Guardian (The Protectors Series) (6 page)

The footsteps stopped at her booth. Stefan tugged the curtain aside and smiled at her. “You’re awake. Good.”

Despite everything, seeing him made her feel safer, and that smile of his made her lips curve and her heart flutter. Ignoring the unfortunate kick in her pulse, she said, “I’m ready to go.”

“I figured you would be, but let’s check a couple of things first.”

He might be coming across like Dr. Easy and Relaxed, but there’d been steel under his words. Authority rang in every line of his body, an impression of power that owed nothing to his starched, white coat.

“How’s that man, Boone, from the house?”

“I can tell you he’s stable since that’ll be in the
Oracle
tomorrow.”

“That’s good.”

“He’s lucky you arrived when you did.” Stefan drew a penlight from the pocket of his lab coat and aimed it at her right eye. “Look at me.” Watching her face, he clicked the light on.

It glared in Mel’s eye, but she knew better than to move.

After a moment, he repeated the process with her left eye. Frowning, he said, “Your pupils are still a little slow to react.”

“But better, right? I could go?” Despite the
ka-thud, ka-thud
rolling through her skull.

“We’ll see.” He gave her arm a quick, encouraging squeeze that raised heat between her legs.
Damn it
. Mel pressed her thighs together and took a slow breath.

Stefan raised his right index finger in front of his face. “Keep your head still and watch my finger.” He moved it slowly from left to right and back again, then up and down.

“You’re tracking well,” he said. “Now—”

“Can’t you just sign me out? Or maybe I can sign myself out.”

“Not a great idea. You took a blow to the head. Your CT scan is more or less normal, but you weren’t entirely lucid in the ambulance or for a while after admission. You also didn’t know what month it was when you arrived here, though you answered the nurse’s questions correctly after the scan.”

The CT scan was still a memory blank.
Shit
.

Her confusion must’ve shown, for Stefan frowned. “You don’t remember.” His flat tone left no room for her to maneuver. “That’s a sign of post-concussion syndrome.”

“That’ll pass, right?” Mel said over the cold stab of panic in her chest. She couldn’t have a serious concussion, not with Cinda’s murder unsolved.

“It’ll pass, yes, but not quickly. It’s also nothing to screw around with. I’d like to keep you for observation.”

“No.” The word escaped, fear-laden, before she could think. Judging by Stefan’s raised eyebrows, he’d noted the tone. Mel took a deep breath and fought to level her voice. “I’d rather go back to my room.”

“At a motel.” He shook his head. “You could be cloudy-headed for a few days. Someone should check you at intervals to be sure you’re lucid.”

“I’ll set my phone alarm. If I feel funny, I’ll come back.”

Her gaze locked with his stern one. At last, he said, “That’s not good enough, Mel. Part of post-concussion confusion is failure to realize the confusion.”

He was going to try to keep her. That meant professional sympathy, a sterile room, just like the night her mom’s delusions had finally snapped into full-time psychosis. Mel shuddered. If she stayed here, the memories would swamp her.
I can’t do this.

“If there’s a fellow agent here,” Stefan began. He paused, studying her. “There isn’t, though. Is there?”

Her face must’ve given her away. Blast it, she controlled her expression around dope dealers and embezzlers. Why the hell could he see through her after all this time? Why couldn’t she lie to him? He’d had no trouble deceiving her when they were together. A wave of remembered pain swamped the warm feeling she’d been having toward him, but still the words she needed simply would not come.

Stefan nodded. “I know you law enforcement types hate being fussed over, but if there’s something wrong and we don’t catch it in time—”

“I can’t stay here,” she blurted.

Only the dregs of her pride stopped the rest,
You know why I can’t stay
. Once, he’d known. He probably had forgotten.

Stefan’s head lifted a fraction. She saw the memory click in the softening around his eyes. He was one of the few people she had told about her mother’s slow progression to insanity and subsequent institutionalization. At least he didn’t say what was on her mind, that an FBI agent should have more grit. Shame burned in her throat, but she could live with that.

