by Anya Breton
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.
The threats had been dispatched to the city jail where they’d await arraignment. And Morgan had personally walked Mira to her car. Only the older gentleman remained in the cottage. There was a half-smile on the male’s face—a knowing expression Brook didn’t care for.
“I’m Irvin by the way.” He extended his hand for a shake with a far grander gesture than was required. “Morgan’s uncle.”
Brook scanned him for details she’d overlooked the first few times as she firmly shook his hand again. Once more he tried to engage an empathic link. Once more she shut him down. Though he wasn’t blond, particularly tall or terribly handsome, his eyes were similar to Morgan’s. He also had the Seaton dark hair—hair Morgan himself hadn’t inherited.
“Ryan Seaton’s brother?” she asked.
Irvin nodded.
So he was related to the former high priest for the Pacific Northwest. Brook had met Ryan Seaton multiple times before he’d died but she couldn’t recall ever meeting this man.
They lapsed into silence while Brook considered his threat level. From his middle-aged appearance she gathered he was Morgan’s father’s younger brother. He had an amiable look to him but looks were rarely a marker for one’s true nature.
Irvin’s concern for Morgan’s safety was admirable. Perhaps Ryan had asked his brother to watch over his son when he passed. Knowing Morgan’s past, the guy could use all the help he could get.
Irvin broke the brief silence. “I apologize for the chilly welcome. Morgan has been a bit…stressed lately. And he doesn’t like to ask for help.” The older man chuckled softly. “We have to force it on him for his own good.”
Apparently little had changed over the years.
“We’ve never worked with—”
Morgan’s return interrupted the small talk. Brook was only partially dismayed. Small talk wasn’t anything she enjoyed but she enjoyed Morgan’s presence less.
“The police have taken them away,” Morgan said as he scraped dirt off his shoes onto the rough mat inside the door. Though his eyes were on Brook, he spoke to them both. “Mira is returning to Chicago.” His attention switched to Irvin across the room. “You should as well.”
Brook’s shoulders stiffened involuntarily. From a security standpoint the situation would improve if Morgan sent his employees away. She knew this. It was the prospect of being alone with Morgan for days that didn’t particularly appeal. The only reason she hadn’t throttled him a dozen times in their youth had been the proximity of one of his family members. Who would stop her now?
Irvin’s knowing smile increased. He nodded eagerly. And then he started toward the back office.
Brook worked hard to battle down her unease. It was unlike her to experience any emotions apart from determination and impatience while working an assignment. She was experiencing a slew of them now.
This wasn’t a good start.
* * * * *
Morgan readjusted his collar for the second time as Brook inspected the bedroom. It was the nicest guest room in the cottage. And it was beside his.
“There are other rooms,” he said, “if you’d prefer something else. I assumed you’d want the one beside mine in case…” Morgan couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. It was unreal to think someone wanted to hurt him—he who had done nothing but try to help people for as long as he could recall.
“In case someone tries to kill you in the middle of the night,” Brook said tonelessly. Before he could react she went on. “The security in this house is inadequate. You have more windows than walls. The majority of them are bare or have filmy coverings that might as well be transparent. Anyone with a rifle and a scope could pick you off without getting their hands dirty.” She craned her neck back for a look at him. “Do you have any other residences?”
Security had never been a concern in the high priest’s home until now. Violent upheavals were for the Fire witches. Water witches simply bickered until someone threw a tantrum and stormed out. Had he pissed off any Fire witches lately?
Morgan shook his head. “I rented out my condo.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “Then we’ll have to make do for now. Show me where you sleep.”
Warmth flushed through his cheeks and down his neck. To his shame it kept right on going, stirring his cock. He turned away before she’d see the reaction.
Brook was close on his heels on the trip next door. Morgan couldn’t help but watch her as she moved around the space moments later, looking for who knew what. Though he wasn’t particularly messy, he certainly wasn’t tidy. The discarded jeans, T-shirts and cargo shorts on the floor weren’t impressive, nor was the unmade bed.
But what did she expect? Irvin had blindsided him with this Ranger business. Had he known a female would visit his bedroom this afternoon, he would have put things away.
It disturbed him to note just how female she was. Had she always looked like this? Or had his perception of her changed?
She’d been twenty-six the last time he’d seen her—a brief run-in at his father’s vacation house he’d almost forgotten. Surely he’d have noted the toned muscles in her arms, the swell of her hips and those rounded peaks… He forced himself to look away.
