Kiss Across Chaos Page 5

  Aran straightened himself, letting go of the desk. It took effort. “I get it,” he said woodenly. He managed to look Harold in the eye. “It was a mistake. I read someone wrong.”

  Harold nodded. “I figured it was something like that. Best not trust anyone in this business. It’s easier.”

  Aran pushed the tablet closer to Harold. “I know I’m gone and I’ll clear out when I get back to my desk, but do you need help recovering from this? I could write another white paper. Rebuild the thing. Your eyes only. No byline. Or yours, if you want. No one but you has to know I wrote it.”

  Harold tilted his head. “Unpaid?” he asked curiously.

  “This is a bad fuck up. I’d like a chance to straighten it out. Gratis.”

  Harold scratched his head, where the hair used to be. “Well, that’s a new one. Don’t think anyone’s ever come back at me like this.” He clicked his teeth, thinking about it. “Ya know, Reenberg was over the moon with the unique angles. If you could pull that off again, I’d…” He rubbed his head again. “I’d put in a good word for you, wherever you end up next.” He nodded magnanimously.

  It was generous. Aran let out a shaky breath. “I’ll have a chat with Cicero and write up a basic outline for you.”

  Harold laughed and shook his head. “You and your damned dusty books! No one else gets the juice out of dead Roman senators that you do.”

  “They just ask the wrong questions,” Aran said. He held out his hand. “Sorry about this, Harold.”

  Harold actually shook his hand.

  The dateline on the post had been midnight last night, so Aran drove straight to Kyle’s apartment. Kyle would have gone home in the small hours to sleep out the morning after a stunt like this.

  Aran would have jumped to the lane just behind the building, but it was the morning rush hour and everyone was pulling out of their garages and steering out to the main road. And he suspected…no, he knew he wasn’t thinking straight enough to jump accurately.

  He hammered on the door. It was after eight. Screw the neighbors. “Kyle, open the fucking door!”

  He hammered again, while a tiny corner of his brain wondered why Kyle had never got around to giving him a key to the place. And why he’d only now thought to question that.

  When Kyle did open the door, his eyes bleary with sleep, Aran took a single step forward and sucker punched him in the corner of the jaw.

  Kyle staggered back, tottering into the living area, his balance gone. He landed on his ass on the carpet, reached up and shoved his fingers into his mouth. They emerged bloody.

  “You fucking asshole! I trusted you,” Aran raged. Belatedly, he thought to shut the apartment door.

  Kyle wiped his fingers on his pajama pants. “No, you didn’t.” He still sounded tired. “Not really.”

  “How can you say that? After…after everything?” The women, the parties, the sex…the heated, highly memorable sex. “I trusted you enough to leave my laptop around where you could get at it. My mistake, huh?”

  Kyle got himself to his feet and brushed dirt from his ass. “You were around, but you were never available. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

  Aran stared at him, flummoxed. “You destroyed my career because I didn’t…what, exactly?”

  Kyle met his gaze. “You didn’t give a shit. Not deep down. What, you thought I’d never notice?” His tone was bitter.

  “I thought you were enjoying yourself,” Aran shot back. “Why did it have to be more?”

  “Because I’m fucking human, Gallagher!” Kyle ground out, his voice harsh. “Christ, you’re so above everyone, so fucking superior, you can’t see what’s right in front of you. I loved you.” He brushed his hands off. “Guess that was my mistake.”

  Aran found words, at last, and they were pathetic. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well, you never thought I was your equal, so why would you notice? That would require giving a damn.”

  Aran drew in a breath. Another. “They fired me. Hope that makes you feel better.”

  Kyle grimaced. “No.”

  Aran nodded. “Good. Have a nice life, Kyle.”

  He got himself the hell out of there before he did anything even more stupid, and slid and staggered down the steps to the icy pavement, his heart thundering and his head aching.

  When Taylor phoned, Jesse was more than happy to abandon the scene she was writing. “You usually jump over to talk,” Jesse pointed out. “I could put the kettle on. I’ve got good coffee now.” She glanced at the time on her laptop. “Wow, it’s later than I realized. I should stop for dinner, anyway.”

