Protector (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 5) (9 page)

But when he flung open the door and switched on the light, he saw nothing except the McAllister witch herself, huddled into a corner of the daybed frame, arms clutched around her as she rocked back and forth and let out a series of despairing cries that sounded like a litter of kittens being run over by a truck.

“Caitlin!” he said sharply, hoping the sound of his voice calling her name would be enough to snap her out of whatever state she was in.

No response, only that terrible rocking motion as her eyes seemed to stare at something only she could see.

He had no experience with someone being in a trance, or whatever was currently possessing her. However, he also knew that he couldn’t let her remain in this state. She was obviously terrified.

Since they were clearly alone, he dropped the shield and went to her, grasping her by the arms. “Caitlin! Caitlin, please — you’re here. You’re safe.”

Those last words seemed to penetrate when merely saying her name hadn’t. The wild look began to leave her eyes, and then she blinked and looked around the room before returning her gaze to him. She drew in a shuddering breath and burst into tears.

Oh, hell. Dealing with crying women had never been his strong suit. But because she was so obviously in pain, he let go of her arms and pulled her close to him, holding her so she’d know she wasn’t alone, that there was someone here to protect her. At the same time, he was doing everything in his power not to focus on the way her breasts were pushed up against him, separated from the bare skin of his chest by only a thin tank top. That loose-fitting peasant blouse she’d been wearing earlier had concealed some of the shape of her body, but now he could tell how rounded and full those breasts actually were.

Despite his best efforts to tell his body this was absolutely the wrong time, he could feel himself begin to stiffen. Great. It was a lot easier to hide that sort of thing in a pair of jeans than a pair of boxer-briefs.

Don’t…just don’t,
he told himself, and his erection subsided a little. He could only imagine Caitlin’s reaction if she noticed that he’d managed to give himself a boner when he was trying to comfort her.

“What was it?” he asked. “A vision?”

She nodded and pulled away from him slightly. Her eyes and nose were red, but he found he didn’t care too much. She still looked so damn beautiful.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a good one.”

That remark earned him a rusty chuckle. After wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, she said, “I saw Danica.”

“Was she — ” He didn’t complete the sentence, but he figured Caitlin would know what he was driving at. Surely nothing besides seeing her friend’s death would have made her act like that.

“No,” she whispered. A shudder passed through her, and she looked away from him, at the wooden blinds that concealed the window. “She was with
him
.”

“Matías?”

Another nod. She drew in a breath, then expelled it. Her body was still shaking, and he forced himself to keep his attention fixed on her face. “They were…they were in bed. You know.”

Yes, he did know, although it had been a while. But he could understand why Caitlin would be so upset, seeing her friend having sex with the man who had kidnapped her. “Was she being forced?” That would explain the screams, especially if Caitlin had experienced the scene with the sort of immediacy that sometimes came with visions.

“No.” The word was hardly more than a whisper. She cleared her throat, then went on, “I mean, I think he was still controlling her. She certainly wasn’t trying to fight back. She looked like she was enjoying it. She — ” The syllable seemed to choke her, and Alex saw her visibly swallow. “He had her share a joint with him. Danica doesn’t do drugs. Ever. She hardly even drinks that much. That one margarita she had at the restaurant would’ve been it for her.”

It definitely did sound as if Danica was still under Matías’ influence, although Alex wasn’t sure whether the warlock had cast an actual spell, or whether this was his gift — the ability to make those around him bend to his will. If so, that was an even more frightening prospect. No one in the de la Paz clan had that sort of talent, and although there were dark rumors of such things existing once upon a time, they hadn’t been around for generations. Until now, it seemed.

“I’m sorry, Caitlin,” Alex said. He hesitated, wondering how much he should press her. Still, at least she’d had a vision. That meant her own particular talent was attempting to assert itself. “Did you see anything else?”

She shot him a black look. “What, you don’t think that was enough?”

“No,” he said calmly. “What I meant was, did you see anything else of their surroundings, anything that might help us track down where they are?”

