For Her Eyes Only

by Cait London

  “No wine? Nothing to eat? I’m sorry you didn’t want to share my dinner with me. I would have been so pleased to dine with an Aisling…. Well, then, I suppose we’ll have to get busy.”

  Rolf Erling moved to a side table where his sword rested and inserted a needle into a vial. “Just a little something to help you relax, Leona. Vernon, over there, got to really enjoying liquor and pills. When I needed to be Vernon, I simply drugged him. He was the perfect choice to move around your life—the perfect identity. I’m good at assuming other identities…. Once you both are in the car, and I’m ready, I’ll call your boyfriend. Owen will come and a dart will make him quite pliable. It’s a serum I learned while in the Amazon. The subject can feel and hear everything. They just can’t move for a time.”

  Leona’s senses had been tingling. A vision of a man moving through the shadows flipped through her mind. He was hunting. A silver rune gleamed at his throat Owen?

  A dog moved at his side, both hunters sliding quietly through the night.

  Rolf tapped the needle and a liquid sprayed into the air. “I’m all packed and ready to leave. I’ll be visiting your sisters next—probably Claire. She’ll be the most affected, the weakest. Tempest and Greer will be very easy…. Too bad Owen won’t be able to appreciate my craftsmanship. I would have liked him to watch.”

  A shadow moved at the doorway, and Owen said, “I’m here now. Why don’t you tell me about it, Rolf?”

  “Owen!” Leona struggled against her bonds but couldn’t get free. She kicked her legs, accidently bumping the serving tray. The large silver platter fell to the floor, shards of the wineglasses tumbling around it.

  Owen wore the brooch at his throat—the genuine artifact. Tethered by leather thongs, the large rectangular silver-and-alloy brooch gleamed, almost as if it were recharged and ready for battle. A big hunting-knife sheath was at Owen’s hip, and he wore beaded moccasins. His eyes were the color of ice.

  He moved in a blur, flipping the knife into his hand and crossing to where Leona was strapped to the recliner. One tug at her wrists, and she was free, even as Owen moved in front of her.

  Rolf pivoted, both hands expertly gripping the sword in front of him. Waves of masculine emotions chafed Leona, as the two men stared at each other. Owen’s anger was cold and deadly; Rolf’s was red-hot and crazed. He stared at the brooch. “You are wearing the real brooch.”

  “House of the Wolf, Thorgood the Great, whose mighty hand holds his people safe, who will kill those who defy him. His line will be long and powerful, reigning after him, for he who holds the wolf, holds the power,” Owen softly repeated Thorgood’s boast. “And it’s mine. The woman of Aisling is mine, too. I have everything you want—the brooch, the woman, and most of all the power…. You feel it, don’t you, Rolf? That weak curse your ancestor placed on it? You’re welcome to try to take it anytime.”

  Owen’s tone sent chills through Leona. He taunted Rolf, and he meant to kill him. “Owen—”

  When Rolf lifted his sword to his face in a salute, Owen spoke too quietly. “Leona, stay back. This has to end here. I’m going to finish him. If it doesn’t end now, he’ll just be back.”

  “You’ve got that right, Shaw-shaman.” Rolf began closing the distance between them, his blade raised in an expert stance. “I’m going to wear that brooch tonight, and I’m going to have Leona first—before I kill her.”

  Owen’s single word cut through the air. “Try.”

  When Leona gripped the back of Owen’s shirt, he shoved her back. “Keep out of the way.”

  The force sent her stumbling against the wall. Before she could catch her breath, a vise clamped around her ankle. Vernon looked up at her, his eyes wild and murderous.

  She struggled against his grip. “Vernon, don’t do this.”

  He turned slowly to the two men circling each other, one held a sword, the other with only a hunting knife. “Figures. That’s a Bowie. I knew Shaw would have something like that.”

  “Vernon, I know you didn’t want to be any part of this.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” he muttered.

  Terrified that the big muscular man would help Rolf, Leona struggled with all her might. “Vernon, let me go.”

  His other hand raised, clamping on her wrist. He started easing upward until he stood and leaned against the wall. Vernon’s gaze remained locked on the two men in the center of the room.

  “I’m going to kill him,” Vernon repeated as he seemed to try to shake free of his stupor. He drew Leona along the wall, out of the main area. “You stay put.”

