple ahead of her asked question after question, apparently on their honeymoon. Impressed by the clerk’s patience, she turned again, looking up, the winding rod iron staircase highlighting the tasteful chandeliers covering the high ceiling. The perfect timing of her benefactor’s text messages coupled with the opulence of this place made her wonder briefly just how tight Ms. Lillian’s relationship had been with her father to gift her with an entire week’s stay at the Elysian Bed and Breakfast. Beautiful. Of course, she would probably never know the answer to that now, no matter how long she wasted time pondering. Her father was dead, and one of Ms. Lillian’s claims to fame was her reputation for giving confidentiality a whole new meaning.

  A second clerk arrived at the desk. “Welcome to Elysian Bed and Breakfast. How may I help you?”

  The man speaking with the honeymoon couple turned, addressing the second clerk, and Anitra glanced at his name tag – manager. “Sandra, I’ll take care of her.”

  Sandra nodded, the manager smiled at Anitra, and she smiled back. She reveled in the feeling of not being in a hurry for once. She could stand here and enjoy the well-appointed lobby for hours, but she did wonder briefly why the manager felt obliged to take care of her himself. Ms. Lillian probably had something to do with that, too.

  She watched while the manager began typing something into the computer.

  I’m being ridiculous. He hasn’t even asked me for my name yet.

  She reminded herself that Ms. Lillian communicated mainly through short text messages, and never shared her secrets or anyone else’s. As far as Anitra knew, no one had ever actually seen Ms. Lillian, and her accomplishments were rumored to be nothing short of miraculous. The powerful, well-respected diva’s dealings were with the wealthy and prestigious, and Anitra no longer had access to either of those, not that any of them actually saw the diva, either.

  Anitra stuck her hand inside Rumor’s crate and rubbed his head, reminiscing about her father and still wondering about the nature of his relationship with Ms. Lillian. Rumor stretched, yawning before he settled in for another nap. Even her father said no one ever actually dealt directly with Ms. Lillian. They knew she was a recluse, and possessed an uncanny ability to find a match for anyone who turned to her for help, managing to connect them with just the right person of their dreams – for a hefty price, of course. Always subjected to extensive background checks, many of Ms. Lillian’s clients eventually married each other, and as much as Anitra appreciated the genius businesswoman, she did not want to owe anyone for anything, nor was she looking to get married any time soon.

  She turned away and smiled at her own paranoia, remembering one of her father’s favorite annoying quotes: “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” She wondered if anyone living in this century besides her really understood what that meant.

  From the moment she arrived at the resort, she allowed her appreciative gaze to take in the entire building. Gold-colored stone accentuated with hunter green awnings and a matching covered walkway announced luxury in a loud voice, and the clear aqua waters of the beach behind the building beckoned anyone passing by to come inside and stay a while.

  “Good day. May I help you?” The manager addressed her again, his smile contagious.

  When the couple finally walked away, Anitra re-read the instructions Joe handed her when he dropped her at the airport, then cleared her throat before speaking, attempting her most business-like tone. “I believe there’s a room reserved in my name, L’Anitra Washington.”

  The manager, Dyson, glanced at the screen, his smile broadening when he looked at Anitra again, his warmth extending to Rumor as he glanced at the bag. “Yes, Ms. Washington. Ms. Lillian has given permission for you to charge whatever you need or want to your suite. Will you require treats for your puppy?”

  “N-no. Thank you.” Did Ms. Lillian tell him about Rumor, too? How does she know?

  “Your key.” He handed Anitra a small envelope with the keycard. “Suite 333.”

  She accepted it and walked to the elevator. She could not help wondering about the sudden glint in the manager’s eyes when he saw the suite number, but decided not to ask. The night had already been strange enough, and she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer. She gathered Rumor and his things and walked away without a word, the added bonus of Ms. Lillian allowing her to charge whatever she needed to the room rendering her speechless.

  Anitra smiled as she stepped onto the elevator. Ms. Lillian’s exclusive matchmaking business, “Heaven’s Touch,” was revered and respected by any and everyone with money and power – those who knew about it, that is. No matter how grateful she was, Anitra still hoped to God her benefactor was not trying to hook her up with some clown.

  She needed a man’s drama like she needed a bullet in her back a few hours ago. Plus, most men seemed intimidated by her…unless they were trying to kill her, that is. She was a big girl, and she had always been a fighter, but she had never been more frightened than she had been when she smelled the sulfur from that bullet aimed at her. Right now, she was just tired and... lonely. The voice in her head that never seemed to keep silent long enough spoke up. Matchmaking is what she does. Getting hooked up with a man is a hell of a lot better than running for your life.

  She blew an errant strand of hair out of her face. As long as there was no one in her room, suite, whatever, waiting to kill her, it was all good.

  Just before the door closed, Rumor whimpered and a huge hand slid inside, causing the doors to automatically stop. Heat rushed through Anitra’s body like a furnace. She glanced around to see if anyone else had been affected by the unseen force, but apparently, she was just having a young adult hot flash. At least that was what she thought until the elevator doors opened to reveal the source of titillating heat.

  She covered her heart with her right hand as she gazed into the smoky gray eyes of very possibly the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her twenty-nine years. Not a pretty man, but breathtakingly beautiful in his masculinity. Testosterone rolled off him in waves, yet Rumor did not say a word. Testosterone in any amount usually resulted in low-pitched growls and vicious, territorial barking from her four-legged best friend. Anitra glanced down at him to make sure he was still breathing. He was. Next, she looked behind her to find every pair of eyes on the elevator glued to the smokin’ hot new arrival. Of course, they all appeared to be more terrified than excited. As usual, she was the odd one out.

  Over six and a half feet tall, she had to look up at the gorgeous creature joining her on the elevator. At nearly six feet herself, looking up at a man was a welcome rarity. Storm clouds brewed in his eyes, so dark they seemed to swallow the light, and his skin, dark bronze with muscles so massive his black short-sleeve T and sweats could not begin to hide them.

  Her heart kicked up a few notches and she immediately understood the hot flash, stifling the overwhelming desire to fan herself. Her rational side whisp
ered, dangerous, but the other part of her, the part she had not seen nor heard from since her father and the rest of her family were killed, not even during her ill-fated piece of a relationship, purred, Yum. Okay, I know what I said about men and their drama, not to mention my own situation being a little out of sorts at the moment, but look at him. Really? Rumor doesn’t have a problem with him, so why should I? Am I really supposed to just…?

  She realized she was still staring at him when he hesitated, giving her an odd look as he stepped onto the elevator, then clucking at Rumor. A moment of embarrassment came and went when she reminded herself she had just survived a near death experience. Well, sort of, but whether she wanted to get technical or not, she deserved something for herself, and even though he definitely looked dangerous in a delicious kind of way, she felt connected to him somehow too, drawn by more than his sex appeal.

  Her instincts had never been wrong. In fact, it was her instincts that saved her life, the reason she was not murdered along with the rest of her family. She had sensed something wrong that day and called her family’s witness protection handler, refusing to return to the apartment. Riddled with guilt for months afterward, she wandered, nearly walking into one of the henchmen Arardo hired to kill her. She lived and her family was dead. She still wondered if she could have changed things by being there, saved them somehow, the possibilities torturing her. She figured she would always wonder. Right now, her instincts and Rumor were all she had.

  Chapter Four

  The dark-eyed god glanced at the control panel, probably to see if his floor number was selected, then stared at the floor. Anitra glanced at the buttons again. So, he was either on the second, fourth, or blessed be, the third floor with her.