“Oh.” She seemed to deflate then, and shook her head. “I’m pretty sure it was the same apartment, but it was mostly dark. There was…some kind of candlelight.” A frown as she appeared to rack her patchy memory of the scene. “I think there were some of those saints’ candles on a dresser across the room. A queen-size bed, and a nightstand. Curtains at the window, I think, not blinds. The room wasn’t very big.”

“Well, that’s something,” he said. “Did it feel more like an apartment or house, or a motel room or something?”

Her eyes shut, lashes dark russet against her pale cheeks. “I don’t think it was a motel. It felt more like an apartment, although I can’t say why.” Then she blinked. “The door was open. There was light coming down the hallway, so unless it was a suite somewhere, it must’ve been an apartment or a house. And you’d think a hotel suite would have better furniture.”

Alex fought back a smile at that comment. It was delivered in a wry tone that made him think she was beginning to recover from the nightmarish vision she’d just seen. “You’re probably right. That narrows it down a bit.”

“A bit,” she repeated. “So how many rundown apartments and houses are there in Tucson?”

“A good number.”
A lot,
he thought.
More than we could search in the time Danica and Roslyn probably have left.
But he didn’t bother to say that out loud. He had a good idea Caitlin knew exactly how hopeless the situation was.

She didn’t respond, only toyed with the sheet covering her lap. Then she seemed to focus on him —
really
focus on him. Her eyes widened, and she said, “Um…did you forget your pajamas or something?”

Thank God he didn’t have the kind of skin that flushed easily. Holding her gaze…mostly so she couldn’t look down…he replied, “I don’t even own pajamas. You were screaming bloody murder, so I ran to help you.”

“Oh.” Her voice sounded very small. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. That’s why you’re here — so I can help keep you safe.”

“I’m still sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s all right.” She did seem calmer now, so he pushed himself away from her and off the bed, glad that his body had decided to behave itself once their conversation got started. That would have been even more awkward than standing in front of her wearing only his underwear. “But if you’re okay now, I’ll go back to bed.”

“Don’t!” she exclaimed, then looked away from him, as if she’d surprised herself with that outburst. “I mean…I’m not sure I want to be by myself.”

He couldn’t really blame her for that. That vision had sounded pretty awful. And the worst part was that she didn’t have much control over when those images invaded her mind. He wouldn’t want to be alone, either, if their situations had been reversed.

“Then come stay in my room,” he offered, and her eyes widened again.

“Sleep with you?”

“Yes,” he said patiently, then added, “The operative word being ‘sleep.’ I have a king-size bed. You’ll hardly notice I’m there. But at least you won’t be by yourself if you have another one of those visions.”

A long, long pause. She stared up at him, clearly conflicted. He supposed he should be glad that she was looking at his face, though, and not the rest of him. Or at least he didn’t think she was.

Then, finally, “Okay.” She pushed aside the covers and got up, giving him a better look at the way the tank top she wore clung to her breasts, the yoga pants that showed off the lines of her long legs and rounded ass.

Damn. He could feel himself start to stir again, and turned away from her, praying she hadn’t noticed. “This way.”

She followed him without comment back to his room. Since it was clear enough from the way the bedclothes were rumpled which side he slept on, she climbed under the covers on the right side of the bed, while he went to his usual spot and got in.

It did feel strange to have her there. He’d bought this house after he broke up with his last girlfriend, and so he hadn’t had anyone in bed with him here. True, Caitlin was staying way, way over to the one side, leaving quite a space between them. Even so….

He said calmly, “Good night, Caitlin.”

“Good night, Alex.” She sounded far more composed now, although there was a tension in her voice that indicated she wasn’t quite as relaxed as she would have liked him to think. Well, he couldn’t blame her for that. They’d just met this afternoon, and now she was here in his bed….

Sleeping,
he told himself.
Only sleeping.
At the moment, he was just glad he’d bought a king-size bed when he moved to this house. That put some nice, safe real estate between him and the body he’d been trying hard not to ogle a few minutes earlier.

He reached over and turned off the light. Darkness immediately surrounded them, save for the faint reflected glow of the nightlight in the
en suite
bathroom. Caitlin was lying so still that he could almost convince himself she wasn’t there at all.

But he knew better.