Mel swallowed hard. “I’ll sign myself out against medical advice if I have to.”

“Then go back into the field, investigate and patrol?” His expression hardened. “No.”

Considering how chummy he and Dan Burton were, Stefan could enforce that. The burn now came from gut-level frustration and pure hatred of being trapped.

Holding her gaze, he said, “You can’t tell me your head doesn’t hurt. You’re about the color of the sheet on that gurney, and the pinched look around your mouth is a dead giveaway.”

“You know the old saying, ‘If you can’t play hurt, you can’t play.’ I can.” She had to convince him, or he’d stymie her efforts to work Cinda’s case. If he decided she wasn’t lucid, he could refuse to release her weapons to her.

“I know,” he said gently. “The whole business isn’t fair, but you don’t want to risk brain damage.”

His sympathy grated far more than his opposition. “There has to be another choice.”

He hesitated. “We need to run those questions again.”

“I’ve answered them twice now.”

“But only once correctly.” Stefan raised an eyebrow. “Do you never go back over something with a witness?”

“Sometimes.” Damn it.

As she’d expected, he said, “There’s a purpose here, too. So I’ll ask again, and if your answers are okay, I’ll make you a deal. You let me wake you up every three hours, and I’ll take a room at the motel.”

Talk to him in her motel room? In the intimate darkness of the night? She and Stefan had shared a motel room once, when they’d gone to see the London Symphony on tour in Richmond, Virginia. Memory washed over her, of him rolling her beneath him, sliding into her, touching her everywhere while she’d reveled in the passion surging between them.

Mel’s cheeks heated. Before she could shove the memory away, his eyebrow shot up.

Cheeks still burning, she managed to shrug. He hadn’t meant anything by the offer. The conk on the head had stirred up ideas she didn’t need.

“No,” she said, staring at the wall above his head. “Thanks.”

“You have limited choices. Refuse that one, and you’re left with signing out AMA, and without the medical clearance Dan Burton will want before he puts you back in the field. Or you can stay tonight and maybe tomorrow night.” He raised an eyebrow, his face stony. “What’ll it be?”

Damn it.
She took a deep breath and made herself meet his gaze. Stefan went all cold and grim like that when he was angry or hurt. Maybe he still resented her for calling him on his lies and bailing. Regardless, there was no point in the two of them spending more time together than they had to.

“Do you truly think,” he asked softly, “you can’t trust me in your motel room?”

Mel sighed. He’d taken her refusal personally, but why would he care what she thought? “Of course not. I just don’t see why you’d offer.”

“Because I understand how you feel. Because…” He hesitated, frowning. Slowly, he finished, “You aren’t just another patient. No matter how things ended for us.”

Not just another patient?
Her pulse kicked again, and that was silly. He was invoking old times, not old feelings. His grave eyes stayed on her face, with nothing loverlike or remotely tender in them. Maybe he felt he owed her for cheating on her way back when.

But she didn’t want to dig into that old mess, hated that this situation kept taking her back and bringing up the ugly waves of hurt. Getting to the point of not thinking about Stefan every day had taken her two years, and now here he was again. Merely being around him seemed to stir up the pain she’d locked away.

Whatever his reason, she had little choice about his offer. She needed out of here. Once she was in her motel room, alone, she could straighten out her head.

“Okay, then.” Mel blew out a breath that did little to ease her frustration or the new tension between her and Stefan. “I’ll take the deal. Thanks.”

It was only for one night. She could handle that.

T
he
brrrrp, brrrrp
of a phone jolted Mel awake. She grabbed her cell. “Wray. Go ahead.”

The phone rang again, louder and shriller than her cell. Grabbing the receiver, she came to full alertness. This would be Stefan calling to check on her.

Her breath hitched. So not good. “Hello.”

“Sounds like I woke you, but you answered fast. That’s a good sign.”

He sounded extremely chipper for a man who’d rolled out of bed to make a four a.m. phone call.

“Thanks. So can I go back to sleep now?”

“Not yet. I’m outside your door. You want to let me in?”

