“Get your ass up, you lazy dog. If you fall asleep now, you’ll be toast tomorrow.” Michelle blew into the room like the whirlwind his semi-sister was. He was impressed that she’d knocked at all.
Michelle Bowman was five-ten of maddening redhead—her skin as light as his was dark. They had the same parents, kind of. Ma and Pa had married, divorced, then married other people. Each having a kid, which had then blown up both of their second marriages. So they’d gotten back together and remarried when both Anton and Michelle were three. Yet she insisted that they weren’t stepsiblings. Her answer to what they were kept changing, but for now Michelle was his semi-sister.
Ricardo offered a quiet grimace of apology as he entered behind his wife.
What Anton wanted to do was go watch that woman in the woods some more.
It was hard to tell in the dark, but he was pretty sure that her hair, falling in a thick ragged cut down past her shoulders, was strawberry blonde. No more than five-seven to his six-five, her head had passed below his chin when she’d walked up to him on the trail. But it wasn’t how fine she looked lying on the ground with her jeans tight around her that had captured his attention. Okay, not only that.
He’d liked watching her watch the badgers. Smooth and quiet. A stillness about her that his semi-sister would never understand. She—
“Up, up, you lazy sod,” Michelle slapped a hand hard against his gut. His childhood’s worth of training had his gut muscles already clenched in protection, but it still stung.
“Dammit, Missy. Can’t you let a man rest in peace?”
“A man, sure. But you’re not a man, you’re my demi-brother.”
“Demi-brother?” Despite knowing there was no hope for her going away, he kept lying there just to mess with her.
“Yep! Like not even worth paying full price for.”
“You do know—” Anton turned to Ricardo. “She does know that I can still beat the shit out of her. Right?”
Ricardo held up his hands saying to leave him out of whatever mess this was. Hard to blame the guy. Anton had no idea how he did it. Couldn’t pay him enough to be married to Michelle, even if she wasn’t his demi-semi-whatever-sister. The woman had no idea what it meant to just chill. He supposed that it was the final proof that Delta Force operators were just way more patient than Army Black Hawk pilots.
“Now!” Michelle ground out at him.
Not wanting to get kicked by her Crayola-red cowboy boots, he shoved to his feet and went to stretch—banging his knuckles painfully on the low ceiling.
“Never learn, do you?” Michelle swung out the door and led them downstairs to the pub. He ducked to clear the door jamb and followed. The dinner crowd had faded into convivial groups chatting over a pint and a slice of apple pie or cheesecake.
“Now this is my kinda place.” He’d been too lagged during dinner to really notice it. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what calories he’d shoveled down a couple of hours ago.
The pub was a combo of ancient stone and a white-painted heavy-beam ceiling. The room narrowed toward one end until it held only one round table. Someone with a sense of humor had hung a big picture of the view from an old sailing ship’s bowsprit at the wall behind the table. It definitely felt as if they were on a ship. A double handful of tables lined port and starboard of the room. The stern was a well-equipped bar with eight taps and an impressive little whiskey collection.
“Oh yeah,” Ricardo agreed just loudly enough to be heard over the quiet conversations. No sports screens. No sea shanty group for the tourists. Just folks enjoying each other’s company. More than half looked like locals, two with dogs asleep at their feet.
The table in the bowsprit end of the room opened up. Michelle had the wits to snag it even though others were open. There he could stretch out his legs without tripping up the waitress every time she went by.
Ricardo lagged behind to order the first round at the bar.
“You ready for tomorrow, Missy?” Anton asked after they sat.
“You ever going to stop calling me that?”
“Not as long as it pisses you off.”
“It does.”
“My point.”
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Tomorrow? What do I know about submarine cables?”
“A lot less than you’ll know in a couple days? Don’t worry, I don’t know shit about them either. That’s Hannah and Ricardo’s department.” And…aw, crap. He’d gotten distracted by the fine blonde lying in the woods. In just an hour or so his connection to the place would have faded, and he’d have to retrace the whole damn route to go lookabout there. Double crap on white bread! No one-upping Ricardo tomorrow.
