by Nash, Layla
I rocked a little faster, the memory of Nona biting Ronan filling in my soul a little. She’d almost finished him off for us. Too bad Heathrow interrupted. Maybe the more I focused on the good memories, the less her death would hurt. It seemed too easy, but I knew it would take a lot of work and probably a lot of time before I felt less hollow. But that didn’t mean I knew what to do next.
“Here.” Luke held out a brown paper bag, not looking at me as I glanced over and took it. “I would have brought it by a few days ago, but you weren’t awake. So it might be a bit stale.”
I peeked into the bag and sucked in a breath: fry bread. A whole mess of fry bread. Even if it was stale, even if it hardened—I’d eat every bite. “She made it?”
“Yeah. It took a couple years off my life not to finish it myself.” He leaned over and tapped the side of the bag. “And she wrote the recipe down for you. She didn’t give that recipe to anyone, Sass. So you’ll have to keep making it, and I’ll come over and let you know if you’re close.”
I smiled through a fresh round of tears, and fished out a piece of fry bread to gnaw on. “As soon as I can stand up for longer than ten minutes at a time, I’m going to make fry bread for days.”
Luke smiled. “Good. Let me know when you’ve had some practice.”
We sat in silence for a long time, as my rocking chair squeaked and the birds sang and the world moved slowly around us. Someone else stirred in the house but no one bothered us on the porch. I cried and ate fry bread, and Luke was kind enough not to comment. I’d gotten halfway through the bag before I dared to glance over at him, wiping tears off my cheeks with my greasy hands. “What happens if you don’t hook up with a Luckett?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, Sass. You’re almost irresistible right now—up to your elbows in fry bread with a runny nose and pajamas. Dead sexy, you are.”
“Then my plan to seduce you has failed,” I said, scowling at him. “I’ll go live under the porch.”
Luke slugged my shoulder gently, winking. “Just trying to restrain myself, is all. And we don’t even know whether the Luckett genes are necessary. Coyote created our family well before the Lucketts ever came here, but we know that there are more coyotes born in the generations after a coyote and a Luckett had kids.”
“Well, you can take your chances with Lucia.”
He laughed, his chair thumping against the porch as he leaned forward. “I think we can wait another generation.”
I smiled a bit, turning my attention back to the fry bread. “That’s what I thought.”
Luke fished a piece out of the bag and I let him, even though I wanted to whack his hand for daring touch my fry bread. We sat for a while, until the bread was gone and I folded up the bag so I could copy down the recipe, and breathed and occasionally I cried as an old memory bubbled up. Luke held my hand but didn’t say anything, and I wondered if he was right—if Nona really knew she would die at the Crossroads and chose to go anyway when she heard me asking for help.
I was psyching myself up to go into the house for coffee and no doubt a firestorm of questions from my sisters and Hazel and even the brothers when a dusty SUV rattled up to the drive and crept slowly closer to the house. I held my breath. I didn’t think I could take any more surprises, at least until I’d gotten more caffeine.
My chest tightened when I saw Lincoln behind the wheel of the SUV and it rolled closer to the porch. He hadn’t called or texted or sent any messages through Hazel since the night at the Crossroads, so I wasn’t entirely sure where we stood. Especially since his supervisor was in town and didn’t have a very high opinion of my family.
Luke eased to his feet, patting my shoulder when I started to get up as well. “You stay, Sass. Get better fast. I’ve got some of my people patrolling around the Crossroads to make sure no one disturbs the cave, but you and your sisters need to go out there and redo the protections sooner rather than later. Something had been disturbed, after your aunt went up there last year, but it feels… normal again. Whatever it was you did, it helped. But try to go back to conceal more before those feds start uncovering more of our secrets.”
