Sighing, Dante gave her a smoldering look, and then turned to carry his portion of her clothes to the front of the store.
Mary watched him go with amusement, and then headed to the intimate apparel section of the store. Without Francis there fussing, she was much quicker at picking things. Some white panties and bras, some flesh colored, a couple strapless, and then some sexy sets purely for Dante's appreciation. Mary picked up some fishnet stockings too, purely for the bedroom. She was not going to actually wear them out of the air-conditioned hotel room. It was too hot in Venezuela for that, she was sure.
Having grabbed everything she thought she might need, Mary headed for the front of the store, surprised to see that the men were just leaving with about a dozen bulging bags of her clothes. She almost picked up speed and called out to them, but then caught herself and slowed instead, making sure they were out of the store before she neared the front.
The cashier was very friendly and helpful when Mary set her purchases on the counter and mentioned that Lucian Argeneau had left his credit card for her. She immediately called a second woman to the front so that she could fold and bag each item as it was rung up. Mary was out of there so quickly she thought she would probably catch up to the men if she moved quickly enough, so she didn't.
Mary didn't want to catch up to the men. She wanted to do something she knew none of them would approve of, and didn't want interference. She glanced in the direction the men had headed as she slipped out of the store. Reassured that none of them were looking her way, she then headed in the opposite direction, in search of the nearest exit.
"I still think I should have stayed behind with Mary," Dante grumbled as they headed toward the exit nearest to the parking garage where they'd left the SUV.
"She will be fine, Dante," Lucian said grimly. "Let it--" He paused and sighed as music began to play on his person.
Dante raised his eyebrows, recognizing the tune as a song that had seemed to play quite frequently for a while. He thought it was called "Happy," but instead of singing "Because I'm happy," Lucian's back pocket was singing, "Because I'm tacky."
"It is Weird Al Yankovich, not Pharrell Williams," Francis told Dante as if that should explain everything.
"Leigh annoyed with you again?" Russell asked with amusement.
"Obviously," Lucian growled as he plucked his phone from his pocket.
"Lucian's wife, Leigh, puts rather interesting ringtones on his phone when she is annoyed with him," Francis explained to Dante, his lips twitching with amusement as the phone crooned, "Because I'm Tacky, wear my belt with suspenders and sandals with my socks."
"I am guessing," Russell said when Lucian merely peered at the phone face without answering, "That her irritation is because you will not let her go to Venezuela with you?"
"Yes," he snapped. "Although to me her anger is completely unreasonable. She should be glad that I want her and the twins nowhere near the bastards who have been kidnapping immortals."
"Because I'm Tacky," the phone began again and he answered it impatiently and said, "I will call you right back, Derby."
He hung up so quickly. There was no way this Derby could have responded, and then he turned to the men and said, "Take the bags to the car. I have something to do. I will meet you in the food court."
Lucian didn't wait for agreement, but turned his back to them and began punching at his phone.
"Why does he not just change the ringtone?" Dante asked curiously as they watched Lucian press the phone to his ear as he walked away.
"Because he does not know how," Francis said with amusement.
"He knows how," Russell said with certainty.
"Really?" Francis asked with amazement.
"Oh, yeah," Russell assured him. "I showed him."
"But then why does he not change it?" Francis asked with disbelief.
"For the same reason I wear salmon colored T-shirts on occasion," Russell said dryly. "Because he loves his life mate."
Dante bit back a smile at Francis's expression at this news. The man looked like he was going to swoon.
"Come on," Russell said affectionately. "I am thirsty and the sooner we get all this stuff in the car, the sooner we can get to the food court and get something to drink."
They started moving again then, but after a couple of steps, Francis said, "I wonder what Lucian is up to?"
"What do you mean?" Dante asked absently as they negotiated the shoppers everywhere.
"Well, he had the two new guys, Derby and Hulkboy follow us into the city in an SUV. They followed us around the Eaton Center while we shopped."
"Are you sure?" Russell asked, slowing to glance around at his partner.
