Call Out (21 page)

"That still gives you time for a cat nap," I
told London.

With all the heavy food in his system, he
couldn't fight the exhaustion any longer. I coaxed him into lying
down with me, and he went right to sleep. I figured that Ashe had
chosen the breakfast menu with that very result in mind. It
backfired a bit, I noticed, making Ashe a little groggy, too. He
fought back by staying busy and on the move, heading back to his
own room to round things up for the move to our new digs.

I lay beside London for a while, just
listening to his soft snores. Even in sleep he didn’t relax,
twitching at every sound. After a while, I crept from the bed,
changed into street clothes, and began packing up our room. I
started with my own things, then moved on to London's. It felt kind
of weird picking up after a guy who wasn't technically my
boyfriend.

Did I want that? Even taking the magic stuff
out of the equation, dating London Dahlbeck would be complicated,
to say the least. I'd seen what Dylan had endured these last few
months. Did I want a relationship that consisted of phone calls,
text messages, and a few hours of face-time whenever our schedules
aligned?

God help me, I did. I wanted it. I wanted
him. The thought scared me almost as much as his creepy
ex-girlfriend.

I pushed my doubts aside for now; there would
be plenty of time for them later - if we didn't get ourselves
killed. I pushed that thought aside, too, and fished out my laptop,
needing something to occupy my mind.

I immersed myself in 'housekeeping' --
catching up on email, firing off a note to let Alex know that
things were okay here, paying a few bills. I was so caught up in
what I was doing that when the door opened, I jumped like I'd been
poked with a cattle prod. I pressed a hand over my racing heart and
looked up, ready to tear into the culprit.

"We've got to move," Ashe said before I could
speak. "It's not safe here."

Without a single question, I shut the lid on
my computer and shoved it into my backpack, tugged on my shoes, and
grabbed my bags. Meanwhile, Ashe shook London awake. He didn't even
give London a chance to get dressed before he was urging us both
out the door. We met the others in the hallway, and our herd moved
toward the elevator. I noticed that Brian was ash-pale under his
tan.

While we waited what seemed like years for
the elevator, London tugged on a t-shirt and then asked the
question no one else had voiced. "What happened?"

Brian shook his head, pulling Dylan closer
and wrapping both arms around her. A look passed between him and
Quinn, who said, “Not here.”

The elevator chimed its arrival at our floor,
propelling the guys into protector mode. Brian turned so that he
stood between Dylan and the elevator, and London took a step
forward, half-shielding me in the same way. Ashe and Quinn pushed
past all of us, Ashe with one hand extended, palm out, while
Quinn’s hand slid to the holster that had been hidden at the small
of his back. The doors began to glide open, and Quinn drew the gun,
bringing it down to rest against his thigh.

The elevator was empty.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but the men
stayed tense, caught in the adrenaline high of the fight-or-flight
response. Or maybe, in this case, fight-and-flight.

The seven of us and our luggage filled the
elevator like crayons crammed helter-skelter back into the box. We
girls were pushed to the back. Ashe and Quinn took point near the
doors, which was fine with me. Special agents for a secret agency
had to be better in a fight than Dylan or me.

We reached the lobby level, and Ashe and
Quinn both tensed, ready to deal with any threats. The doors slid
open and someone small and fast darted toward the elevator,
stopping short at the sight of us. A split-second later I heard a
shrill, deafening shriek, and I realized that the person I couldn’t
see through the forest of tall men was a little girl. She turned
tail and ran, screaming at the top of her lungs that ‘the man in
the elevator has a gun’.

With his free hand, Quinn pulled out a badge,
the other hand still gripping the gun low and tight against his
leg. A woman in a skirt suit who I figured had to be the hotel
manager came over to talk to Quinn. I could tell that she knew him,
knew that it was okay for him to be carrying around a handgun. She
flirted with him for a few seconds under the guise of investigating
the situation, and then waved us on and went to talk to the
startled guests.

