“Oh, God,” Elspeth muttered and flopped back in her seat, her eyes closing.
“Isn’t she adorable? One hundred forty-one years old and she still blushes like a teenager,” Francis said with amusement, and then, in a suddenly serious tone full of warning, added, “And that should tell you something, so go slow and gentle with our little Ellie. Her mother hasn’t let her out much.”
Elspeth groaned, but refused to open her eyes or respond to the incorrigible man’s comments, until she heard his laughter fade as if he was moving away. Squinting one eye open, she saw with relief that he had and opened the other eye as well, but she refused to look at Wyatt. Family could be so embarrassing at times.
“Interesting guy, your uncle,” Wyatt commented as he steered the truck slowly forward through the first gate. “Doesn’t look anything like you.”
“He’s my uncle’s wife,” she said. “I mean his husband. Whatever, he’s my uncle by marriage.”
“Okay,” Wyatt said easily, and then paused in front of the second gate to wait, and cleared his throat before asking, “Did he say you were one hundred forty-one years old?”
“I’m not one hundred forty-one,” she informed him.
“Oh,” he breathed.
Noting his relief, she added, “I’m one hundred forty-two.”
Wyatt’s eyes widened incredulously. He swallowed and then said weakly, “Oh.”
“Wyatt, about this life mate business, I—”
“It’s all right,” he interrupted, his voice gaining strength again. “G.G. said you weren’t ready for one, that you left your mother intending to enjoy a taste of freedom.”
“Yes,” she breathed with relief.
“I understand.” Wyatt smiled at her reassuringly and then asked, “So, who is this guy?”
Elspeth turned to peer at the blond man who had approached the SUV and was now running a mirror on a long stick under the pickup. “That’s my uncle Russell, Uncle Francis’s husband.”
“What’s he checking for under the SUV?” Wyatt asked with a frown.
“Bombs, trackers, or rogues hanging underneath the truck. Anything that might be a problem,” she explained, smiling at her uncle when he glanced her way.
“You’re kidding,” Wyatt said with amazement. “Just what goes on out here?”
“It’s just a precaution,” she assured him as Russell finished and walked back to the gatehouse. “They’ve had some trouble in the past.”
“Right. Trouble,” Wyatt muttered, easing his foot off the brake as the second gate began to open.
“They won’t make you go through that on the way out. They only check incoming vehicles. Usually,” she added to be honest, and then told him, “Just follow the lane that curves up in front of the house.”
“Where does the other lane go?” Wyatt asked, his gaze sliding over what he could see of the buildings behind the house.
“To the dog kennels, the cells, and the garage where the Enforcers’ SUVs are,” she responded absently as she saw Valerian and Tybo coming out of the house.
“Cells? Like for prisoners?” Wyatt asked with surprise as he pulled to a halt in front of the house.
“Sure. We have to put the rogues somewhere,” she pointed out, collecting the bag holding her ruined purse and its contents. Reaching for the door, she smiled at him and offered, “Thank you for understanding. And thank you very much for driving me out here. I appreciate it. Will you be okay finding your way back home?”
“Sure. The truck has GPS,” he said easily.
“Right. Thanks again.” She pushed her door open and smiled when Tybo held it for her.
“Elspeth! Feeling better today I hope?” the hunter said, offering her a hand out.
“Yes. Thank you,” she murmured as she stepped out.
“Good, good,” Tybo said cheerfully, and then urged her to the side so that he could look inside the SUV. “Hey Wyatt! How’s it hanging?”
It seemed Wyatt had made new friends, Elspeth noted. Nodding a greeting to Valerian, she left the men talking and hurried into the house.
Eight
“Wait. What?” Elspeth stared at Mortimer with disbelief. “You’re putting bodyguards on me?”
“It’s just until we sort out who’s behind these attempts on your life,” Mortimer said soothingly.
“The stabbing wasn’t an attempt on my life,” Elspeth snapped impatiently. When he arched one eyebrow, she grimaced and said, “Yes, all right, it was. But it was a one-time thing. The guy was mortal. He was also psychotic or something. He was off his meds and delusional, and the police took him away. He’s in jail or a hospital now. The two incidents weren’t connected. In fact, the second incident was probably just an accident. Someone in a hurry just bumped me and accidentally knocked me into the road,” Elspeth assured him.
“You were pushed. It wasn’t an accident,” Mortimer said firmly.
Shaking her head with frustration, Elspeth paced away from his desk. This had been the last thing she’d expected to be greeted with when she’d entered Mortimer’s office. This was just crazy, and so freaking unfair!
Spinning around, Elspeth marched back to his desk and slammed her bag on its wooden surface. “Mortimer, I moved to Canada so that I wouldn’t have to live with my mother hovering over me all the time. Now she’s here, and you want to stick a couple of men on me to boot? Unbelievable!”
“Yes, well . . .” Mortimer shifted his stapler on the desk, and then his mouse, and grimaced. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any men to spare to guard you at the moment. As you know, we’re stretched pretty thin just now.”
“Thank God,” she said with relief, thinking it meant she would avoid guards after all.
“However, Sam, Rachel, Lissianna, and Alex have volunteered to take turns guarding you in pairs until we figure out who is behind these attacks and put an end to them.”
“Attack,” she snapped. “Singular. And we don’t even know if it was a serious attack on me. Maybe it was just another mentally ill individual running around randomly pushing people into the road.”
“Fine. Attack in the singular,” he agreed. “But it does not matter. One attack or two, you will still have a guard with you until we know what is happening.”
Elspeth dropped into the chair in front of Mortimer’s desk with a sigh. It seemed she hadn’t escaped a guard after all. Sam, Rachel, Lissianna, and Alex were going to—
“Alex who?” she asked suddenly.
“Sam’s sister,” Mortimer admitted apologetically.
“You mean my brother Cale’s wife?” she asked with a frown.
“Oh, yeah.” He smiled faintly. “I always forget he’s your brother.”
Elspeth nodded, and then arched her eyebrows. “Alex is going to guard me?”
“She’s very good with a knife,” he assured her.
“Yeah, at chopping and dicing onions! She’s a chef, Mortimer,” Elspeth said with exasperation. “And Lissianna is a housewife now, Rachel a doctor, and Sam a lawyer. They aren’t bodyguards, Mortimer.”
“Have I mentioned that we’re shorthanded?” he growled. “Just think of it as a girls’ night that’s going to last days . . . or weeks. However long it takes,” he ended with a grimace. “Just go get your nails done, have facials, or hit The Night Club, drink Wino Reds, and giggle about how stupid and pathetic we men are or something, but do it with the women accompanying you.”
Elspeth sat back and eyed him with sudden understanding. “Mother wanted the bodyguards.”
“She wanted me to put six men on you around the clock,” he said unhappily. “But I just don’t have the manpower. Hopefully, having the women with you will prevent future attacks and appease your mother.”
“Hmm,” Elspeth said on a sigh. She didn’t think it was likely. Her mother would not be appeased. She’d insist on guarding her as well and would end up herding them all around like they were a gaggle of grade-schoolers on a field trip. But then, Martine would have done the same thing had her guards been six strong and able Enforcers armed to the teeth. Her mother had issues with the safety of her children. She was also an original Atlantean, born there before the fall, owned a home in New York where she went when they had to leave England to handle the not-aging business, and as such had a seat on both the North American and British Councils of Immortals. On top of that, she was a member of the board of directors for Argeneau Enterprises, which paid Mortimer and the hunters for their work. With all of that weight behind her, Mortimer couldn’t really afford not to do as she wished . . . unless Uncle Lucian trumped her demands. Unfortunately, Uncle Lucian wasn’t here to intervene.