All right, enough of this shit. They didn’t have all day to stand around while Haden got up close and personal with the woman’s intimates. Creepy bastard… “You ‘bout done playing with the girl’s panties?” Rowen snapped, stepping into the room. “Her roommate could be back any minute, and believe me, you don’t want her guardian finding you here.”
Balen had earned a well-deserved reputation among the fallen society, and like Liam, was highly feared among the Dark Court. Rowen had learned from Max’s mistake of underestimating the Ronnin warriors, and he had no intention of repeating history here tonight.
“I fear no guardian,” Haden snapped defiantly, tossing the nightgown back on the bed as if it were yesterday’s trash.
Rowen scowled. It was this kind of cocky shit that was gonna get them killed. “Ashley’s ‘guardian’ isn’t a guardian, smart ass. He’s Ronnin, just like Liam.”
When Haden glanced at him, there was a wildness dancing in those pale green eyes that made Rowen a bit uneasy. This nut job was cracked—plain and simple.
“Warriors serving as guardians, huh? Interesting…”
“Yeah, it’s real tits. Why don’t you ask Cale how interesting he thinks it is?” Rowen growled, tipping his head toward the demon. “I’m sure he’d love to tell you how he got that scar on his face. And he’s lucky, too—almost got his damn head lopped off!”
Haden’s gaze sought out Cale, who was pacing the living room, obviously anxious to leave.
“Let’s go,” Rowen barked. “We’re stinking up the place!” Turning abruptly, he walked out of the bedroom and didn’t stop to wait for the others as he marched out the front door. If those fuck-ups didn’t have their asses in this car in the next thirty seconds, then sayonara, suckers. They’d already been here too long. If Ashley came home anytime soon, Balen would scent them for sure, and the last thing they needed was to kick the hornet’s nest this early in the game.
***
It was the middle of the night by the time Liam pulled into the parking lot of a hole-in-the-wall “No Tell Motel.” They’d traveled countless miles and were somewhere in Tennessee when he’d finally felt Olivia fall asleep. Her emotional grid was calm and her soft, rhythmic breathing confirmed her peaceful slumber. Pulling up to the office, he quietly exited the car, keeping a watchful eye on her through the lobby window.
Inside, the front desk was empty except for a bell sitting in the center of the counter. Liam tapped it and a loud ding filled the small office. He looked around for the clerk as the soft echo of a TV carried out from the back room. Sighing impatiently, he stood there waiting, while frequently glancing out at his car to check on Olivia.
After another minute of no response, he stepped around the corner of the desk and opened the back door. An old black and white, sporting a set of rabbit ears, cast reflections onto the craggy features of a man sleeping in a recliner. A rusty old TV tray sat beside the arm of his chair. In one hand was a burning cigarette, in the other a beer, and a remote control rested in his lap.
“Excuse me,” Liam said, irritation making his voice crisp.
The man startled awake. Arms flailing, he dropped the beer as he flew out of the chair, disoriented and cranky. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”
Liam scowled, instantly disliking the man who spoke so irreverently. “Had you heard your bell, I wouldn’t have frightened you,” Liam growled. “I need a room for the night.”
The man squinted at the clock hanging on the wall above the TV. His face wrinkled into a bigger scowl. “It’s late,” he said, stating the obvious.
“I know what time it is,” Liam snapped impatiently. “That’s why I need the room.”
The man brushed past Liam, and he followed the slug out to the front office. He was relieved to find Olivia still asleep, curled against the center console.
“That’ll be forty-nine dollars for the room,” the man said, pulling Liam’s attention back to him. “I just need your driver’s license and plate number.”
Liam had no intention of giving him either and leaving a paper trail for the legion to follow. That’s why he’d picked this shithole of a motel in the first place. He pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and put it on the counter. The man paused only a second before snatching the crisp bill off the counter and stuffing it in his pocket. He turned around and pulled a key off the hook. “Room seven, ground floor,” the man grumbled, handing Liam the key.
