Marked by Passion (29 page)

"Not
that."
I frowned as I poked at my fries. "Well, okay, that, too. But he had ulterior motives in the beginning."

"And now you don't know whether he wants you or still has ulterior motives." She nodded. "Tricky."

"Exactly."

"Maybe you can just give him what he wants and see what happens." She shrugged. "That way at least you'd know."

"Yeah. Except I don't have it anymore."

She mashed a few fries into the puddle of ketchup. "Does he know?"

"Not yet."

"Tell him. I'd bet a year's tuition he still pursues you."

"Maybe." I wondered how he'd react if I told him I lost the scroll. I winced as I imagined his disappointment in me.

Carrie polished off her food in record time, eating some of my untouched fries, too. I'd lost my appetite somewhere along the way, but I managed to get down a couple bites of the burger. I paid for our dinner, layered up, and followed Carrie outside.

"That was so much fun. Thanks, Gabe." She hugged me.

"I feel like I monopolized the conversation." This time I was more prepared and actually managed what I thought was a decent return hug.

"No way." She smiled. "I loved it. It's so much more interesting than what I've got going on. But I'm more than happy to discuss the rise and fall of the Ming dynasty next time."

"Tempting," I lied with a grin.

"We should do this again soon." She gave me a sidelong look. "Maybe after you give me some pointers in kung fu."

I groaned.

She laughed. "If I mention it enough, I might wear you down. Persistence is one of my most endearing qualities." She waved over her shoulder as she started walking down Market. "Good night."

I headed down Valencia, toward home. Somewhere around Sixteenth Street, that feeling of being followed crept up my spine. I picked up my pace, keeping to the busier streets. Once I thought I caught a shadow of a person in a store window, but when I turned around, there wasn't anyone behind me.

On alert, I turned the corner—

Then suddenly someone slammed me into the building on my right.

"Oof."
My head hit the brick wall, hard enough that I saw stars. I hadn't even caught my breath from the blow when my assailant landed a punch to my stomach.

I curled into myself, moaning. The strike knocked me for a loop, but I was lucid enough to know it wasn't that bad. I counted myself lucky that the guy didn't know enough to hit vital targets. Punching my stomach would only really result in me vomiting all over him—punching my heart could be fatal.

"Bitch. This one's for Chivo." He hit again, and I doubled over, gasping for breath.

In the small corner of my mind that wasn't overwhelmed with pain, I recognized I needed to stop the beating before he caused some real damage—like a broken rib. Figuring
tu ch’i
was my best bet, I pictured the trap door and knew I just needed to unlock it. So I reached into my mental pocket for the key.

It wasn't there.

What the hell? It had to be there. It wasn't like I had that many pockets in my head. But I searched and I couldn't find it, not where I thought I'd put it and not anywhere else.

"Damn." I opened my eyes as his fist plowed into me again.

Never take your eyes from your opponent,
Wu said once in a past lesson.
Especially if they are winning. It's when they think they have you that you'll see an opening for a counterattack.

Lifting my head enough to look from under my lashes, I saw him cock his arm again. I waited until I saw his fist descending and then shifted my body—just enough so his fist brushed by me and smashed straight into the wall.

He howled like a little girl, clutching his hand to his waist.
"You fucking bitch.
You fucking broke my hand!"

Another figure loomed behind him. Shit—I should have noticed he had a friend. I was screwed.

But then the man spoke—in a crisp British accent. "You're going to wish your hand is all that was broken when I'm done with you."

Rhys grabbed the creep by the collar, whirled him around, and hit with a right hook. As his fist connected with skin, I heard the sizzle of burning flesh over my attacker's shrill scream. My stomach lurched. Of course, my queasiness may have been because of all the hits I took, too. I eased down the wall, crouching to regroup, but I still watched the fight.

He followed up with a quick succession of body shots—liver, spleen, groin—all vital areas that'd cause maximum damage.

I decided to feel awe in Rhys's fiery power rather than horror. The creep was down for the count, hunched over, his grunts of pain muffled by his jacket, and it was done for my protection and well being. Just like when he healed me.

