The Guardian (Mended Souls Book 1) (7 page)

L
ucas grunted
, landing flat on his back on the beach near the same cabin where he’d first met the Lord. The stars, large enough to touch, twinkled merrily in the sky mocking his discomfort. Storm clouds in rich shades of purple, pink, and navy blue hovered on the far side of the lake. Seemed kinda weird, considering where he was and all. So much for heaven being butterflies and daffodils.

His side burned like he had a bad case of road-rash. He lifted his shirt for a look and grimaced at the angry-looking red welt running along his washboard abs. It was festering. He needed to find shelter and some medical aid.

He climbed gingerly to his feet and had a look around. The campfire they’d enjoyed the fish at the other night had burned itself out and was nothing more than a blackened mess, rather like his life. Shivering as a blast of frigid air hit his skin, Lucas headed for the cabin.

He stumbled up the rough-hewn stairs. noting the old-fashioned rocking chairs on the porch facing the lake. A nice spot to relax on a warm summer’s evening if you weren’t an angel tasked with saving human lives.

His fist made a dull thud against the solid pine door. When no one answered he tried the knob and found it turned smoothly beneath his hand. He entered slowly, but the large room with an open beam ceiling was empty.

Making his way over to a single oversized porcelain farm sink, he turned on the taps. A stack of snowy white towels sat conveniently on the counter to the right but he hesitated, loath to ruin them. There wasn’t much choice though, he needed to get the wound cleaned.

Lucas dropped a hand towel in the scalding water then stripped out of his soiled shirt. After sluicing his face and neck he wrung out the towel and eased it against his side. Sweat broke out over his back and forearms, the pain almost unbearable, but he forced himself to repeat the procedure two more times before he was satisfied he’d done all that he could.

Weak-kneed, he searched for a place to sit and found an oversized tweed and leather sofa in front of a blackened stone fireplace taking up almost an entire wall. There was kindling already piled in the hearth and a match on the mantle so he took that as an invitation and lit the fire before lowering himself gingerly onto the couch. A beer and a hockey game and he’d be set. He leaned back and closed his eyes, figuring on a couple minutes of rest.

When he awoke he was lying stretched out on the sofa and a soft wool blanket had been thrown over his body. He swung his legs down and sat up, wincing at the tug on his side.

A female hummed quietly by the sink, her slender back almost hidden by a waterfall of golden brown tresses. The tips brushed the top of a skintight pair of well-worn jeans that lovingly cupped a heart-shaped ass. She seemed oblivious to the fact Lucas was awake, and continued her chore of cutting and arranging a giant bouquet of meadow flowers into a crystal vase. She made a pretty picture framed by the gingham curtains lining the plate-glass window. He cleared his throat to get her attention, curious about who she might be and what she was doing there.

Startled, she dropped the knife and it clanged into the sink. Her head drooped like one of her flowers. Then she swung around, her arms crossed defensively.

Lucas froze, shocked to his core. What kind of sick joke was this?

“Natalya?” he croaked.

T
racy sobbed
until she couldn’t cry any more. Her chest was nothing more than a giant aching hole. Hank was dead. There would be no more stupid morgue jokes. No newspaper funnies left on her desk. No more bags of her favorite sugary donuts at coffee break.

No Hank.

They’d been friends and partners for most of the five years she’d worked here. What was she going to do without him?

Gil passed her a tissue and she blotted the worst of her tears away before meeting his concerned gaze.

“You going to be all right?”

She nodded, there wasn’t much choice. “Do they have any suspects?”

Gil looked away. “Not yet.”

Great
.

None of this made any sense. What was the common denominator? Her eyes widened as she swung around to face Scott seated in front of her desk.

“This is all your fault.” She leaned over and slammed her hands on the desk. “Everything that’s happened started after your friend and sister arrived here. What kind of crap were you guys into before that accident?”

He didn’t answer.

“Tell me,” she cried, her fingers tingling with the urge to shake him until he admitted his guilt.

“Tracy,” Gil warned.

Scott shook his head and latched onto her hands, refusing to let go when she would have pulled away.

“I can see where that beautiful head of yours is going, but you’re wrong. Lucas and I have never gotten into the drug scene. Ever,” he emphasized. “I’m not going to lie to you, there were plenty of parties and more than enough chances to try the shit out, but we weren’t into it, okay?”

He squeezed her hands, then let go before standing. “I’m not sure what this is about, but we’re going to find out. I have money; I can hire private investigators to do some digging around. There has to be a link somewhere.”

