Separation Zone Page 6

  No. He supposed it wasn’t.

  He held tight to the steering wheel in hopes that if he gripped it he wouldn’t dare reach over and touch her. Though, he wasn’t so sure of himself at the moment. She had a pull over him unlike anything he’d experienced before and he shared his body with a tiger. So that was saying something.

  His cell buzzed and he debated on answering it. He already knew it was one of his teammates, checking in on him. They liked to do that. Liked to think they could fix him and his issues. They meant well. He knew as much, but he didn’t want to get into everything right now, and he especially didn’t want them learning he’d returned to his hometown, or that he may or may not be with the daughter of a former I-Op.

  “You going to get that?” asked Tori. “I don’t mind. It might be important.”

  “I’m sure it’s not,” he lied. It might be important. Might not.

  His brothers-in-arms would have to wait. Right now he needed to be where he was and do his best to keep his head in the game to figure out what was going on. He sighed. If it turned out Tori really was who she claimed to be—Vinnie’s daughter—he’d have no choice but to bring in the rest of his team. It would mean an outcast survived. And that could mean more had as well.

  His thoughts drifted to another of the Outcasts, as the men had taken to calling them—to one of the men he’d met during testing for the I-Ops. Weston Carol. He’d been a big guy, and a bit on the quiet side, but once you got him going he had a dry humor that tended to help the long, often painful procedures. He, Jon, and Vinnie had hit it off during testing. Lance and Weston had butted heads a good deal, but they’d come to have a mutual respect for one another.

  Weston, like so many men in the program, had issues with the testing. When Jon and the rest of the men in his testing group learned Weston had died on the operating table, they’d mourned him, wondering deep down if they’d be next. If their bodies would do the same and reject what was introduced. What nature hadn’t provided.

  As he spotted the pull off for the Manzo house, his stomach tightened. He’d have to walk away from Tori too, despite his pull to her. Despite the nagging feeling that she was more than just some woman to him. He’d look into her ties to Vinnie on his own, away from her. It was for the best.

  Trouble would follow him if he didn’t.

  Vinnie’s letter warned of as much.

  He pulled into the drive and drove down it, the stones of it crunching beneath the tires of his SUV, sounding as if they’d not had a car on them in a good long while. Maybe they hadn’t.

  Chapter Eight

  He parked, and before he could get around to Tori’s side and do the gentlemanly thing of opening the door for her, she was out and standing, smoothing her skirt as she did.

  “Thank you. I’ve got lunch inside. I’m sure Grandma would like it if you came in. She said she has something for you,” said Tori, glancing past him.

  Jon still wasn’t at ease with the idea the dead were around, let alone speaking to the beautiful woman before him. He nodded, following her as he headed to the side porch entranceway. “Yes, ma’am. That would be nice. Thank you.”

  They entered the kitchen and Jon was instantly struck with how very little had changed, save the addition of a microwave on the countertop. Tori pulled out a chair for him and motioned to it.

  He sat and she set about pulling food from the refrigerator. No words were spoken and the silence thickened between them. She set a plate of food before him and he cleared his throat.

  “Looks delicious.”

  She mumbled something to the effect of, “Should be, the fool of a woman has been making me prepare it enough times.” Tori pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and then added some ice to two glasses. Jon could hardly tear his gaze from the ice, picturing what it would be like to run cubes of it over her tanned skin and then lick away the melting rivulets of water.

  He tugged at the collar of his shirt, positive it was shrinking. His body temperature rose once more. He shook his head and lowered his gaze. If she really was Vinnie’s daughter, then it was wrong to think of her in sexual ways. He owed his friend more than lusting after his daughter.

  You don’t get a choice, dipshit, she’s your mate.

  He grunted, really hating his inner voice. Where was a bottle of Jack to hush it up when he needed it most? If the woman before him knew the truth about him—that he’d hit his version of rock bottom—she’d toss him out on his ear. Worse yet, her ghost of a grandmother would box his ears again. Hell, she’d probably take a switch to his backside.

