“What are we going to do about it?” somebody asked.
“We’re going to do an old-fashioned sweep. As you know, Artest’s charge has had an encounter, and by now they probably know she’s still connected with us.”
“Connected indeed,” Jahia teased.
Everybody laughed.
Artest didn’t embarrass easily, but he felt his ears burning over that one.
“We should make it our first priority to find those two so Artest’s charge can get back to her life,” Tyler said. Then he looked at him. “Assuming that is what she wants to do.”
He refused to smile. I’ll get you for that one, he told Tyler mentally. Tyler didn’t even try to hide his smirk.
The meeting broke up soon after that. Three different Hunters delivered the message that Dacia said she’d be back on the weekend and they would get together then. Artest spent the bulk of the next hour visiting with his friends as they exited Tyler’s home.
It embarrassed him that he hadn’t thought about his niece again since discovering that she had returned to the Bay Area.
How can that be, he questioned himself? Nothing is more important to a Dogon than his family, and he’d been too many years without a true blood connection. He loved his friends, but there’d been low times across the centuries when the simple act of watching loving parents interact with their children had caused a knot in his throat.
Have I been bewitched?
He decided to seek out Jahia before returning upstairs. He found her sitting at her kitchen table with her laptop open.
“I thought I would find you here.”
“Goodbyes have always been difficult for me, especially so now.”
“Why now?”
“Were you not listening? There’s going to be a sweep. It’s possible that I’ve seen some of our friends for the last time.”
He sat and took her left hand. “We’ve had a good teacher, the best—we’ll be fine.”
“I want you to go out with Tyler if at all possible. Promise me you’ll watch his back.”
“You have my word on that in times of war and peace. But why all the concern, Jahia? The Sangsue have never been formidable foes. They’re trained to strike and retreat.”
The look in the eyes of the woman sitting across from him broke his heart. Fear. The most fearless person he’d ever known was afraid.
“What am I missing, Jahia? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“No, it’s nothing concrete. Just a feeling.”
“You taught me to trust my instincts. What are your instincts telling you?”
“That my husband should never go out again.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that. “Jahia, there are enough of us that Tyler shouldn’t have to go out.”
“Try telling him that! Anyway, let’s change the subject to something more pleasant. Why are you down here when you have a human crazy about you upstairs?”
Artest smiled before he caught himself. “It’s unlike you to encourage a relationship with a human. I know why I like her; what did she do to impress you?”
“I think she’s capable of loving my brother, and he thinks he’s an old fuddy duddy who doesn’t need love anymore—but I know he’s not, and that’s good enough for me.”
“I came in here to ask you if I’ve been bewitched.”
She stirred her tea, and then she took a long sip. “Maybe you have been bewitched, but I don’t think she’s using magic. Not a magic that any woman with the right guy doesn’t have. ”
Artest laughed. “Come on, Jahia, this is not the time for your double-talk. You saw me with every woman I’ve ever cared even a little about; have you ever seen me like this before?”
“Maybe with Halla.”
“I forgot about Dacia being here.”
Her left eyebrow shot up. “Did you really?”
“I did.”
“Artest, go upstairs—your life awaits.”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready for all of that.”
She laughed. “But it’s ready for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jordan didn’t expect to be able to concentrate on her email or anything else. Things were happening fast. No, not just things—weird things were happening fast.
For as long as she’d been back in Sacramento, the high point of her life had been a movie on Saturday night with one of her girlfriends. On a good night, her friend might be dateless too and available for dinner after the movie.
Then she’d accepted a night out with Leeana.
There were twenty new messages, which wasn’t usual. Her students were very computer savvy. She supposed most of them preferred to communicate via email. The bulk of the messages were the students returning the evaluation forms she had emailed to them after the last class. Jordan didn’t take the time to read any of them. She was expecting the evaluations to be good. Her classes were relatively easy core requirements for underclassmen. She had one advanced history class for history majors, but she hadn’t sent them evaluation forms yet.
There was one email that puzzled her. It was from the head of her department. He said that there was a problem with her final grades for two of her classes and she needed to meet him in his office Monday morning at eight. Jordan found that puzzling because she’d done the exact same thing with all her grades, and if two classes were wrong, they all should have been. But even more puzzling was the fact that she’d thought Dr. Grant was in Spain. It was her understanding that he and his family were scheduled to travel two days before her last class. He was supposed to be teaching a class there during the break.