“We don’t…”

“No thank you,” Gil spoke over top Tracy. “We don’t need anyone coming in and muddying the waters. The Chicago P.D. know what they’re doing, let them do their jobs.”

Gil strode to the door, stopping with his hand on the knob. “Don’t go anywhere, Anderson. They’ll probably want to question you soon.” He turned to Tracy. “If you need some time, I understand. Take a break, it’ll help.” Then he nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.

An awkward silence fell over the room. Now that she had calmed down, Tracy was embarrassed by her outburst. It wasn’t like her to be so emotional. But then, she’d never had a partner get murdered before either.

“Do you honestly believe I have something to do with this?” Scott moved around the desk until he stood directly in front of her. He tipped her chin up.

She met his gaze defiantly. “I don’t know, do I? We barely know each other.”

Instead of getting mad like she expected, his lips quirked. His thumb brushed slowly along her bottom lip and her eyes slid to half-mast. She gulped, unable to deny the sensual reaction to his touch.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

His mouth took over where his thumb left off, feathering gently along the edge of her lips until she opened on a sigh. “Don’t what?”

Their lips clung, bound by invisible threads.

“Deny that we have something between us?” he asked.

More teasing, exploring kisses meant to drive her out of her freaking mind.

“I’m not,” he murmured, answering himself. He stepped in closer, so close she could feel the exaggerated beat of his heart and the heat radiating from his big body. The all too evident ridge of his arousal.

Even as she met him kiss for kiss a small voice in her head kept asking if she knew what she was doing, who she was kissing.

The answer; not a freaking clue.

But she meant to find out.

L
ucas scrubbed
his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before he chanced another glance at the woman he’d just been ogling. Nothing had changed. Natalya stood before him in a shirt that was too damn short—was that a diamond winking at him from her belly button?—and a pair of jeans that looked as though they were painted onto her lithe frame.

Shit
.
Natalya’s here
.

Which meant she must also be in transition?

Cursing their luck wouldn’t change a thing, even if it would be a good momentary release. It was his fucking fault this was happening and now others were paying the price.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked, looking impossibly young and innocent. The sunlight streamed through the window behind her, bathing her body in a warm, ethereal glow.

Lucas rose, moved to her side, and held out his arms. “C’mere. Of course I’m glad to see you.”

She flowed into his arms and laid her head against his chest.

“I just wish it wasn’t here,” he whispered into her hair, inhaling the fresh scent of the meadow on her skin. He’d spent so many years thinking of her as Scott’s little sister, it was hard reconciling the undeniable attraction coursing through his veins. He’d never realized how petite she was. The top of her head barely brushed his chin, and his arms wrapped around her narrow back, came conveniently close to the sides of her breasts.

Feeling like a pervert, he kissed her forehead and set her back to get a better look at her familiar, yet somehow different, features. He didn’t remember those cheekbones being quite so high. Nor had he noticed the lush fullness of her mouth. Jerking his gaze from her lips, Lucas relaxed a little when he met her blue-green eyes. The mischievous smile lighting their depths was one he knew well.

“Well, this is a fine pickle I’ve gotten us into,” he muttered.

Nat giggled, the sound a sparkling brook that quenched his tortured soul. From the time she was little, he and Scott had known she was special. Different from the rest of the hard-scrabble kids trying to eke out their place in a world that refused to cut them a break. Her bubbly personality and enjoyment with the simplest of pleasures—whether it was a tulip poking out of the hard ground, the lazy buzzing of a bee, or the gift of a cookie he’d filched from the local supermarket—made his life bearable during those tough times.

“At least we have each other,” she said. She leaned to the right, her gaze searching the room behind him. “Where’s Scott?”

She doesn’t know.

It was one thing for her to go off to college and not see her family until the holidays, but this…

She and Scott had always been close. All three of them were. She was going to take this hard.

“Natalya…” He grabbed her hands and waited until she met his somber gaze. “He made it, honey. We’re all alone.”

The excitement shining in her expression slowly died, leaving behind bewilderment and pain. “How? What happened, Lucas? Where are we exactly?” Moisture formed at the corners of her eyes and she dashed it away. “The last thing I remember is that van coming right for us and Scott pushing my head down, then… nothing until I woke up here.”

So she’d probably been in the cabin while he’d been receiving his new duties. The Big Guy had to know how he’d feel about seeing her. Why keep it a secret? And why let him in on it now?

