Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles

by Leigh Morgan

  “Don’t remind me.” Shay groaned. He tilted his head back and reset the cartilage himself, the resounding crunch combined with Shay’s painfully whispered fuck me had Jesse cringing in empathy.

  “Why did you let Taryn hit you?” Reed asked, wiping rapidly drying blood from Shay’s face. When he didn’t answer quickly enough Reed poked him in the ribs. Jesse ducked his head, hiding his smile.

  “Ouch. Give me a break, Red. You didn’t break my floating ribs, but you sure as hell bruised a few.”

  Reed looked more satisfied than sorry. “Don’t whine, Irishman. It’s unbecoming. Just answer the bloody question.” Jesse rolled his eyes at his mother’s terrible imitation of Shay’s Irish lilt.

  “I should have just ducked behind you, but it wasn’t worth the effort to stoop that low.” Shay’s voice sounded strained. His blood-clotted nasal passages weren’t letting air through, and Jesse knew he was pain.

  Used to Reed and Shay trading insults like twelve-year-olds, Jesse gave them a moment to get it out of their adrenaline-ridden systems. He filled a glass of water from the kitchen, set it on the counter and opened the first-aid kit. He pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen, cotton balls, gauze, rubbing alcohol, butterfly bandages, a surgical scissors and most importantly a roll of duct tape, throwing it all in a hammock he’d made of his shirt. Grabbing the glass of water in his free hand Jesse went back to where Shay was seated.

  He handed Shay three ibuprofen and the glass of water. Shay popped the pills, swallowing them with obvious difficulty. Shay eyed Jesse’s small pile of medical supplies wearily as Jesse emptied the contents of his shirt onto the towel. Jesse waited for Shay’s nod before he cut three lengths of duct tape, opened one of the butterfly bandages, a package of tubular condensed cotton and started his down and dirty version of triage. The scent of rubbing alcohol permeated the dojo, mixing with the scent of perspiration and the coppery essence of blood. Not unusual, but never a pleasant mix.

  Jesse worked quickly and efficiently. When he was done, Shay had cotton tubing in each nostril, three narrow bands of duct tape and a butterfly bandage holding his battered cartilage in place, a pile of bloody cotton balls littered the floor. The whole procedure took only a few minutes.

  “That ought to keep you beautiful until the doc can fix you up right.”

  “Women love a bruised and battered man. It gives them something to ooh and ahh over.” Shay wasn’t sound convinced.

  “Shut up and tell me why you let my daughter pop you when you don’t let anyone near your perfect face, or I’ll give you more than messed up cartilage to worry about.” Judging by Reed’s tone, she wasn’t kidding.

  Sensei, who’d been silently observing spoke before Shay could, surprising Jesse. He’d almost forgotten Sensei was still there. “Shay let himself get hit because he feels guilty every time he hurts you and today he hurt you. Laid it on a bit thick too, if you ask me, but he did that for Taryn’s benefit, and for yours.”

  Sensei took a step forward and looked at Reed, half loving father, half exasperated teacher instructing a dim-witted student. “Shay knows the danger Taryn is in and he loves you enough to want to ensure she comes home to you safely. We each tried to push her into taking care of herself. Stupid all the way around. At least O’Shay’s nose is no longer a virgin to the pugilistic arts.” Sensei smiled and then laughed at his joke, before he continued. “Shay’s predictable and transparent.”

  “Thank you, Sensei.”

  Sensei ignored Shay as he would a pesky fly. “The better question is why your daughter felt compelled to hit him. She’s smart enough to know Shay could take her apart in less than a second if he wanted to. Still she hit him. Head on. No pretense. And, she waited for him to retaliate.”

  Judging by her expression, Reed didn’t get it, neither did Shay, but Jesse suddenly did. The truth hit him with a sudden burst of clarity and he knew he had to find Taryn. He needed to hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright. He needed to tell her that she already owned a piece of his heart.

  “Taryn drew blood because Shay made her confront the fact that she cares about Reed more than she can consciously admit. Shay made Taryn come face to face with the fact that Reed is her mother and she can’t stomach the thought of Reed being hurt. That thought made her heart bleed. Blood for blood.” Jesse shrugged. “Simple really. Makes sense to me.”

