Ghosts of Averoigne

But she’d never seen Xiomara this anxious to get her out of her office.

“So about your partner…”

Here it comes.

“Remember, you’re a grown woman, LoPresti.”

Kara growled.

“You’re well past being coddled. The whole ‘impetuous youth’ thing has worn off for you long ago, so—”

“Who is it?”

“—I don’t want to hear any whiny bullshit about you being uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable?

“You’re going to lecture me about comfort?” Kara scoffed. “You sure seem comfortable enough sitting here in front of a warm fire, in your cashmere kaftan. Indulging in—”

Xiomara stood up. As always she wore one of the colorful tribal robes of her West African heritage. Today’s was a spectacular green and blue.

“Fuck you Kara,” the woman snapped. “You get to be my age, and chafing becomes your biggest enemy.” Her robe fluttered around her tiny wrists. “And believe me, I’ll indulge in whatever the fuck I want.”

Kara couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. Xiomara was not as amused.

“In fact—”

A door opened behind her. Kara spun around in her chair, just in time to see a tall figure step into the room.

“Oh hell no.”

Two

The visitor looked like he’d just arrived from outside. He sported a fur-lined coat wrapped in leather, and a pair of thick, rawhide gloves. He was tall and imposing. Rugged and chiseled. His cargo khakis, stained but not dirty, were held up by a large belt buckle of oiled brass.

“Mr. Rhodes,” said Xiomara. “It’s about fucking time you arrived. Welcome back. Now get the hell over here.”

The man’s great brown boots clapped along the manor’s timeworn floor as he made his way over. He walked with a swagger and arrogance that most would mistake for an air of cool confidence. But Kara knew better.

“Say hello to Ms. LoPresti.”

The man grinned devilishly. “Hello Ms. LoPre—”

“Fuck you Logan.”

He looked good. Better than good, actually. His face was almost exactly as she remembered it; handsome but not pretty, with thick eyebrows and full, come-kiss-me lips. He was taller than she remembered him. Broader too, though she imagined he might’ve filled out some over the last six years.

Six years! Has it really been that long?

Yes, she supposed it had. She was nineteen when they’d met, and on her very first assignment with the Order. Kara had been so optimistically unjaded back then, so overly eager to please. And she’d fallen hard for him. Very hard.

Too hard.

Logan was her superior, and that alone was bad, but he was also five years her senior. The whole thing was stupid and she knew it, even then. But she’d done it anyway. She did lots of things anyway.

“Did you feed her yet?” Logan was asking Xiomara. He sank heavily into the chair next to Kara. “Because she gets cranky when she’s hungry.”

“Shut up Rhodes,” the old woman snarled. “Jesus Christ, a half-minute in and you’re both acting like ten-year olds already. Do I need to send a babysitter along with the two of you?”