Protector

Chapter 6-1

6

They drove for a while, far longer than Caitlin had anticipated. For some reason, she’d thought Alex’s house would be closer to the store, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Maybe he’d wanted some separation between his home and his work. Since it was dark, she couldn’t get more than an impression of businesses of all types sliding by past the car windows — restaurants, medical buildings, a mall, the inevitable Starbucks, grocery stores and drugstores and auto parts stores. At last they were turning, moving into a more residential area where the road sloped upward almost imperceptibly. Did he live up in the hills somewhere? She had to admit that her knowledge of Tucson and its environs was basically nil; since she hadn’t been the one driving when she came to town, nothing had left much of an impression on her.

Finally, they turned into a housing tract, one composed of large, new-looking homes, or at least as best she could tell in the subdued street lighting. After winding through a few more streets, Alex pulled into a driveway, then touched the remote clipped to the sun visor of his SUV. A garage door began to open, revealing probably the most spare and uncluttered garage Caitlin had ever seen. Almost everyone she knew in Jerome used their garage for storage, not to actually put their cars in.

But that didn’t seem to be Alex’s mode of operation. He parked the Pathfinder in the right-hand bay, close to a door she presumed led into the house. “Here we are,” he said, quite unnecessarily, but she figured he spoke more to fill up the silence than because he’d expected to startle her with that revelation.

“It’ll be good to get out of the car,” she replied. “I think I’ve spent most of today driving around.” Which, she realized, was only the truth. First the drive from Flagstaff to Jerome, then Jerome to Tucson…and then to Scottsdale and finally back down here. Hard to believe she’d done all that in the space of a day…and harder yet to believe everything that had gone on during those few short hours. Her mind had a hard time acknowledging that she really had just set out from Flag earlier that morning.

“Well, stretch your legs all you want,” Alex said, then headed back to the cargo area so he could retrieve her luggage.

Caitlin felt as if she should protest, should tell him she could take care of that herself. But she realized Alex was only trying to help. Anyway, she was tired. Exhausted, really. If he wanted to carry a couple of suitcases, she should let him.

So she remained silent as he got out her two bags, then waited as he went past her and led her into the house. As she followed him, she had to prevent herself from gawking at the place like some rube from the country who’d never been to the big city before. The place did look practically brand-new, and so did all the furniture. Travertine floors, and bronze and alabaster glass light fixtures, and — well, it was about as different from the big Victorian house she’d grown up in as a person could imagine. And she wouldn’t even bother to compare it to the shabby apartment she shared with Danica. The garage here was nicer than that.

Feeling somewhat cowed, she tagged along while Alex led her into a largish bedroom furnished with an oak daybed and matching dresser and nightstand. He set her bags down on the floor, which was covered in a fine-weave Berber carpet. “Here you go. I hope it’s okay.”

Hope it’s okay? She cleared her throat and replied, “It’s nice. I mean, really nice.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to kick herself. “Really nice”? Seriously?

Either Alex didn’t seem to have noticed the inanity of the remark, or was telling himself she’d had a rough day and so couldn’t really be expected to be all that eloquent. He went on, “The bathroom’s across the hall. There’s soap and clean towels, but if you need anything else — ”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I have all my shampoo and stuff.”

“Then how about some dinner?”

A few hours ago, she would have said she never wanted to eat again. Now, though, her stomach was telling her that it needed something to keep going. She wouldn’t be much use to Danica and Roslyn if she was so faint from hunger that she couldn’t concentrate.

“Sounds great,” Caitlin replied, and Alex smiled.

“Then let’s get that going.”

She trailed after him as he headed down the hall and then back into the huge space that seemed to be a combination living room/dining room/kitchen. Down a short hallway off to one side, she spied what seemed to be the family room, as one wall was dominated by a large flat-screen TV.

How much had this place cost? She was the first to admit she didn’t know anything about real estate, beyond what she could afford for half-rent on a dumpy two-bedroom apartment, but she guessed it had to be a lot. Did managing a grocery store really pay that well?

Not that she would ever ask such a rude question. No, she waited off to one side, near the enormous granite-topped breakfast bar, and watched as Alex pulled a paper-wrapped package of meat from the refrigerator. “We’ll go outside to grill this,” he told her, then seemed to give the lightweight cotton top she was wearing a second look. “It gets cold pretty fast once the sun goes down. Do you have something to put over that?”

Despite how hungry and tired she was, and the way the ever-present worry for Danica and Roslyn kept pushing at the back of her mind, Caitlin couldn’t help smiling. “I’ve been living in Flagstaff. Anything above sixty is going to feel downright balmy.”

Alex didn’t argue, but only grinned in return. “If you say so.”

They went outside, to an enormous covered patio with ceiling fans and spot lighting built right into the roof. It was furnished out here, too, with an outdoor sofa and chairs and cocktail table, and a little ways from that, a round table with four chairs. A pool glimmered blue-green in the dusk, and the whole place looked like something out of a magazine.

