Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles (6 page)

Jordon may not like him very much, Shay harrumphed and gave the heavy bag another punishing blow, but he was a generous man. He’d given Shay and Henry each five acres of land, both with views of the pond, that same day. Henry and Finn opted to stay at Potter’s Woods and Shay stayed with Jesse, mostly to protect him at the time. Jesse no longer needed anyone to watch his back. Truth be told, even as a kid Jesse took care of himself and tried to take care of everyone else around him too. As far as Shay could tell, if Jesse had a fatal flaw, it was his continuing need to save the world and everyone in it needing saving. Fate and need had made Jesse a caretaker.

Shay threw a left jab, right uppercut, left reverse punch combination followed by a punishing muay thai kick low on the bag, pushing Jesse back a good eight inches, before stopping to catch his breath.

He signaled
enough
by raising one taped fist and moved to retrieve his water. Downing the contents of his sustainable workout bottle Red insisted he use in three long swallows, Shay threw a towel around his shoulders, wiping his face and mouth with one end.

Jesse, still wet from his own time with the bag, moved to the small kitchenette. He pulled a bottle of some evil looking green goo he considered ‘juice’ from the fridge and drank it like a kid with an over-sugared pitcher of Kool-Aid.

“You can’t keep her just because you saved her. You know that, right?” Shay couldn’t read the narrow-eyed look or the grunt Jesse gave before downing the rest of his kale and goddess only knew what other inedible vegetable juice.

“I’m serious, Jesse. She’s not one of your projects. Taryn’s got a life, a very successful one. She doesn’t need fixing or keeping. Don’t get too attached.”

Jesse turned away from him to rinse out his now empty bottle in the sink. Every line on his muscle ridden back was tense, giving him away. “She’s Reed’s daughter, Shay. With any luck she’ll be around. Often.”

“Around Reed, yes, hopefully for Reed’s sake anyway. But you don’t know that for a fact and you can’t force it to happen no matter how hard you try.”

Jesse turned to face him as he threw the towel from his neck at the hamper across the kitchen where the upper and lower laundry unit and service sink were. It hit the hamper with such force it made a slopping sound. Shay raised an eyebrow at his friend and person closest to him besides Red and Sensei Schwartz. Jesse was usually the first to laugh, the last to raise a fist and rarely prone to displays of anger or frustration. However, once Jesse’s ire was raised, Shay didn’t know another person on the face of the earth as potentially lethal, and that included Red.

“I will keep her safe, Shay. No one and nothing will change that.”

“And then what? When this, whatever this is, is over and you no longer have an excuse to keep her near you, are you going to let her go?”

Jesse said nothing. He crossed his arms over hi chest and got that inscrutable look on his face he’d perfected before his fourteenth birthday. Shay shook his head at the folly of trying to move Jesse from his chosen path. That was like trying to move Mt. Everest with a pick-up truck and chain. Because Shay loved him and didn’t want to see Jesse get hurt, he tried again, knowing that once Jesse truly sunk his teeth in it would be too late.

“You remember that whippet puppy you nursed back to health and then fostered for that
perfectly acceptable
family Finn found for her?” Since Morgan, the now ten year old dog in question, was curled on their hand-sewn leather couch she commandeered the minute it was delivered, Shay considered his question moot.

Jesse unclenched his arms and pushed away from the counter, taking a seat next to Morgan, careful not to disturb her. She promptly put her head in his lap, belying the point that Shay was trying in vain to make.

“Just because you feel responsible for her and you bond doesn’t mean she’s going love you and want to put her head in your lap.”

Two sets of eyes looked at him like he was speaking Swahili and even if they could understand him what he was saying had no relevance in their world. The doorbell rang, saving Shay from having to reason with silent man and doe-eyed dog any longer.

Jesse put his feet on the table in front of him and pulled Morgan further into his lap, indicating he was done with his version of talking and Shay could get the damned door. Since he was willing to be done trying to reason with an unreasonable man, Shay trotted down the stairs, grateful for the distraction.

Picking up one of his Walther PPK’s from the bureau near the door, his personal nod to Ian Fleming, Shay flicked off the safety, chambered a round and put it in his waistband at the small of his back. Then checking the side window first, he opened the door.

