Girl from Jussara (12 page)

Instead of being upset at having been tossed from the couch, Remy appeared amused as he picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his dress slacks.

“Really, now, Alcaeus? Since when are you such a pussy?”

“She has a head injury!”

Remy barked out a laugh. “Right, all the more reason we should force our way in and fix it, didn’t you say?”

Alcaeus scowled and pulled at the back of his thick neck. “Fuck, there’s something about her smell, all right?” He winced and made a disgusted face. “It’s growing on me more and more. And it’s bringing out this weird … overwhelming … protective instinct.” He looked apologetic. Perhaps, embarrassed?

All trace of humor fell from Remy’s face. “You are not taking her.”

“We can’t just hand her over to Alex.”

“Can’t hand who over to Alex?” a melodious female voice entered the room and the conversation.

Alcaeus stepped from my side to greet the female, affording me an unobstructed view of what had to be the most unquestionably gorgeous woman I’d ever seen in the flesh.

Attired in a long, black strapless evening gown that clung to her exquisite figure, she was tall and possessed all the curves that I was still hoping I’d grow into one day. A long slit up the side of her dress provided a glimpse of strong, shapely legs. The word statuesque sprang to mind. Glancing from the striking woman to Alcaeus beside her, I felt like I’d stumbled upon a beautiful people’s convention.

“Alessandra,” Alcaeus introduced, turning from her to extend an arm in my direction, “meet our fetching new friend that Felix hopes to trade to Alex in exchange for his son’s life. This is Raul’s little sister, Milena.”

I was still digesting the revelation about Felix’s son when Alessandra’s large eyes widened in surprise as they settled on my face for the first time.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, her tan skin appearing to turn a shade ashen as a frown marred her otherwise smooth, delicate features. “How?” She swallowed and shook her head minutely. “She looks like him.” She stated it as if it were a virtual impossibility, gazing upon me with genuine puzzlement. “She looks like Raul.”

“So we’ve noticed,” Remy said as he rejoined me on the daybed.

I was taken aback, in part because I’d never thought Raul and I looked that much alike. And because her reaction to my presence was so different from what everyone else’s had been thus far. I’d expected her to react more or less as they all had and grumble something about Raul and his family not being welcome in Alex’s house.

I attempted to sit up and pull myself together into some semblance of dignity as she approached. I felt awkward and self-conscious enough as it was under the intense scrutiny of such a stunning, elegant woman. The pain in my ribs returned as I tried to lift myself upright, although it didn’t seem as bad as it had felt before. The aching in my head, however, felt far worse.

Remy was quick to assist me, positioning me so that my back leaned against his front, which helped to alleviate the pressure on my ribs that came with holding myself upright.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to my left ear. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He draped his arm loosely around my waist, steadying me against him.

I had no response. I was too confused and emotionally spent, my energy drained from the fight I’d just put forth against them.

Alessandra stalked closer to the daybed, her eyes searching my features with an odd mixture of sadness and confusion. And something else—a sort of wistfulness … or longing, perhaps? She had clearly known my brother, and I got the sense maybe he’d meant something to her.

“Well, shit, Lessa, she doesn’t look that much like him,” Alcaeus contested, breaking the awkward moment. “Fuck knows she smells better. Snap out of it and help her to the bathroom before the girl pisses herself.”

She plastered a strained smile on her face and smacked Alcaeus on the shoulder.

“Milena, this is Alessandra,” Remy introduced.

I smiled shyly and inclined my throbbing head in her direction. “Hi.”

“Hello, Milena,” she replied, then commented, “Wow, she does smell good.”

“You’ll need to carry her,” Remy said. “She’s got a few internal injuries we ah … haven’t gotten to yet.”

She squinted her eyes at him over my head, giving him a questioning look. Then her eyes widened as some sort of understanding seemed to dawn. “No?” she gasped in disbelief.

“Yes,” Remy confirmed.

“This is bad,” Alessandra assessed. “Very bad.”

“Fucking right it is,” Alcaeus concurred.

Heaven help me, I was lost. What was bad? This entire situation was
all bad
as far as I was concerned.

“Right, and speaking of which, how is Alex’s mood tonight?” Remy asked Alessandra. “We only chatted briefly this evening before I was called away to deal with Felix.”