C
aitlin opened
her eyes and blinked up at the ceiling fan above her head. It was off, the air against her face cool enough that a fan wasn’t needed. For a second, she couldn’t figure out where she was. The condo she’d rented with Danica and Roslyn?

Then she felt the bed shift slightly, and she looked over to her right, saw Alex Trujillo’s dark head on the pillow next to her. Well, okay, not
right
next to her; the bed was large, and he was on his side, facing away from her. She could see the smooth golden-brown skin of his shoulders and back, underlaid with an impressive amount of muscle.

It all came back to her — the warlocks, the kidnapping. How she’d ended up here, in Alex’s house. In his bed.

Nothing happened,
she told herself. It was true. Nothing
had
happened. That didn’t make the current situation any less awkward.

“Good morning,” she said, since she could tell he was awake.

He turned toward her, propping himself up on his elbow. The fine lines of his jaw were now covered with dark stubble, and his hair was sticking out every which way, and he looked freaking gorgeous. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Fine,” she managed.

“No more visions?”

She shook her head, hoping she looked as adorably rumpled as he did, and guessing she probably didn’t. Oh, well. “Nothing.”

“That has to be a relief.” His expression was sympathetic. “At least you were able to get some rest.”

Yes, she had, although it had taken her what felt like forever to fall asleep, knowing that Alex was in bed with her, that all she had to do was reach out and…what? Pull him to her? That was insane. But once she’d heard his breaths deepen as he slept, she’d allowed herself to relax, to drift off, until eventually slumber had claimed her as well. It hadn’t been easy, however.

“You want some coffee?” he asked, sitting up.

It was hard not to stare at his exposed chest, even though she’d gotten an eyeful of it the night before. Then again, it was a lot brighter this morning, even though all the blinds in the bedroom were still shut. “I don’t really drink coffee,” she confessed. “Do you have any tea?”

He shook his head, but brightened a little as something appeared to occur to him. “I have a jug of iced tea from Trader Joe’s in the fridge. Will that work?”

It would have to. She’d rather start off the day with a hot drink, but better some kind of caffeine than none at all. “Sure.”

After pushing back the covers, he got up and promptly disappeared through a door in the sitting area off the bathroom. Apparently, that led to some sort of walk-in closet, because he came back out a minute later in a pair of faded jeans and a University of Arizona T-shirt. Much better. At least now his face would be the only thing distracting her.

“Is that where you went?” she asked, sliding out of bed as well. The clothes she’d slept in covered everything, more or less, but they also didn’t hide much. And crossing her arms over her chest would be way too obvious. Tone casual, she added, “U of A?”

“Yeah,” he replied, and, thank the Goddess, his eyes were on her face and didn’t seem inclined to move any lower.

“Did you like it?”

He shrugged. “It was okay. I graduated, which is the important thing, I guess.”

His attitude puzzled her. She’d been overjoyed at the prospect of finishing up college at Northern Pines, since it meant she could get a real degree from a real four-year university, something that had been denied the McAllister clan until the recent truce with the Wilcoxes. And here Alex had grown up in the town that had the best school in the state, and was acting as if it was no big deal.

“What did you major in?”

“Double major. Marketing and communications.” Something in his expression told her he really didn’t want to talk about it. He picked up the iPhone that had been sitting on his nightstand, then asked, “You ready for that tea?”

“Sure,” she said, taking the hint. For whatever reason, the subject of college seemed a touchy one for him. Maybe she’d get to know him well enough that she could ask what that was all about.

Or maybe not. She was only here to help find Danica and Roslyn, right?

Frowning, she followed Alex to the kitchen. The travertine tiles were cold under her feet, and she wished she’d thought to pop into the guest room and slide on her flip-flops. Well, Alex was wandering around barefoot, so she’d do the same.

After setting his cell phone down on the counter, he got a glass out of the cupboard, then went to the fridge and retrieved a large plastic jug full of tea. Once he’d poured some for her and returned the jug to the refrigerator, he busied himself with getting a pot of coffee going.

Caitlin sipped her tea and tried not to watch him, although that was difficult. Something about the way he moved, the way he looked…everything…seemed to draw her eyes, no matter what she did. “So…what’s the plan for today?”

