Elven Encounter Page 5

  Gent and Niall stared at her, genuinely puzzled. Then they exchanged glances. “I believe,” Niall said slowly, “we need to talk. Sara, put the bat down. We won’t hurt you.”

  “A little chat over tea with a couple of madmen. No thanks.” Sara waved her weapon as threateningly as she could. “I told you once, leave. Go find someone else to fuck with.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that, Sara.”

  A tendril of light snaked from Niall’s glowing body to twine around the bat. As it if were a lasso, it pulled the object from Sara’s hands and laid it harmlessly to rest on the carpet.

  Niall sat up, serious as death. “Like I said. We should talk.”

  Sara’s knees shook and threatened to give out from underneath her. “Yeah,” she said weakly, sitting down hard on a floor cushion. “That might be for the best. Let’s start with this one. What the hell is going on here?”

  Chapter Four

  Sara sat on the edge of her cream-colored sofa, picking at the label on a bottle of beer. Not the highest-quality brew on the market, just what she’d happened to have handy. It felt reassuringly solid in her hands, cold and frosty. When she took a sip, the yeasty hops on her tongue convinced her that she wasn’t dreaming.

  Nope, not off in La-La Land. She was in her own den, facing down two perfect tens who sat together on her matching loveseat, each one with an arm thrown around one another’s shoulders. Twin beer bottles rested on the coffee table between them, both measures of warming brew more than half-drunk.

  She would have preferred wine, but the, um, Elves asked for beer. And after a fuck like the one they’d just been through, Sara supposed she owed them at least a draft of something they enjoyed.

  For their part, they owed her a hell of a lot more.

  She leaned forward to put her bottle down, wiped her hand on the leg of her jeans, and sat back with a sigh. “So, run that past me one more time?”

  Gent looked puzzled. “What wasn’t clear?”

  Sara rolled her eyes. “The part where you claim to be Elves, for Christ’s sake. Sheesh. The men of my dreams, and they turn out to be psychotics. That’ll teach me to let strangers in my house, no matter how hot they are.”

  “You think we’re hot?” Gent asked with genuine interest.

  “Duh.” Sara raised a hand in the air. “Have either of you looked in a mirror lately? Okay, so neither of you seems like the vain type, but I’m betting a crowd of women follow you everywhere to drive the point home. You’re over-the-top on a hotness scale of one to ten.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you use it, too, don’t you? Bowl a woman off her feet, have a great time, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, and then scare her away with these bogus stories.”

  “You don’t believe us,” Niall said flatly. “After all that you’ve seen?”

  Sara shook her head. “The ears could be prosthetics. What are you doing, playing hooky from a sci-fi convention?”

  “A what?” Niall frowned. “I don’t think we’ve run across one of those yet. Gent?”

  Gent shook his head. “We were supposed to attend one next month if we hadn’t found the right woman yet.” He gave Sara a delighted smile. “But we’ve gotten lucky, haven’t we?”

  “Damn right you got lucky. More than once.” Sara sighed. “Okay, game’s over. If you two aren’t going to come clean, then this conversation is over.”

  “What about the baseball bat?” Niall asked. “How could I have gotten that away from you without magic?”

  Sara thought fast. “Either I was out of my mind from the orgasms, or you pulled some kind of sleight of hand. That light-show lasso didn’t exist.” She nodded, decided. “Nice tricks, boys, but I’m just not that gullible.”

  Gent and Niall turned to one another, identical expressions of frustration on their faces. They spoke in rapid-fire Gaelic, or whatever their gibberish happened to be. Feeling slightly buzzed from her beer, enough to be philosophical about whatever craziness popped up next, Sara watched them. Gent was excited about something, making emphatic gestures. Niall said much less, pulling his arms back and folding them across his chest, his face going stony.

  Apparently, whatever it was they were discussing, there was division in the ranks. Sara reached for her beer and took another sip, then one more for good measure. She plunked it down in the condensation ring and got comfortable, waiting for the two to finish their debate.

  When Niall had gotten the last word in, Gent sat and stewed for a moment, his jaw jutting out stubbornly.

