Guarded Heart (13 page)

Brook spoke up for herself. “But I wouldn’t have been much
use to him.”

He shot Brook a look of exasperation. Did she really think
being wounded would have made her useless to him?

Brook continued speaking to the Healer. “Send your bill to
Kyle Destan of the Rangers. He’ll have it paid at once.
”

“No,” Morgan said. “I’ll pay the—”

“Morgan, we should be on our way,” Brook said. “The
groceries in the trunk won’t keep forever.”

What groceries? They hadn’t bought any—

The fire inspector! How could he have forgotten about the
man
hogtied in the trunk? Thank Neptune he could make the inspector forget
everything he’d endured today.

Brook strode for the door. Morgan started after her before
realizing he ought to thank the Healer again. “Your quick response is greatly
appreciated.”

“It’s what we do,” the Healer said.

He turned, finding Brook staring narrow-eyed at the pair of
them. Was she jealous?

Wishful thinking.
Being jealous would require her to
care. Brook only cared about her career.

“Keys?” she asked once he was within a few feet in the
parking lot.

He begrudgingly gave up the keys. The brief interval where
she’d needed him was officially over. How sad that he resented her health.

She waited until they were both within the car’s cabin
before speaking again. “We need someplace quasi-remote we can take the fire
inspector.”

“There’s an abandoned factory a mile from here.”

“Only one?”

Morgan’s fingers tightened into a fist. It had been a few
days since she’d insulted his territory. He’d hoped she’d come to appreciate it
as he did. Clearly that wasn’t going to happen. If she didn’t care for the
locale, didn’t care for him and finished the job, she’d have nothing to keep
her here. He slumped farther into the seat.

Brook ignored the brooding slouch Morgan had adopted. He was
hot and cold today. Her fault, no doubt. Or was it that gorgeous and oh so
feminine Healer’s fault?

The abandoned factory turned out to be the perfect place to
leave a pesky fire inspector. There was enough traffic to obfuscate their
arrival but fences to keep their activities appropriately secret.

“Stay in the car,” she said as she pulled the keys out of
the ignition.

“Can you alter memories? You need me—”

“
Stay
in the car.”

No way was she about to let him near a potentially
brainwashed assassin. Not when he was probably the trigger. Brook slid out of
the car, checking all directions for witnesses. She paused and made sure Morgan
wasn’t planning to step in despite her wishes.

Then she opened the trunk. The fire inspector was still
unconscious. She pressed a finger to his neck. His pulse throbbed against her
skin. He remained motionless as she hoisted him out. Similarly he failed to
budge even after she’d cut all but one of the knots binding him.

Brook called on the aether, lassoing magic and sending it
into the fire inspector. Silently she willed him to wake. His eyelids fluttered
and then he jerked upright. A pained groan worked its way out of his throat.

“What—”

“Why did you attack my friend?”

“Attack? What do you mean? Ugh. My head is pounding. What
happened?”

“You attacked my friend Morgan Seaton.”

Fury trickled across the empathic link. It wasn’t powerful
but it was enough to prove some bad emotion was associated with Morgan.

Yet the fire inspector blinked blankly at her. “The guy who
owns that lake house that blew up?”

“Yes, that one. Why did you attack him?”

“I didn’t attack anyone. The last thing I remember was
telling you both about accelerants… Where the fuck are we?”

What had been the last word Morgan had said before the
attack?

Brook braced her legs apart, readying for a fight. “Do you
like taking
risks
?”

“Risks? Is this some sort of come-on?”

She barely resisted the urge to snort.

What else had Morgan said? Could it be… “Why would it be a
come-on? Are you into environmentalists?”

The blast of ill will hit her like a swell. The fire
inspector charged her. Brook punched him across the cheek. The snap back gave
her enough time to channel more Water magic. Frantically she worked on
countering the magic that had already been done to him.

A phone rang—his phone. He immediately settled down. Calmly
he lifted the mobile phone out of his pocket and accepted the call. He set it
to his ear but failed to greet the caller. The inspector’s hearing had to be
abysmal given how easily she heard both sides of the conversation.

“Has it been done?” a mechanical voice asked.

Brook silently willed the inspector to lie.

“Yes,” he said.

The call disconnected.

“Give me your phone,” she said, backing up the demand with a
heavy dose of magic.

Time to get Kyle and his team on the trail of whoever had
called the fire inspector. If it was
any
Water witch, then they had
their culprit.

* * * * *

“
We’re just going to
leave him here?”

Abandoning the vanilla human fire inspector didn’t feel right
to Morgan.

