Three Wishes (4 page)

“Is that what you call them, the people you look after? Charges?”

Sadness shifted across his expression and vanished. “It’s a distancing name, isn’t it? Charges, not people or souls. I’m tired.”

“So take a holiday,” she said flippantly. It scared her to be trusted with this personal insight. Then she realized what she’d said and grinned. “Take the holiday now. I’ll
take care of
David.”

Andrew’s expressionless mask fractured. He returned her grin. “Very clever, love. But not bloody likely.”

Humor made his square face startlingly attractive. Cali shook off the thought. “Been visiting Britain, love?” She mocked his word choice.

“I visit everywhere. And maybe I simply like calling you ‘love.’”

The casual comment froze her. “I’m a djinni, Andrew. No one calls me ‘love.’”

“I’m a natural rule breaker.”

“You don’t look it.” She recalled the angel self he’d revealed on the beach. The image superimposed itself on his current army fatigues. Either way, he looked uncompromising, a guardian to the core of his being.

Abruptly, she wearied of the conversation.

“Good night, Andrew.” She whisked into her bottle.

“Good night, Cali love.” His voice followed her. “Breakfast is at 6 a.m.”

She blew a raspberry he couldn’t possibly hear, angel powers or not.

“Or don’t you want to see the locals marvel at your castle? Or watch David try to answer their questions?”

Well, actually she did. And the locals were early risers. They would be babbling and marveling about the castle’s restoration. Her work. It was good work too.

“Besides.” Andrew’s voice teased across her nerves. “David’s going to have an unexpected visitor.”

She listened for more, but he was silent. She popped her head out of the bottle. David’s room was empty. Andrew had gone.

“Damn the angel.” Now she’d lost him and David. Where had they gone? She thought about pursuing them and decided it would give Andrew too much satisfaction.

“Imagine calling me ‘love,’” she grumbled. “Love.” The word wrapped around her, whispering of dreams that had died long ago. Faded dreams like pressed rose petals.

“I want to speak to David Saqr and I intend to speak to him. And if you touch me, so help me I’ll break your arm.” The woman was no taller than a twelve-year-old boy, her dark hair cut in a short bob that highlighted almond eyes and a passionate mouth. She wore a long loose shirt over faded jeans and her boots were scuffed but clean. The watch on her left wrist was expensive.

Cali turned to Andrew. “Who is she?”

They were having a picnic breakfast on the castle ramparts. Outside, down on the ground, access denied by locked doors, the locals and David’s employees were milling with voluble curiosity. Cali tuned them out. Her interest was on the woman currently giving David’s bodyguard the evil eye.

“Miriam Attar.”

“One of David’s discarded lovers?” Cali bit into a sweet pastry. Honey oozed. She caught the drop and licked her finger.

Andrew blinked. He looked away, down at the conflict on David’s doorstep. Angel and djinni powers meant they didn’t have to be physically on the spot to listen in.

“Miriam is David’s saving grace.”

Cali choked. “She looks like she wants to kill him.”

“Or at least kick him in the shins.” Andrew was amused. “She knew David when they were kids.”

“She’s who you were expecting.” Cali sipped her bitter coffee and watched him over the edge of the cup. He had woken her at six as promised, tapping on the bottle so it rattled her awake. The picnic basket and his smile had stolen away her righteous anger when she emerged to lodge a violent protest at his discourtesy.

He wasn’t even in soldier’s uniform this morning. He wore the trim shirt and trousers of a weekend yachtsman.

Cali wore her version of a corsair’s costume—a white billowing shirt above fitted black breeches and boots with a red sash at the waist. Heavy gold hoops hung at her ears and she merged her gold bangles into broad cuffs reminiscent of Roman ornaments.

She’d dressed to kick ass.

The problem was Andrew refused to fight. He beguiled her with simple pleasures. How long had it been since she’d shared a meal with anyone? Or looked up to find a man watching her with a smile lurking in his eyes?

“Miriam has just discovered David paid for her education,” Andrew said.

“Why would he do that?”