“Are there any bedrooms without windows?” she asked without looking at him. “Or with windows that face a neighbor’s house?”
“The bedrooms all have lake views.”
“Let me rephrase the question,” she said almost impatiently as
she half turned toward him. “Are there any rooms that could be turned into a bedroom that are more secure than this one? For example a den with no windows or a den with windows facing a nearby house.” Brook offered up an explanation before he requested one. “The shorter the space your enemy has to work with, the easier it is for one of us to sense their intent before they make a move with a ranged weapon.”
“I wish there were. The only room that has a window facing a neighbor is the kitchen. Every other has either a lake view, a bay window facing the road or is too small to fit a bed.”
Brook’s lips tightened. He could sense the irritation flowing off her without an empathic link, because it was an extreme emotion. She thought they’d been negligent. Against all reason, Morgan was embarrassed.
She brushed past him with three long strides. “Then we work on making this one secure. Show me any spare wood you have. If you have none, then show me to your linen closet.”
When the first thing that came to mind was the discomfort in his pants, Morgan knew this was the beginning of the longest night in his entire life.
Chapter Three
They couldn’t have lived in the cottage for more than a few months. Nonetheless Brook couldn’t rid herself of her unreasonable frustration. Morgan had claimed there was no wood to be had yet a quick visit to the garage had yielded enough plywood to temporarily fortify the windows in his bedroom as well as extra for the door. And he’d been no help when she’d needed nails and a hammer.
What sort of male didn’t know where the hammer was located in his house? Certainly the sort who needed a Ranger to clean up his messes.
Brook was glad Morgan had rushed to his home office despite its lack of security. He’d have seen her disgusted expression if he’d remained. She wasn’t about to apologize for thinking he was deficient as a male. Yet the fact that he had escaped rather than help tack up the plywood hadn’t improved her opinion of him.
After the wood was secured to Brook’s satisfaction, she settled down on the floor beneath the window. She’d need several minutes of concerted effort to banish her ill will toward her client.
Though he was sniveling, weak and naïve, as his appointed Ranger she had a duty to uphold. It didn’t matter that she didn’t believe him worthy of the position he held or that this hardship ought to pave the way for a priest who could handle the burden. She would protect him because she’d accepted the task.
Brook’s meditation on the matter stretched from her usual five minutes into sections of an hour. His cool ocean scent had managed to cling to every surface in his room. She couldn’t inhale without being reminded of summers on the Pacific Coast. The distraction made true meditation impossible. Brook breathed through her mouth and tried harder.
Could she truly find a solution for this situation? Never before had she been so disappointed in a client as she was today. And Morgan had done little more than fail to know the contents of the house he’d inherited and rush off to his office to avoid manual labor. Where was the indifference she was famed for among the more emotionally charged Rangers?
The answer would be to simply solve the riddle of Morgan’s assassins rather than delve into her unfortunate emotions. Brook concentrated on the task at hand.
* * * * *
Morgan set his head onto his palm as a weary sigh expelled from his chest. “Priestesses,” he said when the bickering on the other end of the speakerphone heightened. “We have been at this for the past hour and forty minutes with no headway. I motion we table the discussion for the night and pick it back up tomorrow after we’ve had a decent night’s rest and a good meal.”
“You’re the boss,” one of the priestesses said.
A second priestess wasn’t half as accommodating, however. “I specifically scheduled this conference call for after dinner so that we’d all be rested and fed! It’s beyond rude that you…”
Morgan was no longer listening to her complaints. Brook was on her way through the house. He’d sensed the shifting of her emotions from frustrated and disgusted to calm determination during the past half hour. Calm determination was worrying when he considered the source. What would a calmly determined Brook do?
When she appeared at the doorway looking as though hauling and nailing plywood to his bedroom walls had been effortless, he decided it was time to take the call firmly in hand.
“Priestesses, please take this opportunity to formulate your two most pressing issues. Send them to the digital list no earlier than tomorrow at eight in the morning. We will hold another conference call at ten Indiana time.”
If he didn’t limit his priestesses to their most pressing problems, they would hold him hostage on a conference call for weeks. By forcing them to hold on to their issues until tomorrow morning, he asked them to put several hours of thought into the items they chose. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t eventually address all of their concerns, it was simply that some would have to wait. He was only one man.