“He tried to kill you,” Brook said as the lonely figure in
the factory parking lot grew smaller in the side mirror.

“You verified he was brainwashed with a trigger word. It’s
not his fault.”

“No, it’s not. But he’s still brainwashed to kill you. We
don’t have time to fix that. Not with the intel I just got.”

“What intel did you just get?”

“Someone called him and asked if it was done while I was
testing the trigger. I had Kyle trace the call. It came from Norman Foster’s
phone.”

Morgan slumped fully into the seat, staring unseeing out the
windshield. “So that’s it then. My own uncle is trying to kill me.”

Brook said nothing. Was that better than an I-told-you-so?

“What do we do now?”

“
We
do nothing.” Brook crept onto the main drag far
too slowly for Morgan’s taste. “
I
get you to the local Ranger’s office
where they can keep you safe. Now that I have reasonable doubt, I’ll go after
Norman Foster. We’ll interrogate him once we have him in custody.”

“Interrogate?”

She nodded once. “All Ranger offices are equipped with
weaved interrogation chairs. He won’t be able to fight our will. We’ll find out
who his accomplice is.”

“And if it’s Irvin?”

“Then I’ll go out for one more pickup.”

“I don’t want you going for Irvin alone.” But that wasn’t
all he was worried about. “You shouldn’t go for Norman alone either. These men
are experienced.”

“I’m experienced too. This is my job.” Her cool tone implied
he’d insulted her.

But Morgan wasn’t ashamed that he was worried about her.
“Nevertheless, I’d feel better if you didn’t go alone.”

“Not that it’s your call, but it’s standard Ranger protocol
to take backup when bringing in a suspect for interrogation. I won’t be alone.”

“Good. And I want to witness the interrogation.”

“You got bossy.” Was that a wry expression on her beautiful
face?

Morgan couldn’t resist a teasing response. “I thought I was
suited to my position and could give High Priest Marino a run for his money.”

Brook quietly chuckled. But it was a
laugh
all the
same. He clamped his lips together to keep from beaming like an idiot. That was
the second time he’d amused icy Brook Calder.

“You are,” she said.

That would have made his day if he hadn’t discovered his
flesh and blood plotted to murder him.

She pulled the rental car into the parking lot of a small
business marked with an insurance sign. This was nearly it. While he should
have been more concerned with her safety, he instead thought only of how close
they were to the end. Brook would bring Norman in, she’d interrogate him for
Irvin’s name and then she’d breeze out of Morgan’s life, leaving him
brokenhearted and more alone than ever.

The worst part of the whole thing was he’d
known
this
was going to happen and he
’
d done
nothing to stop it. No, instead he’d
urged
it on faster. Now he’d pay
the price.

* * * * *

The expression on her face was that of a doctor breaking bad
news. Then it was true. His uncle
had
tried to kill him.

Morgan gripped his thighs tighter as she grabbed a wooden
chair, swiveled it around and sat in it backward. He’d already waited two hours
on pins and needles, grinding his teeth because they hadn
’
t let him observe. She was killing him
with this delay.

“Just tell me,” he said. “Quickly.”

“Norman Foster did plot to kill you.
”

Morgan stared, hardly believing someone within his covens had
planned and carried out assassination attempts.

“The money he withdrew
was
meant for the vanilla
human duo with the guns that appeared on my first day here,” she said.
“Similarly a five-thousand-dollar withdrawal from Foster’s account last month
went to the male who pulled a gun on you in Macy’s—the incident that prompted
you to bring in the Rangers. That human didn’t get the other portion of his fee
because he failed. The thirty thousand dollars meant for the duo was used to
purchase the C-4 that blew up your lake house.”

Morgan couldn’t stand the wait. “What about Irvin? Was he
involved?”

Brook’s knuckles went white as she gripped the chair back.
“We weren’t able to get anything out of Foster about an accomplice or who the
second figure was that the duo mentioned in the beginning. He says he compelled
the humans to believe there were two of them.”

There was no accomplice? Brook had made him question
everyone
he trusted and loved only to discover the culprit was a sore loser Morgan
barely knew?

But there were things that didn’t add up—facts Brook had
mentioned over the past few days. “How did Foster know I’d be at the mall that
first day or that I wasn’t at home the night the lake house blew up? I thought
you said someone would have had to know my schedule.”

Brook pried open pursed lips. “Foster was at the charity
function. And he also compelled a neighbor to notify him of your movements.”

Was that all it was? A neighbor tattling on him?

“And the fire inspector?” Morgan asked. “That was some
high-level compulsion. Is Foster really that good?”

