Evie's Knight (18 page)

Fragments of gravel crunched beneath Calvin’s shoes as he escorted Evie onto the dark lot. “Here, take my racquet and I’ll give you a rubdown.” As she took the racquet from him, he ran his gaze over her lovely face, liking the way her cheeks always blushed red from exertion.

Evie turned her back to him as they walked. “I’m loving that game,” she said. “And I’m getting better at it, right?”

Calvin pressed his fingers along the toned slope of her warm, slender arms, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. “You are getting better. And I’m sure all of these bruises will go away in no time,” he teased.

She sneered at him. “I hope you’ll still like playing me when I’m good enough to beat you.”

Calvin brought his chin to her shoulder. “Are you referring to the time when I’m too old and decrepit to even hold a racquet?” 

“Whatever. Only if you’re going to be old and decrepit by next week.” She rolled her neck as he moved his hands up to it. “You know, I’ve been sleeping so much better this week,” she said. “Racquetball takes a lot out of me. After a nice warm shower, I’m out for the night.”

“Same here,” Calvin said. Yet just as the words escaped him, ugly flashbacks of his terrifying dream rushed to the surface of his mind. Last night there’d been a new addition: As always, he’d been speeding over the canyon grounds, desperate to find and save Evie, but this time he had company–his grandfather was by his side, whispering words of a sentinel who was destined to help them.

It was strange: the dreams always seemed so real–like visions of what would come–and this one was no exception. Only now, in retrospect, Grandpa’s appearance made the whole scenario seem all the less likely. Just thinking back on it had him doubting the validity of the curse more than ever.

Evie suddenly stopped walking. “Fondue,” she blurted. “Are we still on for tomorrow night with Jess and Greg?”

“Of course. Parker and I should be back by 4:00 or so. We’re going up to Snowbird this time.”

“Is there even any snow left?” she asked.

He nodded. “There’s enough.”

When Evie reached the Jeep, she turned to him and leaned against it–a tempting piece of forbidden fruit. The streetlamps reflected a warm glow in the beautiful depths of her sea-colored eyes. “Hmm,” she said, “I’m glad you guys are getting along so well.”

He wanted to wrap his hands around her hips, kiss her long and hard, and feel the warmth of her body against his. Instead he opened her door and forced his mind back to the conversation. “Me too. I don’t want to jinx it, but I’d have to say this is the closest I’ve ever been to Parker. I think he’s finally starting to grow up.”

***

“The only thing better than melted cheese, is melted chocolate.” Evie reached for her skewer. The dinner plates had been cleared, and dessert had just arrived.

“So, let me get this straight. Evie could eat as much as her dad by the time she was ten?” Calvin looked amused.

Jessica laughed. “This girl could eat like a grown man before she was even a teenager. My dad thought there was something wrong with her.” She turned to her husband. “Did I ever tell you that, Greg?”

“No, but she can eat more than me, and that isn’t easy.” Greg sank a strawberry in the pot.

Evie shrugged. “They’re exaggerating. But, I
do
like to eat, there’s no denying it. Calvin already knows that about me by now. Sorry to disappoint you, Jess.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something that’ll make you blush. Just give me a minute.”

“Didn’t you tell me she put a kitten in the cooler?” Greg asked.

His question horrified Evie. “Oh, no. That one’s just sad,” she said. “Don’t tell that one.”

“You killed a kitten?” Calvin’s tone was thick with feigned shock.

“I thought it looked like the perfect little bed. How was I supposed to know? I was only five.”

“Mom kept complaining about the smell in the basement.” Jessica cringed.

Greg and Calvin moaned in disgust.

“Come on, we’re eating,” Evie said. Yet inwardly she was distracted–pulled into the memory of her mother. She looked at Jessica, noticed a length of unspoken emotion dancing in her eyes.

Calvin put his arm around Evie. “Can’t believe you killed a cat.”

“You know what? When your dad gets back, I’m going to get some dirt on you,” she warned.

A slight buzz sounded from under the table. Calvin pulled his phone from his pocket, gave it a quick glance, and pressed one of the keys. “Parker. I sent it to voicemail.” He slid it back in his pocket.

“Evie mentioned that your dad left on assignment,” Jessica said, coating a strawberry. “How much longer will he be gone?”

