* * *
Taryn ignored his pointed remark. It irked her, though even she had to admit it was well-deserved. She sighed inwardly. Once again Fate was making decisions for her. She fingered her cross absently as she considered her options. Help me, Charlie.
“That’s an unusual piece,” he observed, his eyes locking onto the movement. “Irish?”
She looked down at it, surprised to find it in her hand. “Yes. Someone very special gave it to me.” She exhaled, and offered him a sad little smile. “Charlie was like a father to me. He took me in when I had no one else, treated me as his own.”
“Was?”
“He passed away last year.” Little warning bells sounded in the back of her head. She shouldn’t be telling him any of this. Any information she divulged was potentially life-threatening to both of them.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was a soft rumble, but oddly soothing and sincere. It helped lessen the ache that always came when she thought of the old man. After his death, she hadn’t had anyone to talk to, to share her grief with. It felt good to say his name again, to speak out loud about how much he’d meant to her.
“I am, too. Sometimes I feel like he’s still with me, though,” she said softly, “trying to help.”
Except that no one could help her, not really. It was beginning to sink in now – the fact that she was alone, and would have to remain that way as long as she wanted to survive. It had been so easy to believe that her time with Charlie would last indefinitely. Now she wasn’t sure she could believe in anything anymore.
“How so?” His voice had become soft like hers, coaxing, drawing her out, making her actually want to tell him.
“Well,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed to be sharing this with him. He certainly didn’t seem to be the type to believe in anything that wasn’t one hundred percent tangible. She’d only been in his presence for a few hours, but he was definitely the type to see things in black and white. And her life had a hell of a lot of gray.
“Take last week, for instance. I’m driving down the interstate, and my car dies. I ended up in this little town, bartending for these great guys for a couple of days while my car was in the shop.”
She felt another very real, very physical ache when she thought of Ian and Jake, of how easy it had been to be around them, of how wonderful it had felt to be in Jake’s arms. She missed them terribly – especially Jake – which made no sense to her whatsoever. She had only been around them a few days, yet somehow they had managed to ingrain themselves in her heart so deeply that she would never forget them.
“Sounds fun,” he replied doubtfully. “So you’re a bartender?”
She nodded. “Charlie had an old-fashioned Irish pub. From the day I turned eighteen I worked behind the bar.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “Not exactly a career choice most women aspire to, I guess, but I enjoy it. When I saw the chance in Pine Ridge, I jumped at it. Had a blast.”
“So why’d you leave?”
Taryn shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. It was a perfectly logical question; to not answer it would seem suspicious. “It was a temporary arrangement, only until I could get my car back and get back on the road.” She looked her hands, not at him. “Except my car couldn’t be fixed...”
“So how did you end up at the truck stop with two guys chasing you?”
Her face darkened. “It’s complicated.” She wasn’t sure she understood it herself. She still hadn’t been able to come up with a rational explanation for why Shane and Kieran had been following her. None that she was willing to accept, anyway. If they were the bad guys, then her last sliver of hope for humanity in general would be gone forever, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to continue on if that turned out to be the case.
“Try me.”
For a moment - for one, crazy, totally insane moment - she thought about telling him the truth, all of it. Kane was so easy to talk to, and just telling him the little bit she had lifted some of the weight from her overburdened shoulders. Not another soul alive knew her story; not the whole story, anyway. Some little part of her argued that if she died today, there would be no one who knew what really happened ten years ago. Okay, so maybe she had never quite found the courage to come forward after her escape, but who would have believed her? And if she came forward now? Even she had to admit that it would be hard to believe she’d been in hiding all this time.
And who would she tell anyway? A cop? The FBI? She wouldn’t even make it out of the building before someone silenced her permanently. Still, as long as she lived, there was a chance that she could find a way to bring the bastard to justice. She wouldn’t even mind if she died in the process. As long as she managed to take Gavin Howard down with her.
She opened her mouth to say something, then clamped it shut. Kane seemed like one of the good guys, but could she be sure? And assuming he was, telling him anything would immediately put his life in jeopardy. Looking at him now, it was impossible to believe anything could harm him. He seemed every bit as hard and unyielding as the granite cliffs he’d told her about. But Taryn knew better. Even big, strong men couldn’t survive a shot to the head or one in the heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Kane held his breath. He saw the truth flit across her face like clouds in a summer breeze. Would she confide in him? She wanted to, no doubt about it. Come on, baby. Tell me. Tell me...
He knew the moment she made up her mind. Her eyes cleared and her expression closed again. She would not be sharing with him today.
“What about you?” she said, changing the subject. “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”
Kane shrugged. “What do you want to know?” He was walking a thin line and he knew it, but he needed to build up her trust. There were ways to do that without being completely honest.
“What do you do for a living? What’s your family like? Are you married?” Kane smiled at that last question and decided to address it first.