  Shay said, “Or, she just doesn’t like me.”

  Jesse laughed. “That’s not an ‘or’ brother, that’s an ‘and’.”

  Reed looked as if her whole world had just opened and given her something even more wonderful than she’d ever thought possible. “If that’s true, I’ll take it. Not a bad result for a morning in the ring.”

  Shay tried to laugh, but the effort cost him and he wound up coughing instead. “Glad my face could be of service, my lady.”

  Jesse didn’t wait for Reed’s inevitable reply. He had a doctor to call and a wife to find.

  …

  Taryn left Jesse’s house and just started walking, without direction or thought beyond getting gone. The morning was still young, mist was rolling off the pond and with every step the day was getting brighter. She spotted a pier over the pond and she headed toward it.

  Looking down into the still water where water bugs hugged the surface, dimpling but not breaking the surface, as they made their way across, Taryn contemplated the hash her life had become. If only she could move through life as gently, never breaking through the surface, never having to deal with the murky and uncertain depths below.

  Looking down was a mistake. It brought her face to face with the blood splatter on Jesse’s gi. The gi he’d shared with her. She knew it held special meaning for him and she’d ruined it. She took the top off, folded it and set it gently on the bank of the pond. There was splatter on the pants as well, but she ignored it. She’d launder both pieces as soon as she could stomach human company again.

  Taryn picked a handful of small stones from the bank and set them on the pier edge. She rolled up her pants, sat next to the stones and dangled her feet in the water. She was so engrossed in self-pity: pity for her calloused feet, her bloodied borrowed gi, her state of aloneness, her new-found inner gangster that she didn’t hear her father-in-law approach until he plopped down beside her. It irked her that he did so far more elegantly than she had. She silently added uncoordinated to her self-pity litany.

  “I know that look.” Jordon Bennett said, amiably, as he picked up a stone from her pile and effortless skipped it five times. No mean feat with such a small stone. But then, Taryn thought, most things probably came pretty easily to a man of Jordon’s economic ease, especially one who looked like him. His dark hair was salted with silver at the temples, overly long to be considered conservative or fashionable, but so thick and shiny there was little doubt women of every age would love to run their fingers through it.

  Taryn chanced a quick look at Jordon trying to read his mood. He looked at her and grinned as if reading her thoughts. When she felt her face scalding, his warm brown eyes twinkled at her, embarrassing her further. She’d had her fill of over-confident handsome men who seemed to charge the air around them with tangible sex appeal. She scowled, turned away from him and tossed the whole pile of stones into the water.

  “You enjoy using your looks to throw people off, don’t you?” She asked, sounding as surly as she felt.

  “Yes. Most of the time I enjoy it very much.”

  She knew he was smiling, she could feel it, but she didn’t want to look at him again. He didn’t seem to be offended by her and he didn’t seem to want to fight with her either. Taryn’s shoulders sagged. She was suddenly bone tired.

  “You, however, were off as you put it, before I got here. Usually only my son or that damned Irishman have this effect on women. Sometimes I have that effect too, but usually only with Reed.” He laughed so warmly, Taryn had to take his measure. The laugh turned to a grin and Taryn caught a glimpse of the lady-killer he must have be
en before his marriage to Reed. “Most other women find me charming.”

  Taryn made a very unladylike snort, and instantly felt her mood lighten. There was nothing unapproachable about Jordon and she got the feeling that no matter how hard she tried she wasn’t going to alienate him.

  “I don’t.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Reed doesn’t either. Must be something in your blood.” Jordon scratched his chin. “Yep, that’s gotta be it. Your Aunt Finn doesn’t much care for my charm either. In fact, she hated me for quite a while. Bennett charm must not work on Mohr women.”

  “Is that your not so subtle way of reminding me that I’m biologically related to your wife and so far I’ve been a shit about it?”

  “Tossing that pile of stones was certainly juvenile.”

  Taryn gave a surprised laugh that caught in her throat. “If you think that was juvenile, you should have seen me about twenty minutes ago. I behaved like a second grade bully on the playground.”