“About a month.” Calvin speared a piece of pineapple. “You have to try one of these.” He smothered the piece in the chocolate and fed it to Evie.

“Mmm.” She wiped a smudge off her lips. “I love that.”

“Awe, do you remember when we were like that, Babe?” Jessica asked Greg. “All cute and sweet and feeding each other?”

“What do you mean? We still are. See, this piece is just for you.” Greg fed her a coated slice of banana.

Calvin leaned over and whispered in Evie’s ear, “Years from now, when we’re married with kids, we’re still going to be cute and sweet and feeding each other. Right?”

“Right,” Evie said, loving the idea of being married to Calvin. Of having his kids.

Calvin’s phone buzzed once more. “Parker again. I’ll be quick.” Calvin excused himself from the table and walked across the crowded restaurant toward the lobby.

Evie tried to read Calvin’s body language as he spoke on the phone. It had been months since Parker had called him about some night-at-the-club gone wrong, but by the look on Calvin’s face, the rigid tightness in his posture, it seemed as if the streak was over.

He headed back to the table, an angry glare set in his eyes. “I apologize.” Calvin slid back into his seat. “That wasn’t Parker. It was his friend, Josh. Guess Parker got into a scuffle with some guy downtown. When that guy took off, Parker asked around, found out where he was heading, and followed him. Sounds like he’s looking for a fight.

“Anyway, Josh thinks he’s going to get himself killed. Said Parker’s already had too much to drink tonight.”

Evie didn’t like the sound of it. “Did he tell you where they were headed?”

He nodded. “It’s pretty close to here. In fact, I could probably beat him there if I wanted.”

She gulped through the thick knot of concern rising in her throat. She couldn’t blame Calvin for wanting to stop him, but in that moment, Evie couldn’t stand Parker. “Well,
is
that what you want to do?”

He shrugged. “No. I want to ignore the whole thing, but …” He broke off, running a hand through the dark strands of his hair. “If Parker’s going out of his way to hunt some guy down, you know it’s not going to be pretty.”

Evie pictured Calvin receiving a different kind of call–one that informed him Parker was dead. She didn’t want to be the reason Calvin stayed behind, but she worried for his safety too.

“If you ask me, I don’t think you should get involved. I mean, you could get
your
self killed.”

He remained quiet.

A band of guilt coiled around her neck. Only a brother could love Parker the way Calvin did. And Evie knew he watched over the rowdy punk for his father’s sake as much as his own. She sighed. “If you’re set on going, I can catch a ride home with Jess and Greg.” She glanced at the concerned-looking couple.

Greg nodded. “Of course, we can take her home. Go ahead, if you need to. It sounds important.”

Calvin gave Evie a fleeting glance, regret etched in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, coming to a stand. “I just don’t have a good feeling about this one.”

Me neither.
“Be careful.” She closed her eyes as he pressed his warm lips against her forehead.

“I will.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Bright signs lined the dark street as Calvin sped toward the bar, angry heat surging through every cell in his body. “Stupid idiot. Hate him.” He shifted gears and floored the pedal, cursing his punk brother every mile of the way.

Why had he believed that Parker had given up on this crap? Because he hadn’t called asking for help? That meant nothing. Parker hadn’t even called tonight–but apparently he was still up to his same old games. Calvin wished Josh hadn’t called him. He didn’t want to know about all the trouble his idiot older brother was getting himself into–was sick of trying to save Parker from himself.

After pulling into the small lot of the bar, he scanned over the sea of motorcycles and cars; Parker’s Cherokee was nowhere in sight. Good. At least he’d beaten him there. Calvin flashed his ID and made his way to a small table at the far end of the bar. From the dingy corner, he could see the door perfectly and nearly the rest of the small place as well.

By the looks of the dimly lit space, this bar drew a more mature crowd. Older women, grey-haired men with leather vests and facial hair. What Parker would call a biker bar. The energy was subdued. A relaxed bunch, looking only for a cold drink and a good time. Not Parker’s crowd.

His brother flocked with his own kind–rowdy and reckless, looking for action, which usually meant a fight. At the bars he frequented, there were always plenty of club-bouncers close by; Parker owed his life to them. This bar didn’t have any bouncers. Not much of a dance floor even. Just a small square of hardwood next to a battered jukebox that stood faithfully blasting some old rock and roll.