Ricardo showed up with three beers. He pushed a pale ale toward Michelle and took an amber for himself. He passed a stout to Anton.
Michelle looked down at it. “That beer’s darker than you are, little brother.” She might be seven inches shorter than he was, and about as big around as his thigh, but she’d been born to Ma ten days before he’d been born to Pa’s in-between-wife, and had never let him forget it.
He held it up to the light and she was right. It was pitch black. “Good thing I got me such a sweet heart.”
Michelle sneered happily and the three of them clinked their glasses together.
“You owe me the bloody fee and you know it.” Katie had only one other client ever stiff her, a lawyer. “Are you a lawyer?”
“No, I’m a photographer.”
“Well, whatever you are, you owe me my fee, Chas Thorstad.” She thumped a fist on the Ship Inn’s bar for emphasis.
“I don’t have the money, Katie.”
Katie wondered if it would be worth hitting a client, knowing it meant that she would never be paid. He was a good hand taller that she was and strong; if she hit him, it wasn’t likely to turn out well. Of course, most of the folks in the Ship Inn pub knew her and—
Chas seemed to levitate into the air until his feet were dangling near her knees. She stepped back to avoid being kicked as he struggled.
“Lady says you owe her a fee, my friend.” The voice behind Chas was deep and dangerously soft. “Seems to me she earned it.”
Katie looked up, way up, to see the person holding Chas aloft by his jacket collar. He was a giant of black man. His white t-shirt said, “BBQ Pit” in dripping red-sauce letters. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His biceps barely seemed to bulge as he held Chas aloft.
Chas aimed a vicious elbow strike behind him, which didn’t work well with his jacket pinning his arms. It didn’t matter as it bounced off the giant’s shoulder.
The giant shook him once—hard.
Chas stopped struggling.
Still not setting him down, he reached out Chas’ wallet and handed it over. “How much does he owe you?”
She opened the wallet and riffled through the thick wad of pound notes. Screw it! She took her triple fee, then handed the wallet back. That would pay rent on her room for next month.
The giant stuffed it back into Chas’ pocket, then tossed him negligently aside. His aim was perfect.
In midflight, Chas squeaked in panic. Then he slammed against the front door and tumbled out into the street. A brief salty wind blew in from the harbor. Then Clive, still smelling of his day working the fish nets, shut the door and muttered, “Eejit. What a tuss.”
“You okay?” Then the giant looked down at her and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit!”
Katie knew she wasn’t the sort of woman that men said such things about.
Still, he kept staring.
“Do I know you?” She’d meant to thank him for his help, but he was somehow familiar. Not that she’d ever seen him before. There was no possibility of forgetting such a man.
“Yes. No. I know…” He stumbled over his words, shook his head like a wet terrier, then tried again. “I definitely…uh, would remember you.” His words didn’t sound quite truthful. The first part was okay, it sounded like a sincere compliment. Bu
t there was something gone awry in the latter part of that short sentence.
His familiarity bothered her. It was recent. Not the sight of him, but the…feel of him? Now she was getting into her best friend’s Earth-Mother interconnected-universe crap. Dora would already be going on about souls meeting and—
“Uh, look. Glad I was able to help. If you want to join us, me, my friends…” he nodded toward a couple at the bowsprit table. “Well, anyway. It’s a pleasure to actually…uh…meet you in person.”
“In person compared to what?”
He looked at her wild-eyed, grunted something, then picked up the three pints James had pulled for him and hustled off to his table.
She picked up her own pint of Mena Dhu “Black Hill” stout, and tossed James a fiver from her new-found wealth. She took a sip and let the toasted, dark-chocolate taste roll across her tongue.
The giant was familiar. Recently, like…this evening.
However, it had been only her and Chas out at the badger sett.