"Yes. I saw them loitering outside the stores we were in," Francis assured him and when Russell started to look around, he said, "Oh, they stayed by the store when we left Mary there."
Dante slowed now, glancing back the way they'd come.
"That explains why Lucian was not worried about Mary," Russell said quietly. "He has babysitters watching her."
"Yes, but why?" Dante asked grimly.
When both men remained silent, he started back the way they'd come.
"Dante, wait!" Russell called, hurrying after him, and when he didn't even slow, added, "At least give me the damned bags so Francis and I can put them in the car."
Dante did pause then, just long enough to pass over the bags he carried and mutter, "Thanks," before heading off again at almost a run. It didn't take him long to reach the store where they'd left Mary. Hurrying inside, he spotted the cashier who had checked them out and didn't even bother to ask questions, but simply slid into her mind to learn that Mary had already checked out.
Cursing, he whirled and rushed back out of the store, only to come to an abrupt halt in front of it as he realized he had no idea where to look for her.
Mary paused outside the bank, fussed nervously with her hair, and then took a deep breath and entered. It was a large open space with the tellers at a counter along the right side and a row of offices along the left. There was also a receptionist's counter directly in front of her and Mary approached it and smiled tentatively at the woman waiting there.
"Hello. Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, returning her smile.
"Yes, I was hoping to see one of your loan officers," Mary said nervously, and then added, "Jane Winslow Mullins." Her daughter, Janie, had kept her maiden name when she'd married, merely adding her husband's last name to it.
"Your name?" the receptionist asked.
Mary hesitated. She couldn't say Mary Winslow. While she wanted to talk to her daughter, she had to be careful about who knew what. Finally, she said, "Alice Bonher."
She had an Aunt named Alice. Bonher, of course was her maiden name, and the moment she said it, she worried she maybe shouldn't have.
"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked as she wrote her name on a slip of paper.
Mary frowned. She hadn't considered that problem. Biting her lip, she glanced toward the offices along the wall, and then peered back at the woman. After a hesitation during which she considered trying some of the mind control business on the woman, Mary sighed and shook her head. She had no idea how to control minds, so there wasn't much use. "No. I don't."
"I'll see if she is available," the woman said politely, and started tapping numbers on her phone as she asked, "It's about a loan?"
"Yes," Mary lied and then simply waited, her gaze sliding over the offices again in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her daughter. She was almost hungry for the sight. Her little girl. A kaleidoscope of memories slid through her mind. Janie as a baby, a toddler, taking her first steps. She was a grown woman now, in her thirties, with two daughters and a husband, but she would always be Mary's baby.
"She has a few minutes."
Mary swung back to the receptionist at that announcement to see that she'd stood and was gesturing for her to follow as she moved out from behind the reception counter and headed for
one of the offices. Mary followed quickly, incredibly nervous at the thought of seeing Jane . . . which was ridiculous. She was her mother.
"Here you are," The receptionist said, leading her into a small but tidy office. The girl handed the slip of paper to Jane and then left the room.
Mary noted that she'd left the door open and considered closing it, but then left it and turned to peer at her daughter. She was a pretty girl, her dark hair framing a round face with bright green eyes. They looked nothing alike, but that had never mattered to Mary.
Janie smiled at her politely and gestured to one of the two chairs in front of her desk, "Please, sit, Ms. . . ." She paused to glance down at the slip of paper the receptionist had given her and Mary's smile faded. Janie hadn't recognized her of course. But then she looked totally different, she reminded herself. Still, she'd hoped . . .
What? Mary asked herself dryly. You thought your daughter would recognize some twenty-five-year-old-looking gal as her sixty-two-year-old mom? Dream on. And what are you even doing here? Mary asked herself. She couldn't turn her daughter, couldn't explain about nanos and immortals and whatnot. What had she hoped to gain from coming here to see her?
"Alice Bonher."
Mary glanced up to see that Jane was reading the name from the slip of paper the receptionist had given her.
Jane smiled crookedly. "That was my mother's maiden name. Small world, huh?" she commented with a smile as she took her seat.