  “Well?” Sara asked, admiring her own calm. “What’s the word from Mr. Elf Senior over there?”

  Gent’s faced flushed with irritation, which was borne out by his words: “Don’t be sarcastic. We’ve never been anything but serious with you, even when we were having fun.”

  “Oh, yeah. Here’s to good times.” Sara shook her head. “What is with me today? I should be digging out my shotgun and calling 911, but instead I’m sitting here like we’re on an episode of Coffee Talk.”

  “You sense that we’re different,” Niall broke in, accent heavy. “Something within you calls to us, just as something in us called to you when we parked in your driveway.” He hunched forward, knotting his fingers together. “We were meant to be together, the three of us. Gent and I have been hunting for the right woman for months and months of your time now.”

  “Riiiight, because time passes differently where you come from.” Sara could hear the sarcasm dripping off her voice, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. “That would be Under-hill, right? Where all the happy little Elves play with silver and lie around all day eating peeled grapes?”

  The faintest of grins tugged at Niall’s mouth. “You’re confusing Gaelic mythology and Roman history. But you’re not that far off. Life in the Under-hill can be a unending orgy for the senses that never grows old, or for some, a place to call home while they explore the world.”

  “Uh-huh. And you two would be a couple of those wanderers, right?”

  “Gent and I, yes. There are hundreds of others wandering the earth. Some older than time, and some in the blush of youth.”

  “So, the next time I run into a hottie, I should check for pointy ears and poke him to see if he’s stuffed full of bullshit?”

  “Sara, please. What do I have to do to convince you that neither Gent nor I are playing you?” Niall unlaced his fingers and held them open. His bottle of beer floated across the table to land in his hand. He lifted it and drank deeply. “Do you have anything besides this frozen American water?”

  “And he’s a beer snob, too,” Sara said, although she wasn’t quite able to take her eyes off the magically floating bottle. She couldn’t exactly blame that on sexual loopiness. Although the sight of Niall, even fully dressed, was definitely setting her on fire again. The man just oozed pure sexiness without even trying. And as for Gent? Sitting back with his red hair fanned over his shoulders, he had a face and a smile worth a million dollars.

  The two best-looking men she’d ever met, one of them the best lay in her life and another with plenty of promise, and they were nuts. Or making her nuts. The bitch of it all was that, crazy or not, she still wanted them.

  Niall took advantage of Sara’s moment of indecision. He got up off the loveseat and side-stepped the coffee table to go down on one knee beside her. “You’ve won the heart of two Elves,” he said so earnestly that she had to pay attention. “We don’t give our love easily, not true love. But from the moment we saw you, both Gent and I knew. You are the one for us, and even if you make us leave you behind, there’ll never be another. No woman could replace you.”

  Sara wavered. She knew she wasn’t the best judge of people -- Rick being a great big case in point. But Niall didn’t act like a liar. His expression and his hands were both steady, patient, waiting for her to speak her piece. “How do I know I can trust you?” she asked at last. “The last man I let in took over my life and then left me hanging.”

  “Ah, then he was a cad. Neither Gent nor I wou
ld ever do such a thing.” Niall took one of Sara’s hands in his own. Either he was hot, or her fingers had grown cold. He began to chafe her hand between his palms, warming it up. “You’re like ice. Are you that dismayed about what we’ve told you?”

  “It’s not like you turned out to be Seventh Day Adventists,” Sara admitted. “I mean, come on. You’re pushing all the boundaries here. I’ve stretched pretty far today. Sex with two strangers. Really, really good sex. That’s going a long way for me. But now you want me to believe in Elves?”

  Niall frowned for a moment, apparently lost in thought. When he glanced back up at Sara, his expression was both serious and curious. “Do you believe in God?”

  Sara frowned. “I believe in an all-powerful force of good.”

  “That’s a start. Do you have any proof that this force is real?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Yet you still believe it exists.”

  Sara couldn’t figure out where he was going with this line of questioning. “I do. It’s just something I know in my heart.”

  “So you believe in the unbelievable.”