“Nearly twenty years ago an earthquake flattened their town. Hundreds died, among them David’s parents, brother and sister. Miriam also lost her family. She didn’t know that immediately. She was trapped herself, caught in the collapse of a neighbor’s house. David ran home and found his family dead. He’d been playing football on open land and survived. He went into shock and walked the streets aimlessly.”

“I am not going to feel sorry for him.”

Andrew refused Cali’s challenge. “I’m telling you Miriam’s story. David found her and pulled her from the rubble. She was badly injured, a young girl of eleven. He carried her kilometers to the hospital and waited for news. He took his grief and his guilt that he hadn’t somehow saved his family and he focused all his energy on Miriam.”

“So he became her hero?”

“No. Miriam was grieving too much to notice all David did for her. He got her treatment and a hospital bed, and then he went back to her house and sifted through the rubble for papers. She had been friends with his sister and he knew that Miriam had an uncle in America. He got in contact with the man, who was Miriam’s closest relative. Unmarried and maybe uncaring, but he was now her passport out of the desperation and the poverty of being orphaned. David got Miriam to America and he paid for her education.”

“How? How old was he?”

“Seventeen,” Andrew said grimly. “Grieving and ruthless. The aftermath of disaster presents certain opportunities. David took them. Then he paid Miriam’s uncle to keep her and put her through a good school. When she wanted to study medicine, David paid for that too. Miriam never knew. She thought it was her uncle’s generosity. He was unmarried, without children. He died three weeks ago and she went through his papers. She discovered his arrangement with David. Then she looked him up on the ’net and found he traded in weapons and mercenaries. Blood money had put her through med school.”

“She found herself beholden to David,” Cali said slowly. “An outrage to her pride and her feelings of decency.”

“David owes Miriam more than she owes him. She’s the one soul he cares for. Concern for her kept him human.”

“Spoken like an angel. So what happens when she spits in his face?”

“Is that what you’d do? Reject someone’s care because you judged them unworthy?”

Cali put down her coffee cup. “This conversation is not about me. And caring for one person is not enough to redeem someone. David has crimes on his conscience—if he has a conscience.”

“A single spark of love can start an inferno,” Andrew said. “A blaze bright and hot enough to change the world.”

“That’s not David.” But she was shaken by the conviction in his words.

“Give him a chance, love.”

She looked at Andrew, lounging on the woven carpet he’d brought as a picnic blanket. He was powerful, self-confident, sure of his place in the world. No one had ever diminished him, controlled him, brought him to hate.

“No.” She jumped up. “You’re trying to make me forget my vow. But I made it solemnly. All who control my bottle deserve to die. They are masters, men without consciences, given over to power and greed. I’ll do Miriam a favor and kill David.”

“Killing is never a gift. It hurts the soul.” Anger crept into Andrew’s clear blue eyes.

Cali flared back. “My soul is fine and I’ve killed eleven men!”

“Have you?”

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected. It was too soft.

“I spent the night thinking of you.”

With her back to the castle stonework, she stared at him. “Angels aren’t allowed those sorts of dreams.”

He grinned. An eyebrow quirked. “What sort?”

She blushed, disconcerted after centuries without teasing.

“Ah, those sort.” Andrew pretended enlightenment. “The dreams when I undress you and discover how far your blush extends. How pink your nipples are and whether they spring to attention at a touch. Those sort of dreams.”

“You are not touching my body.”

“In my dreams,” he said over her indignation, “you touch me.”

Cali put her hands to her hot face.

“And you like it.”

She looked the length of his body, her gaze drawn from the breadth of his chest, down the flat stomach and lingering at the strength of his thighs. He was a lot of man.

Andrew breathed in harshly and her gaze fled. She turned and stared down at Miriam and the milling crowd of David’s staff and locals.

“You distract me.” Andrew stood beside her and rested his hands on the stonework, fingers splayed. “I haven’t teased and wanted a woman in a long time. But that is not why I thought of you last night. I had to learn what threat you are to David, so I researched the deaths of the other men who’ve owned your djinni bottle. You didn’t kill them. You set up a situation where their own natures destroyed them. If they had chosen to act with generous hearts, they wouldn’t have died.”

