The Wanderer's Children

by L. G. O'Connor

  She listened for her guests. Silence. Guess I’m the first one up, she thought. Even Chloe was still asleep in her pink toile dog bed on the floor next to them, a lump under a pink fleece blanket embroidered with the word Princess.

  Brett and Paco were in the guest rooms, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Angel was still asleep in a lounge chair on the roof deck where he’d passed out last night. The rest of the Guardians were either stationed at local safe houses or on patrol.

  A wicked smile played on her lips. When she texted Sienna last night, it was more than a happy coincidence. Unknown to Michael, he’d been “projecting” during their sexcapade. Still new in his role, he probably didn’t realize how strong his psychic link was within their Trinity.

  Cara giggled, even though it hadn’t been so funny last night.

  She’d been in the middle of polite conversation with Zeke when it happened. Not only did an image of Michael and Sienna in flagrante delicto flash before her eyes, but she was rocked by an intense orgasm. She almost fell out of her chair and could only imagine what Zeke must’ve thought at her reaction. Politely excusing herself by feigning temporary illness, she searched for Simon. She found his hulking figure standing alone in the stairwell, leaning up against the wall in closed-eyed ecstasy.

  They slipped away to his bedroom for a quickie before returning to the party.

  They were hit a second time after they were already in bed.

  As tempted as they’d been to let Michael know what was happening, they didn’t want to spoil his night. The things you do for your Trinity, she thought. Cara had been elected by Simon to tell Michael.

  Michael, private and very proper, would be mortified when he found out. Thankfully, the phenomenon wasn’t bidirectional, since neither she nor Simon had the same type of psychic abilities as Michael.

  What put the smug smile on her face was the knowledge that she’d been right all along about Michael and Sienna: they were great together, although she would’ve preferred skipping the show.

  Cara let Simon sleep as she slipped away to the shower. Her head wasn’t too bad, only a mild hangover to pay for last night’s transgressions. She’d done worse damage.

  There were big tasks to tackle this morning, least of which was cleaning the place up and locating all the members of her wedding party for brunch with her parents at one o’clock. The biggest task by far would be strapping on Cupid’s bow and quiver to see if she could replicate her success with Michael and Sienna for Brett and Jessa. Even if she couldn’t help them blaze a trail to true love, maybe she could at least get them on the same page.

  Speaking of… there seems to be a whole lotta lovin’ in the air lately… practically an epidemic, Cara thought as she flipped off her blow dryer.

  Simon continued to sleep soundly after she dressed. Leaning down, she brushed her lips in a sweet kiss over the soft skin of his cheek. He stirred but didn’t wake. She snuck out, closing the door behind her.

  The apartment was still when she reached the kitchen. She put on a large pot of coffee and started the kitchen clean-up. Discarded cans, bottles, and plates littered the counter even though most of the activities occurred up on the deck. She loaded the dishwasher to capacity and started it. Taking all the recyclables, she placed them into the empty boxes used to cart the alcohol and left them next to the elevator. She’d have the guys take them down to the dumpster in the basement later.

  As she wiped down the counter, strong, warm arms encircled her from behind. She leaned back into Simon and inhaled the scent of clean cotton and her favorite cologne. He nibbled her ear, drawing a smile out of her.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” he whispered, enfolding her body into the strong muscles of his chest. The warm columns of his arms surrounded her shoulders and his hands rested on her hips.

  She turned and put her arms around his neck, peering up into his smiling eyes. “You looked so peaceful.” She pulled him down for a kiss, never tiring of feeling his warmth and the touch of his body against hers.

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Let me help.”

  She winked at him. “I think the smell of cooked bacon would draw a crowd; what do you think?”

  He headed over to the fridge. “Good idea. Plus, I’m ravenous.”

  “I’ll get us some coffee,” she said, pouring them both a cup. The door to Paco’s room opened and reclosed. “Make that three cups,” she added under her breath.

  Paco came into the kitchen with a wide smile on his face. “Make that four,” he said.

