Adrian seemed unfazed by Rafe’s distrust. “We don’t have a lot of time. As soon as Criten realizes his men are out of commission, he’ll send more.”
Criten? “Wait—” Cara began.
Rafe nodded. “Agreed. I need to get Cara somewhere safe, where I can plan my next move.”
“Our next move,” Gray corrected.
“Hey, guys—” she started again.
“Look, I appreciate the assist here—”
“You need me, Montana. You still don’t know the whole story.”
Rafe folded his arms. “Care to enlighten?”
“We don’t have time now, but once we’ve recovered the stone, I will tell you everything I know. I swear it.” Gray laid his hand over his heart in an oddly old-world gesture.
Rafe considered him with narrowed eyes.
“Wait a minute,” Cara said, pushing between the two. She looked at Adrian. “Criten? Jain Criten, the president of Santutegi, is behind all this? And what stone?”
Adrian glanced at Rafe with a raised brow.
“I’ll explain later,” Rafe said. “But yes, apparently these clowns work for him. And Danny has some ancient stone that he wants.”
“But—”
“We don’t have time now.” Rafe turned to Gray. “About our next move.”
Cara shook her head and turned away as the two began planning. She’d get the whole story out of him as soon as they were in the car.
A hand gripped her ankle and yanked her off balance. She screamed as she started to fall, catching a glimpse of Evan’s vengeful expression as he lay on the ground, reaching out his other hand toward her as she tumbled closer. Then Rafe was there, his arms around her, kicking at Evan’s gripping hand and forcing his fingers to open.
Rafe dragged Cara out of his reach even as Gray leaped forward and dragged the man to his feet, pinning him against the car. Evan grinned at them over Adrian’s shoulder, the expression on his beaten face promising retribution.
Adrian spat words at him—in Evan’s language.
Evan jerked his gaze to Adrian’s, then glanced down at Gray’s chest and paled. “Leyala,” he whispered, dread and reverence in his tone.
Adrian released him with a jerk, sending him thudding back against the car. Evan mumbled something. Adrian shook his head. Evan’s eyes widened, and he spoke again, louder, his tone more pleading. Again, Adrian shook his head, then turned away. Evan sank to his knees in the sand, his expression one of hopeless despair.
“What did you say to him?” Rafe asked as he came closer.
“Told him his punishment was coming.” Adrian shrugged, the muscles roping his arms and chest rippling with the movement. Cara couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of the man—then gasped as her gaze fell on the tattoo over his heart.
“What’s that?” she whispered. She’d noticed the tattoo earlier when he’d tried to stop her from going to Rafe. The symbol of three triangles, connected by a circle with a curly line in the center directly over his heart, had struck her as an unusual design, but nothing more than that. Just a tattoo like any other.
Now it had somehow become raised from his skin, like a brand. And it … pulsed.
Adrian didn’t even glance down; he just looked at Rafe.
“What does leyala mean?” Rafe asked, glancing from the weird tattoo to Gray’s face.
“Loosely translated, it means ‘the loyal ones.’”
“Yeah, okay. What does it mean to him?”
“As I said, punishment.” Adrian held up a hand as Rafe opened his mouth to speak again. “Look, we have the advantage right now. You’re a Seer. Take Cara and find the stone. These two are Warriors—technically.” He cast a disgusted glance from Evan to Mestor. “That means they are mine. I will deal with them, then head back to Vegas to keep an eye on Criten and make sure he doesn’t send anyone else after you.” He pulled out his wallet and handed Rafe a business card. “My cell number is on that. Call me when you have the stone.”
“Warriors?” Cara said. “Do I even want to know?”
“Later.” Rafe took the card, tapping it against his hand. “You know, one thing’s been bugging me since you showed up, Gray.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. How’d you find us? You said you’re not a Seer.”
“No, I’m a Whisperer.” Gray grinned. “I just called the cops and convinced them to trace the GPS on Evan’s cell phone. Then I grabbed a chopper and a rental car to get here fast.”
