at his
twin. “Oh,” said Col, catching on, “He needs a place to rest,
that’s all. I’ll never get him home in this condition.”
Hope made the decision. They had rescued her
and Dov was suffering for it. An injured man was different from a
single man. “Can he make it to my house?”
*****
Col burst through the gym door into the
kitchen of the Guardian House. Grace, burdened with a huge bowl of
mashed potatoes, scowled at his filthy clothes.
“We’ve been waiting dinner for an hour for
you guys. I’m not doing this anymore.” She looked behind him.
“Where’s Dov?”
“Busy.” He knew it was rude, but it wasn’t
his secret to tell. “Where’s Nico?”
Grace started to speak, but saw the look on
Col’s face and changed her words. “In the parlor. Pacing.”
“Thanks.”
But whether it was for the information or the
two rolls he grabbed from the basket on the island, Grace wasn’t
sure. Something was wrong. Nico, the epitome of cool, calm and
collected, had been pacing the floor and watching the clock for the
past two hours. Now comes Col, torn and filthy, without Dov and
without explanation. She hurried to the dining room to tell
Canaan.
They were headed to the parlor, followed by
Nardo, when they heard Nico roar.
“YOU LEFT HIM IN HER BED?”
They plastered themselves against the wall as
Nico barreled into the hallway, then followed him through to the
kitchen with Col following behind saying, “No. No. It isn’t like
that!”
When she saw where Nico was headed, Grace
called out, “You can’t go out now. It’s almost dawn.”
Nico turned and snarled, his fangs showing
long and sharp, “I’ll make it. Dov may not.” And then he was
gone.
The group turned as one to stare at Col who
took a step back and raised his hands.
“What have you two done now?” Canaan asked
with a threat in his voice that would be hard to ignore.
“I can’t tell. We promised Nico.” Col held
his ground.
“Oh, you’ll tell,” said Canaan, advancing
until he was a foot from Col’s chest, “And you’ll tell us now.”
*****
Nico pushed the Harley to the limits of
safety as rode through the city to Hope’s little house. The sky was
lightening with the faint rose of dawn as he put his shoulder to
the front door. The jamb snapped with a satisfying crack as the
lock gave and the door burst open. He charged up the stairs to the
bedroom where he found Dov sitting comfortably against the
headboard, pillows fluffed at his back. He was bare-chested and
strips of torn sheeting wrapped his torso and padded his shoulder.
A cup of tea in a china cup sat on the nightstand.
Dov grinned. “Hey, Nico.” The gin faded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where is she?” Nico snarled.
“Downstairs making me something to eat. She
loves me. She called me a gentleman.”
Nico’s jaws clenched and he took a step
toward the bed, but a choked sound from the door had him turning.
Hope stood in the doorway, a kitchen knife raised and ready to
stab. She began to shake, so badly that the hand with the knife,
still raised, began to bang against the door frame. Everything on
the dresser crashed to the floor.
“I-I th-thought they came back,” she
stuttered. I-I thought they’d hurt Dov.”
Her face paled to a ghostly white, the small
band of freckles over her nose standing out in sharp contrast. Her
breath came in short, shallow pants. Her green eyes glittered with
shock.
“It’s all right, Hope. I’ll take the knife,”
Nico said softly. He held out his hand.
“No,” she whispered, “Don’t t-touch me.” She
turned and fled down the stairs.
“Stay here,” Nico ordered Dov and followed.
He found her sitting in the same chair he’d sat her in the first
night they met. She still held the knife.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, staring
straight ahead.
“Nothing,” Nico whispered.
She continued to stare across the room. “Oh
yes, there is and my father always knew it. He told me I was only
safe among
twin. “Oh,” said Col, catching on, “He needs a place to rest,
that’s all. I’ll never get him home in this condition.”
Hope made the decision. They had rescued her
and Dov was suffering for it. An injured man was different from a
single man. “Can he make it to my house?”
*****
Col burst through the gym door into the
kitchen of the Guardian House. Grace, burdened with a huge bowl of
mashed potatoes, scowled at his filthy clothes.
“We’ve been waiting dinner for an hour for
you guys. I’m not doing this anymore.” She looked behind him.
“Where’s Dov?”
“Busy.” He knew it was rude, but it wasn’t
his secret to tell. “Where’s Nico?”
Grace started to speak, but saw the look on
Col’s face and changed her words. “In the parlor. Pacing.”
“Thanks.”
But whether it was for the information or the
two rolls he grabbed from the basket on the island, Grace wasn’t
sure. Something was wrong. Nico, the epitome of cool, calm and
collected, had been pacing the floor and watching the clock for the
past two hours. Now comes Col, torn and filthy, without Dov and
without explanation. She hurried to the dining room to tell
Canaan.
They were headed to the parlor, followed by
Nardo, when they heard Nico roar.
“YOU LEFT HIM IN HER BED?”
They plastered themselves against the wall as
Nico barreled into the hallway, then followed him through to the
kitchen with Col following behind saying, “No. No. It isn’t like
that!”
When she saw where Nico was headed, Grace
called out, “You can’t go out now. It’s almost dawn.”
Nico turned and snarled, his fangs showing
long and sharp, “I’ll make it. Dov may not.” And then he was
gone.
The group turned as one to stare at Col who
took a step back and raised his hands.
“What have you two done now?” Canaan asked
with a threat in his voice that would be hard to ignore.
“I can’t tell. We promised Nico.” Col held
his ground.
“Oh, you’ll tell,” said Canaan, advancing
until he was a foot from Col’s chest, “And you’ll tell us now.”
*****
Nico pushed the Harley to the limits of
safety as rode through the city to Hope’s little house. The sky was
lightening with the faint rose of dawn as he put his shoulder to
the front door. The jamb snapped with a satisfying crack as the
lock gave and the door burst open. He charged up the stairs to the
bedroom where he found Dov sitting comfortably against the
headboard, pillows fluffed at his back. He was bare-chested and
strips of torn sheeting wrapped his torso and padded his shoulder.
A cup of tea in a china cup sat on the nightstand.
Dov grinned. “Hey, Nico.” The gin faded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where is she?” Nico snarled.
“Downstairs making me something to eat. She
loves me. She called me a gentleman.”
Nico’s jaws clenched and he took a step
toward the bed, but a choked sound from the door had him turning.
Hope stood in the doorway, a kitchen knife raised and ready to
stab. She began to shake, so badly that the hand with the knife,
still raised, began to bang against the door frame. Everything on
the dresser crashed to the floor.
“I-I th-thought they came back,” she
stuttered. I-I thought they’d hurt Dov.”
Her face paled to a ghostly white, the small
band of freckles over her nose standing out in sharp contrast. Her
breath came in short, shallow pants. Her green eyes glittered with
shock.
“It’s all right, Hope. I’ll take the knife,”
Nico said softly. He held out his hand.
“No,” she whispered, “Don’t t-touch me.” She
turned and fled down the stairs.
“Stay here,” Nico ordered Dov and followed.
He found her sitting in the same chair he’d sat her in the first
night they met. She still held the knife.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, staring
straight ahead.
“Nothing,” Nico whispered.
She continued to stare across the room. “Oh
yes, there is and my father always knew it. He told me I was only
safe among
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