Kane’s hands stilled about midway as he brought the cup up to his mouth. He glanced over at Aidan. At the honey-bronze hair. At the brown and gold eyes. Son of a bitch. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Without another word, he set the cup down, sandwich forgotten, and made his way toward the gym.
It didn’t take long to spot her. There she was, moving – no, gliding - through the throngs of the wet, bedraggled masses, looking like a vision. Yes, her jeans were muddy and torn and splattered with God knew what. Her tunic was wrinkled and just as stained. Her hair rebelled against the forced incarceration of the thick brown clip, cascading around her face and past her shoulders. She was thinner than he remembered, but still decadently lush. Her eyes were shining. Her skin was pleasantly flushed and pink. And her smiles came easily and often.
Kane swallowed and closed his eyes. The din of the masses retreated into the background. He focused on her until he could hear her voice, a gentle, soothing hum, cutting through the anxiety and despair, offering comfort, direction, and encouragement. He knew that voice, had experienced the quiet power of it; he’d heard it speaking to him in his dreams for the last three months. He opened his eyes, his ears now attuned to her voice, so he could track her movements as well.
From a distance, he watched as she calmed children and adults alike, tending to their minor injuries or directing them elsewhere – to Michael, to the cafeteria, to the communications center they’d set up to contact worried loved ones – based on their needs. Sometimes all they needed was someone to listen. With a caring nod, a few encouraging words, and a soft touch – God, he remembered that touch – she worked her magic.
She had a way with people, no doubt, even those he knew for a fact were not overly likable. But her very presence was soothing – he could personally attest to that – and people responded to that. She provided compassion and strength at a time when it was sorely needed.
When she wasn’t tending injuries or directing people, she was unpacking or organizing supplies. He ignored the undeniable pull for as long as he could, but when she disappeared into the back for more than a few minutes he could not stop himself from following her.
He found her at the end of a long hallway, sitting in a window well, looking out over the Commons. She had traded her tunic for a sweatshirt several sizes too large for her, but at least it was warm and dry. Kane recognized the distinctive blue color of the shirt, knew that on the front, above the left breast it featured a frothy mug of beer surrounded by a chain of Celtic knots and the moniker Jake’s Irish Pub. It was one of his brother’s, no doubt. He bit back the growl that he felt rumbling up in the back of his throat, surprised by it.
Her back was to him, her head bowed as she leaned against the wall. He walked silently, some unforeseen force drawing him toward her, stopping just a foot or two from the well.
When she finally sensed his presence, he saw her back straighten, heard the slightest of sniffles. Without thinking – he really wasn’t quite sure what made him do it - he reached into his pocket and extended his hand in offering.
Rebecca noticed his hand first and the three Tootsie-rolls held in his open palm. Her gaze travelled the length of his arm, up his shoulder, and to his face. He knew he looked different than the last time she had seen him; he hadn’t shaved for several days, and his hair was longer and unkempt. But when she looked in his eyes, recognition dawned.
Her eyes widened; her mouth fell open. “Kane? Oh my God! Kane? Is it really you?” She quickly rotated around to face him.
He nodded, unable to completely suppress the grin that tugged at his lips. At least until she rose up on the ledge and wrapped her arms solidly around his neck. It caught him off-guard. As a general rule, people did not hug him. Taryn was an exception. He immediately tensed at the feel of her much softer, much warmer body against his. It was something he had refused to think about all this time, and for damn good reason. It felt way too good.
* * *
Rebecca sensed his discomfort. Even without her ability to read people it was impossible to miss the hiss accompanying his sharp intake of breath or the way his body seemed to instantly become solid marble. His arms remained frozen at his sides; he made no attempt to return her embrace. A wave of embarrassment washed through her, coloring her pale cheeks with a lovely blush, but she recovered rather quickly.
“I have often wondered about you,” she told him. Regaining some of her poise, she retreated as far away from him as the little space would allow, and sat down again. She was careful to tuck the unfettered joy and surprise at seeing him again away beneath half-lidded, guarded eyes.
The position forced her to look up at him to see his face, but he seemed more comfortable this way, without her attaching herself to him, that is. Kane would always be more at ease in the dominant position, she realized with sudden clarity. And she found the desire to submit to him oddly natural, though she rarely submitted to anyone or anything. She crossed her legs and scooched back up against the window to give him some more space, another thing that she instinctively knew he needed a lot of.
“Have you?” he asked, looking even bigger than she remembered. Kane’s voice was deep and resonant in the otherwise empty corridor. It still held the seemingly infinite power, tugging at something deep in her core as no other voice had. She let it rumble through her, but was careful not to let him see how much she enjoyed it. She had a feeling it would piss him off, and she had no desire to do that, not after unexpectedly finding him again.