We made our way out of the hotel to Quinn and
Brian’s cars. Brian was still shaken, so Ashe took his keys. Brian
let him, climbing into the back and sitting as near to Dylan as
seatbelts would allow. London and I piled into the back of Quinn’s
car, neither of us wanting to let the other out of our sight, and
Adrian took the front passenger seat.

The four of us stayed silent until Quinn
turned onto I-4 and headed north, his eyes going often to the
rearview mirror.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Winter Park. The agency has a safe house on
the lake up there.”

I nodded. “I know where that is. I used to
live up in Winter Park. Nice place.”

“And on the outskirts of Orlando,” Quinn
added. “It’ll put some distance between us and the bad guys. Should
make it a little harder for them to screw with us.” He glanced into
the rearview mirror and met my eyes for a second. “Ashe told me
what happened last night.”

“What I want to know,” London said, “is what
happened today.”

“Yeah, about that. I don’t really know what
happened.” Before I could ask, Quinn continued, “At least not all
of it.”

“What do you know?” Adrian asked.

Quinn took a deep breath. “I know I fucked
up. When they left us alone during the show last night and then hit
with a psychic attack instead of a face-to-face one, it...it threw
me off. I wasn’t careful enough, and I could have gotten myself and
Brian both killed.”

London sat up straighter and reached for my
hand. “What...?” he began, but Quinn cut him off.

“We dropped Kent and Miranda – his bodyguard
– off at the airport with no sign of trouble. We waited around to
be sure they made it through security with no problems, and then we
headed back here. Not a hint of anything wrong. And then we’re
walking from my car to the hotel, talking about the playoffs next
week, and all hell broke loose.” He executed a tricky lane change
to get away from a batshit-crazy driver in the world’s ugliest
sports car. “Fucking moron,” he mumbled.

“Quinn,” I said, my voice a warning.

“I’m getting there,” he promised. “One second
we’re walking along bullshitting, the next this scary Amazonian
redhead steps out of the shadows and grabs Brian. I’m a few steps
ahead, right? So it took me a minute to realize something had
happened. God, I’m such an idiot. Anyway, I don’t know what she
said, but she was whispering in his ear, and then...he
just...crumpled.”

“The Taser thing?”

“No. He wasn’t hurt. Not physically. I don’t
know what the hell she did, but it wasn’t that. Anyway, I couldn’t
shoot her – I was afraid I’d hit Brian – so I used magic. Combat
magic is not my strong suit, but I stunned her enough she let go of
Brian. I drew on her, but I still didn’t have a clear shot. She
ran, and I had a choice between going after her and making sure
Brian was okay. Since I didn’t know what she’d done to him, I
didn’t know if leaving him alone was a good idea. I let her get
away.”

We were all quiet for a heartbeat. Adrian was
the first to break the silence.

“You did what seemed right at the time. No
one here is going to blame you for choosing Brian’s well-being over
catching Julia.”

“It’s a choice I shouldn’t have had to make.
I should have been more careful. I should have been prepared.” He
sighed. “Maybe I’ve been out of the field too long.”

“You don’t chase bad guys?” I asked.

“I’m the brains behind the operations, these
days. I plan and coordinate. Other agents follow my orders, and I
try to avoid getting them killed.”

“So Brian’s not hurt?” London asked.

“No. Not hurt. He’s shaken. Bad. Bad enough
he couldn’t tell me what happened. But not hurt.”

I leaned against London, offering what
comfort I could. He wrapped his arm around me as best he could
within the confines of the car. I could feel tendrils of emotion
seeping out from around his shields: worry, guilt, and grief. I
hoped he couldn’t feel the flare of jealousy that his grief sparked
in me. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want him mourning his ex – the
death of his dreams or what-the-hell-ever – while he was holding
me. I understood it, but I didn’t have to like it.

Chapter Nineteen

No one had much to say during the rest of the
drive to the safe house. Adrian turned on the radio, and I pointed
him toward one of my favorite Orlando stations. One of DPS’s songs
was on the radio, so Adrian hit the scan button. I gave him a
couple of other good options, and he settled on a station that was
playing classic rock. Tom Petty, Steve Miller, Steely Dan, the
Eagles, and Queen kept us company for the rest of the trip, saving
us from uncomfortable silence.

