Prodigal Son (27 page)

But before he left, he would find out how much of the stuff Gray had told him was true, or if his parents had ever even heard of some of the things he’d said. There was still a chance he was being played, and the fact that he couldn’t read Adrian Gray left him without his usual defenses. He didn’t like it. How did normal people survive without knowing what others were thinking?

Cara had gotten really quiet, and one glance confirmed she’d dozed off. Good, she probably needed the sleep after the afternoon they’d had. He turned his attention back to the open road stretching before him, and started down the familiar route that would take them home.

*   *   *

Cara awoke to a keening melody that prickled along her skin, raising goose bumps along her arms and warming her heart. Through the foggy lethargy of sleep, she realized it was Rafe singing. She turned her head to look at him, his profile solid and familiar against the dramatic orange and pink of the sunset. They were going uphill, and towering trees—evergreens, it looked like—blocked more and more of the sky.

The road seemed to cling to the side of the mountain, winding upward. Rafe slowed as they came to a turn, then surprised her by taking a left up a hidden driveway. She glimpsed stone pillars as they headed even further up, blanketed on either side by evergreens. They curved again, and suddenly the road—driveway?—was blocked by a huge iron gate. The song dying on his lips, Rafe coasted to a stop in front of a speaker box, opened his window, and hit a button.

“Yes?” came a tinny voice after a moment.

“Rafe Montana.”

“One moment.” A click and then silence.

Rafe sighed and glanced over at her. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Yup.” She sat up, rolling her head to stretch her stiff neck muscles. “So, this is the old homestead?”

“Yeah.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then looked at the speaker with obvious impatience.

“Think they’ll let you in?”

He barked a laugh. “Fifty-fifty shot.”

“Those aren’t bad odds.”

He shrugged, stared harder at the speaker box. Suddenly the gates began to roll open. She’d expected some sort of dramatic creaking, but the well-maintained machinery didn’t make any noise other than the hum of the motor that drove it. As soon as the opening was wide enough, Rafe drove through. They eased around another curve in the driveway. The trees fell back, opening to a stunning view of mesas and sunset—and the house.

The place was a mansion. The darkening sky stretched like a velvet cape overhead in the clearing where the house sat, the stars becoming visible as the sun sank farther beneath the horizon. They passed a four-car garage, and she got impressions of huge windows and elegant terraces as they pulled into a circular drive with a fountain in the middle of it. Rafe stopped the car in front of the main entrance and turned off the ignition.

He sat for a moment, staring at the closed door of the house.

Cara touched his arm. “You sure about this?”

He shrugged. “We have no choice. No way anyone is getting to you here.” He gave her a weak smile, then opened his door.

Cara climbed out on her side, smoothing her clothes and finger-combing strands that had escaped her ponytail. “This place looks like a vacation home for the royal family, and I look like a bum.”

“You look fine.” Rafe came around the car and took her hand. “Come on. We’ll take them on together.”

He’s just as nervous as I am
. The realization calmed her, and she walked with him as he climbed the steps and pressed the doorbell. A hum of energy tingled along her fingers where he touched her, reminding her of the sexual heat still simmering between them. The energy of the Hunter still lingered, uniting them in a way she had not expected.

But chemistry had never been their problem. They had that in spades. Lies of omission,
that
had been the problem.

She didn’t know what to expect when the door opened—maybe a butler or maid, given the sheer luxury of the place—but she certainly hadn’t anticipated the huge, long-haired man who appeared. He filled the doorway, his massive shoulders nearly touching the doorframe on either side. His dark hair fell to his shoulders in an elegant, pricey cut designed to look casual, and his neatly trimmed mustache and goatee lent a devilish edge to his good looks. Leaning on a cane, he stared at Rafe.

Rafe stared back. “You’re walking.”

“You son of a bitch.” The big man punched Rafe right in the mouth. Rafe stumbled backward, nearly tumbling down the steps. The other guy tilted off balance, his cane clattering to the ground as he grabbed for the doorjamb. Cara leaped forward and shoved her shoulder beneath his arm, giving him support as he found his footing.

He looked down at her, surprise flickering across his face. He searched her eyes as if he could see into her very soul, then slowly smiled. She got the impression of warm approval, like she had passed some kind of test.

