Ash nodded and followed him back to the Jeep. She was standing beside her door when she felt something sting her head, just inside the hairline beside her right temple. She swatted at it. The thing fell on the ground. She was relieved it was a bug and not a bat, but when she looked into the woods a few feet away from her, she saw Flynn.
She gasped. He said, speaking directly into her mind the way Merc could, Now you’re mine.
That freaked her out. “Merc—Flynn’s here.”
Merc looked where she was pointing, then back at the body bag he was getting situated in the small cargo area. “Get in the car. We have to go.” He finished up in the back, then went around to her side and held her door.
“Did you see him?”
“No. Doesn’t mean he’s not there. Get in.”
“He said, ‘Now you’re mine.’ What did he mean by that?”
“Who knows with Flynn.”
She buckled up as he got in. He put the Jeep in gear and started down the road, moving cautiously.
Ash folded her knees and braced her heels on the seat, wrapping her arms around them. She felt nauseated—the aftereffect of so much adrenaline. “Are we still going to Lautaro’s?”
“Yeah. We can crash there, then head home. Or we can just head out tonight from there. We’ll see how we feel when we get there.”
“Are you really all right?” Ash looked him over. He had several nasty gashes on his arms and torso. She couldn’t see how badly scraped up his legs were. His grip on the steering wheel was firm. He didn’t seem to be suffering any of the shakes or shock she was. “Does this Jeep have a first-aid kit? You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll be mostly healed by the time we get to Lautaro’s. Don’t give it another thought.”
A couple of hours later, they parked in the courtyard of a beautiful Colonial home. Some part of Ash’s brain registered what she could see of the lush landscaping and inviting veranda from the outside lights, but the rest of the details about the house blurred together. She got out of the car as Merc grabbed their things.
The front door opened. Lautaro stood there with a worried expression, checking them over. Merc didn’t say anything, just led her inside.
They walked through a large entryway into a massive living room. Lamps spread a warm glow over the furnishings. Besides the two large sofas, there were several arrangements of armchairs and tables spread around the room. It looked perfectly situated to host several clusters of visitors. Ash made a mental note that she should come back for that visit that never happened.
But maybe not for a while.
A long, long while.
She realized Merc and their host were talking. She hadn’t caught much of what they said. When Lautaro finished questioning Merc, he turned his attention to her. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. As dark as espresso, they seemed to take a reading of her entire emotional and physical state.
He looked at Merc. “You are, of course, welcome to stay here, but you may prefer to head out tonight. I think Ash might like to get settled at home.”
Home.
She loved her little cottage. Loved her job. Loved her life back in the real world. Usually, at the end of a trip, she never wanted to go home. But not tonight. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be back in her own place, to sleep in her own bed.
She began to shake. “I think he’s right, Merc.”
Merc put his arm around her and pulled her close. She felt him nod. His cheek rubbed her bug bite, irritating her just a bit.
It was definitely time to go home.
“I left a mess in the Jeep,” Merc said.
“No worries. It needed to be detailed anyway.” Lautaro laughed. “Can I send you a meal or offer you something before you go?”
Ash looked at Merc and shook her head. “I can’t eat right now. I don’t know I’ll ever be able to eat again.”
“You will,” Lautaro said. “I was following along with things. We’ll talk when you get back.” His voice was rich and lyrical, spoken with a heavy Spanish accent.
A servant came out with a tray that held two bottles of water. Ice cold, they were sweating droplets of condensation. Merc took them and handed her one.
“Take a few minutes to refresh yourselves. Merc, you know where the guest rooms are. You should clean up before heading home. If Liege sees you like you are, he’ll get all mother-ish.”
Hearing him say Sam’s secret team name made her wonder if Lautaro was a mutant too.
I am. Lautaro smiled as his voice slipped into her mind. You are safe among us.
“Right.” Merc nodded. “Good call.” He held Ash by the shoulders to get a good look at her. “A quick shower would feel great, yeah?”
She nodded, feeling too numb for words.
Once again, he shouldered their things. Taking her hand, he led her up a wide staircase. The risers were decorated with beautiful hand-painted blue and yellow tiles that contrasted with terra-cotta treads.
She hadn’t noticed from the outside, but the house was built in an L shape. The short and long wings met at the top of the stairs. Merc led her toward the left and opened the second door on the left. It looked heavenly—dark wood flooring, whitewashed walls, and furniture made from tropical woods. The bed linens were crisp white cottons. Mosquito netting covered the top and sides of the bed.
Merc dropped their things on the floor. “I’m sorry you had to see that fight.” He put his hands on her shoulders, then moved them down her arms.
Flashes of the fight dashed through her mind. She shook her head, trying to block them. “I’m going to wait for my shower until we get home. I left my other outfit drying in the Jeep.”
“I’ll get your stuff. You should shower. It’ll help wash away what happened. I’ll see if Lautaro has a change of clothes for you.”
“Because he just happens to stock clothes for random chicks that drop in?”
“Because he’s a prepared host.”
“Yeah. That makes sense.”
Merc frowned. She knew she was being peevish, but she was tired and out of sorts.
“This is his B&B. He’s stocked for all kinds of eventualities.”
Ash nodded and crossed her arms. “Right. Sorry.”
Merc stripped and went to a dresser. He pulled out a gray pair of boxer briefs and held them up. “No worries. I’ll be five minutes, then we’ll head out.”
Ash caught sight of the slashes on his discarded clothes. The jagged rips were dirty but bloodless. She looked at the corresponding places on his body, but saw mere scratches.
“Merc, wait.” Ignoring his growing interest in her, she walked around him, touching his skin near the wounds. “This doesn’t make sense.” She held up his shredded T-shirt. “How could you heal so quickly?”
Merc’s face became serious. He stared into her eyes. She felt his thoughts—the weight of them, anyway.
“Guerre healed me. I mend quickly on my own, but since we’re a long way from home, he thought it best if he sped things along.”
Right. Guerre was their healer, the guy that Flynn and the Omnis were after.
Because all of that made sense.
“When did he do this?”
“While we drove.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”