Shadow, page 4
part #1 of Jaegers of the Consortium Series
Rolling her eyes at how obtuse he was being, Ayla looked up at the rope holding her right wrist while she started whipping it around to get free of the ornate bedpost. While her left wrist and both of her ankles were firmly secure, Lucas always left her right wrist loose in the event of an emergency. This certainly qualified.
Still oblivious, Lucas brought the riding crop high over his head and aimed for Ayla’s abdomen just below the naval. “Want it rough tonight?” he asked with that big smile still plastered over his face. “Alright, I can oblige you.” His arm started its arc down just as Ayla let out a shrill scream while jerking her head in a couple of short upward motions.
Crash.
The vase shattered across the back of Lucas’ head. He let out a low moan and crumpled to the floor, dropping the riding crop in the process. “You leave her alone, you ruffian!” Charity yelled. Ayla saw Charity’s eyes land on a heavy-looking Polynesian pottery jar on Ayla’s dresser; she was on the hunt for another weapon.
“Ruffian?” Lucas grumbled as he struggled to regain his bearings, “what, are we in the Theocracy or something?” He attempted to get up, but only managed a kneeling position, so he settled for crawling across the floor.
Charity ignored his mutterings and kicked him in the side with her heeled boot. She dashed by him toward the pottery jar.
By the time her friend had the new weapon, Ayla had freed her hand and was yanking the rope gag out of her mouth. She started yanking at the ropes to get her left hand free. “Charity! Don’t! It’s consensual!”
With the big piece of pottery hefted over her head, she was poised to strike the man crawling across the floor. And then, a pause. “Wait… what?” She shook her head as if to make sure that she’d heard her correctly.
“Lucas is here at my request!” Ayla shouted as she sat up to start working on the rope holding her ankles in place. She swore under her breath at Lucas’ ability to tie knots around the intricate scrollwork of her bedposts. She reached under her pillow and came up with one of the knives that she kept stashed there and started cutting at the rope instead of struggling to untie it.
“Uh, yeah, hi, nice to meet you,” Lucas groaned as he crawled toward the wall, sitting back against it while he held the back of his head, naked and defeated. His hand came away slick with blood. He pulled open a lower drawer of a nearby dresser and groped around for something to hold against his head, coming up with one of Ayla’s brown skirts. “Really? A knife? That’s fucking cheating,” he said when he saw how Ayla had escaped. “I thought that you said that you could get out of those easily.”
“It’s this or the beamer gun I have stashed under my pillow,” Ayla threw him an annoyed look.
Charity was still watching the interplay between them. It took a moment for the truth to register on her face, and when it did, her hands went to her mouth in shock, and she dropped the jar in the process, causing it to shatter on the floor. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I’m sorry! I am so, so sorry!” she said as she tried to back out to the door, but only bumped up against the doorjamb.
Ayla laughed. Charity looked shocked, but also looked a little aroused, as a slight flush on her cheeks began to take hold. Lucas was laughing now, too. He was staring at the flush of Charity’s chest, from her collarbone down to the first swells of her breasts peeking over the top of her corset dress.
Charity’s blush deepened. “I’m so, so sorry! Oh God! This was all just a terrible mistake!” she said, finally turning on her heel and darting from the room.
Grinning, Lucas jerked his head toward the doorway. “So who’s your little friend, and why haven’t you brought her around before?”
Ayla rolled her eyes again. “Charity, wait!” She frantically worked the knife across the last knot to get her leg free. Once she severed the rope, Ayla threw her robe on and rushed for the door. “See yourself out, Luc. I’ve got to go see if she’s okay.”
“See if she’s okay? Who got nailed with the vase here?”
“Oh you’ll live, it’s just a scratch.”
“If she aimed any lower, I would’ve been knocked out!”
“Yeah, and if she decided to really follow through, she would’ve kicked you square in the nuts instead of the side.” Ayla said. “Charity! Wait!”
