Guardian Angel: Callaghan Brothers, Book 5

by Abbie Zanders

  And the bullet wound – he knew exactly what it was because he’d had enough of them himself. It wasn’t that old. The coloring was similar to the scars on his hip...

  Kane’s mind flew back to that night in the jungle. They’d been running away from the clearing. Well, he’d been running, half-dragging her away. Then she’d gone weightless right before the shot rang out and his hip exploded in fiery pain...

  He closed his eyes, forcing himself to see her as she was that night, recalling the mental images frame by frame. Yes, she’d been covered in blood, but it was not unexpected; he had slit the throat of the bastard who meant to harm her. And her side had been dark and sticky as well, but that had been his blood, hadn’t it? She had stubbornly refused to leave him, forcing him to get to his feet and move, offering herself as his crutch.

  His eyes flew open, luminous lasers of blue that cut right through her flesh and seared her heart.

  “Jesus Fucking Christ,” he said, realization dawning. “You took a bullet for me, didn’t you?”

  He looked into her face and saw the awful truth. She must have seen the gunman, had thrown herself against his back. But the bullet had gone right through her and into him. He had faltered; she took his gun and eliminated the threat, despite the fact that she’d been shot, too. And she had said nothing.

  In stark detail his mind replayed the soundtrack of the subsequent events – the swish of leaves as they cut through the brush, the sound of intermittent gunfire sometimes near, sometimes far. Occasional shouts. And the soft feminine grunts he thought had been caused solely by his substantial weight upon her shoulders. Her fucking wounded shoulders.

  “You killed three men to save me,” she said quietly. “You could have left me there and escaped, but you didn’t.”

  Kane felt as though something was going to explode within him. When he spoke, it was through his clenched teeth. “That’s what I do, Rebecca. Hell, I am trained to kill, and getting shot is just part of the job. I wasn’t there for humanitarian reasons. I wasn’t there to save you.”

  Her eyes got bigger, her bottom lip trembled at the barely controlled rage in his voice. He knew he was scaring her, but it was taking everything he had to contain the absolute, all-consuming rage rising up within him.

  “But you did save me, Kane. And if you hadn’t, I would have met the same fate as the Sisters. How could I leave you when you had done that for me? I never would have been able to live with myself.”

  Nausea roiled deep in his gut. He wanted to shake her. To make her see that she was more important than he would ever be. To demand that she never, ever risk her life for anyone ever again, especially him.

  She stood before him, naked and vulnerable, looking at him with those big, soft brown eyes that threatened to completely annihilate him. When she looked at him like that, he forgot who he was, what he was. They offered absolution, redemption, and salvation. And he didn’t deserve – or want - any of it.

  Kane’s lip curled up in a cruel snarl. “I would have survived with or without you, Rebecca. It is what I do. Risking your life for mine was both foolish and unnecessary.”

  He would swear later when he looked back on that moment some of the light faded from her eyes.

  But in that moment, Kane knew two things with certainty. First, that she believed she was in love with him. Maybe it was because he had saved her life, maybe not. Whether she really was in love with him or not was irrelevant, because of the second thing he knew with equal surety: that he could not have her, no matter how much he wanted her. Not now, not ever.

  Because once he took her, he would never let her go.

  She would no longer have the luxury of choice. He would strip that from her, along with everything else that might threaten her safety again. He would possess her fully; she would belong to him and him alone. The sacrifice she’d made in the jungle would be nothing compared to the one she’d have to make if he accepted her into his arms. He was a hair’s breadth from saying ‘fuck it all’ and taking her anyway, but amazingly, there was still some sliver of decency left in him that refused to take advantage of her.

  He summoned The Iceman to the surface, allowing it to rise within him, closing him off, giving him the ability to do what must be done. The words came out without emotion, without feeling. His heart was shutting down against the incredible pain ripping through it. Thankfully, his mind had a little bit left, though it, too, seemed to be numbing with each passing tick of the clock.

  “It was a mistake to bring you here. It’s time for you to go, Rebecca. Pack your things.”

  Kane released her roughly, ignoring her startled gasp. Without another word he turned and walked away, leaving her alone, cold and exposed. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

  Chapter Twelve

  The trip down the mountain was quiet. Rebecca sat against the passenger door, staring at the hands she had folded neatly in her lap. He stole occasional sideways glances at her. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. The whole point of taking her back – of getting her away from him – was to protect her, because he was way beyond the point of being able to watch her give herself so freely – so selflessly – to others. He couldn’t think about any of the things that had been done to her, because the resulting rage was almost more than he could handle.

  Outside, he was the Iceman. Inside, it felt like every last cell in his body was on fire, the pain constant and excruciating.

  He couldn’t kid himself anymore, either; he was incapable of being her friend. He’d thought he could be. He’d told himself that her companionship was enough. It wasn’t. Now he knew he wanted nothing less than full possession, and that wouldn’t be fair to a woman as giving, as caring as Rebecca. She would come to resent him, just as she resented her brother and her family for trying to control her life and her choices.

