The Guardian: DARYL (Cover Six Security, #2)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Or had she failed her daughter in that as well?

  She'd have the answer to that—and to every other question burning inside her—in just a few short hours.

  In just a few short hours, she'd have Paige back and this would all be over—

  No, it wouldn't be over. It wouldn't be over until Grady Byrne was gone. Out of their lives permanently. She still had to worry about him.

  But not for much longer. Please God, not much longer.

  She shifted again, slid her gaze to the left and studied the man asleep next to her. The men had called him Wolf but he'd told her his name was Sebastian. Neither name fit him. With his shaggy blonde hair and deep green eyes and dimples that had surely made many women swoon and simper, he looked like he belonged on a California beach somewhere. Or maybe in the pages of a magazine, modeling men's underwear.

  He certainly didn't look like he belonged with the small group of men that she'd seen this morning and again an hour ago. That was why she had chosen to sit next to him—because he looked harmless. Because he had smiled at her and winked and patted the empty seat with the tip of one long finger.

  He was perfectly nice to her, engaging her in light conversation, even flirting with her a little and calling her Cinderella. The teasing name brought back a memory and she realized she had met him before—not just him, but two of the others as well—at the resort in the Caribbean the same day she had met Daryl. Sebastian had simply laughed, the sound deep and warm, and said he was glad he'd made such a lasting impression on her.

  But the more she talked to him, the more she realized she had been completely wrong about him. His golden good looks were nothing more than a mask, hiding the predator within. There was something about him, something about the way his eyes remained too steady and too emotionless, even when he smiled, that made her realize he was exactly like those other men.

  Maybe even more dangerous than the others, even the one with the surprisingly blue eyes. At least the other men looked exactly like what they were: warriors. Men accustomed to war and violence. Men who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted.

  Kelsey shifted again, turned her head the slightest bit to the right. She could just make out Daryl's profile in the seat ahead of her. He was facing toward the dark window. Asleep? Maybe. Or maybe, like her, he was alone with his thoughts.

  Alone with his own demons.

  She shouldn't care. Shouldn't feel any sympathy for him at all. He had planned on leaving her behind. On handing her off to someone she didn't know or trust while he went to get her daughter. Paige was her daughter, and he wasn't even going to take her with him.

  She had been angrier about that—was still angry—than she had been when she overheard his plan to use her as bait to draw out Grady Byrne. No, he hadn't said as much, not in those exact words, but she still understood what he hadn't said. So had the other men. What did it say about her that she didn't care? That she actually agreed with Daryl? Yes, she had wanted to scream. Use me. Anything. As long as it keeps Paige safe.

  Anything, as long as it kept her daughter safe.

  No, she wasn't angry about that part, even though a small rational piece of her mind said she should be. Her anger—her fury—was because Daryl had planned on keeping her from her daughter. So she had lashed out, had thrown his own personal tragedy in his face, trying to hurt him the way she was hurt.

  And it had worked. God, it had worked too well. She had seen the pain in his eyes. Sharp. Brittle. Had felt it, straight to the center of her own heart. She had wanted to take the words back as soon as they left her mouth—before they left her mouth. Wished she had never said them to begin with. How could she have been so deliberately cruel, knowing what the loss of his daughter had cost him? Her own anger wasn't an excuse for what she'd done, not when she knew exactly how he felt.

  But it was done. Over with. She had thrown the words in his face, had hurt him. There was nothing she could do about it now. And she shouldn't care. He was nothing to her, just a means to an end. The way she was nothing to him, nothing more than a distraction.

  Kelsey closed her eyes, leaned her head against the seat.

  She was such a liar. Had been lying to herself for the last three months. If he really meant nothing to her, she would have stopped thinking about him the morning she left his bungalow. But she hadn't stopped. Instead, she'd done something totally idiotic and completely out of character for her.

  She'd fallen in love.