  An expert swordsman, Rolf moved toward Owen, who held only his knife. Owen danced out of the way as the blade swished toward him, then again. The deadly sword came down, slicing into the drums. Cymbals crashed, the bass drum toppled. Owen weaved around the set, and Leona realized he was drawing Rolf away from her. “Vernon, let her go,” Owen ordered. “You don’t want to hurt her.”

  Beside Leona, Vernon was breathing hard. He leaned forward, engrossed in the fight, as if he were waiting for his chance to enter it. Leona fought Vernon’s grip, but he held tight.

  “I marked you, Shaw. And now I’m going to kill you,” Rolf said as he continued forcing Owen backward.

  “Try.” Owen bent quickly as Rolf’s blade went over his head. When Owen came up, he held the large serving tray in his hand.

  Sword and shield, the protector staking his life for an Aisling. The thought ricocheted around Leona and in her mind she saw another battle, the protectors moving in on Borg and his men, ready to protect Aisling….

  “Let her go, Vernon,” Owen repeated quietly. “Or you’re next.”

  Rolf laughed wildly. In that instant, Owen moved in close and slashed the other man’s arm. Blood flowed over the expensive material, and Rolf looked down in disbelief. In that instant, Owen’s blade swung upward, skimmed a thin line along Rolf’s cheek, then sheared a braid.

  Almost in slow motion, the thin braid arced in the air. Owen caught it on the flat of his blade and flipped it toward Leona’s tote. “Keep that for me.”

  Rolf felt for the missing braid as he stared at the blood running down his arm. He felt his cheek and appeared stunned at the blood on his fingers. Owen smiled coldly. “First blood, Rolf. You’re marked now.”

  Leona concentrated on that blood, seeing it in her mind, increasing the flow. She had to weaken Rolf; his sword was an advantage Owen couldn’t afford.

  Filled with rage now, Rolf slashed wildly as Owen danced out of the way. He sailed the silver platter into Rolf’s midsection, almost as if the heavy platter was a child’s toy. Rolf went down to his knees, momentarily stunned, and Owen moved in quickly, his blade at the other man’s throat. “I’ve marked you, Erling. You’re my kill now.”

  Suddenly, Vernon released Leona and pushed from the wall into the battle. “No, you can’t…. He’s…”

  Rolf’s raised blade caught the onrushing man in the side, and Vernon fell upon Rolf. “He’s mine! Get her out of here,” Vernon yelled, apparently unfazed by the wound.

  Owen hesitated, then looked at Leona, who was rushing toward him. He caught her body to him as he ran out of the house and into the night. Taking her hand, he ran down the driveway toward the main gates of the estate. “I want you out of here. Nothing can happen to you.”

  Breathing hard, Leona managed, “You’re not going back in there without me.”

  From across the shadowy driveway, a big man moved, the three-foot-long blade glinting in the moonlight. He held an automatic in his other hand, aimed at Leona and Owen. “I’m getting that brooch, Shaw,” Rolf stated coldly.

  “Not tonight. Not ever.” Owen glanced at the driveway’s front gates. They swung open and headlights bit through the night.

  Max appeared in the shadows beside Owen, clearly poised to leap at Rolf, to tear out his throat. “Stay, Max. Leona, if you have to, let Max do what he needs to do.”

  The rev of a huge motor signaled a large bus approaching at a fast
speed, building momentum to climb up the hill to the estate.

  “Get out of here! I have to pay back what I’ve done!” Vernon yelled as he ran, plowing into Rolf.

  The momentum took both men into the path of the speeding bus.

  Almost as if in slow motion, Billy Balleau’s tour bus appeared to hit both men, the heavy weight rolling over them.

  In a heartbeat, Owen ran toward the men, the bus’s brakelights silhouetting his body. He bent over the crumbled body, then ran back to Leona. “Erling wasn’t hit. He’s out there somewhere.”

  He nudged Leona back into the night’s shadows. She held Max’s collar as the men leaped from the bus circling back to Vernon’s crushed body. Highlighted in the brakelights, Billy Balleau yelled, “Damn groupies! Can’t ever get away from them! They’re everywhere. Hey! Wait a minute. That’s my damn house-sitter. What the hell?”

