Dangerous Secrets: Callaghan Brothers, Book 1 (20 page)

What.  The.  Hell.
  Kiara/Taryn was curled up against him, her head snuggled against his chest, tucked securely under his arm.  One arm reached around his chest, one leg across his hips, like he was some kind of giant teddy bear or something.  The blankets that had covered her had been extended to cover him as well.  He took a deep breath, watching her rise and fall with his chest, realizing immediately that that had been a mistake.  He got a lungful of her soft feminine scent, and that was
not
a good thing.  It made it too easy to think of her as an actual person instead of the job she was.

As gently as he could, he pried her off of him.  How the hell had this happened?  One minute they were sitting by the fire drinking coffee, the next – this?  The constant pounding on the roof told him that it was raining steadily, though the lack of ground-shaking thunder and cacophony of quarter-sized hail hitting the outer walls indicated that the worst of the storm had passed.  He had to get outside and assess the damage.  Not to mention standing in an icy rain was sounding pretty good right about then.

He tucked her into the couch, ignoring the physical discomfort that came from his recent injuries and the fact that he’d slept sitting up on a hard floor.  She frowned a little in her sleep – apparently she found him more comfortable than the couch - but thankfully, stayed quiet and asleep. 

He was going to kill Jake for this.  Kill him, then resuscitate him just so he could kill him again.  His brothers would be sympathetic.  Their father might be upset for a while, but he’d get over it.

––––––––

K
iara was showered and dressed when he returned.  He’d deliberately stayed outside for as long as he reasonably could, but kept a close eye on the cabin all the same in case she entertained thoughts of an another self-guided tour around the compound. 

All of the blankets had been folded and put away.  A fire had been lit in the small bedroom, and their wet clothes were suspended before it, hers looking like doll clothes next to his.  He appraised the makeshift line she’d constructed out of some thin rope and the support posts of the beds, grunting in reluctant approval. 

A new stack of firewood had been carried in, he noticed, and the delicious aroma of fresh coffee, muffins, eggs, and bacon greeted him.  She offered him a brief smile as he entered, then went back to unloading supplies into the cupboards.  He wondered if she remembered curling up to him last night, or if it was something she had done while in slumber, unaware. 

Kane exchanged his soaked clothes for dry ones and joined her at the table.  She’d already eaten, but had prepared a plate for him and sat across from him, both hands around her coffee mug, while he dug in.  Somewhat cautiously, Kane sampled the meal and was pleasantly surprised to discover that it tasted every bit as good as it smelled.  It had been long time since someone had cooked for him.  He devoured everything she put in front of him, including second and third helpings.

“If this is how you apologize,” he said finally, wiping his mouth, “then feel free to run out into a storm anytime.”  She smiled at that, and damn if it didn’t just warm his chest.  What the hell was wrong with him?  He made sure to keep his features stern and his eyes hard.  The last thing he needed was her thinking she could get to him.  Because she couldn’t.

“No more storm running,” she promised.  “But I promise I’ll be out of your hair as soon as it’s safe to leave.”

His last mouthful of coffee went down slowly. 
Not part of the plan.  Shit. 
Maybe he was going to have to play nice after all. 

“You’re not in my hair,” he said, helping himself to more coffee, mainly to avoid looking at her.  “And you are a hell of a kitchen wench.”

She laughed at his response, a patient, indulgent chuckle.  “Yeah, and you always look like you’re about to chew off your own arm to escape.”

He frowned.  Did he really look like that, he wondered?  If he did, it was only because he wasn’t sure what female he would be facing next time he turned around – the scared-to-death cub, the feisty stubborn wench, or the unbelievably soft and vulnerable woman who had covered him with a blanket and made him breakfast. 

“Yep,” she said, nodding emphatically.  “Just like that.”

He smiled ruefully.  “I guess I’m just not used to being around women like you.”

“Like me?” she asked, puzzled.  “Am I so different from other women?” 

