by Lyn Horner
“How about if I pay the good doctor a visit for you?”
Lara gaped at him. “But you don’t know what … what this is all about.”
“I know you’re guarding something valuable. I know this Peterson guy and the other five guardians are supposed to help you, right?”
Inhaling sharply, she regretted her previous slip of the tongue. “Something like that,” she said cautiously.
“Okay, so I’ll tell the doc about your uncle dying. What was his name, by the way?”
“His name was Malcolm Flewellyn, but you contacting the doctor won’t work. He won’t believe you no matter what you say. He’ll think you’re one of the Hellhounds. Before he was killed, Uncle Malcolm warned all of the other Guardians not to trust any strangers.”
Frowning, Dev bent his head and scratched his bristly chin. It sounded like fingernails on sandpaper. After a moment’s thought, he looked up. “Is there something only you and the others know about your uncle that might prove I come from you? Or maybe some thing you have that I could show the doc?”
Lara went blank for a second. Then she grasped the silver pendent suspended on a fine chain around her neck. “There’s this,” she said, displaying the small circlet, stamped with a Celtic knot pattern. “Uncle Malcolm gave it to me when he named me his successor in front of the others at their annual gathering.”
“You’ve already met the six?” Conn asked in surprise. “I didn’t think you knew them.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t really met them. They wore hooded robes. I wasn’t to see their faces until I finished my training and Uncle Malcolm entrusted me with the … the leader’s duties.” When he would have named her High Guardian before the Comhairle and presented her with the Ruling Scroll.
“You weren’t kidding when you called it a secret society,” Dev remarked dryly. “But the doc will recognize that little charm, right?”
“He should, yes.”
“Good. So all I have to do is show him that, tell him about your uncle and that you need to get in touch with him.”
“I suppose, but –”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Conn asserted. “While Dev contacts Peterson, we’ll hightail it to Arizona, find Josie and a place where you’ll be safe. We can pick up several burner phones and check in with Dev every few days just like before at the lake.”
“But I’m not sure –”
This time Dev cut her off, telling her not to worry, he’d handle the job. Feeling like she was being bulldozed by both of them, Lara continued to argue, but in the end she couldn’t refute their logic. And she had to admit, if only to herself, that going to Galveston would be dangerous. Besides, she was simply too tired to go on fighting them.
*
They were on the road again driving into the setting sun. The afternoon had cooled into a pleasant evening, prompting Conn to open the truck’s windows. Buckled in next to him, Lara enjoyed the wind blowing in her face as she watched the city lights thin out and disappear behind them. Looking at Conn, she admired his handsome, rugged profile and hard-muscled form. With one hand on the steering wheel and the elbow of his other arm resting on the lip of his open window he was a picture of masculine strength and confidence.
“I’m sorry for what I said about being your employer. It was terrible of me.”
He glanced at her, silver eyes ghostly in the dim light. “You were angry. I said some things too.”
“Yes, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. You were only trying to protect me and you were right, you are so much more to me than an employee. You’re the keeper of my heart, Conn.”
He switched hands on the steering wheel, reached out and caught hers. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed her fingers tenderly. “The same goes for me, sweetheart. I’ll never let anyone take you from me.”
“What of your job?” She hated to bring up the subject but knew she must. “Your vacation time will soon run out, won’t it? You’ll need to go where the company sends you.”
He squeezed her hand. “No, I won’t. When I called my boss from the lodge, I told him I was taking an extended leave of absence.”
“And he agreed?” She stared at him in disbelief.
Conn grinned. “He wasn’t too happy about it, but when I said it was either that or he could accept my resignation, he gave me the okay.”
“Oh.” Immensely relieved to know he wouldn’t be forced to leave her, she raised another worry. “Conn, how will we live? I’m low on funds. I could contact my uncle’s attorney and have him wire more to wherever we’re going but –”
“No, can’t do that. The Hounds might be watching him. It’s not hard to bug a phone or hack an email account if you know what you’re doing, and I’d bet the guy who leads the Hounds has someone who does.”