“Yes.” She reached out and plucked one of the candies from his hand. “These aren’t the same ones from the jungle, are they?” she asked. “Because if they are, I have to tell you... ew.” Without waiting for an answer, she unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth anyway.
“No,” he assured her, his lips twitching slightly. Those hypnotic blue eyes hadn’t wavered in their gaze once. It warmed parts of her that had absolutely no business being warmed. She cleared her throat self-consciously.
“So what are you doing here?” She rolled the candy around in her mouth, letting her eyes trail down, over the impossibly broad shoulders and chest, along the natural V toward his trim waist and hips. In jungle camo he’d been hot. In faded Levi’s and a white thermal that hugged his muscular form he was a god. The masculine scruff along his jawline and the shaggy black mane gave him a wild look that had her heart beating fast and furious.
“Believe it or not, this is my home town.”
A grin tugged at her lips as she made the connection. “Michael’s your brother, isn’t he?”
Kane nodded, his expression implacable once again. She should have known; the resemblance was there. Michael had the same dark hair, though considerably shorter than Kane’s was now. The same piercing blue eyes. Kane was quite a bit larger, but they had the same basic features, the same body structure.
“No wonder he looked so familiar.” She thought back to the two that had helped her at the village. He had called them his brothers as well.
“And... Shane... and...Kieran. Just how many of you are there?”
“Seven.”
Lord, have mercy. Seven men that looked like this? It was a wonder this little town wasn’t listed as a top-ten vacation destination among females.
“You’re the oldest.” She knew it with certainty. Just as she knew he was the biggest. The strongest. The fiercest. With the fluorescent light behind him, a nimbus appeared around his blue-black hair. An archangel, that’s what he was, she thought, remembering her first impression of him. Now that some of the shock of seeing him again had worn off, she could see that her savior was not an archangel at all, but a grumpy, gorgeous, bear of a man with obvious control issues. That, she could handle. She certainly had enough experience.
“I am.”
The power around him intensified, and Rebecca felt the pull somewhere deep in her center. That strange humming tingle – the one she had attributed to the fear and adrenalin of that night in the forest – resurfaced, even more powerfu
l than it was before.
Except this time she couldn’t blame it on the situation or the heat of the moment. There were no distractions. Just Kane and her, a scant foot or two separating them, in no immediate mortal peril and not another soul in sight.
Right, she thought, tucking her hands beneath her thighs so that she didn’t accidentally reach out to him again without thinking. Time to change the subject. “So. How’s the hip?”
* * *
“It’s good.” Kane tried to keep his voice level while the shock of her unexpected full-frontal assault began to wane. Because after three months of searching for her, finding her where he least expected - right here in his own backyard, he was having trouble adjusting. He held himself in check, resisting the powerful and totally irrational urge to reach out and drag her closer to him again. This way was much safer. For both of them. Because now that his body had a chance to fully process what had occurred, it craved more.
Kane felt her gaze, felt her approval as she reconciled the figure before her with the man from the jungle. It was a bit of a surprise to him; he would have expected her to be more afraid than she seemed to be. Then again, nothing about this woman should have surprised him. Everything was unexpected with her.
And apparently location had nothing to do with it.
He felt his blood pressure rising. It happened whenever he thought about that night in the jungle. It wasn’t so much that he came so close to death; that had happened more times than he could count. He knew the risks he took every time he went on a mission, and made sure he made his peace beforehand.
Most soldiers did. But she wasn’t a soldier. The fact that she almost died to save him was something he hadn’t been able to comprehend. Nor had he been able to accept that she took that pretty little ass back into danger while he was carted off to the base. If anything would have happened to her...
He couldn’t even complete that thought. It made the blood boil with irrational rage in his veins.
No matter what she had done for him, or why she had felt compelled to do so, it had been poor judgment on her part. And now, here she was again, in the midst of a natural disaster. Oh, she was safe enough now, but he’d been hearing and seeing the horror stories for himself all night. She must have risked life and limb to get here when she did. And, though she was still quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the signs of the traumatic circumstances were obvious in the weariness of her delicate features, the dark circles under her eyes, the dirt and grime from too many hours without rest or a shower. It made a dark rage burn within him.
“Well,” she said after a few moments hung in awkward silence. He stared at her, allowing the intensity to build around him like a thunderstorm until she squirmed beneath his gaze. “I’m glad things worked out for you.”
“Yeah.” His voice was rougher than it had been only a minute ago, a direct result of the path his thoughts had taken him. “Let me ask you something. Do you have a death wish?”
Her eyes lost some of their shimmer then; her smile faltered. “I think I should get back now.”
She blew out a breath, and extended her feet toward the ledge of the window sill, clearly expecting him to get out of her way. He didn’t.