“Hell, yes,” he said a little too quickly. He could count on one hand the number of females that had riled him so quickly.  Even less was the number of those able to practically knock him on his ass with a look from those violet eyes or a soft-spoken apology.  Yet more reasons why having her here was not the best of ideas.

A frown creased her brow.  Could she sense his frustration?  Thankfully, she didn’t call him on it.  Well, not directly anyway.

“So you are telling me you don’t make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress?”

“No,” he barked the word out with a laugh.  If she only knew how ridiculous that question was.  She looked at him oddly, her gaze penetrating far deeper than he would have liked, but thankfully, dropped the subject moved to a safer topic:  the weather.

“So... how does it look out there?”

Dare he lie to her?  He had a feeling she’d be able to tell if he did.  Those eyes of hers were like lasers, scanning him every time she locked on target.  He found it very disconcerting. 

Full disclosure was not an option.  He might be able to emphasize some things more than others.  That would provide the perfect excuse to keep her here for a few days.   

“The path we came in on is blocked in several places – downed trees.  It’s still raining like hell, and after the dryer than normal season, there’s a very real danger of mudslides.”  It was true enough.  He neglected to mention that there was more than one way out, and that he and his brothers had constructed escape routes in case of any event.

Or that she would be staying here with him until his brother came to claim her.

She bit her lip, clearly concerned.  He knew she was calculating her chances of departure.  He could have told her they were pretty much zero, regardless of the weather.  “We’re not in any immediate danger here, though,” he reassured her.  “As long as we use some common sense.”

* * *

T
aryn ignored his pointed remark.  It irked her, though even she had to admit it was well-deserved.  She sighed inwardly.  Once again Fate was making decisions for her.  She fingered her cross absently as she considered her options. 
Help me, Charlie
.

“That’s an unusual piece,” he observed, his eyes locking onto the movement.  “Irish?”

She looked down at it, surprised to find it in her hand.  “Yes.  Someone very special gave it to me.”  She exhaled, and offered him a sad little smile.  “Charlie was like a father to me.  He took me in when I had no one else, treated me as his own.”   

“Was?”

“He passed away last year.”  Little warning bells sounded in the back of her head.  She shouldn’t be telling him any of this.  Any information she divulged was potentially life-threatening to both of them.

“I’m sorry.”  His voice was a soft rumble, but oddly soothing and sincere.  It helped lessen the ache that always came when she thought of the old man.  After his death, she hadn’t had anyone to talk to, to share her grief with.  It felt good to say his name again, to speak out loud about how much he’d meant to her.

“I am, too.  Sometimes I feel like he’s still with me, though,” she said softly, “trying to help.” 

Except that no one could help her, not really.  It was beginning to sink in now – the fact that she was alone, and would have to remain that way as long as she wanted to survive.  It had been so easy to believe that her time with Charlie would last indefinitely.  Now she wasn’t sure she could believe in anything anymore.

“How so?”  His voice had become soft like hers, coaxing, drawing her out, making her actually want to tell him. 

“Well,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed to be sharing this with him. He certainly didn’t seem to be the type to believe in anything that wasn’t one hundred percent tangible.  She’d only been in his presence for a few hours, but he was definitely the type to see things in black and white.  And her life had a hell of a lot of gray.

“Take last week, for instance.  I’m driving down the interstate, and my car dies.  I ended up in this little town, bartending for these great guys for a couple of days while my car was in the shop.” 

She felt another very real, very physical ache when she thought of Ian and Jake, of how easy it had been to be around them, of how wonderful it had felt to be in Jake’s arms.  She missed them terribly – especially Jake – which made no sense to her whatsoever.  She had only been around them a few days, yet somehow they had managed to ingrain themselves in her heart so deeply that she would never forget them. 

“Sounds fun,” he replied doubtfully.  “So you’re a bartender?”

She nodded.  “Charlie had an old-fashioned Irish pub.  From the day I turned eighteen I worked behind the bar.”  She smiled fondly at the memory.  “Not exactly a career choice most women aspire to, I guess, but I enjoy it.  When I saw the chance in Pine Ridge, I jumped at it.  Had a blast.”

