Stars of Fortune (The Guardians Trilogy, #1)(27)

She stopped to trail her fingers over a low-hanging lemon. “It’s so cool and smooth.”

“A lot of lemon trees around here.”

“Lemon,” she repeated, as she had his name.

“I didn’t bring a key, so we’ll go around and up the back.”

She looked at everything as they walked, went up the terrace steps with him without protest.

Since the light remained on in Bran’s room, Sawyer gave a rap on the terrace doors.

Still in his jeans and T-shirt, Bran opened one of the doors.

“Look who I found.”

“Hello.” Annika smiled at him.

“Annika, this is Bran Killian.”

“Brankillian, hello.”

“Happy to meet you, Annika.”

“I like happy.”

“Sure and who doesn’t? Best take her down—the kitchen, I guess, as this may call for either wine or coffee. I’ll get the others.”

“I like wine,” she said as Sawyer led her down the terrace toward his open doors. “Will I have some?”

“Yeah, we’re loaded.”

“Oh, this is very pretty. All the pictures and the little things. And the bed. Is the bed soft?”

She dropped her bag and sat on the side of it, bounced, then flopped back, arms spread. “It is!”

She flung her arms back over her head, wiggled down. The gesture went straight to his loins. Down boy, he ordered.

“We should go on down.”

“Down?” She sat up, and for the first time looked distressed.

“Downstairs,” he explained. “So you can meet the others.”

“The others, yes.” She bounced off the bed, offered her hand.

He led her out, started down the stairs while she tried to look at everything at once.

“I had the same reaction when I first got here. It’s a hell of a place.”

“Hell of a place,” she repeated, her tone awed.

When they got to the kitchen, she released his hand, ran hers over the refrigerator. “It shines.” After tugging on the handle, she let out a long ahh.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes! It’s very cold inside.”

“Professional grade. We’ve got some pasta left over from dinner. It’s good stuff.” He pulled out the container. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll heat it up.”

“Thank you very much.” She sat at the table, running her fingers over the top. “This is very pretty, too. Everything is.”

She watched him dump the pasta onto a plate, stick the plate in a microwave, punch buttons.

Before she could speak, the others came in, so she said, “Hello.”

“And then there were five,” Riley said. “Annika?”

“Yes! Hello.”

Riley reached in the wine fridge. “I guess this calls for a bottle. Riley. Riley Gwin. What’s the rest of yours?”

“The rest of mine?”

“Name. Your full name?” After a long beat of silence, Riley dug out the corkscrew. “As in first and last. Riley, first name, Gwin, last name. And we have Sasha.”

“Riggs.” Studying the newcomer, Sasha selected wineglasses. “And you met Bran.”

“And Sawyer.” Annika beamed at him.

“King.”

Her eyes went huge, her voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “You’re a king?”

As Riley snorted, Sawyer looked into those wide eyes, sea green, flecked with gold. “My last name’s King.”

“I’m Annika, first name . . . Waters, last name. Annika Waters,” she said more definitely. “Hello.”

“I think she’s a little high,” Riley said to Bran in an undertone.

“We climbed the steps to the house. It’s very high.”

“Good ears. You been doing some drugs, Annika?”

“No. Am I supposed to?”

“No.” Sasha sat across from her, set the portfolio on the table. “Where are you from?”

“My—family—we go many places.”

“Originally? Where were you born?”

“I don’t know. I was only a baby.”

Laughing now, Sawyer set the plate in front of Annika. “Got you there, Sasha.”

Annika picked up the fork, turned it to study, and very carefully stabbed a piece of penne. She slipped it into her mouth, then pressed her hands to her lips as she laughed. “Warm.” She speared a piece of cherry tomato, then a black olive. Closed her eyes a moment as she ate, then opened them, and ate more.

“It’s good stuff,” she said. She lifted the glass Riley had given her, sipped. “It’s good stuff,” she repeated. “I like wine, and this food. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sasha opened the portfolio, took out the sketch of all six, then slid it across the table.

Annika let out a delighted gasp, traced her finger over her own face, then Sawyer’s. “It’s a picture. This is I, and this is Sawyer. Riley, Sasha, Brankillian. Bran,” she corrected. “Everyone is so pretty! But this one isn’t here?”

“No.”

“Where is he?”

“We don’t know. Do you know him?”