“We will.” I rewrapped the blanket around myself and got up, shuffling to the railing as I watched him walk out into the yard. He briefly shook Lincoln’s hand, then they spoke for a few long moments. Lincoln nodded a lot and looked regretful, and Luke’s shoulders straightened. I heard him thanking Lincoln but couldn’t decipher why, so my thoughts whirled on other topics as Luke disappeared into the air and Lincoln continued up the drive and to the porch.
He looked ten years older and completely exhausted, but he managed to smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said. I tilted my head at the door. “I think Hazel is awake, if you’re—”
“I’m here to see you,” he said. “But good to know about Hazel. That way we can assume she’s eavesdropping.”
Someone muttered from the front door, “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Go get coffee, Hazel,” Lincoln said, his gaze never leaving my face, and the corners of his mouth turned up more.
She grumbled and stomped off, and I limped back to my rocking chair as I debated what to say and how friendly to be and whether I could ask about his investigation and his boss and his team.
Chapter 66
I wiped my hands on my pajamas and wished I’d put a bra on when I woke up, so I pulled the blanket tighter as Hazel arrived to fill my mug with coffee and offer Lincoln one, along with a dirty look. Then Hazel disappeared inside, talking with someone else, and it became clear from the giggles that it had to be Nelson and Mason. Lincoln sighed as he eased into the chair Luke had vacated, inhaling from the coffee and studying the yard as the silence stretched.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I still felt raw and hollow from talking to Luke about Nona, and even with the fry bread, I still felt empty. There wasn’t anything left inside me to get agitated over, regardless of what Lincoln had to say, since I’d loved Nona and Luke for far longer than I’d even known Lincoln, but a small, secret part of me wanted comfort. I wanted a hug and a good cry and someone to tell me it would be okay. I couldn’t have that with Luke, and it wasn’t the same if Lucia or Olivia did it. It just wasn’t the same.
But I didn’t know if he would offer. If he was even allowed to be there.
Lincoln took a deep breath and glanced over at me. “How are you feeling?”
“Shaky,” I said. My voice went a little high and I cleared my throat, sipping coffee to buy some time. “Tired all the time. I’m staying awake longer than an hour at a time, though, so I guess that’s progress.” And I tried to smile, like it wasn’t terrifying to be so weak and helpless. I’d never seen or felt anything like it.
“It is,” he said, deep voice serious. “With everything that happened... it’s a miracle you’re alive and still able to channel magic.”
“I haven’t touched magic since... since that night.”
“I know,” he said. Lincoln kept his tone gentle and all his movements slow and easy, like I was a wild animal and might startle if he got too loud. “But you still retain the ability. Which is the miracle. Most witches who use that kind of power are burned out forever.”
I studied the swirl of coffee in the mug and wondered where the hell Hazel and the shifters found that kind of coffee in town. Maybe they ordered it online or brought it with them. It beat our bargain-basement can of beans by a country mile. “Well, I’ve been told we’re not exactly witches.”
“That is also true.” Lincoln sat back, his broad shoulders taking up enough room I expected him to knock the rocking chair right over. My thoughts drifted as he lapsed into silence, and memories of the last time we’d sat on the porch crept up on me. It felt like an eternity had passed since we’d drunk whiskey and kissed like teenagers and he’d followed me up to my room. He didn’t reach for my hand, like I hoped. “That might have been what saved you—the blend of druid magic and witch magic meant y
ou didn’t expend too much of either. Hazel spoke to you about it, then.”
“A little bit. We got interrupted by Whitehouse before she could get into too much detail, so I’ll have to interrogate her later.” I rocked a little faster, studying the yard. The mess of Christmas and Halloween decorations had been cleaned up, and someone had repaired the small corral next to the barn. The horse wandered around inside the sturdy-looking fence, already nibbling on grass and a pile of hay someone had tossed in to her. Maybe Nelson and Mason had been up before me and only let me believe I was alone. If they were guarding me, it made sense not to let me see or hear their movements. The thought gave me the shivers, and not in a good way. It was like being haunted.