  Another man stood looking down at Vernon’s body. He pushed back his Western hat. “I wasn’t driving that fast. He just jumped out in front of me. But I thought I saw two men.”

  “Oh, Felix. I told you to get different glasses for driving at night. Now you’re seeing double. Call the police. Like I need this.”

  Owen quietly eased Leona and Max off into the nearby trees. With a nod, Owen indicated a vehicle moving down a back road. Though the headlights were out, in the moonlight he could see it was an SUV. “That’s Erling. Let’s go.”

  Nineteen

  “OWEN, WHY AREN’T WE FOLLOWING HIM?” LEONA ASKED, as Owen made no attempt to follow the SUV. Instead, he drove his pickup in another direction.

  “I don’t think we have to worry about losing Erling.”

  “Is that all you have to say? I want it to end, Owen. We can’t let Rolf get away.” The dashboard’s dim light did not soften Owen’s grim profile. On Leona’s other side, Max sat, his body tense, periodically snarling and revealing his teeth. Both males were focused and grim. Both were on the hunt. Both could get killed.

  The violence of the past moments quivered around Leona. “My mother knew exactly what you would do with that brooch, didn’t she?”

  “Greer knew I needed this. He’d used Janice as bait, and this brooch was certain to draw him out. He and his ancestors have been weaving around yours for centuries. It’s time it ended…. When we come to this next intersection, I want you to get out. Take Max with you—and that purse.” Owen glanced at the travel bag Leona clutched tightly against her. Leona hadn’t realized she’d grabbed it on their way out. Terrified and hurried, she hadn’t wanted to leave any part of her life near Rolf.

  Stunned by his order, Leona stared at him. After all that had happened, she couldn’t bear being away from Owen. “Where am I going?”

  “Anywhere safe. I’ll call you as soon as it’s finished.”

  “‘As soon as it’s finished.’” Leona held her breath; frustration churned in her like fire. “Don’t tell me. This is man’s work, right?”

  Owen didn’t look at Leona. “I can’t see you in a sword fight, honey. This isn’t going to be a mental-break-bones. When it comes down to muscle alone, I’m the best competition. Rolf is mad enough, crazy enough to want flesh and blood, to best himself with that sword.”

  “I will see this through, Owen Wolf Shaw. I will not hide. I claim my right, given to me by my bloodline, just as you claim yours.”

  “Garbage, and you know it. Nothing will stop him, but death. If anything happens to you and your family—”

  “I know exactly what could happen. Rolf made that crystal-clear.” Leona tried to hold on to whatever logic was still floating around them. She gripped Max’s pelt for comfort. The dog wasn’t listening, and neither was Owen. Leona’s fear for Owen ran to panic; regardless of danger to himself, he was determined to see Rolf dead. “I love you, Owen.”

  Owen’s reply seemed automatic. “Love you, too.” He leaned forward, slowing to stop for a red light. “Get out. Now. Take Max.”

  He reached across Leona and Max to open the door. “Out.”

  When the dog didn’t move, Leona swung the door closed. “He’s not going anywhere, and neither am I. What the hell are we doing, parked here and letting that monster escape? I am not hiding from Rolf. We should have followed him.”

  Leona dug her fingers into Owen’s thigh. “This is idiotic. He has a gun, Owen. He could shoot at us at any time. If I get out, it will be to find him—by myself.”

  “You would, too…. Stubborn woman. Okay, then. We didn’t follow him because—” The light turned green, and Owen’s pickup surged forward. “That bastard has made a boast. He has to deliver—kill me and get the brooch and you—tonight. His call. I’m just going to make it easy for him. He’ll check your place first, then he’ll drive to the farm. I intend to be waiting. It’s better that a showdown doesn’t take place where other people could get hurt. Your neighbors on that cul-de-sac might not know how to handle a sword coming at them.”

  Owen was primed for a rematch, and Rolf had a gun and that deadly sword; though Leona had seen Owen’s skill, she didn’t bother to hide the fear in her voice. “We could drive away. You don’t have to do this, Owen.”

  This time, Owen turned to her, his eyes glinting in the shadows. “Sure. You were all decked out, using yourself as bait. What am I doing that is any different?”