She stared at him with so much trust and affection. Cursing himself for the asshole he was, Lucas sidestepped her questions. “Do you want to know how Scott is doing? I’ve seen him since—you know—this.”

The clouds in her eyes dispersed, leaving elation in its wake. “Of course I do. Is he okay then? Does he miss us? When can I see him?”

The last was said in a plea that ripped at his heart.

He turned and strode across the room to the fireplace, adding another log and stirring the embers, anything so he wouldn’t have to see her disappointment. The truth was, unless the boss gave the all clear, she might never get to see her brother again.

“Lucas?”

He jumped. She’d followed him and now crouched in front of the fresh sparks, her hands held out for warmth.

“I’m not going to, am I?” she asked, her attention on the quickly spiraling flames.

Lucas gazed at the silken fall of honey-gold hair hiding her expression and cursed the God that would do this to someone so undeserving.

“I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know.”

S
cott was
slow to pull out of the sensual haze a few kisses from Tracy induced. The effect was like a bomb on his heart, the blood pounding so hard in his ears he’d barely heard the phone she turned to answer. Their chemistry was off the charts crazy, yet he had no idea where he stood with her. It was maddening. And exciting. She was different from his usual hook-ups—not that he classed her anywhere near the same category as them—and he liked her. A lot.

She pulled a file closer, met his gaze, then returned to her call. He could still see the remnants of tears on her cheeks and ached to kiss them away. He knew something of how she must be feeling, having just lost Lucas and Natalya himself. There were no words that could give comfort in a situation like theirs, but having her in his life the past couple of days made a big difference. Hard to imagine that’s all it was; two days. Their connection was instantaneous from the moment he saw her crouched over that poor dog. If he were a person who believed in fate, he’d have to say they were meant to meet.

Tracy murmured goodbye to whoever was on the other end of the line, then sighed and sank into her chair. Elbows on the cherry wood desktop, she combed her hands through the chestnut waves of her hair. “We can’t do that any more.”

“Do what?” he asked, knowing full well what she meant.

She waved a vague hand between them. “You know what I mean.” Letting it fall to her lap, she stared at him with haunted green eyes. “You confuse me. And no, don’t you smile.”

He wiped the smirk away.

“I like my life structured and organized, but ever since you came into the picture it’s been anything but ordinary. You’re messing with my Zen, Anderson.”

Scott’s lips quirked. He couldn’t help it. She looked like a little kid who just found out the Easter bunny had given up his day job.

“I don’t mean to mess with your Zen, as you put it.” Poor baby, she did look frazzled, and a little scared.

He leaned forward and held his hand palm up on the desk. “I’m sorry you lost your partner. Why don’t you let me take you away from here for the day?” She gave her head an undecided shake. “C’mon, Trace. You heard your boss. He encouraged you to take some time off.”

“What about you? Aren’t you here to see your sister and friend?”

Scott looked down. “It can wait. I’d rather remember them as they were.”

Her hand gently entwined with his fingers. He lifted his gaze and got lost in her eyes. They reminded him of a meadow he’d seen on a shoot in Ireland. He could cheerfully spend the rest of his days waking up to that view.

Holy shit
.

He was in love. How the hell did that happen?

He’d played parts before that included love at first sight and always thought the screenwriters needed to jump on the reality train more often. Who believed in that crap anyway? But it had always paid the bills and gained him fans, so he’d gone along for the ride.

But this. It made no sense, and yet all the sense in the world.

“So, what do you say? Want to run away with me?”

Tracy scowled. “Be serious,” she said.

He squeezed her fingers and met her defiant gaze. “Oh, I am, sweetheart. I am.”

It looked as though his work was going to be cut out for him. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can go for a picnic in the park. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had a good meal for a while. I’m starved.”

She looked him up and down and his heart kicked up a fuss. Suddenly, food wasn’t the only thing he was hungry for.

“I guess, but we can’t go far. I want to stick around in case Gil hears something about Hank. And I need to pick up Sugar-Bear today.” She pushed her chair back and stood, nervously smoothing her skirt down that delectable ass.

“Sugar-Bear?” He shook his head. Poor mutt was going to get a complex.

Tracy gave him the stink-eye. “What’s wrong with it? He’s as big as a bear and he’s a sweetheart. It seemed rather obvious.”

He held up a hand in peace, and then completely ruined it by laughing. Yep, she was one in a million all right.