Free Lucidity by Raine Weaver Page A

clutching a pack of pink marshmallow peeps to her chest. “Omigod, I’m sorry. Sam was just gonna cover Carly’s eyes while I yelled ‘surprise’. She was the last person I expected to see here. Please don’t throttle him. Honestly, we didn’t mean any harm.”
    It was the stunned expression on the girl’s flower-fragile face that finally got through to him. The modern-day Betty Boop, with pouting cherry lips and short, onyx curls, looked like a child who’d stumbled upon the Easter Bunny masturbating.
    Relenting, Parker allowed the thin body in his arms to slide bonelessly to the floor as she watched. “Sorry,” he muttered, not sure he was sorry at all. “I thought he was going to hurt her. Didn’t mean to make a scene.”
    Violet turned wide plum-colored eyes to her friend. “Wow. I think I’ve been shopping in the wrong places. Carly?” she breathed, sounding very impressed. “Does he belong to you ?”

Chapter Eight
    Violet served her guests green tea with a twist of lemon and barely a dribble of honey. She made no secret of the smirks directed at her boyfriend, who sat on the floor, a safe distance from Parker, liberally spiking his tea with whiskey. “I may be having second thoughts, Sam. I didn’t know what I was missing by refusing to have a bodyguard.”
    “If the crushing of windpipes and near wetting of pants is a turn-on for you, I’m glad I was available, doll.”
    Carly liked these people. Not only because they were so down-to-earth and as much fun as she remembered, but because of how they’d handled the drama at the store. This was, apparently, Violet’s hometown, and she knew everybody . She had no trouble convincing the manager that Parker was her unstable cousin from Arkansas. Sadly, he’d gone off his meds and reacted violently when Sam tried to keep him from his favorite pastime—displaying his wee willy in a public place.
    Dear Mr. Rucker had been very kind. Especially when the magic credit card appeared to pay for any damage, plus a hefty tip.
    Carlotta was not, however, very happy with Parker. She might’ve been sympathetic, since the three of them had spent the past hour sharing pleasant memories from Stanford, and he was obviously an outsider. And yes, she understood he’d been protecting her, even if his all-encompassing rage had frightened her a little. He was her guardian, even if it meant being a menace to society.
    But his brooding demeanor and the way he kept a wary eye on Sam, even here, in the comfort of Violet’s petite loft, left her simmering with resentment.
    Carly loved the old, faded furniture, the garage-sale tables waxed to a high shine, and the oval eye of a window that made Belvyn look like a microcosm of the whole world. She thought she could sit here for hours, just watching people interact as if nothing was wrong.
    Instead, she was sitting across from Parker and feeling very guilty about the ruckus she’d caused, just for a taste of freedom.
    “I have to work a late shift tonight, but I hope you’ll consider staying for dinner, Mr. Munroe.” As she had for the past hour, Violet tried to draw him into the conversation. “As long as you can be discreet. Carly and I aren’t supposed to be meeting like this. In case we conspire to take over the world or somethin’. If the government found out, they might just rush in and kill us where we stand. Isn’t that right, Sam?”
    “Black helicopters and all, babe.”
    “Don’t worry about me.” Parker sat back and stretched his legs, and Carly made a mental note to despise him for having such thick, hard thighs. “I’m an antisocial bastard. But I’m not a snitch.”
    “You’re no such thing,” Violet chided. “You’re a warrior. That’s a Special Forces tattoo, isn’t it?”
    Carly caught the change in Parker’s tone. The more impressed he became, the calmer he seemed. “Good guess.”
    “No guess. I was an army brat. And I know the men who get them don’t take them lightly. Now I