by Lyn Horner
Already on a short fuse, Dev’s temper exploded. He slammed his empty glass down on the bar and, with a furious growl, hauled back and planted his fist in the punk’s face. The skinny kid cried out and toppled against his pal. The beer mug slipped from his grasp, shattering to pieces on the floor and spreading a golden puddle of beer. Several people gasped or cursed and scuttled out of the way.
Groaning, the kid clutched his bloody nose. His older, shorter but more heavily muscled buddy steadied him and glared at Dev. “You didn’t have to do that, mister. He said he was sorry.”
“Yeah, he was real sorry. And who are you, his nanny?”
Stepping around the kid, the man snarled, “No, I’m his brother, you stupid redneck!” Then he swung, landing a hard right on Dev’s jaw, knocking him backward against the bar.
Seeing stars, Dev shook his head to clear it. When his ears stopped ringing and he could see straight, he heard customers complaining to the wait staff and noticed bar patrons had crowded into the restaurant area, giving him and the two brothers a wide berth. The kid stood hunched over the bar, dabbing at his nose with a cocktail napkin. The older guy stood in a fighter’s crouch, head tucked low and fists up, ready to deliver more punishment. He was several inches shorter than Dev, but he sure could hit.
“You pack a hell of a wallop, mister. You a pro?”
The man straightened slightly, scowling at Dev from beneath dark, bushy brows. “No, I learned how to protect myself and my little brother the hard way, on the streets. You want me to prove it?”
“No, I believe you.” Dev grinned and winced as pain shot through his jaw. Cupping the tender area with his hand, he felt it starting to swell. He would be a pretty sight tomorrow when he hoped … no, planned to see Michaela Peterson again.
“Look, I had a bad day and I lost my temper. Sorry for taking it out on the kid. I mean your brother.” He offered his hand. “I’m Dev Medina.”
His opponent slowly relaxed. Lowering his arms, he hesitated then firmly clasped Dev’s hand. “Russell McKinney.” He tipped his head toward his brother. “He’s Junior.”
“Ah, Russ, don’t call me that. You know I hate it,” the kid protested, straightening away from the bar. He sounded like he had a bad cold, obviously because he couldn’t breathe through his puffy nose. Facing Dev, he added, “My name is Bobby McKinney. I’m sorry, too, for making you spill your drink.” He ducked his head. “And for laughing at you.”
Before Dev could reply, a tall black guy strode into the room, past watching customers. Bald as a baby’s bottom and built like a linebacker, he wore a navy blue blazer with the hotel logo monogrammed on his breast pocket. Dev realized he must be hotel security and raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. Russell McKinney took his cue and did likewise.
“It’s all over,” Dev told the big man. “Sorry for causing a ruckus.”
Crossing his massive arms, the bouncer – that’s what he really was – eyed all three of them with a frown that could turn sweet cream sour. “You boys need to leave,” he said in a voice as deep as the Grand Canyon. “This is a respectable hotel. We don’t put up with barroom brawls.”
“Yes, sir. My brother and I were just on our way out,” the elder McKinney said. “Come on, Bobby, let’s go.” Glancing at Dev, he jerked his thumb toward the lobby then strode from the restaurant with the kid on his tail.
Dev pulled out his wallet and slapped down a hundred bucks on the bar. “For the damages and your trouble,” he told the bar tender, who had moved to the far end of his domain, out of harm’s way. With a nod at the intimidating security guy, he followed the two brothers out. He found them waiting inside the hotel entrance.
“We’re going to go grab some burgers. You want to join us?” Russell asked.
“Sounds good to me.” Stomach rumbling in approval, he agreed to meet them at their favorite café a few blocks away.
The place wasn’t fancy but Dev’s man-size burger was grilled to perfection and loaded with onions, cheese and tomato slices the way he liked. The fries that came with it were thick and fresh-cut, not shipped frozen from some far off location. Only problem was he had to take small bites and chew slowly to minimize the pain in his jaw.
“You boys live on the island?” he inquired between bites.