“Not great. You know he hates these functions. He was wired and agitated all day today, and now he keeps complaining about a headache, of all outrageous things.”

I felt Remy stiffen behind me.

“Headache?” Alcaeus balked. “Alex?”

Alessandra waved an airy hand. “Who knows what’s up with him; he’s wound up is all.”

Alcaeus frowned. “I haven’t had a headache in over three centuries. He should have Kai check that out.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what was up with all the referencing of time in centuries. Was it some kind of quirky Brazilian thing?

Alessandra appeared to force another tentative smile as she came closer. Her eyes sought Remy’s again as she mumbled, “I just … I thought they weren’t blood related?”

“No,” Remy responded after a pause. “Neither did we.”

She nodded absently. “Why?” she exhaled the question to no one in particular.

“Well, probably ’cause Raul told us she was only his stepsister from Mateus’ brief marriage of convenience while he was stationed in the States,” Alcaeus pointed out impishly.

Stepsister? Raul had demoted me from a half-sibling to a step? He’d referred to our mother as a marriage of convenience for his dad? Mateus had never even been married to my mom!

“And if you’ll recall, he described her quite differently, too,” Alcaeus snarked.

Remy coughed. “Can’t say as I blame him for that one.”

“I can. He told me she was a redhead!” Alcaeus griped, as if it were somehow the ultimate personal affront and deception.

A redhead? Why would Raul make up such strange things?

“Painted her as a pasty, freckle-faced, bratty little cling-on teen stepsister he didn’t want anything to do with,” Alcaeus continued.

“Enough, Al,” Remy cautioned.

It was such a stupid thing for me to feel embarrassed or hurt over, as obviously Raul had had good reason to shield me from this unusual lot of criminals he’d somehow gotten himself mixed up with; yet it smarted nonetheless, as I’d always feared he held me in far less regard than he ever let on. I’d often felt like a cling-on kid sister he was trying to avoid. Certainly, I’d never expected him to regard me with the same level of adulation and hero worship I’d always had for him, but I’d hoped to hold a place of importance in his heart.

Remy squeezed my shoulder. “He thought he was protecting you.”

“Protecting her?” Alcaeus scorned. “He was dumb enough to attempt to hide a blood relative from Alex, yet careless enough to let a reprobate like Felix find out?”

“Alcaeus—” Remy’s tone was a warning.

“C’mon, we all know Raul’s as good as dead. They caught up with him in Fortaleza over a week ago. If he’s not dead by now, he’s begging for it.”

“Alcaeus!”

I ceased breathing. My stomach dropped out of me.

“And rather than protect the kin he’s left behind,” Alcaeus persisted, “he’s done the opposite by ensuring Alex will be so blind with rage when he learns once again that Raul deceived him, he’ll want to snap her neck on sight.”

“She doesn’t need to hear it,” Remy reproached.

“Hear it?” Alcaeus scoffed. “She’s going to be staring down the fucking barrel of it just as soon as Alex finds time to squeeze a quadruple homicide in between the seventh course and cigars and brandy.”

“Shut up, Al!”

“You need to let me take her, Remy. I’m the only one in this house who can.”

“Boys, boys, stop it,” Alessandra admonished. “Remy, he’s right. We can’t protect her from Alex. The most we can do is try to dissuade him from exacting his usual familial revenge where she’s concerned.”

“She’s no threat to him; she’s only a kid,” Remy reasoned. “We just have to convince him—”

“A kid whose head he can’t readily penetrate,” Alcaeus stressed. “You think he’ll want to make that mistake twice by letting her live?”

“Okay, okay,” Alessandra put her hands up in supplication. “Why don’t I just get her to the bathroom while you two fight this out like little pups?”

“Please do,” Alcaeus acceded to Alessandra, then fired back at Remy over my head as he strode over to us, “Alex can’t command me. I’m the only one with any chance of protecting her from him, and you know it.”

Before I realized what was happening, Alcaeus had smacked Remy’s arm off of me, hefted me from the couch and handed me bridal-style into Alessandra’s awaiting arms.

“I can walk!” I squealed. Tall and muscular as she may have been, I’d assumed Remy was teasing about Alessandra carrying me!

