Eye of the Storm

by Monette Michaels

  Ren saw red. "Fuck it. Keely!" He started toward the bedroom and had to dodge another airborne body—the tall man she'd previously knifed.

  Keely followed this one out. Her fiery golden hair flew all over the place and her pale face had flags of red on her cheekbones from exertion—or from her fever. He didn't know and didn't care; she needed to rest, not fight hired killers.

  The tall man lay on the carpet in a bloody heap. She kicked him in the ribs. "Call me a little bitch, will you?"

  Ren hadn't thought she really understood what poco gata meant in Spanish, but she obviously had. The man she'd stuck with a steak knife was probably wishing he'd forgotten all about her. Ren scanned her body, looking for obvious injuries. "Fuck it, Keely. You're practically naked!" She was in one of his t-shirts—and nothing else. Every man knew she had no underwear. The thugs had probably gotten an up-close-and-personal look as she tossed them around. That image pushed him from mad to furious.

  "I'm wearing your shirt. And don't think I didn't hear all those f-bombs flying. Mama, he owes you—make sure you collect."

  Keely sure as hell didn't shrink away from his wrath. Ren managed to avoid smiling at the feisty warrior sprite and pulled a throw off the couch to wrap around her like a sarong. As he enfolded her body in the fluffy material, he spotted new marks on her arms and face that promised to bruise later.

  He snarled. "Goddamnmotherfuckingsonofabitch!" His breaths came fast and hard while his hands clenched and unclenched at his side. Every primordial instinct pushed him to avenge the harm to his woman.

  "Ren, no. I'm fine." Her voice was low, soothing, a tone aimed at taming a raging beast. She held his arm as if she could prevent him from moving.

  He stroked a finger lightly over the red mark on her face. "No, baby. He terrorized you. He fucking touched you, hurt you. I can't let that go." He gently shoved her toward her mother. "Go to your Mama, baby, and hide your eyes. Molly, you might want to hide your eyes also." Turning, he found his brother backing him up. "Get Keely an ice pack, Trey. I have to kill someone."

  "No." Keely stepped into his body, blocking him from the downed thug, and buried her face in the middle of his chest, her small hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. "No. He has broken ribs. I heard his jaw snap. I twisted his testicles and penis when he was on top of me."

  "He. Was. On. Top. Of. You." Ren was proud of himself. He didn't roar. He glanced at the piece-of-shit-excuse for a man who lay on the floor, bleeding and moaning as if he were going to die. He turned his narrowed eyes back to his little Amazon. "Explain." He rubbed her back to still her shaking.

  Keely sighed and took one of her hands off him and shoved it through her thick, messy curls. "Just stop it with the snarl in your voice. While impressive, it's pissing me off. I handled the situation. It's done."

  "Keely." His voice was calm, but he knew she had to feel his trembling as he struggled not to move away and kill the bastards where they lay. "Tell me how you handled it." Then he'd decide just how much more hurt he needed to impart to the assholes.

  "They wanted to take me out the balcony and then to Trujo. I said no. They said yes. So, I took out the little one first and then he—" she pointed to the other one, "knocked me on the floor and tried to put a carotid hold on me, so I twisted his dick and balls. He hit me in the face…"

  Ren swiped a gentle finger over the mark on her cheek and took the ice pack Trey handed him and put it on the rapidly swelling bruise.

  She gasped and winced, then continued her matter-of-fact narrative. “…but he, like all men, had to check to see if he still had all his working parts. That was his mistake." Her mother choked back a laugh behind them. "I had him after that. Daddy and the boys taught me how to fight from every position known to man. The a-hole—sorry, Mama—didn't have a chance once I got leverage. I am very good at physics."

  She leaned her forehead on his chest. He held her close with one arm, the other hand still holding the ice pack to her face. She continued with a sigh. "I handled it. And while I truly appreciate that you want to handle them some more, it is unnecessary. Now, I'm really tired. I need an ibuprofen or something—and my Pepsi—lots of ice. And I need to be held, first by my Mama, then by you, especially you. Daddy can take care of cleanup."

  He sensed every Walsh going on alert at her words. Fuck 'em. She wanted to be held by him, she got him. The fact he'd have held her anyway without her asking was beside the point.

