“I seem to remember you had a slight problem with it,” I said.
That was putting it mildly. Derek and I had met when Abraham died. Derek had pointed a gun at me and accused me of killing Abraham and stealing a priceless book, and I’d fainted right in front of him. He’d been unmoved, apparently, and had slapped me a few too many times trying to revive me. I hadn’t appreciated it. It was the beginning of our beautiful friendship.
“Maybe I should find a washcloth for her forehead,” I said.
“She’ll come around when she’s ready.”
“Did she hit her head on anything?”
“No.” Derek turned his attention to me. “How are you doing?”
I flexed my fingers and massaged my knuckles. “Great. That’s been a long time coming. You should’ve let me pummel the wicked witch.”
He grabbed my hand and examined it. “I would have, but she fights dirty. I was afraid she’d mar your pretty face.”
With a sigh, I said, “I don’t suppose MacLeod heard what I said out there.”
He pursed his lips. “You mean the part where you begged me to let you kill Minka?”
I closed my eyes, nodded. “Yeah, that part.”
He chuckled. “I believe everyone in the room heard it.”
“Oh, swell.”
“If it’s any consolation, the bookies had you at four-to-one odds.”
“Did you have money on me?”
“Of course, and you held the crowd’s sympathies, as well.”
“That counts for something.”
“Bet your ass,” he said, then tugged me closer. “Now tell me where it hurts.”
“Everywhere,” I whispered.
He kissed my cheek and moved his lips to my ear. “Much better,” I said, sighing.
“Wild women fighting,” he murmured in disapproval. “Half the men were drooling over the prospect of watching a real live catfight. I thought I might have to battle some of them, as well.”
“My hero.” I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck as he ran his lips along my jaw.
“Hey, there y’all are!”
That voice. I knew that voice.
“Oh, Christ,” Derek muttered. “I don’t believe it.”
He pushed away in time for me to be swooped up in a hug so tight, I nearly swooned.
“Oh, sweet Mother of God.” I gasped.
“That’s right, baby girl,” my mother said. “Look out, Scotland, here come the Wainwrights!”
Chapter 7
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“Came to see you, of course!” She hugged me again and her pretty blond ponytail bobbed with excitement. “Are you surprised?”
“Surprised?” That was an understatement. I’d been expecting Robin, but not in a million years had I expected to see my parents.
“Surprised and happy,” I said, glancing from my petite, perky mom to my friend Robin and my tall, thin, handsome dad. “Really happy.”
“Good to see you, Jim,” Derek said to my dad.
I watched in bewilderment as Dad vigorously shook Derek’s hand several different ways, ending with a fist bump. Derek seemed amused as he played along. Me, not so much. Oh, I was glad to see Mom and Dad, but things were just about to get interesting with Derek and-
“We wanted to surprise you!” Mom said. “We were packing for Paris when I got a message from Romlar X saying the northern lights are rocking right now.”
“A message?” I said, confused. “Romlar’s using e-mail now?”
“Oh, sweetie.” She patted my cheek as if I were a really sharp five-year-old. “Rom’s all telepathic, all the time.”
“I knew that.” Or did I? Romlar X was Mom’s astral guide. I thought he lived in another solar system. Who the hell knew how they communicated back and forth?
“We talked it over with Robson and he agreed this would be the best place to go for our anniversary trip,” Dad said, pushing his glasses up. “Especially when he heard we’d be surprising you.”
“Really?”
Mom nodded. “Robson said you could use a nice surprise or two.”
“He has no idea,” I murmured.
“Yes, he does,” Dad said, eyeing me with concern.
Robson Benedict was the leader of the Fellowship for Spiritual Enlightenment and Higher Artistic Consciousness, the commune where my parents had raised me and my five siblings. Guru Bob, as we called him, was the highly evolved being my parents called teacher, avatar and friend.
Years ago, along with several hundred followers, my folks had followed Guru Bob to the hills of Sonoma County, where they’d bought up several thousand acres of lush fields before the wine country craze drove prices into the stratosphere. A few years ago, our business-savvy commune had incorporated, and now our formerly humble hillside home was a thriving, sophisticated wine-country destination. We’d named our small town Dharma.
“So that’s when we contacted our favorite travel maven.” Mom reached over and squeezed Robin’s arm. “She was able to trade in our Paris reservations for a Scottish Highlands adventure quest.”