Lucca Read online

  Finally reaching his destination, he entered the mini-mart taking note of who had ventured out to make a last minute purchase before settling down for the night. An older man with a gray beard stood in front of the freezer section, staring at the fudge-sickles and the pints of ice cream. Two teenage boys were browsing the chip aisle and chatting about the new girl in school.

  He slipped into the third aisle where he knew the chocolate chip cookies were stashed. The bell chimed, letting him know someone else had entered the mart. His freakish height of six-foot five came in handy now and again. He could easily see who had entered. He nearly dropped the cookies, having to fumble with the box to keep it from hitting the floor. The scent curled around him, teasing him.

  “No, it can’t be.” His voice remained low and in control, but his heart decided to pick up the pace. The woman and the boy from the Laundromat stood in the entryway. Wasn’t it his cursed luck to step out for cookies the same time she decided to go grocery shopping? Why this mart? Why now? His brows drew together in suspicion. Shouldn’t her son be in bed by now? He glanced at his watch. It was almost nine-thirty. It seemed like a good time for a child to be fast asleep.

  She headed down one of the aisles and he ducked down. He actually crouched down to hide. When had he turned into a pansy? It’s just a woman, a female human at that. So she smelled good enough to make him want to do all kinds of sinful things, he didn’t have to hide from her. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to convince himself he ducked because he feared what he might do. He didn’t trust himself around her. His lips pursed together. That didn’t sound right either. Her sweet scent of mint, rosemary, and something entirely female tickled his nose, still enticing, but he reined in the desire to take her.

  Stand up, you pansy arse. This is no way for a warrior to behave. His father’s voice echoed from the past, sending a chill down his spine. He stood before he could stop himself, the command from his subconscious just as lethal as if the abusive bastard stood next to him. Until tonight, he hadn’t thought about his father in a long time, centuries in fact. He didn’t like it one bit. It was the damn female’s fault, making him doubt himself and dredging up a time in his life he wished to forget.

  He straightened his back. The female’s scent was the most tantalizing fragrance he had the graces to encounter. Ever. But he could surely pretend to be indifferent. He’d been an actor from time to time through the centuries, performing on grand stages. He could do this. “All the world’s a stage.” Or so William Shakespeare had thought.

  The woman, with the boy beside her, already stood in line with a carton of eggs, milk, and bread. His steps didn’t falter as he strode to the counter to check out, taking his place behind them.

  The human boy turned as if sensing his presence. He thought the kid would fear him once he recognized him as the all-kinds-of-crazy guy down at the Laundromat, but he didn’t flinch. His big silver-blue eyes regarded him in a curious manner. The boy was scrawny and he sniffled as if he had allergies or the starting of a cold. The woman was busy with the clerk and didn’t pay attention to the boy.

  Lucca stared back, glaring was more like it, with hopes of staunching the boy’s curiosity.

  The boy’s lips curved into a brazen smile. Was the male child not right in the head? His notorious glare set the bravest warriors cowering.

  “You’re really big,” the boy spoke the obvious. Like he didn’t already know this. “Just like my father,” the boy told him as he blew his nose into a Kleenex. He shoved the offensive cloth in his coat pocket.

  Lucca grunted. Taking in the boy’s scrawny appearance, he highly doubted he resembled the child’s father. His gaze shifted to the female, wondering what the holdup was.

  He found her digging in her purse for the money to pay for her groceries, bringing out pennies. She had to be kidding. What did she do, rob the piggy bank before trotting down here to make a purchase?

  “Dear Lord, at this rate, my food will spoil.” The words flew from his mouth before he could stop himself. He only had cookies and the cereal box he had grabbed on his way to the front. So, the statement fell short. His hand whipped out his credit card. “Here, put it on my bill.” He shoved his items on the counter, too.

  The woman shook her head. Her eyes grew wider as she stared at him. “I couldn’t—”

  “Yes, you can.” He narrowed his gaze on the clerk. “Do it.”

