Guarded Heart (3 page)

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.

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.

Brook’s intention hadn’t been to piss him off with the news
she’d be sleeping on his bedroom floor. It was standard procedure with a client
who had been involved in a home-based attack. But his reaction stuck in her
craw.

What was so awful about her being in the same room with him?
Hadn’t she demonstrated she could protect him on many occasions? Neptune knew
she’d earned a
scar
for him when he’d fallen in with an aggressive group
of vacationing Air witches. She should have given up on that fourteen-year-old
boy instead of assuming he’d mature in time. So little had changed.

How many wounds will I leave with this time?

He spoke before she could come up with a response. “I showed
you to a guest room beside mine. You’ll sleep there.”

“Men stood at your door a few hours ago with guns pointed in
your girlfriend’s face.” Brook extended her arm toward the front of his house
for emphasis. “Those guns were meant for
you
, Priest Seaton. Your enemy
knows where you live and thus per Ranger Code 2.89.B, ‘if an alternate
residence is unavailable, the Ranger is obliged to sleep within the client’s
bedchamber’.” After a beat she said, “I didn’t write the codes. I just follow
them.”

She left the room before he could argue again. Time to
finish fortifying the bedroom during the short span she had left.

* * * * *

Morgan halted in the bedroom door at a quarter to twelve.

She’d moved his furniture.
Every
piece.

His chest of drawers was now in front of the boarded-up
window. The heavy oak armoire that had come with the house held the spot beside
it. And his bed was against the interior wall with the high headboard facing
the exterior. In short it looked as though a miniature earthquake had hit.

Morgan’s eyes sought out the source of the unnatural
disaster. He found her knelt in a pose of meditation atop a thin mat on the
floor just beyond his headboard. She didn’t appear to have stirred despite his
entrance. He had to assume she was aware of his presence, otherwise she
wouldn’t be terribly good at her job.

Brook was intentionally ignoring him. It angered him that
she’d blown into his home, torn apart his bedroom and then had the nerve to
kneel in the middle of his floor pretending he didn’t exist.

“What did you do?” he asked, snapping like the petulant
child he
’
d thought he
’
d never be again.

Her response was calm. “I fortified your exterior wall with
the available materials. If a bullet is shot at the house it will have to pass
through layers of wood before, hopefully, impacting nothing.”

Though he was ordinarily a patient man, her presence was
driving him to madness. “The only thing on this side of the house is the lake.
Are the
fish
going to shoot me?”

“Maybe you’ve heard of these things called boats?”

Morgan dug his fingers into his palms. Her sarcasm was no
help. And though she could no doubt sense his ire courtesy of the empathic link
he’d allowed her since the men had appeared at his door, she continued with her
snide delivery.

“They let
people
travel over the water. And those
people can bring things with them—things like sniper rifles.” Brook adopted a
reasonable tone. “A sniper shot would be the easiest way to get rid of you. And
thus the heavy furniture between you and the window.”

She
was also between him and the window. His ire
promptly fizzled into nothing. She was putting her life on the line for him.
She’d already stopped one attempt. So until she did something typically
Brook-like, he owed her more respect than his rough words.

Morgan grabbed the pants he’d worn to bed last night from
their spot in the dirty basket inside the door. He’d rather have a fresh pair
but that would involve walking past Brook. Pants in hand, he headed to the
bathroom down the hall.

There he got a look at his face in the brightly lit mirror.
His eyes were tight, his lips thin and his expression harassed.

The first twenty-four hours had yet to pass.

Morgan said a silent prayer to Neptune to make this ordeal
quick before he walked back to the bedroom.

* * * * *

How was Morgan supposed to sleep with the female in his
bedroom? Though she was silent and unmoving, he sensed her there even without
an empathic link. It had been the first thing he’d cast off when he’d slid
beneath the sheets of his queen-sized sleigh bed. He’d known he wouldn’t get a
moment’s rest if he didn’t. Not that it had helped.