A Family Affair
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters. I'm just borrowing them! Enjoy!
Chapter 25.
Sara Pezzini took a swig from her bottle of water and glanced at the dashboard clock for perhaps the 50th time since Ian Nottingham had left her sitting in his SUV. She groaned as she saw that barely 20 minutes had elapsed. It felt more like two hours.
Squirming around in her seat restlessly, Sara decided to turn on the car radio. She was curious to see what kind of music Nottingham listened to. Then she remembered that he'd said the car was brand new, meaning it was highly unlikely that he'd had the chance to preset his favorite radio stations, if in fact he had any. It felt weird to think of her stalker as someone who enjoyed something as normal as listening to music. Try as she might, Sara just could not picture Nottingham bobbing his head to a slamming beat as he drove along. She decided that, given his upbringing, he probably went for classical music or perhaps jazz. For lack of anything better to do, she turned on the radio anyway. Not surprisingly, it was tuned to an all news format AM station. Just as she was about to switch to an FM station, Sara heard the announcer say the weather forecast was coming up next. Five minutes later, she sighed heavily as the meteorologist confirmed her worst fears: New York City was bracing for as much as 30 inches of snow, beginning late Thursday night or early Friday morning. The freakishly early winter storm had already been dubbed the "Thanksgiving Blizzard," despite the fact that the holiday was still a week away. Forlornly, Sara thought of her beloved Buell motorcycle and the deprivation of the long winter months stretching ahead of her. She switched to the FM band and pressed the scan button, punching it again when she heard one of her favorite songs, Led Zeppelin's "Thank You."
~ If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me. ~
Once again, Sara's thoughts turned to Ian Nottingham, and she wondered if he had located Alonzo Brown yet. Her mind shied away from thinking about the method by which he was obtaining the information they wanted from the hapless thug. The memory of the predatory grin the black- clad assassin had flashed her as he had assured her that the young man would never see or hear him coming caused another chill to run down her spine. For some strange reason, these stark reminders of how very lethal Nottingham could be continually took Sara by surprise.
~ Little drops of rain, whisper of the pain, tears of loves lost in the days gone by. Our love is strong, with you there is no wrong, together we shall go until we die. ~
Sara had read the pitifully brief file a contact of Jake McCartey's at the FBI had helpfully provided on Kenneth Irons' bodyguard and henchman, at the end of which had been the dire designation "extremely dangerous." And earlier today at Talismaniac, Gabriel had commented that the former Black Dragon was not like normal human beings, and Nottingham had agreed with him. Sara had witnessed some of his supernatural attributes firsthand, like that effortless leap from the third-story window of Angel Medina's former drug den and the blinding speed with which he had taken down Alonzo Brown. And then there was his super-acute hearing and ability to see in near darkness. Still, she could not shake the conviction that Nottingham posed no danger to her.
~ And so today, my world it smiles. Your hand in mine, we walk the miles. Thanks to you, it will be done, for you to me are the only one. ~
However, what did absolutely terrify her was her growing suspicion that Nottingham was in love with her. For a stone-cold killer, the man possessed extraordinarily expressive eyes -- when he actually allowed you to glimpse them, that was. Earlier that evening, as they stood outside the 11th Precinct and he had thanked her for salving his pride, Sara had done everything in her power to avoid looking into those beautiful eyes, for fear of what she would see there.
'Whoa, Nelly! Did you just call your stalker's eyes beautiful, Pezzini?' she thought, shifting uneasily in her seat. 'Yeah, you sure did. I guess familiarity breeds insanity. The sooner we catch the bad guys and can go our separate ways, the better!' she told herself. Except for the fact that Nottingham would still be shadowing her every move. But only if the poison his control freak boss had injected him with didn't end up killing him, she thought soberly. On the radio, Robert Plant half sang, half whispered the last two lines of the song.
~ If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. Mountains crumble to the sea, there would still be you and me. ~
Sara glanced at the dashboard clock again, and saw that another quarter of an hour had passed while she'd been sitting there lost in thought. Turning off the radio, she took out her cell phone and pressed the speed dial number that Nottingham had labeled simply "Ian."
