Gale Force (11 page)

‘‘We’ve got bomb robots now? Cool.’’

‘‘It’s on loan from Homeland Security,’’ Lewis said. ‘‘They’re not going to like it if I get it blown up, though. I’ll call you back.’’

Homeland Security was loaning us gear? Wow. When had we actually come up in the world like that? Apparently, while I’d been unconscious in a hospital bed for something or other, or on the run. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. Part of the reason the Wardens had existed for so long in secrecy had been the low profile. The more we ‘‘cooperated’’ with other governmental agencies, the more likely it was that we’d get attention, and any attention was bad.

I remembered the reporters, and shivered. They had a job to do, and although they’d grant me some sick time, they’d be back.

‘‘Let’s change the subject,’’ David said. ‘‘The wedding. Where do you want to have it? At the chapel?’’

There was only one chapel for us—Imara’s home, the Chapel of the Holy Cross. I nodded slowly. ‘‘But we’d have to have it in secret,’’ I said. ‘‘After hours. They don’t do official weddings there.’’

‘‘I could work it out,’’ he said. I was sure that was true, actually. ‘‘It won’t hold too many.’’

‘‘Small ceremony,’’ I said. ‘‘Big reception. It works.’’

He nodded, staring straight ahead into the rolling surf, the eternal sky. ‘‘Are you all right?’’

‘‘Me? Sure.’’ I dredged up a laugh. ‘‘Why wouldn’t I be? Just because some crazy is sending me antimatter through the mail . . .’’

‘‘We changed the subject,’’ he reminded me gently. ‘‘If you’re worried about the wedding, you can still change your mind.’’

I draped an elbow over my seat and curled around to face him, resting my chin on my forearm. ‘‘I really don’t think I can,’’ I said. ‘‘And I really don’t think I want to.’’ I felt a cold breath of . . . something. ‘‘Unless . . . you’re having doubts about us—’’

‘‘No,’’ David said immediately. ‘‘I’m just concerned for you. You seem . . . unreasonably upset. I just can’t understand how you can be so convinced and upset about something that has no evidence.’’

Well, that was rich. He thought
I
was crazy. ‘‘David,’’ I said, ‘‘we’re not going to convince each other on this stuff. Are we?’’

He shook his head ruefully.

‘‘Then let’s stop trying.’’ I reached out. He took my hand, and some of the fluttering in my stomach quieted. ‘‘So if we can have only twenty people at the ceremony, who are we picking?’’

He smiled. ‘‘You go first.’’

‘‘All right. One name at a time.’’ I took a deep breath. ‘‘Cherise.’’ Safe. He nodded.

‘‘Lewis,’’ he said, which surprised me, but I supposed it shouldn’t have. He and Lewis had known each other long before I ever set eyes on David.

‘‘Um—Paul.’’

‘‘Rahel.’’ He gave me a quick, apologetic smile. ‘‘I can hardly leave her out of the invitation. She’d only show up if we didn’t invite her.’’

She would, just to be a pain in the ass. Djinn. What can you do? ‘‘Fine,’’ I said. ‘‘How many is that?’’

‘‘Counting us? Six.’’ He studied me for a second, eyes going gentle again. ‘‘Seven with a minister. Do you want to invite your sister?’’

‘‘Oh hell no,’’ I said. ‘‘Psycho sister Sarah is
not
welcome. She’s caused me plenty of trouble without this. I’ll go with . . . Venna.’’

David’s eyebrows twitched, either in surprise or amusement, or maybe some of both. Venna was a Djinn, but she was on Ashan’s side of the fence; she’d done both of us favors, but as with most Djinn, I couldn’t peg her as good or bad, really. Still, she was always . . . interesting. ‘‘She might attend,’’ he said. ‘‘It might interest her. But she wouldn’t come alone.’’

‘‘You are
not
inviting Ashan.’’

That got an actual laugh. ‘‘It would be politically wise.’’

‘‘And personally
stupid
because if I see him again, I swear I’ll rip off whatever passes for his—’’

He kissed me. It was meant to be a shut-me-up kiss, quick and sweet, but it turned warmer, richer, and I melted against him like chocolate on a hot plate. ‘‘I’m asking Ashan,’’ he said when he let me up for breath. ‘‘And you’re going to play nice if he shows up. Which he won’t. But it will be wise to ask him.’’

I made a noise that brides-to-be probably shouldn’t make, according to Miss Manners. He kissed me again.

