STEP (The Senses) (21 page)

“Hey,” Delara called from the kitchen when she walked in. “Arrow’s here.”

Rayne walked into the kitchen, where Jedrik was standing with a beer in hand while leaning his tall lithe form against the counter. His dancing blond curls were untidy and his blue eyes were more mischievous than usual. She also noticed that Delara was more herself today, maybe because she had stayed in the past two nights.

Jedrik raised his be
er. “Looking positively ravishing, Rayne.”

Delara punched his arm playfully and he faked a wince. Rayne noticed the ease between them today, laughter in their expressions and comfortable with one another. She had once thought they were just friends, but in the
past few months, Jedrik had been popping by daily. Could their relationship have changed? Is that where Delara stayed every night?

“Thank
you,” she said. It was easier accepting compliments now.

Jedrik was non-threatening and easygoing. She’d learned to read people pretty damn fast in Anton’s compound
, and Jedrik had playfulness in his handsome face, but with it came arrogance. She didn’t doubt that he charmed thousands of women with a body like that and a smile that could melt a woman’s heart.

“Arrow was just leaving
, actually,” Delara said. “He promised to stop being a pain in our butts and keep his sorry ass from intruding whenever he feels like it.”

He shrugged. “Can’t help it. Two glorious damsels need a man around. However, you’re ri
ght, Sass, I have work to do.”

“Ha, you work?” Delara rolled her eyes behind Jedrik’s back while she put groceries away.

Jedrik chuckled and quirked his brows. “I work, just at something different than you do.”

“Yeah, you work at getting laid,” Delara retorted.

“Well, that’s hard work. Frig, not all women fall easily for my good looks. Some like to be wooed. Unlike you—falling for a guy who doesn’t even know the meaning of woo. And sleeping with another who—”

“Low blow
, asshole.” Delara threw a bag of frozen corn at his head. He caught it and set down on the kitchen table. “Shut up before I land you on your butt.”

Jedrik didn’t look the least bit concerned as he chugged back the rest of his beer. “So
, Rayne, how’s work in the gallery? Do you get what she’s saying in those paintings? Because man oh man, I don’t. To me they look like finger paintings.”

Delara huffed. “Yeah, because you’re such a child.”

Jedrik shrugged. “At least I don’t love a man who—”

Delara glowered. “Arrow! Leave it.”

Jedrik grabbed Delara around the waist and gave her a hug. It was a sweet gesture that had her wishing that she had that kind of friendship with another person. It was obvious from his comments that he wasn’t the one Delara alluded to loving.

Delara’s face instantly softened as she pushed him away. “Go. Get out of here. And don’t forget to call Damien. I’m not doing it this week. He nearly bit my head off last time I called. Seriously, that guy has major issues.”

“Have a little sympathy, Sass.” Jedrik gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Later Sassy One. See ya, Rayne. Ever need a man to—”

“Arrow!” Delara picked up a can of peaches and threw it at his head. Jedrik raised his hand and
caught it before the can hit his head. He grinned, revealing the dimples in his cheeks that would make women swoon with a mere lift of the corners of his mouth.

“Later
, gators.” Jedrik tossed the can back at Delara and then disappeared out the back door.

“So how was therapy? You look tired. You feeling okay?” Delara asked while continuing to put the groceries away.

“Good. Bad. Hard.” But the panic attacks were becoming less frequent, and she’d managed to keep to the meal plan all week. She moved to lean up against the counter where Jedrik had been and looked at Delara. This was the first time in months that Delara seemed approachable and relaxed. She wondered what had changed, if anything. “Where do you stay every night?”

Delara’s hand stopped midway to the cupboard with a can of tuna, tension in her shoulders, her back straightening. She set the can away and shut the cupboard before turning. “It’s a Senses thing, Rayne. I’ve never mentioned anything because I know you want to keep us and what we do out of your life.”

True, but Delara was her friend and if she could help, she would. “If you’re in trouble or if I can—”

“It’s nothing, okay
?” Delara changed the subject while putting the rest of the groceries away. The problem was she put the milk in the cupboard and the oranges in the freezer. “How about we go shopping then grab dinner? We both need new dresses for Danielle’s gala tomorrow night. And yes, you’re going. Mandatory for all employees.”

“I’m her only employee,” Rayne said.

“Yep, all the more reason that you have to go.”

Rayne made three hundred bucks a week working at Danielle’s and she was saving every cent. Leaving Toronto would eventually happen because one of these days the Senses were going to discover her capabilities and want her part of their fight. Every day she felt her powers shifting through her body
; it was as if they were slowly waking up from a long sleep. If she were right about the Senses, they’d soon feel the energy in her body and, when that time came, she’d have to disappear.

She’d never be a
part of that life and have to use her abilities again. Never.

****

Delara was intent on finding Rayne the sexiest dress in the city, and it was the hardest three hours of Delara’s life considering Rayne found imperfections with everything she tried on. Rayne was so obsessed with body image that it was difficult to even watch her try anything on.

Delara found a full-length silver
-sequined gown that had a beautiful V-neck and low dipped back. The silver would wash out Rayne’s features, but for her own dark skin tone, it was perfect. She motioned to Rayne that she was going to try it on and went into the changing room. She had no intention of buying anything, but tried it on to satisfy Rayne’s argument that if she had to try on sexy dresses, so did Delara. Fair enough.

“How is Rayne?”

Delara swung around at the sound of his deep emotionless voice. She’d felt the shift in the air, but hadn’t expected him to appear in a women’s changing room. “Shit, Pez. Rayne is just outside the door. You shouldn’t be here.” And the last place she wanted him was in close quarters. But Waleron had no qualms about doing whatever he felt like regardless of others’ feelings. She knew that firsthand.