Chapter 4
What had she been thinking, coming down here unannounced like this in the middle of the night? Charity barley heard them arguing as she fled. She headed right down the stairs into the foyer, straight out the front doors and down the lit walkway. Pausing, she looked around, wondering where the carriage house was. It was hard to tell in the middle of the night. She didn’t want to go home to Atlanta any time soon, but maybe Ayla’s parents would let her stay at their estate in New Eden.
“Charity, wait a minute!” Charity turned around and gaped at the sight of Ayla running down the walkway in nothing more than a night robe that flowed unsecured behind her, breasts bouncing slightly with each step.
Ayla wrapped her up in a big hug. “It’s good to see you!” she said, tying her robe closed. “But couldn’t you have at least called first to let me know that you were coming by? Come on, let’s get back up to the house,” she said, sliding her arm into Charity’s and guiding her back around.
“I am so sorry, Ayla. I would have, you know that, but this was a last minute decision,” Charity said, suddenly choked up with the emotional turmoil of the last few days.
“It’s okay, really,” Ayla smiled. “I’m not mad.”
“But your, um, guest?”
“Lucas?” She laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’s been through worse.” She steered Charity through the foyer to the living room and over to the nearest couch. “So sit down here and tell me what got you on a zepp in the middle of the night to come for a visit. Do your parents even know you’re here? You didn’t run off again, did you?”
“No, Mother and Father know I’m here,” Charity said. She proceeded to pour her heart out about everything: her parents arranging a marriage for her to someone she hated, the wedding planner, and then the latest fiasco with her bank account. “Everything is just messed up. I know that something is wrong, but I just can’t figure out what!” Charity wailed. “I thought, I don’t know, I-I thought that you might be able to do something to help?”
“Is everything okay with you two?” Lucas asked, leaning in to the living room. His grin vanished when he got his first, real look at Charity. Ayla knew what he was seeing. If Southern Belles from Dixie ever needed a poster girl, Charity would be it. She had long, blonde hair, fair skin, and a slight hourglass figure, just a little plump in the bottom and the bust. He looked like he’d been about to make a jest, but whatever it was dried up on his tongue. Ayla nudged her friend, and Charity looked up.
Lucas had dressed, and was now in a formal suit akin to that of wealthy bankers and businessmen. He almost looked a respectable gentleman. This was the man Charity smashed a vase over, and Ayla saw the moment when Charity realized it, and blushed. She was probably thinking that he looked just as good in clothes as he did out of them. Ayla grinned; Charity wasn’t nearly as innocent as she looked. She read romances from the low price of various copper stores.
Lucas walked in and took Charity’s hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, with genuine concern in his eyes, when he saw that she was crying.
“Umm, sorry about your head,” Charity managed.
Lucas gave her a charming smile before kissing the back of her hand. “Believe me, it’ll be fine,” he said, taking a step back.
“You can see yourself out, then, I take it?” Ayla asked, jerking her head toward the foyer. “I think this has just become a girls only night.”
“Yeah, not a problem,” Lucas said, donning his hat in a crooked manner to avoid the egg that was taking shape at the back of his head. He gave a polite cough to clear his throat, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “So, I don’t suppose that you’ll let me have one of your maids since you’re obviously unavailable now?” he asked with a sly grin. “I’m kind of… in a situation here with all that build up.”
“Out!”
He let out a snort of laughter as he headed for the door. “Hey, it doesn’t hurt to ask. Have a good evening, you two.”
Once Lucas was gone, Ayla had Charity go over everything again, this time slowly and in detail. She even had Charity show her the accounting journal.
Once she finished relating her tale, Charity looked at Ayla. “Everyone back home thinks I’m either being silly, lying, or both. But you’re great with business. You aced economics.”
“Yeah, but this sounds more like an accounting problem, not economics.” Ayla glanced back toward the foyer, irritated. “Damn, I wish that I’d had Lucas stay now. He’s the one with the mind for accounting.”
“I thought that all business people did their own accounting?”
