Lost Without Them (2 page)

It was a gold locket, oval shaped, with a family crest and the name Keegan engraved on the front of it. Inside was a picture of a man and a woman, Sam assumed her grandparents or more likely great-grandparents, considering the age of the pictures and the way the people were dressed. On the back was engraved another word: Bortunata.

He’d tried to look it up on the Internet but had found nothing. Was it a name? A place? Sam didn’t have a clue. It was a mystery, and Sam hated mysteries. They drove him crazy until he found the answer. He had a feeling this answer wouldn’t be so easy to come by.

He looked down at the necklace he held in his hand. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, just like the woman who owned it. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen a woman around here quite like her. She had incredible, expressive brown eyes that he’d hardly been able to turn away from when she’d woken up earlier.

She’d been so frightened, so convinced that she had to get away but didn’t know why. The doctor had said it was probably remnants of the trauma she’d experienced.

Her lack of memory was another matter. That could be from the trauma of the attack or the hit on the head. They would never know for sure. She could get it back when she woke up, or it might never come back at all.

Sam ran his thumb over the crest on the locket and sighed. He wondered if he could scan this onto his computer and look it up. If he could find who the crest belonged to, maybe he could find who she was.

He doubted she was from around here. If she had been, he was sure he would’ve seen her before now. Hell, a man couldn’t miss her. She was a looker; that was for damn sure. Her manicured fingernails and toenails, her name-brand shoes and clothes all indicated she came from money. Or they at least gave that impression. When she’d spoken, she even had a slight hint of an English accent. It was possible she was a tourist, but regardless of who she was, there was still the question of what she had been doing way out on his ranch with no coat, no car, and no ID.

And what the hell were those animals that had attacked her?

The door to her room opened, and Cody walked in with the sheriff, Mike Sims. Mike had been a friend since school. About the same age as them, he often spent time at their ranch during his downtime. He liked helping break in the new horses.

“Is she still asleep?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “She stirs occasionally, but that’s about it.”

Mike nodded and sighed. “We found a truck about nine miles from your driveway. It had been driven into a tree. We think it might be hers.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Nine miles?”

Mike nodded.

“There’s more,” Cody said as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “The truck has no license plate, no registration, and no VIN number.”

Sam frowned. “Has the VIN number been sanded off?”

“Nope,” Cody said. “There’s just not one.”

Sam’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t make any sense. How can it not have one?”

Mike shrugged. “Got me. Looks like there might be more to this little woman than we might think. I’m beginning to wonder if the lack of memory is a scam.”

Sam shook his head. “No. You didn’t see her face, Mike. She really didn’t remember.”

“Maybe,” Mike said, although Sam could tell his friend wasn’t as sure as he was.

“What is she going to do if she wakes up and still doesn’t remember?” Cody asked.

Sam sighed as he looked back at the sleeping woman. “I don’t know, but I’ve been thinking about that.”

“And?” Cody prodded.

“We talked about hiring a housekeeper to help us out at the house. Maybe we should offer her the job. It would keep her close so we could maybe solve this mystery and give her somewhere to stay until her memory returns.”

Cody tilted his head. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Sam shrugged. “No, but what else are we going to do? Turn her out into the street?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s gorgeous as hell, right?” Cody asked, his lips twitching slightly.

Mike snickered, but Sam ignored him. “Yeah, okay. I’ll admit she’s gorgeous, but no, this isn’t about that. This is about doing the right thing.” He looked at his friend. “You got a problem with this?”

Mike snorted. “Why would I have a problem with it? If nothing else, it helps me out. I don’t have to try to find somewhere for her to go.”

“I guess it’s settled, then,” Cody said as his attention returned to the young woman lying in the hospital bed.

* * * *

Dastan sighed and waved his hand through the white mist that hung between him and Dmitry.

“Giving up already?” Dmitry asked.

Dastan stared across the kitchen island at his friend. Dmitry’s black hair hung around his shoulders, light gray eyes watching Dastan intently. Wolf eyes rimmed in black, they gave whoever he was staring at the sensation he could see clear through to their soul.

