Kiss Across Time (Kiss Across Time Series) Page 11

  “It’s his streetwear, for when he doesn’t want to be recognized,” Veris said, opening the passenger side door.

  “I prefer the Maserati, when I don’t mind drawing attention,” Brody said. He handed her over to Veris, who gave Brody the keys.

  Veris sank into the low slung passenger seat with her in his arms, as if she weighed nothing and he had no burden in his arms at all. He settled her on his thighs and shut the door as Brody slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

  “Home,” Veris declared.

  “That’s up to Taylor,” Brody replied, looking at her. He eased the Mustang out of the row of parked cars and accelerated with a snarl of the powerful engine. It might look like an ordinary Mustang, but whatever was under the hood had been souped up and supercharged.

  “Didn’t you just tell the queen I’m basically yours?” Taylor asked.

  “We implied it,” Brody replied. “She heard what she wanted to hear.”

  “Veris said ‘Taylor is ours,’” Taylor quoted. “How is that just an implication?”

  “You bloody great lummox,” Brody growled. “You had to go all he-man, after you sent her running the last time. Did nothing I say register with you?”

  “That was for the queen’s benefit,” Veris said, his voice low.

  “You were lying?” Taylor asked.

  The silence lasted for five long heartbeats.

  “No,” Veris said, his voice still low. “You are ours, Taylor.”

  “Fuck, Veris!” Brody groaned. “You’re killing me. Do I really have to stop this car to punch you in the mouth to shut you up?”

  “It’s the truth. You want me to lie?” Veris said flatly. “Over something this critical?”

  Brody stayed silent. Instead, he wrenched the wheel, skidding the tires as the car veered onto Ventura Boulevard. The car accelerated with a roar.

  Taylor clutched at Veris and his arm came around her back, as solid and trustworthy as an iron band. “You can fight it,” Veris told her, “but there is a bond between us and the queen gave in so easily because she knows this, too. We have already marked you – that will never go away. All you must do now is acknowledge this.”

  Taylor shook her head. “And where in any of this does free will come into it?”

  “Fate doesn’t allow for free will,” Veris told her.

  “Then fuck fate.” She looked at Brody. “I want out. Stop the car, Brody.”

  “I can’t stop on the freeway, but as soon as I can, I will,” he assured her.

  “Taylor—” Veris began.

  “No, you listen to me,” she shot back, overriding him. “You spent…how many years, looking for a way to drop Domhnall into human history so humans could discover Brody’s people and Arthur after your people wiped them out? Ten years? Fifty?”

  “A while,” Veris said flatly.

  “Eight three,” Brody supplied.

  Veris sighed.

  “Brody’s slavery upsets you, doesn’t it?” Taylor asked, trying to make her tone softer, more gentle. She could see the same deep pain in Veris’ eyes that had been there when he had exploded in the limousine after their first visit to see Tira.

  Veris turned his head away from her. “It offends me.”

  “He feels guilty,” Brody added.

  Taylor caught Veris’ face in her hands and turned it back so he was looking at her. “How is what you’re doing with me any different than what your people did with Brody?”

  Shock slithered across his face. His blue eyes widened and his lips parted. “No,” he whispered.

  The car slowed and the road beneath the tires grew bumpy and gritty. Brody pulled the car to a halt and put it in neutral. “Out,” he said shortly.

  Veris looked through the window. “You can’t dump her here. It’s the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  “I’m not,” Brody replied. “Taylor, open the door and hop out for a second.”

  She was more than eager to get out. The car had become claustrophobic. She looked around. “I don’t suppose you could lend me a twenty for a taxi?” she asked, bending down to look back in the car.

  Brody shook his head. “No need. I’ll see you safely home. Veris, get out.”

  Veris sat for a moment, his jaw working, looking straight ahead. Then, still silent, he climbed out of the car.

  “Taylor?” Brody called, putting the car back in gear and revving the engine.

  She looked at Veris and bit her lip.

