Chapter Four
For the rest of the day, Dyuvad tried to pin Rachel down and ask her about the young men at the lake. She avoided him with the deftness of the wind sliding through the forest, often on the flimsiest of excuses. During the afternoon’s leisure activities, she clung to Yasmin’s side, chatting companionably with her next sister. After, she slipped into the kitchen and begged off talking to him in favor of preparing side dishes for the evening meal. When that was eaten and appreciated, she waved off his offer of aid and cleaned up the meal’s remnants herself, with Yasmin and her daughters for company.
That had exhausted the remainder of her time. She gave him a key to her home and invited him to use her entertainment center, then retired into her bedchamber, pleading fatigue.
If the situation were different, he might’ve been willing to wait her out. Rachel on her own wasn’t difficult to protect, but she wasn’t his assignment. Her daughter was, and with the children involved and the unknown threat still at bay, waiting wasn’t an option.
On the other hand, no woman appreciated being pushed. It was likely to get her dander up, as Fate put it, and that wouldn’t net Dyuvad the answers he needed.
That night, he lay in bed listening to insects chirping outside his window, contemplating the best way to break through Rachel’s reluctance. Charm wouldn’t do it. She seemed immune to his, her sweet blushes aside. His gut said honesty would be the best path, but how could he possibly tell her the truth?
He tucked both hands behind his head and grinned at the ceiling, imagining her reaction. Shock, disbelief, possibly the same smack to the arm she gave Fate when her brother made mischief.
He shook the thought away. Telling her was out of the question. She might react poorly or, worse, she might not believe him. So he’d have to find another way to wiggle her reason for leaving the beach after spotting those young men out of her.
He fell asleep sifting through ideas, and woke the next morning no closer to a solution than he had been the night before. He pulled on a pair of jeans, used the toilet, and brushed his teeth, all the while sorting through ways he could ease Rachel into opening up to him.
Rachel was already in the kitchen when he unlocked the door and entered. She whirled around, one hand on her heart, the other holding a spatula high.
He paused halfway through the entrance. “Good morning, Lady Rachel.”
She sagged against the counter and lowered the spatula. “Dyuvad. Sorry. I forgot you were here.”
“You forgot you rented your room to a stranger and gave him a key to your dwelling?”
“I would’ve remembered, soon as I woke up,” she muttered. She turned around and tucked the spatula into a drawer. “I was about to put coffee on.”
He shut the door gently behind himself. “Good. We can talk while you do that.”
“No, I need to wake the girls and—”
“After,” he said firmly. “Why did you wish to leave the recreational area yesterday? What have those young men done to deserve your mistrust?”
Her hands paused on the plastic canister she was opening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Answer me, Rachel.”
“ Now you call me Rachel? What is that, unfair argument tactics one oh one?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, determined not to allow her wit to sway him from his mission. “Mistruths, delays. Who is being unfair?”
She scowled at him over one stiffly set shoulder. “What’s between me and those men is none of your business, Dyuvad.”
“Then I need not worry that they will arrive here with the intent to harass you and your family, and me as your renter.”
Her scowl faded and her mouth snapped shut. She set the canister down and faced him, her arms crossed over her breasts, her firm ass against the counter. “It’s not those men I’m worried about, necessarily.”
“Then who?”
“Their boss, the gang’s leader. Miguel Ramirez. Or he’s one of the higher ups, anyway.”
“Gang?”
“You know, a gang. Bad guys doing bad things to people over drugs and prostitutes and illegally obtained cash? Or bad gals. Same thing.” She raked a shaky hand through her hair and sighed. “Where are you from that you’ve never heard of a gang?”
“A place where different terminology is used. Why would this gang be interested in you?”
“That’s a really long story.”
“I have time.”
“Of course, you do.” She put her back to him and reached for a canister sitting on the counter. “My ex-husband Juan got into trouble a few years back, before I divorced him. I don’t know the whys or hows, only that during one of the times we were separated, he fell in with a gang down in Gainesville. About broke his mama’s heart when she found out. I really need to get dressed, if we’re gonna talk.”
“No more delays. Finish your story.”
“Has anybody ever told you you’re a bossy son of a biscuit eater?”
He grinned at her stiff back. “Never. Continue, please.”
“Well, at least I got a please,” she muttered. “Anyhow, Juan tried to untangle himself once. He came here, wanting to reconcile, and I let him stay. Kelly was a little girl then, and girls need their fathers, too. Everything was good for a while. He helped out around here, did his best to spend time with Kelly. Then folks started showing up at all hours, demanding this and that. Mean looking folks with tattoos and guns and bad attitudes.”
