by Lynsay Sands
"Yeah," Jet said excitedly. "He's arranging to have the plane returned to my boss, Bob, and he's going to take care of the criminal charges too. He guaranteed there wouldn't be any. And," he added, positively beaming now, "he hired me."
"Hired you?" Abigail asked with bewilderment. "What for?"
"To be a pilot, what else?" he said on a laugh.
"Really?" she asked with surprise.
"Yeah, Lucian is one of the Argeneau Enterprises Argeneaus," Jet announced as if that should mean something to her. When it obviously didn't, he clucked his tongue and explained, "Every pilot on the planet knows the name and would kill to work for them. Hell, some guys send resumes monthly just in the hopes that there will be an opening."
"Why?" Abigail asked with curiosity.
"It's a cushy, cushy job, Abs," he said seriously. "The pay is killer, and the benefits top-notch."
"Oh," Abigail murmured, but then frowned with confusion. She'd never heard of Argeneau Enterprises. "So he owns some kind of airline?"
"No, no." Jet waved the suggestion away. "Argeneau Enterprises is the mother company of a bunch of businesses situated in Canada, the US, and Europe. They have some techno companies, financial businesses, a blood bank even. Mostly the planes are to fly executives and other VIP type people around." Expression serious, he said, "This is more than a cushy job, Abs. It's an awesome opportunity, and I owe it all to you."
"Me?" she squawked with surprise.
"Well, I never would have met them if not for you," he pointed out. "And Mr. Argeneau doesn't know me from Adam, so he must have hired me because of my connection to you."
"Right," Abigail murmured, wondering what the hell Lucian's game was. Tomasso had said they'd probably control Jet's mind, change his memories and send him back to his life. Yet Lucian had hired him instead? And not only that, but invited him to actually stay here? In the villa? With six vampires--or immortals as they preferred to be called--and who knew how many coolers of blood lying around? The one in the room she shared with Tomasso could not be the only one.
What was Lucian thinking? What if Jet saw something?
"Life's weird, huh?" Jet said suddenly.
Abigail glanced at him in question.
"Yesterday about this time my life was hell," he explained, shaking his head with bemusement. "I'd been fired, was under the threat of being thrown in jail when I returned to America, and was worried sick about you. Hell, my life was in the shitter," he said on a wry laugh, and then continued, "But now, less than twenty-four hours later, everything's coming up roses. I found you, you're safe, the criminal charges are going away and I got a sweet ass job that is every pilot's dream."
Abigail let her breath out on a little sigh. When he put it like that, things did seem good. She just hoped they continued to seem that way. Managing a smile, she slid her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder in a sort of arm hug thing and said sincerely, "I'm glad for you, Jet. I hope it works out."
"Yeah." Jet slid his arm from hers and wrapped it around her shoulder instead to hug her more properly against his side, then complained, "You lost way too much weight. There's hardly anything to hug."
Abigail straightened with a grimace. "Dengue will do that to you," she said wryly, despite knowing it was only part of the reason behind her weight loss.
"Yeah, but you look different too," Jet said with a frown, his eyes narrowing on hers.
Abigail blinked and then turned forward so he couldn't see her eyes. They used to be green, and still were, but with little flecks of silver in them. She was guessing that had something to do with the nanos since she'd noticed the same flecks in the eyes of the others.
"I think I'm kind of insulted that it took you so long to notice the weight loss last night," she said to distract him.
"I noticed right away," Jet protested and then made a face and admitted, "Well, not right away, but I did notice before I got the tiki torch. I just didn't want to hurt your feelings by pointing out that you looked sickly."
"Oh, piss off," Abigail muttered, knowing he was just being his usual PITA self. PITA meaning a Pain In The Ass.
Jet chuckled softly and took a sip of coffee, and then asked, "So? What about you?"
Abigail glanced at him in question. "What about me?"
"Well, I wasn't the only one bunking with someone last night," he said heavily. "And I'm betting that room you shared with Tomasso doesn't have twin beds. What's going on there? Do I need to pop him?"
"No, of course not," Abigail said flushing. She turned her face away and picked up her coffee. "He's . . . We're . . ."
"Hooking up?" Jet suggested when she fell silent.