She chatted with James long enough to find out about Tabby’s newest attempts to take her first steps. His little girl was apparently furious that her body couldn’t yet do what her brain could already picture.
Then she turned, and down the length of the room the big guy was looking right at her over the rim of his glass of the same stout she was drinking. He snorted his swallow, choked, and the tall redhead leaned over to pound him on the back with an easy familiarity—though none too gently. Then she leaned against his shoulder obviously teasing him about something.
Katie knew that she didn’t have much power over men. Definitely not like his redheaded companion must wield. She’d been fairly sure that he’d been flirting with her, if doing an even worse job of that than she would have. Why would he do that when he was obviously so close to the stunning redhead?
Still, the fact that Katie was able to completely discomfit him, and that he’d helped her get paid, led her to nod thoughtfully to the end of James’ story, then stroll down to the table.
“You the one upsetting Anton?” The redhead asked by way of introduction.
“Apparently.”
A holly-berry red cowboy boot shoved out the closest chair. “You just gotta join us. Always glad to meet someone who can mess with my demi-brother’s head. I’m Michelle. This quiet boyo, he’s Ricardo.” She leaned over and kissed him on the temple in a way that clearly stated, “This one is mine,” without appearing to be rude about it.
Ricardo, a sleek Hispanic, tipped his beer glass to her in acknowledgement, then swept it ever so slightly toward the empty chair. Which still didn’t explain what the redhead was to Anton.
“Demi-brother?” Katie sat before she had a chance to really think it through.
“No, don’t—” Anton started, but then yelped. Katie had the distinct impression that Michelle had just kicked his shin under the table with the toe of those red boots.
“Okay, demi is too much. What’s less than half?”
Anton was still watching her a bit wildly. It was getting a little unnerving.
“Less than a demi?” Katie sipped her beer slowly to draw out the moment. “How about a dram-brother?”
“Like a dram of whiskey. How much is that?”
“A dram is an eighth of an ounce.”
“An eighth of a—” Michelle squealed. “That’s perfect! Everyone, raise your glass.” When they all had, she announced loudly enough for the entire pub to overhear. “To my dram-brother and the woman who messes with his head.”
They all clinked glasses, even Anton, and drank to the toast.
He didn’t appear the least put out by Michelle’s declaration of his unimportance.
“Step-sibs,” Ricardo spoke for the first time.
“Dram-sibs!” Michelle turned on him ready for a fight. “We’re nowhere near step-sibs. Thank God!”
His response was to cup her cheek and kiss her very soundly. A choice that softened the hard-edged woman with a surprising abruptness.
“Newlyweds,” Anton whispered in that lovely deep voice of his. His affection for both of the others clear in his tone.
Now she knew where he was familiar from. “Tonight. You were…” But that was impossible. It had been only her, Chas, and the badgers. Yet, somehow, he’d been there.
When she tried to look into his eyes, his gaze slid aside too fast.
“You were there. How? I didn’t see you.”
“Hey,” Michelle reentered the conversation by slapping her dram-brother on his shoulder. “Is that what you were doing earlier?”
“Missy,” Anton growled at her.
“Michelle,” Ricardo’s soft admonishment brought brilliant color to Michelle’s cheeks.
“Uh, don’t mind me.” Then she concentrated on playing with her beer glass though her cheeks continued to flame as brightly as her hair.
“How were you there and not there?” Katie turned back to Anton. The group had shifted from fun to suddenly tense in ways that she didn’t like one bit.
“How did you know I was? Uh, I wasn’t…” Anton struggled.
Katie pushed to her feet. She didn’t need these people. Didn’t want to know any more about—
When she turned to leave, she almost plowed down a beautiful woman only a few centimeters shorter than she was.
No, not just some beautiful woman. This was one of Hollywood’s hottest rising stars, Isobel Manella.
“Holy shit!” She couldn’t think of what else to say. She’d never met a famous person before in her life. Now she knew exactly how Anton had felt the first time he’d looked at her by the bar. Though for the life of her she still couldn’t imagine why.
