Guarded Heart (2 page)

Her five-foot eight-inch frame was coated in a pair of
low-rise jeans that looked painted over her toned body. Several times he caught
his gaze dropping from her dark scowl to the peaks that pushed at her gray
T-shirt. Brook had clearly eaten a few sweets since he’d last seen her, because
she’d filled out more than just her lanky frame. Too bad it wasn’t the bad sort
of filling out. No, the stomach visible beneath her top was tighter than his.

“A Ranger,” he said while Irvin searched for the direct
number to the Rangers’ office. “I’m stunned you passed boot camp without
killing anyone.”

“Who said I didn’t kill anyone?” She hadn’t missed a beat.
Her ice-blue eyes glittered with anger she did little to hide.

Should he chuckle or glare? With Brook it was always hard to
decide. She might well have killed someone for what she’d deemed a perfectly
logical reason and somehow managed to move up in the ranks despite it.

The female was a menace with her pessimistic views on
humanity and the factions at large. She truly believed people were guilty until
proven innocent. And she thought
he
was naïve for believing in their
inherent good.

Fortunately Irvin dialed the correct number. An aging woman
answered with a formal greeting and then set them on hold so she could fetch
her boss. The music they were obliged to listen to was soft adult rock that
grated on his nerves.

Kyle Destan was the head of Neptune’s Rangers. He
’
d come highly recommended by all
involved, not that they had many options if they wanted to keep this issue
quiet. Unless they wanted a Fire witch Ranger to stand sentinel for the area’s
Water witches, they had to go through Kyle.

“Destan,” the male said briskly from the home office in
California.

“Master Destan, this is Morgan Seaton
…
in the Great Lakes Region.”

Morgan hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea he was now high
priest over a seven-state region. The job was still new—he’d had it a mere five
months.

“Priest Seaton, what can I do for you?”

“I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding,” Morgan said.
“I’m not sure the Ranger you sent will be a good fit for our situation.”

“Ranger Calder is the best. She is a good fit for any
situation.”

The female herself spoke up. “Not this one. Sorry, Master
Destan, but this guy is hopeless.”

He
was hopeless? Brook was the only hopeless
individual in the room. She wouldn’t know what happiness was if she’d landed on
an island made of fluffy cotton candy and ice cream peaks that was home to an
indigenous population of fuzzy kittens. She was incapable of tender emotion. He
couldn’t work with someone like her.

“Calder—”

“No,” Morgan said, interrupting Master Destan
’
s long-distance reproach. “She’s
correct. I’m hopeless because I’m unwilling to work with her particular brand
of act-first-and-question-later operation. If we must have a Ranger, I want one
who will protect me without collateral damage.”

There wasn’t an immediate response. The lack of one made
Morgan uneasy. His fear was partially realized when the man spoke next.

“The Rangers weigh every situation for the best possible
outcome,” Master Destan said.

“I’m sure that they do—”

“If I may interject,” Irvin said from his position at the
desk in the middle of the room. The older man—his trusted advisor and uncle on
his father’s side—focused his full attention on Morgan. “You need protection.
That man pulling a gun on you in Macy’s was a close call. The Great Lakes
Region needs her priest alive. If this Ranger Calder is their best Ranger, then
I think we owe it to the covens to set aside our differences and work with
her.”

Work
with
Brook? That was like asking a goldfish to
work with a school of piranha!

Brook spoke up, her throaty voice sounding rougher than when
the discussion had begun. “Differences aside, I can’t protect people who will
fight me at every turn for what they think are character flaws.”

Morgan pressed his lips thin. He didn’t
think
she had
character flaws. It was an irrefutable fact.

Irvin faced her. “Then what do you suggest we do for
protection?”

Brook folded her arms in front of her chest, thrusting her
pert breasts up an inch higher. “The priest should give up his position to
someone capable of holding it.”

Morgan drew in a long breath through his nose, battling down
his ire even as Brook’s superior chastised her for her rudeness. Frustration
flooded his insides faster than he could ever recall—this was one time he
believed the common wisdom that Water witches experienced emotions greater than
that of any other creature on Earth.

This woman was unbearable. He wanted her out of his office.

“I am capable of holding my position,” Morgan said,
simmering with checked anger.