"Sara."
Her stomach did a weird flip-flop as he pronounced her name in that unique way he had. "Uh, yeah, it's me," she said inanely, suddenly regretting her impatient and impulsive decision to call him. "So, did you find Alonzo?"
"I am speaking to him now."
"Well, your hour is almost up." 'Way to go, stating the obvious, Pez,' she thought with disgust.
"I know it has almost been an hour," he replied, with the merest hint of what might have been irritation in his voice.
"Nottingham, please tell me you haven't broken any more of Alonzo's bones. I'm serious. You may not have a conscience, but I do."
"No, I have not broken any more of his bones. Really, we are just talking."
"Well, okay then. You have a little more than 15 minutes left. If you aren't back by then, I'm gonna come up there."
"I will return shortly, my Lady," he said.
Sara realized that he was about to hang up. "NOTTINGHAM!" she screeched.
He instantly came back on the line. "Are you all right, Sara? I heard you yell," he asked, anxiety evident in his voice.
"Don't you dare hang up again without saying goodbye. You know how I hate that," she growled.
There was a pregnant pause. "My apologies. Good. Bye. Sara." He hung up.
Sara stared at the phone in her hand as if it were a live grenade. "You've really gone off the deep end now, Pezzini," she muttered aloud. "Get help before it's too late. Who am I kidding? It's way past too late. You're a nutcase. Bitching at your stalker 'cause he didn't say goodbye before hanging up. Hello? HE'S YOUR STALKER!!! And now you're talking to yourself. Yep, you're certifiable. Better make that reservation for a room with padded walls."
She glared accusingly at the admittedly striking but deceptively innocuous-looking bracelet on her wrist. "This is all your fault! I just know it," she said through her teeth. "I must be acting this way because he's my Protector, whatever the hell that means."
Suddenly, she decided she couldn't wait any longer to find out exactly what it entailed. Fifteen minutes would have to suffice. She dialed Gabriel Bowman's number.
"Talismaniac. Nothing's too out there to find here."
"Gabriel, it's me," Sara said, smiling at the manner in which the young businessman had answered the phone despite the late hour.
"Oh, hey, Chief! What's up? How's Nottingham?"
"Funny you should ask that -- well, actually, come to think of it, it's not funny at all -- but he's the reason I'm calling," Sara said, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly.
"Please do not tell me he's needs a place to crash for the night."
"No, no, it's nothing like that. I don't have a lot of time before he gets back -- yeah, we're still hanging out. It's a long story; remind me to tell you it sometime -- but I really, really need to know exactly what it means that he's my Protector," Sara told him. "Right now."
"Oh, hey, Chief, that's not a subject that can be summed up in just a few minutes."
"Give it your best shot, Gabriel. You've got roughly ten."
"Hmmm. Well, let's see. Witchblade legend has it that down through the ages, every Bladewielder has had a Protector, who is always male and always within a year or two of the Wielder's age. This Protector was born to do just what his title indicates: protect the Wielder from her enemies, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. Ian Nottingham is your Protector."
"Well, see? That wasn't so bad," Sara glanced out the tinted windows to see if she could spot Nottingham approaching, but saw only the dark, deserted street.
"Oh, there's more to it than that, Chief. Much more."
"Well, go on."
"Most of this is just hearsay and rumor, because, much as I hate to tell you this, most Protectors don't live long enough to write their memoirs. In fact, I have yet to find any evidence that any Protector has ever outlived his Wielder."
"Gee, that's encouraging."
"Sorry, but as you might imagine, it's not the easiest of jobs. In ancient times, the mortality rate was much higher. Factor in the hordes of enemies constantly trying to kill the Wielder in order to get their hands on the Witchblade, and, well, you get the picture. Anyway, legend has it that the Protector shares a psychic bond with both the Witchblade and its Wielder. Apparently, he's born with the bond to the Blade, but his connection to the Wielder lies dormant until the Witchblade chooses her."