  Jordon put an arm around her shoulders and she was feeling badly enough about her behavior not to shuck it off. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “No, it was worse.” Taryn sighed heavily and turned slightly so she could look at him while she attempted to muddle through what just happened, hoping he didn’t decide to kick her out before breakfast. So far he was proving pretty accepting, but that could change with her next revelation.

  “I hit someone when they weren’t expecting it. I meant to do damage…and I did.” Her eyes began to tear with warm saline, surprising her more than Jordon. His jaw tightened at her words, but his eyes remained warm.

  “Who, exactly was this unsuspecting person who is now, er, damaged?”

  Taryn closed her eyes.

  “What happened, Taryn? Just say it, sweetheart, before it eats you up anymore.” Jordon’s voice was soft, welcoming even, but Taryn sensed urgency in it that hadn’t been there before.

  Taryn opened her eyes, squared her shoulders and pretended to be brave. “I hauled off and punched Shay in his perfect face. I broke his nose. He didn’t see it coming. I didn’t warn him. I went right up to him and cold-cocked him. Hard. His face isn’t so perfect anymore and it’s my fault.” Tears slid from the corners of her eyes and she sniffed loudly. “And I got blood all over Jesse’s gi. That was the first present he ever got, Sensei told me. Reed gave it to him…and…and I ruined it.”

  Jordon was silent. An incredulous stillness filled the morning air. Taryn wiped her tears away roughly with the back of her hands almost as embarrassed by them as she was by her half-hiccupped confession. Then the pier started to shake. Softly at first, then gaining momentum as the sound of Jordon’s uncontrollable laughter made its way into her emotion fogged brain.

  She pushed away from him just enough to see his face. Her eyes confirmed what her ears heard. Jordon was laughing, loud enough now to wake the fish. The man could barely contain himself. Madmen, one and all.

  “Shay…Shay.” He had to start again he was laughing so hard. “Shay let you smash his face?” Jordon slapped the pier repeatedly, his laughter getting louder.

  Taryn narrowed her eyes as she studied him. He kept slapping and laughing. The man was going to pull something if he kept this up. She was coming to the conclusion that her mother’s husband wasn’t too bright.

  “I don’t think you’re getting the picture here, Jordon. I hauled off and hit the poor man before he knew what was happening. He’s bloody. Did you miss that part?”

  He held up his palm. Then more laughter. Then he seemed to calm a bit, but he’d laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes too. The fact that she’d thought he’d lost what little sense he had must have been apparent because he forced himself to calm, although he wasn’t able to tone down his brilliant smile or the mirth in his eyes.

  “That wise-ass Irishman was way too pretty anyway. Maybe now he won’t look like such a candy-ass.” Jordon shook his head. “All those times I sparred with that acrobat and I’ve never come close to that nose.” Jordon covered his eyes with one hand, holding his temples with a thumb and middle finger for a moment before he met her eyes again. “That was quite a shot, honey.”

  Taryn stood, not understanding what Jordon was trying to tell her, not sure she wanted to follow if he was indeed leading her anywhere. Jordon sobered, seeming to sense her anxiety.

  “Tell me why you hit him.”

  “He hit my moth…” Taryn swallowed hard under Jordon’s scrutiny. “He hit, ah…Reed.”

  Jordon’s eyebrows scrunched together in what Taryn took to be a frown, but he looked more confused than worried. She used small words and spoke slowly. She didn’t want to confuse him further, or worse yet make him laugh again.

  “I hit Shay because he hit my…he hit Reed before she was ready. He hit her again and again, hard and fast.”

  Jordon stood in one fluid motion, his gaze as sharp as a peregrine’s. She had seriously underestimated Jordon’s powers of cognition. This man was no fool. “Is she alright?”

  The transition in his demeanor, from affable to intense, made Taryn take a step back. “Reed had her foot on his throat a few seconds after that. I think she probably broke one or two of Shay’s ribs as well.” Taryn shrugged, hearing her words, acknowledging Reed had the situation in control after the first few moves.

  Jordon visibly relaxed and his crooked smile, which Taryn had to admit she found pretty damn charming, was firmly back in place. He looked down at her and shook his head, affection glowing in his light brown eyes, his tone mildly self-deprecating when he said, “I’m painfully familiar with that particular move.”

