CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JUSTICE
Justice gripped the wheel, glancing out the corner of his eye at his life mate. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He didn’t need to. In fact, he didn’t have time. Yet, he felt compelled.
He and his sisters banked on this, on finding their opportunity—their chance. This time with Jes was essential. He needed to get through to her. He couldn’t bear her hate.
He couldn’t take it. He could take his own, or anyone else’s, for what he’d done. But not hers.
He needed time for her to realize she was his life-mate—and without her…. Well, she may as well take the air he breathed. He’d been forced to leave her once. He’d never do so again. Especially after seeing her walk toward him—make that stalk toward him—gloriously stark naked.
He may have had no choice but to leave her the first time, all those years ago—but to have to do so, again, the other night….
But he couldn’t take her with him, right then. Not with that human standing there watching him. And not with the terrible things Jes was thinking about him.
He looked over at her, now. She hadn’t said a word since they’d started driving. He wished she’d say something—anything. But she hadn’t said a word. However, she did continue to think those hateful thoughts. He bit off a snarl, staring straight ahead at the road. And she did continue to judge him for what had taken place that day.
It wasn’t helping him, right now, that he could read her mind. Not with as often as she seemed determined to think it, which was most of the time
He didn’t understand women—even when he knew what they were thinking.
It was more than a thousand miles to Colorado, and he had driven her over halfway there, without saying a single word to her. He could feel her watching him. She didn’t try to hide it. It wouldn’t have done any good to pretend. He’d have known—no matter how she tried to hide it.
She didn’t try to hide her thoughts from him, either. He didn’t think she’d have the faintest clue how to do so, anyway. She watched him now, half leaning against the pickup door to do so. He finally stopped staring straight ahead at the road, as if he was ignoring her, and actually looked at her.
She frowned. “When, exactly, did your parents disappear?”
It was his turn to frown. “They didn’t come to the hospital. And they were gone when I got out. They had changed a lot—but not so much that they wouldn’t have come to the hospital to see me—so I assumed they didn’t come because they couldn’t. Not that it made much difference. They were gone long before. That was only the day they physically left.”
She chewed on her lip, absorbing that. “What do you mean they left long before that?”
He half-shrugged. “Something happened long before that day,” he muttered. “Something took them away from me and my sisters, years before. One day, we were a close family—doing things that all families do. The next, they weren’t there anymore—stopped paying attention anymore. It was as if they became a shell of who they’d been.”
She cocked her head to one side, thinking about what he’d revealed. “When, exactly, did they change?”
He did look at her and he frowned again. “I suppose, a few years before. They had a business. We were doing well. Then, one day, it was all gone. Along with it went the loving parents we’d always known.” He stared ahead at the road. “It was like, in their place was a replica of the people they’d been. They looked the same—but nothing about them was the same. I was too young to understand happened to them. Heck, I still don’t know. By the time, I started to figure it out, all hell broke loose. Then, they disappeared….”
Jes frowned again at this. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
He nodded. “I never thought too much about it—but neither do I.”
She abruptly changed the subject. “Why midnight?”
He actually grinned at her. She glared at him.
He turned and gave her a quick look of appraisal before returning his gaze to the road. “Because it would make your head churn around with ideas of what it could possibly mean.”
She gasped. “You set me up?”
He grinned openly.
“Okay,” she gave him a reluctant smile. “I asked for that—with all my high-and-mighty judgments. But watch your back.”
He seemed surprised at her honesty—her frank appraisal of her hostility against him. Some hidden tension seemed to leave him.
After a moment, she asked. “How do you do it?” She turned and looked at him. “Get into my apartment, I mean?”
He grinned. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that.”
She glared at him.
It only made him give her a playfully lecherous look. After a moment, he sobered. “I’ve had years of experience breaking into places people don’t want me to be, Jes.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap, fidgeting with her fingers. She took a deep breath, scared to hear the answer to her next question. “What happened to you that day?”
He turned his head, but looked right through her, this time. “Nothing I care to talk about.”
And that was it. He didn’t talk for the rest of the trip, to the tiny town in the mountains southwest of Colorado Springs.
When they got there, they stayed at the only motel they could find. He rented them separate rooms, and they slept through until nearly noon the next day.
They didn’t know what they were looking for, so they settled on some late breakfast at a cozy little café. The waitress brought them coffee and menus. They sat there, poring through the list of homemade this and that, and finally ordered.
