Guarded Heart (12 page)

Metal cracked against ceramic. Brook jerked to attention.
Across the table, Morgan’s blue eyes swirled and stormed. His fork lay
discarded. She took stock of his cues for an explanation.

Didn’t he like what she’d made?

Understanding came only when she discovered his
empathic
link
snugly tapped into her consciousness. He sensed her arousal. But
Morgan didn’t know
he
was the reason behind it. For all he knew, she
could have fantasized about whichever witch she’d cooked for.

Morgan jumped to his feet, sending his chair into a dramatic
wobble on its back legs. He stalked around the table and halted beside her. His
cool scent wafted over her, tugging forward memories of last night. Arousal
bloomed between her thighs—a damp sign she wouldn’t be able to explain away.
Brook slowly met his eyes. Up close the maelstrom in them was breathtaking.

He hauled her up by her forearm, smashing her lips beneath
his before she could protest. His tongue smoothed over hers and then slipped
away. She leaned after it, eager for more. Morgan twisted his head and then
gave her what she’d craved.

Already his erection nudged at her belly. There was little
doubt what would happen next.

Yet she was wrong. Morgan released her chin. Without the
support Brook fell onto his naked chest. He grabbed hold of her waist and
lifted her, sliding his hands down even as he pulled her forward. Her legs
wrapped around his torso at his urging. Rather than carry her to a bed as she’d
imagined he would, Morgan maneuvered her against a wall.

Her eyelids flipped open. He came up for air. His kiss
possessed her chin, her neck and into the crevice beneath her ear. Brook
shivered and gasped with each sinful pull of his lips. She rubbed her aching
pussy along his pants—up, down, side to side—all motions meant to soothe. All
failed.

Morgan reached her shoulder, tonguing the hollow where it
met her neck. His fingers teased beneath her shirt hem. Brook sucked in a sharp
breath as they grazed her bare midriff, sending out a torrent of shivers. He
pulled back, whisking the shirt up and over her head. Briefly he possessed her
nipples—one after the other. Then his mouth took hers.

Her breasts pulsed. Her pussy throbbed. Her brain howled—all
for Morgan. She shoved her hand down his thin pants and curled it around his
cock. A smile curved her lips at the hiss he let out. Brook massaged him, long
and hard—exactly as she wanted him to do to her.

Morgan smacked a palm on the wall behind her. His breath
came out in a fragrant rush of wine and spice that ruffled her hair. Eyes
fluttered behind his closed lids.

“Brook,” he said, half sighing, half growling.

“Condom?”

His nod was jerky but a nod nonetheless. “Pocket.”

She checked the pocket he’d indicated with his chin. Her
fingers closed over the cool foil packet. “You came prepared.”

“I was determined.” His eyes flicked open. No
was
about it. Determination hardened them still.

“But you only have one.”

“Neptune.” His groaned curse broadened her smile.

That determination had him unfastening her jeans even as she
stroked him in between tearing the condom wrapper. His next incoherent swear
must have meant he’d discovered today’s silky thong. Hastily he pushed at the
denim with one hand while the other plunged south.

Brook found his lips, kissing the edges as they slackened.
The fist massaging the soft sac beneath his cock was most likely the cause. She
rolled the condom over his erection, thanking their patron god that Morgan had
little dexterity when his balls were stroked. Otherwise she’d have been lost
beneath
his
touch.

Somehow he rallied. Morgan deftly brushed her clit. Brook
lost her rhythm after the first motion as heat swelled up her body. She forgot
what she’d been doing after the fourth. She forgot far more at the next tease
of Morgan’s lips.

He was going to kiss her again. She couldn’t wait.

Morgan would lose himself in her mouth if he wasn’t careful.
She kissed with the full measure of the passion she hid behind her hard eyes
and cool demeanor. He could tangle his tongue with hers all night long and be
satisfied.

One deft squeeze of his erection called the thought into
question. Perhaps he wouldn’t be content with only her kiss. Her hands were
masterful all on their own.

“Brook.” He groaned long and loud.

She released him. His eyes snapped open for an explanation.
Brook bent and shimmied out of her jeans. Upright she stretched—a perfect
specimen of feminine strength. Proud. Beautiful.

“You are exquisite.
”

Brook snorted. “I’m mannish.”

“You aren’t in the least mannish. Amazonian perhaps—a
legendary warrior woman.”