The blasted woman’s lips curved into a maddening smirk. Her
gaze swept down him as if to say his current pose—seated at a chair at a tiny
table—was the only position he could hold for any length of time.

Her words accented the expression. “A few months and you’re
already calling the Rangers for help—”

“
Calder,
” Master Destan said reproachfully.

She lifted her palms up in a sign of surrender her boss
wouldn’t see.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Morgan said for the tenth time
since Irvin had made the suggestion. “I survived one assassination attempt.
I’ll survive the others.”

The slow lift of Brook’s eyebrows implied she was dubious of
his claim.

“Morgan,” Irvin said with a similarly reproachful manner.
“You need a bodyguard. Ranger Calder comes highly recommended. I think you
should work this out.”

Morgan shook his head in time with Brook. They were in
agreement about
one
thing—this would never work. They were simply too
different. Being forced to spend more than a few minutes in each other’s
company generally turned into a debacle that lived on in infamy.

“Calder is our best Ranger,” Master Destan said. “And if
Calder wants to continue
being
a Ranger, she
’
ll find a solution for you, Priest Seaton.” He paused.
“And when she does find that solution, she’ll be elevated to the designation of
Master Ranger.”

Morgan didn’t miss the flash in Brook’s icy eyes. It had
almost been…warm. He found himself tilting his head to the right. Morgan wanted
to see more of the curious expression of hope that had settled into features he
was certain had never smiled a day in her life. Her focus snapped to him. Hope
immediately fizzled when resentment darkened her gaze to the color of the
stormy Pacific Ocean.

Destan’s voice filled the room with a single word. “Yes?”

“Yes, Master Destan,” she said tightly.

“I trust there will be no further problems,” the male said
in such a way that even Morgan felt obligated to agree.

But he was high priest now and that meant a responsibility
to his people. This wasn’t a decision he could make with a Master Ranger on the
phone, Irvin hovering at the desk and Brook bloody Lochlan standing grumpily at
his door.

He inhaled slowly and then spoke with care. “If we decide to
utilize the services of Neptune’s Rangers, we will use whichever Ranger you
deem the best fit. Thank you for your time, Master Destan. And we apologize for
interrupting you.”

Morgan stood from the small table. Both Brook and Irvin
watched him cross to the desk. There he personally disconnected the call.

He turned toward the woman slouched at his door. “We will
need a day to consider this. You are welcome to sightsee while we consider the
issue at hand.”

“I’ve seen about all I need to see of this…place,” she said.

Morgan’s muscles stiffened at the insult she
’
d barely held back. He’d come to enjoy
the region. The lake was an impressive body of water that soothed him down to
his pores. He considered himself privileged to have a home within feet of it.

How could a Water witch of any kind find the region
distasteful? Perhaps the woman had never been to a desert. Maybe he’d find a
way to make sure she experienced one.

Rather than argue with her, Morgan gestured for Irvin to
find a new phone number. “We’ll have a car brought to take you into Chicago.
You can see the Magnificent Mile. Shop a little. Enjoy yourself on our dime.”

Disdain settled around her pale eyes. Morgan gritted his
teeth to keep from snapping at her. After a count to five, he released his
irritation. He smiled at her, giving it his all. Her expression darkened.

And that made his lighten.

Brook hadn’t changed much from her youth. But he had. If for
some unfortunate reason he was forced to deal with her for longer than a day,
he would take great pleasure in showing her exactly how much.

He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time Brook had seen
him. Morgan was still the bleeding heart he’d always been. But this time when
he got himself in trouble for trusting the wrong person, a seven-state region
would be in trouble.

Who had been the brainchild behind
that
decision?

And sightsee? The guy was clearly on a very strong
prescription drug if he thought she had any interest in seeing what this dump
of a steel town had to offer. Perhaps she’d drop a choice word or two to make
sure
he decided not to use the Rangers’ services.

But if he did that, she wouldn’t have the chance to make
Master level. Brook
had
to become a Master Ranger. She’d worked her ass
off for years to be the best. No liberal priest was going to keep her from her
dream.

So she stalked through the dated interior toward the front
door with her duffel bag still slung over her shoulder. Fresh air—any air that
wasn’t shared by Morgan—was in order.