His eyes roamed down her body and back up again. Suddenly she felt naked in the dress and wished she had something less revealing on. “It has been six months. Kilter rises from Rest tomorrow.” He spoke in his usual manner, cold and steady as a lamppost. If only she had the same unemotional attitude, she’d be a hell of a lot steadier at the moment. It pissed her off that every time he was near, her stomach flipped and her knees weakened. She could tell him to piss off, that she was over him but her body refused to listen
, and that made her angrier.

Sometimes she detested being a Senses and having that link to Waleron
. “She’s better. Gained weight. Steady on her feet. Panic attacks less every day. But I promised her we wouldn’t get her involved. She doesn’t want anything to do with the Senses.”

“She may not have a choice. Word is a GQ from the compound is roaming the streets, he has yet to kill any humans, but we need to cor
ral him before he makes a move on Rayne. I suspect it is the same one you encountered at the Talde house months ago.”

He had a point and it pissed her off. Waleron protected every Senses as if they were his lifeline. Actually, they were his lifeline. Screw with him and he’d retaliate, but he’d also risk life and limb to save your ass.

“Maybe he just wants to make certain she’s okay,” Delara said, although after the words left her mouth, they didn’t sit well. For years the GQ had watched Rayne being abused by her husband.

“There is unrest in the city,” Waleron said.

And that could be why Liam had asked her to stay away for the past three nights. “Shit,” she muttered. She had to find out what Liam was planning and fast. She wished she could inform Waleron about Abby, but he’d be obligated to tell Trinity and the witch-bitch would raise hell, something she did not need at the moment. Keep quiet until Abby was through detox—if she made it through. According to their last communication with Damien, it didn’t look so good.

Waleron’s brows raised a minute amount. She couldn’t care less that he hated her language. Screw him. “I called in Tye. Damien isn’t answering his phone or emails.” Oh shit. “We need more to hunt this GQ. And we need more information about him.”

She banged her head against the back of the change room. “Hence, interrogating Rayne.”

Waleron gave a curt nod.

“She’s so going to hate me,” Delara said. Waleron wouldn’t care if she had to break her promise to her friend and draw her into their web. He’d say it was for their benefit and therefore the right decision. Sometimes she wondered if that Lilac had cut out his heart and instilled an ice cube in its stead.

“Delara,” Waleron said
, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yeah, umm
, not sure what Rayne will do. Rebecca refuses to talk about her progress. Client confidentiality, something you might not understand. We could offer her a million bucks and she’d still keep what is said in session. I just don’t know how Rayne will react when we start digging up her time in the compound. It might be too much and she could regress.”

“We have no choice. Kilter will be offended at being put in Rest.”
Offended
would be an understatement, Delara thought. More like a volatile fireball that had a hate on for Senses. “He will contact Rayne.”

Delara fiddled with the sequ
ins on the dress. “I vote to keep him in Rest until this is over.” Okay, that wasn’t fair, but Kilter could be a pain in the butt. She felt Waleron’s eyes on her, watching every movement she made with his piercing blue eyes as she fiddled with the dress.

“Rayne has become his way of redeeming his past,” Waleron said. “He will fail.”

What she wanted to say was “Do you relate?” Instead, she turned around to reach for her clothes. Turning her back on him was always a mistake, considering her vulnerability with him inches behind her. So pathetic.

“You have what you need. I’m tired and in a foul mood. Now vamoose before some chick walks in here and freaks out. We’ll question Rayne after the gala. Let her have one night of fun before we blow up her world again.” His scent of fresh soap and odd iron sweetness sifted into her and she bit her lower lip to remember pain. He equaled pain. Then Rayne’s scent drew closer and she turned to glare at Waleron. “She’s coming, damn it. Leave before I have to explain you to her.”

Waleron walked over to the changing room door and opened it. Delara swore beneath her breath a sentence of words that Waleron would hate. What was he doing?

****

Damien sat on the old plaid lounge chair in the living room, his head between his hands, with the haunting screams echoing in his mind over and over again. Images of the chains straining against the delicate raw wrists. Her screams. Her pleading. And finally, the desperate sobbing that had sent him to his knees begging for her to stop.

The child. God, the baby was lost. To her. To him. To them.

His fingers gripped the roots of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. His insides were gutted with a hacksaw and strewn in every direction.

Damn it, he wasn’t prepared for anything like this. Could anyone
be? He ran his hands over his ragged face, made a deep growl and kicked out at the leg of the small coffee table. It collapsed under the jarring pressure and magazines slipped to the floor.

“Damn it!” He kicked the offensive table again.

He’d been on the phone with Anstice half the night. He begged and pleaded for her to come and assist and it took Keir getting on the phone and telling him off before he saw reason that it wasn’t safe for Anstice to be anywhere near Abby.

The blood. The image would haunt him for a lifetime. Copious amounts of blood that had him running to the bathroom and throwing up. The only thing that made him come back was Anstice’s patient and calm voice telling him what to do, never once breaking her serene tone when he flipped his lid, shouting at her that Abby was going to die. That it was too late.

But eventually the bleeding slowed and Abby ceased screaming, lying dazed and confused at what had transpired. He wondered if she even knew she had lost the baby last night. Often she had no recollection of the night before. He couldn’t tell her.
Don’t make me tell her
.

He’d sat beside the bed, insides twisted
while he watched Abby for hours, making certain the bleeding had stopped and that she was sleeping. Then he performed the grueling task of washing her body and changing the sheets. A chore that had him running to the bathroom spewing his guts out too many times to count. Even now, his throat was raw and he kept having to swallow the rising bile.