In the Crossfire (Bloodhaven)

by Lynn Graeme

  He knew too well how much she loved Naley, how she would never want to hurt her niece or her sister, and how that lapse must surely haunt her each and every day.

  This was her confession, now, and it was his turn to bear witness.

  “I never fought against the psych visits again.” Thick lashes fanned down for a brief moment, lifting up to reveal golden-green eyes burning right into his soul. “Every time I’m put off-duty and get sent to the staff psychologist, I do it without question, because there is always in the back of my mind that terror that one day I’ll slip.”

  He reached for her, framing her soft face with his hands. “You would never hurt Naley. Or your family, or the people you love.”

  “All it takes is one slip, Liam. One mistake. There’s no coming back from that.” She dragged in a deep breath. “I’m not telling you all this to force you to go to therapy, or to take meds, or to … to … to I don’t know what. I’m telling you this because … because… .”

  “Shh,” he said softly, because he could see her struggling. She was the one struggling with words this time, and he needed to spare her from it.

  He touched his lips to her forehead, to her nose. His palm curved over the back of her neck. He rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes, holding her hand to his chest as he brought her close.

  He stood there with her, breathing her in. Savoring her softness and her touch, loving her for her hard edges and complex vulnerability.

  We can both of us make a whole, she’d said.

  Once the nightmares returned, he’d question the naiveté of such sanguine words. For now, he allowed himself to clutch at that small wisp of hope that was even now curling around his heart.

  Chapter Ten

  Usually, whenever Isobel went out for her morning coffee on the deck, dawn would be just barely piercing its way through the horizon. The air would briskly glide across her skin, thickening the swirls of steam arising from her mug, a crisp herald of the day ahead.

  On this particular morning, the sun was much higher in the bright blue sky. The land before her was awash with gold, while the mountains behind her seemed to swell with their own importance as they cast off their shadows as one would an unwanted cloak.

  She sat there, sipping from her mug, unused to such a lazy awakening to the day. Usually she’d be miles away and in uniform by now. Part of the reason for this lazy awakening could be attributed to her being on leave, having a brief reprieve from her usual demanding schedule. The real reason, she knew, was her having joined Liam on his run last night.

  He really was a magnificent creature, Isobel thought as she recalled him loping beside her in wolf form. Muscles contracting and expanding beneath silver fur, padded feet silently skimming the ground.

  At one point, sensing her perusal, he had turned to look at her, baring his teeth in a grin.

  Isobel had swerved sharply in retaliation, pouncing on his back and knocking him off his feet. She’d raced out of reach before he had even finished tumbling to a halt. Liam had growled and given chase, Isobel’s laughing chirps following in her wake.

  She could easily outrun him in her cheetah form, but her speed came in spurts. Liam was built for endurance, and he got his revenge when he’d dragged her collapsed form halfway across the property by the tail. She’d managed to take a swipe at him before seeking refuge up in a tree, but it’d been worth it just to see the energized gleam in his eyes.

  He’d shown her all his favorite places that night. Deep in the woods, up by the cliffs, even a deserted fox burrow that he’d blocked off to prevent it becoming a den. He was, Isobel realized, even more familiar with her property than she was herself.

  Drowsy but exhilarated by their midnight adventures, they’d curled up next to each other and fallen asleep under the stars.

  She’d given a grumbling Liam a lick across the brow before leaving him that morning. She managed to grab a shower before Naley woke up, not that the girl had spoken to her since their talk the previous night. Ten minutes ago, Isobel had spied the girl rounding the outside of the house with her soccer ball under her arm. It was clear she hadn’t noticed Isobel on the deck, and that she’d wanted to be alone, so Isobel had given her her space.

  Now Isobel contemplated the phone in her hand. She thought about her fears and the ever-present memory preventing her from making that call. She thought about Liam last night, cupping her face between his hands. To her left came the thud, thud, thud of Naley kicking her ball against the stone wall surrounding the house.

  The steady tempo, curiously, helped her come to her decision. She drained her coffee mug and went inside the house.

