Stars of Fortune (The Guardians Trilogy, #1)(38)

“It’s fun. I don’t like to fight.”

“Maybe not, but you’re good at it.”

When they followed the others, Bran looked after them, then back at the cave. His white smoke blocked the mouth, for now, but was already beginning to thin. It told him he had a great deal of work yet to do.

He hefted his pack back into place as he watched Sasha walk—limping a bit, he noted—down the rough track.

A great deal of work yet, he thought, in several areas.





CHAPTER EIGHT




Doyle’s way of getting around turned out to be pulled off into the brushwood well down the trail. As he brought it out, Riley fisted her hands on her hips.

“Classic. Harley Chopper. Twin Vs?”

“That’s right.”

“Bet she moves.”

Like his boots, the bike showed some battle scars—and like its owner, looked muscular and tough.

“The dragon!” Annika pointed to the red dragon, wings out, talons curled, painted on the side of the engine. “You ride the dragon. Sasha said.”

“Yeah. Where am I riding it?”

“Just west of Sidari,” Bran told him. “It would be easier if you followed us in.”

“All right. That yours?” he asked, gesturing to the jeep farther down.

“It is.”

“Can I ride the dragon, too?”

Doyle hesitated, then shrugged. “I hate saying no to a beautiful woman, so I won’t.” He swung a leg over, nodded to Annika. “Hop on.”

Sawyer hesitated. “You have to hold on to him,” he told Annika. “And lean into the turns—not against. Just lean into them a little. Okay?”

“Okay.” She got on behind Doyle, and laughed when he turned on the engine. “It roars!”

“Hold on to him,” Sawyer repeated, then quickened his steps to catch up to the others. “She’ll be all right.”

“I don’t think we just came through that little experience for her to take a header off a bike.” Riley got behind the wheel. “Relax.”

“Take the front.” Bran got into the back. “You’re pissed, and I won’t argue about it,” he said to Sasha as Riley navigated down the excuse for a road. “I’ll explain once we’re back at the villa and settled down some.”

“I just want to sleep.” And turning away from him, closing her eyes, Sasha surprised herself by doing just that.

* * *

She woke, headachy, her throat burning, her arm throbbing, when Riley bumped up the road to the villa.

When she got out, found her legs shaky, she wanted to crawl back into sleep.

“I need to clean up. You can start without me.”

Bran took her arm. “Sasha.”

She yanked free. “I can feel her on me. I need a shower.” Shaky or not, she got her legs moving, rushed straight into the house.

“Give her a little space,” Riley advised, giving the welcoming Apollo a quick rub. She glanced over toward Doyle as Annika jumped off the bike. “Look, we’ll get some food first, give her time to settle.” She looked down at her hands. “I want to clean up some myself.”

“Fine. We’ll all have a nice wash.”

“I’ll take mine down at the beach,” Sawyer decided.

“Oh, yes, a swim! I’ll go with you.”

“Great. Grab your suit.”

She looked blank. “My suit?”

“Bathing suit.”

“Oh, yes. I have one.” She dashed into the house, and Sawyer went up the terrace steps.

“What’s her story?” Doyle asked Bran.

“We’ve a lot of stories among us. If you’d wait a half hour. We’re a bloody mess, so we’ll do better cleaned up, and getting some food. There are two rooms left, and you can have your pick.”

“I’m a long way from staying.”

“That may be, but you’ve bat blood and guts and Christ only knows on you same as the rest of us. You can use the shower, do what you do after we talk. I’ll show you which rooms are left, and you use whichever you like.”

“I wouldn’t mind a shower.”

“Come inside, and you can have the two-penny tour along the way.”

“Hell of a house in a hell of a spot. Whose is it?”

“Friend of a friend of an uncle—of Riley’s. She’s connections.”

“Handy.”

“It has been. McCleary, is it? So your people are from Ireland?”

“Back a ways,” Doyle said as they started upstairs.

“Mine are still there—or most of them. Sligo.”

“Clare. I’m told.”

“Well, McCleary. Either of these two rooms are open to you.”

“This one’s fine.”

“Then it’s yours. Be at home, and if you’ll come down when you’re ready, we’ll put some food together and talk this through.”

He went into his own room, stripped down, and took a good look at his side. The cuts and slices on his arms didn’t bother him overmuch, but his side showed a maze of punctures and gashes from when a group of the bastards had swarmed him when he’d tried to get to Sasha.