Abigail clucked her tongue with irritation, and asked, "How do you know where I slept?"
"Because Justin gave me a tour of the place last night when Lucian brought me back and he showed me the guest bathroom near the entry, then the living/dining room and pointed to the door off of it and said--and I'm quoting here--" Jet added dryly, "'That's the door to the master bedroom, Tomasso and Abigail sleep there.'"
Abigail closed her eyes. The master bedroom and a powder room were the only rooms on the main floor besides the kitchen and the living/dining room combo. The rest of the bedrooms were on the second floor.
"So?" Jet asked, nudging her with his arm. "What gives? Are you two shacking up? Is it serious? You're using protection, right?"
Abigail stilled, the cup slipping from her fingers and dropping the two inches to the counter with a thump that sent coffee sloshing over the rim. Jet jumped up and ran around the island to grab paper towels.
"I'll take that as a no you aren't using protection," Jet said grimly as he returned and began to mop up her mess.
Abigail met his gaze, her eyes wide with dismay. She hadn't thought of it. Not once. She hadn't thought of protection at all. STDs weren't a concern now that she knew about the nanos, but what about babies? She and Tomasso had had sex . . . well, fortunately only twice. The rest of the times they'd been together they hadn't actually copulated. But it only took one time to get pregnant and Tomasso was so damn big and sexy and virile and . . .
"Oh damn," Abigail breathed.
"Okay, breathe," Jet muttered, finishing with her mess and throwing away the paper towel. He came around the island and rubbed her back, his gaze full of concern. "It's not the end of the world. It's probably okay. I mean you've been super sick, so it's not like you two could have been going at it like bunnies this last week, so you've messed around--what? Last night? So once?"
"Twice," she muttered, rubbing her forehead with agitation. "Last night and before I got sick."
"Seriously?" he asked with dismay. "What did you do? Wake up on the beach and jump him?"
"Oh, jeez," Abigail muttered, dropping her face into her hands.
"I'm not judging," Jet continued. "But it just doesn't seem like you to bang some guy you just met. Hell, you punched Jimmy Coldsten for trying to grope you on your second date."
"I was twelve years old," Abigail pointed out with exasperation. "And we hadn't even kissed or anything. He just reached out and started squeezing like it was a bike horn that was going to honk."
"Yeah." Jet shook his head with a wince at the memory. "I'm betting the Italian Stallion has smoother moves than that, huh?"
"His name is Tomasso," Abigail growled and stood up.
"Where are we going?" Jet asked, keeping step with her as she moved out of the kitchen and headed for the front door.
"I need some fresh air to clear my head," she muttered, and then frowned and added, "And something to eat. I'm hungry."
"Good thinking," Jet said, opening the front door for her. "I'm hungry too."
Abigail merely grunted, and led the way outside.
"Do you think we should call for a car?" Jet asked with concern after pulling the villa door closed. "You've been pretty sick. The walk might be a bit much for you."
"I'm fine," she said firmly. "I can manage the walk."
Je
t didn't comment, just fell into step with her as she started along the road.
Neither of them said anything at first. Abigail's mind was racing with the realization that she might that very moment be carrying Tomasso's child. The possibility was an alarming one. While Tomasso kept mentioning this life mate business, she still had no idea what it meant, and while immortals might do things differently, Abigail thought like a mortal, and this was only the start of their relationship. Way too soon to be bringing babies into the equation. Hell, call her old-fashioned, but she would have liked to be married before even having to worry about babies.
How the hell could she have had sex with Tomasso without protection? She! Who had always been all about protection before this?
The answer was simple enough. Abigail lost her head when Tomasso was around. All it took was a touch or a kiss and she melted like ice cream dropped on a hot sidewalk. Hell, even a look or a few words from him could make her wet. The man was a menace to her poor brain.
"It'll be all right, Abs," Jet said, rubbing one hand up and down her back reassuringly. "I'm sure you're not pregnant. But if you are, and Tom-boy refuses to step up, you've got me. I'll help. We'll deal with it together. Heck, I've always wanted to be uncle Jet and since I don't have any actual brothers or sisters, that means you have to produce my nieces and nephews for me."