“Nice,” Rafe said.
“I do what I can. Now get going. You have a place in mind to take her?”
“Yeah.” Rafe looked over at Evan, who knelt on the ground staring at Gray as if he were the devil himself. “You sure you got this? Two to one.”
“I’ll be fine. Take my car and get out of here. The keys are in it.”
“Right.” Rafe took Cara’s arm and turned her toward Gray’s black sedan.
“And call me when you’ve got the stone!” Gray shouted after them.
Rafe waved his hand in the air, then opened the passenger door for Cara before going around to the driver’s side. The keys were in the ignition as promised. As Rafe clicked his seat belt into place, Cara glanced out the window and saw Gray crouching down in front of Evan, placing his hands on either side of the man’s head.
Rafe turned the key, and the roar of the car’s engine nearly drowned out Evan’s bloodcurdling scream. Cara’s blood ran cold. Dear God, what had Adrian done? She looked at Rafe, but he gave no indication he’d heard anything unusual, except for the tightening of his mouth. He pulled onto the highway and executed a U-turn right in the middle of the road, not even glancing back to see what Adrian Gray was doing, and headed toward Flagstaff again.
Silence lingered between them as they sped down the highway, passing Mother’s and continuing onward. She had a million questions clamoring in her head, but it was only after they’d gone a good fifteen miles or so that she asked the two uppermost in her mind.
“So,” she said. “You’re going to explain all this, right? The stone, Criten, Adrian Gray, et cetera?”
“Yes, once we’re safe.” He sent her a reassuring smile, but she could see the tension in his hands gripping the wheel and the way he clenched his jaw. Something was definitely bugging him, something more than simple concern about bad guys.
She knew he wouldn’t tell her, not without a lot of coaxing, so she asked her second question. “So where are we going?”
He inhaled slowly. “Home.”
* * *
Home. Strange how even after five years away, he still thought of the Montana stronghold in Sedona as home.
Rafe could tell that Cara knew something was up, but after he’d told her their destination, she’d just nodded and settled into her seat for the drive. No other questions, just a comforting quiet that he needed right then.
Damn, she was a hell of a woman. He’d never met anyone like her.
When he was younger, he’d imagined he would marry someone like her, have kids, pass on the family legacy. Then came the incident where his actions had caused the death of one good man and almost killed Darius as well. The event had torn apart his family. It had become clear to all of them that he had no control when the Hunter manifested, and until he did—if he ever did—he was a danger to everyone. So he’d left.
Hell, they’d wanted him to leave.
But in the past few hours he’d learned a lot about his heritage—provided Adrian Gray wasn’t full of it, which was still a remote possibility. But the idea that he wasn’t quite alone anymore, that there were other descendents of Atlanteans out there, perhaps even other Hunters, filled him with a hope he’d thought long dead. He might be able to learn more about his abilities and how to command them. A personal quest, as it were. But it would take all his faith to let down his guard enough to work with others, even those with the same power. To get past the fear that he would, however inadvertently, hurt one of them.
He couldn’t help t
hinking about Cara. She’d come face-to-face with the Hunter and walked away unscathed. She’d not only handled his focus stone but actually used it to help him come out of burnout. Yet despite that—or maybe because of it—she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to be with him anymore, so it was no use fantasizing about a future with her. But finding other Atlanteans to learn more about himself and his abilities? He could do that—far away from those he loved.
And yeah, here in the quiet of approaching dusk, he could admit, if only to himself, that Cara fell into that category.
They’d get to Sedona just after sunset, and he didn’t know what kind of welcome he’d get when he showed up on the doorstep of the Montana residence. The family credo dictated they use their powers to help those in need and never for personal gain, so while he knew they wouldn’t turn Cara away, he wasn’t so certain about himself. That had always been a bone of contention, and he’d broken the cardinal rule when he’d run off to Vegas and become a bounty hunter, using the Hunter gift to make a living. The family would probably give them shelter, and he doubted they would bring up old family business in front of an outsider—but he also doubted they’d break out the fatted calf. Best thing to do would be to stay as short a time as possible—just regroup and get out.
