Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles

by Leigh Morgan

  “You remember that whippet puppy you nursed back to health and then fostered for that perfectly acceptable family Finn found for her?” Since Morgan, the now ten year old dog in question, was curled on their hand-sewn leather couch she commandeered the minute it was delivered, Shay considered his question moot.

  Jesse unclenched his arms and pushed away from the counter, taking a seat next to Morgan, careful not to disturb her. She promptly put her head in his lap, belying the point that Shay was trying in vain to make.

  “Just because you feel responsible for her and you bond doesn’t mean she’s going love you and want to put her head in your lap.”

  Two sets of eyes looked at him like he was speaking Swahili and even if they could understand him what he was saying had no relevance in their world. The doorbell rang, saving Shay from having to reason with silent man and doe-eyed dog any longer.

  Jesse put his feet on the table in front of him and pulled Morgan further into his lap, indicating he was done with his version of talking and Shay could get the damned door. Since he was willing to be done trying to reason with an unreasonable man, Shay trotted down the stairs, grateful for the distraction.

  Picking up one of his Walther PPK’s from the bureau near the door, his personal nod to Ian Fleming, Shay flicked off the safety, chambered a round and put it in his waistband at the small of his back. Then checking the side window first, he opened the door.

  “Can I help you?” Shay asked, not recognizing the imposing young man with long black curls and large gray eyes.

  “I’m looking for a Mr. Shannon O’Shay. Can you tell me if I have the correct residence?”

  Shay’s hand clenched the edge of the door, holding it firmly in place. He didn’t recognize the young man, but he recognized the accent and the tenor of the voice. He hadn’t heard either in almost twenty years. A sense of foreboding washed over him, cooling his skin, turning the drops of perspiration to salt crystals that burned his skin and threatened to burn his soul.

  “Why are you looking for O’Shay, if I may ask?” Shay said, quite certain he didn’t want to know.

  “He’s my father, and I’ve come a long way to see him. Can you direct me to his home? The woman at the grocery said I couldn’t miss it, but apparently I have.”

  Shay’s heart hammered in his chest and he felt like a stranger in his skin, like he was observing himself from far away. His voice was clear and precise when he opened the door fully and gestured the young man forward.

  “I think you’d better come in.” Shay said, closing the door after his son crossed the threshold.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mary Campbell rushed into the room as Taryn fell, but Merlin held her firmly. “She’s in good hands, Mary”, he whispered, “Let this play out.”

  Since ‘letting it play out’ suited Mary just fine, she didn’t argue further. Taryn deserved to know her birth mother and Mary would insist, now that they’d found her, that her daughter give them a chance to be a part of her life, no matter how small. With only her and her sister-in-law Olive left, Taryn needed more family to love her.

  Mary watched as Jesse Mohr picked up her daughter in his arms. He surveyed the room with a look that promised retribution if anyone tried to stop him from carrying out his duty to protect her. Then he silently walked out with Taryn cradled close to his heart.

  Mary entered the library, capturing Reed’s attention. “Tell me that man is not biologically related to our daughter.”

  Reed jerked back in her chair, her eyes rounding for an instant as if Mary slapped her. Then she seemed to relax as both of her husband’s hands settled on her shoulders for support. A smile replaced the sudden shock in Reed’s blue-green eyes. Reed’s genuine smile warmed the room with her appreciation for Mary’s not-so-subtle inquiry.

  “Jesse is my adopted son. He came to me when he was fourteen.” Reed swallowed hard and seemed to weigh her words carefully.

  “After the death of his parents.”

  Her smile turned into a grin, making her look younger and naughtier than the elegant woman of the house exterior she presented. “So, no, Jesse is not biologically related to Taryn.”

  Reed sobered a bit when her husband cut in. “Our apologies Mrs. Campbell. It appears Jesse’s desire to find Taryn has caused her to become a target. I can assure you neither he nor any of us want Taryn put at risk.”

  Reed got up, her face flushing with embarrassment. Mary thought that odd until Reed gestured toward the couch. Please, Mrs. Campbell, sit.” Reed’s eyes flashed to Merlin. “Please sit, Mr.?”

  Mary spoke before Merlin could as each of them took a seat across from Reed. “Please call me Mary. And this is Merlin, Taryn’s assistant. He was there this morning when the men attacked and helped fend them off.”

  Reed quickly introduced Jordon and poured two cups of tea, placing them in front of Mary and Merlin. Jordon looked at Merlin, asking, “How did you manage to…ah…fend off Taryn’s attackers?”

  Mary felt Merlin squirm next to her. “Golf balls.” He got out before stuffing an over-sized cookie in his mouth. Jordon raised a brow, but didn’t make any further inquiries. Mary was betting he’d get a full accounting from Jesse just as soon as Taryn was settled wherever it was that Jesse was taking her.

  “What my husband is trying to say is that we are all sorry this has happened to Taryn. None of us would have knowingly put her in danger. If Jesse had known he was putting Taryn in harm’s way he never would have approached her.”

  Mary took a sip of her now tepid tea. She didn’t want anyone misinterpreting what happened this morning and thereby inadvertently putting Taryn at even greater risk. She set her cup down, trying to decide how to tell these incredibly wealthy people that they erroneously made the jump that this was all about them. The truth was much deeper and more complex than that.

