"Gwen. Gwen Mosely, and it's Miss."
That pleased him far more than it should. "I would offer to shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment."
When she made no move to untie him, he tried again. "I won't hurt you, Miss Mosely. If you'll just untie me, I'll leave and never bother you again."
Preferably without answering any of the questions she was likely to start asking, ones he couldn't answer.
"My dogs found you last night, and my brother and I brought you up to the house."
He could imagine what shape he'd been in when they found him. After a fierce fight, he'd managed to escape from the Others, but he hadn't expected to live through the night.
"Thank you."
"You were a bloody mess." Her eyes darkened. "I don't suppose you'll tell me how you came to be in that condition."
"You suppose right." With the toll healing took on his body, he simply didn't have the energy to think up a believable lie. "You don't want to know the details."
"Well, yes, actually I do." She leaned forward, as if to encourage him to start talking.
He went on the attack. "Why didn't you call the authorities? Or are you in the habit of taking in wounded strangers and tying them up?"
Her fair skin flushed. "I thought about calling Sheriff Cooper, but he would have insisted on calling an ambulance. I didn't think you'd want the local medical authorities to get their hands on you. A man with your particular abilities could end up as a lab rat somewhere."
His stomach clenched. She was right—but her reaction to his ability to heal didn't make sense. Unless she knew more about Paladin physiology than any civilian had any business knowing.
"I would have survived the experience." Short of a head shot or amputation, he could survive almost anything, but she didn't know that. Or shouldn't.
"My mistake, then. Next time I find you cut to shreds and half-drowned, I'll save myself a lot of work and call 9-1-1." She had a redhead's temper, all right.
He tried his most winning smile. "Did I forget to thank you? This is a far more pleasant wake-up than I expected to have."
She wasn't buying it. "Save the charm for someone who might fall for it, Mr. Donahue."
He couldn't help laughing. "Okay, but the gratitude was sincere. I really do appreciate what you did for me." He tugged at his ropes again. "Now, can you cut me loose?"
She gave him a slow nod. "On one condition. You stay for breakfast and meet my brother."
That seemed like a simple enough request, but was it? What difference did it make if he met her brother or not? Maybe he should find out.
"Deal."
She smiled. "Good." She began working on the ropes before she spoke again. "There's a bathroom down the hall on the right. I'll lay out towels and a toothbrush for you. Your clothes are clean—well, your jeans and socks are. I'm afraid your shirt was beyond salvaging. My brother is about your size, though, so you can wear one of his shirts."
So her brother was full-grown. If he was an adult, though, why would he let his sister stand guard rather than do it himself? They had no way of knowing whether he was a good guy or a bad guy, and he'd give her brother an earful on the subject.
He remained still until she finished untying him, not wanting to startle her with any sudden moves. When she stepped away from the bed with her two dogs flanking her, he slowly sat up. Other than a few sore spots, he was well on his way to mending.
When he swung his legs over the side of the bed, she actually blushed and backed farther away. He grabbed the sheet to cover himself up. In the lab, he was used to waking up stark naked with a serious woody and thinking nothing of it. But from the way she kept her gaze strictly on his face, she wasn't used to strange men walking around her house in their underwear, aroused or otherwise.
"I, um, I'll go get your things." She beat a hasty retreat.
Once she left the room, he picked up his cell phone from next to his wallet and called headquarters to check in. They sounded relieved to hear from him, but he didn't fool himself that they really cared. His permanent death might even come as a relief to some of the Regents, considering how often he was in their face over how they treated the local Paladins.
The good news was that the barrier had finally stabilized during the night. The mop-up campaign was nearly complete, and everyone had orders to stand down for the next couple of days.
Jarvis hung up, then headed down the hallway to the bathroom. After a hot shower, he'd ask his hostess a few pointed questions of his own.
Gwen heard the shower shut off. She flipped the pancakes on the griddle and decided she should make half a dozen more. Chase ate like a bottomless pit lately, and considering Jarvis Donahue's size and that he was coming off a night of intense healing, cooking three times the normal number of pancakes, scrambling a dozen eggs, and frying a pound of bacon should be enough. Maybe.
The coffeepot had stopped perking, and a pitcher of orange juice was already sitting on the table. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, then caught herself patting her hair to make sure it was tidy.
What was she thinking? Granted this guy was good-looking, but he wasn't the kind of man for a woman like her. Even if he did make her hormones sit up and take notice.
It had been a long time since she'd enjoyed the company of a man, in bed or out of it. She'd been responsible for raising her brother ever since she was twenty and he was ten. Keeping a roof over their heads and meals on the table had taken most of her energy; she'd had very little left over for something as frivolous as a boyfriend.
Keeping the farm had been a wise choice; now it offered Chase a sanctuary from the outside world that sometimes felt too small and confining for him. He was becoming increasingly aggressive and short-tempered, especially around boys his own age. Keeping him buried under a stack of chores all summer had drastically reduced the number of complaints about his behavior, but she dreaded what would happen when school started up again.
