Ryder on the Storm (5 page)

Kell and Pollux were another matter; Ryder had always been friendly with the pair. True brothers, Kell and Pollux had been born to a Scottish lord and a milking wench, or so they claimed. They were the youngest Immortals known to the brethren. They still wore their long auburn hair in plaits and as often as possible donned their family kilts. Ryder himself had found them in the Scottish foothills during one of the many Scotch uprisings. He’d been the one to teach them the rules, to train them in the ways of the Immortal life. Ryder found it quite odd that Roane had selected Kell and Pollux for this meeting, whatever his intention may be. He grinned broadly at the pair, both sporting stylish kilts and plain white tees with loosely laced biker boots. As usual, their outfits were coordinated nicely. Two pair of emerald green eyes twinkled back, admiration apparent.

“What happened to basic pleasantries? Right in to business these days, Roane? That’s never been our way, brother.” Lucian moved to embrace Kell and Pollux, held his hand out to Roane who looked at it blankly for a moment before shaking it.

Leave it to Lucian to not only break the tension but also give Ryder a moment to strategize. Roane’s steely gray eyes bored into him as he exchanged pleasantries with the brothers. Ryder took a step back and offered his hand to Roane. He was met with the same blank stare and a stiff handshake.

“In my brief I detailed the entire situation Roane. I would have thought that sufficient for the Council.” Ryder held Roane’s gaze, neither one betraying their thoughts. The silent standoff continued for several minutes, each trying to glean something from the other.

“We frown on the part where you left a Sullivan alive and lost one of our familiars. The Council has sent me to review the situation in person and to offer assistance in the matter of the familiar.” Roane looked for a moment as though he tasted something sour. Ryder knew well the man’s distaste for familiars. He disagreed vehemently with the Council’s decision to continue the practice of employing familiars; insistent that nobody outside the brethren should have knowledge of their existence. Roane preferred to reside in a monastery with the monks who maintained and protected the Immortal doctrines. He even disliked the monks, refused to dine or socialize with them at all. Ryder wondered at what divine plan would offer immortality to such a man.

“It was unfortunate to lose a familiar in the effort, but as is the way with mortals, he fell in love with the wrong woman. Trin Sullivan was not without her charms.” Roane forced his face to remain smooth, “as for the Sullivan girl, she shows no sign of having the Sight. Trin put her out of the family home several years ago and the child never learned their ways or their history. Still, I have eyes on her just in case. If she shows signs of the Sight then I will put her down as well.”

“Excellent. Nicely done Ry. Kell, Pollux, care to join me inside for another drink? There were some lovely females just ravenous for your attention.” Lucian wagged his eyebrows at the brothers and pulled the steel door open. “Ry, Roane, shall we take this party inside and enjoy this glorious evening?”

The brothers shrugged, Roane grimaced, and Ryder felt himself stifling a laugh. He felt gratitude for Lucian’s presence. Ryder nodded in agreement and followed Lucian back into the club, the brothers on his heels and Roane bringing up the rear.

In their brief absence, the club had become even more packed. For a brief moment Ryder considered occupancy codes but let that thought go and forced himself into the situation at hand. He felt Roane watching every move, something was still wrong. He could not put his finger on it, but something about Roane’s visit seemed off. Ryder motioned to Baron for five drinks and herded his visitors back to the corner booth. The youngsters were eyeballing the crowd, their eyes clearly betraying their intentions. The football team took their blondes and slipped out the VIP exit, clearly tired of corralling the ladies and knowing better than to take on the five Immortals. At least a dozen more scantily clad women acknowledged Ryder’s table. Tonight should definitely be interesting.

Baron approached with five microbrews, Ryder’s own creation – a cocoa porter he’d been perfecting for a few decades. Baron had managed to make it popular in recent months, urging it upon the clientele as often as possible. Kell nodded appreciatively and returned to eyeing the crowd. A petite woman with a fuchsia punk cut and matching spandex dress approached their table. Her makeup appeared almost clown-like and what little cleavage she possessed had been squeezed upward. Giggling like a child, she asked the brothers what they wore under their kilts. Pollux took a deep swig from his beer and slid out of the booth, “Well, lass, if ye’ play yer cards right I may let ye look for yerself.” The giggling only multiplied from there as he swept her back onto the dance floor with her legs about his waist.