  “I very much doubt Jesse had anything to do with what happened to Taryn this morning, besides trying to stop it.”

  A dog barked in the distance, disturbing a group of song birds. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed the hour. A tense silence fell over the room as Mary took a deep breath and tried again.

  “Jesse didn’t put Taryn in danger. All that young man is guilty of is protecting her when I couldn’t. He isn’t to blame for those men attacking Taryn. That dubious honor belongs to my long dead husband and events he set in motion more than a decade ago.”

  Mary fished into her small leather bag and retrieved the small box that was delivered to Taryn this morning by special courier. Taryn had taken it to her office this morning and Mary insisted Merlin retrieve it and Taryn’s messenger bag before to coming here.

  Opening the box, Mary pulled out a shiny length of sterling silver and gold chain dancing with vintage charms. She held it high, the light making it glow. “I believe those men were looking for this.”

  …

  Taryn awoke with a tongue in her ear that made its way up the side of her face. It was rough, gritty even, and emanated the combined scent of beef jerky and parsley. Ick. Batting the thing away she opened her eyes to be greeted by warm, liquid brown eyes full of unconditional love and a lithe sweet face covered with short cream colored fur. If it weren’t for the dog’s breath, her day might have been looking up.

  Wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, Taryn sat up. The dog, curled next to her on a king-sized bed, put a paw on her leg as if to keep Taryn near.

  “You sure are a pretty thing. Too skinny, but the nicest warm blooded creature I’ve seen all day. Maybe I’ll take you with me. Fatten you up a bit.” Taryn said, stroking the animal’s sleek fur from head to rump.

  “Morgan’s a whippet. Whippets don’t ‘fatten up’. It’s not good for their bones.”

  Taryn whipped her head around at the sound of Jesse’s voice and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her head ached like she’d consumed copious amounts of tea laced whisky instead of the other way around. She hadn’t had a hangover in over a decade, and she was pretty sure she
didn’t have one now, but the pounding in her temples was worthy of her worst night of tequila induced regret.

  The sight of Jesse fresh from the shower, towel a shade lighter than his skin resting low on his hips, drops of water running over his well sculpted ‘V’ shaped back made her groan out loud. She didn’t even try to hide her attraction, what was the point? He seemed perfectly content in his skin, and little else, as he traipsed around the room, retrieving various articles of clothing. He had a tattoo of kanji running half the length of his back from high on his right shoulder to below his shoulder blade, and what looked to be some kind of bird peeking out of the towel on his lower left hip.

  Jesse was giving her access to his body in what he must have seen as a non-threatening way, but she was threatened. Not by him, he wasn’t laying on the sexual bravado or sending out waves of I’m-going-to-chain-you-to-my-bed-until-you-don’t-want-to-leave. What threatened Taryn was her desire to run her hand under his towel and explore his bird tattoo with her lips. Worse than that, she wouldn’t stop there once she got started, oh no. She’d run her tongue over the Japanese script, one character at a time as if she could discern its meaning with her mouth and her fingertips.

  “You’re an evil man.” She said, catching his gaze as he turned to face her. The pleased, but almost imperceptible raising of the corners of his mouth, told her he understood and appreciated every lascivious thought running through her head.

  Nonchalantly, he ran both hands through his still wet hair that was beginning to curl even though it was still heavy with water. The move set off his biceps, giving her an unfettered view of every muscle on his torso. He knew what he was doing to her and yet he seemed content to not push her for a response. She’d seen plenty of bare-chested men and enjoyed looking at most, but she’d never run her hands over one quite this beautiful, or harshly masculine.

  Jesse wouldn’t be doing any magazine covers after all, not unless they airbrushed out all of his scars. He had what Taryn recognized as old knife wounds, one about four inches long cutting across his lower left ribs, one cutting diagonally over his left collar bone to just below his heart, part of which bled into another kanji tattoo that was much smaller than the one on his back. He had a pucker scar, no larger than a nickel, on his right pectoral. There were bruises on each side of his rib-cage, some old, some just beginning to turn purplish-blue. There were other small scars peppering his torso like stars in the night sky, testament to a life lived less than gently.

  After she’d looked her fill, Jesse allowed his arms to fall to his sides, his biceps pulsed and his nipples hardened under the heat of her gaze. Taryn closed her eyes.

  “You’re not helping my headache.” She said.

  He grunted and made a sound so self-effacing she almost opened her eyes again. “You’re not helping the ache I’m feeling south of my head. The head I think with anyway.”

  Taryn started to open her eyes, half hoping the towel was still there, half hoping it wasn’t. It was there, and sure enough a certain part of him was not immune to her visual caress.

  “That was coarse.”

  He shook his head. “Coarse? Lady, you’ve no idea just how…er…coarse I’m feeling.”

  She started to get up and a sudden pain shot through her eye socket to the back of her head. She sat back heavily, letting her knees collapse. Morgan, the whippet, cried in empathetic sympathy as she licked the hand Taryn didn’t have cradling her skull.