  If he had one wish, he would wish desperately to be the kind of man who could love her and still give her the freedom to do whatever made her happy. But he wasn’t that man. And he knew that no matter how much he loved her, he never could be. It simply wasn’t in him.

  Her face was a mask, expressionless. He knew better than to expect tears or pouting from her; she was much too strong for that. It was one of the things that drew him to her – her inner strength, her resolve. And it was a good thing, too, because if he ever saw a single tear fall from her eye because of something he’d done, he would never forgive himself. As long as she stayed strong, didn’t cry or pout, he could tell himself that he was doing the right thing, and that deep down inside she knew and accepted that. That as much as this was killing him, it was the best thing for her. She had willingly sacrificed herself for him once. He wouldn’t allow her to do it a second time.

  When Kane pulled up in front of Aidan’s condo, he didn’t bother turning off the engine. He stared straight ahead, refusing to look at her. He made no move to get out.

  “So where does this leave us, Kane?” she asked quietly, her voice as soft as a whisper.

  He turned his head slowly; his face could have been carved from stone for the amount of softness it held. “There is no us,” Kane said simply. His tone was cool; his eyes, blue ice. “I apologize if I misled you.”

  * * *

  It was scary, being the target of such barely leashed rage. His anger washed over her, suffocating her, holding her captive; she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Rebecca began to realize why everyone else gave him such a wide berth; the man was power personified, rolling thunder and deadly lightning – one strike and that would be the end. How many had looked into those eyes, those beautiful, deadly eyes, and thought the same thing?

  Had he misled her? She thought about it. No, she realized, he never had. He had been nothing but kind and thoughtful. He had not once tried to kiss her, or hold her, or suggest anything beyond simple platonic companionship. It had been she who had misunderstood. God, she was such a fool. Just because he was the first man she’d ever had these kinds of feelings for, she’d assumed he felt
the same.

  Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her eyes, saying a silent prayer that the earth would just open up and swallow her. When that didn’t happen, she nodded her head once.

  “You didn’t mislead me. It is I who must apologize for ... misunderstanding. Thank you for being honest with me.”

  Kane turned his gaze back to the windshield, a clear dismissal. Rebecca let herself out of the cab and walked slowly to the door. Once she was inside, Kane pulled away from the curb. He didn’t gun it, didn’t leave skid marks.

  And he didn’t look back.

  From behind the curtained panels flanking Aidan’s entranceway, Rebecca watched Kane pull away until his tail lights were no longer visible, still feeling somewhat shell-shocked. She didn’t know what possessed her to drop that towel and reveal herself to him. It wasn’t like she had planned to do it, or even that the thought occurred to her when she came out of the bathroom to find him standing there, eyes closed, looking rugged and windblown, the epitome of everything raw and masculine. It just happened. One minute she was covered; the next, she wasn’t.

  At first, the hungry look in his eyes had thrilled her. But then... Rebecca blinked back the tears. As long as she lived she would never forget the look on his face as he traced the scars on her body. She thought that he of all people would be able to handle it. He had more than a few himself, if the stories were true.

  She’d thought Kane was different; that he’d seen more than the old-fashioned but still widely accepted tenet of what a woman was supposed to be – soft and pretty and dependent upon others. That he’d recognized her need to make a difference, because that’s what he did. That he didn’t mind if she didn’t wear pretty clothes and makeup, or that she preferred quiet solitude to a social atmosphere. He was supposed to have understood.

  But when it all came down to it, maybe he really didn’t. Maybe he was just like everyone else, thinking she was incapable of making sound decisions, or that she was someone who needed to be protected and mainstreamed for her own good.

  And maybe, she thought finally, he was right.

  Rebecca forced herself away from the door, feeling like she’d just lost more than a possible chance at a relationship. No, it was so much more than that. She’d just lost her best friend.

  The numbness that came with shock was wearing off, her shields crumbling now that Kane was gone and she was alone. The newly forged hole in her chest ached so badly she set a path for the bar. She wasn’t much of a drinker; the sweet, dessert-type liquors were all she indulged in, and then only in small quantities and on special occasions. Tonight, though, she felt the need for something stronger. A few drinks and a hot bath, and maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to close her eyes and ease some of the pain until she was strong enough to face it again.

  So caught up in her own misery was she that she didn’t hear the sounds coming from the sunken living room. She made a beeline for the bar and grabbed a bottle of blackberry brandy. It wasn’t the hardest stuff on the shelf, but it was a lot stronger than what she was used to, and it would do. It wasn’t until she turned and began walking back toward the stairway that she saw her brother’s naked body entangled with a voluptuous brunette on the S-shaped Liberator chair. Rebecca froze for only a moment, hoping to back track toward the foyer without being seen, but Aidan’s companion spotted her and let out a scream.

  “Jesus Christ!” Aidan cursed, trying to cover himself and his partner. “You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow!”

  “Aidan,” Rebecca stammered, backing up, trying to dispel the images of leather shackles and whips that were now forever burned into her eyes. “I’m so sorry...” She turned on her heel and ran towards the door, her face flaming a deep, burning red.