Rhys paused, his expression ferocious. He must have decided the guy wasn't far gone enough because, torqu-ing his body, he launched a spinning crescent kick that snapped the guy's jaw.

Absolutely beautiful.

I shifted, and Rhys's battle-sharpened gaze fell on me.

"You need a sword," I said with careful lightness.

"It didn't go with this suit." The anger that still tightened the planes of his face belied his casual tone. He lifted me into his arms.

God, that hurt. I managed to stifle most of my whimper, but a little bit escaped. I could tell by the way his jaw constricted he heard. To distract us both, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to see you. It was purely chance that I saw him grab you."

"And you rushed to help? Why is that?"

He gave me a dark look. "Why do you think?"

What I thought and what I felt were at odds. And, really, I wasn't in any shape to analyze either at this moment.

His car was around the corner, and he had me home in record time. Double parking right in front of my place, he came around to my side. "Your key?"

"In my pocket."

He extracted it and then lifted me out of the seat. He carried me all the way inside and placed me on the futon.

"Aspirin in the bathroom." Wrapping my arms around my middle, I pointed him toward it.

Rhys shook his head and unzipped my jacket. "My way is better."

Remembering the way he'd kissed my aches away last time, I shivered. Yeah, I had to agree.

With tender care he eased me out of my coat, the hoodie I wore underneath, and my tank top. He left my bra on, which surprised me. Maybe he liked the look of black lace.

He scowled, running his hands along my ribs. "I should go back and beat that git all over again for laying a hand on you."

For some reason, my heart warmed and some of the pain—as well as some of my doubts about him—faded. "Can I join you?"

"Always." He lowered his mouth to my navel, flicked it with his tongue, and then began his fire-kissing thing over every inch of my battered abdomen.

I sighed. "Will you teach me how to heal, too?"

"Of course, love," he murmured against my skin.

Relaxing, I let him take my pain away. By the time he finished, I was practically writhing under him. Swollen and wet, I knew just one touch would send me over the edge.

He knew it, too. His lips trailed down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans. He nibbled my belly, his hand idly toying with the button. Then he popped it open.

What about the missing safe key?

Damn it. I'd forgotten about that. I almost wished I hadn't remembered that at
this
moment, but now that the thought had cropped up I couldn't ignore it. I didn't know whether he purposefully tricked me into locking away
tu ch’i
or not. Should I get physical with him despite that?

Sigh. I grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head. "I need to ask you about the Force."

"Yes, young Jedi?" he murmured, turning his head to kiss the inside of my arm.

"Stop that. This is serious."

He echoed my sigh and sat back on his haunches. "What is it?"

"Remember how you told me to put
tu ch’i
in a strong box and lock it?" I waited till he nodded. "Well, I couldn't unlock it again. Did you do something to keep me from it?"

The outrage on his face was answer enough, but he also said, "I would never endanger you, Gabrielle. Nor would I take away something that's a part of you like your
tu ch’i."

Oddly, I believed he meant it. That meant one thing. "Then I think I lost the key to the safe place."

Rhys stared at me blankly for two seconds before his lips curved into an unholy grin.

"This is not funny." I pushed him with my foot.

"Oh, but it is, love." Chuckling, he shook his head and stood up.

"Fine. Be amused. But are you going to help me find my key?"

"It'll cost you."

Of course it would. I frowned. Was I willing to pay the price? Like I had a choice. I couldn't leave myself vulnerable—the next time Rhys might not show up. I nodded once.

Satisfaction colored his eyes. "Be ready tomorrow."

"For what?"

"You're going to work off your debt, and then I'll help you unlock your safe place." He grinned again and headed toward the front door.

"Work off my debt how?" I called after him.

"We're going to spar."

"Spar?" I frowned. "Why—"

"Lock the door behind me, love."

I grabbed my pillow and threw it. Unfortunately, it hit the closed door and slid weakly to the floor. I heard Rhys's sexy chuckle outside, followed by the purr of his car's engine.