  The light dawned. “Oh, no. No way are you trying that kind of crazy logic on me.” Sara picked up her beer bottle and drained it to the last drop. “Clever, though, I’ll give you that. Now why don’t you and Mr. Sunshine over there get back on your bikes and head off down the road to a gas station with an auto bay? It’s been an afternoon to remember, but I’m not signing up for any sort of long-term relationship with a couple of nuts who call themselves Elves.” She covered her mouth over a delicate burp. “See yourselves out, will you?”

  Gent started to say something, still in that odd language, but Niall cut him off. “All right,” he told Sara, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Just remember this -- if you ever change your mind, if you ever want anything to do with us again, just go to a window, look up at the moon, and say our names. We’ll be at your side as soon as possible.”

  Sara mentally put that on her list of things she would never, ever, ever deliberately do. “Sure thing. Mind if I drink the last of your beer?” She reached over the table and snagged Gent’s abandoned bottle. “On your way out, don’t let the door hit you where the Good Lord split you.”

  Gent sighed. “I’d hoped you would come around, Sara. We could have a grand life together.”

  “Bye, now.” Sara focused on the green glass bottle in her hand. Part of her wanted to cry from sheer frustration, and the rest of her was shaking its head over what a fool she’d been. Forcing back the emotions, she lifted Gent’s beer to her lips and listened to them head for her front door -- and stop.

  “Sara?” Niall asked, stepping back into view. “Sara, would you mind coming here?”

  “Any reason I should?”

  “There’s an oversized oaf coming up your walkway with a bunch of half-dead roses and a bottle of champagne. And a gun under his open blazer, in a shoulder holster, where anyone could see. Sara, is this the man you were talking about earlier?”

  “A gun?” Sara thunked her bottle down. “Oh, shit. Stand aside, both of you. Let me see.”

  Gent and Niall parted ways for her to push through and apply her eye to the tiny peephole. She groaned as she recognized Rick himself, just as described, walking a crooked line with a great deal of effort. He was even singing to himself, albeit badly off-key.

  Gent shot Sara a disbelieving look. “This is the kind of man you’d rather spend time with?”

  Sara dealt back a withering glance. “No, this would be another type of guy I’m not interested in. You guys ever had a run-in with the cops? If so, now would be the time to slink out my back door.”

  “You’re not going to let him in, are you?” Niall put a protective hand on Sara’s shoulder. She thought about shrugging it off, but he felt comforting and warm. “He’s drunk and I don’t think he’s planning on taking no for an answer.”

  “He’s also my problem, not yours.”

  Niall shook his head. “You wouldn’t swear to us, but Gent and I swear to you. Gent?”

  The redhead nodded. “We’re bound to stand by your side and be your protectors if we see that you’re in danger.”

  Niall banged on the door as Rick managed to fumble his way up on the front stoop. “She isn’t home!”

  Richard’s head wobbled on his neck like a broken daisy stem. He managed to blink owlishly at the door. “What th’ hell? Sara, who you got in there? You been cheating on me?”

  “Why, that bastard!” Sara seethed, lunging for the doorknob. “I’ll show him a thing or two about cheating, the low-down, two-timing --”

  “Stop.” Gent caught her by the wrist. “I have a bad feeling about this, Sara. Let us take care of the problem.”

  “Sara?” Rick asked, holding up the shabby bouquet of flowers. “Lemme in, Sar’. See? I’ve got roses and bubbly stuff. I’ll make it all up to you, baby. You know you wanna give me one more chance.”

  “Like hell I do!” Sara fired back. “Get your sorry ass off my front steps before I call the cops again.”

  Rick looked startled. Then the familiar look of ugly rage spread across his face. “Again? You the one who told the cops to pull me over for a DUI? I almost went to jail, you bitch. Open up!”

  “They should have put you in jail, or out on the side of the road to sleep it off. No way are you getting inside. Go home, Rick.”