"So, the Witchblade recognizes this Protector whenever he's around," Sara said slowly, thinking of the warm swirl the bracelet imparted to her wrist whenever Nottingham was nearby. And then suddenly she realized that she wasn't just recalling it; she was feeling it. Her eyes darted around the dark street, but didn't see any sign of Kenneth Irons' bodyguard. However, she knew he was close and getting closer.
"Yeah, but there's something else I should tell you about this bond, Sara," Gabriel said, "something I don't think you're gonna like very much."
"We don't have much time left, Gabriel, so just spit it out."
"Well, for one thing, it allegedly allows the Protector to know where the Wielder is at all times."
"I could have told you that," Sara said. "But why do I get the feeling that's not the thing I won't like?"
"Legend also has it that the bond gives the Wielder's Protector a telepathic and/or empathic link to her if she is a True Wielder."
The swirly warmth on her wrist intensified, but Sara still saw no sign of Nottingham. "Are you saying he gets to read my mind but I don't get to read his? That's, like, really, really disturbing, Gabriel, not to mention freakin' unfair."
"Yeah, I knew you'd feel that way. But I also came across some history that suggested the telepathic link could, in fact, be mutual in, um, certain circumstances."
"Like what?" Sara asked cautiously, unconsciously bracing herself.
"Like if the Wielder took her Protector as her mate," Gabriel blurted out.
"WHAT?" Sara shrieked, and then she flinched as she realized that Ian Nottingham was standing next to the driver-side door of the car, patiently waiting for her to unlock it. Of course, she hadn't seen him approach the vehicle even though she'd been keeping an eye out for him. "Uh, I gotta go, Gabriel," she muttered, hanging up.
Pocketing her phone, she leaned over and opened the car door, immediately averting her furiously blushing face.
Nottingham gracefully folded his tall frame into the car. "You did not say goodbye, Sara," he observed, eyeing her.
"Don't you know it's not polite to eavesdrop on other people's conversations!" she snarled at him, still unable to look him in the face.
Ian blinked, taken aback by her hostility. "I did not eavesdrop on your conversation with Mr. Bowman, Sara. I was only in time to overhear the rather abrupt end of it."
"Well, still." Scowling, she took the thermometer out of her coat pocket.
"Have I done something to upset you, my Lady?" he asked hesitantly. "I returned within the allotted hour, did I not?"
"Yeah, yeah. Open up." Sara felt a pang of guilt as she saw that the kicked-puppy had shown up. Sighing, she slid the device under his tongue. "I'm sorry, Nottingham. It's just that Gabriel told me something that kinda freaked me out right before you came back. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Thass awight, mah Wady," he mumbled around the thermometer, bringing a small smile to her tired face.
Sara noticed that his febrile eyes were hollow with exhaustion and that his lips had become chapped from the cold. Absently, she removed some of the clear lip gloss from her own lips and smoothed it onto his.
At her touch, Nottingham stiffened, eyes widening, and a strangled groan came from deep within his chest.
Sara froze, her fingertip still touching Ian's lower lip, only then realizing what she had done without thinking. On her wrist, the Witchblade began to pulse wildly, its deep fiery glow mirroring the blushes that abruptly reddened both of their faces. Fast double beeps shattered the shocked silence that had blanketed the SUV's interior.
Sara removed her finger from Nottingham's lip and then took the thermometer from his mouth, reaching up to turn on the overhead light with a visibly shaking hand so that she could read the miniscule LED screen.
"102.8," Sara said huskily. She cleared her throat. "At the rate your fever's rising, it's gonna top 106 by tomorrow night, Nottingham. You need to get that antidote A.S.A.P."
"But it has not reached 103 yet," Ian said hoarsely, barely able to form coherent sentences. "You said I did not have to return to the estate unless it rose higher than 103. So, we can still go check out the abandoned ice factory that Alonzo Brown says is Angel's new place of business. It is not far from here. Unfortunately, Mr. Brown claimed not to know the exact whereabouts of Angel or his brother. However, I am hopeful of discovering that they are both at the new location."
