Rebecca Zanetti: Fated

Oh, she understood all right. She straightened in her seat when he exited the highway at the edge of Mercy Lake, her safe little town on the outskirts of Boston. Her stomach dropped as she realized there was only one place they could be going. “You’re taking us to the private airport?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” The exclusive airport was used only for corporate jets and small water planes.

“Because that’s where the plane is.” His tone didn’t invite further discussion.

“I can’t fly somewhere in my nightshirt.” The comment slipped out before she could stop herself.

He turned in surprise, flashing a smile that did odd things to her belly. Man, she was losing it. “I told you to bring the basket of clothes.”

“Listen,” she tried reasoning with him again. “Let us go, and we won’t tell anybody. I promise.”

“I appreciate that,” Talen said dryly. “But I told you I can’t. You’re in danger.”

“Right. Danger.” Dread pooled in her stomach as they rolled to a stop before a sleek silver jet. He switched off the ignition and silence echoed throughout the space. He turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

“Are we going to have a problem getting on the plane?”

“We are not getting on that plane.” She needed to get Janie out of the car so they could run for help. She unsnapped her belt.

A hand on her arm and one at her hip easily lifted her over the console to settle on his lap where her ass briefly rested against the hard ridge of a well-built man. Another smooth motion and they were outside the vehicle with her cradled in his arms. His broad hand had protected her head from the steel carriage, even as she fought his hold.

She jammed an elbow into his ribs.

His face dipped to confront hers. “Cara. Enough. I doubt you want your daughter to see you slung over my shoulder being carried onto the plane. Flashing those pretty pink panties.”

Cara gaped at him, her breath coming in short gasps. He took advantage of the reprieve to drop her to her feet and open the rear door. “Unbuckle Janie.”

His warm body trapped her in place; she had no choice but to unbuckle her daughter. She lifted Janie up and small arms clutched her neck. “They’re still coming,” Janie whispered.

“I feel them, too,” Talen said, his breath stirring her hair. One hand enclosed her arm in a vise. “Let’s get out of here.” He slammed the door shut.

Waves of urgency battered Cara from both sides, propelling her toward the silent plane even as her mind rolled with questions. With reservations. Maybe she and Janie should try to take the Hummer.

“Stop thinking so hard.” Talen released her arm while giving her a gentle push up the small steps. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Go, Mama. Hurry,” Janie implored.

Cara gave in. She climbed up the steps to sit on a thick grey couch. Janie snuggled up to her side with a sigh of relief, and Cara buckled them both in. Talen secured the door and reached into a cubby above the windows for a blue blanket, which he handed to Cara with a grin. No threat came from him, at least none directed at her. As he dropped into a seat facing her on the couch across the narrow aisle, the engines roared to life, and the plane taxied toward the runway.

Talen allowed himself to relax as the plane leveled off. They were safe. He smiled at Janie while the girl studied him. She was awful tiny to have demolished three centuries of peace. Crocus blue eyes shot curiosity and daring from her young face as she spoke. “So, are you going to protect us?”

Cara jumped at the child’s voice. The small jet lifted into the air like a predator on a mission while two pairs of identical blue eyes focused across the tiny aisle.

“Is that all right with you?” He turned his gaze on the child. She fascinated him. So fragile, even the whispering wind would threaten her. A real child. Human.

Janie squinted before looking his frame up and down, and reaching a decision, she nodded solemnly, her “yes” a bare whisper of sound. The knuckles on her tiny fingers clenched white on her mother’s hand.

Talen remained silent for a moment, taking in the pale features of the two females. The blue blanket enfolded them both. Knowing full well what he pledged, he spoke. “Yes. I’m here to protect you.” His vow threaded through the cozy cabin, and the child let out her breath with a smile while Cara frowned, glancing around. Probably for a weapon.

He knew what he’d promised, and since he hadn’t broken a promise in his long life, he refused to start now. He studied the two as the plane gained altitude. Both had long, curly hair the color of burnished teak, deep blue eyes, and delicate bones. Something close to protectiveness nudged his conscience.

Janie gave him a toothless grin. “So you comed for us. Finally.”

She tugged the tattered brown bear closer to her chest, and Talen grinned. Mr. Mullet did indeed wear a faded blue mullet as his hairstyle. Talen settled into the plush couch. “I’m here for you, Janie.”

“Who are you?” Cara pulled Janie even closer.

Talen sighed. “I’ll explain once we get to DC, Cara. All I can tell you right now is that you’re safe.”

“I don’t think so. What the hell’s in DC?”

“Who is in DC.”

“All right”—her pretty eyes narrowed to daggers—”who the hell is in DC?”

The muted interior lights illuminated her fragile features. The stirring in his loins now made sense to him. He’d felt the change in his skin, in his blood the second he’d touched her, and now had proof of their connection on his palm. Forever. He refrained from studying his hand again—he’d do so later. “The Director of the U.S. Marshal’s Service.”

“You aren’t a U.S. Marshal.” She hurled the words as an accusation. A dare, even.

He grinned. “Not even close, darlin’.”

“Explain.”

The accusation and dare he could’ve ignored, but the plea, the concern from a mother attempting to protect her child, well, even he couldn’t disregard that. And considering they had just become his, he should try to make them happy.

“I don’t know all of the details, only that you’re in danger. The life you’ve been leading is now over.”

“What kind of danger?”

He studied her, wondering how much he should reveal. The woman looked to be on the edge, and unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do about it—if he told her everything, well …

“Your eyes are wrong.” Janie’s soft voice wound through the shrill sound of high-end jet engines.

“My eyes?” He fought a grin. His brother Dage was correct, as usual. Janie was beyond gifted, beyond a normal psychic.

“Yes. They’re not sposta’ be brown.”

“Maybe they aren’t,” he agreed.

“Contacts—like on TV?” Janie scrunched her face in a frown.

“Contacts,” he affirmed.

“Can you take ’em out?”

“Not yet. Later I will.”

“Okay.” The little girl leaned against her mother before closing her eyes with a sigh.

A chill skittered along Cara’s spine as she listened to the exchange. What was wrong with his eyes? Why did Janie know about it already? Why did the sweet child have to see the future at all?

If Miss Kimmie didn’t call to check on them, then surely Dr. Phillips, Cara’s boss, would call. The jerk was under a deadline to keep his grant, and he needed her at work. Her research into creating a virus that would enhance the crop yield of corn showed enough promise to glean two solid grants for the next year. And oh God. Her sister Emma would go freaking crazy. She’d tear apart the U.S. Marshal’s Service to find them.

Cara straightened in her seat, digging her nails into her moist palms as Talen kept his gaze on her. She lifted her chin to glare at the large man sitting so relaxed across the aisle. His size made her feel small. Vulnerable. Feminine.