The weather outside was a little too warm to sit comfortably
for the few minutes it would take the car to return. Brook walked around the
house in the direction of the cooler lake while simultaneously checking for
security issues.

Unreal.
Didn’t they understand how dangerous a
building with more windows than walls was? Though a concrete wall would do
little to stop a determined witch, the windows were worrying for the other
factions. Not to mention the security issues posed by the odd vanilla human
with a weapon…like the one who had tried to gun down the high priest three days
ago. And the filmy curtains did nothing to help the situation. Even the garden
gate was wide open.

In short, these people weren’t thinking of their safety at all.

Brook stood at the edge of the lake, drawing in calm off the
slowly sloshing water. The water was cold; she could sense that without
touching it. And deep, deeper than most of the lakes she’d been near. If she
ignored the nearby industrial outcrops and the frustrating male in the house
behind her, she could admit the lake was rather nice.

Too bad it was ruled over by such a tool.

Morgan’s focus remained on the stiff figure posed at the
lake’s edge outside his office window. “We can handle this threat on our own.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw Irvin shake his head three
times. “We? I don’t know what you expect me to do, Morgan. Because I most
certainly can’t be vigilant twenty-four hours a day for myself, let alone for
you.”

“Neither can she.”

“She has more of a shot than we do. Her sole intent would be
your safety.”

Morgan’s breath caught.

Brook’s sole intent would be my safety.

He couldn’t deny she’d kept him safe the few times they’d
run into each other over the years. But her violent methods and rotten attitude
were simply too hard to swallow for longer than five minutes. She was a danger
to his people, not to mention a serious downer. Morgan had enough dour
individuals in his life.

“This isn’t like you, Morgan,” Irvin said. “You and this
Ranger Calder have a past?”

Morgan pressed his eyes shut against the memories of the
scrapes youthful Brook Lochlan had helped him out of and he her. Yes, they had
a past.

He forced himself away from the window. “It’s nothing like
you’re thinking.”

Moving to the desk, he sat and took hold of a steno pad and
pencil. His intent had been to jot down the pros and cons of accepting the
Ranger’s help. What he did instead was absently scribble shapes. Several
seconds passed before he realized Irvin awaited a better explanation.

“I met Ranger Calder when she was eight and I was six. We
were vacationing at the beach in Oregon,” he said without looking at his
friend. “I’d been showing off in the surf with my father’s new fishing pole. A
trio of vanilla humans asked to see it. They knocked me down and then ran away
with the pole.”

Morgan’s gaze shot up in time to catch the recognition on
Irvin’s face. His cheeks warmed guiltily.

“Yes,
that
fishing pole,” he said. “Brook got it back
for me but not without collateral damage. She gave the two larger boys black
eyes. For their wounded pride, they snapped the fishing pole in two places
before giving it back to me.”

Morgan stared at the window, vision blurring. “She told me
I’d been stupid to let the boys touch the pole—that I was an idiot for trusting
vanilla humans.”

He shook his head as the old memory rushed back in as if it
had happened only yesterday. “It was me who defused the situation when the
boys’ mothers came looking for the bully responsible for blackening their
children’s eyes. Brook told the women the truth but they didn’t believe her. It
made her angry. So she tried to
make
them believe the truth. Though
Father had taught me never to use my magic unless it was an emergency, I
couldn’t let her abuse her power. I used it on her. She never forgave me for
intervening. And she reminded me of my failing every time her mother brought
her to the coast.”

Morgan dropped the pen. “Remember the summer I drove my father’s
car into a tree?”

Irvin nodded.

“Brook was behind that as well. The local priestess’s
daughter Amanda had been flirting with me since I’d arrived at the beach house.
All of the Water witch kids got together one evening. Amanda suggested we go
for ice cream and that I should drive because I had my license. Brook told me
not to do it because she thought Amanda’s male friends were jealous and wanted
to hurt me. I did it anyway.

“One of the males said something that angered Brook. I
didn’t hear what it was. But I remember exactly what happened after. She
attacked
them
in
the car.” Morgan tapped a finger on the desk. “I had to duck
more than one fist and lost control of the wheel. Brook nearly drowned one of
them with a vicious bit of magic before I stopped her. Instead of apologizing
for trashing my father’s vehicle and nearly killing someone, Brook said I was
foolish for getting in the car with rivals and for ignoring her warnings. I had
to work two jobs that summer to pay for the repairs.”