“Can I help you?” Shay asked, not recognizing the imposing young man with long black curls and large gray eyes.

“I’m looking for a Mr. Shannon O’Shay. Can you tell me if I have the correct residence?”

Shay’s hand clenched the edge of the door, holding it firmly in place. He didn’t recognize the young man, but he recognized the accent and the tenor of the voice. He hadn’t heard either in almost twenty years. A sense of foreboding washed over him, cooling his skin, turning the drops of perspiration to salt crystals that burned his skin and threatened to burn his soul.

“Why are you looking for O’Shay, if I may ask?” Shay said, quite certain he didn’t want to know.

“He’s my father, and I’ve come a long way to see him. Can you direct me to his home? The woman at the grocery said I couldn’t miss it, but apparently I have.”

Shay’s heart hammered in his chest and he felt like a stranger in his skin, like he was observing himself from far away. His voice was clear and precise when he opened the door fully and gestured the young man forward.

“I think you’d better come in.” Shay said, closing the door after his son crossed the threshold.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mary Campbell rushed into the room as Taryn fell, but Merlin held her firmly. “She’s in good hands, Mary”, he whispered, “Let this play out
.
”

Since ‘letting it play out’ suited Mary just fine, she didn’t argue further. Taryn deserved to know her birth mother and Mary would insist, now that they’d found her, that her daughter give them a chance to be a part of her life, no matter how small. With only her and her sister-in-law Olive left, Taryn needed more family to love her.

Mary watched as Jesse Mohr picked up her daughter in his arms. He surveyed the room with a look that promised retribution if anyone tried to stop him from carrying out his duty to protect her. Then he silently walked out with Taryn cradled close to his heart.

Mary entered the library, capturing Reed’s attention. “Tell me that man is not biologically related to our daughter.”

Reed jerked back in her chair, her eyes rounding for an instant as if Mary slapped her. Then she seemed to relax as both of her husband’s hands settled on her shoulders for support. A smile replaced the sudden shock in Reed’s blue-green eyes. Reed’s genuine smile warmed the room with her appreciation for Mary’s not-so-subtle inquiry.

“Jesse is my adopted son. He came to me when he was fourteen.” Reed swallowed hard and seemed to weigh her words carefully.

“After the death of his parents.”

Her smile turned into a grin, making her look younger and naughtier than the elegant woman of the house exterior she presented. “So, no, Jesse is not biologically related to Taryn.”

Reed sobered a bit when her husband cut in. “Our apologies Mrs. Campbell. It appears Jesse’s desire to find Taryn has caused her to become a target. I can assure you neither he nor any of us want Taryn put at risk.”

Reed got up, her face flushing with embarrassment. Mary thought that odd until Reed gestured toward the couch. Please, Mrs. Campbell, sit.” Reed’s eyes flashed to Merlin. “Please sit,
Mr
.?”

Mary spoke before Merlin could as each of them took a seat across from Reed. “Please call me Mary. And this is Merlin, Taryn’s assistant. He was there this morning when the men attacked and helped fend them off.”

Reed quickly introduced Jordon and poured two cups of tea, placing them in front of Mary and Merlin. Jordon looked at Merlin, asking, “How did you manage to…ah…
fend off
Taryn’s attackers?”

Mary felt Merlin squirm next to her. “Golf balls.” He got out before stuffing an over-sized cookie in his mouth. Jordon raised a brow, but didn’t make any further inquiries. Mary was betting he’d get a full accounting from Jesse just as soon as Taryn was settled wherever it was that Jesse was taking her.

“What my husband is trying to say is that we are all sorry this has happened to Taryn. None of us would have knowingly put her in danger. If Jesse had known he was putting Taryn in harm’s way he never would have approached her.”

Mary took a sip of her now tepid tea. She didn’t want anyone misinterpreting what happened this morning and thereby inadvertently putting Taryn at even greater risk. She set her cup down, trying to decide how to tell these incredibly wealthy people that they erroneously made the jump that this was all about them. The truth was much deeper and more complex than that.

“I very much doubt Jesse had anything to do with what happened to Taryn this morning, besides trying to stop it.”

