Fallen Redemption (The Trihune Series Book 1) Page 11

  Cade jerked his head in a short nod as if her expression answered some unvoiced question. He set her down and stepped back.

  She wanted to protest. Pull him back into her arms. Instead, Emma wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. It was cold all of a sudden, which made no sense because the water was warmer than his skin.

  “So what do we do now?” She was proud her voice gave nothing away.

  Cade moved to the adjacent edge and laid his arms on the top of the pool. His gaze was warm. “What would you do if you weren’t a prisoner right now?”

  Prisoner? Emma’s brows pulled in. How could her reasoning have changed in as little as five minutes? Easy. No kidnapper could kiss like that. He was waiting for an answer, patient. “I’d be at home painting.”

  He cocked his head. “You wouldn’t be spending time with your family and friends? Celebrating your Christmas?”

  OMG. Christmas! She’d completely forgotten. Wanted to forget, actually, but the Fates normally didn’t grant that wish. Maybe she’d try getting sick and knocked unconscious the next holiday. Avoid the pain. Ha. Wait. Her Christmas? Neither stringed lights, decorated trees, or tinsel decorated their walk to the pool. “You don’t celebrate Christmas?”

  “We do offer blessings to the Sonh on the day of his birth, but not on December 25.” Before she could question that he continued. “You celebrate, though. Wouldn’t you be spending time with your family and friends?”

  On cue the familiar pang pierced her chest. “My parents are dead.” She stilled for a moment, surprised at how easy the words left her mouth. A phrase she’d never uttered out loud. Ever.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Emma steadied herself for pity or gushing concern. There was none. “They died when I was fourteen.” Oh, Jesus.

  His expression didn’t change.

  A damn burst inside her body. She didn’t have strong enough boards readily available to build it back again. “They were coming home from mass. A holy day of obligation.” Strange. The never-before-uttered words tumbled easily from her lips. “I’d begged to stay home to study for a test. Mom said no, but my dad convinced her. I didn’t even open the book while they were gone.

  “My dad and I were close. He’d examine every one of my paintings like he was viewing a Monet.” She smiled softly. “I was nowhere near museum-level or even gallery-level quality.”

  Cade smiled, but said nothing, silently encouraging her to go on.

  “Dad believed my paintings would be in an art gallery one day. We planned to visit the Louvre after high school. It was to be my graduation present.” Emma paused. “After their death, I moved in with Edna.” Wow. Second time she said it. “She was my mother’s friend. Also very religious.” She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t too bad. Edna didn’t have other children. She must’ve found it difficult to take on a teenager whose parents just died. Eventually she became family.” Pause. “She died when I was nineteen.”

  Silence reigned for a while.

  “You still paint and draw?” Cade’s voice was soft, but held no emotion other than curiosity.

  “I do.”

  “No art galleries, yet?”

  An image of her closet full of paintings and drawings sprang into her head. Her father’s unfulfilled dream for his only daughter. They’d spent so much time bonding over her art. Dad would be so disappointed in her. She gasped softly. The pain finally found her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Emma lifted her head, realizing she’d allowed her emotions to play over her face the entire time. As easy as breathing, she forced them behind her shield.

  “Don’t do that.” He spoke fast, an edge to his voice.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

  His hand captured hers gliding through the water. How could he move so quickly? She lifted her eyes.

  “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  Unexpected tears pricked at his soft tone. And she thought he was the bad guy. Emma blinked rapidly. Cleared her throat. “No. No art galleries. I’m not that great.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  She had no response for that.

  “Tell me your favorite artists.”

  A broad smile spread across her face. “Titian is my favorite. He was labeled as the greatest Venetian artist of the sixteenth century. His work covered a variety of themes. Portraits, landscapes, mythological and religious subjects. And his use of color during that time period was so vivid. Norman Rockwell was great, too. I loved his illustrations of the family life. I paint and draw landscapes mostly, but whenever I add figures, especially with a close up on the face, I always rely on the skills I learned from studying his work. Girl at the Mirror takes my breath away every time I see it. And then there’s Francisco De Goya. A court painter during the eighteenth and nineteenth century. He was commissioned for a lot for portraits. His later work took on a darker side, but it still outstanding. I actually didn’t really study him until after my parents died.” Emma frowned, shook her head. “I like the stories you can find in an artist’s work. Every time you look at the painting the story changes based on what’s happening in your life now. Baroque art is great for that. You can stand in front of a Baroque period painting and almost feel the emotions the painters felt when they held the brush in their hands.” She paused to take a breath and then realized Cade was staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Her cheeks grew warm. “Sorry. I can get carried away sometimes.”

  He smiled. “I don’t mind. I could listen to you talk all day.”

  Again words failed her.

  A while later they left the water to sit on the lounge chairs. It was her turn. Asking questions was something she excelled at. Most of her life she’d avoided answering unwanted questions, but this time the usual panic that normally floated through her was nonexistent. Deflect. Don’t answer. Don’t give anything away. Distract. This time she wanted to hear the answers.