  Damn that Nephilim hearing, she thought, raising her eyebrow at the usually stoic Paco and wondering who had kept him company the night before. She glanced over at Simon who was cracking eggs into a bowl. He looked back at her and shrugged, equally clueless.

  “You look… happy,” she said.

  “Do you have any aspirin, Cara?” Paco asked her as he poured milk into his coffee cup, ignoring her comment.

  “Yeah, how many do you need?”

  “Two and they’re not for me,” he said.

  The guest room door swung open and out staggered Irene. “They’re for me,” she said. “My head is pounding. For flip’s sake, how much did I drink last night?”

  Cara and Simon just stared at one another, a look of shock passing between them.

  “Pelirroja, what do you take in your coffee?” he asked softly.

  “Black, Paquito,” she said affectionately and climbed up onto a barstool, turning to Cara and Simon. “And will you two stop looking at us like that? He was a perfect gentleman. I, on the other hand, passed out like a drunk.”

  Paco placed the coffee in front of Irene, put his arm briefly around her, and bestowed a kiss to the top of her head. He whispered something in her ear and she smiled.

  Cara chuckled and threw her hands up in the air. “We’re all adults here. For the record, I think it’s cute. Breakfast anyone?”

  Simon had the eggs and bacon cooking on the stove top. He was ready to plate the first batch of food when the door to the roof deck slammed open and shut, followed by a groan that echoed down the hallway.

  Angel arrived in the kitchen looking like death warmed over. His black hair pasted to one side of his head, he looked at her out of dark bloodshot eyes. “Cara, would you pour a dying man a cup of coffee? Cream and three sugars, please, kind lady.”

  “Sure, Angel. You don’t look so well. Are you all right?” she asked with a sideways glance as she reached for a coffee cup.

  “Too much tequila. It came in like a lamb and left like a lion carrying a piece of my skull with it.” He slumped on the barstool next to Irene. He looked up, noticing her for the first time. Then he glanced over at Paco who wore his best poker face.

  He smiled broadly. “Nice to know sometimes you listen.”

  Paco turned away to refill his cup, avoiding everyone’s eyes. His Nephilim energy curled in wisps around the room, silently telling everyone to back off. The only person unable to feel it was Irene, who walked over to the freezer and pulled out a sixteen-ounce bag of baby peas, placing them on top of her head.

  “Eye, are you all right? I’ve never seen you wear frozen vegetables before,” Cara said, stifling a laugh.

  “I’ve never had a hangover quite like this before. I’m enjoying the numbness.”

  “Just don’t accidentally give yourself brain freeze.”

  Simon set down four plates with eggs, bacon, and toast, keeping his plate by the stove as he made a second batch.

  Brett entered the kitchen from the dining room dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Like the rest of the crowd, he wore dark circles under his eyes like a fashion accessory.

  He looked like he hadn’t slept at all.

  Cara smiled. “Morning, Brett. Breakfast?”

  Angel looked over at Brett and smirked. “Bacon for you this morning, m’ijo?”

  Brett narrowed his eyes. “Burnt pig flesh? No, thanks.”

  Cara couldn’t figure out if he was cranky because he hadn’t slep
t or because he was wound up over Jessa. She would bet on the latter.

  “I’ll take his bacon,” Irene piped up.

  Obviously the hangover’s not interfering with her appetite, Cara thought.

  Simon turned from the stove. “Brett, are eggs okay, or do want some yogurt, fresh fruit, and granola? There’s some in the fridge. I can put it together for you.”

  Cara smiled, appreciating Simon’s effort to be hospitable to Brett. Ever since he’d seen the look in Brett’s eyes when he looked at Jessa he’d been nicer to him.

  Brett poured the remains of the coffee into his cup. “Thanks. Eggs are fine. Fruit would be great, too.” Then he reached out and grabbed Cara’s arm as she stood leaning on the island. “Can we talk in private?”

  She nodded. Taking their coffee, they rounded the corner into the living room.