The mere idea of talking to him in her bedroom was generating eager little quivers deep within her. Her body remembered too well what he could do in bed. She wanted to ignore him, but she’d promised to cooperate. “Okay. Hanging up now.”

With a sigh, she rolled to her feet. The pale blue camisole she wore as a pajama top was too revealing without a bra. Mel grabbed a hoodie from a dresser drawer and tugged it on. The loose, blue drawstring pants qualified as decent.

Despite light from the exterior walkway filtering between the curtains, the room was dark. Snapping on the dresser lamp fixed that but left her blinking against the brightness. She slid the chain off, flipped the bolt, and opened the door.

Stefan smiled at her and stuck his phone in his jeans pocket. A navy blue Atlanta Braves T-shirt stretched across his chest and emphasized the muscles of his shoulders and arms. Barefoot, with his hair rumpled, he reminded her so much of the man she’d known that her heart twisted with longing.

“Not having trouble with the locks is another good sign,” he said in a low voice probably intended to keep from disturbing her neighbors.

His soft tones sent shivers through her belly. Silently, Mel stepped back for Stefan to enter.

Closing the door behind him, she said, “Have a seat.”

“Thanks, but I figure you want to get this done as soon as we can. Tell me today’s date?”

“Thursday, September twenty-seventh.” She jammed her hands in the hoodie pockets. Sleepiness had fled. With him here, she felt alert. Happy.

And that was so completely pointless.

“Good.” Stefan nodded. With his thumbs hooked into his pockets and his stance relaxed, he seemed completely at ease.

That was so not fair when she felt fidgety.

He thought for a moment before asking, “What famous piece of classical music comes from Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony?”

“The ‘Ode to Joy.’” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re tossing me easy ones, Stefan.”

His grin made her mouth go dry and heat simmer deep inside her. That damned knock on the head had her overreacting.

At least he didn’t seem to notice. “What’s your favorite sport?”

“For watching, college basketball. For exercise, running.” When he frowned, she added, “Used to be swimming.”

They’d gone swimming together, finding excuses to brush against each other in the water. Was he remembering that, too? His face gave no sign either way.

“Okay,” he said. “Can you recite the Miranda warning?”

“Yes, but if I screw it up, how will you know?”

“You’d be surprised what I know.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing half-smile that pinched her heart. “Let’s hear it.”

Mel rolled her eyes to cover her unwelcome reaction. “You have the right to remain silent,” she began. The rest of it came easily, and she concluded, “I’ve said it often enough.”

He shrugged. “Probably true. Anyway, you nailed it, and before you ask, I know it because my sister’s a lawyer and married to a prosecutor.”

“Annie,” Mel remembered. Stefan’s sister had never liked her, but ingrained manners prompted her to ask, “How is she?”

“She’s good, thanks. They live in Colorado Springs and have two great kids. Boy and girl twins.” He hesitated. “Your folks—”

“They’re the same.” He knew how tense her relationship with her family was. He shouldn’t have asked.

Of course, she’d opened the door with her question about his sister. Wincing inwardly, she added, “Mom is still at Dix Hospital in Raleigh. I doubt they’ll ever release her.” Thanks to her delusions about paranormal powers. “Dad works the farm, though Lily and her husband take care of the heavy jobs.”

“I’m sorry your mom isn’t better.” He hesitated, as though he meant to say something else, but shut his mouth firmly.

They stared at each other, tension crackling between them. Did he remember, as she did, how painful she’d found telling him about her family? Did the memory rake his heart as it did hers? He couldn’t have faked everything, even though she’d told herself otherwise in the aftermath of the breakup. In hindsight, she realized he probably had cared, at some point. Just not enough to fight for her, fight for what they had.

At last, he said, “We’ve done enough of this for now. I should let you get back to bed.”

“You could probably use the sleep, too.” When he shrugged, she asked, “Stefan, why are you doing this for me?”

“Why not?” he asked, staring hard at her. “This means a lot to you. Why wouldn’t I help you out?”

Crap
. Answering that would involve digging up ancient history. She shouldn’t have questioned him. “Never mind. I’m grateful. Let’s leave it there.”