  “No, no, no. First of all you won’t even let me talk to you. Now I find out you set the cops on my ass?” Sara watched in horror as Rick dropped the roses and reached for the bulge under his preppy blazer. “Looky what I found. A gift from the guys.” He pulled out a snub-nosed pistol. “See here? Now open up. You and I are gonna talk this thing out.”

  “Sara, don’t even think about doing what he says,” Niall warned her.

  “I hear someone in there with you, Sara.” Rick’s voice was twisted with rage. “You couldn’t even let the bodies get cold, could you? Who were you seeing on the side while I trusted you to be my faith -- faithful --”

  “Who weren’t you seeing on the side?” Sara demanded, just before Niall gave her a shove that sent her away from the door. He dodged as she fell, both of them in mid-air as the crack of a gunshot rang out.

  Sara landed in a tumble on the floor, gaping up at her door. The bullet had gone clean through the wood, leaving an enormous splintery hole in its wake. “What the fuck?” she whispered to Niall. “He shot at us!”

  “And he’ll do it again,” Niall said grimly. “Gent, are you hurt?”

  “No. I dodged. But, Sara, let us handle things from here on in. I don’t want you injured.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said defiantly.

  “No one’s saying you can’t. But Rick isn’t going to do anything but hurt you. He’s not shooting with iron, so he can’t damage us past healing.” The cheerful Gent looked deadly serious. “Get back and let us handle him.”

  Sara chewed at her lip. “Exactly what do you plan to do? He’s drunk off his ass and thinks he’s Dirty Harry. And what do you mean, not shooting with iron? How do you know what kind of bullets he’s got chambered in that gun?”

  “They’re alloy, just regular bullets.” Gent picked a tiny object off the floor. “These are Glazer safety rounds. Maximum punch, major damage. He’s not fooling around, Sara. Now for the love of the Lord and Lady, get down and stay down. Please.” He darted in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you. We both love you. Trust in us.”

  Sara sat still, utterly stunned. Love?

  “You think you’re such a big man?” Niall demanded of Rick. “I’ll open up, all right. Then we’ll see if you’ve got the balls to handle someone your own size.” He turned the deadbolt and slid the chain free.

  “Bastard… stealin’ my woman…”

  “Not yours anymore,” Gent declared, coming to stand next to Niall. Shoulder to shoulder, they were broad enough to block the door completely. Sara tsked in annoyance and scrambled behind them, peering through
Niall’s calves. Her mind was racing. She’d known Rick was a bad guy, but to actually take a shot at her? What if she’d gotten hurt?

  God, what if Niall or Gent got hurt because of her?

  Sara wasn’t sure of much, but she knew that the last thing she wanted was for blood to be spilled over a sorry son-of-a-bitch like Rick. Making up her mind in a snap, she tugged at both Niall and Gent’s legs. When they glanced down at her, she spoke quickly. “You say you’re Elves, right? And you can go back and forth between Under-hill whenever you feel like it?”

  Niall nodded. “Yes, but --”

  “No buts. Take us there. Even if you have a face-off now, Rick’s just going to keep coming back and coming back. Maybe next time he’ll get lucky and shoot me through a window.” Sara’s heart beat in triple time. “You get us somewhere safe, and then maybe I’ll believe you about this whole magic thing.”

  Niall and Gent exchanged glances. Niall nodded slightly, and Gent grinned.

  “Sara? Sar’, open up!” Sara heard a dull banging, as if Rick were knocking the butt of the pistol against her door. “I’m not afraid to use this! You’re mine, and we’re gonna have this out. I’ll shoot the lock out if I have to.”

  “Now would be good,” Sara urged. “Let’s get a move on.”

  Niall and Gent extended their hands to her. “Hold on,” Gent instructed. “Close your eyes.”

  Sara grabbed on tight and squeezed her eyelids shut. She heard the sound of a second gunshot, had one moment to panic about whether or not it had hit anyone, and then…

  Then…

  She was kneeling in thick grass, the long stems tickling at her legs. Her eyes flew open. As she let go of Gent and Niall’s hands, Sara stared around herself.

  “I know I didn’t drop any acid,” she murmured. “Nothing but adrenaline running through me right now.”