Retribution (60 page)

She didn’t need an orgasm, but she was about get one.

His neck flexed as he looked up, muttering a string of profanities. Then he looked back down, touching his lips to her shoulder while emitting magical vibrations from the fingers between her legs. “Come, baby. Now.”

The demand shot a tickling thrill down her spine, and her core flexed as her vision flashed. She hugged his arm to her chest. Then he squeezed, holding her as tightly as he’d ever held her while growling into her shoulder.

Her delirious head rolled, her unfocused eyes going with it, and her body shook, riding the physical and emotional high.

He twitched and shuddered. Then his grip loosened as he turned his face into her hair, struggling to catch his breath. “Damn, you just about ruined my stamina streak.”

She was too sated to move, so she didn’t. “What’s that mean? You’ve never gotten off before getting the woman off?”

“Wizards pride themselves on the ability, and you nearly blew my perfect record.”

She smirked, too lazy to do more. “That sounds like a challenge.”

He groaned and throbbed. “Like a fun challenge.”

Taking her wrists, he lay down, spreading her out so every inch of her back half touched his front half. And they stayed that way for a long time, silently staring at the amber chandelier while thinking about each other.

Chapter 41

Breakfast was rushed and taken over by discussions about the day ahead – their time-table, precautions, and back-up plans.

“We can’t attack his camp,” Catigern insisted. “We’ll burn the forest and involve the hexless.”

“If he has the guts to come here,” Quin returned, “he’ll find my message, and he won’t be able to resist. No one sees her like I do.”

“What are you showing him?” Layla whispered, her stomach squirming.

He looked over and ran a hand down her hair. “Your power. Nothing sexual.”

She sighed as Catigern tossed out another concern. “What if he doesn’t have the guts to come here?”

“Do you think he has the patience not to?” Quin asked.

“If he knows we have an army,” Catigern answered, “yes.”

“If he knows we have an army, he knows we don’t keep them here. If nothing else, he’ll drop by to torch the place. But he’ll forget all about burning it down when he finds my message.”

At the words
torch the place
, Layla turned her focus to her breakfast, trying to keep it down.

The conversation ended soon after they finished eating. Then Quin refilled her coffee while leading her across the lawn. “About Travis and Phyllis,” he said, grabbing her hand before she could smack herself.

He knew her well. “I can't believe I keep forgetting them. You make me scatterbrained, Quin. It's all your fault I have the memory of a fish. I’d forget to pee if you didn't set me by the bathroom door once in a while.”

He laughed, but then he sobered as pulled her to a standstill and found her gaze. “I know it seems grisly, but how does a car accident sound?”

She sobered as well, thinking about her friends getting the news she'd died in a car wreck. Yes, it was grisly and sad, but it was better than the alternative – them searching for her, not knowing if she was alive or dead, going to great lengths to find answers that would never come. She couldn't put that kind of strain on them; leave them with a mystery that could haunt them for the rest of their lives. “Car accident,” she repeated. “It's believable, and it doesn't raise suspicion. Let's go with it.”

“Okay,” Quin agreed, urging her to walk. “Either Edana or Devlin will give them the news, so mention their names when you call Travis and Phyllis.”

Layla’s stomach flipped. “When am I calling them?”

“As soon as we’re done working out the details.”

“Oh.”

“We can’t wait, Layla.”

She gave a sad nod, and he continued explaining the plan. “When you mention Devlin and Edana, say they’re family. If anyone else calls with the bad news, it will raise even more suspicion. I also think it's a good idea to tell them you're going on a trip. They might call the Oregon highway patrol for answers if they think it happened here, but if you tell them you're traveling, they'll assume it happened on a random highway. You could tell them you're visiting extended family in Canada. Then they'll be dealing with an entirely different country, which will further discourage a curious investigation.”

“Okay,” Layla agreed, impressed by how much thought he'd put into her predicament. But of course he had. He was her thorough hero. “What if they want a funeral?”

“We'll let Edana and Devlin deal with that. We don’t have enough time to organize it, and they may want to hear Travis' and Phyllis' reactions before planning a fake burial. If they think your friends need the closure, they'll take care of it.”

“I hate to put that on them.”

“They won't mind, love. They'll do whatever they can to ease your mind and the minds of the people who care about you.”

Layla fought the urge to bite her fingernails, but she lost and pulled her thumb nail to her teeth.
 

“Layla Love,” Quin whispered.

“What?”

“Why don't you talk to me instead of biting those beautiful nails? Why are you chewing on your fingers.”

“My phone calls,” she answered, moving to the next fingernail.

He reached up, pulling her hand from her mouth. Then he magically repaired the damage with kisses. “I know it's going to be hard, love, but I’ll help you through it, and when you're done, we'll go visit your parents' memorial.”

“Really?” she asked, perking up. “What about our tight schedule?”

“We have time for a short visit, but we need to get through these phone calls.”

“That’s a good incentive. Let’s do it.”

After discussing the plan with Devlin and Edana, Layla and Quin slipped inside the house and got comfortable on the couch.

She called Gerald's office first, and breezed through a short conversation in which she dropped a few family members' names and told him she’d be on vacation for a while.
 

When she hung up, she stared at the phone, trying to find the strength to dial Phyllis' number with a finger that was desensitized by dread and an unnatural heart rate. She blindly found Quin’s hand, gripping it as she crawled onto his lap. Then she took a deep breath and made the call.

Phyllis’ answering machine picked up, and Layla exhaled, half disappointed, half relieved. “Hey, Phyllis. I was just calling to say hi, but I guess you're out on a date with that young stud you met at the community bake sale.”
 