“For now. We’re from up north, Detroit to be exact,” Russell replied. “We’re here on a job.” He gulped down a hefty swig of cola. “What about you? You sound local.”
Dev cocked an eyebrow. After years of globe hopping he didn’t think he had much Texas accent left. “You’ve got a good ear. Houston is my hometown, an hour up the road. I drove down here to visit someone.” He chewed another bite then asked, “What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a construction manager. Bobby’s a roughneck learning the ropes. We’re working on the hospital.”
“The UT Medical Branch?”
“Yeah. The place really took a beating in the hurricane back in ’08, but it’s coming along good. With the changes we’re making, the structure should stand up better to the next big blow.”
“That’s great. So, when the job’s done what comes next? Will you stay in Galveston?”
“Hell no! You southern boys can keep the heat and the humidity. Give us some snow and ice. Right, Bobby?”
“Sure, Russ,” the kid mumbled with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
Smothering a painful grin, Dev got them talking more about themselves and told them about his days in the Army, omitting a lot they didn’t need to know. Before he parted ways with the pair, he found out where they were living and requested Russ’s cell number, saying he might have a little side job for them. Something told him he would need their help in protecting Michaela Peterson until he convinced her to leave the island.
*
Michaela smiled when Andrew announced he had made a reservation for them at The Steakhouse in the luxurious San Luis Resort on Seawall Boulevard, where he was staying during his visit to Galveston. It was one of her favorite dining spots and one of the most expensive on the island. Her escort was evidently out to impress her.
“Nice place,” he remarked as they entered the restaurant, tucked in off the San Luis’s grand Promenade Walk. “I ate here the first night I was in town. The food is as good as I’d heard.”
“Mmm. I’ve always found it delicious,” she said, letting him know she was no stranger to the quiet elegance of mahogany and leather appointments and fabulous cuisine the Steak House was famous for all over Texas.
They were seated promptly and their server instantly appeared with menus and a wine list. Once they placed their order, the waiter faded into the background, allowing them privacy.
“Are you enjoying your stay on the island?” Michaela asked, spreading a linen napkin across her lap.
“Very much. The weather has been perfect.” Andrew glanced out the plate glass window and nodded at the vast expanse of silvery gray water beyond the sea wall. “And I don’t see views like this back home.” He turned his dark brown eyes to her. “Or like you.”
“You know how to flatter a girl, sir,” she said with a crook of her lips.
He reached out, laying his hand over hers on the table. “It’s not flattery. You’re lovely, Michaela, and fascinating. I hope to unlock all your secrets.”
“You think I have secrets?” Stiffening, she fought not to withdraw her hand from his. It was probably an innocent statement, but Dev Medina’s warning made her wary. She’d just met Andrew last night while out with friends for a drink after work. Had she been unwise to accept his invitation to join him for a walk on the beach today, and subsequently for dinner tonight?
“Don’t all women?” Grinning, he winked at her.
Okay, so he was simply flirting with her. She relaxed as their conversation turned to less personal subjects. Their food soon arrived and Michaela enjoyed her filet with all the trimmings, along with the well aged Bordeaux Andrew had chosen for them. While they ate, he entertained her with ta
les of life in Minneapolis, where he worked as a stock broker. He was down here on a getaway from the chilly northern autumn, he’d explained last evening.
He proved just as charming as he had then, yet his derisive remark about Dev Medina lingered in her head. She recognized it as territorial male behavior, but the enraged vibe she’d picked up from him at that moment still bothered her.
A mind probe would reveal if he harbored some nefarious interest in her, but she didn’t seriously consider it for the same reasons she hadn’t dared probe Medina’s mind. Anyway, she couldn’t do it with Andrew sitting across from her, watching her. She would have to close her eyes and concentrate; he’d know something was going on. And what if she discovered some malevolent intent in him and he sensed her intrusion? She might find herself in real danger.
“Would you like to go for a stroll along the sea wall and look at the stars?” he asked a few moments later as he paid the check and left a hefty tip for their waiter.