  This was a new employee and Lucca figured he might as well make a grand first impression. The clerk’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

  At least he had the decency to recognize the danger of crossing him. He glanced at the human boy who stared at him with— Dear Lord, was that admiration?

  The female smoothed loose reddish strands away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “Well, I thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

  Great, now he had her gratitude. He waved her off. She couldn’t pay him back when he planned on never seeing her again. His gaze lingered on her longer than deemed necessary, catching how the light shone off her reddish blonde hair, hanging in waves around her fine features. Her eyes were the color of emeralds, framed by thick lashes. Something stirred in his chest, his heartbeat changed—stopped and started again. He forced his attention elsewhere before he could speak. His voice was a hoarse whisper as if he swallowed a shot of whiskey before speaking. “Don’t think anything of it. I shan’t.”

  Her features changed from one of gratitude to…recognition. So she hadn’t recognized him straight off. Then again he’d cleaned up a tad.

  “It’s you,” she accused.” She grabbed her groceries and reached for the boy’s hand. “Shouldn’t you be at home sleeping?”

  His gaze riveted to hers, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not taking any medications, woman,” he snapped, remembering what Gideon had said to her in the Laundromat.

  “Okay, but the—” She didn’t finish the sentence. “Really, it’s none of my business. Thank you, for this.” She lifted the bag of groceries. “Have a good evening.” She whirled around, dragging the boy behind her.

  The boy kept staring at him with a goofy grin.

  “Definitely, Fae touched,” he murmured. He wondered if he could use the term without people jumping all over him for not using a politically correct phrase. Hell, he didn’t even know what the correct phrase was. He missed the days when he could call it how it was and not sugarcoat every word.

  “Sir, your groceries.”

  He turned to stare at the clerk and then remembered why he’d ventured out to the mini-mart in the first place. His hand grasped the bag and he hurried out of the store.

  He glanced across the street and to the right, but the woman and the boy were nowhere in sight. “Of course, they took a car.” The majority of people in this century didn’t walk. One would think their legs were useless appendages.

  “What were you going to do if they were walking?” He left the question unanswered and turned toward home. He took two steps before his gaze landed on the figures ahead of him. His feet faltered for half a second. What were the chances that she would be heading in the same direction, and on foot, no less? “Next to nil.” Suspicion laced its way through his thoughts again. Maybe the Hashasheen demons sent her to seduce him, make him let down his guard and lead them to where the Tomes of Nasarm were hidden. He snorted at the ludicrous thought.

  Hashasheen demons weren’t into seducing their victims. They like blades and poison, not aphrodisiacs. He didn’t even know the woman’s name but he knew her scent of mint, rosemary and… “Sunshine.” Not many knew sunshine had an aroma of freshness like flowers opening their petals for the first time, allowing the scent to escape. The woman had the perfect shade of hair to compliment the scent, too.

  He shook his head, disgusted with his pansy head-in-the-clouds attitude. He couldn’t let her comely face and her essence make him lose focus. She could be dangerous. Hell, she already proved so with her power to distract him.

  Chapt
er Seven

  Juliet wished she’d taken the car now. The good-looking guy with the great hair didn’t exactly put her at ease. He offered, no, he demanded to pay for her groceries. She had the money—in her other purse. Stopping at the mini-mart was a last minute decision. The purse she brought held only the coins for the Laundromat. The other purse sitting nice and pretty on her kitchen table held her credit cards.

  The man’s actions should put her on guard. Sniffing her hair—what was that about anyway? And the way he looked at her as if she was a tasty morsel should tell her he’s trouble, but the weird thing was she liked the attention. There was something off kilter with her tonight. Trusting anyone, especially a human, proved an issue. She knew that. Yet, all of a sudden her body didn’t seem to take her seriously.