We had so much to talk about—flowers, cakes, catering, dresses, tuxedos. . . . We didn’t talk about any of it. Instead, David pressed his lips to the pulse at my neck and murmured, ‘‘I’m bored with planning the wedding. Let’s plan the honeymoon. Better yet, let’s rehearse.’’

I’d been recovering for weeks, and my libido had taken a serious beating along with my body, but when he said that, I felt a fast, hot flush of desire. Aside from some gentle play, he’d been careful with me, knowing I was fragile.

Now he sent waves of energy flowing into me, curing the lingering aches and exhaustion, and I caught my breath in true, deep pleasure.

‘‘Right here?’’ I asked. ‘‘In the car?’’

‘‘I think I said before, the seats do recline.’’ Being a Djinn, he didn’t even have to crook a finger to make it happen. My seat slipped back, nearly level, and I made a sound low in my throat as his warm hands moved over me, sliding the strap of my top down my arm, folding back fabric. . . .

‘‘Wait,’’ I said, and sat up again. ‘‘There’s a motel half a mile back.’’

He looked surprised, and a little disappointed. I kissed him again.

‘‘I’m not saying no,’’ I promised. ‘‘I’m saying . . . I want lots of time, and a bed. If it’s a rehearsal, let’s make it a full undress rehearsal.’’

‘‘Oh,’’ David murmured. ‘‘That’s all right, then.’’

Chapter Five

The rain hit while we were lying twined together, sweaty and completely satisfied, on the motel bed. It was a nice motel, nothing sleazy, and the rooms were actually quite lovely. Big ocean views. We’d drawn the curtains, though, for privacy. No matter how much fun it is, some things really aren’t meant to be shared with strangers on the beach.

I listened to the patter of drops on glass and rested my head against his bare chest. He had a heartbeat, and his lungs worked just like any man’s. In fact, he was all the way human in every way that I could sense, including his postcoital drowsiness. His fingers combed lazily through my hair, leaving it smooth and shining, the way it had been when he’d first seen me.

‘‘How’d we do?’’ I asked, and his hand left my hair to softly stroke my arm, skim my side, wrap possessively around me.

‘‘I think we need more practice,’’ he said. ‘‘I don’t think I quite had that last part right.’’

‘‘The Russian judge gave it a nine point five,’’ I said. ‘‘And you nailed the dismount.’’

I loved it when he laughed. Djinn didn’t laugh enough, and they had little enough to laugh about, in general. His happiness was contagious, like fever, and I basked in its warmth. We kissed, long and slow, and I heard the low vibration in the back of his throat. Still hungry. Still wanting.

I knew how he felt. The passion between us wasn’t fading; if anything, it was strengthening as time went on, as we learned each other and found new ways to please. I loved surprising him, loved the mixture of shock and wicked delight in his eyes.

When my cell phone rang, I flailed for it and switched off the ringer, but I couldn’t resist taking a quick glance at the lit-up display. Lewis, of course. And I had to answer. Otherwise, he’d do something stupid, such as send the cavalry to bust down the door and catch me doing something morally questionable.

David groaned, deep in his throat, and buried his face against my neck. ‘‘You have to get it,’’ he said. ‘‘Right?’’

‘‘Afraid so,’’ I said. ‘‘Put the porno movie on pause for a second.’’ I caught my breath, tried to pretend I was fully clothed and businesslike, and answered the phone. ‘‘Lewis?’’

‘‘Took you long enough,’’ he said. He sounded tense, which wasn’t good. Lewis was one of the most relaxed people I’d ever known, in general. ‘‘Okay, we’ve got the package in containment. Jo—there was also a card.’’

‘‘A
card
? Like, a greeting card?’’

‘‘You’re not going to like it,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s a congratulations card. On your wedding. It had a message inside.’’

I went short of breath, and it wasn’t for any of the reasons that it would have been a minute before. ‘‘What kind of message?’’

He ignored that question, which didn’t bode well. ‘‘Who knows you’re getting married?’’

‘‘I—not that many people. We haven’t officially—I don’t know. I didn’t think it was a state secret! My God, I was about to order
invitations
!’’

‘‘I think we’d better talk,’’ Lewis said. ‘‘All of us. Warden HQ in New York. There are some things you need to see.’’

‘‘Now?’’

‘‘Tomorrow. Let David drive if you’re taking the car.’’

I bit my lip. Not that I didn’t love being in the car with David, but even at the speeds he was likely to travel it would be at least a fifteen-hour trip. Then again, it kept us mobile, and Weather Wardens generally didn’t do too well in airplanes. We draw storms the way a bug zapper draws moths.