“Well, that’s my cue to pick a lass of my own. Thanks for the beer, Ryder. How about lunch tomorrow?” Kell looked to him in earnest and Ryder nodded in acceptance. Kell disappeared into the crowd in moments.

“And then there were three.” Lucian studied his beer bottle. “I think this recipe is perfect, brother. Just the right balance, how long did it take?”

Nicely done, Lucian. I owe you one. “About three decades or so. I am pleased you like it.”

“What do you think, Roane?” Lucian did not even look to Roane as he addressed the third, silent member of their remaining party.

Roane tore his gaze from Ryder’s face and looked to Lucian, clearly surprised by his inclusion in the conversation. He masked his reaction quickly and responded stiffly, “It is not unpleasant. I appreciate the hint of cocoa.”

Thankfully, Lucian managed to control the conversation for the next hour and a half, small talk, sports, past battles they’d fought in, the usual. Ryder thought about the redhead, she had to be Trin’s niece. Nobody but the Sullivans had hair that color. There was more to it of course, but hard to decipher since he could not manage a good read on the girl. She knew him somehow, he felt the recognition pass over her. How had the watchers been wrong? He would have to do some reconnaissance himself. If he could just get rid of Roane. Lucian caught his eye and broke the train of thought with a meaningful glance. Roane was studying him as well, curiosity flickered across his face.

“You alright, brother?”

“Yes, I am just growing tired. And I was trying to recall what meetings I have tomorrow.”

“Cancel them all. I am certain you have some eager assistant who can handle it all in your stead. You agreed to lunch with the boys and I am in town. Let’s party late and sleep late and then we can dine at that fabulous bistro you were telling me about on the way here.”

“You are incorrigible, Lucian. Truly. We are not all nomads and I have businesses to run.” Ryder noticed Roane’s sudden disinterest in the conversation and relaxed his grip on the near empty beer bottle. He had not realized the amount of tension in his body until that moment.

“Your businesses are not going anywhere. You are not going under if you miss one appointment. Come on, brother, five Immortals in one town, let’s paint it black.”

“I believe the saying is ‘paint it red.’ I will call to my assistant and have her handle it. You are as bad an influence as ever.”

“Indeed I am, and you need to have more fun my somber friend.”

Fun indeed. The rest of the evening passed as a blur, but Roane remained with them and quite silent for the interim. Ryder felt unsettled for the first time since he’d met Roane and grateful to part ways at the club’s front door. Fortunately, Roane had secured a suite at an area motel. It would not do for that man to be roaming the manor. Ryder had no Sight but even he could sense a storm brewing.

Storm

The guys stayed over. It would have been better if they’d slept in one of the spare bedrooms instead of on either side of her, but, since they didn’t try anything she let it go. Storm woke to the smell of pancakes and bacon. She opened her eyes to Shane’s sleeping form, the pillow damp from his drool. Of course Dan would be cooking breakfast, his claim to fame with the ladies as he told it. Storm slipped backward out of bed and pulled on the lounge clothes from the day before. She probably should have been shocked that the guys had stripped her down to bra and panties but her stomach rumbled in response to the scent of bacon so the thought evaporated quickly.

In the kitchen, Dan had laid out plates and silverware, the same ones she’d used as a child. Pancakes were stacked on a serving plate in the middle of the breakfast bar and he was dumping slices of bacon onto another plate.

“Coffee is just about ready. There are also some berries draining in the sink, I got a medley for you. Is Shane still sleeping?”