Her slow blink implied consternation. A moment later her
head dropped against the wall and she released a throaty laugh. It was the
sexiest thing he’d ever heard. More than that, Brook
smiled
. Had he
thought she was beautiful before? Smiling, she looked younger than he did and
her usually icy eyes sparkled like a lake on Christmas day.

Poseidon in the
deep
. He would do anything to keep
her—both a terrifying and exhilarating realization.

She sent his thin pants to the floor. Brook’s palm formed
over his cock. He let her tug him by it, biting back a grin at how easily she
manipulated him.

His grin fled when she guided him inside her core and
immediately squeezed her inner muscles. He surged forward until he could go no
farther. She clenched as he withdrew as if punishing him for daring to leave
her. His breath shook out jaggedly.

Morgan gripped her hips and lifted her to him. Brook slipped
her feet around him for a closer fit. He plunged harder, pinning her to the
wall behind. A choked noise lodged in her throat.

Had that been too much
? He drew back in concern.

Brook blinked up at him. “More. Just like that.”

His own choked noise caught behind his teeth. He swallowed
down the rising emotion. And then gave her more. Just like that.

If anyone had told Brook that Morgan fucked like a tiger,
she’d have laughed herself breathless. As it was, she gasped in a lungful of
air between thrusts. The once naïve and completely sentimental priest displayed
a sweet aggressive side Brook never would have believed without experiencing
it. She also wouldn’t have believed she’d
enjoy
it.

This was more than enjoyment.

He plunged harder, mercifully before she could follow that
thought to its potentially disturbing end. The jolt from her core to her brain
meant she could do little more than hang on and enjoy the ride. Morgan’s
swirling gaze was a problem, however. She let her lids close, shutting him out.

He slammed his pelvis into hers. A demand? She dug her nails
into his sides in answer, drawing a sharp exhale from him and a volley of
thrusts. Brook failed to recognize when one ended and another began. Heat
coiled, stealing within every cold, lonely space she had left. Muscles
tightened to their absolute limit. Too soon the deluge of pleasure broke,
sending a keening scream out of her throat.

Morgan fell atop her. Together they gasped against the wall.
Brook didn’t try to move for several seconds. He’d been amazing—wild while
still managing to be attentive. She’d never be able to smell the ocean again
without thinking of Morgan.

How could any woman resist him? She couldn’t and she prided
herself on her resistant abilities.

He was practiced, that much was obvious.
Some
female
would have had to experience this and then let him go. Unless…

“How many broken hearts are in your past?”

“What?” he asked, a mumble into her shoulder.

“How many women have you loved and left?”

“Why do you think I was the bad guy?”

She opened her mouth to explain but fell silent. Her
reasoning
had
been sound…until she recalled who she was talking to.
There wasn’t a bad bone in Morgan’s body. He was all that was shiny and good in
the world. Until recently that had been a fact to deride. Now she wasn’t so
certain.

Morgan lifted his head until his face was visible. “Brook?”

She pushed out an annoyed breath. “You’ve obviously had some
experience. What happened to the women who got you here?”

“Do you care?”

Yes.

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. Why couldn’t she say the
word?

Morgan’s nostrils flared angrily. “
I
didn’t break any
hearts. They left before I could.”

Why would anyone leave him if given half the chance? It made
no sense. Did he turn into a control freak after an initial honeymoon period?

“I get bored, disinterested,” he said bitterly. “They figure
out I’m no longer into them. They threaten to break up with me. I don’t fight
them. They go through the motions, hoping I’ll change their minds.”

“But you don’t,” she said.

“I don’t.”

“Then how do you know there were no broken hearts?”

He lifted one shoulder. “They didn’t have to leave me.”

“You would have stayed with them indefinitely simply so you
didn’t have to be the bad guy? How typically Morgan.”

“If it were typically Morgan then why did you have to ask?”
He took a step back, easing her against the wall. A sneer distorted his
gorgeous face. “You should have guessed it. After all, you know me so well.”

His emotions pressed against her, tightening her
throat—anger, brooding, melancholy. What had she said that was so bad?

Perhaps it wasn’t what she’d said but what she
hadn’t
said. His mood had taken a turn the moment she’d neglected to tell him she
cared.

In guarding her heart, she’d apparently taken a jab at his.

She doesn’t care.

Morgan exhaled moodily into the pillow in his chosen
bedroom. He must be insane to leave a naked woman in a huff. Especially when
he’d been determined to bring her around.