“Foster is also responsible for the inspector’s brainwashing
and trigger word, yes.”

Brook’s tight answer implied she wasn’t pleased to admit she
was wrong. Yet…she hadn’t admitted it. She merely stated facts as she’d learned
them.

“So my uncle had nothing to do with this?”

“It does not appear so.
”

“And Mira?”

“Foster made no mention of anyone else except the vanilla
humans we encountered.”

Morgan stared at her, willing her to apologize for turning
his life upside down with her theories—for making him question those he was
closest to. Brook stared back.

She got to her feet and swiveled the chair back in place.
“I’ll be transporting Foster to the detention facility in Arizona tomorrow. The
Coalition will hear the case next month. You’ll be contacted about giving your
testimony over the phone within the week.”

Brook walked to the door that hid the useful bowels of the
Rangers’ home base from prying eyes. She paused, curling her fingers around the
wood and looked back. The soft set of her eyes tightened Morgan’s insides. This
was the moment, the one that would make or break him.

“Irvin will be here shortly to take you wherever you want to
go. Let us know if the Rangers can be of service in any way in the future,
Priest Seaton.”

Brook swung the door wide and then disappeared behind it.
Morgan gaped at the wood.

He was Priest Seaton again?

Morgan wished he could blame her formality on the
location—the Rangers’ office. But he knew better. She was back to her icy,
unapologetic self and it had nothing to do with her job.

When Irvin stepped into the waiting area, Morgan tried to
feel relieved. He wasn’t as alone as he’d feared he’d be. His uncle hadn’t
plotted to be rid of the competition. The only thing Morgan could feel was
gutted, made all the worse because he’d willfully invited the pain.

He paused at the exit behind Irvin, foolishly hoping for a
last-minute reprieve. The building was silent and forbidding in response.
Morgan forced himself across the threshold back into reality.

Brook stepped off her second flight of the day, exhausted
from days without any true rest. She arrowed through the crowd and hailed a
cab. The brief trip several thousand miles in the air and then down again
hadn’t given her much time to think. Soon she’d be called upon for an answer.

She barely noted the cab’s progress through the city. But
she did note the driver’s demand for money once they’d arrived at the
destination. Brook tossed a bill over the seat and then forced herself out of
the car.

Several Rangers nodded respectfully at her as she strode
toward the back of the building. She stepped into her boss’s outer suite.

Judy sent her a bright smile. “Welcome back, Brook. Let me
buzz him that you’re here.”

She nodded and hovered near the chairs lining the wall.

Kyle Destan’s voice echoed over the phone speaker. “Send her
in.”

Brook followed the direction before Judy gave it. Moments
later she sank into a cushioned chair in front of her boss’s desk. His
medium-length brown hair was on the edge of wild as always, causing the usual
itch to grab a pair of shears and trim. Piercing dark eyes held hers, seeing
the things she hid both beneath the surface and much deeper.

Master Destan shook his head twice and gave a small chuckle.
“You’re in love with him.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Kyle,” she said between clenched
teeth. “Yes, I did get Norman Foster to the detention center in Arizona without
incident. Thanks for worrying after my safety.”

“If I had to worry after your safety I wouldn’t be about to
raise you to Master level rank and give you a coveted promotion.”

Brook avoided his steady gaze, instead staring at the
carpet. Master level was what she’d dreamt of for years. The promotion was
beyond her imaginings. So why was she miserable?

“Maybe I should withhold both until you resolve your
feelings for Priest Seaton.”

Her attention came up, fixing on a disgustingly smug Kyle.
“My feelings are resolved.”

Yes, she did care about Morgan. Far more than she wanted to.
There were so many reasons to avoid her feelings and him. Chief among them was
that she’d never felt anything this strongly before.

And he hadn’t asked her to stay. Morgan had let her walk out
of his life without so much as a thank you. How badly could he want her if he
hadn’t fought for her?

“You didn’t tell him about the promotion,” Kyle said. “He
called asking for your California address so he could have your box shipped to
you.”

“My box?”

“Yes, apparently the post office had a snafu with your
weapons and they were finally delivered to the destroyed lakefront lot.”

The missing weapons box! Brook had forgotten all about that.
She hadn’t asked Norman Foster about its disappearance. She
was
slipping
if she’d neglected that.

Did she
deserve
a promotion?

Kyle
’
s knowing
expression deepened. “Why didn’t you tell Priest Seaton that you’d be staying
in the area?”

“I thought it would only complicate the job.”

“Okay…but why didn’t you tell him after the job was
finished?”

