“I was twelve.”
“Did he . . .” Abigail bit her lip. “Were you . . .”
“Raped?” Rowan shook her head. “No. Kellen came home, and she came to her senses I guess because she kicked the bastard out.”
“She must have felt awful.”
“I don’t know what she felt, and I don’t care. I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
Abigail nodded. “Okay. Let’s talk about the hot dude you were patrolling with.”
Rowan had forgotten how irritating Abigail could be. “I don’t want to talk about him either.”
Rowan bent and slipped into a pair of running shoes, tying her hair back into a damp ponytail. Maybe a run would do her good.
“So, who are these guys?”
“What guys?”
“The hot guys.”
“My God,” Rowan said, exasperated. “What is this, twenty questions?” She shook her head. “They’re friends . . . of Nana’s.”
But are they?
Abigail stood up, and they both ignored the irritated wail from the tabby. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s awesome that they’re here to help us, and Lord knows they’re freaking easy on the eyes. Hell, Vicki is falling all over herself trying to get at least one of them into bed. She nearly had a fit when that Nico guy growled at her like an animal, but . . .”
“But what?”
“What do we really know about them other than the fact they’re otherworld?”
Rowan stared at her cousin in silence. As a lawyer, she was always prepared. She researched and knew her cases from every angle possible. So why now, when she was involved in the most important fight of her life, was she clueless?
She glanced out the window and spied Nico with Hannah. The scent of sweet tobacco wafted in the air, and she knew that Priest was nearby.
“You’re right.”
“I am?” Abigail said warily.
Rowan nodded. “I think it’s time I get some answers of my own.”
She found Priest in the back garden, tending to the overgrown sunflowers that bloomed in a huge cluster along edge. He’d doffed his shirt, and Rowan watched him work for a few moments, enjoying the view.
He really was impressive. His shoulders were wide, his chest and arms muscular without being over the top. An intricate cross was tattooed across his left pectoral, the design interesting though the colors were muted, as if it was old.
With his dark hair and chiseled features he was one hell of a man; except she knew that was false. He was not your average everyday man. So what was he?
“You going to stand there all day or offer to help?”
His voice startled her, and Rowan nearly tripped over her feet as she picked her way through the leaves that had been raked into several huge piles along the path.
“Grab that, will you?” He pointed to a large garbage bag, and she held it open while he stuffed the refuse he’d trimmed from the tall plants. “I miss this.”
“This?”
“Working with nature. Using my hands for something other
than killing otherworld filth.”