“It depends, I guess.” He turned away from the coffeemaker and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m supposed to work, but I’ll get someone to cover for me.”

She hadn’t even thought about that. It was Thursday, a normal work day. Or at least a normal work day for most of the world. She knew a lot of the Wilcox clan had regular jobs, acted as if there wasn’t anything particularly special about them, and it seemed to be that way down here in de la Paz territory as well. In Jerome, people worked, but even the shop owners tended to be fairly haphazard about their business hours. And since so many of the McAllister witches and warlocks were artists and artisans, they set their own schedules, such as they were.

The coffee began to perk. Caitlin inhaled the aroma, wishing coffee tasted even half as good as it smelled. But the jug tea was actually pretty good, and she could feel herself becoming more awake, more on top of things, as the caffeine started to flow through her bloodstream. There was a downside to being more alert, though; as her brain woke up, memory started to flow as well, the nightmarish images of Danica in Matías’ arms, of her letting him touch her. Violate her.

“Hey,” Alex said, the brittle note completely gone from his voice. He’d stepped closer to her, and she hadn’t even noticed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, forcing a smile. “It’s just…memory can be a bitch sometimes, you know?”

He reached out and ran a thumb over the back of her hand. Briefly, and purely out of a desire to reassure her, she knew, but warmth flooded through her at that touch. She remembered how he’d held her last night, how it had felt being pressed up against his bare skin, how she hadn’t wanted to pull away but had done so because she knew it was dangerous to let him continue to hold her.

Yes, memory definitely could be a bitch.

“I know it’s rough. But we’ll get through this. Okay?”

She nodded, then made herself sip some more tea. Alex seemed to get the message, because he backed away and busied himself with retrieving a coffee mug from the cupboard and fetching a small container of cream from the refrigerator.

Just as he was pouring some coffee into his mug, his phone pinged. An email, it sounded like. He finished with the coffee, stirred in some cream, and then went to pick up his phone. As he read the message, he seemed to simultaneously relax and tense up.

“What is it?”

“The good news — I’m off the hook for work until this is all settled. My father’s going to keep an eye on things.”

“Oh? Doesn’t he have another job?”

Alex shook his head, his mouth pulling into a slight frown. “No, he’s sort of retired. That was his fiftieth birthday present to himself. He used to run the store, but now it’s my turn.”

He didn’t sound too pleased about it, and Caitlin wondered if that was where some of the apparent bitterness about his education had come from. Someone with a double major in marketing and communications had probably planned to do something a little more exciting than manage his family’s neighborhood store.

“And the bad news?” she asked.

His gaze returned to the email. “It sounds like Marie Begonie — that’s the Wilcox seer?”

Caitlin nodded.

“Anyway, she’s coming down to Tucson. My mother gave her directions, so I guess she’s heading straight here to the house. It sounds like she’ll get here a little after one.”

Great. Well, it was probably to be expected. No way would Angela allow all this responsibility to rest on the shoulders of an untried seer, even though Caitlin knew deep down that Marie wouldn’t be able to help. For whatever reason, rescuing Danica and Roslyn was Caitlin’s responsibility.

She didn’t tell Alex that; it wasn’t as if he’d be able to stop Marie, not when she was coming down here at the express request of the McAllister
prima
. Well, at Connor’s request, probably. Caitlin hadn’t spent a huge amount of time in their shared company, but she could tell that relations between Angela and Marie were a bit strained, no doubt because Marie couldn’t help seeing the daughter she should have had every time she looked at the McAllister
prima,
if only fate hadn’t intervened. But Marie would never go against the wishes of her
primus
.

“Have you met Marie?” Caitlin asked.

Alex looked somewhat surprised at the apparent
non sequitur
. “Um, no. I haven’t been up to McAllister territory since, well….” His eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers as he let the sentence die away.