  Leona gripped the brooch, and a surge of another woman’s fear coursed up her arm. Instinctively, she knew that Aisling had feared for Thorgood, a man set on protecting his honor and his love.

  “Dammit,” she whispered as she stared out at the moonlit night, the peaceful pastures and the rock fences lining the familiar road to the Shaws’ farm. “I know. A man has to do what a man has to do.”

  “You got that right. Erling is a killer, and he won’t stop. Prison won’t hold him. He’ll just be in the wings, waiting to harm your family—and a lot of other people in the process.” Owen glanced down at the cuff bracelet Rolf had placed on her. “Take that off. Put on the brooch. If anything happens to me—”

  “It won’t. Not if I can help it.” Leona flung Rolf’s bracelet to the floorboard. She would have thrown it out the window, but then someone might find it. No one else should be affected by Rolf’s evil.

  Owen patted her leg. “Take the brooch off me. Wear it. Right now, I don’t have anything to mark you as mine. And right now, that’s the closest thing I have. Erling only needed to know that I wore it first—it’s a man-thing.”

  “I’m getting very tired of ‘man-things.’” Leona quickly donned the brooch, the metal surprisingly light, despite the large size. When she wrapped her arms around Owen, he glanced at her. His second glance was longer, and he briefly bent to kiss her tears.

  “Don’t cry, honey. Those little red-haired nieces of yours are going to be just fine. Everyone is.” Owen wrapped his arm around her and pressed her close. “I’ll be safe. He’s not going to use that automatic. He’ll want to use that sword. He has to prove himself, to him and to his bloodline, and whatever other garbage goes through his head. I didn’t learn how to fight in a pretty gym. Our skirmish will be outside, my advantage. I also see well at night. Erling needed those contact lenses and glasses for a reason.”

  “Sure. You’re having your high noon at nine o’clock at night. You’ve changed the dynamics from a gunfight to sword and knife. Men have to show up. Men have to die—one or both.”

  “That’s about right.”

  At the Shaws’ farm, Owen parked the pickup. “I want you and Max inside the house. I’ll show you how to use a shotgun, just in case. Wait here a moment while I check out the grounds. Let Max out and lock the doors.”

  Leona waited only seconds after Owen and Max started patrolling, then she got out of the pickup. Owen met her on the front steps. “Okay, I’ll ask: What’s in the bag? It must be good for you to keep it so close.”

  “Things. My things. My bag.”

  “Must be special.”

  “I didn’t want Rolf to have any part of me.” She glanced at the
thin black braid lying on top of her clothing. “But I guess I have something of his. What made you do that?”

  “Instincts. ‘Counting coup’ is also an age-old tradition. He’ll want it back. He’s not getting it.” Owen glanced around the house and drew his blade; he cautiously advanced into the house. At his nod, Max started hunting through the rooms.

  “Stay in. Keep the door shut,” Owen ordered Leona when Max returned. Apparently, Max’s quick check of the house revealed nothing.

  In the darkness, Owen briefly held Leona. “Take it easy. We can do this, Leona.”

  Leaning away from her, he scanned her face. “You’re white and shaking…. Don’t blame you. If this goes down wrong—but it won’t—I want you to let Max go. Rolf will have to deal with him while you get in that pickup and get the hell away. Got it?”

  When Leona didn’t agree, Owen shook her gently. “Do it.”

  “Wait here? While you’re out there with him? I don’t think so.”

  Owen took a deep breath and shook his head. “About this Thorgood’s warrior-descendant thing, add in a little old-fashioned shaman to the bloodline, whatever.”

  “We know all that.”

  “Sure. You know everything. Maybe I’d better tell you what I know.”

  Leona crossed her arms and stood back. “Rolf was kind enough to inform me that you have visions. It would have been great if you’d mentioned it earlier. Tell me.”

  “Okay, I have some—powers, gifts, whatever. I came out here, explored myself, bonded with nature, let some ancestral memories trickle into me…. We all knew Borg would do everything in his power to ensure the end of Thorgood and Aisling’s bloodline. I knew it. I saw Borg lay his curse on that same brooch. Rather, that vision came to me as I breathed in the scent of Montana’s sweetgrass.”

  “‘Sweetgrass?”

  “I brought some braids with me. I burned one in the way of the old people. I let myself become one with the earth and blood from the ancients, and I saw things.”