Games of Zeus 02- Silent Echoes (18 page)

Their bodies pressed into the seats with the momentum of taking off into the sky.

Ian let himself relax and closed his eyes as the plane banked to the left. “You get anything done on the sample?”

“I only had it a few hours before I got the call. But, I got some friends working on it. That lab you guys got us access to is sa
weet
. This is totally going to jack up the research component for my finals. But anyway, they’ll call me if anything cool happens. I got a hottie from Horticultural Science to come in and test the soil samples, and a guy getting his PhD in forensics is going to look at the wood from that shed.”

“You sent them bones, soil, wood—everything?” Taylor’s surprise brought Ian out of his resting place.

“Yes. The goal is to prove you had nothing to do with it, right? So, we sent …
everything …
Lexi and Tripp got their hands on.”

“But … how—” Taylor started.

“Remember, they have their ways.” Ian tightened his fingers around her knee, massaging in the hopes she wouldn’t ask more. She knew too much for his own comfort—without having Tripp explain.

Michael chuckled behind his hand.

“What’s up with you?” Ian asked, glaring at Michael.

His brother’s eyes darted down and back up. “She’s ‘the client’, isn’t she?” He air quoted with his fingers.

“Yes.” Ian rubbed at Taylor’s thumb.
She’s got a scar down the back side, doesn’t she?
He traced over that area.
Yup.
A slight chill raced up him. The sense of familiarity grew stronger with each moment he spent with her, yet Ian couldn’t explain it, not even from what Sherrill suggested, Joyce had said or anything Taylor shared.

Did he believe they could be reincarnated?

“So, what’d you think about my brother here posting your bond?”

Ian closed his eyes and forced himself not to jerk back. He ventured a glance at Taylor and caught her wide eyes.

“I mean, all that dough and his condo in New York as collateral. You must be out of this world special.”

Taylor squeezed Ian’s hand. “I-I wasn’t sure on that.”

“Luckily for you, Taylor, Ian’s the most loyal and trustworthy person I know.” Michael crossed his index and middle fingers. “He and Tripp’ve been tight since before I was born. They don’t do anything without each other knowing about it. So, if he believes you enough to do that, seriously, you’re good in my book.” He held out his fist as if Taylor should bump it.

She shifted forward, did exactly that and relaxed against Ian again. “I like knowing you have such good friends and that I can be one of them.”

Michael’s face lit up with a deviance even Ian would have to wonder about. “Grams is gonna love her.”

I know.
“Do you know any genealogy people, Michael?” Ian opted to change the subject in favor of an idea and to get away from the mushiness.

Michael scratched the underside of his chin. “Not off the top of my head, but the school is full of nuts who study what
used
to be instead of what
can
be. Actually—” He wagged a finger. “There’s this blonde I see at the library a lot. She’s always got those family tree things scattered on tables around her. Why?”

“Let’s add them to the search team. I want to—” Ian held out his hand. As if Taylor understood, she rummaged in the bag she’d brought and removed the photo. “I want someone to look these people up.”

“Who are they?” Michael squinted at it.

Ian looked to Taylor. Her eyes held only concern.

“Holy shit! That’s you! You do one of those old-timey, western photo things?”

“No.”

“Then, who? That ain’t Grams, but I’d swear, hand on a Bible, that that’s you, but if that’s not Grams, that can’t be Gramps. What gives?”

“We’re not sure exactly,” Ian said.

“This pic has to be from sometime after eighteen-fifty, probably closer to nineteen-hundred, right? Since that’s when cameras had first come out?”

Ian went on to give Michael the details he’d learned from Sherrill. Taylor piped in with her own thoughts every once in a while.

“So, if you swear these people aren’t you, why am I looking them up?”

“We just want to know more about them.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. There’s something fishy goin’ on.” He pulled out his phone, snapped a shot of the photo and handed it back to Ian. “So, you need me to look someone up who’s deader than dirt, for a reason you won’t really say, and all I gotta do is ask a hot girl out to do it?”

Taylor’s head pressed against Ian’s arm, he presumed in an acknowledgement. “Yes,” he said.

Michael smiled. “Well, shit, yeah. I can do that.”