  “What’s your tattoo of?” She pointed to his upper right arm.

  He paused then maneuvered so she could inspect the ink.

  The tattoo was simple in design, three red wine colored circles interlocked and a scripted capital B was in the center. The letter had an old world quality to it. “Beautiful. What does the B stand for?”

  “The family name.”

  Emma resisted the urge to follow the circles with her finger. “Do you have any other distinguishing marks on you?”

  Cade froze.

  What had she said?

  He raised his head and her gaze fell on the scars on the side of his face. Shit. She was such a dumbass. “Cade, I—”

  His voice was low, hoarse. “You’re the first person outside this house who doesn’t notice my scars. It’s like you don’t even see them.”

  Her gaze roamed over his face, pointedly stopping at the deep pits by his left eye. “I don’t. I simply see . . .” You. She didn’t voice the last word.

  Emma quickly deflected with another question. “What do you do when you’re not nursing sick women?”

  Cade was silent for a moment and she wondered if he was still upset over her asinine question, but then he said softly, “I like to read.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? Like spy novels.”

  “Some of those. I read all kinds. Classics, mysteries, nonfiction, romance, legal thrillers.”

  “Did you say romance?” Surely she heard him wrong. Wait. Was he blushing?

  “I’ve read romances before. It’s actually my favorite type.”

  That was . . . really hot.

  “I have a library,” he said quickly. “It’s my favorite, well second favorite, place to be. Floor to ceiling shelves. Lots of windows. Comfortable couches.”
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  “Sounds like a good place to escape to.” Where was his first favorite place to be?

  He blinked as if he’d never thought of it like that. “Yes.” Cade agreed, then hesitated. “A good place to paint, too. Because of the windows. The light.”

  A fissure of emotion ran through her. She cleared her throat. “I’d like to see it.” Emma said quietly, almost a whisper. Because if she whispered then it meant she was less than likely falling way too fast for a man she thought of as a kidnapper just last hour. What she really would like to do was paint him. Sitting in a chair, book in hands. Once he was deep in the story would his face soften? Would stress leave his eyes? Would her feelings become clearer through her artist eyes?

  “I lost my wife and two children to small pox.”

  Emma’s head shot up and she sucked in a breath. The words had emerged with no inflection. Her gaze drifted to the scars on his face, his daily reminder of all he’d lost. She escaped memories by shoving them in a box, deep, deep inside herself. He’d have to avoid all mirrors and reflective surfaces to forget his. Emma said nothing. Asked no questions. She knew that tone. Lived it for many years. When he was ready he’d speak on it.

  Strange. How similar their lives ran. Both alone. Both choosing loneliness over pain. Maybe it was no surprise she’d blabbed all her secrets.

  “We lived in Wales.”

  “Did you like it there?”

  “My daughters loved it.”

  Cade hadn’t really answered her question.

  “Sally Mae and Laura were only eighteen months apart. There was a brook near the house. One spring both girls came to me sopping wet, tears streaming down their faces. I’d thought they were injured. ‘No, Daddy,” Sally cried. ‘We were trying to get the tadpoles out before the frogs came and ate them.’”

  Emma laughed. “That’s adorable.”

  He froze. Some emotion passed across his face. Death was more painful for the ones left alive. Without thinking, she reached out and squeezed his hand. After a moment, he returned the pressure.

  When the towel was no longer doing its job they changed and headed upstairs. During their talk, she’d held herself back from mentioning the alley. Half of her didn’t want to know and the other half—all right, the other half was cowering in terror. Some parts of life were better lived in the dark.

  Within moments of entering her room, Jeeves appeared with a tray of soup. Cade requested a bowl too, which seemed to shock the butler for some reason. They ate at a small table Cade carried in. If they were at a restaurant she’d have called it a date. But they weren’t so she quickly banished the thought. When her stomach was full she climbed back into bed watching through drooped eyelids as Cade reconnected the IV.

  Emma fought sleep, not wanting to ruin the relationship that sprung between them and was afraid the spell would break once she closed her eyes. Would her feelings change when she woke? Would he go back to being a prison guard?

  Hopefully not.

  She propped the pillows behind her head as Cade took his spot in the chair. “Tell me more of your life in Wales.”

  His eyes tightened. It was the slightest movement in the corner of his eyes. Emma wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t spent the last hours together. “I’m sorry. It must remind you of your family. Forget I said anything.”

  “No. I don’t mind. What do you want to know?”

  “Anything. I’ve never left the country before. What’s it like there?”

  Cade’s brows wrinkled. “I haven’t been back in a long time.”

  “Tell me what it was like when you were there. Please.”

  He began to talk. His voice was methodic and soothing. It seemed to touch a deep part in her. The spot she always kept in tight control lest the unravel started. She could relax in this man’s presence and not be afraid the hole of her parents’ death would suck her in. Cade was her safety net.