  Her gaze lingered on her nephew. His light hair was the shade of moonbeams, almost white like his mother’s had been, but his eyes were Raziel’s, a shade of silver blue. The shade was brighter in its radiance than any human eye color, but with contacts having an array of unnatural colors to choose from, no one noticed. Owen was a beautiful child, sweet tempered, and she loved him as her own. Why Heaven would want to destroy him, she would never understand.

  Archangels hunted Raziel, wanting him to give up the child, but they also wanted his head for sending them through the portal. Leroy had told her this. Raziel knew the magic of the portals between worlds—time travel. Owen and she were proof it was possible.

  She was a modern woman, holding down a job as an equal with men and making her way in the world as a single mother. All were oddities in her time, but here no one batted an eye. Raziel may have used his angelic powers to download centuries of advance technology and whatnot, but she still longed for the simpler life of her time. She feared one day she would forget her other life entirely.

  Maybe it would be for the best. A sigh left her with a heavy heart. She could never go back. Her hand squeezed Owen’s small one. Her brows furrowed, wondering why such melancholy thoughts had plagued her this evening.

  “Auntie Jules?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why is the man from the mini-mart following us?”

  “What?” Her gaze riveted to him then she peered over her shoulder. The tall wide-shouldered man strolled at a leisurely pace with his one bag dangling from his fingertips. They weren’t far from home, but not close enough to run if the man chose to pursue them. Then of course, she could always pull out her gun from beneath her coat and just shoot him.

  Well, maybe not. She’d have to explain to her superiors why she shot a man out for a stroll. Saying he sniffed her hair wouldn’t qualify as a motive.

  The guy must have sensed her fears. He lifted his free hand in mock surrender. “I mean you no harm.”

  “Said the spider to the fly,” she said under her breath, making Owen chuckle.

  “It’s a good thing I am not a spider and you are not a fly,” the man responded.

  Her brows drew together. She hadn’t thought he was close enough to hear her. “Why are you following us?”

  His low chuckle vibrated from his chest in a pleasant, nonthreatening mode of amusement. “I don’t live far from here. I would ask you the same thing if you weren’t walking in front of me.”

  “We don’t live far from here either.” All her training for this century and Raziel’s warnings should have cautioned her to stay away from this man. If not those warnings, his large structure should intimidate her, and his surly disposition should tell her to stay clear of him as well, but call it womanly intuition, the warning bells remained silent.

  He caught up to them now. Tall, fierce, and perhaps a bit on the arrogant side—he knew he turned heads and made no qualms about it, but something happened lately that put a kink in his armor. His hesitant smile, the way he shoved his hand in his pocket spoke of a man unsure of himself for perhaps the first time. She had a hunch it wasn’t the obvious fight he’d been in earlier. His scrapes and bruises didn’t look as pronounced as they did at the Laundromat. His damp hair told her he took a shower before venturing out again.

  “I live at the Courtyard Apartments.” He nodded in the direction they were walking.

  “We just moved in there.” Her frown deepened. What were the odds?

  “Hmm...” His brows drew together over the bridge of his nose, obviously thinking the same thing. “The ‘for rent’ sign was gone. I figured the apartment had been leased out. The other tenant moved out last month. Job related.” He shrugged.

  “We moved in a few days ago. Small world.”

  “Isn’t it?” His direct gaze spoke of suspicion as if he didn’t completely believe her story.

  Shouldn’t she be the one questioning this?

  “Since you and your son are heading in the same direction, do you mind if I tag along?”

  “Oh, he’s not my son.” Why did she blurt that out? “I mean… He’s my nephew… I’m his guardian.”

  His gaze flickered to Owen. “His parents have passed on?”

  “My mother died giving birth to me,” Owen volunteered the information. “My father’s wanted by—”

  Juliet didn’t let Owen finish, drowning out his words with her own explanation. “His father isn’t the best influence on the boy, if you know what I mean. I have full custody of him.” Even to her ears the story sounded fishy. What was wrong with her?

  “You have no need to explain your home life to me.” He looked at Owen again. “My father would not win the Best Father of the Year Award either.”