He sighed. “The challenge is going to be figuring out how you do what you do, and untangling what you learned. A druid and a witch would have to work together with each of you to understanding how the Luckett magic works.”
A druid and a witch working together. Sounded a lot like Hazel and him. I glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow. “Should I guess who that team will be?”
Lincoln didn’t smile back like I’d hoped, and my stomach sank. He wiped a hand over his face and sighed again. “Normally it would be Hazel and me. Unfortunately, with Heathrow disclosing my... relationship with you, Whitehouse won’t approve any further contact between us. Particularly not when it includes working magic in close quarters.”
“What difference would it make?” I shook my head, already dreading having to meet another druid. How many more of them were there? And what were the odds he would be more like Lincoln than Ronan? “We’d be chaperoned, it’s not like...” I flushed, about to say something about that night we’d cuddled in my bed. “Hazel would be there, and my sisters, and the guys.”
Lincoln nodded along and absently reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. The gentle roughness of his callused palm against mine sent shivers through me in a gentle rush, more reassuring than I’d planned. “Witnesses aren’t the problem, Luckett. Working magic together is. Working magic with others creates a bond that deepens with each experience. So if I were to show you how to work druid magic, and you showed me how you learned to use it, then we would be creating and reinforcing a two-way bond.”
“Is that so terrible?” My voice cracked and I stared at the yard, widening my eyes in case the tears that threatened escaped, and rocked faster.
His expression tensed and he turned toward me, trying to capture my other hand as well. “Luckett, come on. You know it’s not. Whitehouse is following the rule book, and he’s not going to let me deviate from the proper protocol. It’s my fault. I…disclosed that I have feelings for you and would like to continue to see you. Whitehouse gave me a choice: stay here in Rattler’s Run on the mission and not pursue any sort of romantic relationship with you, or return to headquarters to accept reassignment and only then attempt to rekindle... whatever it is between us.”
I didn’t know how to process what he said, staring hard at his mouth as his words slid and distorted across my ears. He had feelings for me. Wanted to continue seeing me. But he called me Luckett, when he’d started calling me Sass or Anastasia, and the loss struck out what he’d said about his feelings.
And he chose to stay in Rattler’s Run and not see me. He chose not to teach me the druid magic. I started shaking my head, pulling away from him, and Lincoln shifted to sit on the coffee table so he was right in front of me, gripping my knees. “Listen to me. Listen. Come on, Luckett.”
It was too much. I debated throwing my coffee in his face, but I didn’t want to waste the good stuff. “It’s fine. It’s fine, Lincoln. Your work is important and you’ve worked hard to be where you’re at and it wouldn’t have gone anywhere between us anyway. You’re not going to stay here and I can’t leave town, and that’s just how it is. So it’s better this way. It is. Rip the Band-Aid off.”
Maybe if I kept saying it, I’d eventually believe it. It would have been hard enough to see him leave, but having him around and not being able to touch or talk to him... Breathing grew more difficult. It would be torture. I really would have to go live out at the Crossroads in a tent just to keep from going crazy.
Lincoln carefully took the coffee cup and set it on the other end of the table so he could hold both of my hands. “That’s not why I stayed, Luckett. I couldn’t leave you here at the mercy of Heathrow and his people. Whitehouse is fair, but Heathrow will be whispering in his ear every day. I need to be here to protect you. And when the investigation is over, we can take things one day at a time.”
“When the investigation is over,” I said slowly, wondering what he didn’t understand about the constraints of time and space. “You’ll be back at your headquarters or wherever you came from. There won’t be a day at a time, because we’ll be on different sides of the country.”
“They’re talking about opening a field office here,” Lincoln said. His lips compressed in a thin line and I wondered whether he was trying not to smile or scowl. “It’s going to be tricky, since the locals are not thrilled about having a bunch of us government types hanging around. If we do things right over the next couple of months, I’ll be the only logical choice to run the field office.”