  He found Tori watching him closely and he met her dark gaze, hoping she didn’t sense all of his issues.

  “You look just like the pictures Grandma kept of you and my father.”

  “Listen, Tori, I get you want me to believe you’re Vinnie’s daughter, but the dates don’t add up,” he said, unsure if he wanted her to really be Vinnie’s daughter or not. If she was and he had a hard-on for her, that wouldn’t sit right with him. If she wasn’t, then she was a liar and that wouldn’t sit well with him, either.

  Without a reply, or rising to his bait, she stood and left the room. It seemed like forever until she returned carrying a small cedar box. The smell of baked goods and spaghetti filled the kitchen, and Jon knew without being told that Mrs. Manzo was back. Whatever was in that box had brought the spirit around again.

  “Here,” said Tori, placing the cedar box before him. “Daddy told me to give this to you when you finally came home.”

  Home.

  The word hung in the air between them. Jon fought the urge to touch her, to feel her silky smooth skin beneath his fingertips once more. But once wouldn’t be enough.

  She backed away from him and leaned against the counter as if she sensed his need for space. It was down to putting space between them or claiming her, and he didn’t think she was ready to be a kept woman.

  Jon opened the lid of the box and gasped when he found countless envelopes addressed to him. All were in Vinnie’s handwriting. Pictures were scattered about within the box as well. Some were old black-and-white ones that Jon remembered posing for with Vinnie. Others were newer and they showed Vinnie holding a little girl. One that had his similar darker features.

  Tori.

  Jon’s stomach twisted into a knot. She wasn’t lying. That meant two things. Jon had abandoned Vinnie, thinking he was dead when he wasn’t, and then, all these years later, he was lusting after the man’s daughter.

  He was the worst friend ever.

  Tori put her back to him and began washing vegetables. He suspected it was her version of trying to give him time to soak in what he had before him. Running his fingers over the pictures, he fought the urge to dig into his pocket and retrieve his cigarettes. It was a habit he knew Mrs. Manzo didn’t permit in her home. Dead or not, he was respecting her. He touched his ear, already knowing she’d whap him a good one if he dared to do it.

  You’re a shitty friend and you’re afraid of a dead lady.

  If his teammates heard about this, they’d never let him live it down. His gaze moved to Tori. She was busy chopping carrots. Telling the team about Vinnie surviving what they had all believed was his death would mean revealing he had a daughter. He trusted his brothers. He didn’t trust those outside his team, though. Paranormal Security and Intelligence, a sister organization to the Immortal Ops, was dealing with traitors in its ranks and Jon wasn’t sure but he suspected it bled over into the I-Ops side of things as well.

  He wouldn’t risk Tori. Wouldn’t chance bringing anything bad down on her. It would be for the best if he cleared out of Nape Field and put as much distance between her and himself as he could. Hell, if his government had lied to him about Vinnie being dead, they could very well lie about anything. And he was sure they’d want nothing more than to get their hands on the by-product of one of their experiments. The daughter of an I-Ops or, as they’d termed Vinnie, an Outcast, as he’d not been perfect after the genetic
changes happened.

  Fucking dicks.

  They weren’t even the biggest worry. A group of sick men seemed hell-bent on unlocking the secrets of DNA splicing and genetic manipulation in a quest for power and super soldiers. They’d spent nearly a year making the I-Ops lives hell and showed no signs of slowing. For every head of one they cut off, another two appeared.

  No. They couldn’t be permitted to find out about Tori, her abilities, or connection to the Ops program. They’d take her, and Jon didn’t even want to think on what they’d do to her.

  His tiger roared deep in him, making him growl and his body nearly shift right then and there. He stood fast, knocking the chair backwards. His outburst startled Tori. Out of the corner of his eye he caught her flinching, the knife in hand as she missed cutting the carrot and cut her other hand instead.

  Her gasp ripped at him, and he was on her in an instant, grabbing her cut hand and lifting it, seeing how badly she was hurt.

  “What? Ouch. Oh,” she said, her mouth forming an “O” as he brought her cut hand to his mouth, doing what felt natural and licking her wound. “Oh, my word.”