Sara stared at him in consternation for several long moments. "Okay, you can go check it out. But I'm gonna go nuts if I have to sit in this car again while you case the joint. Take me home first. There's nothing we can do even if we discover that Angel really has set up shop there. Not until he makes the pickup of that drug shipment. Drop me off at my place, then come back down here and check it out. Call me and let me know what, if anything, you find. Then go home and get that antidote. Okay?"
"As you wish, my Lady," Ian said quietly, unhappy that she was so obviously eager to part company with him.
They made the trip to Tribeca in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Nottingham double-parked the SUV in front of Sara's building and escorted her to her door, performing another security sweep in near-total darkness before allowing her inside the loft.
"I'll be waiting for your call, Nottingham. Please be careful. I mean, I know you're a shadow and all, but still," Sara said, walking him to the door. "Angel and Joaquin are bad news."
"I will be careful, my Lady." He hesitated before turning to leave, screwing up his courage. "Sara, may I ask you a question?"
Sara tensed, but nodded. "Sure. Doesn't mean I'll answer, but go ahead, knock yourself out."
Ian kept his eyes fixed on the floor, very afraid of what he would see in her beautiful eyes if he were to look up. "Did the upsetting information that Mr. Bowman shared with you have to do with me?"
"Yes, it did," she acknowledged.
Ian bowed his bare head, the loose tendrils of hair falling forward to hide his expression, but not before she saw a stark look of something very close to despair on his haggard face. "Thank you for being honest, my Lady," he said quietly and turned to go.
"Your lips," Sara blurted out, suddenly loathe to have him leave.
He turned back, lifting shadowed hazel eyes to meet hers briefly. "What about them?"
"They were chapped," she said softly. "I couldn't have my Protector running around with chapped lips, could I?"
One of those tiny almost-smiles turned up the corners of those lips. "No, I suppose not." He gave her one of his courtly bows. "I will call you in a little while, my Lady." And turning, he left.
Sara went to the window overlooking the street and watched as he got into his SUV. It wasn't until he had driven off that she realized that she had forgotten to grab her tampons from the back seat.
More to come. I look forward to, read, and deeply appreciate all of my feedback. Keep it coming! And thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters. I'm just borrowing them! Enjoy!
Chapter 25.
Sara Pezzini took a swig from her bottle of water and glanced at the dashboard clock for perhaps the 50th time since Ian Nottingham had left her sitting in his SUV. She groaned as she saw that barely 20 minutes had elapsed. It felt more like two hours.
Squirming around in her seat restlessly, Sara decided to turn on the car radio. She was curious to see what kind of music Nottingham listened to. Then she remembered that he'd said the car was brand new, meaning it was highly unlikely that he'd had the chance to preset his favorite radio stations, if in fact he had any. It felt weird to think of her stalker as someone who enjoyed something as normal as listening to music. Try as she might, Sara just could not picture Nottingham bobbing his head to a slamming beat as he drove along. She decided that, given his upbringing, he probably went for classical music or perhaps jazz. For lack of anything better to do, she turned on the radio anyway. Not surprisingly, it was tuned to an all news format AM station. Just as she was about to switch to an FM station, Sara heard the announcer say the weather forecast was coming up next. Five minutes later, she sighed heavily as the meteorologist confirmed her worst fears: New York City was bracing for as much as 30 inches of snow, beginning late Thursday night or early Friday morning. The freakishly early winter storm had already been dubbed the "Thanksgiving Blizzard," despite the fact that the holiday was still a week away. Forlornly, Sara thought of her beloved Buell motorcycle and the deprivation of the long winter months stretching ahead of her. She switched to the FM band and pressed the scan button, punching it again when she heard one of her favorite songs, Led Zeppelin's "Thank You."
~ If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me. ~
Once again, Sara's thoughts turned to Ian Nottingham, and she wondered if he had located Alonzo Brown yet. Her mind shied away from thinking about the method by which he was obtaining the information they wanted from the hapless thug. The memory of the predatory grin the black- clad assassin had flashed her as he had assured her that the young man would never see or hear him coming caused another chill to run down her spine. For some strange reason, these stark reminders of how very lethal Nottingham could be continually took Sara by surprise.