  “Get in,” he told her. “Brody will take you home.”

  She sighed and turned back to the car.

  Veris caught her hand in his. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. “I would spend the rest of my life proving that if only you would let me.” He held the door open for her and shut it when she was in the car.

  “Where will he go?” Taylor asked, watching his figure diminish as Brody pulled away.

  “Unlike you, Veris has a wallet, ID, and about six centuries more experience at surviving on his feet. I imagine he’ll walk to the nearest phone and call himself up a cab home. Frankly, I don’t care. He needs the exercise.” Brody touched her thigh. “Are you alright?”

  Taylor shook her head. “No,” she said truthfully. She was shaking again and all at once, the events of the evening seemed to rise up and overwhelm her. Veris was the last straw.

  “Agh…Mo Taylor álainn chroí ....” Brody pulled her up against his shoulder, his arm around hers. “It’s been a few centuries, but I’m seem to remember that tears don’t make me melt. You’ve had a hard few days, haven’t you?”

  The rough, low bur of his voice and the soft sympathy unraveled the last of her restraint. Taylor turned her face inward against his shoulder and wept, while Brody gently stroked her back and shoulder as he drove.

  When the last of her tears had been shed, she tried to lift herself away from him and move back to her side of the car, but Brody held her there. He pressed his lips against her forehead. “You’re fine as you are,” he told her. “I want to steal the last few moments while I can.”

  He didn’t say it with any particular emphasis or tone, but his words made fresh tears slide down her cheeks. “Oh, Brody,” she whispered. “I—”

  “Not now,” he said. “We’ll talk in a minute, but I can’t drive, hold you, and give you my full attention as well, and I want to hold you above all else, so shh, hm?”

  She settled back against his shoulder and let him drive as he had requested. All too soon, he was slotting the Mustang through the streets of Brentwood, steering with no hesitation.

  “You know where I live,” she said.

  “Of course. We’ve known since the morning after the concert. You left your bag lying around and Veris was desperate to know everything he could about you.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t try an Internet search, then.”

  “He did.”

  “Oh.”

  “He spent a lot of the night reading your published papers, the ones he hadn’t already read before going to see you the week before.” He brought the Mustang to a halt in front of her apartment block. “You were heading in the right direction, you know. About my father. You would have found him, if there had been anything left for you to find.” He turned the engine off.

  “You’re coming in?” she asked.

  “I’m seeing you safely home. I promised Veris. And you.”

  Taylor bit her lip. “My next door neighbor is a Nocturnal Rain freak, and his roommates are all into death metal. If they spot you…”

  Brody grinned and reached over to the back seat. “This is my street gear car, remember?” His hair was already pulled back and tied in a neat ponytail at the back of his neck, which did an enormous amount to change his general appearance. Now he slid on dark wraparound sunglasses, and shook out a light weight, full length dark rain coat that would disguise his clothes.

  “Come on. You need your beauty sleep,” he told her, and got out.

  * * * * *

  Brody was a
comforting presence next to her as she climbed the shabby stairs to the third floor. The wraparound sunglasses and long coat did a lot to disguise him, as did the tied-back hair. The plain black jeans and muscle shirt did the rest. Any self-respecting death metal fan could walk right past him on the street and be no wiser.

  When she got closer to her apartment, she slowed. “I think that’s Andy,” she told Brody. “Against my door.”

  Brody took off the glasses and narrowed his eyes, looking along the corridor. “He’s asleep.” He glanced at her. “He’s a fan?”

  “Huge fan. He took me to your concert.”

  Brody shrugged. “Ah, well.” He strode forward.

  Andy was curled up in a tight ball on the floor, leaning against her front door. He was asleep, his mouth slightly open, his arms around his middle, one shoulder propped against the doorframe.

  Taylor shook his shoulder. “Andy.” She shook harder.