  She had taken all of yesterday afternoon to walk to the nearest supermarket and carry eight bags of groceries back. She’d eat in from now on. Not that it would stop any of the family from reaching her if they wanted to.

  Yesterday morning she had found fresh croissants and coffee waiting beside her laptop and her backpack on the chair, telling her Aran had been there. Oddly, his uninvited visit had not bothered her. She was used to the family popping in and out, and she had implied he should return the pack.

  Only, the smell of good coffee wafting to her while she wrote convinced her to do something to fix the coffee situation that didn’t involve French style patisseries. Especially genuine Parisian patisseries.

  She had sent Aran a carefully inelegant and casual text. Thanks 4 returning my backpack…croissants were divine.

  He hadn’t replied but she didn’t notice until later that night, when she stopped to fix dinner. She was still trying to figure out if him not responding was a good or a bad thing.

  Taylor said into Jesse’s ear, “No, I don’t want to jump there right now. It’s…well, it’s a awkward mother thing, Jesse.”

  Jesse laughed. “You’re not awkward.”

  “I feel awkward,” Taylor admitted. “Only, Aran hasn’t returned my texts for two days now, and…well…”

  Jesse squeezed the phone. “Doesn’t Aran always take a while to get back to you? He takes weeks to respond to me.” When she bothered sending him messages at all, which she hadn’t done for a very long time.

  “That’s where the awkwardness comes in,” Taylor said, with a deep sigh. “Veris said he and Brody sort of argued about Aran in front of you at Thanksgiving, and you must have noticed that Aran isn’t…well, around, these days.”

  “Yeah, I’d noticed,” Jesse said, keeping her tone light.

  “And normally, he takes his time getting back to me but this time it just…feels different. And I can’t figure out if I’m being a paranoid mother or if something is…I don’t know. A tremor on the timescape? But I’m worried, Jesse.”

  Jesse bit her lip. “But you won’t come here to check on him,” she finished.

  “Because I’m his mother,” Taylor said in a rush. “He’s a grown man. I won’t crowd him like that.”

  Jesse rubbed her brow. “You’re asking me to do it, instead,” she guessed.

  “Asking, yes. Not insisting. I know it’s an imposition, Jesse. But Aran talks to you and Marit and Alannah more frequently than he does to us, so maybe it won’t feel so invasive if you do it. You’re already in Washington.”

  Jesse held her tongue. Taylor really had no idea how little Aran talked to any of them. Instead, she said, “I can try phoning him.”

  “Is that what you normally do?” Taylor asked hesitantly.

  Jesse sighed. “I would normally send a text.” She hesitated. “He hasn’t answered mine from two days ago, but I didn’t think anything of it. He usually doesn’t answer.”

  She could almost feel Taylor’s worry spike.

  “I’ll go around and see him,” Jesse said firmly. She hesitated again. “But you’ll have to send me the address.”

  “Thank you, Jesse,” Taylor said, her voice wobbling. Jesse wondered if she was crying. Could vampires cry? She wasn’t sure about that. It was a question to ask one of the vampires, when they were very mellow, and in the mood to talk. “I’ll hang up and send th
e address right now.”

  Jesse put her phone down and flipped her laptop over to the maps. When the address popped up on her phone screen, she plugged it into the maps app, then consulted the D.C. bus schedules. Her heart sank. It would take her three hours and four buses to get across the river and into Georgetown, at this time of night. There were twenty-minute waits between each bus…and it was already below thirty out there.

  She picked up her phone. A phone call was going to have to do. She pulled up the text she’d sent Aran two days ago and tapped the phone number to make it dial.

  Even before the call connected, a feminine-sounding computer informed her the phone was not in service.

  Jesse put the phone down, her heart thudding hard. If Taylor had tried to call, she would have got the same message and would have immediately jumped to D.C., but she was trying to respect Aran’s boundaries. At least she would be spared this additional worry.

  Jesse picked up the phone again and texted Alannah.

  Need to speak to you. *Might* be emergency with Aran.