“Since you went up to find out if you were Angela’s consort.” The thought of Angela kissing Alex in that age-old ritual sent an odd stab of jealousy through Caitlin, which was stupid. It was all just part of the tradition. They hadn’t even known each other. And Angela was ridiculously happy with Connor — anyone with half-decent vision could see that. But Alex? Obviously, he wasn’t married, and as far as Caitlin could tell, it didn’t seem as if he was involved with anyone, either. She sort of doubted he’d have let her sleep in his bed, his role of protector notwithstanding, if he was in a serious relationship with someone else.

“Yeah, since then.” His tone too deliberately casual, he continued, “Anyway, I met Connor once, and that’s about it for the Wilcoxes. I know some of them have started coming to Phoenix to shop and whatever, and a few more are attending ASU, but none of them have made it all the way to Tucson.”

“Until now,” Caitlin said. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. They’d slept in; it was almost nine. Her stomach rumbled, and although she didn’t want to impinge too much, she knew she needed to eat something so they could get on with their day. She really didn’t want to risk Marie showing up while she and Alex were still running around in their equivalent of lounge wear. “Are you one of those breakfast-skipping types? Because I’ll try to scrounge something if you are.”

“Are you kidding? It’s the most important meal of the day.” His dark eyes glinted at her, and it seemed as if some of his good humor had been restored. “I’ve got some frozen breakfast burritos, and there are bananas if you need fruit.”

Normally, she’d have yogurt and fruit, but a burrito sounded nice and sturdy. Caitlin had a feeling she’d need as much ballast as she could eat in order to face Marie Wilcox-Begonie.

C
aitlin was nervous
, that much Alex could tell. Obviously, she wasn’t too thrilled about having Marie show up here, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her. After all, she’d been hiding her gift from everyone, and so Marie had been managing seer duties for both clans for the past two years. From the tense, strained look in Caitlin’s eyes, Alex thought she was expecting some kind of dressing-down. He could only hope that Marie wouldn’t do that sort of thing in front of an audience, because he knew he wasn’t about to leave Caitlin alone with the Wilcox seer.

They’d eaten breakfast, and taken their respective showers and finished getting ready. Since breakfast had been so late, they only grabbed some fruit for lunch. Well, Caitlin had; he asked if she wanted a sandwich and she shook her head, so he put together a quickie ham on wheat bread sandwich for himself while she munched on grapes and stared off through the sliding glass doors, expression troubled. Whether she was worrying about what might be happening to her friends at that moment, or stressing about what Marie was going to say to her, Alex didn’t know for sure, and he didn’t dare ask.

At five minutes after one, the doorbell rang. He slid off the stool he’d been sitting on at the breakfast bar and headed toward the front door, Caitlin a pace or two behind him. She’d spent some time on her appearance, that much was obvious — her hair hung in shining waves past her shoulders, and she was wearing darker, nicer jeans and a dark green knit top that hugged her curves without being too revealing. Even so, he’d had to work not to stare at her when she emerged from the guest bathroom earlier that morning. She was just so frigging gorgeous.

When Alex opened the door, he saw two people waiting outside: a severe-looking woman with straight black hair and elegant cheekbones, and a man about the same age, also dark-haired, a ponytail hanging halfway down his back. That must be Andre Begonie, Angela’s father. Unlike his wife, Andre wore a pleasant expression, and smiled at Alex.

“I hope you don’t mind both of us coming,” Andre said. “I’m Andre, and this is my wife Marie, the Wilcox seer.”

“Hi, Andre, Marie. I’m Alex. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, pushing the door open a little wider at the same time. The Wilcox witches entered, Andre flashing a reassuring smile at Caitlin as she stammered a hello, while Marie only nodded and continued on into the living room.

Nonplussed, Alex brought up the rear. “Uh — can I get you anything? Iced tea? Water?”

“Some water would be very good. Thank you, Alex,” Marie said in a cool, brisk tone. She sat down on the couch, and Andre settled himself next to her. Looking awkward, as if she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands, Caitlin took her own place on the love seat.

Since he really didn’t want to leave her alone with Marie and Andre any longer than he had to, Alex hurried with grabbing a couple of glasses, dispensing some ice into them from the freezer door, then filling them with water. When he returned to the living room, he was relieved to see that Andre was asking Caitlin if she was doing okay here in Tucson, and whether she needed anything.