“The men from the lake?”
“Not them, no, but men like them, or worse. Juan started disappearing during the day, sometimes at night, too. I found out I was pregnant with Tiny and kicked him out. Not long after, he was locked up for murdering a guy in Gainesville during an armed robbery.”
Rachel’s words halted abruptly. She poured water into a freestanding machine and switched it on. It gurgled to life and spit a stream of fragrant, brown liquid into a glass carafe, filling it, and she stood there with her head bowed and her hands clenched into fists against the countertop.
Finally, she breathed out a bitter laugh. “You must think I’m a pure blind fool for letting him come back.”
“It is not my place to judge, Rachel.” And he wouldn’t have regardless. Undoubtedly, she’d been trying to save her family. Who could fault her for that? “What happened to him?”
“He pled guilty in exchange for a reduced sentence. Me and Yasmin went to the hearing. Fate kept the girls. I couldn’t drag them through that, I just couldn’t.” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “That’s when Miguel and his cronies approached us. Said Juan owed him some money, but if we played real nice, came into the family, so to speak, he’d let it slide.”
“He did not mean to make you family,” Dyuvad said slowly.
“Not even close. I reckon he wanted us to hook or something.”
“Hook?”
“Sorry. I keep forgetting about your English. Hook, as in become hookers, as in pass us around among his men or sell us out to johns.”
She said the words flatly, as if they held no meaning to her, but the horror underscoring her tone was plainly audible. A slow, burning anger tightened Dyuvad’s gut and his own hands clenched into fists against the door. “You said no.”
She swiveled around so quickly, her hair flew into her face. She shoved it back and glared at him. “Of course, I said no. I ain’t no backwoods hick to be tricked into prostitution.”
“I was stating the obvious, Rachel, not impugning your honor. Miguel did not accept your answer.”
“No, he didn’t. No…” She slumped against the counter, her anger gone as abruptly as it had risen. “Miguel’s not exactly the kinda guy you say no to. He came by one night, tried to break in and take us. Luckily, Fate was staying over and sleeping on the couch. He called the police, then scared Miguel and his posse off with his shotgun.”
“They came back?”
“They tried. The sheriff had deputies do drive-bys for a week or two, and Fate slept on the couch for more than a month. Miguel eventually quit trying, but I don’t for the life of me believe he ever forgot. The divorce came through while all that was going on and I started sending Juan’s letters back to him unopened. It’s been a long time since anybody bothered us, Dyuvad, a really long time. I don’t want that to start up again.”
“Then it will not.”
“You can’t stop these people if they really want to get to you.”
He pushed himself away from the door and stared down at her, strong-willed Rachel with her stiff spine and tart attitude. She’d been rearing her children alone for so long, she’d forgotten how to accept a helping hand, even when she needed it. And she needed help now, needed him now. So did her daughters.
Somehow, the Net ‘path had known about Rachel’s predicament. For some reason he still couldn’t fathom, it had chosen him out of the billions of humans in the galaxy to help her and, by doing so, keep Tiny safe for whatever purpose the ‘paths needed her. But at least Dyuvad knew what he was protecting the child from. At least now he had a target .
And with a target, he could act.
“You will tell me everything you know about Miguel and this gang,” he said.
“It won’t help—”
“You will tell me, woman.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Now listen here, Dyuvad. You’re not my boss.”
He stalked toward her, closing the distance between them, and enunciated his words carefully so there would be no misunderstandings. “I am your family’s protector, Rachel Athena Hunter.”
She held up a hand, warding him off. “I’m a woman full grown and perfectly capable of seeing to my family’s protection, thank you.”
He pinned her against the counter, his hands braced one on either side of her hips, and leaned down, nose to nose with her. “I have no doubt of your fierceness, but fierceness alone will not stop these men. Do not set yourself against me on this.”
“I…” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her breaths shallowed. “Um. What were we talking about again?”
He smiled, satisfied to his bones with her response. A woman yielded to her man’s judgment on matters of security, as he yielded to hers in other ways. Rachel wasn’t his, true, but their temporary living situation was close enough to matings among the Pruxn? to work in the same way. She managed his activities on her farm, and in return, he afforded her the strength of his body, in whatever form she needed.
It would work perfectly.
He eased upright and leaned his hips into hers. “You were acquiescing.”