“Then I repeat how will we live?”
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got money stashed away. Dev can get it to me, but we won’t need much where we’re going.”
“Mmm. And how do you know the Hounds won’t bug Dev’s phone too?”
“I expect them to, but Dev’s put a block on his line by now. Depend on it.”
Lara smiled ruefully. “The two of you are way ahead of me. You make me feel terribly inadequate.”
“Are you kidding? You’re beautiful, smart and braver than a dozen men put together.” He slipped his hand under her braid and gently massaged her neck. “We’re in this together, you and me. With Dev’s help, we’ll bring all the Guardians together and defeat the Hellhounds. Trust me.”
“I do, Conn, I do.” She gazed at him, filled with love for this man who had rescued her from her enemies and turned her lonely life around, claiming her body, heart and soul. The future held unknown danger, but with Conn by her side, she found it far less frightening.
DECODING MICHAELA
Romancing the Guardians, Book Two
By
Lyn Horner
“No one can tell, when two people walk closely together, what unconscious communication one mind may have with another.”― Robert Barr, Selected Stories of Robert Barr
CHAPTER ONE
Dev Medina couldn’t get the golden goddess off his mind. Who was she? Would he meet her in Galveston as he hoped? He should be planning how to approach Dr. Michael Peterson, his main purpose for making the hour’s drive down here from his home in Houston. Yet, as he crossed the causeway bridge leading to the barrier island, surrounded by the sparkling blue-gray water of Galveston Bay, his thoughts kept drifting to her.
She had first appeared on the night his former best friend, Conn O’Shea, and his lady, Lara Spenser, arrived on his doorstep. They’d waked him from a dream of the golden woman strolling toward him along a sunny beach – just as he was about to ask her name. Since then, she’d visited him twice more in identical dreams, and he’d come to suspect the beach where they were destined to meet lay here on the island. Whether it did or not, he knew he would encounter the gorgeous creature in the flesh sooner or later because when he had vivid, repeated dreams like that, they always came true.
After he passed on Lara’s secret message to Dr. Peterson, maybe he’d ask the man if he knew of a woman fitting the description of his golden girl. It couldn’t hurt.
Reaching the island, Dev tooled down Broadway, the main artery running eastward diagonally across the long, narrow land mass. He missed the majestic oaks that used to grow along the boulevard. Hurricane Ike’s salty storm surge had killed them all back in 2008.
He had the doc’s address and since he’d been down here many times, he had a pretty good idea where to find his place. This being Saturday morning, he hoped to catch the man at home. He’d thought of calling and making an appointment to see him before leaving home, but had failed to think of a plausible reason for his urgent request. After all, he couldn’t blurt out the truth over the phone. That might scare off the doc before they even met.
Now, though, he decided he’d better phone first rather than show up unannounced. What h
e would say, he still didn’t know. Turning into a narrow parking lot outside a stately old mansion now occupied by law offices, he stopped and dug out his smart phone. He easily found Dr. M. Peterson’s home number on the internet and tapped in the numbers. His call was answered on the third ring.
“Doctor Peterson’s residence,” said a woman’s soft Hispanic-accented voice.
“Hello, can I speak to the doctor, please.”
“The doctor is not in, señor. Will you leave a message?”
Frowning, Dev considered giving his name and asking the woman to tell Doc Peterson it was vital they meet as soon as possible, but he decided against it. As before, he didn’t want to alarm the man. “Uh, no, I’ll call back later. Thanks.”
He sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his Range Rover, disappointed that he couldn’t immediately carry out the task he’d volunteered for in order to keep Lara safe. Not to help Conn out, that was for damn sure! He gritted his teeth at the thought.
Shoving aside bitter memories, Dev headed for the hotel on Seawall Boulevard where he usually stayed during trips to Galveston. He hadn’t made a reservation but since it wasn’t the height of tourist season, he had no problem procuring a room. Taking an elevator to the third floor, he dropped off his duffle bag in the room then doubled back downstairs to grab some lunch in the hotel’s informal grill.