~ Little drops of rain, whisper of the pain, tears of loves lost in the days gone by. Our love is strong, with you there is no wrong, together we shall go until we die. ~
Sara had read the pitifully brief file a contact of Jake McCartey's at the FBI had helpfully provided on Kenneth Irons' bodyguard and henchman, at the end of which had been the dire designation "extremely dangerous." And earlier today at Talismaniac, Gabriel had commented that the former Black Dragon was not like normal human beings, and Nottingham had agreed with him. Sara had witnessed some of his supernatural attributes firsthand, like that effortless leap from the third-story window of Angel Medina's former drug den and the blinding speed with which he had taken down Alonzo Brown. And then there was his super-acute hearing and ability to see in near darkness. Still, she could not shake the conviction that Nottingham posed no danger to her.
~ And so today, my world it smiles. Your hand in mine, we walk the miles. Thanks to you, it will be done, for you to me are the only one. ~
However, what did absolutely terrify her was her growing suspicion that Nottingham was in love with her. For a stone-cold killer, the man possessed extraordinarily expressive eyes -- when he actually allowed you to glimpse them, that was. Earlier that evening, as they stood outside the 11th Precinct and he had thanked her for salving his pride, Sara had done everything in her power to avoid looking into those beautiful eyes, for fear of what she would see there.
'Whoa, Nelly! Did you just call your stalker's eyes beautiful, Pezzini?' she thought, shifting uneasily in her seat. 'Yeah, you sure did. I guess familiarity breeds insanity. The sooner we catch the bad guys and can go our separate ways, the better!' she told herself. Except for the fact that Nottingham would still be shadowing her every move. But only if the poison his control freak boss had injected him with didn't end up killing him, she thought soberly. On the radio, Robert Plant half sang, half whispered the last two lines of the song.
~ If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. Mountains crumble to the sea, there would still be you and me. ~
Sara glanced at the dashboard clock again, and saw that another quarter of an hour had passed while she'd been sitting there lost in thought. Turning off the radio, she took out her cell phone and pressed the speed dial number that Nottingham had labeled simply "Ian."
"Sara."
Her stomach did a weird flip-flop as he pronounced her name in that unique way he had. "Uh, yeah, it's me," she said inanely, suddenly regretting her impatient and impulsive decision to call him. "So, did you find Alonzo?"
"I am speaking to him now."
"Well, your hour is almost up." 'Way to go, stating the obvious, Pez,' she thought with disgust.
"I know it has almost been an hour," he replied, with the merest hint of what might have been irritation in his voice.
"Nottingham, please tell me you haven't broken any more of Alonzo's bones. I'm serious. You may not have a conscience, but I do."
"No, I have not broken any more of his bones. Really, we are just talking."
"Well, okay then. You have a little more than 15 minutes left. If you aren't back by then, I'm gonna come up there."
"I will return shortly, my Lady," he said.
Sara realized that he was about to hang up. "NOTTINGHAM!" she screeched.
He instantly came back on the line. "Are you all right, Sara? I heard you yell," he asked, anxiety evident in his voice.
"Don't you dare hang up again without saying goodbye. You know how I hate that," she growled.
There was a pregnant pause. "My apologies. Good. Bye. Sara." He hung up.
Sara stared at the phone in her hand as if it were a live grenade. "You've really gone off the deep end now, Pezzini," she muttered aloud. "Get help before it's too late. Who am I kidding? It's way past too late. You're a nutcase. Bitching at your stalker 'cause he didn't say goodbye before hanging up. Hello? HE'S YOUR STALKER!!! And now you're talking to yourself. Yep, you're certifiable. Better make that reservation for a room with padded walls."
She glared accusingly at the admittedly striking but deceptively innocuous-looking bracelet on her wrist. "This is all your fault! I just know it," she said through her teeth. "I must be acting this way because he's my Protector, whatever the hell that means."
Suddenly, she decided she couldn't wait any longer to find out exactly what it entailed. Fifteen minutes would have to suffice. She dialed Gabriel Bowman's number.
"Talismaniac. Nothing's too out there to find here."