“You got it?” she asked. He nodded, and she bent down to pick up his cane and hand it to him.

Rafe came forward, swiping the blood from his mouth with his hand. “Cara, meet Darius—my brother.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Your brother?” Cara looked again at the bigger man. Darius topped Rafe by a couple of inches and had the broad chest and shoulders of a bodybuilder, compared to Rafe’s leaner, sleeker physique. But the resemblance was obvious in the stunning blue eyes and narrow-eyed glower Darius turned on his brother—an expression she had seen many times on Rafe’s face.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Rafe said. He met his brother glare for glare. “I thought this was a place we could come to get help. Guess I was mistaken.”

“That’s rich,” Darius said, “coming from you.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Cara stepped between the two men. She looked at Rafe. “You said this was the safest place you knew, and with people trying to kill us, I’m thinking you might be right.” Before he could respond, she rounded on Darius, taking satisfaction in the momentary disconcertion that flashed across his face. “And you. This is how you treat the brother you haven’t seen in years? Don’t you know how hard it was for him to come here?”

“Cara—” Rafe protested.

“What do you mean, people are trying to kill you?” Darius asked.

Before she could answer, the sound of running feet reached them from inside the house. A blond woman with a killer tan and a swimmer’s athletic build pushed past Darius. “Rafe!” She cast a quick, apologetic smile at Cara and then launched herself at Rafe, wrapping her arms around him in a bear hug. “You’re late.”

“Tess.” Rafe hugged back, his expression surprised and pleased at the same time. “Guess you knew we were coming.”

“Of course.” She kissed his cheek, then pulled away to turn to Cara. “Sorry, I’m rude. I’m Tessa, Rafe’s sister.”

Cara took the hand extended to her, arrested by the genuine friendliness of Tessa’s greeting—and by her stunning eyes. Their violet hue startled her; she’d never heard of anyone with eyes that color, except for Elizabeth Taylor or a heroine in a romance novel. The perception and knowledge there unsettled her, making her feel like Tessa could see all her innermost secrets.

And maybe she could.

“Nice to meet you,” Cara said finally.

“Come inside. Pay no attention to Mr. Crabby here.” Tessa brushed past Darius and entered the house, signaling they should follow.

Cara glanced at Darius, uncertain, but Rafe stepped forward, urging her on with a hand on the small of her back. “Go on, Cara. No one argues with Tessa.”

Darius stepped backward into the house, extending his arm in an exaggerated invitation to enter. Cara moved past him, Rafe right behind her.

“Get the door, Dar,” Tessa said, then led the way through the open foyer with its curving, iron-wrought staircase, past the living room with the big-screen plasma TV and leather couches and into the dining room. The huge table was set for a meal. “Sit down, you two. Dinner’s in an hour.”

“Six places,” Rafe said.

Tessa laughed. “Like you said, I knew you were coming. Come on, sit down.”

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?” Cara asked.

“Heavens, what am I thinking?” Tessa pointed down the hallway. “Right down here, first door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Cara set off down the hall, eager to get the grime of the afternoon off her skin.

Rafe watched her go, missing her as soon as she was out of sight. Her presence served as a buffer, holding family drama at bay. Tessa’s bubbly welcome aside, the greeting he’d gotten from Darius was more in line with what he’d expected. He’d done a lot of damage before he’d left, and he knew he’d hurt people, especially his parents. Waiting for them to appear, his confidence dripped away like an ice cube in the summer sun.

He just hoped their dedication to the mission trumped their anger at their son.

“I like her,” Tessa said, drawing his attention back to her. She pulled out a chair and sat, gesturing for him to do the same. “You two have been through a lot today.”

“How much did you see?” Rafe asked, sitting down. He didn’t dare touch the snowy linens on the table with his dirty hands.

“A lot of it was murky. I saw an explosion.” Tessa’s expression grew distant as if she were looking inside herself. “I saw Cara in danger. I knew you were coming because you were in her thoughts. She thought of home and family and safety. She trusts you.”

“An explosion?” Darius said from behind him. “That sounds like you.”