Sparring tomorrow. I curled onto my side and stared at the closed door. I wanted to find some kind of ulterior motive for him, but not even I was that creative. It was simply thoughtful.

And confusing. Because only one motive came to mind: concern. And that was just as scary as the alternative.

I
don't know why we had to start so goddamn early," I grumbled as Rhys raced through the city the next morning.

He glanced at me, a smile flirting with his lips. "It's after ten."

"God, that's more indecent than I thought." I frowned at the passing scenery. "I should be painting, you know. I only have three weeks left till my deadline."

"You can't work if you're laid up with injuries from being beaten."

I couldn't argue with that. "Why are we out here? Are we going to work out on the beach?"

"No."

When it became apparent he wasn't going to say more, I rolled my eyes. "Then where are we going? We can't be going to Sea Cliff."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think the homeowners in Sea Cliff would appreciate us sparring on their lawns." A closet in Sea Cliff cost more than most condos anywhere else. "We'd lower the property value."

"Speak for yourself, love."

I looked him over. In a Nike sweatshirt and workout pants, he was still
GQ
chic. Even this early in the morning. I, on the other hand, looked like I'd stumbled off the streets. I sat back and closed my eyes, "We should have stopped for a mocha."

The only reply I got was a low chuckle.

The motion of his smooth driving must have lulled me to sleep, because the next thing I knew we were parked in the circular driveway of a Spanish Mission style home.

Though
palace
may have been a more accurate description. This place made Madame's house look like a shack. It dwarfed the other houses surrounding it.

Rhys brushed my face with the back of his hand. "Awake, love?"

"Yeah." I shook off the goose bumps his touch caused and hopped out of the car. I inhaled the salty air as I listened to the soothing sound of ocean waves breaking against the shore. Nice. Surveying the yard, I wondered who lived here. Someone super rich. And connected, because I was pretty sure the sculpture on the lawn was an authentic Rodin.

Joining me, Rhys took my hand and led me up the steps to the front door.

Before I could ask him who lived here, he unlocked the door and motioned me inside.

My mouth fell open. "This is
your
place?"

He nodded. "I have a workout area out back."

Gawking as he tugged me down the hall, I noted the open space, warm lighting, and rich textures from the brief glimpses of the rooms we passed. My curiosity was piqued—you could tell so much about a person from their personal space. But Rhys was obviously on a mission, so I didn't get a chance to explore. Maybe another time.

Not that I'd have occasion to come back here. It wasn't a smart idea, in any case. Rhys appeared to be my kryptonite. The more distance I had from him, the better.

I glanced down at my hand curling around his, but I couldn't bring myself to let it go.

He strode purposefully through the lower level until we ended up in a bright, modern kitchen.

"Morning, boss." A tall, beefy man looked up from the sink with a smile. The frilly apron he wore was at complete odds with his Marine looks. His gaze widened when he caught sight of me, checking me out top to bottom. He darted a quick glance at Rhys before nodding politely at me. "Miss."

"Brian, this is Ms. Sansouci." Rhys placed a hand on my back. "Gabrielle, Brian is my majordomo."

Brian eyed the way Rhys touched me and his smile warmed. He reached for something next to him and held it out. "I thought your request was strange. This mocha must be for you, Ms. Sansouci."

Taking the proffered cup, I blinked at Brian. "A mocha? How—"

"I called while you were asleep," Rhys explained.

I beamed at my new best friend Brian. "You are a god among men."

He laughed, uninhibited and from the belly.

Rhys wrapped his arm around my waist and tugged me to him. In a mild voice that belied the irritation on his face, he said, "Don't flirt with the help, love."

"I can't help it. He's so manly." Conscious of the avid way Brian watched us, I tried to extricate myself from Rhys's arm.

But he held tight, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "Manly, is he?"

"No sissy British accent." I smiled sweetly, surreptitiously elbowing him.

Brian laughed again. "I think you've met your match, boss."

Rhys looked into my eyes and replied, seriously, "I have." Before I could react, he turned back to his employee. "We'll be working out, Brian. Perhaps you can prepare a snack for us."