What was the point if she didn’t care?

He was nothing but a brief amusement for her—another stop on
her nationwide tour of Water witches. She’d certainly punched her card at
this
station. Brook would go home with a brand-new souvenir—his battered heart.

And she had the nerve to ask how many
he’d
stomped
on. None.

Mira’s faced flashed in his mind.

Perhaps
none
was a white lie. He’d never
intentionally broken a woman’s heart.

Brook’s sexy, pouty lips replaced Mira’s face in his
musings.

What made a heartbreak intentional or unintentional?

Brook had never said there could be anything more than sex. That
had been a fantasy inside his mind. In fact, she hadn’t said there could be sex
at all…until today. Today she’d suggested his single condom wouldn’t be enough.

And he’d stomped out like a child in his terrible twos.

Whatever constituted intention, Morgan was already
dangerously infatuated with his Ranger. More intimacy was not what he needed.
What he needed was to get back to the real world and hope she found the culprit
behind his attacks. Fast. Before the cracks in his dam widened and love poured
out.

Brook deposited the last of
the plastic bags in the back of the rented car. She balanced the phone between
her ear and her shoulder so she could speak to her boss at the same time. “We
’
re set. Priest Seaton called his uncle
this morning, claiming he’d only just heard he’d been presumed dead. We’ve got
an appointment with the fire inspector at the lake house at eleven. And then
we’ll book rooms at the hotel that hosted Friday’s event.”

“Rooms?” Kyle needed to brush up on his faux nonchalance. He
wasn’t fooling anyone.

“A front,” Brook said. “I’ll be sleeping on the priest’s
floor.”

Or rather she’d be meditating…all night long.

Last night hadn’t been conducive to rest either. Not with
Morgan’s mood sucking the life out of the entire cabin.

“He’ll loudly announce his intentions to rebuild the lake
house,” Brook said. “And begin inquiries for builders to assist. Foster owns a
construction company.”

“The floor?”

Brook’s lips puckered at Kyle’s lack of subtlety.

He explained himself a moment later. “Judy is usually
spot-on—even without empathic links to help her.”

Judy’s intuition
was
frighteningly accurate even for
a Water witch. But that was in cases other than Brook’s.

Brook wasn’t about to comment on any of that, not with
Morgan within earshot. “We’re hitting the road as soon as I hang up.”

“You have the trackers for Ms. Fontaine, Mr. Foster and
Irvin Seaton.”

She sighed. “Yes, but I still think this is too tidy.”

“Sometimes the tidy answer is the correct one.”

“Surely the villain wasn’t stupid enough to think making
separate withdrawals alone would hide his plot.”

“Hopefully we’ll find out soon.”

Brook grunted despite agreeing. Yes, they needed to find out
soon so she could move on to the next assignment—one where she wasn’t fantasizing
about sex with the client every other minute.

Morgan appeared at the door, his gaze fixed firmly on the
ground. The mood clinging to him was still gloomy.

But at least he wore a shirt.

“He’s ready. Gotta go,” Brook said.

“Good luck, Calder.”

She’d need it if she was going to get Morgan back to Gary
without pulling the car over for another quick fuck. The situation would be
easier if that had been what he wanted. But Morgan seemed to want
more
.

Getting involved with anyone wasn’t a good idea. Though she’d
have a home base, she’d still be expected to do jobs. Perhaps not as many as
she was used to and perhaps the majority would be only a short trip away…but
was that enough for someone? Would it be enough for Morgan?

He met her eye. “Do you need anything else from inside?”

Staring at the strained expression on his gorgeous face, the
only thing she could think to respond was
you
.

Her stomach dipped as if she’d said it aloud.

That was the
real
problem, wasn’t it?

Morgan might reject her. He might break her heart. He might
leave her like everyone else she’d ever loved had.

No.
She’d finally created the life she’d always
wanted—free from obligations to anyone but herself and her chosen profession.
She wasn’t giving it up simply because Kyle had suggested she get cozy with the
regional priest.

Brook would continue guarding her heart as skillfully as she
guarded her client.

Morgan slumped into the corner of the car, avoiding his
companion. He was exhausted. But he couldn’t nap. Not so close to her. Her
beach-grass scent alone made him picture things he’d rather not.

She’d made it abundantly clear she wanted him only for sex.
At least once a minute he wished he were the kind of male who could be happy
with that. But he wasn’t. Not with her.