Jes waited until she’d written their orders on her little tablet, and since they didn’t have a single other place to start, she asked the waitress if she’d ever seen anyone around fitting Justice’s parent’s description. His father had an unusual look to him, with light eyes, light hair, and light skin. The humans would have said he looked albino. Recognition dawned in the waitress’s eyes.
Jes felt Justice go tight with realization.
The waitress turned to stare at Justice. Her gaze narrowed on his face. Her eyes widened, and she told them to wait there a minute, she had something for them, and she left toward the back. When she returned, she brought Jes a leather-bound journal. “I can save you the time asking all over town,” she said. She looked at Justice. “I should have recognized you straight off. You’re exactly how she described you. Your mom….”
Justice glared at her in fury. The look he gave her would have warned most to hold their tongues, but the waitress smiled kindly at him.
“Your momma told me all about you. Each of you. She came with your father every day. She left the journal here because we’re the only café in town. She said that if you ever came looking, you’d wind up here—if only to eat—and so you have.” She laughed. She gave him an entreating look. “She was the one who sent you that cryptic postcard.” She dropped her voice to a near-whisper. “She didn’t dare do anything else.” Her whisper was frantic now, and she leaned in toward him. “I think the postcard put them in danger because they disappeared after that.”
When Jes and Justice finally left the café, they were too stunned to speak. They got into the pickup and drove in silence. The waitress had said they wouldn’t find anything more, in this little town, and they were too amazed to head straight home. Besides, they wanted to look at the leather-bound journal.... So, they headed back to the motel. When they got there, Justice parked. They sat there for several long moments—neither of them saying anything. Finally, Justice drug himself out of the truck.
When they got to one of the rooms, Jes set it on the bed, and they both stared at it.
It was tooled leather, beautifully bound. And it might be from Justice’s mother, but it was the first real clue they had about that day, and they both knew it.
Finally, Justice looked at Jes. “I can’t. Will you?”
Jes nodded, swallowing. She picked it up with trembling hands, a
nd opened it to the first page. Looking down, her eyes filled full of tears as she read out loud to Justice.
“Dear Children,” she read, sinking to the bed. Justice had followed her, laying there zero facing her. She swallowed and forced herself to concentrate on her reading. “If you have this journal, it means you’ve found your way to this little town near the Garden of the Gods and beyond. I hope this finds you well. It’s in my deepest prayers to the Goddess that she watch over all of you—including Jes.”
At this point, Jes sucked in a breath, choking on her tears, and stumbled over the use of her name. She looked at Justice, wide-eyed, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. Looking back at the journal, she went on….
“Justice, you must be careful. I took a chance, leading you here. I dearly hope Jes is with you.” She glanced at Justice, at this. His gaze was soft. She swallowed and quickly read on. “I will not risk your lives any more than I have now. It was too important to get this one warning to you, not to take this one risk. But you have no idea the danger you’re in. And since I know you’ll go back to Chicago, they will know. They’ll all know. That’s why I had to take this risk. I hope you’ll forgive me. But Justice—they’ll be following you….
“So, I’ve written you as much as I can here, in hopes that you’ll understand what’s taken place—and why we had to leave. I know you’ve planned carefully—you and your sisters—as we taught you. All of you training, every single day, for what will take place….” Jes looked up at that point, frowning. He only watched her steadily, so she went back to reading. “But the time has come. As I know you are fully aware.
“Son, your father and I must have seemed very different to you and your sisters—long before we left. I am sorry for this. Things got difficult. There are still some things I must not speak of. I hope you’ll understand—when this is through.”
Jes stopped, looking at Justice, trying to gauge how he was taking his mother’s words, so far. He nodded, so she went on.
She was surprised to read the next words were directed to her. “Jes,” she read, “I’m afraid I must give you some heartbreaking news,” she sucked in her breath, unable to go on.
Justice took the journal from her trembling hands. Taking her hand in his, he read. “Jes, I’m afraid I must give you some heartbreaking news,” he reread. He squeezed her hand and read on. “I know how hard it must be, for all of you, to wonder what happened to us. I ‘m sorry, dear. It will be most difficult for you to learn that your mother died that day.
The day the rest of us disappeared.”
Jes sucked in her breath, as the blow of his mother’s words hit her midsection, like a fist.
“Her death is one of the reasons we had to disappear….” His voice trailed off. He let his mother’s journal fall to the bed, taking Jes into his arms while she cried her heart out, in deep, gulping sobs.
When she was spent, he put his arms around her, holding her close—and they slept.