  Not with the man himself, not really. She didn't know him, couldn't possibly fall in love with him. But it had been thoughts of him that had kept her going these last three months.

  And maybe that was the problem. Maybe she had built up a huge fantasy surrounding him, this man her father trusted. A man who would protect and guard her. A man strong enough to slay the fiercest dragon of all time. A hero. No, not just any hero—

  Her hero.

  Yes, that was exactly what she had done. Created a fantasy, weaving it with unbreakable threads of hopes and dreams and promises, building on the fairytale until she had fallen in love with the mythical hero who would swoop in and save the day. The hero who would rescue her and her daughter.

  Except he wasn't a mythical hero—he was a flesh-and-blood man with his own weaknesses. His own demons. A man very capable of feeling real pain.

  Pain she had caused.

  Oh, Daddy, what have I done?

  She waited, needing to hear her father's voice. Needing his advice, now more than ever. But her father was silent.

  Kelsey opened her eyes, glanced over once more at Daryl. He hadn't moved, was still staring out at the darkness visible through the small window. She pushed to her feet, made herself move before she lost all courage.

  She sat down next to him, careful to keep space between them—not an easy thing to do on such a small airplane. Not an easy thing to do when the man beside her took up so much room. He still didn't move, not even to glance her way. Did he even know she was there?

  Of course, he knew. How could he not?

  She shifted in the seat. Cleared her throat. Shifted again. "I—I shouldn't have said—"

  "Go back with Wolf. Get some rest." His voice was low. Flat. Completely emotionless. A chill ran over her, pebbling her skin. Kelsey tugged the sleeves of her coat over her hands, curled her fingers into her palms.

  "I'm trying to apologize—"

  "Don't." He finally turned his head, amber eyes meeting hers. Her heart slammed into her chest as a surprised gasp stuck in her throat. What she saw in those eyes scared her—

  Because they were completely empty. Completely emotionless. This—this was the predator she had sensed below the surface, even when she had first met him three months ago. Common sense told her to move, to do exactly as he had instructed and return to her seat.

  To forget all about fantasies and heroes who could slay dragons. To focus on reality.

  On survival.

  But she couldn't move, not when those cold eyes held her in place.

  He finally broke that eerie eye contact. Kelsey pulled in a deep gulp of air, realized she had been holding her breath the entire time he held her gaze. That she was lightheaded and dizzy because of that, not because of the dead expression in his eyes.

  Dead expression? No, she was being melodramatic. Overreacting. Daryl was right, she should go back to her seat. Close her eyes and at least pretend to rest. She'd been running for too long, had been teetering on the edge of breaking down for far too long. Hadn't been sleeping right, hadn't been eating right—

  And now she was being dramatic. Weaving fantasies, falling in love with mythical heroes—and seeing death in eyes the color of liquid amber.

  But she couldn't make herself leave. Not yet. She had to apologize, had to at least try, one more time. If he didn't accept it—or at least acknowledge it—then that was on him. She could return to her seat knowing she hadn't just simply quit.

  Kelsey reached out, gently rested her trembling fingers on his a
rm, felt the muscles bunch under her touch. "Daryl, I—"

  He stiffened, moved his arm so her hand fell to the side. He didn't say anything, just stood and climbed over her. He paused in the narrow space that passed for an aisle, reached up and removed something from around his neck. He held it in his hand for a long minute then carefully dropped it in her lap.

  "We'll be landing soon. Get some rest."

  Kelsey watched as he took the seat next to Wolf, kept watching long after he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Then she dropped her gaze to her lap, surprised at the tears burning the back of her eyes when she saw the chunk of raw obsidian hanging from a leather cord.

  Her necklace.

  No, his. The one she had carefully placed on the pillow next to him before leaving his bungalow that morning all those months ago.

  I haven't taken it off since the morning you left.

  Until now.

  She scooped the necklace into her hand, cradled the obsidian in her palm. Instead of being cold like she expected, the stone was still warm. From Daryl. From the heat of his body. His essence.