He curtly thanked the old man and turned abruptly, walking out of the office. Driving around the corner of the building, he parked in front of their room and carried Olivia’s bags inside. The motel room smelled of stale, musty air. Velvet textured paisley wallpaper, yellowed with age, hung curled and peeling from the corners of the walls. Liam crossed the worn avocado shag carpet and stepped into the bathroom, turning on the light. The ambient glow filled the main room.
He pulled back the covers on the bed before walking outside to the car and gently opening the passenger door. Olivia’s wedding dress came spilling out at him as he slid his hand behind her back and one under her legs, lifting her out of the car. She moaned softly and turned in his arms, wrapping her delicate arm around his neck.
Liam stiffened as a jolt of heat flooded his veins. The forbidden desire coiling in his gut was nothing short of pure torture. Forcing his body to move, he turned slowly, trying not to wake her, and purposefully placed one foot in front of the other, carrying her over the threshold of the skeezy motel room.
Pure and simple, it was nothing but sick irony that he’d be carrying Olivia, in a wedding dress no less, over any threshold. If he’d had his way, he’d be carrying her into a house, one of those beauties straight out of a Thomas Kinkade painting, as his wife, where they’d be starting a long and happy life together—not into some stank, low budget motel, with her wearing a wedding dress intended to be removed by another man. As his mind led him down the path he didn’t want to go, he thought perhaps right now, he could quite possibly be in Hell.
Liam gently laid Olivia on the bed, anxious to get his hands off her so he could clear his mind and regain some semblance of control again. She’d always been a heavy sleeper, so he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t woken up with all the movement. Reaching down, he brushed a lock of hair out of her face, slowly letting the black silky strands slide through his fingers. So incredibly soft…just as he remembered it.
His body physically ached to be near her. The temptation to climb in beside her and take her into his arms nearly dropped him to his knees. It felt like forever since he’d held her. But she wasn’t his to touch. She belonged to another, and just the thought of it hit his veins with a possessive fury that scorched his soul. A snarled oath tore from his lips as he forced himself to turn and walk away.
His mood grew foul, hovering on the verge of downright nasty, as he sat in the chair across the room, warring with himself to do the right thing and stay the hell away from her. It was times like this when he wished he could sleep. Something…anything…to buy him a few moments reprieve from this gnawing desire. Yeah…not gonna happen. So there he sat, alone with his thoughts, until the early glimpse of dawn finally began to break over the horizon.
***
Mitch sat at his kitchen table with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. The tails of his crisp white shirt hung loosely around his waist, wrinkled and worn. His sleeves were shoved carelessly past his elbows, and the ends of his tie hung draped around his neck. The guy looked like shit.
Tom had called Ashley a few hours ago. His friends were staying with him in shifts, afraid to leave him alone in case he decided to do something stupid like get behind the wheel after consuming half a bottle of JD. Anyone who knew Mitch knew that was a pretty good possibility, so Ashley had offered to pull night duty. Why not? She wasn’t going to get any sleep, anyway. She was concerned for Mitch. He wasn’t handling this well at all.
Nate looked over at her, but he didn’t speak—he didn’t have to. They held an unspoken co
nversation that amounted to a lot of “Holy shit, I think Mitch is gonna crack.” They each knew what the other was thinking, sharing a bond that had developed over years of friendship going all the way back to kindergarten.
There had been a time in the recent past when they’d tried to make it more—hoped it could be more. But since Balen had stepped into Ashley’s life three years ago, no matter how hard she’d tried, there was always a part of her heart that just wouldn’t let him go. Nate hadn’t been content to stay in a relationship where he was second choice—not that she blamed him—but the heart wants what the heart wants, and unfortunately for her, it wanted her guardian angel.
So when Nate suggested, after six months of trying to gut out a relationship, that they made better friends than lovers, she gave no objection to letting him go. The separation hadn’t broken her heart, only confirming what she’d known deep down all along—she loved Nate, but she wasn’t in love with him. Thankfully, their friendship had been strong enough to withstand the awkward break-up phase.