Ayla shook her head. “No, the only reason why I’m good with business is because I have a damn good accountant keeping my books,” she said. “I can get him to look this over in the morning and see what he thinks. If there’s anything wrong with your accounts, he’ll find it.”
Charity’s eyes went wide with fright. “Lucas? But he must hate me for disrupting an evening with his girlfriend—and for hitting him over the head with your vase!”
“Girlfriend?” Ayla laughed. “Oh Gods no, Lucas and I aren’t involved. That was just sex.”
“You mean, you aren’t even engaged? But—how can you do it?”
“I don’t live in the hardcore conservative country of Dixie. Sex is sex.” Ayla smiled. “Besides, you’re not one to cast stones, considering you did the same thing in college.” Charity gave her a wan smile. Ayla put a comforting arm around her. “Look, we’re not going to get anything done this late at night,” she said, “so why don’t we turn in for the evening and I’ll ring Lucas to come back over tomorrow to help. Everything will be fine, trust me.”
Charity waited for Lucas in the breakfast nook, where she inhaled the warm ocean air as it blew in through the open windows. Now that morning had come, she could see the mansion grounds and realized just how close they were to the water. The grounds weren’t as sprawling as those of her home, but they were big enough to house the decent-sized mansion, the servants’ quarters, and the pool with accompanying recreational house. Past the pool house, lay the white, sandy beach that led into the clear waters of the Caribbean Sea. Trees lined the sides of the grounds, and just inside, she could see the stone wall outlining the property. The trees had been planted in such a way to block the neighboring properties from view.
She understood now why the island and the city were both called New Eden. The place was just like the paradise described in the beginning of the One Book. With the exception of the clockworks moving around the grounds, clipping the hedges and the grass, one would think that they were in the middle of nowhere. She lifted her tea to her lips and leaned back in her chair. In the warmth of the Caribbean region, she had opted for a lighter sundress, with a wide-brimmed hat sitting ready at the table to keep the harsh sunrays from burning her skin when she went outside.
Charity heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and Lucas came through the open doors. “Good morning, Miss Carmichael,” he said. He looked just as dashing and immaculate as he had last night. “Are you feeling better today?”
Charity smiled at him as she set her cup and saucer down. “Much, thank you, Mr…. oh. I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced.”
“Wolverton, Lucas Wolverton,” he said formally, picking her hand up and kissing her hand again, this time rubbing his thumb gently over her knuckles.
“Th-thank you,” she replied, her voice shaky as she drew her hand back. She wondered what it was about this man that made her feel weak. All that she knew about him was that he had a hard head and looked good naked. “So, uh, how is, um, your head today?” she asked, trying to shake free from the memory of his naked body.
“Just fine, thank you,” he replied as he took a seat across from her, setting his briefcase down on the table and his walking cane off to the side. “I went to a late night Doctori and he sealed it. The swelling has gone down and there won’t even be another scar to add to my collection.”
“I never like those beaked leather masks that they wear with their mag-goggles,” Charity wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “They’re creepy like something out of a horror novel. They give me nightmares.”
“The same could be said of any profession that uses magnifying goggles, “Lucas shrugged. “A lot of them are traditionalists. What are ya going to do?” He flipped the latches of his briefcase. The top sprung open and various accounting gadgets and tools spread out as a paper pad raised from the bottom, clearly an expensive case, and the sign of a high-end accountant. Lucas took a pen from his newly formed workspace and scribbled Charity’s name and a number at the top of the pad after checking something in a small journal that had opened up to his left. “So, Ayla tells me that you’re in a bit of financial trouble?”
“Yes, Mr. Wolverton. I brought the accounting journal that I got from my bank with me. I’m really hoping you can help.”
“Please,” Lucas smiled at her. His eyes went to her sun hat on the table, and then to her low-cut dress. She blushed. “Mr. Wolverton is my father; you can call me Lucas.”
“Then please, Mr.… Lucas, call me Charity.” He’d looked at her, so it was only fair she look at him in return. “Where is Ayla this morning? She left a note with one of her maids that said she had some business to attend to?”