18

Greater Rochester International Airport welcomed the plane at almost eleven o’clock. Visiting hours at the hospital wouldn’t start until nine in the morning the next day, so Ian booked rooms at a hotel.

Ian held out Taylor’s key. “You’re on the right. I’m on the left.”

She took it, flipping it between her fingers. “Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to be alone. I’ll pay for my room if I can just—”

He stepped toward her, pulled her against him and crushed his lips against her. “God, I was hoping you’d say that.”

• • •

Taylor rubbed at another spot of grime between her fingers. Her arm ached; her ribs throbbed. She wanted, with a passion, to take a hot bath—assuming she wouldn’t die—and to sleep.

The king-sized bed bounced under her as she dropped to it. “You barely know me, Ian, yet you’ve been helping my … me … every step of the way, have your brother doing stuff that’s probably illegal and don’t seem to mind the neurotic nature of my life right now. Why? How is that possible?”

Ian’s keys fell with a clang to the only dresser. “If you were worth connecting myself to in a past life, you ought to be worth helping in my current one, right?”

“So, you do believe it.” Taylor ran her fingers under her nose, pinched the bridge and pressed at her eyelids. “I mean … it’s probably all just a coincidence. A … familiarity. Right? That’s the logical answer.”

Ian took her hands away from her face, kneeling in front of her in the process. “I’m not a man of many words, and hell no on sappy ones. But, I’m a damn good judge of character, and everything that has happened explains a lot about the last half a year. At Tripp’s wedding, I swore I’d met you before. The more I spend time with you, the more I—the more I want to.”

“Could it be so simple, though? I have a gift for … some reason. Those pictures … let’s say they were, somehow … us. These memories that keep popping up and these feelings. Is it supposed to be this way?” Taylor ran a finger down the side of Ian’s face. “But … what if this life … this fourth try … what if it’s us, and we’ve failed all the times before. What if we fail again?”

His chuckled warmed Taylor’s heart. “Now, that’s the spirit. The perfect pessimist.” He kissed her knuckle. “Let’s pretend for a moment that this is life four, and it’s us that’s the mission. Maybe the new motto is fourth try’s the charm.”

She brought her hands back.

He stiffened.

“No, no, sorry. I’m just really dirty,” she said. “You could be right. I just wish … I wish I knew more.”

“I’ve done a lot of research in the last week. Ish. I already knew about the design. We have the photos. We have stories. We have an infinite number of possibilities. Maybe instead of pushing it, we just see what happens in this life and roll with it. Be a little spontaneous. Like, for example, would you like to take a bath? This room has a Jacuzzi.”

Her eyes widened. “I would, but maybe a shower would be better. You know … to keep myself from drowning again.”

“I didn’t mean alone.” Ian stood.

Taylor followed, her heart lurching at the insinuation in his tone. Spontaneous? Despite her aggressiveness when it came to their kiss at Lexi and Tripp’s house, Taylor rarely jumped in with both feet unless she knew what would happen. When it came to men, in fact, she took her time like no other of her friends.

Ian continued walking backward, her hand in his. She made each step with him. Their gazes stayed locked on each other. In what Taylor had expected to be a standard bathroom, she found a whirlpool tub, just as Ian had said.

It would easily fit two.

Seeing really meant believing, and in that instance, all impropriety vanished. “Ian?” Taylor undid the top three buttons of her ruined silk blouse, attempting to mask the pain from moving her arm.

He started the waterfall. “Yeah?” With his glance back, she let the silk fall to the ground. His eyes took on those of a hungry tiger.

She reached behind to undo her bra and failed to hide the wince as tearing pain swept through her right arm. “Dammit.”

Ian stood at her toes while the river of water raged on in the circular tub. “Let me.” He moved around her, his fingers working against her spine until the cotton loosened and fell along the length of her arms. His hands slid around her side, rubbing against her skin and bringing the hairs there to a stand.

He ran a finger along the underside of her breast until his hands cupped her and pulled her against him.

“I so hope you’re not expecting to get in that tub alone.” Hot breath hit her ear.

“No. I wasn’t.”

His hands slid lower until his fingertips graced the edges of her jeans and made their way to the center. Button. Zipper. Undone. He pushed down until fabric no longer covered her hips.