Morgan would have all of her or none of her at all.

A glance at her, alert, concentration fixed on the
windshield, drew a silent sigh from him. If only he hadn’t given in to
temptation, he might not be so in the doldrums now.

He’d vowed he wouldn’t regret what they’d done together. But
he’d also vowed she’d change her mind. Perhaps in a few years the regret would
fade. Until then, he’d finally become the client she needed him to be.

* * * * *

The vanilla human knew his explosions. Was that from
practice in a crime-ridden city or because he was simply that good? Asking
would offend him and the brooding Water priest beside him.

Brook restrained the urge to edge away from the duo. She
would have known Morgan’s mood even without the empathy net stretched wide. He
hadn’t smiled once. Nor had he spoken more than a few words since they’d left
the cabin.

“It was definitely intentional,” the fire inspector said
unnecessarily. “Hasty, but intentional. Whoever did this wanted to harm and had
the money to pull it off.”

Three different accelerants and a brick of C-4? Yes, someone
wanted to do harm. But
who
?

“So this was the
third
attack on you?” The inspector
eyed Morgan up and down. “Why are they targeting you?”

Morgan shrugged a set of muscular shoulders—shoulders Brook
shouldn’t stare at. “I guess being an environmentalist has its risks.”

Fury flared on the empathy net from feet ahead. Brook
snapped to attention, whipping toward the emotion. The fire inspector hauled a
weapon from his waistband, aiming it squarely at Morgan’s chest.

Instinct and training kicked in. Brook charged, knocking the
inspector’s arm aside. The gun exploded. Muzzle flash seared. Pain bit into her
side. But it wasn’t finished yet.

She threw an elbow, aiming it for his nose as she reached
for the gun. The barrel burned her palm. Brook swallowed down a pained hiss and
clenched tighter.

“Brook!” Morgan shouted from far too close.

The inspector’s head snapped back from her blow. A low grunt
sounded. And then he screamed—not in pain, but rather in
fury
. The
inspector’s emotion ramped up a notch, his attention fixed on Morgan over
Brook’s shoulder.

Brook twisted the gun, bending the inspector’s finger in the
process. His scream this time was definitely pained. She ejected the cartridge
and tossed the gun before it could do any more damage. Then she knocked the
inspector out with an elbow to his skull.

Only when she’d made certain Morgan didn’t sport any wounds
did she let herself drop.

“Brook!” Morgan shouted a second time as she sank to her
knees.

Bright red seeped from her side through her T-shirt. She’d
taken a gunshot meant for him. Yes, it was her job but that didn’t make his
heart race any less.

Morgan caught her before she could do more than waver.

“He’s not dead,” she said. Pain broadcast clearly without an
empathic link. “Only unconscious. You have to tie him up and look for other
weapons he can use against you.”

“I’m not doing anything until I call for a Healer.”

Brook gripped his collar. “I will kill you myself if you
don’t see to him first.”

He pushed out an annoyed puff of air. But she was right. The
fire inspector could attack them both if Morgan didn’t do something while he
could.

Still…the urge to kiss her was strong. Her narrow-eyed gaze
implied now was the worst time for that. He eased her onto the gravel and forced
himself away.

Morgan picked through the wreckage of his home for something
to tie up an attacker. Half-melted nylon cord from mini blinds at the side of
the house would do. He rolled the inspector onto his belly and then did an
approximation of hogtying the guy’s limbs.

Morgan searched the debris for more restraints as he waited
for the local Healer to answer his call. The Healer didn’t disappoint. No more
than four brusque and cryptic phrases passed between them before help was on
the way. Morgan stowed the phone.

Only when he’d trussed up the attacker three different ways
did he return to Brook. She was awake but biting her lip as though trying to
remain quiet. Emotion slashed his insides. This was his fault.

He spoke softly as if a loud volume alone would make her
situation worse. “I called a Healer. They should be here in about ten minutes.”

“Someone is coming,” she said. “I only sense concern. But I
didn’t sense anything from the fire inspector so…”

She was still trying to do her job even while bleeding on
his driveway. Brook was remarkable. No wonder she was the best Ranger in the
country.

“I didn’t sense anything in him either,” Morgan said. “It
was almost as if he’d had—”

“A trigger word.”

“Exactly.” Morgan stood as a neighbor approached. He smiled despite
the guilt filling his gut. He caught a thread of magic from the aether, sending
it into the wide-eyed woman. “Morning.”

