Romancing the Guardians Series: Part One (Romancing the Guardians Box Set Book 1)

by Lyn Horner

  Satisfied, he let go at last, crying out with the release he’d been holding back. She welcomed his weight as he slowly collapsed in her arms, knowing he was the only man for her.

  *

  When Conn was able to move, he rolled to his side and cuddled Lara close. She purred contentedly in his ear, and he smiled, more at peace than he’d been in a very long time. Moments later, drifting toward sleep, he thought she mumbled, “I love you, Conn,” but his foggy brain couldn’t be sure.

  He awoke suddenly with the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He recognized the feeling from his years in the Army; it warned him they were being watched. He’d gotten the same uncomfortable feeling more than once over the past several days when puttering around outside the lodge, but he hadn’t mentioned it to Lara, not wanting to frighten her.

  Slipping his arm out from under her, causing her to stir in her sleep, he jackknifed into a sitting position and glanced rapidly around. The pontoon still floated lazily in the cove. He carefully scanned the surrounding trees but saw no sign of anyone or anything. Nevertheless, he trusted his body’s warning. Gripping Lara’s shoulder, he shook her gently.

  “Wha?” she muttered, blinking against the afternoon sunlight.

  “Wake up, honey. We need to go.”

  She came fully awake and sat up, pushing hair from her eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked in alarm.

  “Why do you ask? Are you picking up danger nearby?”

  She frowned, looked around then studied him. “No, but you seem worried.”

  Again not wanting to frighten her, he shrugged as he pulled on his jeans. “It’s just getting late and it’ll take a while to find our way back. You should get dressed.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” Quickly donning her clothes and foot gear, she folded up the blanket and dug a brush from the tote she’d insisted on bringing along – because it contained the scroll she didn’t dare leave at the lodge, Conn realized.

  By then, he had started the boat motor. Guiding the pontoon toward the neck of the cove, he glanced casually from side to side, watching for movement among the trees, trying to hide his concern from Lara. He failed.

  “Conn, I know something’s wrong,” she said, running the brush through her long black hair. “What are you looking for?”

  He sighed in resignation. “I woke up with a feeling we were being watched.”

  She caught her breath. “Did you see someone?”

  “No, but I learned a long time ago to listen to my instincts.”

  Coming to stand beside him as he negotiated the narrow choke point leading to the wider channel that would carry them back to the lodge, she glanced from one wooded, swampy shore to the other. “Do you think it was him, the creature I saw the other night?”

  “I don’t know, but the hair on my neck isn’t standing up now, so whoever or whatever it was, they’re gone.” He slipped an arm around her, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I reckon he lost interest when we stopped giving him a show.”

  “Oh God! You think he – it – watched us while we … ?” Leaving her question hanging, she shivered violently.

  “I doubt it. My hair wasn’t standing on end then, either.” He chuckled. “Of course, I was a might preoccupied.”

  “Not funny!” Scowling, she punched his belly not nearly hard enough to hurt. “The thought of him seeing us like that makes me sick.”

  Sobering, he squeezed her waist. “I know, darlin’. I don’t like the idea any more than you do, but it’s over now. When we get back to the lodge, I’ll lock up tight. If your uninvited visitor happens by, he won’t find you alone again. I doubt he’d try to break in with me around.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Sounding doubtful, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s strange that you felt we were being watched but I never picked up any threat. I always know when there’s danger approaching.”

  “Well, maybe he, whoever the watcher is, didn’t mean any harm. Could be he was just curious to see what us crazy folks were up to.”

  She snorted at that. “Curiosity killed the cat. I’d rather not be the cat. Or the cat’s prey.”

  *

  They saw no sign of the creature or anyone else that night or the next, much to Lara’s relief. On the morning of the second day since she’d spoken to Dev, she punched in his number with shaking fingers, praying he’d broken Uncle Malcolm’s code. He answered on the first ring.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to call,” he said without even a hello. “I broke the code. I’ve got the names and addresses for you.”