“I’d love to, but I have some case files to go over. Do you mind if we call it a night?” It wasn’t a total lie; she did have two patient files to review, but they could wait until tomorrow.
Andrew’s mouth hardened for an instant then relaxed. “Of course. In your profession and mine, work must come first.”
“That’s true. Thank you for understanding.” She smiled gratefully when he rose to pull out her chair and help her on with the silk shawl.
He drove her home and saw her up the steps to her front door. As she dug the key from her handbag, he asked, “Can I see you again, Michaela? Tomorrow perhaps? It promises to be another beautiful day.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be free,” she hedged. “But you have my number. If you want, you can call me, say around noon. I should know by then whether I’ll be tied up or not.”
“I’ll do that.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek and waited until she was safely inside.
She pressed her ear to the door, listening until his footsteps faded away. You’re being ridiculously paranoid now, she scolded herself. If you’re not careful you’ll soon be thinking everyone is out to get you, like some of your patients. Yes, but in my case there really might be someone out to get me and the scroll I guard.
Shoving the disturbing thought aside, Michaela made sure all the doors and windows were locked then retreated to her bedroom. Maybe she would treat herself to an hour or two of reading for pure pleasure instead of studying patient files. She stepped out of her black open-toed pumps, placed them neatly away in her closet and started to unzip her dress. Pausing, she glanced at the print of Renoir’s La Balançoire – The Swing – hanging over her bed.
She hadn’t looked behind it in some time. Perhaps she should make sure all was well.
CHAPTER THREE
Michaela set aside the electronic bug detector she’d used to check her bedroom for hidden monitoring devices. She always took this precaution before removing the scroll from its hiding place. Best to be safe, she believed, especially in view of the possible new threat Dev Medina had warned her about.
She walked into her en suite bathroom and pulled out the vanity drawer, filled with an assortment of combs, hair clips and makeup paraphernalia. Hidden amid the jumble, where she hoped no one would ever think to search was a small, thin security wrench. She retrieved it, stepped back into the bedroom and padded across the white plush carpet to her bed. Turning back the mint-green comforter and tossing pillows out of the way, she climbed onto the high mattress and knelt in front of the cherry headboard.
She used the little wrench to loosen screws on the back of the guilt picture frame, a security system she had installed herself, with considerable difficulty, to prevent anyone from removing the print. Once the screws were loosened, she carefully lifted the piece off its hangers, revealing the wall safe behind it.
Laying the print behind her on the bed, Michaela worked the safe’s combination lock. It clicked and released and she opened the door. Inside the safe lay a small metal tube, bluish in color and cool to the touch when she lifted it out. She shifted to sit on the bed with her back against the headboard and unscrewed the tube’s tightly sealed cap. Setting it aside, she tipped the container and gently removed the ancient scroll it protected.
Exactly how old the document was, she didn’t know except that it dated back to the time of her Tuatha Dé Danann ancestors, thousands of years ago. Even as old as it was, the creamy white parchment had remained supple and free of discoloration, no doubt thanks to the unique metal tube.
This scroll had been in her family for untold generations, passed down from one specially gifted member to the next. Each was chosen for his or her ability to read another person’s thoughts, in honor of the author of this scroll and his prophesy. Awestruck as always when handling it, Michaela reverently unfurled the precious relic. She had long since translated the ancient alien text under her mother’s – her predecessor’s – guidance, as all apprentice Guardians were required to do. Although she had committed the words to memory, they still sent chills down her spine as she read them again.
I Cáel am blessed with the ability to look into another’s thoughts, a gift bestowed upon me by Danu, the Great Mother. Glory to her name! Now, she has also allowed me to behold a time far in the future when my gift will be shared by many among the race of humankind, and it will not be the only power granted them.
Some will heal with a touch of the mind as our own healers do. Others will move objects with naught but a thought or leave their bodies and travel afar. Still others will communicate with animals or possess a special talent for growing food plants, while some may control armies or the world’s wealth.
These are only a few of the gifts Danu shall grant the far distant inhabitants of planet Earth. Until that time, I and my descendants are charged with guarding this prophesy, which is the Word of Danu.
