3
Friday afternoon:
Katy walked across the gangway with a sigh of relief, the wash of early summer heat a welcome, soothing embrace after her mad dash home to grab Emily’s things, followed by a very long flight. Glancing between the weary travelers walking off the airplane with sloped shoulders and puffy eyes to the small crowd of people waiting just on the other side of the gangway, fresh and eager to board, drove home just how exhausted she really was.
Someone was supposed to meet her here. Or rather, meet Emily. Not knowing what to expect, Katy had taken the time to freshen up before landing with a quick swipe of clear lip gloss and a careful sweep of the mascara she always kept tucked in her small purse. Thankfully that was all the primping she needed, her skin naturally smooth and clear. Her long hair was another matter altogether. She could already feel stray curls escaping from the artfully sloppy bun she’d arranged on top of her head. Her thick, heavy hair had a mind of its own on good days and a bad attitude on all the others.
With little time to spare trying not to miss her flight, Katy had chosen not to exchange the long navy-blue skirt and cream-colored blouse she’d worn to work. She assumed whomever she was meeting would take her more seriously in her work clothing than in a pair of comfy yoga pants and a T-shirt. Emily had warned her these were serious people. Old money. Castles. Millions, maybe even billions of dollars tucked away in trust funds and investment accounts.
Old-fashioned, she’d said. And that kind of family would not appreciate athletic wear and sandals for a business meeting. Even if she had just gotten off an airplane.
Again a nagging worry crept into her thoughts. Exactly what had Em packed for this trip? They may be physically identical but their idea of fashion didn’t always mesh. Emily, when not wearing scrubs, was the epitome of flamboyant styles and bright colors, whereas Katy’s closet was a study in sensible, professional blues, beiges and coordinated business suits. The few fun items she did own seemed to always end up in Emily’s wardrobe. Katy whispered a plea to no one in particular that at least a few of her things had ended up accompanying her on this adventure.
Surely one of those four gigantic bags I checked in at the airport will be full of shoes?That was the one thing they both agreed on. Shoes make the world a better place and whomever has the most wins.
Glancing down as she smoothed a hand over the wrinkles in her skirt, she nearly collided with a very large man. “Oh! I’m so sorry. Pardon me. Er… Mi scusi?”
Where had they come from? How did she not notice them before?
“Buonasera, Signorina Toure. We welcome you back to Italy.”
Shit. They’re here for me? ALL of them?
Katy took a moment to look the group over. Four men, each the size of a tank. Even in expensive suits they looked like spies or military with bulging muscles, short hair, and dark sunglasses. All of them. The two women were nearly as tall and drop-dead gorgeous.
Genetics were so unfair. She’s always wanted to be a Mediterranean beauty. And the men…the men were stunning. Powerful. And the one who had spoken to her had shocking silver hair. Through his dark lenses she could see that his eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald. They didn’t look real. Was he wearing contacts?
“Is there a problem, Signorina Toure? Are you unwell?”
Crap. She was staring. Problem? There was a problem. But she didn’t dare say they were the problem; they were scary big, brooding, and gorgeous.
She shivered with sudden apprehension.
Not mafia. Please, Emily, not mafia.
Katy took a deep, slow breath and pasted on her best fake smile. Calm down. Don’t overreact. You can do this.
All she had to do was remember the rules for successful twin swapping. If someone makes a comment or asks a question Emily would understand but Katy did not, she would throw out a fact or two about herself instead. Always speak the truth so she wouldn’t have to remember any lies that might trip her up later. Last resort? Distraction.
“Buonasera, signor. I am well. Thank you. I mean grazie.” Katy forced herself to relax, releasing much of the tension between her shoulders. Emily had said these people were legit, so Katy needed to give them the benefit of the doubt. “I’m afraid my Italian is terrible. Thank you for meeting me at the gate. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble getting past security?”
The silver-haired man tucked a placard with Emily’s name on it into the inner pocket of his suit, gave a half smile and the tiniest of nods. “Airport security is never a problem. We have an arrangement. I am best known by the name Vector, and these”—he pointed to his companions from left to right—“are the triplets Mist, Frost, and Fury. Blade and Ash are cousins. If you would give your carry-ons and baggage claim ticket to Fury, he and Frost will collect your luggage while the rest of us escort you to the car.”
Ash? Fury? Blade? No one has names like that. Obviously not real. Maybe military call signs? Well, maybe Ash and Mist are real names. Ash might be short for Ashley. And Mist, well, that’s a pretty name. Frost could be short for Jack Frost. That guy is seriously lacking in the melanin department. But Fury? Blade? No way. They look like they could chew nails for breakfast. Good looks and expensive clothes can’t hide that kind of tough.Katy shifted from one foot to the other to relieve the pain in her aching feet.
“Baggage claim. Right.” Katy rummaged in her purse for the ticket, handing it over to Fury with an Emily-style grin full of good humor and mischief. “I hate that part of traveling, don’t you? If you don’t mind, I’ll hold on to the one bag. It has all my documents in it.” She patted her smallest carry-on containing Emily’s passport, tickets, and a few essentials.
Fury scowled, completely unmoved. “Our only priority is your safety. Any luggage kept with you could become a liability in an emergency, putting all of us in danger. Better to give it to me than lose it.”
Katy clutched her bag closer to her chest. An emergency? What kind of emergency, exactly? And why did Emily need so many escorts? Surely one driver with a car should have been enough?
Confidence rattled, her smile faltered. They all looked dangerous, but Fury looked like the type of man holding back his rage by the thinnest thread.
“Don’t mind my brother, Signorina Toure,” said Mist with a smile as she stepped in front of Fury, jabbing him in the stomach. “He’s always like that. I think he’s still bitter about being the youngest. Of course you may keep whatever you wish. We are your guardians, not your wardens.”
Guardians? What the hell did Emily get herself into?Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Her heartbeat slowed a fraction as she straightened her shoulders. She was quiet, perhaps, but not a pushover. “My guardians? I assure you, I am in no need of babysitters. I can take care…”
Fury snarled through gritted teeth, “We’re not babysitters. We’re Guardians. The most lethal…”