She blinked, clearing the dreamy expression from her features. “No, I was—”
“Acquiescing,” he said firmly, and kissed her before she could disagree. She mmmd against his mouth and softened, warming to the slow meld of his flesh with hers, and something hot and needy flared to life within him. He reined it in, forcing himself to gentle his touch, to grip the counter and not her hips, to savor and taste, not devour.
The temptation was there to tease her into opening for him, to ease his hand under her shirt and touch her bare skin with his. To push her faster and harder than he’d ever pushed a woman before, and possibly push his skittish landlady right out of his arms, and him right out of her life.
He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, and their sharp breaths mingled in the space between their mouths. There was no rush to know her, no hurry. They had time to learn each other, later, after everyone was safe and Rachel learned to trust him.
“Tell me what you know about Miguel,” he whispered.
Her laugh was husky and soft, and her fingers a welcome heat against his bare stomach. “I think better when you’re not so close.”
He straightened away from her, giving her the reprieve she needed. For now. “Better?”
She placed both hands flat on his stomach and shoved gently. “No, Dyuvad. Honestly. I need more than a foot of space unless you want to go hungry.”
“Two feet and no more,” he teased, though he had only a vague idea how much space a foot was compared to Galactic Standard measurements. “Talk quickly, woman. Your daughters will awaken soon and there is much work to be done.”
“A woman’s work,” she muttered, and retrieved a rectangular box from a cupboard. “Cold cereal this morning, and that’s what you get for crowding me.”
He grinned. Crowding wasn’t the word he would’ve used, but he let it go. Rachel could have her space as long as he got the information he needed. Later, though, he was going to kiss her again, and she would kiss him back and feed the passion blossoming between them.
Rachel thought about that kiss all day long. Her lips were still tingling when she went out to milk the goats and see to their feed. Georgette about got away from her, too, would’ve if Dyuvad hadn’t come whistling along behind her, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Maybe she could’ve forgotten it if he’d been fully dressed. Apparently, that would’ve been too much to ask. He’d buttoned his jeans and gone shirtless. Hadn’t even bothered to tie his boots up or anything before he’d sauntered out, but that wasn’t what held her attention. His chest was a mile wide if it was an inch, all smooth skin and delicious tan over hard muscles, and his stomach was lean as a washboard. She’d had her fingers on that stomach, felt it tighten and crease every time Dyuvad brushed his mouth along hers.
And that tattoo. It’d changed colors during their kiss, from solid black to muted shades of reds and golds. She’d wanted nothing more than to run her hands over it or maybe her mouth. Still did, truth be told.
Rachel sucked in a breath and put her back to that temptation. A body could only take so much. Nigh on three years was a long time for a woman to do without, even a woman who believed sex should be confined to the marital bed.
Figuratively speaking.
Rachel came to a lot of hard truths that day. For one, those tattoos weren’t the only temptation she faced. Dyuvad had broken off that kiss about three shakes before her mind could drift around to the idea of him taking her right there against the counter. She thought about it later, though, way more than a God fearing woman oughta, that was for sure. What would it have felt like for him hoist her onto the counter with those big hands of his and wedge himself between her thighs?
She finished her goat chores with her sex tingling and her nipples budded into tight nubs, and moved on to weeding the vegetable garden protected by the highest, most goat-proof fence she and Fate had been able to cobble together. Truth was, she wanted Dyuvad to do it again, and it didn’t shame her a’tall. Why should it? She was a grown woman, unattached save for her kids and Fate, and Dyuvad was a grown man. A good one, she suspected, in spite of his high-handedness.
And that was all the introspection she could handle for one day.
She attacked the weeds with a vengeance, pouring out her newly discovered sexual frustration on a row of unsuspecting corn, beans, and squash she’d interplanted. Dyuvad and the girls stayed out of her way, occupying themselves with who knew what. Rachel tuned one ear to the low rumble of Dyuvad’s accented English and the girls’ bright chatter, and settled herself in for a good morning’s work.
Along about midmorning, Tiny’s laughter faded. The sun burned brightly in a robin’s egg blue sky and the wind stirred lazily through the shoulder high corn. Sweat coated Rachel’s skin and seeped into her clothes. They clung to her, along with half a garden of dirt.
She finished the last row she’d intended to weed, then stretched out her aching back, satisfied with her progress. The beans would be in soon. Corn, too, and the tomatoes. Dyuvad might like those. He hadn’t turned his nose up at anything she’d given him so far, though he acted like he’d never eaten most of what she’d cooked. What kind of a man hadn’t tasted bacon?
Maybe he was Muslim.