  He came out of his sleep slowly, blinking owlishly up at her. Then his face crumpled for a second. “I couldn’t sleep in my apartment. Not after the police, after Graham…”

  “It’s fine,” she told him. “You can sleep in mine.”

  “You’re okay,” he said. “The big guy said you would be.”

  “The big guy?” she asked.

  “The one you said would come after you. He came and talked to me. Really big guy, lots of muscles. Blue eyes. Soft way of talking that was real scary. I was so glad he wasn’t going after me…”

  He blinked some more and focused on Brody standing patiently by her side.

  “Oh holy mary motherfucker,” Andy said and scrambled to his feet. He staggered, his legs stiff from being folded under him, and reached out unsteadily, grasping at Taylor’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” he added in dismay. He looked back at Brody. “Holy jesus!” he added softly.

  “Hi Andy,” Brody said. “Do you want to let us in?”

  “Andy,” Taylor said. “Shut your mouth.”

  Andy shut it with a snap.

  * * * * *

  Brody was still sitting at the tiny breakfast bar when Taylor emerged into the main room, twenty minutes later.

  “Andy’s asleep. He’s exhausted, I imagine.”

  Brody pushed the spare apartment key he had been playing with back next to the sugar bowl. “We’ll make sure he comes out of this okay. No police hassles, that sort of stuff. He was there for you in a major way. He deserves a break.”

  “I think he would define a break as landing a job. No one can see past his heavy metal appearance, but he’s a good guy.”

  “A job is definitely something we can arrange.” Brody grinned. “Figure he’d like doing something for the band?”

  Taylor grinned back. “He’d think he’s died and gone to heaven. That would be perfect.”

  Brody stood up. He was a big guy, too. It was just that when Veris was around, Brody’s size was diminished in comparison. When it was just him in the room, his true height and the width of his shoulders became apparent.

  He studied her with his dark eyes. “Is there anything I can do to win you back, Taylor? Is there anything that will undo the damage?”

  “Oh, Brody, it’s not you who did the damage….”

  “We’re a package deal. You know that, or you wouldn’t be walking away from both of us.” His chest lifted and fell. “But I’m not proud like Veris. I’m here to beg.” He shifted his stance and she knew he was lying. He was every bit as proud as Veris but he’d subsumed his pride for this, for Veris’ sake.

  “How can you stand being with a man who talks about reparations for your own slavery, but casually speaks of the enslavement of others like it is his God-given right?”

  “You know that was not his meaning.”

  “It came out that way.”

  Brody shook his head. “Veris has been walking this earth since the fifth century. That’s over sixteen hundred years. The attitudes he grew up with have changed so profoundly. He has changed with the times, but sometimes when it is very important to him, he reverts back to his old Viking self and all the old values emerge. He can’t help it, Taylor. He wants this too badly and he’s tripping over his own need.”

  “You’re as old as he is. You don’t have any problems with modern attitudes.”

  He took a deep breath. “I was the one who was enslaved, remember? That teaches you a lot about adaptation, believe me.” He shrugged. “My father was a poet. I think some of his ideas about love rubbed off.”

  Frustration tore at her. “But all I want is for him to ask me! Why can’t he simply ask, instead of all this posturing and demanding?”

  “How much more can a man do to make it clear he wants you in his life?” Brody shot back. “He tracked you down when the queen took you, he risked her fury so he could bargain for your freedom. It lets you come to us as an independent woman—”

  “What are you talking about?” Taylor cried.

  Brody studied her, his chest lifting. He looked as puzzled as she felt. “What did you think Veris was doing when he was negotiating with the queen for compensation?”

  Taylor tried to get her breath back. “Buying me,” she whispered.

  Brody’s jaw sagged. Understanding flooded his features. He shook his head. “Buying your independence,” he corrected. “That’s why he made sure it was the queen’s money, not ours.”

  Taylor reached for the nearest chair and dropped into it.

  Brody lowered himself to his knees in front of her and wrapped his hands around her waist.