  Lara’s voice failed her for a second as she took in his announcement. Then she cried, “Thank the Goddess! Conn, he’s broken the code!”

  “What did you say?” Dev said in her ear.

  “What? Oh, uh, it was just a slip of the tongue. I meant thank God, of course.”

  After a brief silence, he said, “Of course,” in a doubting tone. “So, I figure you don’t want me to pass on the info by phone, even a burner phone.”

  “No! I mean that wouldn’t be wise.”

  “Okay, I plan to drive into San Antonio to see my folks, since I’m close by. I’ll spend the night there then head back to my place in Houston tomorrow. How soon can you get there?”

  Conn had come to stand beside Lara and she’d held the phone out for both of them to hear. He took it from her and replied, “Dev, it’s Conn. We’ll make it by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Fine. See you then,” Lara heard Dev snap. Then he disconnected.

  Frowning, Conn handed the phone back to her. “He’ll be glad to see you at least.”

  “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll come around,” she said, caressing his cheek.

  “Sure.” His lips twitched in a sad smile. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, which she had yet to braid. “I love you, Lara Spenser,” he whispered.

  She caught her breath, joy making her hoarse. “I love you too, Connor O’Shea.”

  He squeezed her tight and kissed her, but after a moment, she pushed lightly at his shoulders. Loosening his hold, he cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “Something eating you?”

  She nervously licked her lips. “I hope you won’t be angry at me for not telling you sooner, but Spenser isn’t my real name.” Holding her breath, she watched a grin spread across his beloved features.

  “I figured that out back in Ireland, honey. So, am I allowed to know your real name?”

  She released her breath and smiled lovingly. “You are. My name is Flewellen, Lara Flewellen. It’s Welsh. My great-grandmother married a Welshman, but I consider myself Irish.”

  “Welsh, Irish, I don’t care as long as you’re mine, lady.” With a throaty growl, Conn’s mouth took possession of hers, stamping her as his woman, a fact she wholeheartedly approved as he carried her upstairs and back to bed.

  A long while later, Lara lay stretched contentedly atop him. Nibbling his lower lip, she murmured, “Tonight’s our last night here. Let’s make it special.”

  “What do you have in mind?” he asked, threading his fingers through her long hair and spreading it about them.

  “I make a mean homemade spaghetti sauce with meatballs.”

  “Mmm, sounds good.” He grinned. “You plan on fattening me up, do you?”

  “No! I like you just the way you are.” She tickled his lean ribs, making him squirm and laugh. “Seriously though, if you like, we could take a trip to that store you went to and pick up what I need. I saw a decent Chianti in the wine fridge that would go good with spaghetti.”

  “Okay, but you’ll have to move if we’re going to the store.” He patted her rump and got her back for tickling him.

  A while later Lara pushed a cart down the aisles of Morrison’s Country Store. The quaint wood-frame building was crammed with products ranging from fishing gear to baby food. It took a while, but she eventually rounded up everything she needed. However, her leg was aching by then, and the storekeeper, a middle-aged m
an with a ruddy face and graying hair, took his sweet time ringing up their purchases, engaging Conn in a conversation about this year’s prospects for a football team Lara didn’t care about.

  Needing to sit, she touched Conn’s arm and pointed to the door, indicating she would wait outside, where she’d noticed a pair of lawn chairs on the shaded porch.

  He nodded. “I’ll be out in a couple minutes, honey.”

  She smiled and limped out the door. Plopping into the nearest chair, she leaned her cane against the wall of the building near her right shoulder. With a sigh, she bent and gently massaged her leg, as much of it as she could get to with the plastic AFO encasing part of her calf. She was thinking how glad she’d be to not need the brace in a few more weeks when the sound of an approaching vehicle caught her attention.

  Straightening, she watched a dirty red pickup skid to a stop near Conn’s Silverado, a few yards from where she sat. It set off her built-in alarm. Was it the same truck that almost ran them off the road the day they’d gone for a motorcycle ride? Raucous male laughter rang out from the four male occupants, confirming her suspicion. She stiffened as they piled out of the truck.