She tossed the last weed into the compost pile in the corner of the fenced-in area, hefted her hoe across one shoulder, and fastened the garden gate securely behind herself. No, he couldn’t be Muslim. They didn’t eat pork at all. Jews, neither. Hindus were vegetarians, or was that Buddhists?
Maybe he was just from a country that hadn’t discovered the gustatory pleasure of pan-fried bacon, was all.
Except she had this funny feeling tucked deep inside her that Dyuvad had never even seen a lot of the fruits and vegetables she kept on hand, let alone tasted them. It was almost like he was experiencing food for the first time, testing the first bite, savoring the next, wolfing down the last. Like a man who’d only ever eaten nutritional supplements or something equally tasteless .
Like one who hadn’t eaten regular food at all.
She ambled up the path from the garden to the house, around the remnants of the orchard her grandparents had planted and her parents had let go, along the outside of the fence penning the goats out of mischief. When she got to the house, a sight greeted her. Dyuvad was sitting on the porch steps holding a library book and wearing his fancy watch, a pair of shorts they’d picked up at Wal-Mart yesterday, and not a stitch besides. Kelly sat on one side of him, Tiny on the other, both dressed in play shorts and t-shirts.
Rachel paused at the corner of the house and leaned against the hoe, listening carefully. What were those three up to?
“You sure you want me to read it, Mr. Dyuvad?” Kelly asked. “I ain’t never knowed a grownup what couldn’t read.”
“I haven’t yet learned to read your language,” Dyuvad said.
“You gotta say ain’t,” Kelly corrected. “Else you sound like a teacher or something.”
Rachel stifled a laugh. She’d expected Kelly to help Dyuvad relax his language a little. Not exactly like that, though.
“Today, I am a teacher, Lady Kelly, and you are mine. Here. What does this say?”
Kelly scratched the end of her nut brown nose and tipped the book toward her. “It says the Earth is, like, a gazillion miles away from the sun.”
Dyuvad clucked his tongue. “Don’t summarize. Read every word.”
“That’ll take all day!”
“Only if you procrastinate.”
“But every word? That’s kinda hard, Mr. Dyuvad.”
“We’re both learning about the Earth, remember? And if we finish this section, maybe we’ll have time to learn another constellation before lunch.”
Kelly heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Ok, all right. Gimme the book.”
Dyuvad obligingly handed the book over. Tiny protested and crawled right into his lap, chattering away in her made-up language. Surprisingly, Dyuvad answered her in kind, dropping into a guttural drawl, then tacked on, “In English, Lady Bettina.”
That startled Rachel good. She hadn’t told Dyuvad Tiny’s full name. They rarely used it, hadn’t since she was born. Bettina had been too much of a mouthful for Kelly to handle, so they’d shortened it to Tiny and the nickname had stuck.
But how had Dyuvad known that name?
Rachel shook her head, refusing to let even a whiff of unease build in her mind. There had to be a reasonable explanation, just like there was a reasonable explanation as to why Dyuvad didn’t know what bacon was and how he understood Tiny when nobody else could.
She backtracked to the shed, cleaned the dirt off the hoe, and stored it. Yup, she was certain there was a reasonable explanation for all that, and Dyuvad was going to spell it out as soon as the girls went down for a nap that afternoon.
After lunch, Rachel put Tiny to bed for a nap and Kelly to bed with a book for a nice, little siesta. She came back into the kitchen and found Dyuvad cleaning up their sandwich makings.
“I can do that,” she said.
He zipped a bag of prepackaged deli meat closed and stuffed it into the fridge. “I’ve got it. You should sit down and rest while you can.”
“I rested enough over lunch.”
“Hardly. I’ve never seen a woman as restless as you. Even my mother could sit still longer.”
“There’s a lot going on.”
“And plenty of help with it.” He capped the mayo and put it away, then twisted the tie on the bread bag. “Your daughters and I can help.”
“Y’all help enough.”
“Only when you allow it. Now sit.”
Rachel bristled a little at that. A man hadn’t told her what to do since her daddy died, including Juan. “Now listen here, Dyuvad.”
He turned around, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I’m listening.”
His biceps flexed, twitching his tattoo, and her eyes fell on it. It was an odd blue color, barely lighter than black, about the same color as Dyuvad’s eyes. Her fingers itched to trace the design and the skin around it, and maybe to wander a little farther afield. She curled them into a balled up fist and dropped into a chair, her anger forgotten.
“You wanted to tell me something?” Dyuvad prompted.