The woman had a healthy sprinkling of silver in her black
hair and lines on her face. Morgan recognized her as the resident from three
houses over. “Is everything okay? I heard a gunshot.”

“Oh yes.” Morgan pushed a heavy dose of magic into her,
willing her to believe everything he said and ignore the wounded woman on the
ground. “Our rental car backfired. You’d think they made vehicles better these
days.” He shook his head for effect. “Go on home. Everything’s fine now.”

The neighbor blinked heavily twice. And then went home
without a backward look.

“Put him in the trunk,” Brook said from the ground. “And
then give me your arm. I can make it into the backseat. We need to get out of
here.”

“We can’t yet. The Healer is coming here.”

“We have to. Whoever set you up with a trigger-happy fire
inspector will check in to make sure the job was done. Call and have the Healer
meet us somewhere else.”

“Brook—”

“I failed you enough on this job. Please, don’t make me fail
you now.” Brook struggled onto her elbow, wincing as she did.

Morgan rushed to her side. “You haven’t failed me. I’m still
alive.”

“You can tell me I haven’t failed you once I find whoever
did this to you.”

“To
us
.
”

It must have been the wrong thing to say. Brook stumbled
forward, wrenching her arm out of his. She slapped her palms against the rental
car and panted despite the short trip. Before he could help her inside, she got
the door open, quietly hissing as she did, and then dropped into the backseat.

Morgan frowned at her stubborn show for a moment before
starting on the tasks she’d assigned him.

The gunshot wound to the side hurt like a bitch. Meditation
did little to minimize Brook’s pain. A portion of it had to do with the
constant worried glances Morgan cast at her in the rearview mirror every time
she was foolish enough to open her eyes.

Did he forget that protecting him was a big portion of her
job? Thus far she hadn’t done a particularly good job of keeping him safe. Two
gunmen had been on his front porch, his lake house had blown up with him in it
and now the fire inspector had tried to shoot him at point-blank range—all on
her watch. This was unacceptable.

Had she let herself slip because of their personal
relationship? Or was she simply slipping?

She’d exerted what was left of her energy checking on the
locations of the primary suspects on her phone. None of them were anywhere near
the lake house. Was she wrong about the culprit examining his or her work, or
was she wrong about the suspects? Either way, she was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

She exhaled inaudibly despite wanting to sigh. Brook didn’t
bother with an answer because she couldn’t have given one without growling.
This wasn’t Morgan’s failing. It was hers. He didn’t deserve her bad temper. No
matter how much she’d like to make it his problem.

“Brook?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, grinding the words out.

“Does it hurt to talk?”

It hurt to
breathe
. She wanted neither to show
weakness nor lie to him. Brook remained silent instead.

Words burst out of Morgan a pair of seconds later. “I’m
really sorry. I never should have taken this position. It’s only caused the
people I love trouble.”

Brook growled even though the effort caused her pain. “Shut
up. You don’t know that’s what this is about. And don’t you dare apologize to
me again for what
they
did.”

“It has to be about the position,” he said into the rearview
mirror. “I’m too young. I wasn’t born here. There were others more—”

“You deserve to be regional high priest, Morgan. No one else
is as suited to the position as you. You could give Desmond Marino a run for
his money.”

He stared, gape-mouthed for far too long.

“Eyes on the road before you kill us both,” Brook said and
then looked away.

Giving compliments wasn’t something she often did. But that
hadn’t been a compliment. She’d merely told the truth as she saw it.

“Brook, I—”

“Don’t.” The emotion filling the car’s interior overwhelmed.
She didn’t quite know what it was but knew enough to avoid it. “Whatever you’re
about to say, save it.”

He went quiet and shifted his attention back to the road.
The emotion didn’t fade. He was saving it rather than forgetting it. She
shouldn’t be pleased.

But she was.

* * * * *

Morgan got to his feet as soon as Brook appeared from the
restroom of the fast-food restaurant. She looked hale and hearty—a far cry from
the haggard shuffle of when she’d gone inside. The only remaining evidence of
her gunshot wound had been stuffed into the plastic bag hanging from her left
forearm. The Healer who slipped out behind her had done an excellent job, and
in less than ten minutes.

“Thank you,” he said to the Healer—a woman with softly waved
raven hair. “You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

She gave him a half-smile. “She would have lived.”