by Anya Breton
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.
Chapter Two
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.