  Brett placed his cup down on the low table next to sofa and Cara followed suit. Keyed up, Brett didn’t fully sit but rather balanced on the edge next to her, ready to bounce back up. He raked his hands through his loose blond hair. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Can we go over to your place? I have to see her.”

  His eyes held a crazy desperation. She touched his arm. “We’ll see her. I texted her this morning and she’s feeling better. I know you’re anxious, but we don’t want to spook her, either. She ran off for a reason, Brett. You need to give me a little time to find out why.”

  What Cara didn’t share with Brett was that Jessa had refused to discuss what had happened. But Cara wasn’t about to let it go.

  His face crumpled and he held his head in his hands. “What did I do? Why did she run?”

  She touched his hair, her heart going out to him, but the pull she’d felt the other day was noticeably missing. “Hey,” she said softly, “You didn’t do anything wrong; this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her. I can almost guarantee it.”

  When he looked up, his eyes held longing, but this time for someone else. “You think so?”

  “I know so. After breakfast, we’ll get Paco to drive us and Irene back to the penthouse. I’ll talk to Jessa first, and then I’ll buy you some time with her until we have to leave for brunch with my parents. Deal?”

  He gave her a small smile and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Chapter 39

  IRENE

  New York City. Sunday, May 26, 11:30 AM ET

  IRENE RELUCTANTLY ABANDONED the bag of frozen baby peas at the loft before they left. Neither the throbbing of her head nor the unsavory task of scattering her spy gadgets throughout Cara and Simon’s possessions could interfere with the smile on her lips as she looked out the passenger window of the SUV. She wore a dreamy, idiotic look on her face and it had everything to do with the man sitting next to her in the driver’s seat.

  Cara and Brett talked in heated whispers behind her as Paco drove them back to the penthouse. She tuned them out and thought back to earlier… in Paco’s room.

  She’d woken up without a single clue of where she was or how she’d ended up there. After a moment her eyes flew open and she gasped… loudly. She lay spooned into a man’s warmth, a huge caramel-colored arm draped over her from behind. Closing her eyes, it all came back to her—Paco. Kissing him and wanting him desperately.

  “Pelirroja,” he breathed into her ear. “Are you awake?” His lips gently connected with her neck. Warm jolts of electricity shot through her, awakening every part of her in their path. Too bad her pounding head threatened to ruin the party.

  “Mmm, that feels so good,” she said, baring more of her neck for him to nibble on. He trailed his fingertips down along her arm and then slowly rolled her over to face him. Her eyes still semiclosed, she drew in a breath at the sight of him. His brown eyes warmed when he looked at her.

  “Good morning,” he said softly and kissed her gently. Irene reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, barely able to believe this handsome god actually wanted to kiss her in the first place.

  Ay Dios mío, he’s so delicious, she thought, surrendering herself to him and ignoring the agonizing pain in her skull.

  He responded under her lips, taking over, possessing her with his kiss and leaving her breathless. His hands dug down underneath her back, lifting her off the bed and closer to him until she was pressed up against his body.

  “Pelirroja, you are a beautiful woman, and if you stay in my bed any longer I may not let you leave,” he whispered, his voice silky and seductive.

  She cringed as a bolt of pain stabbed her behind the eyes. Her hands cradled the sides of her face. Warmed by her new nickname, she repaid the endearment by using the proper Spanish nickname for Paco’s name. “Paquito, if my head didn’t feel like it was about to explode, you couldn’t make me leave this bed.”

  His face lit up in a smile and he kissed her on the forehead. “May I get you some aspirin, niña bonita?”

  “You’re my hero,” she said.

  He leaned in for one more kiss before he got out of bed to dress. Ducking into the bathroom, he emerged a few minutes later looking presentable. More than she could say for herself, staring down at her rumpled dress.

  “Meet me outside when you’re ready,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  “Irene?” Cara’s voice snapped her back.

  “Huh? What?” Irene asked, twisting around to look at her friend.

  “I asked you what train you’re taking later,” Cara said.