Yes, she did. She nodded at a chair and waited for him to take it, then said, “What were you and the girls doing this morning?”
“Kelly showed me how to gather eggs from Fate’s chickens. We made her and Tiny’s beds and mine.”
“You made beds.”
“I asked Kelly to show me what chores she normally does. It was a long list.”
Rachel ignored his faint smile. “You were reading when I came up from the garden.”
“Kelly wishes to be an astronomer.” He slid lower in the chair and his smile widened into a wicked grin. “I have some knowledge of space.”
Why that smile made her think he had more than some knowledge was beyond her, but there it was, and she couldn’t quite let go of it and move on. “What kind of knowledge?”
“The kind that can be useful to an inquisitive mind.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
His smile faded, though sultry humor glimmered in his eyes. “What do you really want to know?”
“Why you’re here.”
He shrugged. “I needed a place to stay.”
“But why us?”
“This is where I was sent.”
She threw her hands up in the air and thumped her back against the chair. “For Heaven’s sake, Dyuvad. Don’t you think I’m entitled to a better answer than that?”
He leaned forward, all traces of humor gone. “Would you believe me if I said I’m here to watch over you? That there are those in the wider universe interested in making sure your daughters grow to adulthood and fulfill their destinies?”
“That’s…” She blew out a puff of air. “Pure plum crazy. We’re nothing special.”
“Yes, you are. Kelly is incredibly intelligent, Tiny is…” He folded his hands together and tapped them against the table’s top. “A very unique little girl, and you’re their mother. A strong, attractive woman—”
Oh, God. This man, this god of a man with his beautiful everything and mouth-watering tattoos, thought she was attractive?
“—who needs a little help. Why did you let me stay?”
It took her a minute to switch directions and register his question. Unfortunately, the first thing that popped out of her mouth was the unvarnished truth. “Because I needed the money.”
“Just so,” he said. “But you would never have rented the room to someone untrustworthy regardless of your need, would you?”
Well, didn’t that just put a wrench in her questions? “No.”
“You’re a good judge of another’s character.”
She always had been, right up until Juan had fallen into trouble. It was the one, glaring flaw in her otherwise spotless record of sorting the good apples from the bad. “I was.”
“You are,” he insisted. “Yesterday, I watched the way you reacted to the people around you. A few you trust completely. Some you trust, but only so far, and others you trust not at all, though you don’t know them. What does your instinct say about me?”
She swallowed hard and touched her heart, the very heart that had been telling her what kind of man Dyuvad was from the get-go. “I can trust you.”
He nodded once and slumped into the chair again. “As I trust you.”
“But you don’t know me! ”
“I know enough.” His watch buzzed once and blinked. He tapped its surface and stood, rising to his full height in a slow, muscle-flexing stretch. “Fate will be here soon. He and I are going into town today to gather supplies to paint your house.”
“When did you talk to…” She shook the question away. The ways of men were beyond her, always had been, and every little thing Dyuvad did wasn’t her business anyway unless it affected the girls. Besides, if he could motivate Fate to paint the house, who was she to argue? “Let me get money for the paint and all.”
He ran a fingertip down her nose, then slid it across her lower lip. “Consider this partial payment for room and board.”
He was gone before she could say a word to the contrary, and like a lump, she sat right where she was, holding one hand over her tingling mouth as the screen door slapped shut behind him. Lordy, that man could fire a light bulb from sixty feet away, couldn’t he, and all that with a single touch and a smoldering look.
And her still in the dark as to why he was there and what he was up to. She shook her head and got up to finish cleaning the kitchen. He was right about one thing, though. She did trust him, had since the minute she’d laid eyes on him, and wasn’t that odd?
Tiny did, too, and that little imp didn’t trust nobody outside of family, never had. And Kelly, sitting there calm as a laying hen, instructing Dyuvad on the finer points of mountain slang. Shy as a bug in a rug Kelly, who never opened her mouth to strangers, let alone looked them in the eye, had taken right to Dyuvad.
Rachel tucked the loaf bread into the bread box. Maybe it didn’t matter why he was there, though she’d be a cornmeal fried catfish if she’d let it go. No, the girls liked him, and since they did, knowing the whys right this minute wasn’t all that important. She’d wiggle it out of him sooner or later. In the meantime, she had a list of errands a mile long for him and Fate to run while they were in town picking up house painting supplies.
She grinned and hopped to making a list. Poor Dyuvad hadn’t known what trouble he’d landed in when he’d come here, but he was about to find out.