“I vowed to kill them and I did.”

“You tested them overharshly and they died of their failure. I understand.” His fingers pressed into the stone. “I’m not a nanny to the people I guard. I challenge them. Too many have died because they’ve chosen selfishly. I’m a soldier. I save in combat, whether it’s a fight with weapons, words or soul desires. I understand that choices must have consequences.”

Cali shivered. She felt as exposed as if he were stripping her naked. She’d braced for condemnation and received understanding. He was drawing them together into intimacy.

“And David?” she asked hoarsely. She cleared her throat and flung the next words at him. “What about David? I didn’t give him a chance to choose wisely. I balanced that rock to kill him. You saw me. You flung me into the sea, you were that angry. I would have killed him without a test.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed somberly. “I’m glad I spared you that.”

“Spared me?”

“You’re not a killer. If you become one, then you’ve let the bastards win. You’ve become one of them.”

She flinched as if he’d slapped her.

“I think we’re all on our last chance here, Cali. You, me and David. We’re all afraid to care, but no one can live without love.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve had centuries living in a cursed bottle that proves otherwise. I’ve survived without love.”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m cursed, Andrew. How can I be happy? I’m bound to serve humanity, shackled with the worst nightmares they can imagine. Oh, God.” She lashed out wildly and the gentle courtyard fountain suddenly ran with oil that took flame and burst upward, a blossom of fire.

Strong arms enfolded her. She stiffened every muscle in rejection of Andrew’s silent sympathy. She felt his cheek against her hair.

“With you, I feel again,” he said. “Happiness, sorrow, desire. I’m alive. Just let me hold you.”

She shook her head even as she pressed closer. His words tore the strength from her muscles and undermined her independence and pride. Her body softened.

Andrew’s chest moved in a massive sigh. “Thank you, love.”

His shirt smelled of sun-dried cotton and of him, a clean scent of male pheromones and citrus soap. His heart beat steadily.

It was a world of comfort Cali had never known. She let the courtyard flames die and replaced the oil in the fountain with water once more. She hesitated, then added a couple of bewildered ducks, a domestic touch.

Andrew gave a soundless laugh before kissing her forehead and stepping back. “David’s here. He’s going to meet Miriam.”

Cali blinked, bemused and regretful. She put a hand on Andrew’s shirt, touching where she had found rare peace.

He covered her hand with his.

“Andrew?” She was a boat adrift on uncharted seas. Tenderness was an unfamiliar emotion.

He smiled and her stomach quivered.

“Come and meet Miriam.” He clasped her hand. “I think you’ll like her.”

“You jackass, son of a donkey!” Miriam stabbed a finger into David’s chest.

He winced as it bypassed his unbuttoned shirt and her nail nicked bare skin. His bodyguard Eli looked from the tiny termagant to David’s face. A grin twitched the man’s usually immobile features.

Yeah, funny,
David thought sourly. First a magically restored castle and now David Saqr taken down by a woman. He looked around at the crowd of staff and locals. They encircled the castle, gesticulating and babbling about its overnight restoration, but he was relieved to see no one had made it inside. The doors were locked and the place as impenetrable as in its working days as a fortress.
Seems the djinni keeps her homicide for me.

“Are you listening to me?” demanded the woman in front of him.

“No,” he said bluntly and honestly.

That stopped her, but only for two seconds. Then she spoke slowly and steadily, and captured his attention.

“I am Miriam Attar.”

“Miri?” He did a double take. She was barely taller than the last time he’d seen her, reaching no higher than his shoulder, and he wasn’t overly tall for a man. Her face was attractive, laughter lines starting at the corner of her eyes, although she wasn’t laughing now. Her mouth was generous. The oversized shirt she wore hid her figure, but there wasn’t much of her.

“Dr. Miriam Attar,” she corrected. “I just discovered you paid for my education. I thought it was my uncle.”

“I don’t want you to thank me. Ouch.”

Her nail stabbed his chest again. “I have no intention of doing so.”

He stepped back and rubbed his chest. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. I got you to America and you had a good education.”