  The thought of leaving suddenly made her heartsick and she saw Paco tense out of the corner of her eye. How crazy was this? She met him last night, and the thought of leaving him made her physically ill. “Um, I planned on taking the five o’clock train from Penn Station,” she said quietly. “Why?”

  “With you and Jessa leaving, I’m trying to coordinate transportation for later,” she said.

  “I’ll take her, Cara,” said Paco quietly, reaching over to take Irene’s hand inside of his and giving it a squeeze. “Is that okay with you, Pelirroja?”

  Irene smiled brightly, trying to cover her anguish. She felt like a lovesick puppy. “More than okay.” She kept her hand nestled in his and stared out the window, as Paco drove them into the underground garage.

  It took ages to weave their way through the maze of twists and turns before Paco let them out at the elevator leading to the penthouse and went to park.

  Cara twisted the key in the special elevator keypad and whisked them up to the top floor. Brett looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin; small beads of sweat formed on his upper lip.

  “Brett, hang out while I speak with Jessa. Try to relax,” Cara said before the elevator door opened. She looked at her watch. “We’ll have about thirty minutes before Sienna and my parents arrive.”

  He licked his lips and nodded. “Okay.”

  Irene shook her head, thinking back to last night when Cara filled her in on what had happened. What the heck was the matter with Jessa? A famous, hot rock star sings to you in front of almost three thousand people and wants to get you a drink afterward… and you run? The girl needed her head examined.

  The penthouse was silent when they entered the marble foyer. Cara turned to Irene. “Can you take Brett into the living room?”

  “Sure,” she said and led the way into the large open space as Cara cut down the hall toward the guest rooms.

  Brett paced, lost in thought. His actions struck a chord with Irene as she struggled with her own unexpected dilemma. “Hey,” she said softly. Brett looked up as if noticing her for the first time. “Can you tell Paco I’ll be back? I just need to jump in the shower and change quickly before Cara’s parents get here.”

  He gave her a wan smile. “Yeah, sure. No problem,” he said and resumed pacing.

  Assuming Cara had the “Jessa situation” well in hand, Irene raced back to her room. Not only did she need to get herself ready, but she needed to execute her plan before they left for brunch, reminding herself she was doing th
is for the greater good of saving her friend. Her head pounded with every step she took, but she’d suffer the discomfort just to get through the next few hours.

  CARA

  “Jessa,” Cara said, her knuckles softly tapping on Jessa’s door before she entered. Jessa sat unmoving on the bed, looking no better than Brett. Her eyes held signs of exhaustion and her shoulders slumped. She looked like a frail, angelic doll in her sundress, enfolded inside of the long curls that draped around her shoulders.

  Jessa looked at her as she entered, but made no effort to move. “I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

  Jessa’s despair hit Cara squarely in the stomach. She sat next to Jessa and wrapped her arm around Jessa’s thin shoulders and said softly, “Sweetie, what’s the matter? You look awful.”

  A tear escaped her eye as she glanced at Cara. “I didn’t want to put anything in a text or say anything over the phone. But I had to go. If I stayed, something bad could’ve happened… to Brett.”

  A chill tickled Cara’s spine. “What do you mean? Did you have a vision?”

  Jessa nodded. “Not just one.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I can’t tell you,” she whispered with pleading eyes.

  Cara frowned. “Why? You’ve always been able to tell me before.”

  “Not this time.”

  Cara’s heart dropped. “Jessa, he’s drawn to you… to the point of desperation. Will you at least talk to him?”

  “It’s not a good idea,” Jessa said as she got up from the bed and paced.

  “Would it make a difference if I told you he’s here?” Cara asked, hoping Jessa would change her mind. Cara weighed her concern over Jessa’s visions against Brett’s heart and his desperation to see Jessa again. If love was even a remote possibility for them, her choice was clear—she and the others would body block any danger that came Brett’s way, if necessary.

  Jessa stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Here?” A wave of heat smacked Cara, telling her Jessa felt something akin to what Brett felt.