Mary tilted her head slightly. "That was your mother's maiden name?"
"Yes. She died last week when her RV crashed and exploded."
Mary blinked at the bald announcement, and then realizing she should respond, murmured, "I see."
But she didn't see at all. Well, she did see a bit. Obviously Lucian or one of his men had done some mind-control nonsense and made everyone believe that she'd died in the RV crash, which was handy and even sensible. What she didn't understand was how her daughter could talk about her death with so little emotion. There was no grief, no sense of loss at all. She'd used the same tone Mary would have used to say she'd visited friends last week.
She frowned over that and was starting to grow upset when it occurred to her to wonder if this too wasn't Lucian's work. Could they have done something to Janie to make her accept the death more readily?
Mary glanced to her daughter, and seeing her questioning look, cleared her throat, and asked, "Was the funeral nice?"
"Oh, there was no funeral. There was no body. She burned up in the fire. They couldn't even separate her ashes from the ashes of the RV." Jane sighed and then admitted, "We're considering buying a plot, putting up a tombstone and holding a funeral ceremony, but it will have to wait until I go to Winnipeg next month."
"Next month?" Mary asked with dismay.
"Well, there was no sense rushing off to have it right away. We don't have a body, and the ceremony is only for myself and my brother and our families."
"That's it?" Mary asked, appalled. "What about her friends? Surely they would want to attend?"
"Yes, but they all kind of abandoned her when Dad died. I think the other women were nervous of having a newly widowed woman around their husbands. Mom was a good-looking woman, young for her age and witty."
"Oh," Mary sat back and smiled slightly at the comment. She'd never really seen herself that way. It was nice to know her daughter did.
"It's probably better she died anyway."
Mary blinked and stared at her with horror. "What? Why?"
"Because Dad was her whole life. She was terribly lonely when he died. I'd hate to think of her sitting alone and miserable in some little apartment in Winnipeg with no friends or anything."
Since that had been the future she'd foreseen for herself, Mary shouldn't have been upset at her daughter's envisioning it that way too, but she was. Scowling, she said with irritation, "Maybe she would have made new friends, or found a boyfriend."
"No way," Jane said emphatically, and then grimaced and said, "I have a friend whose mother did that. Started dating and acting ridiculous after her husband died. She wears clothes much too young for her: tight jeans and low-cut blouses."
Mary glanced down at the jeans and T-shirt she'd chosen from the storage room. The jeans were a bit snug, and the neckline was a scoop. She tugged at the neckline to cover the bit of bra that was peaking over the top.
"And she's dating men ten and even twenty years younger than her. The woman's acting like a hormone riddled teenager instead of the grandmother she is."
Mary bit her lip, an image of Dante rising in her mind. He didn't look a day over twenty-five. And hormone riddled was probably a good description of how they had both been acting even before he'd turned her.
"She's even buying condoms and having sex with these men," Jane said with disgust. "At sixty! Can you imagine? I mean there comes a time when you just have to hang up your dancing shoes, you know?"
"Hmm." Mary muttered and wondered when her daughter had become so prudish. People over sixty had every right to have sex, for heaven's sake. Hell, at least they didn't have to worry about birth control . . . usually, she added grimly.
"My mom was much too sensible to go in for that nonsense."
Mary squirmed in her seat.
"Jane? The Dresdens are here for their appointment."
Mary jerked around in her seat to peer at the speaker, but the woman was already walking away. She stared after her silently, her mind suddenly racing as memories began flooding her thoughts.
"I'm sorry. I forgot about the Dresdens," Jane said with a frown, glancing at the clock. "We could book an appointment for later. I have an opening in an hour."
Mary stared at her silently, debating coming back later, but why bother? She couldn't tell her who she was. Jane wouldn't believe it. And she couldn't explain about nanos or immortals, and she couldn't turn her either. Really, she shouldn't have come here at all.
"No," she said finally, getting to her feet. "I think I've changed my mind."
"Oh," Jane frowned slightly, but stood as well. "If you're sure?"