Michaela sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, filled with the mellow euphoria she always experienced after reading the treasured prophesy. It was like being touched by the hand of the Goddess. Glory to Danu, indeed!
Coming back to herself, she rolled up the parchment scroll, inserted it into the metal tube, closed it and placed it back in the safe. Once she had secured the Renoir print to the wall, she prepared for bed. She no longer felt the need to read in order to relax. Turning off the bedside lamp, she snuggled beneath the lightweight comforter and drifted to sleep.
Her dreams were peopled by dark figures chasing her, held at bay by a sword wielding Norseman with long blond hair, bulging biceps and Dev Medina’s face. A ghostly white hand reached down to touch his head as if blessing him. She recognized the hand of Danu. Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up in bed, breathing hard, still seeing her dream image. Was her subconscious telling her to trust the man? Or had the Goddess just sent her a message?
*
Dev woke up early Sunday morning. After showering and shaving, he ordered breakfast from room service then showered and dressed while he waited. Later, as he tucked into pancakes, eggs and bacon, he caught the morning news on CNN. All of which took up less than an hour. After that he paced his room, stared out the window and waited for a call from Michaela Peterson.
Ten o’clock came and went with his impatience growing by the minute. Why didn’t she call? He’d spelled out the danger she potentially faced. Didn’t she believe him? Was she thinking over what he’d told her? Or was she otherwise occupied?
Imagining his golden goddess lying in Andrew Kohler’s arms, Dev ground his teeth. He couldn’t stand the idea. Jealousy was a large part of it, but his gut also told him there was something fishy about the man. And he trusted his gut.
This wondering and waiting was driving him crazy. Cussing, he grabbed his phone and punched in her number. She answered on the second ring.
“Mr. Medina, I thought we agreed I would call you,” she said in a frosty tone.
“Yeah, we did, but the day is nearly half gone. I was worried you. Have you made up your mind to leave Galveston li
ke Lara advised?”
“No I haven’t,” she snapped, “and I won’t be pushed into it. Is that clear?”
“You’re being stubborn and it could cost you your life.” If they’d been in the same room, Dev might have given her a good shake. He heard her catch her breath.
“I … I believe you’re trying to help me, but it’s not an easy matter. I can’t just pick up and go. There are my patients to think of.”
He tamped down his temper. “Okay, I get that, but can’t you arrange for some other doctor to see them? They’d have no choice but to find another doc if you turned up dead.”
She made a choked sound in his ear. “That’s a cruel thing to say.”
“Maybe, but it’s the truth.” He hated hurting her, but he had to make her see reason.
“I’ve worked so hard to build my practice, to gain my patients’ trust. To just walk out on them now, I don’t know if I can do it.”
Her unhappy tone tugged at Dev’s heart. Cleary she really cared about her patients. That said a lot about the type of person she was. “Look, why don’t we set it aside for now. It’s a nice day. How about we meet for lunch then take a walk on the beach? That way, I can be sure you’re safe and keep an eye open for anyone who might be following you.”
“You think I’m being followed?” Her voice shook slightly.
“Honestly I don’t know, but those Hellhound dudes tracked Lara down. I’d like to make sure they’re not on your trail.”
“I suppose you’re right. Where do you have in mind meeting?”
“Why don’t I pick you up and you can choose a place to eat?”
“All right. Give me an hour to get ready.”
“You’ve got it. I’ll see you then.” Dev disconnected with a smile on his face. Today he’d have her to himself with no pretty boy to come between them. He looked forward to getting to know her better. It would also ease his mind to have her close, he admitted, no longer smiling. The feeling that he needed to protect her was growing stronger.
*
Michaela stared at her phone for a moment, wondering why her blood raced at the thought of seeing Dev Medina again. She barely knew him and even though he might be right about her being in danger, she didn’t care for his dogged insistence that she walk away from everything she had worked so hard to achieve. Furthermore, she’d never gone for the muscle bound type before. Yet, there was something about him that called out to her.