‘‘See you there,’’ I said, and hung up. I dropped the cell phone back on the nightstand and rolled back toward David. ‘‘Where were we?’’

His fingers slowly stroked the column of my throat, down the valley between my breasts, and across to circle the hard cap of my nipple. ‘‘That depends,’’ he said, low in his throat. ‘‘How much time do we have?’’

‘‘How fast can you drive?’’

He laughed. ‘‘You wouldn’t believe how fast I can drive if I’m properly motivated.’’

‘‘Any particular thing you find motivational?’’

He put his lips close to my ear. ‘‘Your mouth.’’ His tongue traced the folds of my ear, drawing shivers. ‘‘I love the way you use it.’’

‘‘I’m guessing you aren’t talking about pleasant travel conversation.’’

I couldn’t see his smile, but I felt its dark power. ‘‘Don’t want to give it a try?’’

‘‘Dude, there are
laws,
you know.’’

‘‘Laws against driving above the speed limit, too, but I don’t notice you objecting to breaking them.’’

‘‘You are a very bad’’—I caught my breath convulsively and pressed against his fingers, which had wandered lower—‘‘man. And we should get dressed and on the road.’’

‘‘In a while,’’ he said, watching me, and his hand began to move. My mind went white and smooth with pleasure. His eyes were lazy and still somehow fiercely intent. ‘‘Let me see if I can ease your mind first.’’

I decided not to protest, unless
don’t stop
counted.

Driving with a Djinn isn’t really like normal driving. For one thing, nobody really sees your car; they have an
awareness
of it, for traffic safety, but even the most vigilant of peace officers can look right at you breaking the speed limit (and nearly the sound barrier) and not feel moved to react.

The downside? No bathroom breaks. Djinn just don’t think of things like that. I know they eat, so they must have the other human-type functions at least when maintaining human form . . . but you’d never know it. They’re better masters of their bodies than we are.

After six hours on the road, I was squirming in the seat and ready to die for a bush by the side of the road, never mind a bathroom.

‘‘Comfort break,’’ I said to David. ‘‘Sorry. Nature calls.’’

He sent me a lazy, amused glance, entirely relaxed and at ease behind the wheel of my car. I’d learned not to look out the windows; the constant smear of color reminded me of science fiction movie concepts of travel past light speed. Instead, I’d asked for a laptop, which David had obligingly provided, and an Internet connection. Bingo, I was back to research.

Only this time, I was tracking down suspects instead of china patterns.

‘‘What are you doing?’’ David asked, leaning over. I nudged him back with one shoulder.

‘‘Drive.’’

‘‘I am.’’ He stayed where he was, eyes off the road.

‘‘You know that makes me crazy, right?’’

His lips threatened to smile. ‘‘Not the right kind of crazy. So?’’

I sighed. ‘‘I’m searching all my correspondence, trying to figure out how many people I’ve told about the wedding.’’

‘‘And?’’

‘‘Dozens.’’ I stared gloomily at the screen. ‘‘Not only that, I didn’t exactly think to make it eyes-only clearance. Those dozens told more dozens, who told their friends, who posted it in the Wardens chat room. . . .’’

‘‘So it’s a dead end.’’

Yeah, and we might be the ones dead at the end of it. Wasn’t sure I liked that symbolism.

I was on the verge of logging off the computer, but a word caught my eye on the Warden chat board. I frowned and scrolled back up, looking for it, and finally saw, in the message thread of people offering congratulations on the upcoming wedding, a single entry. You had to be registered for the Warden chat board, of course, and authenticated, but somehow, this particular entry had no name or IP address associated with it. What it said was, simply,
It’ll never happen.

I shivered. The Sentinels were at work.

‘‘Bathroom,’’ David announced, and I closed up the laptop and was unhooked before he’d screeched the Mustang to a stop in front of the gas pump of the BP station. I barely noticed the convenience store, except that as I frantically scanned the interior walls, the bored clerk took pity on me and pointed toward the rear of the store. Clearly, he knew the look.

I found the bathroom; it was unlocked and relatively clean, and all that mattered was the sweet, sweet relief. When I finished, I went to the sink and washed, studying my face in the mirror. I looked okay—a little thinner than usual, more angular, but not as haggard as I’d feared. Stress looked good on me; it always had. Lucky me. As a beauty treatment, though, it sucked.

Hmmm. Maybe some cold cream. And Ding Dongs.

I was gathering up sweet, snack-treat goodness and heading for the register when I felt . . . something. Not exactly trouble, but . . . something. It was subtle, but I’d definitely felt something shift, and not on a natural real-world level.