“I hate it when you look at me like that,” Dastan griped before turning to grab the beer on the counter behind him.

He could sense Dmitry’s grin, and Dastan growled softly to himself. They’d been together for well over a thousand years, partners in protecting the lead council members and their family. Or in this case, her family.

Margaret Van Marshe had been lead councilwoman for almost four hundred years. She wanted her daughter to finally take over for her, but her daughter had disappeared—and done it so well that even with their combined powers, they couldn’t break through her invisibility spell and locate her.

“I can’t believe she did something this stupid,” Dastan snarled before taking a sip of his beer. “I thought she was smarter than this.”

“I have a feeling little Keegan knows what she’s doing more so than most. Her mother doesn’t give her enough credit.”

Dastan turned to stare at Dmitry in surprise. “And here I thought you weren’t paying attention.”

Dmitry raised an eyebrow. “Paying attention to Keegan? You’re kidding, right? If I hadn’t known the little whip since she was the size of a watermelon, I would’ve already had her in my bed.”

Dastan fought a grin. He had no doubt about that. Dmitry was a player and used his Russian accent, intense gray-blue wolf eyes, and muscular body to his full advantage.

Born Persian, Dastan had centuries over Dmitry, but often Dmitry seemed the older. He definitely had more patience. Dastan felt a need to pace, to work the spying spell one more time. Dmitry, on the other hand, appeared relaxed as he walked to the counter and poured a cup of coffee.

Dmitry lifted his hand and brushed his shoulder-length black hair from his face. The gray was more prominent in Dmitry’s hair, which made him look older than he was; more distinguished. All shape-shifters had hair in human form that matched their fur in animal form. Some had more gray than others; some had white hair. Some, like Dastan, had dark brown with platinum strands. The color of their hair indicated which family the shape-shifter originated from.

“You’re too uptight, Dastan. You need to relax, and the spell will work better.”

“I know. I’m just worried about her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Dmitry said as he lifted his cup and blew across the hot liquid. “I guarantee it.”

Dastan frowned. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Dmitry shook his head as he settled back on the stool at the kitchen island inside their shared New York penthouse. Behind him, the full moon shone through the massive window, highlighting the gray in Dmitry’s hair.

“I don’t know anything. I just know Keegan. She was pretty pissed at her mother when she left, but she’s not stupid. When she calms down, she’ll remove the spell.”

“I think there’s more to this than just being angry,” Dastan replied.

He heard the tap of determined heels against the hardwood floor seconds before he saw her step into his kitchen. Dastan sighed just as he always did when she decided to grace them with her arrogant presence.

“Have you found her yet?”

Margaret Van Marshe was a force to be reckoned with. She was tall, her presence dominating and commanding—sometimes too commanding. She often reminded Dastan of a bull in a china shop. She said what she thought, without regard for how it might sting. She barked orders with the precision and bite of a Parisian officer, and God help them all if she became angry.

She was the complete opposite of her daughter, which was probably why they were constantly at odds.

Dastan set his beer on the counter. “We haven’t found her yet.”

“What’s taking so long?” she asked in exasperation. “She’s unprotected out there!”

“Your daughter may be without us, but I can assure you, she’s not unprotected,” Dmitry said.

Margaret gave a very unladylike snort. “Don’t tell me how strong my daughter is. I already know that. I taught her. But even a powerful witch can get into trouble.”

Both Dmitry and Dastan remained quiet and let Margaret grumble to herself softly as she paced around the kitchen island.

“I should’ve listened to her,” she mumbled.

Dastan raised an eyebrow. “Listened to her about what?”

Margaret stopped pacing and set one hand on the island, the other on her hip. “She said something about having a bad feeling. I told her it was just nonsense.”

“What was the bad feeling about?” Dmitry asked.

“Did she not talk to the two of you about this?” she asked in exasperation.

Both Dastan and Dmitry shook their heads.

Margaret sighed and adjusted the collar of her white shirt. “I was hoping she had.”