  She curled her hand around the stone and closed her eyes, tried to tell herself it didn't matter.

  And tried to convince herself that she hadn't just lost something she didn't even realize she had.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Daryl rapped his knuckles against the adjoining door then pushed it open, not bothering to wait for an answer. Wolf looked up from the paper he was reading, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

  Daryl ignored him and looked around the small motel room. The bed closest to the door was rumpled and messy, the comforter hanging halfway off the mattress and dangling on the floor. The sheet was off at one corner, revealing the aged mattress cover. Both pillows were stacked on top of each other, shoved against the cheap lacquer headboard.

  The second bed looked like it had barely been slept in. The right edge of the comforter was only slightly crooked, as if someone had pulled it back into place. A single pillow bore a small indentation mark. If not for those two signs—and the well-known fact that Wolf was a fucking slob—Daryl would have been convinced that the two people in the room had shared just one bed.

  He swallowed back an irrational surge of jealousy and pinned one of the people in question with a steely look. Wolf looked back at him, a dimple popping with the sly grin he gave Daryl.

  "Don't look at me. You're the stupid ass who insisted I share a room with her."

  "Where is she?"

  "In the bathroom getting ready. For what it's worth, I don't think she slept at all." Wolf dropped the paper in a careless heap on the cheap table then stood and stretched. "Neither did I. That fucking mattress was uncomfortable as shit."

  Then that made three of them who hadn't gotten much sleep. Daryl had spent most of the night staring at the stained ceiling of the small motel room, wondering what the fuck had possessed him to be so fucking stupid. Wondering why he had insisted that Wolf share the room with Kelsey. Wondering why Kelsey hadn't even blinked an eye at the suggestion, let alone argue about it.

  Would she have agreed as quickly if he'd told her he was sharing the room with her instead? Probably not.

  Why the fuck did he even care?

  He pushed the thought away and strode across the room, placed the cardboard tray holding three cups of coffee and a bag of breakfast sandwiches on top of the newspaper Wolf had carelessly tossed down. How the hell the man had survived military life was a mystery because he was a fucking slob.

  "Is the coffee any good?" Wolf didn't bother to wait for an answer, just grabbed one of the cups from the tray and peeled back the lid. He took a sip, grimaced, then reached for a handful of sugar packs.

  "Do that in the other room."

  Wolf paused, looked up. "Do what?"

  "Fix your damn coffee. In the other room."

  "You trying to get rid of me?"

  "Yeah. Get lost."

  "Not a problem." Wolf grabbed his coffee cup and enough sugar packs to give a dentist a mouth full of cavities and headed toward the adjoining door. He stopped, came back to grab a sandwich from the bag, then headed for the door again. He paused, turned back to Daryl. "Am I coming to your rescue when she beats the hell out of you for being such a dick?"

  "Fuck off. And close the damn door behind you." Daryl thought about throwing something at the other man when he laughed but Wolf closed the door before he could find anything sharp enough. What the hell. It wasn't like Daryl didn't deserve it—he had been a dick. Acting like a fucking baby who'd had his feelings hurt.

  Rude. Cold. Indifferent.

  Pissed.

  Fuck. He was still pissed—at himself. Mac had been right—he was too fucking close to this. Why, he didn't know. But he needed to distance himself from everything, starting now.

  Now? Hell, he'd been trying to do that since last night, when they'd left his place to head back to the small airport to meet the charter plane. Only it wasn't working and he didn't know why. He'd never had this problem before. Had always been able to control his reactions, no matter what. Cool. Calm. Rational—that was how he operated.

  So why was this so fucking different? Why had he acted like a fucking two-year-old throwing a damn temper tantrum because he'd had his feelings hurt?

  He was afraid he knew why—and no way in fucking hell was he going there. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind, pushed everything away except the next few hours.

  Leave here, drive to the children's home.

  Get Kelsey's daughter.