Ignoring all that inviting furniture, Alex headed straight for a big stainless-steel barbecue and popped open the lid. “The carne asada cooks pretty fast, so we won’t have to wait too long.”

That sounded good. In fact, it sounded so good that her stomach growled. Chagrined, she clapped her hands over her belly — as if that would shut it up — even as Alex chuckled.

“Not a moment too soon, I guess.” His expression sobered, though, as he asked, “Do you want to sit outside, or should we eat indoors?”

“Eat out here,” she said. To her, the air wasn’t chilly at all, but gently cool, soothing on her skin. And if it did get too cold, well, she could always run back inside and grab the denim jacket she currently had folded up inside her suitcase. “You have a gorgeous view.”

And it was gorgeous — the faintest glimmer of dying sunlight still etched the very edge of the horizon, while above big, bright stars were beginning to glitter in the velvety dark blue sky. The faint outlines of jagged mountains were a deep black against navy, giving structure to the night.

“Okay.” He paused, then asked, “Can you keep an eye on the meat while I run inside for a few things? Just flip ’em after a few minutes.”

That sounded easy enough. Anyway, she’d babysat plenty of burgers at McAllister Fourth of July gatherings in past years. “Got it,” she said, picking up the tongs Alex had left sitting on the slate counter to the right of the built-in barbecue.

He gave her a thumbs-up and went back inside. Was it strange that she felt this easy around him? Her surroundings were like nothing she’d ever experienced before, or even imagined, but despite that, she wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt good to stand here and smell the unfamiliar spices rising from the sizzling meat, to have the mild air flow over her bare arms. She could almost forget what had happened to her earlier that day.

Almost.

Even though she knew she was safe here, her entire body tensed as she recalled the way Matías’ black eyes had mocked her, the way he had held her. She had gotten away, true, but what was he doing now to Danica, to Roslyn?

No way of knowing, if the visions chose not to come. And she’d already discovered that they would only appear on their own timetable, and not hers.

Scowling, she flipped the meat over. It did look close to being done, probably because it was cut so thin. She’d had carne asada before, in quesadillas and burritos and whatnot, but never like this, plain.

Or almost plain. She saw Alex coming out through the sliding glass door, his hands full with a tray that held not just plates and napkins and flatware, but also bowls of what looked like cut-up cooked peppers, rice, some kind of cheese…and a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. Thank the Goddess.

“You were busy,” she said as he started setting everything out on the patio table.

“This?” His shoulders lifted. “Most of it’s just stuff from Trader Joe’s that I nuked.”

“Well, it still looks good.”

He came over to her then and cast a practiced eye over the skirt steak sizzling away on the grill. “Speaking of which, that looks about done. Let me dish it up.”

She handed over the tongs, and he picked up the carne, then deposited it on a plate. Standing this way, he was very close to her, and she shivered. In a good way…but still.

Seeming to notice, he inquired, “Getting cold?”

“No,” she said hastily. “Just hunger pangs, I guess.”

“Well, let’s fix that.”

They went and sat down, and he dished some rice and beans on her plate, along with a tortilla.

“I usually roll it in a tortilla and put some peppers on top. It’s good that way.”

Caitlin thought that sounded better than good, so she assembled her food the way Alex had described while he busied himself with uncorking the wine and pouring some into her glass.

“I hope you’re okay with the wine. Back in the car, it sounded as if you were worried about getting something to drink.”

Wincing, she said, “I hope you don’t think I’m a lush.”

“Hardly.” He flashed her a smile, then added, “I don’t know too many people who wouldn’t need a drink after what you’ve been through today.”

Maybe that was true. Right now she felt like a coward for sitting here on this fabulous patio and sitting down to eat with an equally fabulous guy. She should be doing something, shouldn’t she? There had to be something she could do to help her friends.

Problem was, there wasn’t much she really could do. Not until that third eye of hers…or whatever it was…woke up and started giving her some of the information she so desperately needed.

“Possibly,” she allowed.

Alex seemed to sense her internal turmoil, because he leaned forward slightly and said, “I know this must be hard for you, but really, I think the best thing to do is relax as much as you can. Worrying won’t change anything.”

That was probably true. And it seemed the quickest path to relaxation was drinking some of that wine, so she lifted her glass. “Okay…I’ll try.”

“That’s a start.” He raised his glass and clinked it against hers, as if sealing some sort of agreement.

She took a sip. Wine was sort of a part of Verde Valley culture, but her parents had been strict about her not drinking before she turned twenty-one. It hadn’t stopped her from trying alcohol, of course, since not everyone in town was as uptight on the subject of underage drinking, but she’d never been one of the party girls, the ones who managed to get wasted at almost every high school get-together. Anyway, no one drank wine at those parties. Beer and tequila shots and sometimes whiskey, all of which she’d thought were pretty nasty. Margaritas were a different story, but no one bothered with mixed drinks when it was so much easier to get drunk on the straight stuff.