  That was a scary thought. Relying on someone else was dangerous.

  Cade stopped talking when slow, deep breaths filled the room indicating Emma had lost the battle and slept. He stood, studying her relaxed features. She’d taken his breath in the pool. The way her wet shirt clung to her body. Rounding the bed, he dislodged the IV tube without disturbing her and discarded the empty IV bag.

  Her eyes and soft plea had caused him to spill his guts. Cade talked of things he hadn’t thought of in years. He became addicted to the curiosity in her gaze. And when she’d laughed, dear heavens, it was better than slaying ten Fallen.

  After inhaling every word of her life, he’d been hungry for a second helping with dessert. He’d have these memories for the rest of his long existence. Something to keep him warm at night.

  For a brief moment he’d wanted to bare it all. Believed she’d still feel the same. It was a dream. One he couldn’t believe in. He sought redemption for his sins. Not illusions. Not acceptance. Certainly not love. Cade would relish this time with her and repent for his sins when she was gone.

  It was three hours until his achs were back. There was enough time before his brothers’ return to implement his plan. Resisting no longer, he swept his fingertip down her cheek. He left the room with a smile across his face.

  Chapter 8

  Lucas’s fingers tapped the keyboard in a quick, steady rhythm. They didn’t slow when Cade walked in. “I’m setting the grid for projection.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Lucas’s head jerked up. His mouth fell open a moment later. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Cade stopped. He looked down his body then back to Lucas. “What?”

  “You’re smiling.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You don’t smile unless you’re standing over a dead Fallen and even then it’s more of this weird grimace.”

  Cade rolled his eyes and continued to the head of the table. “Go ahead and bring up the grid.”

  Lucas gave him one last probing stare before turning back to his laptop.

  When Sarid and Gabe arrived Cade started the meeting. “Give me a recap of your assigned area.”

  The answers were all the same.

  “I can’t believe we’ve gotten them all.” Cade shook his head slightly.

  “Were you able to double back, Sarid?” Lucas looked across the room.

  “Yes. I found nothing. Not even a scent.”

  “So our kill numbers have dwindled since we started the new strategy and tonight not one Fallen was found.” Cade frowned.

  “It’s too easy,” Lucas commented.

  “I agree.”

  “This has happened before,” Gabe said.

  Cade turned, his face blank.

  Gabe motioned to the laptop in front of Lucas. “May I?”

  Lucas handed it over. Gabe took a flash drive from the pocket of his dark brown slacks. With a few taps a chart projected on the wall. He stood and walked over to the image. “Six months ago there was a decrease in the number of kills. Lucas, can you hit the left arrow.” The image changed to another chart. “Another six months before it happened again.”

  Cade leaned forward in his seat. “How far back does this go?”

  “I started tracking a year and ten months ago and every six months, on the dot, there’s a decrease of action.”

  “It could mean we’ve cleaned the city and the lapse is their time to regroup,” Cade said.

  “Or it could be the Fallen leave the area,” Gabe replied.

  Cade leaned back. “Why would they leave and return? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Gabe’s gaze shifted back to the image but not before Lucas caught the flash of hurt in his eyes.

  “How long does this lapse normally last?” Lucas asked. Cade’s eyes flashed to him, lips pulled down.

  “Four to
seven days.”

  “Is it safe to assume there’ll be no problems during Elias’s visit?”

  “Yes.”

  Cade cleared his throat. “If your theory pans out, Gabriel,” his voice implied he doubted it. “It means Followers will be safe while we’re at the ceremony.”

  Gabe nodded.

  Cade clapped his hands. The sound echoed around the room. “Okay, we’re done here.”

  No one moved.

  Cade’s gaze swept the group.

  “What’s the matter with your face?” The corner of Gabe’s lip was lifted in disgust.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re smiling again.” Lucas answered quietly.

  Cade glanced from Lucas to Sarid to Gabe. “Nothing’s the matter with my face,” he growled, shoving the papers together in front of him. “Heavens, I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to smile.”

  Lucas cleared his throat, suddenly absorbed in shutting down the computer.

  “The only times I’ve seen you smile is when your katana or fists are involved.” Sarid said from the doorway.

  Cade snorted. “I highly doubt it.”

  “No it’s true,” Gabe agreed. “Most of the time it’s the I’m disgusted with being a Behnshma face or the stronger I wish I were a Follower face.”

  “How about the I’m going to kick Gabriel’s ass face?” Cade snarled.

  Gabe shrugged.

  A low, menacing sound tore from Cade’s throat. “I don’t have time for this.” He grabbed his papers and stormed from the room.

  Gabe stared after him. “What’s going on with him?”

  Lucas glanced at the empty doorway. Dread that was all his own curdled in his stomach.

  Cade walked into church ten minutes late, cursing Gabriel and his stupid comments. Even breaking every speed limit he still hadn’t made it on time.

  Slipping into a darkened pew in the second level section, he knelt and said a short prayer before joining the rest of the congregation on their feet.