Granny’s eyes widened, and she stared in bewilderment. Clearly, the wheels were coming off. “Grace, I know you’re worried about Ellie, but, honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about. This has nothing to do with what happened to Lucy…”
“Oh, yes, it does! You think you know everything, but you don’t! You don’t know the half of it! You think you’re all one big happy family here…well, I’ll tell you what—when my sister was really in trouble, when she really needed help, she came to me. Me. Her real, bona fide flesh and blood, non-Gifted family member. Not some people she shares one lousy gene with. And I’ll tell—”
“Gracie?”
The voice was soft, yet commanding. Granny breathed a sigh of relief as Joe Manning joined the conversation, bringing an instant end to Grace’s diatribe. Both women turned towards the screen which was now split into two views—the original, of Rishi in his comfortable chair, and the new one, a head and shoulders image of Joe.
Rishi shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, ladies, I thought perhaps we needed an intervention.”
Granny gave him a brief wave of thanks, then focused on her esteemed colleague and friend. Joe was dressed nicely, in a dark navy suit and a red patterned tie. She hated that they were interrupting what was probably an important meeting or a fine meal, but if anyone could bring order to this chaos, it was Joe. Still, it was Grace’s reaction to him that surprised her most.
The shrieking hysteria evaporated, and tears welled up in her eyes. As Granny watched, the spunky, take-no-prisoners maiden aunt morphed into a whimpering schoolgirl. She begged him, “Joe, please! Please go and get her. Bring her back to me. Now! I can’t lose her. I can’t!”
His voice was gentle, “Grace, it’s all right. She’s fine. I talked to Angel twenty minutes ago. They’re at her boyfriend’s apartment. Safe and sound. He’s making them dinner, and they’re going to watch a movie. She’s having fun.”
Grace’s nose was bright red now, and tears were openly running down her cheeks. “But did you actually talk to Ellie? Did you see her?”
Joe wrinkled his forehead, allowing some frustration to show. “No, I didn’t talk directly to Ellie, honey, but she was there, with Angel. Where else would she be?” He sighed. “You don’t trust any of us, do you, Gracie?”
She bit her lip and looked down at the floor.
“Look, how ’bout I call them right now? Or why don’t you call her yourself? Will that put your mind at ease?”
There was a moment of silence during which Grace sniffled and appeared to be wiping tears from her face. Finally, she lifted her head and shook it quickly. “No. You’re right, Joe. I’m totally overreacting. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, honey. It’s my fault. I should’ve realized you weren’t ready—”
Rishi shifted noisily in his chair, as if to remind Joe that he and Grace were not alone. Joe’s tone changed to a more businesslike manner, “Um, that is, I should’ve respected your wishes as her guardian and not pushed you to let me bring her along.”
Grace, too, seemed to recover her composure. “It’s all right, Joe. And Rishi…I’m sorry for running all over you like that. I know you’re just doing your job. Please keep us updated if you find out anything new.”
Rishi smiled and nodded, then signed off.
Anxious to relieve Grace’s stress, Granny pointed toward the window. “Look, Grace, Doo’s on his way in. Gilda must be feeling better. You’ve done a marvelous job with her. I think Chef Ren left some plates for you two in the front kitchen. Why don’t you go relax and have a late supper together?”
Grace peered out the window. “Well, now that you mention it, I am pretty hungry. That’s a good idea. I’ll go catch him.”
As Grace started toward the door of the lab, Joe, who was still on the screen, called out to her, “So I’ll have Ellie call you as soon as they get back, okay?”
Granny sagged. No sooner had she gotten Grace’s mind off the girl for a minute, than Joe was reminding her to hurry back for an update. Couldn’t he see that Doo was a perfect distraction for the little worry wart? She glanced back up at the screen as Joe signed off, noting the sour expression on his face. Hmm, maybe he could see that, and he wasn’t liking it so much.