  “Becca! Becca, wait!” Aidan called, hastily pulling on his pants, but Rebecca had no wish to face him at that moment. She grabbed his set of keys from the side table and tore out of the house. It had been a long time since she’d driven a Benz, but she soon discovered it was like riding a bike.

  She drove around for quite some time before finally finding herself outside the shelter as night began to fall in earnest. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Where else would she go?

  The building was dark and empty. The last of the families had gone back to their homes the prior week; the center had returned to its daytime-only operating hours. That was a good thing. Rebecca wasn’t in the mood to see anyone or make idle conversation. She wasn’t ready to head back to Aidan’s quite yet either, though she knew he was probably worried. Rebecca almost laughed. Worrying about her was something Aidan was quite accustomed to by then.

  She pulled the Benz around back, out of sight, and let herself in through the back door. She slipped into the recreation area and collapsed on the couch, pulling out the bottle of brandy and taking a healthy slug. She coughed as the alcohol burned down her throat, flaming a path all the way into her empty stomach. It didn’t last long, though, and soon she was only left with the heavy, sweet taste of blackberries. She took another.

  What an idiot she was! How could she take such a perfect thing and ruin it? Typically, self-pity was not her thing, but tonight, just tonight, she was going to make an exception. Whatever she had with Kane was ruined, and she didn’t know how she was going to be able to look in her brother’s eyes again. There were just some things a sister did not need to know.

  Who knows how long she sat there in the darkness, sipping at the brandy, letting the pain and grief wash over her, before she heard the unusual sounds. At first she thought she was dreaming, or possibly hearing things, but the harder she listened, the more certain she became that someone was trying to break into the shelter.

  Rebecca got up slowly, the brandy and lack of food making her head swim. The sounds were coming from the kitchen. With quiet steps she advanced.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing!?” Rage overcame good sense upon entering the room, flipping on the lights, and finding three figures in black hoodies. One stood by the door, presumably keeping watch. Another was emptying the wall safe where the petty cash was stored – the lock lay uselessly on the floor. And the third, she discovered too late, was only a foot to her right.

  Without warning something hit her from the side, making the entire right side of her face explode in pain. Rebecca stumbled a few steps in a dazed stupor, the taste of blood growing rapidly in her mouth.

  “Fuck!” exclaimed a muffled male voice.

  The one who stood by the door came over to her then. Rebecca struggled to get a good look, but something warm and sticky was running into her eyes, obscuring her vision. A sharp, splitting pain hit her hip, then her ribs, right before someone’s weight came down on her ankle. She screamed, or tried to, before a heavy weight settled on her chest. One gloved hand was pressed down hard on her face, another across her neck to restrict her air flow.

  The figure shifted; a knee pressed hard into her ribs where she had been kicked. Rebecca fought to breathe through the pain, at least until she felt rough hands grappling with the fastenings of her jeans. She started bucking with renewed fervor.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” The familiar, muffled voice came from the other side of the room. It sounded angry.

  “Just having a little fun,” answered the intruder currently holding her down. She didn’t know that voice, but she would remember it in her nightmares. Her blouse was ripped down the middle, exposing her bra. The snap of her Levi’s was undone, the zipper was down. The man on top of her was struggling to pull them down over her ample hips.

  “No.” It was a command, not a request. One the would-be rapist chose to ignore until the sound of a gun being cocked rang out in the kitchen. “I said no.”

  After a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity, the assailant mumbled a few choice curses but complied, making sure he used all of his substantial weight when he pushed himself off of her. The moment his hand left her mouth she started screaming.

  “Shut her the fuck up!” comman
ded the voice, distorted but still vaguely familiar. She heard the sound of a drawer opening, and the tear of duct tape a moment before it was placed over her mouth.

  “It won’t stick,” someone said breathlessly as she struggled. “Too much blood.”

  “Fuck it. We’re done here anyway.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” someone whispered in her ear, sounding strangely apologetic. It was the second time she’d heard that sentiment in the past few hours, and some part of her wondered just where exactly she was supposed to be. It was the last thought she had before she felt one more blinding pain on the side of her head and fell into the blackness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kane made it a point to avoid Pine Ridge since he’d taken Rebecca back. It was better that way, and definitely more in line with the way things had been – before.

  Kane liked his privacy. He liked doing what he wanted when he wanted to do it, without questions, without interference. At the Pub, there was always someone around. Wondering what he was doing. Asking how he was. Making small talk. Who needed that shit?

  And the noise, dear God, the noise. At least his cabin was quiet. Down in Pine Ridge, someone was always talking. Or the kids were laughing. Or crying. There was always a television on somewhere. Or a radio. Or something.

  No, he was much better off on his own. Where he could sit in peace and remember how Rebecca looked curled up in that big chair by the fire. He could let his eyes glaze over without fear of someone asking if everything was alright, or feeling the need to infringe upon his personal reflections.

  The book still sat where Rebecca had left it, next to that overstuffed recliner. In the few hours she’d spent here, it had become Her Chair. Big enough to swallow her, comfortable enough for her to spend hours reading, or talking. Kane hadn’t minded conversation with Rebecca. But maybe that was because unlike most people, she rarely spoke unless she had something worthwhile to say.