Morgan sighed. “Every summer she spent at the beach included
at least one debacle—usually involving me. The woman can’t control her temper.”

“With all due respect, Morgan. I know I haven’t heard the
full stories but it sounds as though she’s the perfect person for this
situation. And it sounds as though you can handle her temper even if she
can’t.”

He could.

But did he want to?

Brook stretched out her empathy net as far as it would go,
using a steady draw on the lake. It was good practice to see how wide she could
cast her magic. And it had nothing to do with wanting to know Morgan’s mood in
the building behind her.

Not only could she sense he was frustrated but she also knew
the older gentleman was mildly amused and Mira was impatient. But what Brook
hadn’t counted on were the dual signatures coming from not far beyond them—the
dual signatures with agitated, frightened moods.

Fear made people behave unpredictably. Ranger 101 taught
that important fact. And anyone afraid this close to the priest’s cottage
couldn’t be a good thing.

Brook sprinted for the house with a combination of speed and
stealth. A white limousine awaited her just beyond the short driveway. The two
vanilla humans getting out of the front seat were not the same as the ones who
drove her from the airport. Their unfamiliar emotional signatures told her they
were new visitors. And why would
both
get out of the car if they’d come
to drive her?

Easing against the building, Brook hid where the men
wouldn’t see her. Without her weapons she had no choice but to use magical
force if the situation turned ugly. Observation would be required until she
worked out
what
that situation was.

Though dressed in black suits identical to those on the
previous “drivers”, these men’s outfits were ill-fitting. It was as if the men
had stolen the clothes right off their predecessors’ backs. The loosely
flopping loafers on the smaller individual proved her suspicions. Even if the
men had borrowed suits while they filled in for indisposed colleagues, they
would have worn shoes that fit. Safety depended on it.

Brook kept watch around the corner as they slunk up to the
front porch and knocked on the door. She snapped a full empathic link into
place when their knuckles lifted to the sturdy wood. But a metaphysical
connection wasn’t required to note something was off. The smaller man’s gaze
darting around was suspicious.

Years of instinct told her to act now and damn the
consequences. These men were not supposed to be here. Every fiber of her being
told her that. But it wasn’t only her instincts that made her the best Ranger
in Neptune’s Fellowship. Brook had learned to temper her impulsive urges with
careful consideration thanks to Kyle’s help.

Thus she would wait until these men made a definite move.
And
then
she would stop them.

A mere five seconds passed before the larger of the duo had
a gun barrel shoved into Mira’s face.

Brook slipped out from beside the house with her hand
outstretched—the
hint
of a weapon. “Put down your weapons or we’ll be
forced to shoot.
”
A firm press of
magical manipulation backed up her authoritative tone.

Both men dropped their guns to their sides. Their agitation
increased, no doubt because they’d been caught.

“I’m going to have to ask you to move away from the door,
ma’am,” Brook said with a polite delivery she wasn’t feeling.

Mira should have been able to handle at least one of the
humans herself. Instead the haughty witch had frozen in fear.

Brook pressed more power into the men during her steady trip
to the porch. They would do everything she said because their wills weren’t
powerful enough to counteract her magic. “Set your guns down and then step into
the house, nice and slowly.” She gave a menacing shake of the hand shaped like
a gun. “Make no other movements but those I’ve told you to or I’ll shoot.”

They followed her orders to the letter. That was important
now that she had an audience. Morgan and his older friend appeared within the
living room soon after she stepped into the foyer, Morgan’s forehead bunched
above wide eyes.

Brook ignored the priest’s obvious shock while she patted
the humans down for other weapons. They were clean of anything else. She
reached for a doily off the nearby hall table, using it to guard against
fingerprints as she lifted their guns from the porch.

A quick check showed both weapons were loaded and ready.
With the cartridges open so the others could see, Brook shifted her attention
to Morgan.

“Still think you can handle this on your own?”

If Morgan had been a cynical man he might have thought Brook
had planned this. The timing on the nearly violent episode was too perfect.
He’d been about to fetch her inside so he could tell her the Rangers’ services
weren’t needed. Now there was no choice.