  “I’d love to drag you back to that shower and have my wicked way with you, but I think I could use some aspirin and a gallon of water first.” Taryn said, only partially joking. Half a gallon of water should do it.

  Jesse disappeared into what Taryn thought was the bathroom and came back with a large glass of water and a small bottle of ibuprofen. When she finished fishing three small orange pills from the bottle and downed half the glass of water, Jesse gently pried each from her clenched hands. Setting them aside on the small table next to what she figured was his bed, Jesse placed one finger under her chin, gently lifting her face.

  Brushing a lock of hair that had fallen over her brow behind her ear, he cupped the back of her head and softly kissed first one temple than the other, careful not to hold her too tightly. He took special care with her bruised temple, which felt like she had a baseball growing out of it. His touch didn’t ease the pain, but it did comfort her. She wanted to melt into this cocoon of safety he was wrapping around her and stay awhile, at least long enough to be transformed into something…something…more.

  His lips were warm and butterfly soft as they moved down her cheek, over the line of her jaw to the side of her neck, just below her ear and back again. Taryn wanted Jesse’s mouth on hers, she wanted to devour him. Instead he sat back, rubbing one thumb across her water moistened bottom lip.

  With a rueful smile that held nothing but poignant regret he said, “I’d like nothing more at this moment than to oblige you and give you everything you desire.” He dropped his forehead to hers gently, avoiding the swollen side of her face, still cupping her nape with one palm. Sighing heavily he said, “Unfortunately, your mother and mine are most likely plotting our future as we sit here. Shay sent me the ‘get here quick’ signal on my cell right before you opened your eyes.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Taryn pushed away from him, scrambled off the bed, willing her head to stop pounding as she flew toward her door.

  She was halfway down the stairs when she heard him utter, “I still want to take you up on that shower…” Whatever else he may have said was lost as she rushed through the unfamiliar house to head off what could only be an impending mother induced disaster.

  One plotting mother was bad enough. How was she ever going to handle two?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jesse caught up with Taryn before she hit the back patio at the big house. The residents of Potter’s Woods were up and enjoying the grounds in full force. Some were fishing in the pond, some gardening. Others were enjoying Tai chi in the meadow and some were engaging in physical therapy outdoors, where the air was crisp instead of humid, and the sky was bright china blue dotted with a precious few clouds.

  Of course the mothers would plot Taryn’s fate on such a perfect day, without her present to put a damper on their plans. Jesse was used to the women in his life steamrolling over everyone and everything they thought would or could or might make his life more difficult. He wasn’t sure that kind of female-force-of-nature was as common for Taryn. He sure hoped his family didn’t scare her away before she got a chance to know them and learned to like them enough to give them a pass on their life-interference tendencies.

  Jesse grabbed Taryn’s arm and swung her around as gently as possible, as she made her way across the patio toward the back door at a near run.

  “Hey, wait a minute. We need to go in there as one.”

  “What do you mean?” She said, panting with the exertion from her run down the path connecting his house to Potter’s Woods.

  She should have been wiped out after everything that had been done and said to her so far today, and yet she’d had the fortitude not to break down into a ball of tears. She even managed to be honest in her desires when most women he knew would have been coy or shown mock indignation. Both of those manufactured responses made him queasy, Jesse much preferred Taryn’s honest need.

  “Whatever is going on in there between your mother and my family, it’s going to go easier for you if you have an ally in the room. I intend to be that ally.” Jesse said, knowing it was true.

  “I don’t need your help.” Taryn pulled her arm away.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Her eyes flashed blue fire at him as they narrowed. Then something in them changed and for the life of him he couldn’t discern what was going through her mind. Her face went from transparent to door slamming ‘we’re closed’ mode so fast he didn’t know what to make of it or her.

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  Because I didn’t jump you whi
le you eye-fucked me. Because I brought you to my house after saving your ass. Because I’m willing to share the woman I love most in the world with you, even if it ultimately means I have to leave the only home I’ve ever known. Take. Your. Pick. Then never ask me that goddamn question again.

  She must have sensed a drop of the ocean of emotion coursing through him, rushing through his ears like a breaking tidal wave because she backed up a step and her eyes lost most of their heat. Still, she didn’t apologize and she didn’t retract her question. He held her gaze a moment longer than necessary, probing. Then he unclenched his jaw, knowing he’d have pain there later.

  “I’m done trying to convince you I’m trustworthy.” Liar. Telling himself to shut-up, he continued. “If I read the tenor of Shay’s message correctly, you may feel very alone in that room. I’m offering to stand by your side and help come up with a plan to keep you from being abducted that makes sense for you. I may be the only one who gives your feelings on the matter of your safety any consideration at all. Trust in that.”

  It seemed to Jesse like a lifetime passed before Taryn inclined her head at him like a royal princess and took his hand in hers. Squaring her shoulders, as she tossed her long golden-blond hair over one shoulder she said, “Okay, Galahad. Let’s go.”

  She’d left off the ‘Sir’ but Jesse didn’t argue the point. He simply led her through the communal family room, kitchen, formal dining room and the foyer, where she grabbed that damned leprechaun stick from Finn’s 1920’s art-deco umbrella stand on their way to the library.