"Gabriel, it's me," Sara said, smiling at the manner in which the young businessman had answered the phone despite the late hour.
"Oh, hey, Chief! What's up? How's Nottingham?"
"Funny you should ask that -- well, actually, come to think of it, it's not funny at all -- but he's the reason I'm calling," Sara said, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly.
"Please do not tell me he's needs a place to crash for the night."
"No, no, it's nothing like that. I don't have a lot of time before he gets back -- yeah, we're still hanging out. It's a long story; remind me to tell you it sometime -- but I really, really need to know exactly what it means that he's my Protector," Sara told him. "Right now."
"Oh, hey, Chief, that's not a subject that can be summed up in just a few minutes."
"Give it your best shot, Gabriel. You've got roughly ten."
"Hmmm. Well, let's see. Witchblade legend has it that down through the ages, every Bladewielder has had a Protector, who is always male and always within a year or two of the Wielder's age. This Protector was born to do just what his title indicates: protect the Wielder from her enemies, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. Ian Nottingham is your Protector."
"Well, see? That wasn't so bad," Sara glanced out the tinted windows to see if she could spot Nottingham approaching, but saw only the dark, deserted street.
"Oh, there's more to it than that, Chief. Much more."
"Well, go on."
"Most of this is just hearsay and rumor, because, much as I hate to tell you this, most Protectors don't live long enough to write their memoirs. In fact, I have yet to find any evidence that any Protector has ever outlived his Wielder."
"Gee, that's encouraging."
"Sorry, but as you might imagine, it's not the easiest of jobs. In ancient times, the mortality rate was much higher. Factor in the hordes of enemies constantly trying to kill the Wielder in order to get their hands on the Witchblade, and, well, you get the picture. Anyway, legend has it that the Protector shares a psychic bond with both the Witchblade and its Wielder. Apparently, he's born with the bond to the Blade, but his connection to the Wielder lies dormant until the Witchblade chooses her."
"So, the Witchblade recognizes this Protector whenever he's around," Sara said slowly, thinking of the warm swirl the bracelet imparted to her wrist whenever Nottingham was nearby. And then suddenly she realized that she wasn't just recalling it; she was feeling it. Her eyes darted around the dark street, but didn't see any sign of Kenneth Irons' bodyguard. However, she knew he was close and getting closer.
"Yeah, but there's something else I should tell you about this bond, Sara," Gabriel said, "something I don't think you're gonna like very much."
"We don't have much time left, Gabriel, so just spit it out."
"Well, for one thing, it allegedly allows the Protector to know where the Wielder is at all times."
"I could have told you that," Sara said. "But why do I get the feeling that's not the thing I won't like?"
"Legend also has it that the bond gives the Wielder's Protector a telepathic and/or empathic link to her if she is a True Wielder."
The swirly warmth on her wrist intensified, but Sara still saw no sign of Nottingham. "Are you saying he gets to read my mind but I don't get to read his? That's, like, really, really disturbing, Gabriel, not to mention freakin' unfair."
"Yeah, I knew you'd feel that way. But I also came across some history that suggested the telepathic link could, in fact, be mutual in, um, certain circumstances."
"Like what?" Sara asked cautiously, unconsciously bracing herself.
"Like if the Wielder took her Protector as her mate," Gabriel blurted out.
"WHAT?" Sara shrieked, and then she flinched as she realized that Ian Nottingham was standing next to the driver-side door of the car, patiently waiting for her to unlock it. Of course, she hadn't seen him approach the vehicle even though she'd been keeping an eye out for him. "Uh, I gotta go, Gabriel," she muttered, hanging up.
Pocketing her phone, she leaned over and opened the car door, immediately averting her furiously blushing face.
Nottingham gracefully folded his tall frame into the car. "You did not say goodbye, Sara," he observed, eyeing her.
"Don't you know it's not polite to eavesdrop on other people's conversations!" she snarled at him, still unable to look him in the face.
Ian blinked, taken aback by her hostility. "I did not eavesdrop on your conversation with Mr. Bowman, Sara. I was only in time to overhear the rather abrupt end of it."