Mitch glanced at her as they stood in the doorway. “Has she called you?” he slurred.
“No,” Ashley replied, shaking her head. “No one’s heard from her since she called you. Not even her parents.”
Mitch jacked his hands through his hair, making it stand on end in little blond spikes. “I don’t know what to do. I just feel so damn helpless!” he yelled, slamming his fist down on the kitchen table. Ashley jumped, startled by his outburst. Nate stepped closer and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Kim and Roger spoke with the police, like you suggested,” Ashley said. “They were told that since she contacted you and said she was okay, that technically she isn’t missing, and they won’t help find her. They think she got cold feet.”
“That’s ridiculous!” he growled, grabbing his glass and taking another swig. “She didn’t get cold feet. Someone took her! I know it! The necklace I bought her was broken. Pearls were scattered all over the floor, for crissake! And she left her cell phone behind. She would never have left her phone behind if she’d intended to run.”
“He has a point,” Nate volunteered. “Maybe someone forced her to make the call. Can’t the phone company trace the call that came in or something?”
“No. I already checked. The number was blocked, and they have no registration information to track it.”
Ashley wasn’t as frightened as everyone else. She suspected she knew who Olivia was with, and even if she wasn’t with Liam, then as her guardian, he was still most certainly with her. He would keep her safe, wherever she was. “I know you’re worried, Mitch. But you have to believe she’ll be all right,” she encouraged, trying to alleviate his fears. “Her guardian angel is watching out for her.”
Mitch turned to look at her. With a slow, purposeful bend of his head, he shot her a glare that sent goose bumps prickling up her arms. “You don’t actually believe in that shit, do you?”
She stared back at him in shock, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. Surprise, then anger, spiked a rush of adrenaline flooding through her veins. She knew Balen, her guardian, was here. He was always close by. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could feel him. She wished he’d walk over to Mitch right now and knock some sense into that ignorant jackass. Maybe he’d believe in that! She was starting to feel less and less sorry for him with each passing minute. If Liam had taken Olivia, then maybe he’d done her a favor. Mitch was showing a side of himself Ashley had never seen before—and frankly, it was less than attractive.
“Yes, I actually do believe in this shit!” Ashley snapped indignantly. “And you should, too, if you know what’s good for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged, shoving his chair back to stand, towering over Ashley. Anger raged in his watery, drunken-glazed eyes. Clearly, he was looking for a scapegoat and he’d just found one.
***
A low, warning growl curled in the back of Balen’s throat as he stepped into the kitchen, tensing to knock Mitch on his ass if he took another step closer to Ashley. His energy surged, along with his temper, casting an iridescent glow around his non-corporeal form. Balen seriously doubted Olivia knew what she was getting herself into with this POS.
He’d been hounding Liam to go after her for months, warning his friend she was making a terrible mistake, but he stubbornly refused to intervene. He kept arguing that it was her choice, her free will to choose whomever she wanted. Balen disagreed. Truthfully, he’d been relieved when this all finally came to a head with Rowen’s legion, and not a moment too soon.
Liam’s absence from Olivia had changed him. His heartache had been so severe, one could physically feel his agony just standing beside him. It was uncomfortable and damn depressing if anyone asked him—which no one did. And then Olivia had met Mitch, and that unlocked a whole new level of hell for his best friend.
Right now, Ashley’s emotional grid was throwing off a lot of pissed off. For being a petite little thing, she sure did have a lot of moxie. Of course, knowing you had an ultra-protective six-foot-four-inch two-hundred-forty pound guardian angel at your back probably didn’t hurt. She took another step toward Mitch and got right up in his face. If he’d been corporeal, he’d have grabbed that female around the waist and carted her away before someone got hurt—i.e. Mitch, because if that bastard didn’t stand down in the next two seconds, Balen was going to take him down.