# # #
“So sorry, ladies. Important call. Wha’d I miss?” Joe smiled amiably at his dinner companions as he resumed his seat at the table and laid the white linen napkin back in his lap. The three, Dr. Hannah Graber from the Max Planck Institute, her assistant, Dr. Eva Ruehlein, and his personal escort for the evening, Nadia Pavlenco, were all bright, charming, and highly accomplished women. And they were all, of course, Gifted Ones. The two Germans were world-renowned archeologists, while Nadia, a former Olympic hopeful from Romania—a gymnast, sidelined by a wrist injury—was now making use of her lithe physique as a Council Defender. Yet, despite what should have been a scintillating engagement, Joe found himself distracted.
It certainly wasn’t their fault. The three ladies shared a charming, non-stop banter, and the two younger ones, at least, were very easy on the eyes, but the face that Joe kept seeing was Grace’s. Before today, he’d only seen her cry once. That was the day that he’d tried to explain to her why he had to go away, why he was leaving them all, why Grace would never get to wear the beautiful maid-of-honor dress they had picked out together. Until that moment, even he hadn’t realized that his engagement to Lucy was about more than just the two of them. He had not understood how tight was the bond that had formed with her family, as well. Especially her little sister.
And although he continued to be a part of both their lives for a long time after, he had never again seen that degree of vulnerability on Grace’s face. He had never doubted it was there; he had simply accepted that he would no longer be privy to it. Seeing her like that today, and more so, knowing that she’d allowed it, and allowed him to help her, had shaken him to his core. Perhaps a bridge he’d thought long since burned could be rebuilt.
“Don’t you agree, Dr. Manning?”
Dammit. Caught in the act. Joe lifted his napkin to his lips, buying himself a second to see if he had subconsciously heard anything that Dr. Graber had just been saying. He hadn’t. “Well, I…” Oh hell, where was the waiter when you needed him?
“You see, I told you he wouldn’t want to take sides on this,” Nadia offered with a catty tone. “Joe never wants to offend, and repatriation of religious artifacts is just too controversial a topic for dinner conversation. I mean, who’s to say whether the Vatican or the state should take ownership? Right, Joe?” She flashed him a bright smile.
“Exactly what I was thinking, Nadia. Thank you for putting it so succinctly.” Joe gave her a grateful look and took a large swallow of his wine. What Nadia lacked in physical size and strength, she more than made up for with her quick thinking. As he had assured her during the recruitment process, there was more to being a Defender than simple bulk.
And she once again proved herself valuable when, a little while later, she caught him stealing a glance at his phone, as it lay on the table beside his plate. She laid a hand on it, then addressed the other two women, “If you’ll all excuse me, I need to run to the powder room.” She picked up Joe’s phone as she stood and said quietly, “Angel?”
He nodded briefly and said, “Just a quick check-in.” She smiled and left them. Clearly, Angel’s training of the young Romanian had included a section on “how to anticipate the boss’ needs even before he knows what they are.” He wasn’t the least bit concerned about Angel and Ellie’s visit with the boyfriend, but he knew Grace would appreciate his staying on top of it.
He forced himself to focus on Dr. Ruehlein’s description of a new dig site in the southernmost part of Africa where some pre-human remains had recently been uncovered. Her enthusiasm and vivid imagery allowed him to forget momentarily about Grace and her little meltdown. When Nadia returned a few moments later, however, the agitation on her face brought it all back.
Rather than
taking her seat, she beckoned to Joe. He once again excused himself, and Nadia led him to an alcove outside the dining room. She pushed his phone back at him. “She’s not answering. Not calls or texts. I tried more than once.”
“Well, she doesn’t always answer right away. Maybe they’re eating or watching the movie. Let’s—”
“Call her on the nano? I tried. Three times.”
Joe’s heart skipped a beat. Angel was imminently capable; he had said many times that he would trust her with his life and anyone else’s, too. But no one is infallible. And Angel never failed to respond to the nano. In fact, she’d leave the tiny microphone in her ear at times when the monitors preferred she didn’t. Even undercover, she’d say something to let her monitor know she was okay. Joe kept his voice steady, “How far is it to Carlo’s apartment?”