Once he’d filled his stomach, he debated whether to call the doc’s place again but figured it was too soon. Instead, he decided to check out the beach. Maybe he’d get lucky and meet his dream girl. Besides, this would probably be his last time on the beach until next spring. The warm gulf coast weather was holding, but it wouldn’t last forever. Decision made, he went to his room, exchanged his chukka boots for the sandals he’d packed and secured his shoulder length hair in a tail at the base of his neck to keep it off his face on the windswept beach.
He wasn’t the only one out to enjoy the warm day. A number of people dotted the long sandy beach, although it wasn’t overly crowded. Rolling up his jeans to mid-calf, he kicked off his sandals and swung them by two fingers as he strolled along the shore, enjoying the feel of wet sand shifting under his feet and squishing between his toes.
The sun beat down through his shirt onto the tender, barely healed skin of his back exactly as it had in his dreams of the golden goddess. Just a coincidence? A frothy wave rippled around his ankles then receded, revealing a half buried soft drink can. He prodded it out of the sand with his big toe and stooped to pick it up. What was the matter with people, dropping litter everywhere as if the planet was nothing but a huge garbage dump?
Disgusted, he shook water and sand from the can and looked around for a trash receptacle. To his left, he saw a group of teenagers playing beach volleyball, an elderly couple strolling hand in hand along the sea wall behind the beach, and a family gathered on a blanket, eating a picnic lunch. A trash can stood maybe a hundred yards away. To his right, he spotted a closer one and started toward it. Then a figure in the distance caught his gaze and he froze.
He held his breath, uncertain about what he was seeing. The figure shimmered in the sun, appearing almost ghostly. It was a woman, he thought. Could she be the one he’d been dreaming of? He stared, mesmerized as she slowly drifted closer. Heart pounding, he watched her scuff at the sand and playfully dodge waves just like in his dreams. Now and then she glanced out to sea and at the gulls diving for fish. Noticing that her long, windblown hair was the same honey-gold as her skin, he had no further doubt. It was her, his golden goddess!
She drew closer still, allowing him a better look at her tall, voluptuous form. Wearing a sarong done in colors of gold, brown and green that hugged her curves, she made Dev’s blood burn with a heady urge to unwrap that gorgeous body.
Suddenly, she stopped, brushed her hair away from her face and stared straight at him. Her bold yet feminine jaw, high cheek bones and strikingly light eyes were familiar to him from his dreams. Even so, she made his breath catch. His gut clenched and his heart tried to jump out of his chest. He couldn’t tear his gaze away as her long, beautiful legs closed the distance between them. She halted a few feet away and crossed her arms under breasts that would fit perfectly in his hands.
“Excuse me, do I know you, mister?” she asked, arching tawny gold brows. Her ice-blue eyes glittered like diamonds. Her voice sounded curious but cool.
Should he mention his dreams of her? No, she’d think he’d lost his marbles “Don’t reckon we’ve met before, little lady. I’d remember if we had,” he drawled and grinned, knowing exactly how she would react.
“Then why were you staring at me?” Her luscious pink lips flattened into a thin line and those diamond eyes of hers drilled into him.
He dropped the exaggerated drawl. “Sorry, ma’am, no insult intended. You made such a pretty picture that I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Her cheeks took on a pink glow and her mouth softened. “I accept your apology.”
Grinning, he said what he’d said in his dreams. “If you don’t mind me saying so, a beautiful woman like you should be used to admiring stares.”
She blushed a brighter shade of pink. “Thank you for the compliment, Mr… .”
He held out his hand to her. “Medina, Dev Medina, ma’am. And what might your –”
“Mickie!” a man’s voice shouted, cutting him off.
Dev’s golden goddess turned and waved to the guy, who came striding up the beach from the opposite direction she’d come from. Dressed in white shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, with his dark hair waving in the sea breeze, he looked like he’d stepped out of an ad for resort wear. He set Dev’s teeth on edge.