“I saw her earlier when she came by my place to fill me in on everything. She has a… hostile takeover to handle. She’ll be back late tonight.”
Charity hoped that wasn’t as bad as it sounded. “How’d you come to be Ayla’s accountant?”
Lucas shrugged. “Fate has a funny way of setting things in motion, I guess. It’s a long way from what I knew as home.”
“Oh? Where are you from?”
His eyes became a bit distant as he leaned back in his chair and twirled his pen. “The country of Sonora, originally. My birth parents died when I was young, so I was a ward of the state for some time.”
Charity’s eyes went wide, and her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, bless your heart, you poor man. How horrible!”
Lucas shrugged again. “It is what it is,” he said, “no use in getting upset over it. Besides, I was much too young to remember it. I got adopted by a nice family from Geneva; so I moved to Europe, took their name, studied the family trade, did my schooling, and went into the Consortium. I met Ayla shortly after I graduated and moved here to become the Greenstars’ family accountant. And, now, here I am about to help her beautiful friend with her accounts.”
Charity blushed harder, and smiled up at him.
“How about you?” he asked.
Now it was Charity’s turn to shrug. “Born and raised in Marietta; my parents are the Count and Countess there and own stock in nearly every business. Money has never been an issue before now. Growing up, I felt so stifled. I barely left the plantation… except for social events and schooling.” Charity let out a resigned sigh and looked to the ocean. “I knew then that Baron Spence had his eye on me, wanting a beautiful wife he could march around, and my parents had their eyes on him for a potential match. That’s why I convinced them to let me go to Harvard up in the Corporate States where I majored in Pre-Cataclysm History and Literature.”
“Interesting subject to choose,” Lucas commented. “Not too many people like to think about the ancient days, where humanity’s survival was at risk because our ancestors were stupid enough to nearly destroy themselves with scorched earth tactics and unrestricted thermal warfare.” He shrugged in an attempt to suppress a shudder.
Humanity teetered on the balance during the Great War. Even Mother Earth seemed to have had enough when she broke under the Cataclysm that made the sea levels rise. Countries and kingdoms continued to fight until the Consortium formed and forced all of the warring nations of the world to the negotiating table.
“And I’m one of them,” Lucas said. “But is it true that they have a satellite campus that’s completely under water up there? Ayla said they did, but I have a hard time believing it.”
Charity laughed. “Yes, they do. It’s why they have the best underwater salvage program in the world. One of the men Ayla tried to set me up with was majoring in that field. Such a sight he was in all of that brass diving gear, with that boxy helmet and the big faceplate,” she said, her hands moving around her head while she described the suit. “I have a hard time believing that, for someone who’s been to Geneva, you’ve never been up to the Corporate States before.”
“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’ve been up north, but that was mainly for work in the capital, Indianapolis. So, now that we know a bit about each other, what say we get down to the business at hand?”
“Right.” Charity nodded. “I don’t have much money now, obviously, but I can pay you once everything is sorted out.”
“Please,” Lucas snorted, “this job I’d do for free, just because it’s a personal request from Ayla.
“But that wouldn’t be proper. Something must be always be paid for services rendered.” Charity straightened. “I will not be as my name implies—a charity case.” She reached to undo her necklace. “I have these gems, and the metal is expensive. Gold with inlaid platinum.”
Lucas shook his head. “I don’t want your jewelry as payment.” He smiled at her. “How about you go out to the theater with me this Saturday?”
Charity was taken aback. “I am an engaged woman! And you’re unmarried! I couldn’t possibly go out in public without an escort.”
“And, yet, here we are sitting in a kitchen all by our lonesome selves.”
“In the privacy of our friend’s home. No. I have clothes I could use as trade, if you will not accept the necklace.”
“I’m not taking any of your things,” Lucas said. He leaned back in his chair again and looked at her. “Alright, I have an idea of something you can give me. Think of it as services paid for services rendered.”