  Silence. No dancing three dots to tell her Alannah was swiping out a response. Nothing.

  Then a rustle and soft exclamation behind her.

  Jesse turned on the chair. Alannah stood between the two white sofas, wearing big sunglasses, a double-breasted jacket that crossed underneath her breasts, and it looked as though she was wearing nothing under the jacket. A very short skirt, over-the-knee suede boots that match the jacket in color, and sheer dark tights.

  The jacket was pushed up close to her elbows.

  “Damn, it’s cold here,” Alannah said in her rough voice. She tugged down her sleeves and lifted the sunglasses. “I can’t get him on the phone,” she told Jesse. “It just cuts out.”

  “Me, neither,” Jesse said, getting up. “You jumped here blind?” The twins seemed fearless when it came to jumping around the timescape.

  Alannah shook her head. “There was a bookmark. I hoped there would be, otherwise, I’d have to call in Marit and she just gets snotty about things like that.” Alannah rolled her eyes. “Big sisters,” she added disparagingly.

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have one.”

  “Sure you do,” Alannah said. “She’s called Marit.” She grinned.

  “I’m older than her,” Jesse pointed out, trying to hide the ridiculously pleased grin that wanted to form.

  “No one is older than Marit,” Alannah assured her. “Not even Far, and he’s fifteen centuries old.”

  It was an oddly true statement. Jesse glanced at Alannah’s inadequate clothing. “Did I pull you out of something?”

  “Party in Malibu.” Alannah shrugged. “Punch was sour, anyway. So, let’s do this.” She held out her arms.

  “Oh, good, you know his apartment.” Jesse stepped up against her.

  “Nope. Never been there. But I can see the map there. If we are going to do this, then we did do this, if you look back from the future, so there will be a bookmark. Ready?”

  Jesse reflected that five years ago, that would have been a completely nonsensical statement. Today, she understood it perfectly.

  Time swiped at them.

  Chapter Five

  Cold was the first thing that registered. They’d both left the house without coats, which was stupid. Jesse pulled her cardigan in around her, already shivering, and looked around the narrow tree-lined street. It was dark and threatening to snow—the smell was unmistakable. There was no one in the street. Still, Alannah had taken a big risk jumping straight here, onto the middle of the sidewalk.

  There were few streetlights, strung far apart, which didn’t help spotting street numbers.

  “There’s twenty-one,” Alannah said and strode over to the stoop stairs, climbed them with her very long legs and pressed the doorbell.

  Jesse moved up onto the stoop behind her as Alannah rang the bell again. If she leaned over the railing she could peer in the front window. Under the circumstances, Aran’s privacy was the lesser priority. She leaned and rested her hand against the glass so she could peer in without the streetlights bouncing off the glass and dazzling her.

  “It’s dark in there,” she said. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

  “Hang on.” Alannah pulled her phone out of her pocket, thumbed the screen and switched on the flashlight app and played the light through the window. She was taller than Jesse and could hold it over her head.

  Jesse bent again and peered through the glass at the neat living room the light displayed. “This can’t be Aran’s place.” She pulled back and looked at the number on the door. “Do we even have the right street?”

  “Why, what’s wrong with it?” Alannah shoved the phone at Jesse. “Let me see.”

  Jesse raised up on her toes and held the phone up over Alannah’s back as she peered through the window.

  Then Alannah straightened and took back the phone and switched it off. She shook her head. “It’s too neat.”

  Jesse shuddered. The cold was eating into her face and bones.

  From further inside the apartment, a light abruptly blazed out. Both of them lurched backward with breathless shrieks of surprise. Then they glanced at each other and grinned weakly. Jesse felt foolish.

  Alannah pressed her finger against the bell once more, then knocked heavily.

  Nothing.

  “Fuck this,” Alannah said. She held out her arm. “Here.”

  Jesse stepped into her hold and caught her breath as they jumped again.

  The warmth that enveloped them was heavenly. They stood inside the apartment they had just been peering into, with the light from the next room pooling on the old floorboards and a pristine Berber area rug spotted with blues and greys.