  Then, before she could protest, Jordon pulled Taryn into a quick, but full hug that conveyed acceptance, real warmth, and affection. Taryn couldn’t think of one good reason she was worthy of any of those things. Jordon pushed away almost as quickly as he pulled Taryn to him. Holding her by her shoulders, Jordon looked deeply into her eyes, smiling openly.

  “Taryn Campbell Mohr-Bennett, you are going to fit in here just fine. Potter’s Woods is lucky to have you. So is my son.”

  He pulled her to him again, gave her a fatherly kiss on the top of her head, and then took off at a lope toward Jesse’s house. The odd man was laughing again, muttering something about smart-ass Irishmen finally paying the piper. When Jordon was about twenty feet away, he turned back to Taryn and shouted gleefully. “Oh, and Taryn, don’t worry about the gi. Jesse won’t mind a little blood on it, especially if it came from Shay’s nose.” He gave a little wave and was off again.

  Crazy. They are all certifiable and I jumped right in, drank the Kool-Aid, and now I’m breaking noses, bloodying gis, falling for a navy eyed dream-lover incarnate and calling a complete stranger ‘mother’.

  Merlin stared at Taryn as she picked up another handful of stones, throwing them one by one into the water, watching the gentle waves they made as she tried to make sense of her new life.

  “May every ripple bring you closer to your truth, Keeper of the Light. Closer to your truth, and your love.” Merlin turned and set his sights across the sea. He had his own plans to make before they left, and it was going to be a rocky journey.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jesse found Taryn tossing rocks into the pond from the edge of the pier. He handcrafted the wood and iron bench that was bolted to the pier and carved Irma’s name in Celtic script into the back rest. It was lovely, but Taryn seemed to prefer the decking to what he thought was a pretty comfortable seat. Jesse wondered if she really just wanted to put her feet in the water or if she just didn’t want to disturb the sanctity of the place.

  Irma’s spirit still lingered here, more than a decade after her death, infusing the small space with her expansive love. Everyone who gravitated to this small wooden pier seemed to gain a sense of peace when they settled here for a moment, as if pier and pond commingled into a confluence of healing energy. Jesse still missed Irma, the grandmother of his heart, who took her last breath here, but since he
still felt her when he came to this spot, he considered himself lucky.

  Taryn didn’t seem to be absorbing the peace of the place. She didn’t look like she was drawing on its gift of revitalizing strength either. If anything, she appeared dejected and bone tired. It took a crazy kind of courage to do what she’d done on the dojo floor, and in that Taryn reminded him of Irma. They were not similar in looks or stature, Irma was frail and small, but, they were very similar in character and in will.

  Irma had been an auto mechanic in WWII. She opened her own auto repair shop after losing her job when the troops came home. She looked death in the eye every day for the last two years of her life, battling the ravages that time and disease played on her petite frame. The woman was a lion well into her nineties and she never gave up. After today, it wasn’t hard for him to picture Taryn at ninety, standing tall and proud and giving hell to whomever she thought deserved it. He hoped he’d be around to see it.

  He wanted to be there every step of the way to watch her pass through every stage of her life, with more glorious abandon than she’d shown in the previous one. He wanted to see Taryn the lover, the mother, the grandmother, the friend. More than that, he wanted to be a part of it all. Jesse was feeling sappy and emotional. He hadn’t seen himself spending the rest of his life with a woman before and it irked him that not only was he thinking about it now, he was waxing poetic in his head. Pretty soon he’d be seeing the heavens open and hearing angles singing, ‘AAAHHH’. Jeeze, man. Get a grip.

  Jesse shook his head to clear it, ran both hands through his hair, clasping them behind his head as he looked up into the cloudless morning sky. “Damn, Irma. Every time I think of your weathered mug scowling at me, brandishing the wrench you always kept in the basket of your electric wheelchair, I get as maudlin as a thirteen year old girl. I could sure use your help here. I haven’t a freaking clue how to help her, and she’s got me so tied up in knots, part of me doesn’t even want to try.” Jesse closed his eyes and let the sun shine on his face a moment before unclasping his hands.