  Go back to the airport where yet another charter would be waiting for them.

  Get Kelsey and her daughter back home—

  No, not back home. Get them someplace safe. That wasn't the same thing as home. And it sure as hell didn't mean his home.

  Okay, yeah. Get them someplace safe, then finesse the plan to flush Byrne out and end this thing once and for all. Kelsey and her daughter would be safe. His obligation to Davis would be fulfilled.

  And Daryl would go on a nice long vacation somewhere. To the mountains, maybe. Someplace where nobody could find him. Someplace where he could just fucking disappear for a month to get his fucking head on straight because he was obviously losing his fucking mind.

  Yeah. Sure. No problem.

  He pulled out a chair and lowered his weight onto it, holding his breath until he was sure it wouldn't collapse under him. Then he sat back and waited for Kelsey to finish whatever the hell she was doing in the bathroom.

  He didn't have long to wait—maybe five minutes at the most. The bathroom door opened and Kelsey came out, a frown on her face as she smoothed the front of the denim shirt she had on.

  "Do you think this is okay? I don't want to look like I'm homeless—" Her voice trailed off as she came to an abrupt stop, her eyes briefly widening in surprise before narrowing. "Where's Sebastian?"

  Daryl ground his back teeth together. Sebastian. Fuck. Just the way she said his name made him want to storm into the next room and rip Wolf's head from his fucking shoulders.

  Yeah, so much for being in control.

  He forced his jaw to relax and motioned to the chair across from him. "Wolf went next door. Have a seat. We need to talk."

  She looked like she wanted to argue with him. Hell, could he blame her? But she bit back whatever she had been ready to say and slowly made her way over to the chair—and pulled it back a good two feet before sitting in it.

  He swallowed back an oath and pushed the paper bag toward her. "Breakfast. Eat up."

  "I'm not hungry—"

  "You haven't had anything since yesterday afternoon, and all you had then was half a sandwich and two spoons of soup. The last thing I need is you passing out on me. Now eat."

  Kelsey didn't bother to hide her scowl—but she reached for the bag and dug out a sandwich, which was all he cared about. He waited until she unwrapped it, raised it to her mouth and took a small bite.

  He took advantage of her distraction to stud
y her. She looked different this morning. Not as tired. Her cheeks were filled with color, no doubt from the anticipation of finally seeing her daughter again. Her hair still had that tousled, wavy look but it seemed shinier, smoother. Less windblown and a little more controlled. Maybe the jeans she had on were a little too loose, the denim shirt just a little too faded—but despite her fears, she didn't look homeless.

  His gaze dropped to the open collar of her shirt, the smooth column of her neck. Her father's dog tags were tucked inside her shirt, with only the chain visible. Another necklace circled her throat, a black leather cord with a chunk of raw obsidian hanging from it.

  The necklace she had left for him. The one he had so carelessly dumped in her lap last night on the plane.

  He pulled his gaze away and focused on the edge of the cardboard tray resting on the table. "We'll leave in fifteen minutes, go straight to the home. Make sure you take everything with you because we're not coming back here. We'll get your daughter, head back to the airport."

  She nodded, grabbed one of the coffee cups and took a long swallow. "Okay."

  Should he count that as progress? Probably not—there was no reason for her to argue with him, not when they were doing what she had wanted him to do all along.

  "When we get back ho—to Maryland, we'll take you and Paige someplace safe until Byrne is taken care of."

  She lowered the sandwich, stared at him with carefully hooded eyes. "Not back to your place?"

  "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

  She nodded and lowered her gaze—but not before he saw the disappointment flash in her eyes. And fuck, he didn't need to see that. Didn't even understand why the fuck she'd be disappointed.

  He ignored the twisting in his gut and kept talking. "Once Byrne is taken care of, we can help you get to wherever you want to go. Find a place for you, help get you on your feet and settled in—"

  "I don't need help. Dad left me—he, uh, he left some things to help me with that."