  She sniffed into his shirt. He felt wetness. "Okay, baby. God, please don't cry. You're killing me."

  "I don't cry—hardly ever. Ask my family. It's just that I don't feel good." She sniffed. "Crying is a wussy-assed girly thing to do. And I am not a wuss. I'm a frick-fracking Walsh warrior."

  Handing Trey the ice pack, he swung Keely into his arms, then reached for the cold pack again. "Hold this on your face, baby. Your Mama and I will put you to bed, get you some meds and the Pepsi, and then after I talk some more with your Dad, I'll come in and lie next to you until you go to sleep. Okay?"

  She sniffed and took over holding the ice pack against her face. "I knew you'd see my point of view."

  "You won't always get your way, Keely." He whispered against her hair.

  She muttered something under her breath. He had to smile—it sounded like "Wanna bet?"

  Chapter 7

  One week later, Sanctuary, Idaho

  "TWEETIE, hand me that last transmitter stake."

  Ignoring the increasingly blustery wind and the feathery flakes of snow whipping around her with more intensity, Keely reached back a Thinsulate-gloved hand. Her other hand, encased in an extra layer of down-filled glove, gripped the rope holding her in mid-air, two thousand feet above the canyon floor. Her brother hung alongside her, carrying the once-heavy pack and spotting her.

  "Here ya go, Imp." The stake was slapped into her hand. "Bracing you."

  As he had for the last fifty stakes, his body snugged against her back as she practically sat on his strong thighs. She hammered the stake into the hole she'd created seconds earlier. She sprang the hooks that dug the stake further into the rock wall. Satisfied it was anchored well, she plugged in the electrical conduit they had strung from stake to stake. The green light went on, showing it had power. The power source was a solar-powered battery array secreted on a six-thousand foot crag and cleverly built into the rocks.

  "Signal?" She grabbed the rope with both hands, after putting on the other down-filled glove over the thinner one. Air temperature was a balmy twenty-two degrees with a wind chill of minus twenty. Frostbite was a given in these conditions, and both she and Tweeter had multiple layers to protect against it. She swiveled to face her brother.

  Tweeter scanned the computer tablet protected in its own down-filled sleeve. "Yeah, it's working. They all are." He beamed at her. "Damn, I can't wait to see the holographic image on the table we built in the Bat Cave."

  The Bat Cave was the underground operations center located in the sub-basement of the Lodge, SSI's main building and a gathering place for Sanctuary residents. Sanctuary itself was a hundred square miles of some of the roughest terrain in Idaho. Two years ago, Sanctuary had received town status from Idaho County.

  Tweeter already had a fairly impressive security set up, but jumped at the chance to make it even better. When she'd first mentioned a year or so ago the potential of a holographic imaging table to display a complete picture of the whole of Sanctuary, ground-to-sky, he'd almost swooned and begun to collect equipment for the day they could work on it together.

  The day had arrived. After their arrival from Argentina—and after her mama, who'd ridden along, had gone back to Georgia—she and Tweetie planted sensors and strung cable and electrical conduit during the blustery days and built the array in the Bat Cave at night. Finally, they were done.

  She lifted her face to the gray wintry sky. She loved the snow and cold, but a blizzard was coming and they'd needed to get the system operative before it hit. Thus,
the concerted push today. There was already seven feet of snow on the ground and four more predicted with high winds to complicate matters over the next twenty-four hours. And it was only late October. She smiled at her brother. "We'll work on fine-tuning the table's reception and testing the signals. The bad weather should be a trial of how well the system works. Bad guys don't wait for nice weather to attack."

  Tweetie patted her cheeks. She barely felt his hands. He pulled her wool balaclava over her face, covering the exposed skin. The hood was one of the men's and far too big for her, so it kept slipping. She really needed to get her own winter clothing if she were going to stay at Sanctuary—and it looked like she would be. Her brother told her Ren intended to offer her a job. She intended to take it. She was highly attracted to the head of SSI—and knew he felt the same about her.

  "Looks like we should head back. Wouldn't want Quinn to send out a search party." Tweetie spoke over the Motorola headset so they could keep their faces covered and wouldn't freeze their lips to their teeth trying to talk in the sub-zero temps.