She lifted her foot at the touch on her ankle. Repeated with the other.

He kicked the jeans to the side and stood in front of her again. “This is going to need some TLC.” His fingers rested against the gauze, peeling from the top in slow, deliberate actions. “Luckily, I had my dad as my coach for the healing of all things human, and the EMT handed me strict instructions to wash and rewrap it. I think now is as good a time as any. Don’t you?”

Water spurted as the jets kicked in. Ian stopped the flow, leaving bubbles to froth.

Taylor held out her arm. “Just … be gentle.”

He took hold of the top layer and unwrapped from her shoulder to her elbow. On the second layer, a line of red had etched a path of whatever had run along her arm.

“Eww,” Taylor said. “I deal with cuts and stuff all the time, but that is just gross. It looks like a snake.”

Ian tugged the layer closest to her skin.

Taylor cringed. “No, keep going.” The gauze pulled at her wound, yanking at hairs where the skin and blood had matted to it. “Ow. Shit. Keep going.”

Over. Under. Over. Under. Each unwind added to the torment until Ian unraveled the last of it, and her arm no longer throbbed just burned.

Heat ran through her at the press of his lips to the wound. She closed her eyes as he inched his way up, never touching the line that she knew would scar. Up, farther until he reached her shoulder, each kiss brought a mix of fire and cool. Of desire and worry. Pleasure and pain.

Ian continued up to her neck, adding the imprint of his lips. Each nerve ending woke under his caress. His hands found their home at her hips but roamed their way up and down as his tongue teased.

Water grumbled in the tub, and he maneuvered them to the edge, continuing the exploration of her body—of every inch.

Taylor wanted more. She reached low, and he pushed her hands away. “Hey—”

His lips silenced hers, though their smiles merged. “Not your turn right now.”

Fingertips danced along her spine, reached down and trailed back up. Instinct pushed her hips against his, their only separation the fabric still around his body. She closed her eyes, picturing the feel of his skin under hers as if they were one, as if they’d been together forever. Her imagination roamed, taking what her hands couldn’t reach and bringing the softness of his skin, the hardness of his muscles, the indentation in his thigh where he’d fallen off his bike and been scarred.

She pulled back with a jerk.

“You feel it, too?” he asked.

“Wha—what … exactly?”

“You have a freckle on the side of your hip.” His hand reached down, skimming over the side. “I didn’t see it. Yet, I know it’s there.” His lips started anew, descending from her breasts to her belly button. “And here, you have a scar from when you had your appendix out.”

She shivered under his touch.
How can he know?

Ian went lower until his fingertips ran along the inside of her thigh, lighting a fire in her core. “And here, you—” He stopped, rose again until their eyes met. “You had stitches from falling off a horse and landing on a rock.” His eyes glazed for a moment before he seemed to refocus.

She’d never fallen off a horse, but she did have a scar in just the place he’d noted.

Taylor didn’t understand, but she also didn’t care. Whether her current life or a previous one, she wanted him. She wrapped her good arm around Ian’s neck and pulled him in so their lips merged. With what little flexibility she had with her other arm, she yanked at the buttons on his shirt, slipped it off his shoulders, and with eyes closed, ran her hands along the smooth skin of chest.

The wind kicked up around them, the trees whispering as skin to skin, her entire body heated. The pond’s water lapped at the sides of the grass where they stood, he shirtless and she wishing she could be. If only her mama hadn’t tied her corset that morning.

“May I?” he asked.

She arched back as he kissed a line down her neck. “Please, kind sir,” she said, bemused by his formality. He’d always been that way, so serene and demure, following her lead.

Their lips played along each other’s as he undid the strings he’d learned how to retie to prevent anyone suspecting their trysts. With her breasts exposed to the night sky, he suckled them, massaging and cupping her as she liked so.

“’Tis your turn, my darling,” she said.

One leg and another slipped from his pants, and she reached for what she wanted most.

His groan came as approval. His hip thrust added to the torment against her own body. Another tug toward the water and he proceeded. She stepped in. He did the same. She lowered. He, too. One leading. One following. A ballet of desire, drawing each other down and into the water.