She listened to the sound of her unexpected guest moving around in the bathroom. For the first time, she might find some answers to the question of what made Chase that way. If this stranger shared other characteristics and had found a way to master his volatile nature, then there was hope for her brother.
The footsteps overhead meant Chase was up and moving, too. Good. It would be interesting to see how the two males reacted to each other.
The bathroom door opened, and she quickly added the pancakes to the stack in the oven, then set the warm platter on the table.
Jarvis walked into the kitchen and instantly the room seemed to shrink in size. Although there was no aggression in his stance, it was like watching a large predator establishing its territory. He had to still be hurting from the worst of his injuries, but there was no sign of it in the flex and play of his muscles under Chase's shirt. And Jarvis filled out that T-shirt in a whole different way than her brother did.
Had the temperature in the room just jumped up twenty degrees?
Jarvis came to an abrupt stop when he saw the table. His dark eyes lit up, and his mouth curved up in a slow grin. "Maybe I did die and go to heaven. Tell me you didn't go to all that trouble for me? Although I'm not complaining a bit."
"I have a teenager in the house, Mr. Donahue. Cooking for him is almost a full-time job." Still, his reaction pleased her no end. Chase blindly ate anything that she set in front of him; having a more appreciative audience was an experience to be savored.
"Please have a seat while I pour the coffee."
He pulled out the nearest chair and sank down into it, moving a little gingerly.
"Would you like a couple of aspirin or something?"
"No, I'm better off without taking anything. I should be back to normal in another day or so." He added three teaspoons of sugar to his coffee before taking a big gulp of the scalding liquid.
"Go ahead and serve yourself. Chase should be along shortly."
"Aren't you going to sit down, too?"
He made no move eat
until she took the seat opposite him. She'd chosen it because it was the farthest away from Jarvis, not trusting the way she was reacting to his proximity, but now she had no choice but to look straight across the table at him.
He was already pouring a generous amount of maple syrup over the huge stack of pancakes on his plate. Adding a sizeable serving of eggs and several strips of bacon, he looked like man intent on doing some serious eating after a long, lean period.
The two of them ate in a companionable silence for several minutes until Chase came pounding down the stairs. When he entered, Jarvis stopped chewing and stared at the teenager with something like shock before he quickly schooled his features to a more neutral look.
He definitely knew something, and she wasn't going to let him get by with keeping it to himself.
"Chase, this is Jarvis Donahue. Mr. Donahue, my brother Chase."
Jarvis immediately set down his fork and stood up. He held out his hand to Chase and smiled. "Make it just plain Jarvis. I've already thanked your sister for taking me in last night, but I know she couldn't have done it without your help. I appreciate it."
Chase's eyes flickered in her direction, waiting for her slight nod before accepting Jarvis's outstretched hand. "You look a helluva lot better this morning than you did last night."
Jarvis grinned. "I'm sure those hounds of yours have dragged in better looking specimens than me." He sat down and picked up his fork again. "Sorry for starting without you, Chase, but it's been a long time since I've had home cooking."
He was a charmer all right, but his remark still pleased her. Once again silence descended on the table as the two males concentrated on stuffing their faces. Oddly, it felt very comfortable to have this total stranger join them for a meal.
As usual, Chase was the first one done eating.
He pushed his plate away and stood up. "Nice meeting you, Jarvis. Glad you lived."
She sighed. "Chase, I swear, one of these days…"
He just grinned. "See you later, Sis. I promised Mr. James I'd help him load the hay in the back field today."
"Okay. Be home for dinner by six."
"Will do." Then he whistled for the dogs and tore out of the house, letting the door slam shut behind him.
She loved her brother dearly and enjoyed having him around. However, that didn't mean she wasn't grateful that he'd found part-time work with the neighbor for the summer. It kept him in spending money and gave him something constructive to do with his time and overabundance of energy.
Jarvis finished his own meal. "That was terrific, Miss Mosely. If I ate like that every day, I wouldn't be able to fit through the door."
"Please call me Gwen."
He nodded as he picked up his plate and headed for the sink.
"I can clean up in here later. Please sit down."
"Let me earn my keep, Gwen. It won't kill me to do a few dishes."
He cleared the table with quick efficiency, leaving her nothing to do but sip her coffee and enjoy the view.
He hoped Gwen never took up poker for a living. She'd starve to death, because every thought was right there on her expressive face. Right now, she was working herself up to ask him something important.
When he'd been in the shower, he'd tried to figure out why she hadn't gone to the police when she'd found a half-dead stranger in the woods. Especially one whose wounds had closed up and healed in a matter of hours.
But one look at her younger brother had answered that question. He was a dead ringer for a Paladin who'd served in the area just about the time Chase would have been born. Chase might not know it, but one day soon he'd be picking up a sword and learning to fight. If he didn't, his life would be hell, and his pretty sister would suffer right along with him. It was obvious that the two siblings were close, and Gwen wouldn't like hearing her brother was a born warrior destined to die over and over again, fighting the same secret war that Jarvis did.
It was a bitch of a way to live, but it was written in their blood and their bones. Somewhere in their past, alien beings called Others from a dark world had crossed into this one and left their mark on the human gene pool. It was ironic that those distant ancestors had helped create the Paladins, whose job was to drive the Others back into the darkness of their own world.