“It means that Olivia believes, and maybe you should start believing, too, because you’ve got some competition, buddy!”
Nice move, Ash. Out your best friend and taunt an already angry drunk. Sometimes he wondered if she didn’t pull this shit just to get him to come back. It wasn’t that easy, though. They had laws to abide by, rules to follow.
Damn, he wished Nate would grow a pair and bust Mitch one right in the mouth. The prick was a loose cannon, and Ashley had just lit his fuse.
“What do you know?” Mitch demanded, grabbing his glass and taking another huge gulp before slamming it back down on the table. She flinched, the first hint of her fear needling Balen’s veins.
“Dammit, Ashley!” Mitch yelled, hurtling the glass across the room. It shattered against the wall, the dark amber liquid streaking down the white paint. “I said, ‘What do you know?’”
That’s it! Balen headed for Mitch, intent on driving his elbow right into that bastard’s jaw. He was confident he could cross over and back fast enough he wouldn’t be seen. This guy was a drunken time bomb and he needed to be knocked the hell out.
“Hey, Mitch, calm down,” Nate said, stepping in front of Ashley and intercepting Balen.
One more second and Nate would have been too late.
“She doesn’t know anything, all right? We were all at the wedding together, and Olivia hasn’t called anyone but you. Just take it easy, man. We’ll get it all figured out.” He took another step closer and put his arm around Mitch’s neck like they were old friends, steering him away from Ashley and effectively saving the asshole from a royal beat-down.
“It’s getting late. Why don’t you go up to bed, and we’ll clean up down here, okay?”
Nodding his head, Mitch stumbled out of the kitchen with Nate at his side. As they entered the hall, he stopped abruptly and glanced back at Ashley. “I’m sorry, Ash,” Mitch murmured.
“Don’t worry about it,” she grumbled. Turning away, she knelt before the mess of broken glass and started piling the small pieces into the larger ones. When she stood up to carry it to the garbage, the pile began to slip. Instinctively, Ashley’s hand shot out to catch the falling glass, and a jagged piece sliced her palm before it landed on the floor, shattering into little pieces.
“Ouch! Dammit!” she cursed, grabbing a towel off the counter and wrapping it around her bloody hand. Ashley sighed, grabbing the broom and dust pan out of the closet, and bent down to sweep up the wet, broken mess.
Balen stood over her, watching as she cleaned the floor—hovering so close, if she move
d too fast she’d pass right through him. The temptation to take corporeal form was so strong he physically had to force himself to remain still. He wanted to see the cut on her hand, wondering how bad it was. Just one kiss and he could heal it. He missed her so much his heart literally ached for her. What he’d give to be able to touch her again, just once…
Chapter Four
Olivia tossed and turned on the hard mattress. The stiff bodice of her gown rustled loudly as she moved, yanking her from a fitful sleep. She opened her eyes to see the dark room lit with early rays of sunlight. For a moment, she let herself indulge in the possibility that yesterday had been nothing more than a dream. But then, that would mean Liam hadn’t really come back for her. The thought sent a jolt of alarm tearing through her and she bolted upright, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Liam?” she called out, searching the darkness, desperate to see him—desperate for the confirmation he was still with her and scared to death she’d discover he’d left her again. He didn’t answer, and panic climbed up her throat as she squinted to make out the shadows across the room. Her eyes fell on Liam sitting statue still in a chair and relief flooded through her so powerfully, it took all her self-restraint not to leap out of bed and throw herself into his arms. “What are you doing sitting over there?”
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see his foot tapping restlessly against the carpeted floor. Tension radiated from his large muscular body like heat waves. He looked terribly uncomfortable with all six-four, two-hundred-twenty-five pounds crammed into that small chair. “How can you possibly rest like that?” she asked, frowning.
The distance at which he sat from her served as a painful metaphor of the distance that now truly separated them. There had been a time when Liam wouldn’t have thought twice about climbing into bed with her, holding her safely in his arms while she slept through the night—her heart beating against his…
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