Mickie – nice name – faced him again and smiled, with a hint of regret he thought. “Excuse me, I have to go. Sorry.” Her gaze held his for a brief moment; then she hurried to meet the interloper.
Deflated, Dev watched the man put his arm around her. He said something that made her laugh and bent to kiss her cheek. Dev ground his teeth as the two strolled away, itching to go and break them apart. The woman was supposed to be his. If not, why had he dreamed of her?
Dev prowled back and forth across his hotel room, pausing now and then by the wall of windows. Staring past Seawall Boulevard and the beach beyond, he watched the rolling waters of the gulf, but the sight didn’t really soak into his consciousness. All he saw in his mind’s eye was her, Mickie, his golden goddess. Her beautiful face and glittering eyes held him captive, just as in his dreams. He knew with every fiber of his being that she was meant for him, not that slick dude she’d walked off with.
He pounded a fist into his other hand, halfway regretting he hadn’t punched the other guy in the mouth and hauled her away caveman style. Thankfully, his civilized side had warned him he wouldn’t score points with her by acting like a jerk. Now, though, he wished he’d at least asked for her phone number.
How was he to see her again when he didn’t know her full name or where to find her? Unless … . Maybe he should stay here a while after completing his mission for Lara. If he hung out on the beach every afternoon, would his golden girl return? Yeah right. Who was he kidding? She might not even live on the island. She could just be here for the weekend, the same as him, in which case she might not return for weeks or months, if ever.
Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, Dev cursed roundly and swung away from the window. It wouldn’t do any good to stay here brooding over the woman. He had a job to do. Rather than phone Dr. Peterson’s house again, he decided to drive over there and ring the bell. If the doc still wasn’t home, he’d park nearby and wait for him to show up.
Peterson lived in Galveston’s historic East End, where nineteenth century architecture harked back to the island’s heyday. Some of the Victorian homes – Painted Ladies he’d heard them called because of their many colors – were of average size, others he would call mansions. All were ornate and pricey, meaning the doc must be doing okay, no surprise for a doctor, Dev supposed.
Familiar with the area, it didn’t take him long to find the right house. He parked out front and looked the place over. Raised on stilts or blocks like most buildings on the island after the deadly hurricane of 1900, it was two stories high but not very wide, with only a few yards separating it from neighboring homes.
Dev assumed the house had suffered flood damage in Hurricane Ike, but the owner had obviously seen to its repair. Painted light tan with darker tan and green trim, decked out with fancy Victorian gingerbread, and framed by palm trees and oleanders, the place was picture-perfect.
Striding up the pavestone walk, he climbed a flight of steps to the front door and pressed the buzzer. Nervous because he still didn’t know exactly what he would say to the doctor, he stuffed both hands in his pants pockets and waited. Within seconds, he heard footsteps approach inside. The door opened to reveal a stout woman with tan skin and graying hair combed tightly back from her round face. A dark blue dress outlined her matronly form.
“Can I help you, señor?
“Yes ma’am, I’m here to see Dr. Peterson. I phoned earlier.”
“Ah, sí, I remember. The doctor came home a few minutes ago only. I do not think –”
“Who is it, Bianca?” a woman called from somewhere within. Her voice sounded familiar.
“It is a man who called before, señora.”
Dev heard high heels clicking on a tile floor. The housekeeper – he assumed that’s who she was – stepped aside. A tall woman walked out of the shadows and Dev stopped breathing. It was Mickie, his golden goddess! Instead of a sarong, she now wore a black cocktail dress that hugged her shapely figure then flared out below her hips, ending a few inches above her knees, showing off long, gorgeous legs. She looked sophisticated and every bit as beautiful as on the beach.
“You!” she blurted, halting a few feet away, light eyes wide with surprise. “Did you follow me?”
Dev released his breath. “No ma’am. I’m here to see Dr. Peterson.” He paused to clear his raspy throat. “I had no idea I’d find you here.”