Gale Force

loaded up with pleasure-seeking, bikini-wearing sunbathers, all one tequila short of a Girls Gone Wild video. He turned off the engine, and we sat for a while watching the waves crash and roll, and the tanners sizzle and flirt.

“I need my cell phone,” I said. David . . . flickered. Like a bad signal, or a hologram. And then he reached in his coat pocket and handed over my cell phone, which I knew perfectly well I’d left back on the table in the apartment. “Hey. Don’t do that, okay?”

He looked puzzled. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t go back there. Promise me.”

“Why?”

I swear, when I closed my eyes, I saw red. I counted to ten, deliberately, and tried to pry my fingernails out of my palms. “Because even if you don’t believe it’s there, that stuff is toxic to me, and it could be fatal to you. All right?”

He shook his head. “There’s no danger. If there was, I’d know.”

Which was just crazy. But he earnestly seemed to think he was telling me the truth.

I took the cell phone and called Lewis. “Where are you?”

“Just got here,” he said. I heard his breath huffing; he and what sounded like an elephant herd of people were jogging up the stairs. “Okay, I see it. Box in front of the door.”

“That’s it,” I said. “Be careful.”

“I’m not going anywhere near it, trust me. We’re using a bomb robot.”

“We’ve got bomb robots now? Cool.”

“It’s on loan from Homeland Security,” Lewis said. “They’re not going to like it if I get it blown up, though. I’ll call you back.”

Homeland Security was loaning us gear? Wow. When had we actually come up in the world like that? Apparently, while I’d been unconscious in a hospital bed for something or other, or on the run. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. Part of the reason the Wardens had existed for so long in secrecy had been the low profile. The more we “cooperated” with other governmental agencies, the more likely it was that we’d get attention, and any attention was bad.

I remembered the reporters, and shivered. They had a job to do, and although they’d grant me some sick time, they’d be back.

“Let’s change the subject,” David said. “The wedding. Where do you want to have it? At the chapel?”

There was only one chapel for us—Imara’s home, the Chapel of the Holy Cross. I nodded slowly. “But we’d have to have it in secret,” I said. “After hours. They don’t do official weddings there.”

“I could work it out,” he said. I was sure that was true, actually. “It won’t hold too many.”

“Small ceremony,” I said. “Big reception. It works.”

He nodded, staring straight ahead into the rolling surf, the eternal sky. “Are you all right?”

“Me? Sure.” I dredged up a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be? Just because some crazy is sending me antimatter through the mail . . .”

“We changed the subject,” he reminded me gently. “If you’re worried about the wedding, you can still change your mind.”

I draped an elbow over my seat and curled around to face him, resting my chin on my forearm. “I really don’t think I can,” I said. “And I really don’t think I want to.” I felt a cold breath of . . . something. “Unless . . . you’re having doubts about us—”

“No,” David said immediately. “I’m just concerned for you. You seem . . . unreasonably upset. I just can’t understand how you can be so convinced and upset about something that has no evidence.”

Well, that was rich. He thought I was crazy. “David,” I said, “we’re not going to convince each other on this stuff. Are we?”

He shook his head ruefully.

“Then let’s stop trying.” I reached out. He took my hand, and some of the fluttering in my stomach quieted. “So if we can have only twenty people at the ceremony, who are we picking?”

He smiled. “You go first.”

“All right. One name at a time.” I took a deep breath. “Cherise.” Safe. He nodded.

“Lewis,” he said, which surprised me, but I supposed it shouldn’t have. He and Lewis had known each other long before I ever set eyes on David.

“Um—Paul.”

“Rahel.” He gave me a quick, apologetic smile. “I can hardly leave her out of the invitation. She’d only show up if we didn’t invite her.”

She would, just to be a pain in the ass. Djinn. What can you do? “Fine,” I said. “How many is that?”

“Counting us? Six.” He studied me for a second, eyes going gentle again. “Seven with a minister. Do you want to invite your sister?”

“Oh hell no,” I said. “Psycho sister Sarah is not welcome. She’s caused me plenty of trouble without this. I’ll go with . . . Venna.”

David’s eyebrows twitched, either in surprise or amusement, or maybe some of both. Venna was a Djinn, but she was on Ashan’s side of the fence; she’d done both of us favors, but as with most Djinn, I couldn’t peg her as good or bad, really. Still, she was always . . . interesting. “She might attend,” he said. “It might interest her. But she wouldn’t come alone.”

“You are not inviting Ashan.”

That got an actual laugh. “It would be politically wise.”

“And personally stupid because if I see him again, I swear I’ll rip off whatever passes for his—”

He kissed me. It was meant to be a shut-me-up kiss, quick and sweet, but it turned warmer, richer, and I melted against him like chocolate on a hot plate. “I’m asking Ashan,” he said when he let me up for breath. “And you’re going to play nice if he shows up. Which he won’t. But it will be wise to ask him.”

I made a noise that brides-to-be probably shouldn’t make, according to Miss Manners. He kissed me again.

We had so much to talk about—flowers, cakes, catering, dresses, tuxedos. . . . We didn’t talk about any of it. Instead, David pressed his lips to the pulse at my neck and murmured, “I’m bored with planning the wedding. Let’s plan the honeymoon. Better yet, let’s rehearse.”

I’d been recovering for weeks, and my libido had taken a serious beating along with my body, but when he said that, I felt a fast, hot flush of desire. Aside from some gentle play, he’d been careful with me, knowing I was fragile.

Now he sent waves of energy flowing into me, curing the lingering aches and exhaustion, and I caught my breath in true, deep pleasure.

“Right here?” I asked. “In the car?”

“I think I said before, the seats do recline.” Being a Djinn, he didn’t even have to crook a finger to make it happen. My seat slipped back, nearly level, and I made a sound low in my throat as his warm hands moved over me, sliding the strap of my top down my arm, folding back fabric. . . .

“Wait,” I said, and sat up again. “There’s a motel half a mile back.”

He looked surprised, and a little disappointed. I kissed him again.

“I’m not saying no,” I promised. “I’m saying . . . I want lots of time, and a bed. If it’s a rehearsal, let’s make it a full undress rehearsal.”

“Oh,” David murmured. “That’s all right, then.”

Chapter Five

The rain hit while we were lying twined together, sweaty and completely satisfied, on the motel bed. It was a nice motel, nothing sleazy, and the rooms were actually quite lovely. Big ocean views. We’d drawn the curtains,