“You got me to America? My uncle sent for—”

He shook his head and she stopped.

“You contacted my uncle? You made him take me in?”

“I wanted you to have a chance at a better life.”

She glared at him.

Eli, his bodyguard, had wandered away to marvel at the castle and try the handle on one of its locked doors. It was just David and the history he’d never thought to meet in person. Miri had known him before he’d become a man to fear.

“Miri…why are you here?”

“I don’t like owing my life to a weapons dealer. I patch up the children you destroy.”

“You work in war zones? Dammit, Miri. The refugee camps were bad enough. Why can’t you be a GP? And I don’t bloody kill children!”

“Land mines,” she said succinctly.

“I don’t sell them,” he snapped back.

“You’d sell your grandmother’s soul.”

“Thank you for that insult. Your gratitude overwhelms me.”

For the first time, her angry gaze flickered. Then she looked at him. “How do you know I worked in refugee camps?”

It was David’s turn to look away. He stared at the castle, its repaired stonework outlined against the cloudless blue sky. First the djinni and now Miriam. They were confusing his orderly world. Women—they insisted on bringing emotion to their dealings.

“I keep an eye on my investments,” he said dismissively.

Miriam swelled with outrage. “I am not an investment.” Her eyes narrowed into slits of lethal intent. “And I’m not yours. Not for all your money.”

“I never asked for a repayment,” he reminded her. “You’re the one who came storming up here.”

“Your dad would be ashamed of you. He was an honorable man, kind and gentle.”

“Crippled.” David spit out the word. “Crippled in a building accident because the foreman was cutting corners. And when he fell, they just pushed him out onto the road. It was a neighbor who ran for Mom. We were reduced to Mom taking in washing and Dad…”

“He was clever. His wood carvings were beautiful.”

“They sold for pennies.”

“He gave me one of a sparrow. Beautiful. I lost it in the earthquake.”

Their eyes met. They had both lost more than keepsakes in the earthquake. They’d lost their families.

“Thank you for carrying me to the hospital back then,” Miri said grudgingly.

David waved off her thanks. She had changed so much. The lost girl, all tears and grief, was now a strong woman, passionately protective of herself and her honor. To see her stand on his doorstep and challenge him—something grown men lacked the courage for—told him everything he’d done to get her to America and give her a future had been worth it. Every hardscrabble, knuckle-bruising, knife-sharp moment. He had saved her from being one of the lost ones, one of the orphans who were the flotsam of disasters, homeless, vulnerable and easy prey.

“I don’t want to be beholden to you.”

“You’re not.” He said it simply, but he read her expression. She couldn’t accept the truth. He frowned. To convince her, he’d have to give her a piece of himself. “Making sure you were safe gave me something to concentrate on when I needed it. Building your future made me build mine.”

Her eyes opened wide and filled with slow-growing horror. “No.”

“What?” He glanced around in a quick risk assessment, but she was staring at him. He wouldn’t hurt her. There was no threat beyond that represented by the restored castle and the djinni, wherever the hell she was lurking. He’d deal with her later. Maybe reseal her bottle and throw it into the sea. His hand closed on his gun. “What’s wrong, Miri?”

She stared at the gun before her huge eyes returned to his face. “Are you saying you chose this life to make money for me? You built a life of death so that I could have a future?”

“Melodrama.” He put the gun away. “I just found a way to make money. I’m good at it.”

Miri shook her head. She pressed her fingers over her mouth a moment. “Oh, God, I do owe you.”

“No! Hell, Miri, just go and live your life. Forget about me. You have a chance to do something good in the world—”

She gripped his hand. “You sold your soul for that chance, for me to have a good life. I’m going to get your soul back.”

“Miri,” he began warningly.

“Don’t worry, David. We will win your soul back. I will restore your honor.”

He stared at her, frustrated and bemused.

She squeezed his hand. “I’ll think of a plan.”

On the wind came the sound of jangling gold bangles and light female laughter. The djinni was laughing.

He looked down at Miri’s earnest face and a tremor passed through him. He was cursed.