  They ogled her and whispered among themselves. Three of them held longneck beers. The driver, a tall, rangy roughneck with a full beard, dressed in scruffy jeans and a sweat-stained white t-shirt, tipped his head back and chugged down the rest of his brew. Then he belched and lobbed the bottle across the dirt parking lot. It struck one of the rocks bordering the area.

  Lara jumped at the sound of shattering glass. The man and his friends laughed as if he’d done something hilarious. Then they started toward her. She grabbed her cane and stood, hoping to make it inside, to the safety of Conn’s presence, but the bottle thrower was too quick. He bounded up the porch steps and blocked her path. She inhaled sharply, assailed by the odor of beer and rank male sweat.

  “See, boys, I told yuh she’s a gimp.” His remark drew snickers from his pals and made Lara ball the fist that wasn’t gripping her cane. “Goin’ somewhere, Gimpy?” he taunted, taking a step closer.

  “Yes, I’m going inside, where my man is. Get out of my way.”

  “Yeah? How come he left you sittin’ here all by your lonesome?” He reached out to grab her arm, but she slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  He growled and would have lunged at her, she knew, if the door hadn’t slammed back on its hinges. Conn stepped out, looking mad enough to kill.

  “Get away from her,” he ordered, voice snapping like a whip.

  The thug whirled to face him. “Says who?”

  “Lara, step back,” Conn said quietly. He waited while she obeyed then smiled at her would-be assailant. “Says me, friend.” With that, his arm shot out, landing a teeth-rattling punch to the oaf’s jaw, knocking him off his feet. He landed with a loud thump near Lara’s feet and lay there groaning.

  She edged past him and clasped the hand Conn extended to her. He drew her to his side, his arm circling her waist as he faced the other three ruffians, who stood gaping at their fallen crony.

  “I have a gun in my boot. Unless you want to taste a bullet, move aside.” His tone sounded as hard as steel.

  One of the three grumbled something, but the others told him to shut up. They shuffled back, well out of the way, as Conn led Lara to his truck. When he helped her into the passenger’s seat, she looked up and saw the storekeeper hurrying their way with two bags of groceries.

  “Thanks, Mr. Morrison,” Conn said, relieving him of the paper bags.

  “No thanks needed. Sorry about the trouble.” The older man glanced at the man Conn had punched, who was just now sitting up, rubbing his jaw and glaring at them.

  “Will you be okay here alone with them?”

  “Oh, sure. All of ’em work at my brother’s sawmill. If they want to keep their jobs they’ll behave.”

  Conn nodded, shook hands with the storekeeper, stowed the groceries in back and climbed into the driver’s seat. Lara looked out her side window as he exited the parking lot, seeing the four rowdies gathered on the porch, watching them leave. They made her skin crawl.

  The incident left her shaken up. She prepared the dinner she’d promised, but even two glasses of Chianti couldn’t restore her lighthearted mood. Conn praised her cooking to the sky and put on a happy face, although she detected a current of tension behind it.

  Sunset was approaching and they were clearing up after the meal when Lara got one of her feelings. She dropped the plate she’d been about to load in the dishwasher, going ramrod stiff as it smashed to smithereens on the tile floor. Conn reached her in a split second

  “What is it? Do you feel something?” he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

  “Y-yes, danger. Near, very near!”

  “Stay here. I’ll check the front.” Leaving her frozen in terror, he dashed into the hall. After minutes that seemed like hours, he returned. “It’s those bastards from the store. They must have seen where we pulled out of when we crossed paths with them that day on the road. I didn’t see their truck, but I spotted them moving in through the trees.”

  “What are we going to do?” Lara asked, voice shaking.

  “I want you to go upstairs and lock yourself in our room.”

  “No! I won’t leave you to face them alone. There are too many.”

  He gripped her arms and gave her a light shake. “I don’t have time to argue, Lara. You’re not strong enough to help me, and I can’t fight them if I’m worrying about you. Come on!”