There was a funny email from Leeana. She sent her a list, “ten ways to spot a hussy.” They were in descending order, and number one was, “she leaves the club with some guy named Artest.”
Before her signature, she wrote, “I want details!”
Jordan was laughing when Artest entered the room.
He had some papers in his hand that he put on the nightstand. He stood by the side of the bed, looking at her and doing some strange stepping in place that she couldn’t interpret. She was just about to ask him what was he was doing when she realized that he was kicking off his shoes.
“I don’t like this,” he said.
“What?” His expression was frightening, and she responded as such.
“You having fun without me.”
Before she had a chance to react, he was across the room and kissing her lightly on the lips.
“You’ve got to stop teasing me like that!”
He moved the laptop from the bed to the floor. Then he threw himself on top of her. “How would you like me to tease you? I’m your servant.”
“Mmm, you smell so good. What is that scent called?” she asked as she ran her hands through his soft, silky hair.
“Hot, horny, Dogon-Hunter Number 5.”
“Does that mean I should be able to find four hotter, hornier Dogon-Hunters who smell better than you?”
He stopped nuzzling her neck and pulled her back to face him. They were both laying on their sides, fully dressed. “Please, don’t even kid about that. I can’t stand to think about anybody else touching you.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am, but I got in honestly. Dogon-Hunters are incredibly territorial. We love each other fiercely, but we keep our distance from each other. When we mate, we mate for life. Sooner or later our mates become friends with our friends and we become jealous. I’ve seen it happen over and over again.”
She found that interesting. Her university minor was sociology; she found all studies of human behavior extremely compelling. “Artest, there’s no way you’ll ever convince me that you’ve become emotionally territorial with all the women you must have had in your past. You would be an emotional basketcase.”
He pulled her closer, and she allowed her head to rest on his chest. “It’s not that many, Jordan. You’d be surprised how much time I’ve spent alone.”
“Why?
”
“I don’t know how to answer that. Sometimes it’s just easier to be alone. My work makes it difficult for me to lead the normal human life. The one time I met another Hunter and fell in love, she was killed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I was too. I went over fifty years after that before I allowed myself to care enough to date again.”
“Wow. I still find it hard to imagine all that you must have seen and done. I must appear very young and ignorant to you.”
He kissed her again, this time longer, landing on her lips as he drew out her tongue. He gently petted her tongue with his. It was a young person’s kiss, the kiss of someone newly exploring the possibilities. She wondered if he was trying to show her that he could be fresh and new with her.
“I find you fascinating. There is no other word for what I feel when I’m with you.”
“Why, Artest?”
He smiled that beautiful smile that made her again wonder what he could possibly see in her.
“How can you ask me that? You’re fetching, smart, and you make me laugh. What part of you don’t you get? I feel alive again, and that’s not something I’ve felt for a while.”
He kissed her neck before she could answer. “And you’ve awakened sexual feelings that I haven’t felt since I was a teenager. That alone has been time well spent.” His kisses trailed down her neck and settled on her collarbone. “Weren’t we interrupted before I left?”
“Yes, I was telling you I can’t, I will not, spend my day in bed. In fact, I got an email that tells me I need to check something on campus.” She broke away from him and sat up.
“What? I thought you were on a break?”
She told him about the email from her supervisor.
The concern on his face surprised her. “He never said anything about the trip being cancelled?”
“No, the last thing he said to me about it was how excited his wife was. Their baby is seven months old. They’ve hired a woman to live with them in Madrid and, if she works out, they’re going to take a few overnight trips as a kind of delayed honeymoon.”
“Hmm.”
“Why are you asking me all of this?”
“Your safety is important to me. Promise me you won’t go anywhere near that appointment until you can confirm he really is in town.”
“Okay, but I think you’re worrying unnecessarily.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
They decided to get out of the house for a while. That time of year was beautiful in Sacramento—she told him she liked it because it wasn’t too hot yet. Personally, he preferred the hot summers, but then he grew up in sub-Saharan Africa.
While she was in the bathroom doing whatever it is women have to do in there when men announce that it’s time to go, he communicated with Tyler. He told him about her email and asked him to contact their person at Sacramento State University. He didn’t know who that person was or even for sure that there was such a person, but Tyler said he would—thus confirming that they had people where they needed them.
When they got downstairs, Tyler pulled Artest aside and told him that Dr. Grant and his family were indeed in Spain. Grant was asked if he sent Jordan an email, and he answered in the negative.