“No, I’m not married, never have been, doubt I ever will be. My family is big and loud, real pains in the ass, really, but fiercely loyal. And I’m a mercenary.”
He expected a reaction from his last divulgence, but she didn’t even seem to notice, surprising him once again by doing the unexpected.
“Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why don’t you want to get married?”
He scrambled for an answer, came up with nothing he wanted to share. He shook his head. “Uh-uh. If you get a bye, so do I. My turn to ask a question.”
She leaned back in her chair a little, an amused grin tugging at her lips. “Fair enough. But I reserve the right not to answer.”
“As do I. But what we do choose to answer, we do so honestly. Agreed?” She inclined her head in acceptance of his terms. As long as not answering was an option, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was kind of interesting, he thought, that she would trust him to keep his word.
“Go ahead,” she prompted.
“Tell me about your dragon.” The image had been haunting him since it had flashed its eyes at him the night before.
“That’s not a question.”
He raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “And that’s not an answer.”
“Alright. His name is Draic,” she said in hushed tones. “He is my cosantóir.”
“Your protector?” Kane asked, recognizing the word from stories his great-grandfather used to tell all the boys long ago; ancient stories of fiery dragons and brave men.
“You know that?” she said, surprised, the ghost of a smile hovering on her lips.
“Aye,” he said with a little smile of his own. “’Tis a word used in many tales of my brave clan. How does he protect you?”
“He is a constant reminder of what can happen when you are not careful, when you ignore your instincts,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands.
“That’s a nice story. Now tell me what the dragon is hiding, Kiara.”
&nbs
p; “Pass. Do you have any tattoos?”
“Yes, one.”
“May I see it?” He raised both eyebrows at her this time. “Well,” she reasoned, “it seems only fair since you saw mine.”
He couldn’t show her, because he bore the same mark that every male in his family did – the Callaghan crest, consisting of a jeweled dagger piercing a Celtic knot, along with an additional mark that represented each of their unique specialties. He didn’t know if she had seen any of the others, and couldn’t take the chance that she had.
“No.” He almost laughed at the petulant expression on her face. “Are you trying to get me to take my shirt off, Kiara?”
“Would you?”
“No.”
They continued bantering back and forth for a while, each carefully scripting questions and refusing to answer those they didn’t want to. It became a game, each trying to outmaneuver the other with the cleverness of their questions. He learned as much about her by the questions she didn’t answer as the ones she did. When Kiara cleared the table and began to wash the dishes, Kane found himself beside her, drying.
“First girlfriend?” she asked. Kane smiled as he leaned back against the counter. She wasn’t so bad, really, when she wasn’t trying to be a pain in the ass. And maybe, just maybe, he was enjoying her company a little. As interrogations went, it was pretty sweet, actually.
“Susie Matthews in Kindergarten. She was crazy about me. Used to share her cookies with me at snack time. First boyfriend?”
“Tommy Williams. He pulled my hair and then tried to kiss me under the slide in second grade.” Kane looked properly shocked. “You let a boy kiss you in second grade?”
“Of course not,” she grinned. “I stomped on his foot and punched him in the nose. Then I kissed him.”
Kane laughed as he pictured it clearly in his head, a knee-high version of the little hellcat breaking the hearts of all the poor little defenseless boys. “My kind of girl. Where were you headed when your car broke down?” He slipped the question in there casually enough, but he saw her tense out of the corner of his eye.
“East,” she answered vaguely, after only a slight hesitation. “Why do you come here?”
“To find peace, get away for a while. You may find it hard to believe, but I’m really not a social guy. Why were you wearing all that Goth crap?”
“Pass. You like to be alone.”
“That’s not a question, but yes, I do. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Not anymore. Do you mind me being here with you?”
“Not as much as I thought I would. What happened to your family?”
“Pass.”
“Why are you all alone?”
“Pass.”
“What are you running away from?”
“Pass.”
Kane had fired the questions at her one after another. She pulled the drain in the sink, then rubbed at the back of her neck. “You know what? I don’t think I want to play this game anymore.”
“Kiara.” Kane reached out and laid his big hand over her shoulder. “Maybe I can help.”
“You already have. More than you know.” She turned to him, and his gut tightened at the haunted look in her eyes. It was the look of someone who had all but given up hope.
Kiara draped the washcloth over the sink, and turned to go. As she walked behind him, she let out a gasp. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s nothing,” he said. He’d felt the stitches pulling earlier; probably just opened up the wound a little. Nothing he was worried about. But the way her eyes had widened, she probably would. Besides, his latest injuries were definitely not up on the sharing block. He turned his back away from her, but she scooted right along with him, her eyes fixed on the dark stain high on his lower back.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she answered, her hands finding the bottom hem of his shirt and beginning to lift.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled, turning, but once again she moved with him. He tried to look at her over his shoulder, but she was so much shorter than him he just caught a glimpse of the top of her head.
“Trying to help you,” she answered calmly.