But before he left, he would find out how much of the stuff Gray had told him was true, or if his parents had ever even heard of some of the things he’d said. There was still a chance he was being played, and the fact that he couldn’t read Adrian Gray left him without his usual defenses. He didn’t like it. How did normal people survive without knowing what others were thinking?
Cara had gotten really quiet, and one glance confirmed she’d dozed off. Good, she probably needed the sleep after the afternoon they’d had. He turned his attention back to the open road stretching before him, and started down the familiar route that would take them home.
* * *
Cara awoke to a keening melody that prickled along her skin, raising goose bumps along her arms and warming her heart. Through the foggy lethargy of sleep, she realized it was Rafe singing. She turned her head to look at him, his profile solid and familiar against the dramatic orange and pink of the sunset. They were going uphill, and towering trees—evergreens, it looked like—blocked more and more of the sky.
The road seemed to cling to the side of the mountain, winding upward. Rafe slowed as they came to a turn, then surprised her by taking a left up a hidden driveway. She glimpsed stone pillars as they headed even further up, blanketed on either side by evergreens. They curved again, and suddenly the road—driveway?—was blocked by a huge iron gate. The song dying on his lips, Rafe coasted to a stop in front of a speaker box, opened his window, and hit a button.
“Yes?” came a tinny voice after a moment.
“Rafe Montana.”
“One moment.” A click and then silence.
Rafe sighed and glanced over at her. “Oh, you’re awake.”
“Yup.” She sat up, rolling her head to stretch her stiff neck muscles. “So, this is the old homestead?”
“Yeah.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then looked at the speaker with obvious impatience.
“Think they’ll let you in?”
He barked a laugh. “Fifty-fifty shot.”
“Those aren’t bad odds.”
He shrugged, stared harder at the speaker box. Suddenly the gates began to roll open. She’d expected some sort of dramatic creaking, but the well-maintained machinery didn’t make any noise other than the hum of the motor that drove it. As soon as the opening was wide enough, Rafe drove through. They eased around another curve in the driveway. The trees fell back, opening to a stunning view of mesas and sunset—and the house.
The place was a mansion. The darkening sky stretched like a velvet cape overhead in the clearing where the house sat, the stars becoming visible as the sun sank farther beneath the horizon. They passed a four-car garage, and she got impressions of huge windows and elegant terraces as they pulled into a circular drive with a fountain in the middle of it. Rafe stopped the car in front of the main entrance and turned off the ignition.
He sat for a moment, staring at the closed door of the house.
Cara touched his arm. “You sure about this?”
He shrugged. “We have no choice. No way anyone is getting to you here.” He gave her a weak smile, then opened his door.
Cara climbed out on her side, smoothing her clothes and finger-combing strands that had escaped her ponytail. “This place looks like a vacation home for the royal family, and I look like a bum.”
“You look fine.” Rafe came around the car and took her hand. “Come on. We’ll take them on together.”
He’s just as nervous as I am. The realization calmed her, and she walked with him as he climbed the steps and pressed the doorbell. A hum of energy tingled along her fingers where he touched her, reminding her of the sexual heat still simmering between them. The energy of the Hunter still lingered, uniting them in a way she had not expected.
But chemistry had never been their problem. They had that in spades. Lies of omission, that had been the problem.
She didn’t know what to expect when the door opened—maybe a butler or maid, given the sheer luxury of the place—but she certainly hadn’t anticipated the huge, long-haired man who appeared. He filled the doorway, his massive shoulders nearly touching the doorframe on either side. His dark hair fell to his shoulders in an elegant, pricey cut designed to look casual, and his neatly trimmed mustache and goatee lent a devilish edge to his good looks. Leaning on a cane, he stared at Rafe.
Rafe stared back. “You’re walking.”