  The light switched off.

  “Aran, you son of a bitch, stop playing with us!” Alannah shouted.

  The silence that answered her thudded in Jesse’s ears.

  Alannah strode through the small arch into the room where the light had been and fumbled at the wall beside the door. The light came back on again.

  “Jesse, check this out!” she called.

  Jesse moved into the other room, feeling like the intruder she was. Alannah didn’t seem to have the same qualms.

  The other room was a kitchen/dining area. Tiny, too. Even an apartment this small, in this neighborhood, would cost a fortune. It was as pristine and simple as the front room. “No dirty dishes,” Jesse said. “Not even a scotch glass.”

  “Look.” Alannah pointed at the counter which separated the kitchenette from the dining area. Against the wall was a voice-controlled home management device, the LED at the top glowing blue.

  “It’s doing something,” Jesse said, stepping closer to it.

  The light in the front room came on, making both of them spin and gasp.

  Nothing else happened. No footsteps sounded overhead. No voice demanding to know what they were doing in here.

  Alannah let out a shaking breath. “Son of a bitch…” she breathed. “I know what he’s doing. Look in the fridge, Jesse. I’ll be right back.” She turned and ran into the front room. Jesse heard her boots thudding as she ran upstairs.

  Jesse had no idea what Alannah thought she might have figured out, but she went over to the little under-counter fridge and opened it.

  Empty.

  Jesse stared at the pristine white interior, frowning hard.

  Thoughtfully, she closed the door as Alannah’s boots careened back down the stairs. Alannah strode into the room. “Closet is completely bare. He’s using this place as an arrival chamber and a mail drop.”

  Jesse nodded. “The fridge has nothing in it. He’s using the thing on the counter to control the lights. Turn them on and off at certain times. Make the neighbors think he lives here.”

  “He stole my freaking idea, the asshole,” Alannah muttered.

  “You do this?” Jesse was astonished.

  Alannah turned on one heel, taking in the neat kitchen. “You know how expensive apartment
s are in L.A.? Two thousand a month for a footlocker. I have a hundred square foot jumping pad in L.A. and a house in Colorado. I own the house free and clear.”

  Jesse realized she was staring. Really, these two had no respect for time at all. They used it for their own ends. What would Veris think, if he knew? But she would never tell him. She didn’t want to find out what Veris did to messengers bearing that sort of news.

  Besides, she was an honorary sister, apparently. Siblings didn’t rat out each other. At least, that was her understanding of what siblings did. “Okay, so he uses this place as a front door for somewhere else. Where, then?”

  Alannah grimaced. “I don’t know.”

  “You can’t see him on the timescape?”

  “There’s bookmarks all over the place,” Alannah said. “Especially lately.” She sighed and pulled out her phone and thumbed a fast text message. “We’re going to have to pull in the big gun, after all.”

  She sent the message, put her phone away, then roamed the kitchen, opening and closing doors and inspecting the interiors.

  Jesse stayed with her back to the sink. Even if this was a staged living space, it still felt wrong to move around like she lived here, when Aran wasn’t here.

  Marit arrived wearing sunglasses and a big brimmed hat, a brightly colored green silk sarong wrapped under her arms, which went well with her light tan. Water pooled around her bare feet. The scent of salt wafted through the room, making Jesse think of rolling waves and white sand.

  “What the hell has he done now?” Marit took off her hat and glasses and shook out her hair.

  “Were you swimming?” Jesse asked curiously.

  “I was walking across a reef, digging up mullet fish for dinner tonight,” Marit replied. “And hello,” she added shortly. “Give me the guts of it.”

  “Your mom phoned me,” Jesse said. “Aran hasn’t replied to her texts for two days, which isn’t out of the ordinary. Except this time, Taylor’s Spidey-sense is prickling. I got Alannah to jump me here, to check on him.”

  “It’s an arrival chamber,” Alannah told Marit, as Marit looked around the room. “I don’t know where he actually lives and there’s bookmarks all over the timescape. We could spend a week tracking them all down and some of them are linear, too.”