  Coppery blood coated his tongue, causing his tiger side to stir more, wanting free. The side of himself that craved blood always sickened him, but now it was different. He wanted more. He wanted to sink his teeth into her tender flesh while he fucked her like the animal he was every bit capable of being. He wanted to fill her so full of him that there would be no doubt she was his mate.

  Claim her.

  He circled his tongue on her hand. His saliva, like that of all his shifter brothers, carried healing agents. It came in handy in their line of work. As the wound healed over under the weight of his tongue, he kept going, his tongue easing around her palm, his gaze locked with hers.

  The smell of her arousal found him and his eyelids fluttered slightly as a soft purr of sorts came from him. Tori moaned and tipped her head back, her breathing quickening with her pulse. Stepping closer to her, Jon invaded her space, wanting to consume her. He dipped his head, prepared and fully planning to kiss her. There was no denying the attraction between them and the moment was ripe.

  As his lips brushed hers, the tiniest of giggles sounded from behind him. He froze. He knew that laugh. He’d heard it many times in the past.

  The long ago past.

  He snapped his eyes open, still in the position to kiss Tori.

  She blinked up at him, and then touched her lips before appearing puzzled. “Jon?”

  The giggle came again, and he put Tori’s now healed hand on his shoulder, assuring she was close before he spoke. “Do you hear laughter?”

  This time it was Tori who froze. “You hear her?”

  “Shit,” whispered Jon as Tori confirmed his suspicions. As his ear was whapped, he glanced over his shoulder to find a tiny Italian, elderly woman standing there, shaking her finger at him.

  “Jonny,” she scolded.

  Jon’s natural instincts took over and he lifted Tori and moved her across the room with a speed humans didn’t possess. He pushed her behind him as he faced a woman he’d not seen in decades. A woman who was long dead.

  “Mrs. Manzo?”

  Tori peeked out from Jon’s side. “You can see her too?”

  “Yes,” he said, staying in front of her, protecting her.

  Mrs. Manzo giggled again. “Oh, perfect. Just as it was intended. You look out for her, Jonny. As Vinnie wanted.” She motioned to the box of letters.

  “What are you doing?” asked Tori, trying to push around him, but failing as he snatched hold of her gently, keeping her in place. “Grandma?”

  Mrs. Manzo beamed. “He’s keeping you safe from ghosts, sweetheart. And I can’t be certain, but I think he’s about to faint.”

  The room began to spin and Jon squared his shoulders. “I’m not about to….”

  With that, he went down hard, a well-timed curse word falling from his lips as he did. When he opened his eyes again it was to find Tori’s face above him, concern in her dark gaze. She gasped as she held his head on her lap. “Are you okay?”

  He rubbed the back of his head, a dull ache setting in. He wasn’t sure why he was on the kitchen floor, either. “What the hell happened?”

  “Jonny, watch your mouth,” said Mrs. Manzo, bringing it all back to him.

  He felt around for his cell phone, and when he found it he pulled it from his pocket and pressed Green’s name. Jon didn’t care how he looked on the floor of the kitchen. All he cared about was answers, so he remained in place, phone in hand, ready to ask the important questions. Green answered on the third ring.

  “Jon?” Green asked. “Is everything all right? You never phone me.”

  Jon glanced up at Tori and then at her long-dead grandmother. “What happened when you shared blood with your mate? Didn’t you tell me that you gained some of her abilities?”

  “Yes,” answered Green slowly and in a low tone. “Jon? What is it?”

  “It happened to the rest of you too, didn’t it?” asked Jon, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it again.

  “Yes. Talk to me. Tell me what is going on.”

  Jon swallowed hard, his gaze going to Tori, who looked as confused as he felt. “I ingested blood from a woman.”

  Green let out a nervous laugh. “Well then, you should be fine, unless of course, she’s your mate. Then that changes everything.”

  “How would I know for sure if she is?” asked Jon, unable to look away from Tori. “And do you believe in ghosts?”