It wouldn’t work the way he wanted. I knew that much from experience. Nothing ever went the way we planned, not in Rattler’s Run. I couldn’t find any words to argue with him, my energy fading. It was hard to be optimistic about anything when just breathing felt like running a marathon.
When I didn’t speak, Lincoln sighed and scrubbed at his face. “I know. I wish things were different.”
“Me too.” I’d been wishing that a lot, almost every day since he walked into the bar and offered me a job.
He returned slowly to his chair and the silence stretched between us.
I half-dozed by the time Lincoln moved. “Here.”
I blinked and sat up, shaking myself awake, and took the fat envelope he held out. I opened it enough to see a massive amount of cash—hundred-dollar bills, a huge stack crowded into the envelope. I choked and almost dropped it, staring at him. “Wh—What is this?”
“Your fee for a job well done.” He smiled but looked as tired as I felt. “And a bonus for saving our lives a couple of times.”
“Holy shit,” I said under my breath. I would have started dreaming of all the projects we could have gotten done around the house, but Nelson and Mason and the werewolves had taken care of all of them. I shook my head and started to hand it back, not liking the thought of that kind of karma hanging around me. “It’s too much.”
“Nope, it’s just right. Even Whitehouse agreed.” He leaned back and laced his hands across his flat stomach. “He signed off on it. But that’s not the bonus.”
My eyes narrowed as I looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
He nodded at the yard, the corner of his mouth twitching, and I looked at the drive just as a truck turned onto the gravel. It was definitely my truck, although someone had washed it, repaired the dented fender, replaced the tires, and it was running. I blinked and looked at where my truck had been parked the last time I bothered to check, but of course it wasn’t there. The truck stopped in the yard, close enough that I could limp down to see it. Lincoln waited until I found some work boots to shove on my feet, then helped me down the steps to the patchy grass.
He even wrapped the blanket more tightly around me and held my arm so I walked a straight line instead of the meandering path I’d started on. The driver’s-side door opened and Eddie stepped out, beaming as he flipped the keys around his finger. “Luckett, thank God. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t be around to bug me anymore.”
It was such a relief to see his face, his grin, the easy way he walked. I walked right at him and collapsed against his chest with relief, and managed to wrap my arms around him as the ranger did the same. I couldn’t breathe, closing my eyes, and pressed my face against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
He cleared
his throat a couple of times, squeezing me so tightly my bones bent, and his voice sounded a little rusty. “I’m glad you’re alive, you wretch, and don’t ever do that to us again. You hear?”
I retreated and wiped the fresh tears off my cheeks with the blanket, trying to get myself back together enough to ask what the hell was going on.
Eddie held the door open for me and absently wiped away from dirt his boots tracked in near the pedals. “Me ’n’ Jimmy fixed it up for you. Replaced the transmission and the starter and most of your belts, fixed up the radiator, got some new heavy-duty tires on there, and got the seats cleaned up. It should run real well for you now, Luckett.”
I had to clear my throat a whole bunch before I could speak, staring at the truck as if I’d never seen it before—since it felt like I hadn’t. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Lincoln said you did some big thing to save us all from danger,” he said, gesturing in Lincoln’s direction. “So you don’t have to say anything. We were more than happy to get the work done, and your pal paid for the parts. It all comes out in the wash, Luckett.”
“I can’t accept that,” I said. I turned to Lincoln, shaking my head. “I can’t. This is too much. You can’t tell me that your boss—”
“Nelson and Mason might have done some damage,” he said with a straight face. “Or maybe it was the werewolves. Either way, we had to repair the damage. And you deserved it. I would have gotten you a whole new truck, but Hazel didn’t think you’d accept it.”
“I wouldn’t have.” I held the blanket close and wondered whether I could tell them to take it back and ding it up again. Break the engine and put all the bad parts back into it. They’d never do it. I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “Then thank you, I guess. It’s still too much.”
Eddie winked as he handed me the keys. “I’m sure you’ll run it into the ground pretty quickly, with your luck.”