A dog barked in the distance, disturbing a group of song birds. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed the hour. A tense silence fell over the room as Mary took a deep breath and tried again.

“Jesse didn’t put Taryn in danger. All that young man is guilty of is protecting her when I couldn’t. He isn’t to blame for those men attacking Taryn. That dubious honor belongs to my long dead husband and events he set in motion more than a decade ago.”

Mary fished into her small leather bag and retrieved the small box that was delivered to Taryn this morning by special courier. Taryn had taken it to her office this morning and Mary insisted Merlin retrieve it and Taryn’s messenger bag before to coming here.

Opening the box, Mary pulled out a shiny length of sterling silver and gold chain dancing with vintage charms. She held it high, the light making it glow. “I believe those men were looking for this.”

…

Taryn awoke with a tongue in her ear that made its way up the side of her face. It was rough, gritty even, and emanated the combined scent of beef jerky and parsley.
Ick.
Batting the thing away she opened her eyes to be greeted by warm, liquid brown eyes full of unconditional love and a lithe sweet face covered with short cream colored fur. If it weren’t for the dog’s breath, her day might have been looking up.

Wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, Taryn sat up. The dog, curled next to her on a king-sized bed, put a paw on her leg as if to keep Taryn near.

“You sure are a pretty thing. Too skinny, but the nicest warm blooded creature I’ve seen all day. Maybe I’ll take you with me. Fatten you up a bit.” Taryn said, stroking the animal’s sleek fur from head to rump.

“Morgan’s a whippet. Whippets don’t ‘fatten up’. It’s not good for their bones.”

Taryn whipped her head around at the sound of Jesse’s voice and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her head ached like she’d consumed copious amounts of tea laced whisky instead of the other way around. She hadn’t had a hangover in over a decade, and she was pretty sure she didn’t have one now, but the pounding in her temples was worthy of her worst night of tequila induced regret.

The sight of Jesse fresh from the shower, towel a shade lighter than his skin resting low on his hips, drops of water running over his well sculpted ‘V’ shaped back made her groan out loud. She didn’t even try to hide her attraction, what was the point? He seemed perfectly content in his skin, and little else, as he traipsed around the room, retrieving various articles of clothing. He had a tattoo of kanji running half the length of his back from high on his right shoulder to below his shoulder blade, and what looked to be some kind of bird peeking out of the towel on his lower left hip.

Jesse was giving her access to his body in what he must have seen as a non-threatening way, but she was threatened. Not by him, he wasn’t laying on the sexual bravado or sending out waves of I’m-going-to-chain-you-to-my-bed-until-you-don’t-want-to-leave. What threatened Taryn was her desire to run her hand under his towel and explore his bird tattoo with her lips. Worse than that, she wouldn’t stop there once she got started, oh no. She’d run her tongue over the Japanese script, one character at a time as if she could discern its meaning with her mouth and her fingertips.

“You’re an evil man.” She said, catching his gaze as he turned to face her. The pleased, but almost imperceptible raising of the corners of his mouth, told her he understood and appreciated every lascivious thought running through her head.

Nonchalantly, he ran both hands through his still wet hair that was beginning to curl even though it was still heavy with water. The move set off his biceps, giving her an unfettered view of every muscle on his torso. He knew what he was doing to her and yet he seemed content to not push her for a response. She’d seen plenty of bare-chested men and enjoyed looking at most, but she’d never run her hands over one quite this beautiful, or harshly masculine.

Jesse wouldn’t be doing any magazine covers after all, not unless they airbrushed out all of his scars. He had what Taryn recognized as old knife wounds, one about four inches long cutting across his lower left ribs, one cutting diagonally over his left collar bone to just below his heart, part of which bled into another kanji tattoo that was much smaller than the one on his back. He had a pucker scar, no larger than a nickel, on his right pectoral. There were bruises on each side of his rib-cage, some old, some just beginning to turn purplish-blue. There were other small scars peppering his torso like stars in the night sky, testament to a life lived less than gently.

After she’d looked her fill, Jesse allowed his arms to fall to his sides, his biceps pulsed and his nipples hardened under the heat of her gaze. Taryn closed her eyes.