  Twenty minutes later, call completed, Isobel studied the contents of her fridge. She heard Naley enter the house through the back, nudging her soccer ball to the corner.

  She knew Naley was aware of her presence, but the girl merely scuffed her shoes on the kitchen doormat and kept her head lowered.

  “’Morning,” said Isobel. “What do you feel like for breakfast?”

  Naley shrugged, still not looking at her. “Whatever.”

  Isobel laid out a stack of sliced bread, then grabbed a carton of eggs—newly replenished since the last time Naley had used them up—and cottage cheese.

  “French toast okay with you?” she asked.

  Naley muttered something that sounded like an assent. She lifted her head, took one look at the cottage cheese, and twitched.

  Isobel smothered a smile and grabbed some milk as well as a jar of mustard.

  “That’s not how you make French toast,” Naley said from behind her.

  “Really?” Isobel ducked her head in the fridge, pretending to search for something else to add to the concoction. “Thought I saw it in a recipe somewhere.”

  An impatient noise followed before Naley muscled Isobel aside and shoved the cottage cheese back in the fridge. “I’ll do it. Sit down.”

  Isobel did as ordered. She watched the tension in Naley’s spine recede by the minutest degree as she focused on preparing their meal.

  “Did you sleep well?” Isobel asked. By the time she’d left Naley’s room last night, the girl had been tucked up in bed, tear-streaked face turned away from her aunt. Isobel suspected the cub hadn’t been reassured at all by their conversation.

  Naley shrugged. Isobel was nudging the handle of her empty coffee mug back and forth when Naley added, “You didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Sleep.” Naley cast a dry glance over her shoulder. “I know Liam spent the night.”

  Isobel stared at her.

  “His scent is all over upstairs. Strong, too, so I know it’s not just transference.”

  “How do you know about transference?”

  Naley turned around, arms folded. “I learn a lot of things around you, Aunt Iz.”

  Isobel couldn’t argue with that. Liam was right. Try as she might, she couldn’t shield Naley from all the dangers unleashed by the world. And deep inside, she knew she’d be doing her niece a disservice if she did.

  “Well,” Isobel began slowly, “it’s true Liam did stay for a few hours… .”

  “Is that what grown-ups call it?”

  Isobel narrowed her eyes, but Naley looked unperturbed. Isobel had the sneaking suspicion the girl was enjoying this. Carefully, she asked, “How do you feel about me and Liam?”

  Naley rolled her eyes. “Toldja he liked you. All in the ears. Anyway, it’s about time. If you were my age, my friends and I would’ve shoved the two of you in a locked closet for fifteen minutes until you got your act together.”

  Isobel stared at her, nonplussed.

  “Okay, maybe an hour. Ew.” But Naley’s eyes held a teasing sparkle, and Isobel relaxed.

  “Well… . Good. I think. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable about this thing between Liam and me.”

  “Please. Everybody but you could see it from a mile away.”

  “Who’s ‘everybody’?”

  “Oh. Right.
Just me, I guess.” Naley wrinkled her nose. “It’s not like there’re a lot of people around here to see.”

  “Does that bother you?” Isobel studied her. “I know it must be hard for you right now, living far away from your friends.”

  Naley turned away and began cracking eggs. “I don’t mind.”

  “It’s not normal. You deserve to be able to hang out with your friends whenever you want, doing normal teenager stuff, without having to worry about access codes, or safety risks, or suspects I deal with or … or living an hour away from civilization.”

  “And worrying about whether Mom’s gonna be home on any given day is more normal?”

  Isobel opened her mouth, then closed it.

  “There’s no such thing as normal,” Naley said flatly. “Normal’s a term you grown-ups came up with. The way you grew up is normal. It’s not the same way the rest of us are growing up. Our normals aren’t the same.”

  Isobel thought about her childhood years, moving from place to place, country to country, surrounded by bodyguards and following her father’s household rules.

  No, she conceded, I guess they’re not.