Morgan uttered a polite parting greeting before the females could argue. “Blessings of Neptune upon you.” And then he pressed his speakerphone’s disconnect button. Already his full attention was focused on the female who stood just inside the office door.
“You didn’t have to end the call on my account.”
The delivery sounded stilted, as if she didn’t believe the words she spoke. But his empathic link to her—a link she hadn’t disconnected in the hours since the others had left—said she was still determined. Her icy eyes had him locked beneath their unnerving gaze. He struggled not to fidget uncomfortably. Morgan needed to recycle his discomfort and disquiet into a useful emotion. He hadn’t the first idea what that emotion would be.
“I didn’t end it on your account. We’d been going round in circles.” Morgan set his hands atop each other. “What can I do for you, Ranger Calder?”
“We need to sign the Ranger-client agreement.” After a beat she said, “Do you have a few minutes to go over it?”
Morgan dumbly stared at her. Did he have a few minutes? For her?
He was torn on how to answer. While it was an epically bad idea to ask her, of all witches, to protect him from this unknown threat, he couldn’t deny she’d handled the recent incident better than he could have. And that meant he owed her at least a few minutes of his time.
“Yes, of course,” he said after little more than a second’s pause. He joined her in the left portion of the office, gesturing toward his small meeting table as he moved.
The table was deliberately small. As evidenced by the conference call he’d recently ended, it was rarely a good idea to have more than two other Water witches involved in any important decision. They allowed their feelings to cloud their judgment, especially if too many emotions flowed in proximity.
Brook’s crinkled expression as she neared the table suggested she didn’t approve of his furniture choice. Nevertheless she pulled a carefully folded piece of paper out of her pocket before she dropped into the chair opposite him. She unfurled the sheet and then set it before him. Morgan scanned the words even as she spoke them aloud in her husky voice.
“This contract signifies that I, Ranger Brook Calder, will do everything in my power—short of violating the basic tenants spoken in my oath of fealty—to protect the client, Priest Morgan Seaton, from those who would seek to harm him.”
She didn’t have to explain the oaths she’d mentioned were those to be faithful to her priest and the coven at large.
“That I, Ranger Brook Calder, will work within the laws and codes of Neptune’s Rangers to discover the malefactor responsible for the client’s unfortunate situation.” She paused, gesturing to the bottom portion of the contract. “This contract signifies that you, Priest Morgan Seaton, will grant the Ranger, Brook Calder, full access to your homes, your businesses, your covens, your family and your acquaintances in the pursuit of justice beneath the laws and codes of Neptune’s Rangers.”
Morgan needed to get his hands on a copy of these Ranger “laws and codes
”. He didn’t like signing a contract agreeing to let Brook into his life based on a set of codes he’d never read.
Brook spoke words that weren’t written on the paper. “A Ranger vows to put the safety of his or her client above all else. And though asked to work closely with clients, a Ranger vows never to get personally involved in his or her client’s affairs. A Ranger also vows to keep his or her interaction with the client on a strictly professional level.” She stopped for a long moment before asking, “Do you understand this agreement and these rules, Priest Seaton?”
Seeing Brook attempt to behave professionally might be worth forgoing the need to read these laws and codes.
He grabbed a ballpoint pen as he gave her a pleasant smile that sent a flare of irritation through her.
Brook gritted her teeth as she folded the signed agreement. Morgan was smiling. Signing a Ranger’s contract was no smiling matter. He meant to irritate her. And Neptune in the sea, it was working.
She shoved the agreement into her pocket as she jumped to her feet. “When do you sleep?” The words were terse with annoyance she was unable to squash.
Rather than answer, the priest leaned farther into his chair. He let a grin wash over his face until he positively gloated. “Feel free to take a nap or go to bed whenever you like. I know you must be tired from your trip.”
“My trip was from the Western portion of the country where it is only now seven in the evening,” she said before she could temper her tight tone. “I need to know when you sleep so I know how long I have left to secure the bedroom before we go to bed.”
His expression lost a small bit of its amusement. “Midnight until seven.”
“You had better not sleepwalk,” Brook said. “Because if you step on me in the night, I’ll give it back in kind when you’re awake.”
“Step on you?” His eyes crinkled gently, the crinkling soon spreading wide into an expression of pure shock. Gone was his vexing grin, replaced by a gaping mouth. “You’re not going to…” His voice trailed off without finishing the horrified question.