"Yes," Mary said solemnly. "My condolences on your loss."
"Thank you," Jane murmured, but an odd look came over her face as she watched her slide out from between the desk and the chair, and Mary turned quickly away, afraid she actually might recognize her after all.
That anxiety plaguing her, Mary walked quickly out of her daughter's office and slam bang right into a wide chest.
"Sorry," Mary muttered, glancing up, then froze as she recognized Lucian Argeneau. Staring at him wide-eyed, she swallowed guiltily. "I didn't--"
"I know," Lucian said simply, then stepped to the side and gestured for her to lead the way. When she started walking, he immediately fell into step beside her.
"Thank you," he said as they walked toward the exit.
Mary paused and glanced at him with surprise, and then asked warily, "For what?"
Stepping in front of her, he bowed his head and said softly, "For not making me wipe your daughter's memory, and crush Dante's heart by having to kill you."
Mary stiffened, then pushed past him and strode out onto the sidewalk, aware that he was on her heels. Her mind was suddenly buzzing, first with questions, and then with answers. The Eaton Center was in downtown Toronto. The Enforcer House was outside Toronto. It had been a hell of a drive to get here, and she'd been surprised they'd bothered when there were so many malls closer to the house. Now she thought she understood.
"You picked the mall," she guessed grimly.
"Yes," Lucian admitted.
"You somehow knew where my daughter works and picked this mall because it was nearby."
"Yes."
"You did it deliberately, to test me," she said bitterly.
"Yes."
Mary stopped abruptly and scowled at him. "That was a cheap trick."
"Yes," he said again, completely unapologetic.
She glowered at him briefly, and then bowed her head and muttered, "I'm sorr
y I failed your test."
"You did not fail. You did not tell her," he pointed out.
Mary let her breath out on a sigh, and then lifted her head. Eyeing him curiously, she asked, "Would you really have killed me had I told her?"
"Yes."
Mary nodded slowly and then turned to start walking again, but after several steps she commented, "It must be hard."
"What?" he asked with mild interest, keeping pace with her.
"Being the asshole that gets stuck with the shit jobs to protect his people," she said solemnly and noted that he inclined his head as if to acknowledge that he was that asshole.
"Someone has to do it," he said simply.
"And that someone is you."
"Yes."
Mary merely nodded. There was really nothing else to do or say.
They entered the Eaton Center through the same doors she'd exited from earlier, and moved at a quick clip toward the food court. They were still a good distance away, though, when Mary heard someone call her name. Slowing, she glanced around, and then paused as she saw Dante rushing toward them.
"Are you all right?" he asked, taking her by the upper arms as he reached them. His gaze slid over her as if looking for gaping wounds.
Managing a smile, Mary nodded her head. "Yes, of course. I'm fine," she whispered, and then leaned up to kiss him gently on the cheek.
"Where were you?" Dante asked as she lowered back to stand flat on her feet again. "I checked the store where we left you, but you were not there and then I looked everywhere for you, but--"
"She got lost." Lucian interrupted him blandly.
"Oh." Dante stared at Lucian for a moment, and then shifted his gaze to Mary, and she knew he didn't believe Lucian, but all he said was, "I was worried."
"Yes, yes," Lucian said impatiently. "She was lost, you were worried, now she is found and all is well. Now, go on and kiss her so we can get out of this blasted mall."
Mary tipped her head up to Dante and grinned. "You heard the man. Kiss me."
Dante chuckled softly and then lowered his head to do just that. But it was no, hi-I'm-happy-to-see-you buss, it was a full on, God-I-am-SO-happy-to-see-you-and-just-wish-you-were-naked-and-spread-eagled-on-the-floor smackeroo.
"Lord save me from new life mates," Lucian muttered with disgust and then cursed as Weird Al Yankovich's "Tacky" began to play somewhere nearby. For some reason that made Dante laugh, Mary noted, as he broke their kiss. She peered at him with bewilderment for a moment, and then realizing that Lucian was moving away, called, "Lucian?"