"Well, still." Scowling, she took the thermometer out of her coat pocket.
"Have I done something to upset you, my Lady?" he asked hesitantly. "I returned within the allotted hour, did I not?"
"Yeah, yeah. Open up." Sara felt a pang of guilt as she saw that the kicked-puppy had shown up. Sighing, she slid the device under his tongue. "I'm sorry, Nottingham. It's just that Gabriel told me something that kinda freaked me out right before you came back. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Thass awight, mah Wady," he mumbled around the thermometer, bringing a small smile to her tired face.
Sara noticed that his febrile eyes were hollow with exhaustion and that his lips had become chapped from the cold. Absently, she removed some of the clear lip gloss from her own lips and smoothed it onto his.
At her touch, Nottingham stiffened, eyes widening, and a strangled groan came from deep within his chest.
Sara froze, her fingertip still touching Ian's lower lip, only then realizing what she had done without thinking. On her wrist, the Witchblade began to pulse wildly, its deep fiery glow mirroring the blushes that abruptly reddened both of their faces. Fast double beeps shattered the shocked silence that had blanketed the SUV's interior.
Sara removed her finger from Nottingham's lip and then took the thermometer from his mouth, reaching up to turn on the overhead light with a visibly shaking hand so that she could read the miniscule LED screen.
"102.8," Sara said huskily. She cleared her throat. "At the rate your fever's rising, it's gonna top 106 by tomorrow night, Nottingham. You need to get that antidote A.S.A.P."
"But it has not reached 103 yet," Ian said hoarsely, barely able to form coherent sentences. "You said I did not have to return to the estate unless it rose higher than 103. So, we can still go check out the abandoned ice factory that Alonzo Brown says is Angel's new place of business. It is not far from here. Unfortunately, Mr. Brown claimed not to know the exact whereabouts of Angel or his brother. However, I am hopeful of discovering that they are both at the new location."
Sara stared at him in consternation for several long moments. "Okay, you can go check it out. But I'm gonna go nuts if I have to sit in this car again while you case the joint. Take me home first. There's nothing we can do even if we discover that Angel really has set up shop there. Not until he makes the pickup of that drug shipment. Drop me off at my place, then come back down here and check it out. Call me and let me know what, if anything, you find. Then go home and get that antidote. Okay?"
"As you wish, my Lady," Ian said quietly, unhappy that she was so obviously eager to part company with him.
They made the trip to Tribeca in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Nottingham double-parked the SUV in front of Sara's building and escorted her to her door, performing another security sweep in near-total darkness before allowing her inside the loft.
"I'll be waiting for your call, Nottingham. Please be careful. I mean, I know you're a shadow and all, but still," Sara said, walking him to the door. "Angel and Joaquin are bad news."
"I will be careful, my Lady." He hesitated before turning to leave, screwing up his courage. "Sara, may I ask you a question?"
Sara tensed, but nodded. "Sure. Doesn't mean I'll answer, but go ahead, knock yourself out."
Ian kept his eyes fixed on the floor, very afraid of what he would see in her beautiful eyes if he were to look up. "Did the upsetting information that Mr. Bowman shared with you have to do with me?"
"Yes, it did," she acknowledged.
Ian bowed his bare head, the loose tendrils of hair falling forward to hide his expression, but not before she saw a stark look of something very close to despair on his haggard face. "Thank you for being honest, my Lady," he said quietly and turned to go.
"Your lips," Sara blurted out, suddenly loathe to have him leave.
He turned back, lifting shadowed hazel eyes to meet hers briefly. "What about them?"
"They were chapped," she said softly. "I couldn't have my Protector running around with chapped lips, could I?"
One of those tiny almost-smiles turned up the corners of those lips. "No, I suppose not." He gave her one of his courtly bows. "I will call you in a little while, my Lady." And turning, he left.
Sara went to the window overlooking the street and watched as he got into his SUV. It wasn't until he had driven off that she realized that she had forgotten to grab her tampons from the back seat.
More to come. I look forward to, read, and deeply appreciate all of my feedback. Keep it coming! And thanks!