Calvin couldn’t imagine Parker starting something in a place like this. No one there would back up a fight-provoking punk like him. Calvin would definitely have to stop him before he could do any damage. But who was Parker after? Was his target already there? Calvin scanned the faces along the bar, looking for the one with the least amount of wrinkles and facial hair.

There was one man who didn’t quite fit in. One who stood out, the way he, himself must have. Probably in his mid-thirties, by the looks of him. The dark-haired man hovered over a half-empty beer mug, anxious fingers thrumming against the counter. He checked over his shoulder, took a swig of his drink, and looked back toward the door again.

That’s our man, Calvin decided, trying to imagine why Parker could have beef with him.

“Can I getcha a drink, Sugar?” a young waitress asked.

At the sound of her voice, a thick haze descended on Calvin like a blurry cloak, muting his senses. “No, thank you.” He moved his head to peek around her.

“Mind if I ask what you’re doin’ in here? You meetin’ somebody?” she pried in a southern tone.

He glanced back at the pale-skinned woman, a strange recognition kicking in. How did he know this girl? Narrow nose, light green eyes, strawberry hair that curled up at her shoulders. Nothing familiar there. Calvin dropped his gaze to the name printed on her shirt and sucked in a sharp breath of recollection.
Fiona.
A whispering voice swept through his head like a gust of wind, “She’s the one. The sentinel.” 

A wave of nauseating heat crept over his skin, settled on the back of his neck like a weight. He eyed the others in the bar, feeling as if she owned a secret, one that belonged to him. He was tempted to ask her something. But what?

Knock it off, Calvin.
The curse is crap and so are the stupid dreams.
He needed to find Parker, drive him home, and get back to Evie.

The sound of his brother’s voice cut into his thoughts.
Damn it!
He’d missed him. Calvin shot up to look past the waitress and saw Parker, fresh through the door, already challenging the exact man he’d suspected. Suddenly he felt torn, forced into choosing between Parker and the stranger. What if she
did
have answers for him? Answers he’d been seeking since he fell in love with Evie. Ones that might save her life.

“C’mon punk,” he heard his brother say. “Tried to make me look like a fool back there?” Calvin puzzled at the way he could hear him so clearly; there was still a large crowd between them.

He looked back to the waitress. “Just a minute.” He had to stop Parker before it got out of hand.

Parker stood close to the man, fists ready, rage pouring from his eyes.

The stranger cranked his arm back and took a swing.

The speeding fist barely grazed the top of Parker’s hair as he ducked, dodging the blow by an inch. A satisfied smile pulled at his lips as he shuffled into position, tossing the blond strands of his hair with the whip of his head.

Calvin shuffled toward the scene, bumping edges of tables and chairs along the way.

With a right hook, Parker cut through the man’s guarding fists and struck him square in the jaw. He swung again, but missed as his opponent slunk into some karate-looking pose. Great. Parker was in for it.

Calvin hesitated for a blink, wondering if he should let his stupid brother take more of a beating before he stepped in.

With the shift of his body, the stranger jabbed a hefty kick to the center of Parker’s gut. Parker bent in half at the blow as a wall of spectators flocked to the scene. Stretching to see over the crowd, Calvin saw Parker grab hold of the man’s boot with both hands. With what seemed like little effort, Parker hoisted the man up and sent him flying backwards, over the bar with impossible force. 

“No way,” Calvin quickened his pace with new desperation as the black-haired man crashed into the mirrored display, breaking the glass shelves that held beer mugs and shot glasses. Calvin’s eyes settled on a neon sign, cracked down the center. Half still clung to the broken mirror behind it, the other half dangled below, connected only by a small, glowing tube of lavender light.

Two men appeared on either side of Parker, attempting to restrain him. A giant of a man to his right, a thinner man to his left. Calvin was closer now, but the growing mass of bodies blocked him as he made his way to the scene. Parker wrenched his arm back, and, with his elbow, jabbed the man to his right in the face.

The giant must’ve weighed twice as much as Parker, but the blow sent him flying across the bar where he landed atop a pool table, blood spurting from his nose.