  He was right; she’d only be in his way. It made her throat tighten and her eyes burn to admit that, but she didn’t resist when he led her hurriedly toward the great room. Her heart jumped into her throat as they crossed that huge room, in front of the windows, exposed to those devils outside.

  Conn stopped at the foot of the stairs and hauled her against him. “I love you,” he said in a ragged voice and kissed her soundly. Then he spun her around and placed her hand on the banister. “Now go! And don’t open the door until I tell you to.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, eyes clouded by unshed tears. “I love you,” she choked out and started up the stairs.

  Conn watched until she reached the balcony. Pausing, she gave him a sad little wave, biting her bottom lip, and turned down the hall toward her room, the room they now shared. Determined to keep her safe, he strode back to the kitchen, turned off the lights and headed into the adjacent utility room, where a back door and the breaker box were located. He had no time to rig traps, but night was rapidly falling and the lodge would soon be pitch black. Figuring darkness would serve him well just as it had in the cottage back in Ireland, Conn threw the main circuit breaker.

  It occurred to him that he’d just shut down the outdoor lights and electronic alarm system, but it hardly mattered. He already knew the place was about to be invaded, thanks to Lara’s uncanny warning. Pulling up his pant leg, he drew his Glock from the ankle holster he’d strapped on before driving her to the store.

  Damn! Why had he let her talk him into going there? She wouldn’t be in danger now if he’d listened to his better judgment and kept her safely tucked away here at the lodge; if he hadn’t been entranced by her coaxing lips and luscious body sprawled over him; if he’d just said no. Ha! What man could say no to a woman under those conditions?

  He crossed the kitchen, keeping an eye on the back windows. He didn’t spot any movement outside, but it was hard to tell for sure in the waning light. Edging into the dark hallway, he flattened himself against one wall and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard several pairs of feet mount the front porch steps. One of the punks tried the double doors. Finding them locked, he tried to jimmy the lock, with a knife, Conn guessed from the sound of metal scraping metal. The idiot obviously didn’t know what he was doing.

  The next thing he heard was glass breaking and shards striking the wood floor. The bastards had smashed one of the door windows. An arm snaked through the opening,
the lock clicked and the doors flew open, admitting the intruders.

  “Hold it right there,” Conn shouted, crouching and aiming his gun at them.

  “Shit!” one blurted, ducking back outside.

  “Take cover!” another ordered in a voice Conn recognized. It belonged to the bearded bully he’d tangled with at the store. He and his remaining two men ran into the great room. “I’ve got a gun, mister!” he yelled, diving behind a nearby loveseat. “You still claim to have one, or were you blowin’ smoke up my boys’ asses at old man Morrison’s?”

  Conn backed into the kitchen, keeping low. “Why don’t you come and find out?”

  “I just might do that,” the thug said with a dirty laugh.

  Detecting movement, Conn risked a glance into the hall. A shadow, blacker than the night, crept toward him. Aiming for a leg, he fired off a round. The man screamed and fell, dropping a heavy object on the floor. Catching the glint of moonlight on metal, Conn guessed it was a knife.

  “He shot me, Cully!” he cried, whimpering in pain.

  “Ah, hell!” the leader called out.

  “You sent him to do your dirty work, didn’t you,” Conn taunted, pulling back to his hiding place. “Guess you’re too yellow to do it yourself.”

  An enraged snarl warned him. Sticking his head out, he raised his gun and fired as the bearded villain charged out of the great room, firing wildly. Unfortunately, his own bullet also went wild. He was about to fire again when something struck his head from behind. It exploded with blinding pain and he toppled into darkness.

  *

  Lara stood with her ear pressed to the locked bedroom door, sick with fear for Conn as she listened to the battle going on downstairs. A burst of gunfire nearly drove her to her knees. When it then went quiet, she clutched the pendant at her throat and prayed fervently that Conn still lived. Desperate to know what was happening, she wanted to unlock the door and peek out, but remembering his order not to open it until he told her to, she resisted the urge.