Nadia tapped on her phone a couple times. “An hour. Fifty minutes, if we break a few laws.”
Joe closed his eyes for a minute and pressed his index and middle fingers into his forehead. When he opened them, he was dead calm. He pointed back toward the dining room. “Give the bone sisters our apologies, then meet me out front.” He turned toward the door, still talking to her, “I’ll drive, you make the calls.”
# # #
“Sorry, gorgeous, gotta run. Can you let yourself out?” Enrique Espinoza tossed his phone across the room, landing it perfectly on top of the pile of his clothes in the corner, then threw back a tangled bedsheet.
“C’est quoi ce bordel?!” The willowy blonde sat straight up as Rique pulled away from her. Her tousled hair fell around her shoulders, and the bedcovers sank to her waist, displaying her perfect white breasts for his viewing pleasure.
He paused briefly, taking it in, and then, shaking his head at the wastefulness of the moment, proceeded to leap out of the bed. As he slid into his black jeans and yanked a dark T-shirt over his head, she assailed him with a litany of French that sounded most unpleasant. He ducked to avoid being hit with a picture frame she had grabbed off the bedside table, and simultaneously snatched his boots off the floor. As he pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, he cringed at the sound of glass breaking against it. Fortunately for Rique, he didn’t speak a word of the lovely lady’s primary language.
Damn shame to walk out on that one. He’d have to look her up…if he ever found himself in Monaco. But some things were more important. He pulled his leather jacket on, verified his equipment, and headed out.
Once outside his building, Rique checked the address on his phone. He looked up and down the street; it was dark, save for the illumination of corner lampposts. He assessed the situation, his brain quickly calculating the options, then he began to move. He darted between cars, crossing in the middle of the block, and then slipped down a narrow passage that separated two of the newer buildings on his street. Soon he was moving, almost noiselessly, down alleys, around tool sheds, over fences, and past sleeping dogs. In a motor vehicle, or even on a bicycle, the D.C. area could be a nightmare for navigation, but on foot, and with a modicum of agility, one could move swiftly to his destination, enjoying the cover of so many obstacles. In just under eleven minutes, Rique traveled a distance that would have taken half an hour in a car, and twice that at rush hour.
But this wasn’t rush hour. It was close to ten o’clock, and in this neighborhood, things were relatively quiet. If there was someone on the street, they were probably best avoided. Rique peered around the corner of the brick building he had come to, squinting in the darkness. Carlo Lucinni’s street was even less well-lit than Rique’s. He scanned slowly, his senses tuned, seeking any interruption to the stillness.
He pulled out his night-vision binoculars and focused on three vehicles parked along the street. One, a large black SUV with tinted windows, was an obvious suspect. He couldn’t see the plate from where he stood, but the complete lack of road salt corrosion on the body told him that that car had not spent the prior winter in the Washington metro area. A second, more subtle contender, was parked on the next block. From a distance, it looked like just another overpriced sedan, but Rique recognized the styling as that of a late-model Jag—way too expensive for this neighborhood. The third vehicle—the one with steamed, rather than tinted windows—definitely had people in it and was the least of his concerns. He only hoped the young couple would tie up their tryst and move on. He had no interest in seeing innocent bystanders get hurt.
The landscape, he was already familiar with. It was an older building, which meant it actually had a few trees growing around it, miraculously enough, in the thirty-foot-wide strip of grass that surrounded it. Beyond that was a short iron fence, bordering the grass, which could potentially be an issue. Of course, Rique could easily jump over it, but others might get tripped up. And if he ended up with the package, things might get really messy.
Finally, he turned his head upward, angling it as much as he could without exposing himself. He tried to suss out what was going on behind the lighted windows three stories up. From his vantage point, though, he couldn’t even tell if the curtains were drawn. He reeled in the tension and stood straight again. He wanted to slip in the side door or shimmy up the fire escape and bust on in there, but that wasn’t his job. How was he supposed to just stand there, when anything could be happening? Waiting and watching had never been Enrique’s strong suit.