  “That doesn’t mean our normal is worse than yours.” Naley crushed some empty eggshells in her fist before tossing them into the sink and washing her hands. “It’s just different. It’s our kind of normal.”

  Her shoulders were tense. It reminded Isobel of Kaya in her youth, at her most stubborn, just before she’d take off without warning.

  And it was that thought that filled Isobel with worry and apprehension. Whatever happened, she had to see this one through. She had to handle things differently now, or risk seeing the same unhappy, restless spirit that flowed through the mother echo in the daughter.

  From her seat, Isobel reached over to Naley and turned her around. She drew the girl closer to stand between her outstretched legs. She held on to Naley’s hands, taking a moment to wonder at their smallness and unmarred skin. She was so young and brave.

  Finally she looked up. “Tell me the truth,” Isobel said softly. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll listen, whatever you say. Do you feel lonely out here?”

  Naley glared. “No.”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “I am! I said no!”

  Isobel tugged gently at Naley’s fingers, and Naley quieted down.

  “I have friends,” the girl said mulishly. “I see them at school.”

  “Is that enough? Don’t you want to spend time with them outside of school?”

  “We do. We chat on our phones and computers. That’s what everyone does. Just ’cause I like ’em doesn’t mean I want to spend all my time with ’em. I have my own life too.”

  A startled laugh escaped Isobel.

  “It’s true,” Naley insisted, frowning.

  Isobel quickly nodded. “So you like your space.”

  “’Course. Just like you like yours. What’s so weird about that?”

  “Nothing.” Isobel smiled.

  Naley fidgeted. “Look, I know it’s inconvenient having to pick me up from school all the time. But summer’s coming soon, and it’s just a couple of years until I get my driving license anyway. You won’t have to worry about it then.”

  Isobel shook her by the fingers. “You’re not an inconvenience. Don’t worry about my schedule. I’ll work things out.”

  Naley subsided, then suddenly eyed her, having picked up on Isobel’s words. “You will?”

  Isobel nodded. “And if anything happens—if I’m called away on missions and end up incommunicado for a few days, which will happen, I’m afraid—”

  “I know.”

  “—then I’ll make sure I give you plenty of notice, and you can arrange a sleepover with one of your friends until I come get you.”

  Naley’s expression turned guarded. “You’re not gonna shove me back with Mom?”

  Isobel tried to think of a kind way to phrase it: I don’t know if your mom will always be there, cub.

  From the way Naley was looking at her, Isobel realized she didn’t have to say it at all. Naley knew.

  Her niece gave a firm nod, then brightened. “Or you could always let Liam know. I don’t think he’ll object too much to driving me to and from school. He seemed to have survived the experience the other day.” She grinned. “And if he moves in with you, I’ll get to feed him a lot more.”

  Isobel hesitated. “We have to be prepared, cub. In case Liam doesn’t stay.”

  “What do you mean?” Naley’s brows furrowed. “’Course he’ll stay.”

  “If this thing between us ends, then there’s a chance… .”

  “If he doesn’t stay,” Naley said fiercely, “you’ll make him stay.”

  Isobel smiled faintly. “You can’t make someone do what he doesn’t want to do, cub.”

  “Who says he doesn’t want to?”

  Well, there was that.

  I’m here for the long haul, Isobel.

  She’d taken plenty of chances in the line of duty. Was it too much to take a chance in her personal life as well?

  “So you’re not gonna make me leave?” Naley watched her uncertainly, as if afraid her aunt would change her mind.

  Isobel smiled. “No. In fact, I spoke to your mom this morning.”

  Naley stiffened.

  “To ask if she was willing to concede guardianship to me. So that you could stay on a permanent basis.”

  Naley’s jaw dropped. “What did she say?” the girl finally managed.

  “First tell me what you think.”

  Isobel had been half-afraid that she’d been too presumptive, that for all that Naley wanted to stay with her aunt, she’d resent Isobel trying to take over from her mother.