  “Taylor, come back to us,” he said, his voice low. “We had you for a day and you’ve been gone for nearly a week and we already know we can’t stand it without you. Veris is like a dog with a sore tooth and my chest aches all the time.”

  Taylor bit her lip. “And the guarantee he gave the queen? In a decade or two, there would be no human left who knew of Domhnall?”

  Brody nodded. “Stay with us and when you’re ready, in ten years or so, we’ll turn you, so that you can be with us forever. We turn you. Not the queen.” He got to his feet, leaned down and kissed her. “I love you, Maggie Taylor Yates. So does Veris, although right at this time he’d rather chew razor blades than admit it. I think my father’s poems were preserved this long just so we might find you. Don’t let his heritage go to waste.”

  He dropped a business card on the table next to her. “Don’t lose it. There’s no other way to find us.”

  He shut the door gently behind him, leaving her alone with the stiff white business card and her thoughts.

  Chapter Twelve

  Two days later, a courier tapped on Taylor’s door and she signed for the simple business envelope, puzzled.

  Andy was sitting at her kitchen table. He had shown no inclination to go back to his apartment, and Taylor would never in a million years admit she was enjoying the company. Andy helped her keep her thoughts off Veris and Brody.

  Taylor returned to her cooling cup of tea and studied the envelope.

  “Special mail. They’re usually bad news,” Andy observed.

  “They don’t have to be,” Taylor told him.

  It was an ordinary business envelope with a window. The document inside had her name on it. Puzzled, she opened the sealed envelope and pulled out the document.

  It was a check. A very large check in her name. She counted the figures. There were eight of them before she got to the decimal place. Then her hand started to tremble.

  “This has to be a joke,” she said, and wasn’t surprised when her voice came out wobbly.

  “Why? What’s so funny?” Andy asked. He took the check from her and looked at it. “Some funny joke,” he said. “It looks real to me.”

  Taylor licked her lips. “It is real,” she said, her voice bodiless.

  Andy looked at the check again. He gave a long, low whistle. “Who writes checks like this? For real?”

  Taylor covered her face with her hands, trying to block out the sudden rush of memories – sense memories, im
ages, even scent. She could taste them…both of them. It was almost like they were there in the room with her right now.

  The yearning to actually be with them, this instant, was almost overpowering. She moaned with the strength of her need.

  “Oh man, you don’t mean…Gallagher gave you this?” Andy asked, his voice nearly a whisper of excitement.

  “And Veris,” she said into her hands.

  “The big guy? That Veris? The Viking dude you told me about?” Andy blew out his breath. “They’re that loaded? Shit, Taylor, you must be one hell of a lay. ‘scuse my language, but…”

  She gave a tight laugh and sat up. “They didn’t give me this money. They arranged it. Someone else is paying up. The same people who killed Graham. Brody and Veris…um…talked them into paying me for screwing up my career.”

  “Good,” Andy said shortly. “You deserve it.”

  She stood up. “I think you should go back to your apartment, Andy.”

  His face fell. “Jeez, have I hung around too long…?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ve liked your company, Andy, but I have a feeling you’re about to get a phone call and you need to be home to take it.”

  “A phone call about what?”

  “A job.”

  He smiled shyly. “Did you do something…?”

  “Brody and I talked.” She gave him a smile. “Go home, Andy. I have things to do.” She pulled the stiff white business card out from under the sugar bowl.

  * * * * *

  The Beverley Hills mansion rivaled anything that the Hollywood film stars could have dreamed up, including the security that greeted her at the Spanish wrought iron gates. Taylor got out of the taxi, clutching the coat around her throat and looked up at the big, armed guard nervously. “I’m not expected,” she said hesitantly. “My name is Taylor Yates and I’m—“

  “You can go right in, Ms. Yates,” the guard said with a smile.

  “Just like that?” she said.

  “Just like that.” He opened the gate and held it for her. “Straight up the drive. I’ll let the house guard know you’re coming.”