Rather than answer Brook
’
s
snide question, he crossed the room and took Mira’s hand. Lowering his head
until their eyes were level, he drew in her mood with the help of an empathic
link. She was upset—with good reason—and angry.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Mira bobbed her head and lifted a finger to her lower lids
as if to wipe away tears.

The poor woman. He knew what it was like to have a firearm pointed
in his face. Morgan had never wanted anyone else to experience that. Everyone
around him was in danger until he learned who had orchestrated these attacks.

“Mira, I want you to take some time off—paid vacation, of
course—until it’s safe for you to return.”

Her eyes remained steady for a moment, perhaps failing to
understand what he’d said. And then they widened. “Morgan, no. You need your
staff with you. It’s the busiest season with the influx of tourists—”

“I don’t need my staff with me until this dangerous
situation is resolved.”

Determination flared in Mira’s gaze.

“If it will make you feel better, you can work from home,”
he said. “Take the laptop. But I don’t want you back in Gary until the Rangers
trap this menace.”

Mira shot a look over his shoulder to where Brook stood. Her
focus then moved to the humans awaiting their fates. At last she nodded.

Morgan squeezed her hand in his before releasing her
fingers. After a beat he faced Brook and her prisoners. The move would protect
Mira from the males were they to try anything. But it would also make it easier
for her to fetch the laptop out of the living room without disturbing the
scene.

Brook held the pair of guns in her palm on the scrap of
lace. He sensed impatience flowing off her—an emotion she wasn’t trying to hide
in her flattened lips and narrowed eyes. She never hid her emotions. It was one
of the things he’d admired about her.

He chose his words carefully. “What would a Ranger
customarily do now?”

“You haven’t officially hired us,” she said in that snide
tone she did so well.

“Consider yourself hired,” Irvin said for both of them.

Morgan didn’t react. But the leisurely lift of Brook’s
eyebrows implied she wouldn’t take his uncle’s word for it. The acceptance
would have to come from Morgan.

He lowered his head in a deferential bow. “We would be
honored if the Rangers would assist us with our situation.”

Had that slight twisting of her lips been a partial smile?

No. She never smiled.

She stalked toward the humans. Morgan’s heart shot into his
throat from fear…for whom, he wasn’t sure. Brook took hold of the humans’
wrists. A brisk ocean-scented breeze lifted in his nostrils. He’d recognize
that scent of brine, moss and beach grass anywhere. It was Brook’s unique
magical marker.

“We’ll consider leaving the police out of this matter if you
tell us the truth,” she said for the humans’ benefit. “What were you going to
do once you got inside the house?”

The flood of her cool power flowed through the room. Though
he disagreed with the plan to leave the authorities out of this matter, it was
perhaps intended as a cover for magic. The humans wouldn’t consider
supernatural explanations for why they’d shared harmful information if they
believed they’d revealed truths to save themselves from incarceration. Old
Brook wouldn’t have concerned herself with covering her tracks.

Her eyes narrowed on her quarry. Both individuals shifted
uncomfortably beneath that unnerving gaze. The bigger one cracked.

“They said they’d hurt our mother,” the human said. “If we
didn’t come here and hurt the blond guy, they said an accident would happen at
her nursing home.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

Both humans shook their heads.

The spokesman answered. “We don’t know. They were wearing
masks.”

“How many of them are there?”

Morgan watched with quiet curiosity as Brook interrogated
the men. They quickly learned two individuals in full black with masks covering
their heads had threatened the humans. And that the humans were certain one was
male. The other hadn’t spoken.

Though a threat had been levied, the true draw had been the
promise of thirty thousand dollars. Was his life worth so little?

Brook pulled a slim phone out of her pocket and dialed 9-1-1
rather than release the humans. He’d have preferred Mira avoid entanglement
with the police but since the guns had been pointed in
her
face, that
wasn’t an option. So he would provide as much moral support as he could and
hope it would be the last time they had to speak to the authorities until the
culprit was found.

* * * * *

Brook hoisted her duffel bag back over her shoulder within
seconds of the police departure. She hadn’t liked lying to the humans but it
was a common Ranger procedure.