Chapter 3
“Isn’t this all just so interesting?” Isobel’s smooth Latina accent penetrated Anton’s misery.
He’d liked Katie and his bizarre secret was spooking her off. He didn’t think that Isobel would stop Katie’s abrupt exit for long.
He should know better than to have hopes. How many friends had he lost because of it? Some thought he was crazy or a liar. But if he hid his remote-viewing ability he’d always slip up somehow. Then they’d think that he really was lying about everything all along, and they’d be gone. The few times he’d tried the truth, he’d been called a “fucking freak.” As a general guideline, he tried to avoid getting that response.
His only friends, the only ones he could be himself around, were on the Shadow Force: Psi team. They too had powers they each had to find a way to deal with in the real world.
“It is so very difficult to humble our Michelle,” Isobel continued. For a moment, Anton felt some hope.
It also gave him a chance to sneer at his dram-sister, which was always cheering.
“And to place Anton into such frustration without him just barreling through it in his normal style.”
Anton sighed when Michelle sneered back at him. He tried to pretend she wasn’t right, even though he knew there was no hiding the truth from Isobel. Her gift of empathy was never wrong.
Isobel studied Katie for a long moment, not that she’d ever reveal what she was sensing.
Katie still appeared to be gobsmacked, which almost made Anton smile. Isobel did that to a lot of people. Had done it to him, way back when.
He’d met her when she and Michelle had been college roommates. Even then it was easy to see that she was going to be somebody. He’d never hit on her. Partly because Michelle would have killed him for hitting on her roommate. But also because even back then, Isobel Manella had her shit so together that she was a little scary. He still didn’t know quite what to think of her all these years later.
“Don’t worry,” she addressed Katie. “I can easily see your mix of anger and curiosity without looking any deeper.”
Katie didn’t say a word.
“A quiet one. Where did Anton find you? He doesn’t usually go for the quiet ones.”
She was right. Because the quiet ones noticed things; never as fast as Katie just ha
d, but they did. The boisterous and playful women would brush off his occasional off-kilter view of things for far longer. With them he could at least pretend he was having a meaningful relationship…for a while.
Katie glanced at him uncertainly.
“I’m not going for her…for you,” he amended when her eyes narrowed. Not that he’d mind. “I just liked watching you watch the badgers.”
“You were there.” She didn’t make it a question.
Anton sighed, then nodded. He’d really put his foot in it this time.
“I somehow knew you were there. But I didn’t see you.”
“That’s weird.” Anton stared down at his beer, not that it helped him think any deeper. Even looking down at the black surface, he couldn’t resist a quick glance up with his other vision to watch her honey-amber eyes inspect him with deep suspicion. No one ever knew when his vision was lookabout someplace.
“Seriously weird,” Katie agreed, definitely still talking about not seeing him rather then sensing him at all. “Care to explain?”
Letting go of his vision, Anton looked over to Isobel for guidance.
She tipped her head slightly in thought, then gently pushed Katie back into her chair before joining them.
Isobel sent Michelle off to fetch her a beer. “Yes, Anton. Why were you watching…”
“Katie,” Katie provided when Isobel did one of her single-raised eyebrow things.
“…Katie watch badgers?” She turned back to Katie. “Why were you watching badgers?”
“It’s what I do.”
“Watch badgers?” Anton tried to imagine that. “Sounds…fine.” He managed to both be insulting and sound like an idiot. Two-for-one the wrong way. Shit!
“I’m a professional wildlife tracker. Now explain how I missed you being there despite Tom Brown Jr.’s training.”
Anton noticed Ricardo was suddenly sitting up and paying attention. Isobel hadn’t reacted. But Ricardo was a former Delta Force operator and something she’d said had just struck his best friend as very interesting.
“It’s because I wasn’t physically there,” Anton finally admitted when Isobel nodded for him to explain.
At the Merest Glance: a military paranormal romance (Shadowforce: Psi Book 3) Page 2