  She needn’t have worried. Naley was jumping up and down now, her young face lit up, brilliant enough to rival the sun.

  “You mean it?” she demanded, her voice nearly a squeal, eyes wide with apprehensive excitement. “Like, I’ll always stay here? This will be my home? With you?”

  All of a sudden, Isobel didn’t know why she’d ever feared Naley’s reaction. She nodded, unable to speak.

  “What did Mom say?” Naley grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her hard. Isobel laughed. “What did she say?”

  “She said as long as you’re willing, and as long as she can see you whenever she’s in town… .” Because Kaya did care for her daughter, in her own way, even if there’d been a measure of relief in her tone when Isobel had made her the offer. “Then yes.”

  This time Naley allowed herself a full-blown squeal. She threw her arms around Isobel and hugged her tight, the noises she was making almost piercing Isobel’s eardrum.

  “I gather you’re willing?” Isobel mused against Naley’s shoulder.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Naley popped her head back, grinned at her aunt, then hugged her again. “Thank you, Aunt Iz!”

  “No need to thank me. You know I love you.” Isobel squeezed her, savoring the joy of the moment. She tried not to think of that ever-present fear, that ever-present memory she’d shared with Liam the previous night. She could still remember the surge of all-encompassing horror she’d felt all those years ago in Kaya’s living room as she’d dropped the blade from her hands, Naley’s distracted babbles coming from the far corner of the room.

  She put her mouth to Naley’s ear. “I promise, cub, I won’t ever hurt you.”

  She didn’t know if Naley detected the faint wobble in her voice. She didn’t know if Naley even heard her at all. The girl was still yipping in excitement. All too soon Naley broke away and half-jumped, half-danced across the kitchen floor.

  “There are ground rules to follow,” Isobel warned. “There’ll be times I tell you to do something and I expect you to do it, no questions asked. There’ll be times I run background checks on your friends. On prospective prom dates.”

  “I figured you were doing that already.” Naley beamed and tossed a slice of bread in the air. She didn’t seem to mind when she failed to catch it.r />
  Isobel raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll definitely have to start now.”

  Naley laughed and began working on breakfast with gusto. Isobel doubted the girl realized how seriously Isobel planned to take her guardianship duties, but there would be time enough to handle the travails of growing up. It was part of the journey, after all.

  Part of normal.

  Isobel reached out to hug Naley once more.

  *

  It was nearly noon when Isobel made her way to Liam’s cabin. In her hands was a plate of sandwiches Naley had insisted she take with her.

  “I know he’s gonna stay,” Naley had reasoned, “but no harm in sweetening the deal anyway, right?”

  “You scare me sometimes,” Isobel had mused, but she’d taken the plate with her all the same.

  She saw Liam at his workbench, working on the start of something that had beautiful dark curves. She was a little surprised; he’d only just recently made a delivery to Hooper’s, and he usually took a week or two off after completing each project. Most times he used the opportunity to cut down the overgrown brush and see to other upkeep. She now knew that he needed to work at his own pace. He didn’t want to churn out cabinet after cabinet and chair after chair the way his pack had wanted him to, just so they could make a profit.

  He did this because he wanted to, and because it calmed him. They had no call to treat him like a damn factory.

  Without even a measure of care for his mental well-being, Isobel thought with a snarl.

  She had to force herself to pull back. It wasn’t as if she’d taken action herself in the past year since meeting him. She’d kept her distance, hadn’t pressed him. Hadn’t realized the extent of his post-traumatic stress. She had to own up to that herself.

  There was no magic spell to make everything right. There would always be, as she’d told Liam, parts and pieces in disrepair. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to make him happy. Even if for just short moments in time, she had to try, and as much as possible.

  He’d given her something indefinably, immeasurably deep and wonderful, and she owed it to him to return the favor.

  Liam sensed her before she was anywhere near him. His head lifted, his eyes glittering as he took her in from head to toe. He was bare-chested, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Isobel noticed him immediately angling his body so that she didn’t get a full view of his back.