He took a deep breath and then blew it out. Even a loner like him needed to play it cool and be part of a team sometimes. Just not too often. Look what it had done for Angel. She was always so high and mighty on her beloved band of Gifted Ones. Sure, the G.O.s had done a lot for both of them, but that didn’t mean they owed them their lives. And who said they even needed to be rescued from the streets anyway? They were doing okay on their own. Rique had learned to be a helluva sneak-thief at only seven years old, and as soon as he’d grown just a little bigger, he’d have been watching out for Angel, instead of the other way around. And then neither one of them would be caught up in this mess they were in tonight.
# # #
“You’re not still frettin’ about Ellie now, are you? ’Cause I got something that can fix that.” Doo reached across the picnic blanket and picked up the wine bottle. “A little more?”
Grace appreciated that he at least asked. It had always bothered her when men would refill her wine glass or order her an additional drink without consulting her first. Maybe they were just being polite, but it was a little too fraternity-house pushy for her taste. Doo, for all his marvelous masculinity, appeared to have been raised to treat women with respect. “No, thanks, Doo. I’m fine, really. I’m embarrassed that I got so upset. I’m not even worried anymore.”
He grinned in a way that told her he didn’t believe her, but he set the bottle back down in the ice bucket. “Then how about a little of this?” He uncovered a small plate that had been among the many that Chef Renni had left for them.
Grace’s eyes widened at the sight of several small, perfectly shaped blobs of very dark brown. Doo selected one and held it under her nose. The pungent aroma of bittersweet chocolate assailed her senses. “Omigod! Give me that!” He laughed and obliged her, pushing it between her lips. “Mmmmmm.” She leaned back on her hands, closed her eyes, and rolled the soft mass around on her tongue, savoring the flavor while it melted in her mouth. When it was gone, she opened her eyes again and looked over at him. “Wow, that was heavenly. How do you stand it? I’d weigh five hundred pounds if I lived here.”
Doo had leaned back on his hands, too, and was staring up at the clear, starry sky. “No you wouldn’t. ’Cause you’d spend all your time out here.” He waved one hand across the dark, open stretch in front of them. “You’d be in the barn with the animals, or out in the pasture, or up there, in the hills. And you wouldn’t need any wine, ’cause you’d be drunk on fresh air and sunshine.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
She wrinkled her forehead suspiciously. “Did Joe put you up to this?”
>
He sat straight up. “Joe? Manning? Heck no! Why would you say that?” He looked genuinely surprised by her question.
She gave her head a little shake. “Sorry, it’s just…Joe has been hounding me. He really, really wants us to stay. He thinks this is the best place for Ellie.”
“And what about you? Where’s the best place for Grace?”
“Me? What difference does that make? Nobody wants to kidnap me.”
“O-o-oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” He gave her a devilish grin, then shifted his attention back to the night sky.
Grace found herself blushing and quickly followed his gaze, finding it easier to focus on the constellations than the lanky farmhand.
“Seriously, Gracie, you need to think about yourself, too. Don’t you think your happiness matters to Ellie as much as hers matters to you? Do you think she wants to go through life feeling like you gave up everything for her? You gave up vet school, you left your beau, and you moved far away to a strange town, because all that was best for Ellie.”
She turned sharply toward him, her mouth agape. “Wait a minute! How did you—”
His shoulders drooped, and he pushed his hat back on his head. “Oh, uh, sorry, Grace. It’s just…”
“Wait, I know. Elmyra.”
He looked sheepish. “I didn’t ask, I swear. She volunteered the information. She’s got that whole database of all the Gifted folks and their families…”
Grace sighed and patted his hand. “It’s okay. I understand. That old busybody’s just got way too much information at her disposal.”
He just smiled. “All I’m sayin’, Grace, is…you don’t have to be a martyr. You’ve done a lot for Ellie. And she appreciates it, I’m sure, but maybe it’s time to let somebody else do a little. There are people here who want to be her friends and teachers and mentors. Let them do it. Let them help. Every one of us has something to learn from everyone else.”
The Gifted Ones: A Reader Page 16