  Mrs. Manzo approached and bent over him. “Well, you see me now, don’t you? Guess that would mean it doesn’t matter what that other one believes.”

  Shit.

  He hung up on Green and let his phone ease out of his hand to the floor. He couldn’t look away from Mrs. Manzo. It felt like ages before he spoke the words he’d wanted to say to her forever and day. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I talked Vinnie into signing up with me, and I’m so sorry that I—”

  She smiled and he wasn’t expecting that. “Everything happens for a reason, Jonny. You should know that by now. And Vinnie wanted to do right by his country. I’m proud of you both, and I have never blamed you for what happened to him. Ever.”

  The guilt Jon had been carrying for so long hit him hard, weighing on him. He sat up slowly, his head spinning, his mind a jumbled mess of confusion.

  Tori touched his cheek. “I’ll get you some water.”

  Mrs. Manzo eyed him. “The boy wants a stiff drink.”

  He did, but he didn’t want to voice as much in front of Tori. “Water is fine. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Manzo shook her head. “Child, go on up to the store and get him some whiskey. That should do it.”

  “Grandma, I don’t want to leave him on the floor,” said Tori shaking her head.

  “Go on now. He’s fine with me. And he’s got some reading to do,” said Mrs. Manzo, pointing to the letters. “Go on. Do as I told you.”

  Jon understood the woman wanted Tori to go, and as much as he craved a drink, he wasn’t going there. Not now. “Tori, she wants to talk to me in private.”

  “Oh,” said Tori, staying close to him. “So you don’t want whiskey instead of water?”

  Chapter Nine

  Did he want whiskey?

  What kind of question was that? Hell yeah, he did. But he didn’t need it in place of water. “Tell you what, I’ll be fine with just water and I can get it myself.” He stood and then pulled Tori to her feet, careful not to hurt her with as tiny as she was compared to him. He caressed her neck with his thumb and winked. She seemed to call to him on every level. The beast within had been clawing at the surface since he’d first spotted her at the memorial. It had wanted to be allowed the freedom to sample her and it had taken all of Jon’s willpower to keep it at bay. Hell, he wanted to dip his head and steal a kiss from her full lips.

  No.

  Jon shook his head and quickly chastised himself for having thoughts of that
nature about Vinnie’s daughter.

  Now that he knew for sure that she was indeed Vinnie’s, and that the likelihood of her being his mate was also high, he knew he had to call back in to his teammates. He had to come clean. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to make a call and check in at work.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Manzo said with a smile.

  Tori looked confused but nodded, saying nothing as he stood and headed out onto the back porch, one he’d spent many hours playing upon as a small boy. He pulled his cell from his pocket and hit Green’s contact number, though it wasn’t Green who answered.

  “Are you okay?” asked Lukian, sounding worried.

  “I called Green.”

  “I know. He’s busy right now. He can’t answer. You got me instead,” said Lukian.

  Jon’s gut tightened. “What is it? What’s wrong? Who is hurt?”

  Lukian laughed softly. “No one. Well, Roi a little, but that’s because his woman just sucker-punched him. Guess she’s not happy with the labor pains.”

  Jon leaned against the old farmhouse. “Missy is in labor?”

  “She is. We’re all here. Roi is now in the hall with us. Wilson and Eadan are sitting on him.”

  He almost asked if Lukian was being serious, and then he remembered who he was talking to. “Why are they sitting on him?”

  “Our women told them to keep him out of the delivery room, or else Missy would probably rip his manhood off.”

  Jon laughed. He could see Missy making the threat. “Listen, I’ll head back to headquarters now. I should be there. This is a big thing for Roi.”

  “We’ve got it covered here,” said Lukian softly. “Tell me what is going on with you. Green gave me a quick rundown of your call as we came busting in with Missy. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  He didn’t but knew he had to.

  Jon took a deep breath. “Remember Vinnie Manzo?”

  Lukian grew quiet. “I do.”

  “You thought he was dead too, right?”

  “Jon,” Lukian said in a hushed whisper. “What’s wrong? Are the nightmares back? I thought those stopped years ago.”