  "He'd do it, too," she replied. Quinn had already sent search parties out twice since she'd been here. The older man was in charge of employee safety when neither Ren nor Trey were here to keep an eye on things.

  She had to admit that she and her brother tended to get caught up in what they were doing and forgot about time—and checking in regularly. Ren had called once while they were out and had reamed Quinn a new asshole, or at least, that's what the salty old Marine had told them.

  She shivered at the thought of Ren's increasingly possessive and protective attitude. He'd spoken to her every evening. He wouldn't tell her what was happening in South America, but cross-examined her on her return trip, her mama's thoughts on his home, and her living in it, her sleep patterns, what she'd eaten, and how she was adjusting to Idaho life. Most women would find him too controlling, but she was used to that kind of behavior, having lived with it all her life. Using her mama's fine example of how to handle dominant, know-it-all males, she'd never found it a problem to do what she wanted, when she wanted, even under the eyes of six Walsh males and all their friends. It was all a matter of knowing when to give in and when to assert one's self.

  "Earth to Imp. Need help climbing?" Her brother reached for her pulley system. They might be two thousand feet above the canyon floor, but they still had one thousand feet to climb to the top where their two-seater snowmobile was parked.

  "Yeah," she held out a shaky hand, "all of a sudden, I'm beat." The remnants of her injuries and the subsequent illness from her abduction still managed to bother her when she was fatigued. Of course, she hadn't breathed a word of her continuing weakness to Ren on the nightly calls. She wasn't stupid; he'd have had Quinn tying her to the bed and had Quinn's wife Lacey, a nurse, caring for her.

  She couldn't afford to rest and had purposely pushed her physical limits to get this wiring done. The weather and the terrain hadn't helped. She and Tweeter had been banged about yesterday and today in gusty winds as they climbed and installed cable all over Sanctuary's borders. Added to the physical demands of the job, she was still acclimating to the altitude. It was amazing she wasn't flat on her back with exhaustion and acute mountain sickness. But whatever she suffered, it would all be worth it. Her gut and itchy neck told her the system would get a trial by fire—and soon.

  "Shit, Keely," her brother's voice held concern, "why didn't you say something? Ren will have my ass if he comes home and you're down sick again."

  "Just tell him I forced you."

  Tweetie snorted. "Yeah, like that makes a difference. He'll still blame me." He reached for her lines and turned her so he could see her eyes through her yellow-tinged snow goggles. He frowned. "When we get back, skip the bar and grill tonight. Get Scotty to pack you some food to carry back to Ren's place so you can turn in early. Scotty can mix his own damn Mojitos and crap."

  "Nope, the bar is fun—and a way for me to unwind." She grinned behind the hood protecting her from the biting wind. "Quinn challenged me to a game of darts. He can't believe I keep beating him. Lacey loves that I can put his Marine ass in place. Plus, if I win tonight's match, he's promised to teach me how to play poker."

  "Quinn cheats, sis. I can teach you how to play poker," Tweetie said in his big-brother-knows-best tone as he pulled them both up the face of the rock wall with ease.

  "Once I have the fundamentals down, you know he won't have a chance. It's mostly probabilities." Thinking of the bar, a frisson of unease skittered down her spine. Something had happened at breakfast. Something she'd pushed to the back of her mind in her need to get the wiring down and the security system operational. "What would Ren do if one of his men was, um, bothering me?"

  "Who's bothering you? And when, for chrissakes? I'm with you all the fucking time."

  "Stop it with the f-word, Stuart Allen Walsh. I'll collect for Mama in absentia." She braced a hand to assist over a jagged area so the ropes would not fray. "Besides, it happened at breakfast when you're still sacked out, slug-a-bed."

  "You get up too damn early. Now fess up—who is the fucker?" His snarl was almost the equal of Ren's and dared her to chastise him for his use of the f-word.