“Yes, drool and all. He will have to wash that pillowcase. I am not okay with boy smell where I sleep.” Storm grabbed a slice of bacon simultaneously spearing a pancake as she slid onto the nearest stool. “This is delightful Dan, really. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. You’ve had a rough go of things lately. This is what friends do, darlin’ and I am your friend.” Dan poured a cup of coffee, added some creamer and set it next to her. “Is there anything else I can do? When Shaner gets up we can unload but is there anything you want us to take away while we have the truck? I mean, are you going to keep all this?”

“I don’t know Dan. I think I am going to have to just go one room at a time. Maybe I’ll get one of those Pod things and just shift stuff in there as I decide to get rid of it. I don’t know. This hasn’t really settled in yet, I guess. I really appreciate everything you two have done. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t. We both love you, always have. We are here for you, anything you need, just ask.” Dan reached over and touched her hand, his gaze intense. Storm wanted so badly to feel something when she looked at him, to return the affection he clearly felt for her. It just wasn’t there. She couldn’t conjure it. She’d tried.

“Alright! Bacon and pancakes! Good call, bro!” Shane emerged in boxer briefs, his hair a tousled mess. Storm withdrew her hand from under Dan’s and smiled broadly.

“I was just thanking Dan for all you two have done for me. I owe you both.”

“And I was just telling her that she doesn’t owe us anything.”

“Damn straight, Storm! We do this out of love!” Shane leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “Face it, kid, you are stuck with us for the long haul!”

Storm smiled, this is how her life should be. Laughter and friends over breakfast after a night on the town, easy like a Sunday morning, just like the Commodores said. Was it the Commodores? It felt good to relax. They were good for her. Breakfast felt easy, they recanted old times, the many antics of their childhood and adolescence. When they were full the trio set to cleaning up and ended up in a dish soap fight which in turn ended in a sticky, wet mess on the kitchen floor. Storm extracted herself from the small scrum, steadying herself at the breakfast bar, her hair dripping with soapy water.

“Okay, okay! You two start unloading the truck; everything is labeled so it should be easy. I am going to clean up this mess. Then we will get cleaned up and go out to eat, my treat!”

“Yes, ma’am, we are on it.” Dan bowed comically and slipped on his way out. Shane made to follow him and then remembered his lack of clothing.

Storm set to wiping up the mess, those boys sure could put away some food. Normalcy, she stopped to relish the thought for a moment and then slid the last dish in the dishwasher. Everything went white, Storm fell to her knees. Shit, not now. Then pain, that wretched, searing pain. Dammit.

When she woke, Storm found herself propped against Shane, his arms around her, still on the floor. “I think it is time we had a talk, Storm. A real talk. You can’t hide this anymore, and you shouldn’t have to. Not from us. Why don’t we stay in tonight?”

Too drained to register the full meaning of his words, Storm simply nodded against his chest. She allowed him to stand. Shane lifted her easily, as if she were weightless, and carried her upstairs.

“I am going to help Dan unload the rest of your stuff and by then you should be rejuvenated so we can have that talk.” Shane pulled the quilt over her and kissed her forehead lightly. “Oh, and don’t try slipping out. We will find you. No more avoiding this, babe.”

Storm drifted off, her dreams a strange kaleidoscope of faces and colors. Trin kept telling her to listen, to see, and to feel. She awoke with Trin’s perfume in her nose. She’d been there. Somehow Trin had been there. Damn. Creepy. The thought passed quickly as she was interrupted by a sexy tenor.

“Afternoon, sunshine. How about you hop out of bed, shower up, and meet us in the study in ten?” Dan looked down at her, his expression unreadable but not unpleasant. The sunlight from the window cast a long shadow across the room. For a second she swore there were wings protruding from the shadow’s back. She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, closed her mouth, and nodded her agreement instead. Storm rubbed at her eyes, still feeling heavy from the sleep.

“Shower, dress, study in ten minutes. Will do, boss. But, what is this all about? I am not used to you two being so serious.”

“Quit stalling and clean up.” Dan already smelled clean, his hair still damp and clean clothes had replaced the dish soap outfit. Man did he smell good, sweet and clean and somehow a little spicy. “Now, Storm.” If not for his smile, Storm may have been a bit intimidated.