Tyler thought he should not tell Jordan anything until they had more to tell. He even suggested that they let Jordan go to the appointment on Monday so they could see who they were dealing with. Artest told Tyler absolutely not.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Tyler said with a pat on Artest’s back.
Artest knew what that meant. Tyler was going to tell Jahia to talk to him. He knew they were all are a little afraid and a lot in love with his wife. Tyler used it to his advantage when the love part was not eating him up inside.
“Okay,” Artest told him. “But I’m not going to change my mind. I won’t put Jordan in danger.”
Tyler just smiled and said, “May you have wings on your feet while the hands of Amma hold tightly.” It was the kind of thing Jahia would say, and Artest didn’t know if Tyler meant it as a joke or not. Sometimes both husband and wife had senses of humor that could meander on the edge of bizarre.
“What was that all about?” Jordan asked once they were headed toward the K Street mall in the car Artest borrowed.
“Nothing important,” he told her.
“Oh, I thought I heard Tyler say my name.”
“He wants me to bring you back to his house. We all think it’s best that you stay there until we get the two Suckers who came to your apartment.”
“I guess that would be all right for a few days, but I’ll have to go home and pack a bag.”
“I’m taking you shopping now so you won’t have to go back.”
“Artest, that’s not necessary. I have everything I need at home.”
“They know they can get to us by hurting humans. That’s the one thing they do very well. If there’s something special that you need from your apartment, let me send somebody for it.”
He could tell the idea of shopping for a few days’ necessities still didn’t appeal to her. Then he realized that she was thinking about the amount of money she had on her and available on her credit cards.
Money, or more accurately the lack of money, was never one of his considerations. He could have kicked himself for leaving out the most vital part of his shopping announcement. At the next stoplight he took two cards from his wallet, both platinum. He slipped them in his shirt pocket while he thought about how he needed to present them.
By the next light, he thought he had an approach. “Jordan, we want you to charge anything you need to us. We recognize you wouldn’t be in this mess except by association with our organization.” He handed her the two cards.
“Nice try, Artest. These cards both say Artest Dramé, not Dogon-Hunters International or whatever you all call yourselves. I can’t let you buy me clothes.”
He’d been afraid she would say that—that was why he’d presented the cards as if the group was paying for her inconvenience. Money and other favors were always difficult with new lovers if they were the type of women he found appealing.
“Okay, so we don’t have to get into a big argument and you don’t have to look around for something to throw at me, I’m going to say this. Take the cards, drag me around from store to store until you have what you need and want for the next few days, or I’ll have to call one of my female assistants and ask her to shop for you. But either way, I’m not going to allow you to absorb the cost for this. It’s your choice.”
“Wow, that didn’t sound like the polite guy I woke up with.”
He “listened” to her thoughts and learned that she wasn’t teasing him—he had offended her by what she was mentally calling “strong-arm tactics.”
He pulled the car into an elementary school parking lot. “Jordan, I’m sorry if that sounded mean-spirited. It’s just that I know a quality woman like yourself would never accept a couple of thousand dollars worth of clothes from me so soon, maybe never, in our relationship. I was trying to present the idea to you in a way that I thought would make it work. I wasn’t trying to bully you. Please forgive me if that’s how it sounded.”
A boy and girl appeared on the school’s basketball court. They both looked to be in their early teens. Both were thin and tallish for their young faces, all arms and legs.” They appeared toned, and both athletic. Each of them was wearing serious sneakers.
The boy was bouncing a basketball between what Artest imagined was serious puppy love flirting. Artest and Jordan expected to see him shooting bold baskets while she watched; they couldn’t have been more wrong. The kids began a very vigorous, well-matched game of one-on-one. They both seemed to be taking the game quite seriously.
Before too long, Jordan and Artest had stopped talking and were totally engrossed in the game. Artest had been a big fan of American sports. Over time, he’d become so jaded that music and books were the only pleasures tha
t he considered pure enough to enjoy—most nights they were his only comforts.
“Will-you-look-at-this-girl?” she screamed as she slapped Artest hard on his thigh.
Jordan had no way of knowing that her outburst triggered Artest’s attack response. He smiled. You’ll keep me on my toes.
The girl had jumped up and popped the ball out of its path to the basket, recovered it on the bounce and dribbled it to her basket. She then shot and made the basket.
Scented Lust Page 13