“You son of a bitch.” The big man punched Rafe right in the mouth. Rafe stumbled backward, nearly tumbling down the steps. The other guy tilted off balance, his cane clattering to the ground as he grabbed for the doorjamb. Cara leaped forward and shoved her shoulder beneath his arm, giving him support as he found his footing.
He looked down at her, surprise flickering across his face. He searched her eyes as if he could see into her very soul, then slowly smiled. She got the impression of warm approval, like she had passed some kind of test.
“You got it?” she asked. He nodded, and she bent down to pick up his cane and hand it to him.
Rafe came forward, swiping the blood from his mouth with his hand. “Cara, meet Darius—my brother.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Your brother?” Cara looked again at the bigger man. Darius topped Rafe by a couple of inches and had the broad chest and shoulders of a bodybuilder, compared to Rafe’s leaner, sleeker physique. But the resemblance was obvious in the stunning blue eyes and narrow-eyed glower Darius turned on his brother—an expression she had seen many times on Rafe’s face.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” Rafe said. He met his brother glare for glare. “I thought this was a place we could come to get help. Guess I was mistaken.”
“That’s rich,” Darius said, “coming from you.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Cara stepped between the two men. She looked at Rafe. “You said this was the safest place you knew, and with people trying to kill us, I’m thinking you might be right.” Before he could respond, she rounded on Darius, taking satisfaction in the momentary disconcertion that flashed across his face. “And you. This is how you treat the brother you haven’t seen in years? Don’t you know how hard it was for him to come here?”
“Cara—” Rafe protested.
“What do you mean, people are trying to kill you?” Darius asked.
Before she could answer, the sound of running feet reached them from inside the house. A blond woman with a killer tan and a swimmer’s athletic build pushed past Darius. “Rafe!” She cast a quick, apologetic smile at Cara and then launched herself at Rafe, wrapping her arms around him in a bear hug. “You’re late.”
“Tess.” Rafe hugged back, his expression surprised and pleased at the same time. “Guess you knew we were coming.”
“
Of course.” She kissed his cheek, then pulled away to turn to Cara. “Sorry, I’m rude. I’m Tessa, Rafe’s sister.”
Cara took the hand extended to her, arrested by the genuine friendliness of Tessa’s greeting—and by her stunning eyes. Their violet hue startled her; she’d never heard of anyone with eyes that color, except for Elizabeth Taylor or a heroine in a romance novel. The perception and knowledge there unsettled her, making her feel like Tessa could see all her innermost secrets.
And maybe she could.
“Nice to meet you,” Cara said finally.
“Come inside. Pay no attention to Mr. Crabby here.” Tessa brushed past Darius and entered the house, signaling they should follow.
Cara glanced at Darius, uncertain, but Rafe stepped forward, urging her on with a hand on the small of her back. “Go on, Cara. No one argues with Tessa.”
Darius stepped backward into the house, extending his arm in an exaggerated invitation to enter. Cara moved past him, Rafe right behind her.
“Get the door, Dar,” Tessa said, then led the way through the open foyer with its curving, iron-wrought staircase, past the living room with the big-screen plasma TV and leather couches and into the dining room. The huge table was set for a meal. “Sit down, you two. Dinner’s in an hour.”
“Six places,” Rafe said.
Tessa laughed. “Like you said, I knew you were coming. Come on, sit down.”
“Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?” Cara asked.
“Heavens, what am I thinking?” Tessa pointed down the hallway. “Right down here, first door on the left.”
“Thanks.” Cara set off down the hall, eager to get the grime of the afternoon off her skin.
Rafe watched her go, missing her as soon as she was out of sight. Her presence served as a buffer, holding family drama at bay. Tessa’s bubbly welcome aside, the greeting he’d gotten from Darius was more in line with what he’d expected. He’d done a lot of damage before he’d left, and he knew he’d hurt people, especially his parents. Waiting for them to appear, his confidence dripped away like an ice cube in the summer sun.
Prodigal Son Page 21