Abigail smiled faintly and let her shoulders relax. She then slipped an arm around Jet's waist to hug him briefly with appreciation as she admitted, "I really missed you after you went off to join the navy."
"Yeah, trust me, I missed you too," he said wryly. "The navy was definite culture shock after spending my days running around with you."
Abigail chuckled and then wrinkled her nose as his beard prickled her forehead. Straightening, she eyed the short beard and mustache covering his handsome features and asked, "What's up with the facial hair? Going for a new look?"
"Oh." Jet rubbed his bewhiskered chin with a grimace and shook his head. "No. Can't wait to shave this off, really." Then glancing to her, he added, "I wasn't planning on the Caracas flight so didn't have my bag with me when we flew out of San Antonio. I figured at the time it would be fine. I'd buy some shorts, a swimsuit, and shaving kit once we hit the ground. But after you went missing I didn't want to waste the time on shopping, shaving and shit, so . . ." He shrugged, and then let his hand drop away from the new growth on his face and said, "I have to hit the store and buy a razor. I can't wait to get this scruff off my face."
"We can do it after breakfast," Abigail promised.
"Or we could do it first since they're on the way," he suggested, catching her hand and tugging her toward the buildings on their right. The mini jungle had only given way to the buildings just moments ago. The stores lined both sides of the laneway and were comprised of everything from expensive jewelry boutiques to a corner-store type affair with snacks, drinks, and travelers' essentials like mini sewing kits, shaving kits, and sunscreen. Leading her to the corner store, Jet opened the door saying, "That way we don't forget."
"If we must," Abigail muttered, stepping inside when he held the door. "But be quick. I'm so hungry even you're starting to look tasty."
Jet chuckled at the words and moved off to find himself a shaving kit. Abigail hung behind near the register, her gaze shifting curiously over the items available. She had picked up some sunscreen when someone tapped her shoulder. Turning, she glanced around, her eyes widening when she saw Mary behind her.
"Hey, hi," Abigail greeted the other woman with a smile. Then she held up the sunscreen and asked, "Do I need this now?"
"It can't hurt," Mary said wryly. "But apparently we do better just to stay out of direct sunlight. The more sun you get the more damage your skin takes."
"Right," Abigail murmured and decided she'd buy the sunscreen. Turning her full attention to Mary then, she smiled and said, "I thought you guys were still sleeping when we left."
"Oh, is Tomasso with you?" Mary asked, glancing around.
"No. He was still sleeping. Jet and I came down alone." She hesitated, considering confiding her concerns about pregnancy to Mary, but then let it go and simply said, "We were going to grab some breakfast, but Jet wanted to buy a shaving kit first."
Mary smiled. "Dante said Lucian offered him a job and invited him to stay at the villa. I'll have to remember to congratulate him."
"Yeah, he's pretty pumped," Abigail murmured.
"But you're worried?" Mary suggested.
"A little I guess," Abigail admitted, and then scowled and said, "I don't know Lucian very well, but he seems . . ."
"Bossy? Arrogant? A hard-ass?" Mary suggested and Abigail gave a laugh.
"Yes, yes and yes," she said, her lips twisting.
"You were an only child raised by just your mother, right?" Mary asked.
Abigail raised her eyebrows. "Yeah. Are you reading my mind or just psychic?"
"I can't read minds yet," Mary said with amusement, and then said gently, "But Tomasso talked about you nonstop through your turn. He told me that about you, and I was just thinking that maybe, having been raised without a male role model, you find Lucian's authoritarianism hard to handle."
"Maybe," Abigail allowed, and then smiled wryly and said, "I don't like it when Tomasso gets all bossy either. Fortunately, he doesn't do that much. Or hasn't so far."
Mary nodded. "Well, if it helps, I'm usually a pretty good judge of character and I think Lucian tries to do what's right for the people he sees as in his care. And I suspect you and Jet have joined those ranks along with the rest of us."
"Mary?"
They both turned to see Dante approaching. He had eyes only for the petite blonde beside Abigail and was nearly to them before he noticed she was there too.
"Abigail." He smiled in greeting and glanced around what he could see of the store as he slipped an arm around Mary. "Where is Tomasso?"