I was lost in thought, wondering what had
happened with Julia and if Brian really was okay, when the car
stopped and Quinn shut off the engine. I glanced up to watch Ashe
park the rental car beside us and then turned to look at the house.
My jaw dropped in utter awe.

When Quinn had said ‘safe house,’ I had
imagined an aging frame house, surrounded by similar houses, set
apart just enough to provide a safety buffer for the neighbors. I
couldn’t have been more wrong. The refuge that Quinn had found for
us was a massive lake house, modern and pristine. If we had
neighbors, they were well hidden behind the trees that lined the
distant edges of the property.

The inside of the house was even more
impressive than the outside. Here, where we could literally see
danger coming from half a mile away in any direction, we all began
to relax. Brian seemed more himself, though still shaky, and the
excitement of the morning had cleared London’s head, for now at
least.

After Quinn and Ashe made a quick sweep to
ensure the place was secure, we all grabbed a bag or two and headed
inside. Dylan and I dropped our stuff in the living room and
wandered through the house, leaving the menfolk to deal with the
rest of the luggage. With huge, open living spaces and four big
bedrooms, I felt certain we could all co-exist there without too
much cabin fever. All of the bedrooms were done up in neutral tones
– this was a safe house after all, not a family home. Two of the
bedrooms were set up with pairs of twin beds, the third had a queen
bed, and the master bedroom had the biggest bed I’d ever seen –
something bigger than a king bed.

“It’s London-sized,” Dylan said, drawing a
hint of a smile from me. “Guess you guys get this room.”

I shook my head. “It’s marathon-sex sized.
Totally meant for you and Brian.”

She laughed and went to look out the huge
windows while I turned and headed into the massive master
bathroom.

“Speaking of sex,” I called out, staring
around the tiled room.

Dylan stepped into the doorway and breathed,
“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

The over-sized shower with a rain showerhead
and body jets was enough to put thoughts in a girl’s head, but the
ginormous garden tub – more than big enough for two – sent my
imagination into overdrive. My whole body felt tingly and my heart
sped up. Then I remembered that London was off-limits and
sighed.

“Yeah, master suite is all yours,” I said,
and turned and walked away.

“Whoa, wait a minute.” Dylan caught me by the
arm. “What’s up?”

I gave her the condensed version of Ashe’s
theory about London and magic and sex, and she hugged me.

“I’m sorry, hon.”

I shrugged. “Sex isn’t everything, right?”
Dylan did her best Spock imitation – which isn’t very good at all –
and I said, “Just pretend, okay? I need the moral support.”

She smiled and patted my shoulder. “Whatever
gets you through the night.”

Once we had gotten the luggage sorted to the
appropriate rooms, Quinn gathered us all in the library – the kind
of library you read about in books but never really see, with
leather armchairs and shelves and shelves of books – and showed us
the monitors for the house’s state-of-the-art security camera
system.

“There are motion-activated lights on the
property as well, a double-perimeter of them,” he explained. “No
one can get close enough to disable the outer row of lights without
activating the inner row. We’ll take turns keeping an eye on the
monitors, at least until our backup gets here.”

Ashe agreed that it was a good idea, but
added, “I think we can give Brian and London a pass on this
one.”

Brian shook his head. “No. I’m all
right.”

Ashe started to protest, but Quinn stepped
in. “We’ll give you last shift. Give you a chance to recover.
You’ll need it, especially since I’m about to push you to tell us
what happened.”

With a tired sigh, Brian dropped into one of
the leather armchairs and leaned forward to sit with his forearms
resting on his thighs. Dylan sank down to sit at his feet, and he
lifted one hand to comb his fingers through her hair.

“Julia asked me to give London a message,” he
said.

London leaned back against the bookshelves,
wrapping his arms around himself in a straight-jacket-like hug.
“What message?”

“She said...she said to remind you what would
happen if you don’t help her.”

The color drained from London’s face and he
slid down the bookcase to sit huddled on the floor, the same way
I’d found him huddled against the headboard earlier that
morning.