  His gaze traveled to hers again with warm understanding. He told the truth about his father. What beautiful eyes he had. Even in the streetlight, the shade of a winter storm mesmerized her. She purposely looked away to prevent herself from staring.

  “Shall we?” he asked with a wave of his hand.

  She and Owen walked on the sidewalk and he took the edge of the street to keep pace with them. They didn’t make conversation, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. His presence actually felt comforting.

  She pulled her jacket closer around her as the wind picked up. The weatherman said rain was in the forecast. She hoped it would pass them by until the end of the week. The Shakespeare in the Park theatrical group she belonged to was hosting tryouts tomorrow night in the outdoor amphitheatre. Rain or shine they didn’t cancel, but attendance would suffer.

  Owen swiped his nose with the back of his hand and she immediately handed him a Kleenex. Owen always had a runny nose. Allergies she was told, but medicine didn’t seem to help. The runny nose didn’t hamper him in any way and the doctor, who was Nephilim, told her not to worry, stating once Owen matured, he would out grow the allergies. The runny nose was something all Nephilim children experienced until they went through their Awakening. Leroy promised to find a reliable Watcher to walk him through the Awakening if Raziel didn’t come through for his son. Owen would need one of the Nephilim to help him to control the shifts.

  They arrived home and she expected the man to step aside and let them go on ahead, but he did just the opposite. He opened the wrought iron fence, stepping inside first. His gaze swept over the area as if he expected trouble awaited them. When he deemed the area free from intruders, he stepped aside allowing them to enter.

  “I’ll see you around then,” he said to her and she swore he drew in a deep breath as she past by, as if he were sniffing her hair again. However, when she looked at him, he had already turned away, heading for his apartment.

  “Yes, see you.” As soon as he closed his door, she and Owen headed for their apartment across the way.

  Safely inside with the door locked and bolted, she realized she didn’t know the guy’s name. “I didn’t tell him mine either,” she reminded herself.

  Owen plopped down on the couch, reaching for the remote to turn on the television.

  “No TV, young man. It’s late and you need to take a bath.”

  “Ah, do I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  Owen dragged his feet to
ward the bathroom as if she ordered his execution. He may be half angel, but he acted like a typical human boy. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.

  Another groan and her lips curved. “Definitely a human response.”

  They still had boxes to unpack, but the kitchen had all their necessities put in order. She placed the groceries on the counter. She had noticed her neighbor liked cookies. She could bake a dozen as a thank you for his help.

  She strode into the living room, heading for the window that overlooked the courtyard. Her hand pulled back the lace material. The courtyard was well lit, giving her a perfect view of the plotted plants, lounge chairs, and the front door of Mr. Hair Sniffer. Her lips curved.

  She needed to find out more about him, and not because she thought him attractive. She made it a point to know her neighbors, what they did for a living, and what hours they kept. Leroy assured her this complex was secure. He also asked her tonight if she’d met any of her neighbors yet. “Hmm...” Had Leroy meant the neighbor across the courtyard?

  Leroy never steered her wrong before and he claimed the Courtyard Apartments were safe. To tell the truth, she fell in love with the apartment as soon as she entered the courtyard. The trees, the ornate fountain with its soft bubbling sounds as the water spilled over the bowlike lip. An angel topped the fountain with its baby wings and bow and arrow, giving the cherub the appearance of a stone cupid guarding the courtyard for potential clients.

  A movement caught her eye and her gaze riveted to her neighbor’s window. Hair-sniffer stood at his window, checking the lock. The man did have a chest on him and she’d bet a washboard stomach the way it tapered off to slim hips. He must work out. No one was born looking like a Nordic god.

  The man hesitated as if he sensed someone staring at him. His gaze turned toward her place and she hastily stepped back, letting the curtain fall into place. Her hand flew to her chest as if to still the pounding against her ribcage. She chewed on her lower lip, annoyed that she wasn’t entirely sure the rapid heartbeats had anything to do with her close call at being caught ogling.