Kane inhaled sharply. His entire body went rigid the moment he felt her warm hands on his bare skin. “Stop it,” he barked. She ignored him.
“You just had surgery?” she asked, running her hands over his most recent incision site. “The stitches look like they are pulling open a little. You need to lay down so I can dress this.”
“No, I don’t,” he said firmly, reaching around and finally grabbing hold of her arm, pulling her gently, but firmly, to where he could see her. At least the haunted look was gone, replaced by something that bothered him almost as much – concern for him. It made him uncomfortable. He took care of others, not the other way around. And this was getting way too personal.
“You took care of my hand,” she argued logically. Now she decided to be logical, he thought with annoyance, when logic clearly had no place in this conversation.
“That’s different.”
She snorted. “How?” She looked him right in the eye – from down below, of course – hands on hips. There was that fire in her eyes again, the one that had him inwardly preparing for battle. His heart started pumping a little faster in anticipation. So few really challenged him.
“It just is.”
“Oh, that’s real mature,” she countered. His hand was like an iron cuff around her wrist, but she still had one hand free. He hissed when he felt her hand slide under his shirt at the side and toward the back again. He grabbed her other hand, and held her easily in place with a glare that could have melted steel. She seemed unfazed. Except for that fire in her eyes. He could feel her pulse racing under his fingertips, matching his own.
Good. She should be scared.
“You should have a dressing on that. How are you going to manage that on your own?”
“I’ll figure something out.” Something that did not involve her incredibly warm, soft hands on his skin.
“Don’t be such a baby.”
He growled. A sane woman would be trembling in fear, but the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Come on,” she purred. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” Her words conjured up visions in his mind that were about as far removed from gentle as you could get. He released her wrists and stepped backward quickly as if she was burning him.
“Please, Kane. Let me do this.” When she looked at him like that, the logical part of his brain nearly waved a white flag in surrender. Those big eyes framed in thick dark lashes were deadlier than looking down the barrel of an M-16. Mentally computing the chances of her dropping this – and coming up with slim and none – he sighed inwardly.
“Fine,” he said, backing away but keeping his eyes fixed on her as if he expected her to attack at any moment. He would have preferred that his voice not sounded quite so angry, but then giving in did not come naturally to him. If his brothers found out they’d never let him forget it. “I’ll get the med kit.”
She smiled in triumph. He was more than a little annoyed when he handed the box over to her a minute later, but that was nothing compared to the look of sheer horror that crossed his face when she suggested he lie down. It took some coaxing, but he finally – albeit reluctantly – agreed. He muttered under his breath the whole time, which only seemed to amuse her more.
He steadfastly refused to remove his shirt completely. Behind him, she rolled her eyes and informed him that he was being completely unreasonable, but on this he would not budge. Finally she relented, and made do with just pushing it up as far as she could.
Kane bit back a groan when she straddled him, her thighs on either side of his hips. Why the hell had he agreed to this? Her hands were infinitely gentle, cleaning around the wound and using one of the large, rectangular pads to cover it. If the nurses had touched him like this, he thought, he never would have left the hospital. He shoved those thoughts aside with
extreme force. She was a package, nothing more. And the only reason he was doing this was to earn a bit of her trust and keep the peace.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked, her voice musical again. He expected her to move, but she didn’t. Instead, her hands moved rhythmically over his back, kneading softly. It felt incredible. Small though they were, her hands were strong and skilled, like a masseuse’s. He grunted with some effort.
Kane was disgusted with himself. He knew he should make her stop. And he would. Soon. But not quite yet. She was a total pain in the ass but she had incredible hands.
The rain continued to pound heavily on the roof. The warmth of the fire washed over him. The stroke of her hands, in perfect timing to the sweet melody she hummed, lulled him into a state of relaxation with which he was wholly unfamiliar. All of those things, combined with a decided lack of sleep, conspired against him. He allowed his eyes to close – just for a moment.
* * *
Taryn kept massaging his back even after he’d dozed off. It was selfish; she liked the feel of him under her hands. Layers and layers of muscle rippled just beneath tanned, smooth skin. Kane was built. Really built. A pang of guilt tugged at her. She was touching Kane, but thinking of Jake, and that was just unfair to everyone.
But what did it matter now anyway? She would never see Jake again. In another day or two she’d be on her way and Kane would also be nothing but a memory. Then it would just be her, alone again, and life would go back to being simple. But until then, why not just enjoy the warmth of another human being for just a little while longer? There was a very real possibility this would be the last chance she would ever have.
Taryn stretched out along Kane’s back, loving the feel of his hard body beneath her. Jake’s words from that first morning echoed back in her head: There are bears in the woods, you know. She chuckled softly. Yes, apparently there were. Big, grumpy bears who had big, soft hearts. Resting her cheek in the curve of his upper back, she sighed and dozed off as well.
Dangerous Secrets: Callaghan Brothers, Book 1 Page 16