Brook shrugged. “It seemed like a bad idea to reveal a
promotion I didn’t have yet.”

Kyle snuffled—a sound that implied disappointment.

Perhaps he had a good reason to be disappointed in her. This
job had been her worst work to date. It didn’t matter that the culprit had been
found in the end.

Her boss got to his feet. “Let’s get this over with so I can
get the paperwork going for the promotion.”

“What
’
s
this
?”

“The ceremony for Master level.” Kyle pressed the button on
his phone. “Judy, is everything set?”

“Yes, Master Destan. Everyone is waiting in the conference
room.”

Brook remained seated even after her boss crossed the room.
He stopped at the door, glancing back. “Are you ready?”

Was she ready to accept the one thing she’d thought she
wanted most?

She got to her feet and lethargically started after.

Now, so close to getting what she’d worked years toward,
Brook could think only of how much she’d screwed up. And for once her career
wasn’t at the forefront of her thoughts.

Getting close to her client had been a bad idea. If this had
been a test, she’d surely failed it. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to regret
the time they’d had together.

Brook stepped in front of her peers, feigning a smile she
didn’t feel as Kyle began the formalities of bestowing a new rank on her.
Master level and a promotion now felt like hollow victories.

Morgan hadn’t fought for her. But why would he? He hadn’t
known about the promotion. No doubt he’d assumed asking her to stay would be
asking her to give up her job.

He’d been kind even at the end. How typically Morgan.

He deserved a better witch than she was. But she didn’t want
him to have anyone else. She selfishly wanted him all to herself.

I want Morgan.
It was freeing to finally admit it to
herself. Now it was time to let down her guard and give him a chance to reject
her. That would be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

But she’d do it. For him.

* * * * *

Morgan should have put the
Do Not Disturb
sign on the
door before he’d gone to bed. Or any of the numerous times he’d gotten up in
the middle of the night. Housekeeping didn’t need to change the sheets. Not
when he had little intention of getting out of bed today.

He’d spent yesterday assuring his covens he was very much
alive. And he’d broken the news about Norman Foster’s plot. Today he’d allow
himself the luxury of brooding alone in his hotel room. Tomorrow would be soon
enough to find a new place to stay while the lake house was rebuilt.

The double knock repeated. Morgan inhaled a grumble. He
hauled himself out of bed, not bothering to grab his discarded shirt or slacks
from the floor. His hand closed around the knob, twisting it quickly so he
could wrench open the door.

Words meant to send his visitor away stalled in his throat.
Room service had never been so alluring. Brook Calder stood in a red silk dress
that fell to just above her knees. A large paper bag with a restaurant logo
hung from her arm and a bottle of wine was nestled in her armpit. Morgan barely
saw any of it. His attention slid over her, from her painted face to the
nipples puckered beneath the thin fabric. Arousal gripped his cock at an
alarming speed.

“Irvin thought you probably needed dinner,” Brook said, as
if it explained what she was doing
here
looking like
that
.

The only things he could think of were smearing her
bright-red lipstick with his mouth and discovering what she wore beneath her
sexy dress.
Why
was she wearing a dress when jeans and T-shirts were her
usual fare?

She tilted her head to the right. “Was he wrong?”

Morgan croaked. “No. What are you doing here?”

Brook blinked a pair of innocuous and smoky-shadowed eyes
that looked all wrong on her face. “Bringing you dinner.”

“What are you doing in Indiana when you should be in
California or on your next job?”

“Can I come in?”

If she came in, her dress would be coming off and he’d be
fucking her up against the closed door.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Morgan said
hoarsely, desire strangling his throat and gripping his every muscle.

“I didn’t want to be a hard-ass but you’re forcing me. You
don’t get dinner unless I can come in.”

Talk of hard-asses did little to ease his raging erection.
Fortunately she couldn’t see it behind the half-open door.

“I don’t want dinner,” he said.

Irritation flared in her icy eyes. He nearly groaned aloud
at how sexy she looked in that moment—a vision he’d
never
forget.

“I’m not going to apologize in the corridor,” she snapped,
finally giving up on the faux civility that was so foreign to her. “So either
let me in so I can or send me away without ever getting one.”

She was going to apologize?

Morgan stepped back, opening the door fully. She walked in
and glanced around the room before facing him. He grabbed her face before she
could speak. His tongue slipped between the open part in her lips. Morgan
swallowed whatever apology she’d been about to give.

He barely noted the dull thud of the paper bag hitting the
ground but he noted when her arms came around his shoulders. The silk of her
dress slid along his skin, a teasing barrier between them. Taut nipples brushed
his chest.