He said nothing for several seconds. That keen look made her feel like a germ under a microscope. Damn it.

“It’s a reasonable question,” she insisted, “considering we didn’t exactly part as friends.”

“Uh-huh.” He maintained the hard stare and the low, lethal tone. “Why do you think I’m helping you?”

“I don’t know. I just…if you think you owe me—”

“Owe you?” He ground the words out. “If anyone owes anyone, Ms. Wray…” His jaw set. After a moment, he said, “Let’s not get into a pissing match over the past.”

“Let’s not.” He couldn’t mean she owed him, not when she’d been the wronged party. Arguing, though, would only increase the strain between them. “Let me just say thank you, and we can drop it.”

He crossed his arms, his face still stony. “I would’ve done this for any colleague in your situation.”

“Okay.” Mel raised her hands, palms out, in token surrender. “Maybe you would. I have no reason to doubt that.” Or to feel that nip of hurt over it, but that was her business, her private moment of lunacy.

“Fine.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll be back in three hours.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She followed him to the door.

With his hand on the knob, he turned to her. His face had softened, and his eyes held an odd light. Was it sadness? “Who sings ‘If Ever I Would Leave You’ in
Camelot
?”

“Lancelot.” She answered without thinking.

“Right. See you in a little while.” Stefan’s glance flicked over her face. “Get some rest.”

As the door closed behind him, Mel thought about the
Camelot
tickets he’d bought for her twenty-first birthday. They’d enjoyed each other so much that day, watching the show, splurging on a dinner out. That night, after they’d made love, he’d quietly sung that song to her and seduced her again.

For the first time in years, the soft, bitter shroud of grief for what she’d thought they had brushed over her heart. Biting her lip, Mel forced the memories back. He’d evoked them on purpose, she was sure. But why? To punish her? To yank her chain? The odd, almost sad light in his eyes argued otherwise.

Calling up the past would only make things more difficult between them, and being around him was tough enough already. She had to keep everything focused on the case.

Damned prickly woman. Why couldn’t she just accept a favor, not examine it nineteen different ways?

Scowling, Stefan let himself into his motel room.

Of course, she’d always been like that, except where music was concerned. She didn’t trust anyone to want to help her, merely for the sake of helping. That was probably because of the ostracism and petty tricks she’d suffered growing up. But music had been her safe zone. When she played or sang, she dropped her barriers and let her true, bright self show.

Being around her made him wish he’d handled things differently in the past.

He shook his head. Done was done.

Yet he’d managed to forget their estrangement for a few minutes in that dimly lit, intimate hotel room. Remembering what her loose pajamas concealed had made him ache to touch her. That didn’t speak well for his sanity. Every barrier that had ever stood between them remained in place. At least her spurt of temper had irritated him, trumping his arousal.

Better to think about the encounter at Wiley’s, though that only raised new questions. Ghouls ordinarily screened their encounters with Mundanes. Screening deflected not only normal vision but magical scrying. Yet this ghoul hadn’t bothered. Then there were the purple eyes, signs of Void demon possession, except there’d been no brimstone stench. And that muddy shield aura was pure ghoul.

He glanced at his watch. Four twenty a.m., too early to call Will Davis, the Collegium’s assistant loremaster and an ace researcher. An e-mail, though, wouldn’t disturb Will’s sleep. Stefan sent a quick one telling Will about the ghoul’s appearance and behavior.

A couple of minutes later, as he turned back the bed linens, his cell phone rang.

Will’s face showed on the screen. Dropping onto the bed, Stefan swiped the screen and took the call. “Hey. What’re you doing?”

“Playing computer chess until I got your message. That’s seriously weird shit, bro.”

“Tell me about it. And I’m hoping you can.”

Will groaned, and Stefan could almost see him at his computer, his tall frame kicked back in the chair, feet on the desk, keyboard in his lap. His longish blond hair would be rumpled from his hands running through it while he thought, and he probably needed a shave. At first glance, no one would suspect he had a laser-sharp brain or imagine he’d earned two doctoral degrees, in history and archaeology, before his twenty-seventh birthday.