“You knew she had a bad feeling, and you didn’t question her about it?” Dastan asked.

She turned and narrowed her eyes at him angrily. “Do not lecture me, Dastan,” she warned. “I was busy.”

“Oh, forgive me,” he replied with just a hint of sarcasm, but it was enough to get his point across.

Margaret again sighed, and her shoulders sagged. “I know I work too much. I always have, but I do not need the two of you pushing my faults down my throat. I need you to find my daughter.”

“If Keegan was sensing something, maybe it’s possible Vincent has as well,” Dmitry offered.

Dastan shot Dmitry a look of warning. Dmitry knew what kind of anger that suggestion would bring, but Dastan also knew if anyone would know anything at all, it would be Vincent. And considering Margaret and Vincent’s history, it was doubtful she would want to ask him for anything.

Oh, how he would love to be a fly on the wall when that day came.

Margaret looked ready to explode. “I refuse to ask that arrogant, sarcastic scoundrel for help!”

“Why not?” Dmitry asked. “If you want to find your daughter, I would think you would be willing to ask anyone, even him.”

Margaret snarled and turned to the window. “I turned the man into a cat and left him that way for more than twenty years. What makes you think he would help me in any way?”

“Perhaps you should try something new and ask him nicely,” Dastan offered.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to face Dastan with a glare. “I let the two of you get away with way too much.”

Dmitry looked up at Dastan.
Let?
he mouthed, and Dastan grinned. Margaret liked to believe she had more control of them than she really did.

“Do you think there’s something to this feeling of hers?” she asked, her voice hesitant for the first time since arriving.

“Keegan’s pretty powerful,” Dmitry said. “More powerful than you give her credit for. I believe it’s possible she could have a little psychic ability.”

Margaret nodded solemnly.

“Margaret,” Dastan said, keeping his voice soft. “Why don’t you go talk to Vincent? See what you can find out. Dmitry and I will keep trying to break the spell.”

Margaret nodded again, then disappeared without another word.

Dmitry shook his head as he turned to face Dastan. “What do you want to bet that Vincent doesn’t make this easy for her?”

Dastan smiled. “I certainly hope he doesn’t.”

Keegan admired the moonlit stretch of land before her and immediately knew she was dreaming. She could always tell. Snow fell around her in soft drops, covering the ground and tree limbs in a blanket of white. It was so beautiful here—so peaceful. It felt like home.

Lifting her face to the night sky, she smiled. She loved to watch it snow. Despite the weather, the time of year, the air wasn’t all that cold. It was still and smelled of fresh air mingled with just a hint of musk.

Where had she smelled that scent before? She couldn’t remember. As she inhaled deeper, her smile widened. Wherever it came from, she didn’t care. She liked it and took in another deep breath.

Arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She instinctively knew who they belonged to and sank into the warmth of his chest as his arms snaked around her tighter. Soft lips touched the side of her neck, and she sighed, tilting her head to allow him better access.

“Sam,” she whispered.

He responded by humming softly as he parted his lips and sank his teeth gently into the sensitive spot behind her ear. She shivered over every inch of her body as he scraped those teeth along her flesh.

Cody appeared before her, and she reached out, touching the side of his cheek with her palm. His skin was soft, warm under her fingers. He moved slightly, following the tilt of hers as she moved it, giving Sam better access to the column of her throat. Cody always liked to watch as Sam seduced her. He liked the way her eyes drooped and her lips parted.

Another sigh escaped as Cody grabbed her hand, holding it still as he turned his head and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. He was so sweet, so gentle. So different from Sam.

Sam was wild, intense, wicked. Cody had a wicked side too, but it was more playful. Sam was… Sam sucked at the side of her neck, and her knees wobbled beneath her. Sam was hot.

They both meant so much to her in their own way. They both could have anything they wanted from her. Either could crook his finger, and she would eagerly submit. Both could rile her temper to explosive levels. But Cody was who could make her laugh, comfort her when she was down. Sam was who could make her feel safe, push her limits, and encourage her to push her own.