Rafe turned his head to see his brother standing—
standing!
—in the doorway. “You going to sit down before you fall down?”

Dar’s lips tightened, indicating a direct hit, but Rafe felt no triumph. Just the sight of his brother on his own two feet, cane notwithstanding, squeezed his heart. The last time he’d seen Darius, big brother had been in a hospital, with a prognosis of permanent paralysis for the rest of his life.

Leave it to Dar to flip off the doctors by managing to walk again when they’d said he never would.

“You two never change.” Tessa shook her head.

“Where’s Mama and Dad?” Rafe asked, ignoring Darius as his brother claimed a chair at the head of the table.

“In the
tenplu
. You arrived in the middle of the sunset ritual, so they stayed behind to channel the energy back into the earth properly while I met you at the door.” She rolled her eyes at Darius. “I was trying to head off El Cranko over there.”

“You didn’t participate?” Rafe asked, a little shocked. Darius fervently embraced their beliefs and had always been eager to participate in the rituals since before Rafe left.

“I was told my energy was disruptive,” Darius said with a curl of his lip.

“Strange how that started as soon as I told you Rafe was coming home,” Tessa said.

“I’m touched, Dar.” Rafe put a hand over his heart.

“Screw you.”

Tessa gave a sigh and sat back in her chair just as the sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs. “Mom and Dad are coming.”

A few moments later Maria Montana walked into the dining room, then hesitated just inside the doorway. His father appeared behind her, a big, broad-shouldered man with the black hair and copper-toned skin of his Native American and Hispanic ancestors. John Montana placed a supporting hand on Rafe’s mother’s waist and stared at Rafe with unreadable dark brown eyes. Rafe knew that look; he’d seen it many times as a kid when he’d pulled some stunt. It usually promised some uncomfortable man-to-man discussion and a realigning of Rafe’s priorities.

He’d seen it again on the night he’d left for good, mixed with the overwhelming grief of disappointment.

Rafe stood, trying to ignore the elephant in the room. Cara was what mattered, and he knew that no matter what their feelings about him, his family would do the right thing by her. “Hello, Mama.”

She approached him slowly. “Rafael. What brings you to my home?”

My home, not just home. The lob hit him squarely in the heart, squeezing like a python. But what had he expected?

“We need help.”

She tilted her head to the side, her coffee-colored hair flowing with the movement. “We?”

“Rafe has a woman with him,” Tessa said.

“She’s in danger,” Rafe added.

“So you brought her here, to us.” His mother folded her arms and studied him with narrowed eyes. “I thought you no longer wanted anything to do with our ways, our mission.”

“That’s not true, not exactly.”

“Then explain it—exactly.” His father came to stand behind his mother, protectiveness radiating off him in waves, from his don’t-screw-with-me glare to his stiff posture. “How is it that what we do was not good enough for you five years ago, but now suddenly you show up on our doorstep, asking for our help?”

“I needed someplace safe. And Atlantis is a part of this.” Rafe lifted his chin and met his father’s gaze head on. Thanks to Adrian Gray’s explanation, he now knew why he’d always been able to read his old man but not the rest of his family. His father was human; the others had Atlantean blood. And Dad’s emotions were coming through loud and clear. Disappointment. Anger. And … hope?

Answering hope bloomed in his heart. Maybe this would work out after all.

“Oh, so now it becomes clear,” his mother said. “Atlantis. Suddenly you need us, and we’re supposed to forget the way you just left, with no word to anyone. No calls, no e-mails. Nothing. But we’re supposed to help you now.”

He glanced at his mother, at the fury in blue eyes so like his own, and some of his optimism faded. “Not me. Help Cara. Or is your anger at me more important than the mission?”

“Don’t you speak of the mission!” his mother hissed. She surged forward, but his father’s hands on her shoulders halted her. “You turned your back on us, just ran away at a time when we needed you most. When Darius—” She choked to a stop, her eyes gleaming with tears as she took a deep, shaky breath. “You had the promise to be great, and you threw it away.”

“I wasn’t great,” Rafe said. “I was young and reckless and nearly got Dar killed.”

“So you left. Just like that.” His mom snapped her fingers. “Can you imagine what it is like to be a mother and to not know the fate of your child?”