“So why’d you leave?”

Taryn shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable.  It was a perfectly logical question; to not answer it would seem suspicious.  “It was a temporary arrangement, only until I could get my car back and get back on the road.”  She looked her hands, not at him.  “Except my car couldn’t be fixed...” 

“So how did you end up at the truck stop with two guys chasing you?” 

Her face darkened.  “It’s complicated.”  She wasn’t sure she understood it herself.  She still hadn’t been able to come up with a rational explanation for why Shane and Kieran had been following her.  None that she was willing to accept, anyway.  If they were the bad guys, then her last sliver of hope for humanity in general would be gone forever, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to continue on if that turned out to be the case.

“Try me.”

For a moment - for one, crazy, totally insane moment - she thought about telling him the truth, all of it.  Kane was so easy to talk to, and just telling him the little bit she had lifted some of the weight from her overburdened shoulders.  Not another soul alive knew her story; not the whole story, anyway.  Some little part of her argued that if she died today, there would be no one who knew what really happened ten years ago.  Okay, so maybe she had never quite found the courage to come forward after her escape, but who would have believed her?  And if she came forward now?  Even she had to admit that it would be hard to believe she’d been in hiding all this time.

And who would she tell anyway?  A cop?  The FBI?  She wouldn’t even make it out of the building before someone silenced her permanently.  Still, as long as she lived, there was a chance that she could find a way to bring the bastard to justice.  She wouldn’t even mind if she died in the process.  As long as she managed to take Gavin Howard down with her.

She opened her mouth to say something, then clamped it shut.  Kane seemed like one of the good guys, but could she be sure?  And assuming he was, telling him anything would immediately put his life in jeopardy.  Looking at him now, it was impossible to believe anything could harm him.  He seemed every bit as hard and unyielding as the granite cliffs he’d told her about.  But Taryn knew better.  Even big, strong men couldn’t survive a shot to the head or one in the heart.

K
ane held his breath.  He saw the truth flit across her face like clouds in a summer breeze.  Would she confide in him?  She wanted to, no doubt about it. 
Come on, baby.  Tell me.  Tell me...

He knew the moment she made up her mind.  Her eyes cleared and her expression closed again.  She would not be sharing with him today.

“What about you?” she said, changing the subject.  “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

Kane shrugged.  “What do you want to know?”  He was walking a thin line and he knew it, but he needed to build up her trust.  There were ways to do that without being completely honest. 

“What do you do for a living?  What’s your family like?  Are you married?”  Kane smiled at that last question and decided to address it first.

“No, I’m not married, never have been, doubt I ever will be.  My family is big and loud, real pains in the ass, really, but fiercely loyal.  And I’m a mercenary.” 

He expected a reaction from his last divulgence, but she didn’t even seem to notice, surprising him once again by doing the unexpected.

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why don’t you want to get married?”

He scrambled for an answer, came up with nothing he wanted to share.  He shook his head.  “Uh-uh.  If you get a bye, so do I.  My turn to ask a question.” 

She leaned back in her chair a little, an amused grin tugging at her lips.  “Fair enough.  But I reserve the right not to answer.”

“As do I.  But what we do choose to answer, we do so honestly.  Agreed?”  She inclined her head in acceptance of his terms.  As long as not answering was an option, it wasn’t that big of a deal.  It was kind of interesting, he thought, that she would trust him to keep his word. 

“Go ahead,” she prompted.

“Tell me about your dragon.”  The image had been haunting him since it had flashed its eyes at him the night before.

“That’s not a question.” 

He raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.  “And that’s not an answer.”

“Alright.  His name is Draic,” she said in hushed tones.  “He is my
cosantóir
.”

“Your protector?” Kane asked, recognizing the word from stories his great-grandfather used to tell all the boys long ago; ancient stories of fiery dragons and brave men. 

“You know that?” she said, surprised, the ghost of a smile hovering on her lips.

“Aye,” he said with a little smile of his own.  “’Tis a word used in many tales of my brave clan.  How does he protect you?”