Morgan shoved her against the closed door as he’d imagined
doing. His fingers found their way beneath her skirt. He skimmed her thigh to
the heated place between her legs, discovering she wore
nothing
beneath
the dress. A groan ripped out of his throat. He needed inside her. Now. But if
she were fertile it could mean a child. As much as he wanted an excuse to bind
her to him, he wouldn’t take away her choice.

He dropped both arms beneath her thighs, lifting her to him
and grinding his cock into her pussy. It was a sinful experience despite the
thin layer of his boxers between them. Brook clamped her legs around his hips
as he carried her across the room. On and on she kissed him, twirling her
tongue with his in a way that left little doubt she desired him.

He settled her on the bed, drawing up so he could kiss her
neck, her collarbone and the bare skin above her bodice. Morgan squeezed a
silk-coated breast. He dropped his mouth to the pebbled nipple. One strong suck
on the fabric had her back arching toward him.

“Morgan,” she gasped.

He left her and crouched near his slacks, fumbling with the
pockets until he found the condom he’d left in them days ago. Quickly he shucked
his boxers, tore the foil and rolled the latex over himself.

Brook opened her thighs wide, rolling her skirt up as she
did. An invitation he’d never thought he’d get again.

He stared silently, taking in the temptation of her. Brook’s
full red lips were puffed from his attack at the door. Lipstick smeared above
and below her mouth, no doubt the match for his own. Her golden hair was extra
tousled from where he’d rolled her head on the bed with his kisses. One red
silk strap had fallen over her shoulder, revealing the top of one breast. Below
the skirt was the perfect enticement—a bare, glistening pink pussy open for his
invasion. But it was the vulnerability shining in her eyes—no longer icy but
instead heated with desire—that caught his heart in its grip.

He loved her. And she’d come back. He didn’t know why but he
was no fool. She wouldn’t leave again without hearing his feelings. But first,
he had to fuck her.

Brook drew her lower lip between her teeth, knowing the red
lipstick she’d painstakingly painted on was probably twice as smeared as the
hue that stained Morgan’s mouth. He stood feet from the bed, staring at her as
if he were a deer caught in headlights—only this deer was nude with an
impressive erection. He’d pulled away for a condom and then frozen.

Was he having second thoughts? There’d been a few moments in
the corridor where she’d feared he’d send her away. But once she’d gotten
inside, things had gone far better than she’d imagined. Until now.

She could help with second thoughts. Brook reached for the
zipper on the back of her dress.

“Don’t.” His hoarse voice sent a thrill through her. “Not
yet.”

Morgan knelt on the edge of the bed. His ocean fragrance
washed over her, drawing forth sexy memories of the last time he’d been nude.
He closed the distance between them without another word and sank between her
open thighs. Pressed above her, he was solid, warm and real—so unlike the
fantasies that had plagued her since she’d left the cabin.

His tongue plunged through her mouth, hand fisting in her
hair before he followed through with a hard thrust of his cock inside her.
Morgan’s intense kiss threatened to steal more than her heart.

The dress had done what she’d hoped. Lust had gotten her
through the door. She’d imagined he’d expect the apology and outpouring of
emotion before he’d take advantage of the outfit. But this worked. This was
probably better. They’d both be relaxed when she said what she’d come to say.

Brook coiled her legs around him, drawing him closer. He
groaned against her lips. And then thrust harder, reaching the depths of her
trembling core. Her breath caught and eyes rolled up into her head at the
heated swells. Each new thrust was a skillful stroke designed to strip away a
little more of her protective shell until Brook lay open and bare except for a
thin scrap of silk.

His fingers scrabbled behind her for the zipper in between
driving his cock deeper. Morgan tugged the dress over her head, tossing it
aside so he could fasten his hot mouth over her bare breast.

Nothing protected her from him. She found herself smiling.
His head came up, catching her happy expression. Morgan released a low groan.

“I love you.”

They stilled, each gaping at the other. Somehow they’d
manage to speak the words at precisely the same moment. Intuition? Or something
deeper?

Emotion clogged Brook’s throat. Though she’d known he had
feelings for her, she hadn’t expected
love
so soon. Nor had she expected
him to admit it until she did first.

He croaked almost boyishly. “You do?”

Brook nodded. “Why else would I wear a stupid dress and put
on
makeup
?”

He propped himself onto one elbow, seemingly heedless to his
cock still inside her. “I don’t know. I assumed you meant to seduce me.”

“There might have been a little of that.” She fought a blush
because she’d never tried to seduce a man before Morgan. “I came to apologize
for…everything and thought the dress would help.”