"Still sleeping when I left," she said.
When his eyebrows rose at that, Mary added, "Abigail and Jet walked down by themselves. Jet needed a shaving kit, and then they're going for breakfast too. We should go together."
Dante kissed the top of her head. "Sounds good."
Abigail nodded, and then stopped when she realized she hadn't thought to leave a note telling Tomasso where she'd gone. Of course she'd been a little upset at the time, still, she should have thought . . . Good Lord, he was going to wake up covered in blood to find her gone, she thought with dismay.
"What is it?" Mary asked.
"She did not leave a note," Dante said, apparently reading her mind.
"Oh." Mary frowned. "He'll worry when he wakes up to find her gone."
"Yes, and I have not replaced my cell phone yet," Dante murmured, and then shrugged and said, "I will have to go back."
"Oh," Mary said with disappointment, and Abigail was thinking the disappointment was because he was going to leave, but Dante's next words cleared up that matter.
"You do not have to wait on us. I know you are hungry," Dante said, pressing a kiss to Mary's cheek. "Go to the restaurant and start. We will be along shortly." He turned to start away, and then paused to glance back and add, "Make sure you get a table big enough for all of us."
Dante waited for Mary and Abigail to nod, before turning away again.
He'd barely slipped out of the store when Jet appeared beside Abigail, as excited as a puppy.
"Abs! Look at these. They're just like the sunglasses you had in high school."
"Oh, man," Abigail said with a laugh, taking the neon-pink sunglasses he was holding out. "They are," she agreed, "but it was grade seven, not high school."
"Whatever," Jet said with a grin. "Put them on. I bought them for you."
Abigail laughed, but slid the glasses on and raised her eyebrows up and down. "What do you think? Am I stylin'?"
"They look--Oh, hey, Mary, right?" Jet interrupted himself to say as he noticed the blonde. Glancing around, he asked, "Where's . . ."
"Dante," M
ary supplied gently when he hesitated.
"Yeah. Dante. Sorry," Jet apologized sincerely. "Last night was a bit surreal what with finding Abs and all and then meeting everyone."
"I understand," Mary said with a smile and then added, "I hear congratulations are in order. Lucian hired you?"
"Yeah." He grinned. "I'm pretty chuffed. Can't wait to start."
"Well, you're gonna have to, 'cause I'm hungry and want to go get something to eat," Abigail said a bit impatiently. "Did you get what you needed?"
"Bought and paid for," he assured her, holding up a small plastic bag. "We can go hunt up some grub now."
"Good. Mary's coming with us," Abigail announced and then answered his earlier question, saying, "Dante was with her but went back to let the others know where we are and bring them along to join us for breakfast. But we can go over now and at least get our orders started."
"Awesome," Jet said, placing a hand on each of their backs and urging them toward the door.
"You won't have to order," Mary commented as they slipped out of the store. "Breakfast here is buffet style. Just grab a plate and go."
"Oh," Abigail murmured, a little disappointed.
"No, it's a good buffet," Mary assured her. "We came down yesterday and the day before and I swear they have a twelve-foot table full of just pastries alone. There's another just for bacon and sausages and stuff, and an egg station, and--"
"A twelve-foot table of bacon and sausage?" Jet asked with interest.
Mary nodded. "There were a good six or eight varieties of sausage too."
"Oh my gawd, I love this place," Jet groaned. "I'm going to fill four plates with sausage alone."
Both women chuckled, but Abigail said, "I might do that myself. I'm absolutely starving this morning."
"Abigail?" Mary said suddenly, and when she glanced her way, Mary made a slight grimace and asked, "Have you had your . . . medicine this morning?"
Noting where Mary's gaze was focused, Abigail glanced down and saw that she was rubbing her tummy, unconsciously trying to massage away the cramps that were eating away at her stomach. The sight immediately brought an image to mind of Tomasso doing the same thing. She knew now it was because he'd needed blood.
Biting her lip, Abigail glanced back to Mary and shook her head. "Not this morning. But I had four bags last night," she added quickly, and then recalling the blood all over her and Tomasso and the bed this morning, Abigail grimaced and muttered, "Or three and a half."