While Jarvis kept his hands busy drying dishes, he tried to decide how much he could safely tell Gwen about her brother. Not much. He would also have to insinuate himself into their lives long enough to get Chase started on the path to becoming a fully trained Paladin, without his sister realizing what he was up to.
Being around Gwen certainly wouldn't be any hardship. The problem would be to avoid any messy emotional entanglements. He was too old, too tired, and too close to the end to get involved with a woman, no matter how tempted he was to find out if she had freckles all over that luscious, creamy skin. The mere thought made him harden.
Great—how was he supposed to hide his erection now? He turned away from the sink and dried his hands on the dishtowel, keeping the terrycloth in front of him until he was safely seated at the table. Stretching out his legs, he leaned back and waited for the inquisition to begin.
It didn't take long.
Gwen's green eyes looked troubled. "You were pretty badly hurt last night," she began.
"Yeah, I was."
"Bloody and cut to pieces." She worried her lower lip with her teeth while she waited for him to respond.
"I don't remember much about it, but I'll take your word for it." He wasn't about to tell her that he'd been fighting a pack of ravening monsters within spitting distance of her backyard.
"Yet here you are, no more than twelve hours later, with barely a scratch on you."
"True." He reached behind him to snag the coffeepot and refilled his mug. "Want some?"
There was a small flash of temper in the way she shook her head. She suspected he was toying with her, and she was right. Maybe he should just answer the question she was dancing around.
"You and your brother had different fathers, didn't you?" He dumped sugar into his coffee and stirred it.
She looked puzzled. "Yes, but how did you know that? Other than hair color, we have many common features."
"Because Chase is the very image of an old acquaintance of mine. He had that same black hair and bright blue eyes. And I'd guess when Chase finishes filling out that frame of his, he'll be as big as his daddy was."
Just as he'd intended, he'd shocked her.
"What did your mother tell you about Chase's dad?" he asked.
Sadness settled on Gwen's shoulders. "Not much. She never told us even who he was, but he hurt her pretty badly. I was just shy of ten when she met him. For the first time since my father died, she seemed happy. She would get all dressed up and go out to meet him somewhere, so I never even saw him. Then all of sudden, Mom quit going anywhere. She'd just stare at the phone as if willing it to ring, but it never did. Then a few months later, she gave birth to Chase."
The dates fit. "His name was Harvey Fletcher, and he was a good man. It wasn't that he didn't want to call your mother; he couldn't. He died almost exactly eighteen years ago."
To his horror, Gwen's eyes filled with tears. "I wish someone would've let my mother know. At least she could've grieved for his passing, rather than spending the last years of her life waiting for him to walk back through the door."
"I'm sorry, too. I'd guess no one knew about your mother's involvement with Harvey. But from what I remember about him, he would never have willingly abandoned his son." He leaned over and put his hand over hers in comfort.
She stared at their hands. "Did this Harvey person heal like you do? Like Chase does?"
"Yes, Harvey had that same ability."
She nodded as if she'd already guessed that would be the answer. "Were you and he related?"
Now there was a question. He couldn't very well tell her that they shared alien DNA. "Only very distantly."
She ran her hand over the table, smoothing a cou
ple of wrinkles in the tablecloth. Evidently she had another question but wasn't sure how to go about asking it.
"Gwen, just spit it out, whatever it is."
"Chase gets into a lot of fights, especially with boys his own age. The trouble is, he's so much bigger than most of them that folks are afraid he's going to kill somebody one of these days. It's better in the summer, when he's not shut up in school all day, but he's getting less able to tolerate crowds of any kind."
Boy, did that sound familiar. If the Regents hadn't found Jarvis when they did and brought him into the Paladin organization, he had little doubt that he would have ended up in prison. Chase's sister was smart to realize the boy needed help.
"Have you thought about getting him involved in martial arts? The discipline helped me learn self-control." Coupled with weapons training, the Regents had honed his innate urge to fight into a lethal combination designed solely for killing Others.
"Is it expensive?"
Here was his in with the family. "To get him started, just to see if he likes the sport, I'd be glad to work with him."
She considered the idea for all of two seconds before shaking her head. "I couldn't ask that of you, but thank you for offering."
"Why not?"
Her fair skin flushed with embarrassment. "Because I can't afford to pay you, and charity doesn't set well with me."
Pride was something he could understand, even if it was misplaced. "I wasn't asking for money, Gwen. Someone did the same thing for me when I was about Chase's age. It saved my sanity, so I'm just passing along the favor."
Pursing her lips, she slowly nodded. "All right, I'll talk to him and see if he's interested. If he is, how can I get in touch with you?"
"I'll give you my cell phone number. It's good day or night."
At least he'd planted the seeds. If they didn't take, he'd have to think of some other excuse to return to the Mosely farm. A new Paladin wasn't something to be wasted; there were too few of them as it was. He had a duty to the Regents organization to recruit a new warrior. It had nothing to do with the boy's sister, much less her red hair and those adorable freckles.
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