Quin quietly laughed, and Layla found a weak smile as she continued her message, feeling the lie in her gut. “I may not get to talk to you for a while. I'm going on a road trip to Canada with my cousins Edana and Devlin. I'll probably be gone for a couple of weeks, but I'll call the moment I get home. Be good now, and don't give them boys more than they can handle...” She paused, swallowing a lump while hoping the machine wasn't about to hang up on her. “I um...” Frustrated, sad and guilty, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find the words. “Bye, Phyllis,” she eventually squeaked, unable to convey how she felt about her through a machine.

She hung up, and her face flushed as she buried it in Quin's neck. “I feel guilty. It was horrible of me to do that over a machine… but it was easier.”

Quin swept her hair aside and stroked the back of her neck. “Phyllis won't know that phone call was different from the others. I'm sure it will brighten her day.”

“I hope so,” Layla mumbled. Then she left his neck and looked at her phone. “I can't do that to Travis. If I don't get him, I'll have to try again later. I won't leave him a message unless I absolutely have to.”

“Okay,” Quin agreed. “We'll take your cell with us if you don't get him now.”

She absently nodded, still staring at her phone like it was about to bite her. “This will be much harder, Quin. I care about Phyllis a lot. She's a nice lady, and I know she cares about me. But what I have with Travis is completely different. He holds a place in my heart that Phyllis never reached.”

Quin shifted, furrowing his eyebrows as he found her face. “I didn’t realize you were that close to him.”

“I’m not sure it’s accurate to say I am,” she countered. “I mean, I can count on one hand how many times we got together outside of work, we never hung out just the two of us, I've never been inside his house, we didn't exchange secrets or talk on the phone, and I think we seriously hugged each other maybe two or three times in the three years we worked together.”

“Then why is it so hard?” Quin pressed. “It doesn't sound like the two of you were that close at all.”

“But that was my fault. See, before my mom had her stroke, I had friends. I hung out with people from school, and I always joined my teammates to celebrate wins. But I didn't know Travis and Phyllis then. They barely got a glimpse of that side of me, because I started working at the diner less than a month before my mom had her stroke, and when that happened, I changed. I stopped going places, and I never socialized, partly because I was busy and didn’t like leaving my mom with a nurse, and partly because I was depressed and my friends didn’t understand why. I brought them down, so they stopped calling, and I crawled into a hole where I could be sad without making others sad, and that's where I stayed… until Travis noticed. Out of everyone in my life, it was someone I barely knew who reached in and tried to grab me. My friends wrote me off as a head case, but Travis wasn't fazed by my attitude. He gradually wiggled through my defenses, and before I even realized what was going on, I had someone asking me about my day,
and I was honestly answering. I’d get to work, and he’d be standing in the doorway, waiting to tell me a joke. And if I didn't laugh, he’d try again the next day.” She paused, her eyes shiny as she looked from her phone to Quin. “He tried to get me to hang out and have some fun, and even though I constantly turned him down, he never got upset about it, and he never gave up on me. Others found me too depressing, boring and inconvenient, and I'm sure he did, too. But he was the friend I didn't even realize I had, and he was the only one willing to give when I had nothing to return.”

Quin had listened closely. Now he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his chest. “I had no idea.”

“I know, and really, I didn't either. Through all that, I didn't realize what I had. I looked forward to seeing him, but I never considered what my life would have been like without him, and I was never as good a friend to him as he was to me.”

“I'm sure you underestimate what kind of friend you were.”

She shrugged as she fidgeted with her phone. “I don't know what I ever did for him.”

“Apparently something, or he wouldn't have been so determined to get close and stay there. It seems the two of you had a lot in common, so maybe you were to him what he was to you – someone who’d be there when the others weren't.”

“I’d like to believe he feels that way.”

“How about this?” Quin suggested, squeezing her shoulders. “As soon as this battle is over, we'll make sure Travis gets his visit, and you can ask him if you're worthy of his friendship. I doubt you'll be disappointed by his answer.”

“That's pretty positive thinking, Quin.”

“Have you ever known me to be negative?”

She smirked as she shook her head.

“Make your phone call, love. Tell Travis you'll be contacting him to arrange his visit as soon as you get back from Canada. Your schedule’s about to blow wide open.”

“I don't want to get his hopes up.”

“They already are. He mentions the trip every time he talks to you.”

“True.”

“Come on, love, try not to focus on the negatives. Look at the bright side, and suddenly things aren't so dark.”

“The bright side,” she repeated, pumping herself up. Then she squeezed his hand and dialed Travis' number.
 

He answered on the first ring and sounded upbeat, giving her his southern
yello
instead of
hello
.

“Hey, Trav.”

“Hey, sugar. How's it goin'?”
 

“Pretty good. You sound chipper. Did you hit the jackpot at the casino?”

“Close, but no cigar. Actually, I was just thinkin' my mom must be rollin' over in her grave.”

“Why? Did you finally get that vulgar tattoo you've been wanting?”

He laughed then teased back. “I told ya', Layla, I already got that tattoo. It's on my ass.”

“You're lying.”

“I'm tellin' ya', I've got your face tattooed on my left butt cheek.”

Layla laughed, her cheeks warming as she looked at Quin, who’d clearly overheard and found it quite amusing.
 

“Tell you what, Trav,” Layla taunted, “next time I see you, you're going to have to drop your pants and prove it.”

“Wait a minute. Are you askin' if ya can check out my butt?”

“No, just the tattoo on it. It's my face, so I'm fairly certain I have a legal right to see it.”

“I'm not sure that's true.”

“You're just trying to get out of it.”