Stefan continued, “If you’re playing chess, your date must not’ve gone well. What was her name? Sarah, Cindy, something like that?”

“Kara. The date was great, but the lady, alas, is looking for permanence.”

“Which you’re not.”

“Y’know, your amazing talent for remembering names may explain why you have the social life of a brick.”

“I date.” Some. “But we’re not talking about me. Ghouls, Will. Possible Void demon possession. Focus. Unless not getting laid tonight has warped your brain.”

“As if.” Will chuckled. “Control your jealousy. The lovely Kara might be your type, Doc Sobersides. We agreed this was a mistake, but she’s funny and smart as well as hot. I can set you up if you want.”

Yeah. Like Stefan wanted to be somebody’s consolation prize. “What I need right now are answers, not a social commitment. If there’s a Void demon running around, we have to find it before it unleashes another Black Death or something worse.”

Void demons, unlike those from the earthly plane, were stronger than any three mages. They were also more analytical and disciplined than ghouls. They’d managed to open a portal to Earth in 1347, unleashing the plague. The battle to drive them back had scoured croplands, destroyed parts of cities, and killed hundreds of people as well as exposing the mageborn’s power to Mundane neighbors who reacted with hysterical violence. All of which Will shouldn’t need reminding about.

“Yeah, okay.” Will’s voice sobered. “I’ll see what I can find, though I doubt it’ll be much. I may shoot an e-mail to my new pen pal in Finland and see what his library can offer us.”

“That’d be great.” It was also a much better topic for conversation than Stefan’s admittedly sparse love life.

“How’s the victim?” Will asked.

“I had a few minutes alone with him on arrival in the ER and was able to draw most of the venom from his blood. He should be okay. I got a blood sample but haven’t had a chance to analyze it yet.”

“Curing the guy’s more important. How’s the Fed? Was he hurt badly?”

“She, and no. She has a mild concussion.”

“A female Fed, huh? Is she hot?”

Yes
. But Will wasn’t adding Mel to his lengthy string. “Will, damn it—”

“Just yanking your chain.” A chuckle came over the phone. “Seriously, I hope she’s okay. If you notice anything else weird, let me know. I think my Finnish pal will find all of this very interesting.”

Now they were back on solid ground. “Does this guy have a name? I’ve never heard you mention one.”

“Yeah, it’s Jonas Takala. I’m slammed in the morning, but I’m off this afternoon, so I’ll dig around.”

“Thanks, Will.”

“Anytime.” Will paused. “You’d thank me for setting you up with Kara, too, so let me know when.” Before Stefan could answer, Will disconnected.

Scowling, Stefan set the phone aside. If he wanted a date, he could arrange it himself.

Between patching up wounded mages and writing the occasional research paper, he had little time to waste on dates that went nowhere, as most of them did. Will had an easier approach. He found women he enjoyed, kept everything light within the confines of serial monogamy, and thus had enjoyed numerous
friends with benefits
.

And he didn’t have to worry about the protocols for explaining magic to a Mundane.

That lifestyle seemed to suit him, but it would make Stefan nuts very quickly. It wouldn’t suit Mel, either, unless she’d changed.

He grimaced. What suited her or didn’t wasn’t his concern. Asking that
Camelot
question hadn’t been wise. She’d made him think of things he usually avoided, like how good they’d been together and how much he’d wanted what he thought they had.

Moron
. He knew better than to waste energy on might-have-beens.

She hadn’t blinked at the question, so she must be as over all that as he’d assumed he was. Good for her. He’d moved on, too…hadn’t he?

Standing on the Burke Street sidewalk, Mel waved good-bye to young Deputy Mitchell as his cruiser cut a U-turn. She’d tried to accept with good grace Stefan’s benching her for the day. At least he’d let her leave the motel and had dangled before her the possibility of light duty, meaning nothing that could involve firearms or physical confrontation, tomorrow. Assuming she could convince him she was hitting on all cylinders today.