“I got you, don’t worry.” She giggled at my surely horrified, perplexed expression. “Raul never told you how strong us females were, eh?”

***

The walk to the loo proved quite surreal … and not simply because I was being carried by a virtual supermodel in an evening gown and heels. The dimly lit halls, which Alessandra explained constituted the basement area of Alex’s obviously palatial estate, were wide and tall enough for a truck to drive through.

We passed a large, semi-cylindrical room, or perhaps foyer area, with even higher ceilings that were adorned with intricate stone carvings. It was here that Felix and his cronies were still being held, and with no less than about three dozen imposing men and several women standing guard. It seemed not only grossly superfluous, but also horribly cruel, as all three were completely subdued, kneeling with heads bowed, their mouths gagged.

Despite what they had done to me, I couldn’t suppress the pity I felt. Felix in particular did not appear to be faring well. I was becoming more and more trepidatious about meeting the man of the house everyone so clearly feared and revered.

Based on everything I’d heard about him since arriving, my mind had sketched an image of an intimidating, surly old mob boss—essentially a Portuguese-speaking version of
The Godfather.
I couldn’t even contemplate what Alcaeus had said about the possibility of Raul being held captive somewhere by him. Imagining Raul in Felix’s condition and at the mercy of some pitiless tyrant was more than I could handle.

After I promised to be careful not to make any quick or careless movements that might jostle my head, which Remy and Alcaeus had convinced Alessandra was somehow critically wounded, Alessandra agreed to wait in the adjoining powder room while I relieved my bladder at long last.

While I was washing up at the sink, I caught my reflection in the mirror and would’ve fallen backwards had I not grabbed onto the counter’s edge.

My face looked perfect! Perfect, as in unmarked, bruised, or swollen. What’s more, although my coloring was a bit paler than normal, I was sure my skin looked healthier than it had even before I’d left for Brazil some seventeen hours ago. A quick scan of my knees revealed they’d healed as well.

It was impossible
.
Though I hadn’t seen the state of my face since my capture, I’d felt the damage it’d sustained from Felix and his thugs, and I’d definitely seen the bloody contusions on my knees. It was inconceivable I could’ve healed so quickly.

Alessandra rapped on the door and poked her head in. “You okay?” She entered upon seeing the dumbfounded expression I was giving myself in the mirror.

“My face,” I said stupidly, still staring at my own image. “It healed.”

Smiling, she came to stand next to me in the mirror. “It takes a little longer for humans, but you’re looking a lot better than you did even five minutes ago.”

A chill ran down my spine. I turned from my own reflection to look at her. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

She frowned and shook her head.

“Why does everyone keep referring to me as human?” I clarified. “As if … it’s something unusual … or different from what everyone else is?”

She tilted her head to the side, regarding me as if I’d just said something truly baffling.

“You mean … you don’t know what we are? Raul never told you?”

I cautiously shook my head in the negative, the look of astonishment on her face making me nervous as to whether I was revealing something I shouldn’t.

“Raul never told you about us?” she repeated.

I shook my head again. It was seriously starting to hurt. “No, he’s always been very …”—I searched for the right words on the wall behind Alessandra’s head—“private … about stuff … in general.”

Her brows knit together. “What are you saying, Milena?”

Damnit, I wasn’t sure what I was saying.
Blood was beginning to pound in my ears, making it harder to think. What was the right answer that would keep me alive the longest and prevent my brother from being in more trouble than he already was?

“He never told you any stories or legends about our people? About the Reinoso warlocks or the lobisomem? None of our family’s history?”

“Uh-uh,” I admitted hesitantly, trying to gauge her reaction.

She narrowed her eyes. “And Mateus? Your da—I mean … stepdad never discussed or even hinted at his purpose for being in America?”

“No.” I shrugged. “And Mateus was never my stepdad,” I corrected. “He was Raul’s absentee dad who one day showed up and insisted Raul should go with him back to Brazil.” I tried but failed to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

She appeared even more perplexed.

“It’s true,” I insisted. “I was nine. And I was devastated.”

She rubbed at her temple. It reminded me again of how much my own head ached. I needed to lie down. This conversation was making me dizzy.