  She wasn't really afraid of the man bothering her, more like wary and suspicious at his all-of-a-sudden lechery. Oh, heck, who was she kidding? She was more than wary and suspicious. The man's actions reminded her of the four who'd kidnapped her in Boston. Two of those were dead and she’d created computer sketches for the two still at large and had a program running to check them against law enforcement data bases. This guy wasn't one of them. He’d been at Sanctuary while she was held prisoner in Boston, but he was of the same breed of low-life predators—a jackal. She could handle most assholes, and had proven so time after time. But she wasn't at her best now and this particular guy was huge—and had more training than she. She wasn't stupid enough to think she could take him mano a mano and win; the bastard had the habit of sneaking up on her. Only Scotty's presence had stopped the man from touching her, taking what he said he wanted.

  Why were some men such animals?

  Tweetie climbed up over the edge of the cliff and hauled her up the last several feet. When she was on terra firma, he took her shoulders and shook gently. "Stop avoiding my question? Who was the asshole?"

  Anger and worry were in his eyes. God, he was so sweet. He was the best big brother and had sacrificed so much of his life for her. She hated being a burden once more. Maybe she was overreacting to the man. God knew, she was tired and still recuperating. Plus, she had another reason to keep an eye on the guy and didn't want Tweetie or Quinn kicking him off Sanctuary just yet. She should have kept her mouth shut.

  She shrugged. "It's not important. I'll just make sure other people are around. He hasn't done anything, just talked about it."

  "He who?" Tweetie tipped her chin up with a heavily gloved hand. "We're not leaving here until you tell me. They'll find us next spring, frozen to this very spot if you don't cough it up soon."

  The wind was swirling the snow around them, causing periods of mini-whiteouts. Visibility was maybe ten feet and getting worse. The trip back to the Lodge would be extremely tricky, but doable. Even without a final testing, she knew they could follow the new system's transmitter signals all the way back. The system was fully functional, but she wasn't ready to reveal it to the other SSI personnel until Ren gave her the okay. Only she, her brother and Ren knew what they'd been doing for the last week.

  She lowered her lashes; the snow was stinging what part of her face was exposed by the loose balaclava. Her goggles were fogging; she flipped on the battery-powered heater built into the high-tech eyewear to keep the lenses clear.

  Tweetie all but growled. "I'm waiting, sis."

  Okay, so they really needed to leave. They couldn't get lost, but they could get caught out here. There was always the chance of hitting a hidden rock or driving off the edge of a cliff in the limited visibility.
Some of the trails were very narrow and hugged the edge of cliff walls.

  She sighed. Stalling could get them killed. She'd have to tell him her suspicions. Her brother didn't make threats idly. "It's one of the new SSI recruits here for training." She peeked at his eyes; they were filled with fiery, blue sparks. "He's hitting on me. I've told him no."

  He hissed a nasty word. "The bastard should know to stay away from you. You're living in Ren's house—that means you're off limits." He shoved her toward the snowmobile; its protective tarp was covered with a foot of snow at least.

  "Am I off limits?" Keely was intrigued. She knew Ren was overprotective and had decided she was under his care—the last week's worth of nightly phone calls had proven that point—but other than that, he hadn't said word one about his future intentions toward her. Heck, her brother had been the one to tell her she had a job at SSI if she wanted it.

  Now, she wasn't stupid, just young. Ren's constant hard-on when he was around her and other body language indicated he wanted her—a lot. Her mama had noticed the attraction and lectured her in very explicit terms about safe sex and intimate relations with large men. Keely still blushed whenever she thought about her mama's detailed talk and the personal experience that necessarily preceded all that knowledge.

  Personally, she had no issues with Ren's lust. She'd been in lust with him since she'd first met him. She admired and respected his alpha qualities and had been half-way in love with him from reading his files. She knew she could handle him as easily as her mama had handled her equally macho dad. And that relationship had been loving and hot for over thirty-five years and six children.

  "Keely, are you listening to me? Ren will go apeshit over any man who even sneezes in your direction." He turned her into his body, sheltering her from the brunt of the vicious wind gusts.

  "This particular jerk mentioned a lack of a ring. He doesn't think I'm off limits."

  "Ren needs to get his fucking ass home." Her brother snagged her arm and helped her fight the headwind that seemed to want to blow them back over the edge of the cliff they'd just scaled. Together they made their way slowly to their transportation.