Guardian's Joy #3 by Jacqueline Rhoades Page A

“Why are you doing
this?”
    He popped another bite of sandwich into her
mouth and took a bite of his own before answering. He didn’t want
to lie, but he didn’t want to frighten her either.
    “You’re my responsibility.”
    “Oh,” she said and was a little surprised at
her disappointment. “You mean this.” She showed him her hands. “It
wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know who I was, what I was.”
    “But I should have,” he said cryptically.
    Nardo stacked the dishes neatly on the tray.
He picked up his chair and carried it back to its original place.
Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.
    She kept her body relaxed and pretended she
didn’t feel the warmth of his body, the strips of heat from his
arms at her shoulders and knees. She forced her breathing into a
slow and steady in and out and she made sure she didn’t swallow too
deeply. She didn’t care if he thought she was sexually interested.
It didn’t matter what he thought as long as he didn’t recognize her
terror at being held like this.
    “Hey,” he laughed, “Relax. I won’t bite.”
    JJ’s eyes widened, her mouth opened and her
breath stopped. She slammed her hands against his chest. Nardo
didn’t move, but the force of her hands against him sent her
crashing to the floor. She scrambled backwards until her back hit
the wall, all pretense of control gone along with all rational
thought. There was only a frenzied whisper in her mind. “ Help
me! Help me!”
    “Joy, look at me.”
    The voice was calm, reasonable, but she
couldn’t take her eyes from the floor. She felt a thumb and finger
on either side of her jaw. It forced her chin up, but her eyes
remained cast down and she stared at the wavering lines between the
narrow oak planks of the floor.
    “Joy.” The voice was firmer now. “Look. At.
Me.”
    Soft hazel eyes met hers. They crinkled at
the corners.
    “That-a-girl,” Nardo said quietly, “Now
breathe. With me.”
    She hadn’t known she was gulping air again
until he made her slow to match his deep and even breathing. He
released her chin and slid his hand along her cheek. She leaned
into it and then froze and felt a flush rise to her cheeks, more
embarrassed by this show of weakness than she’d been by her near
hysteria.
    “Poor Joy,” he whispered. His hand stayed at
her cheek as the rough pad of his thumb traced her lower lip. “What
did that bastard do to you?”
    She couldn’t answer because she didn’t know.
She picked herself up unsteadily and let him help her to the
room.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter 12

    Dov hated patrolling in the winter. The
summer heat sometimes brought in demons at a rate of two or three a
week. Every summer night held the possibility of a battle. Late
December? Not so much. Nardo got the last one and they might not
see another until January. Canaan insisted they patrol anyway.
Maybe he could talk Nico into taking a buzz by the skating rink
behind City Hall. They officially closed at ten, but there were
always a few who stayed late. And some of those girls with their
short floaty skirts? Hot damn!
    Shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in the
pockets of his leather bomber jacket, Dov trudged beside Nico
through the streets of the city center. The sidewalk was covered
with a thin film of ice. Snowmelt from the slightly warmer
afternoon sun had refrozen with the setting sun. He took three
running steps and slid the next twenty feet, catching himself on a
streetlight designed to look like a nineteenth century gaslight.
Nico frowned.
    “Aw, come on, Nico. Didn’t you ever slide on
the ice when you were a kid?” Dov liked Nico, respected him,
admired him even, but damn, all-business-all-the-time was
borrrring. “Try it. Just once. I dare you.”
    Nico shrugged once, looked back over his
shoulder to make sure no one was watching, took a few quick steps
and slid. The smooth soles of his Italian leather boots were
perfect for the sport and he sped by Dov’s lamppost. The