“Where are your shoes?” he asked, looking down at the tiny feet as if he’d never seen anything like them before. She’d been barefoot in the jungle, too. He’d forgotten that little fact, but it came back to him now, clear as day.
She shrugged and scooched forward a little more. He refused to budge.
She’d given her shoes to someone. He knew it. She’d had shoes on when he first saw her out in the gym. Little black things that looked like ballet shoes. Judging by the size of her feet, she’d probably given them to a child. Christ. Was she ever not doing something for someone else? Who was looking out for her?
“Have you eaten?” He switched topics without blinking. The question was gruff, his voice more like a growl each time he spoke.
“I’ve got to get back,” she repeated, ignoring his questions. She slid past him when he refused to move, brushing slightly against him in the process, though he could tell she tried very hard not to. Without physically restraining her – and the thought did cross his mind – there was nothing he could do but let her go.
“What is that?” he asked. Before he could help himself his arm shot out, barring her escape. His head dipped down and he caught the faint scent, the same scent he’d smelled that night three months earlier and had been unable to identify. Underneath everything else it was a light, soft fragrance. Clean. Simple. Fresh. It was unexpected, both in the jungle and in the makeshift shelter for hurricane and flood victims. Whatever it was, it clung to her skin, not to her clothing.
* * *
Well, this wasn’t going at all like it did in her late night fantasies. He didn’t pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately, or make slow, divine love to her in life-affirming gratitude. She chanced a glance at him again, saw the hard expression on his face, and something else - anger, maybe? He glared at her as if she was some kind of species he couldn’t yet identify.
Yeah, that was good for the ego. She might be a little green on the whole flirting thing, but she was pretty sure this wasn’t a good sign. Something about her obviously pissed him off, just like it had in the jungle. Except here, they were not alone and neither of them was in mortal danger. And while they might be on the tail end of a hurricane, there were no bullets raining down on them. It must have been just her, then, that riled him so much.
“Excuse me?” she finally managed. His eyes were doing that glowing thing again, his expression hard and feral. It unnerved her. She got the distinct impression he was angry with her for some reason, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that might be.
Whatever it was, it probably shouldn’t have sent those rolling waves of heat through her like it did, but she was powerless to stop it.
“Your perfume. What is it?”
She bit her lip uncertainly. “I don’t wear perfume,” she answered honestly.
He sniffed again, sending a series of erotic shivers down her spine. “Soap, then. What kind of soap do you use?”
She drew in a shaky breath, hoping he didn’t notice. His nearness was making her weak in the knees. “Dove.”
“Dove,” he repeated, as if committing it to memory.
“Mm-hm.” It was her one staple, the one thing she refused to give up under any circumstances. She had traded food, shoes, clothing, water – even her coveted Tootsie rolls – to ensure she always had a bar with her at all times. The simple item kept her anchored to her humanity when it seemed like all else had been lost. The moment she found herself in civilization, she’d bought herself a dozen bars of Dove and the biggest bag of Tootsie Rolls she could find. The woman at the checkout no doubt thought she was a little strange, but Rebecca didn’t care.
He nodded as if satisfied, closing his eyes briefly and pulling away, letting his arm move slowly back to his side. She wondered what he would think of her little obsession, or if he sensed just how close she was to coming undone in that moment. Either way, she couldn’t linger another second without him finding out.
Just like in the jungle, she felt the need to flee. His pull was too strong, and once she surrendered to it, there would be no turning back. Never mind the fact that he had no idea what he was doing to her, or her knowledge that he would be appalled by her complete lack of self-control. His response to her brief, impulsive hug earlier had made that clear enough.
Whatever she had thought she might have felt – namely barely irrepressible joy at seeing him again, he obviously didn’t feel the same way. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself as the sudden chill overtook her.
“It was nice to see you again, Kane.”
She forced her feet to move, feeling his eyes following her down the length of the corridor until the door swung closed behind her.
Chapter Four
“She needs a br
eak,” Kane told Michael. Michael, in the process of setting the arm of an older woman who slipped in the muddy flood waters around her house, glanced at him questioningly.
“Who?”
“Rebecca.”
“Aidan’s sister?” Clearly word travelled fast.
Features set, blue eyes like ice, Kane nodded. “Make her sit down and eat something.”
“I suggested she do that hours ago,” Michael replied.
“And?”
“And what?” Michael patted the woman’s arm as she looked back and forth between the two men, clearly sensing a bit of gossip. “You’re all done, Mrs. Chandler,” Michael told her, gently nudging her toward the door. “Keep that elevated for a few hours and take some ibuprofen if it’s bothering you.”
He waited until the woman was out of earshot before speaking again.
“You seem to be under the false impression I have some control over what she does,” Michael said with a twinkle in his eye. He’d never seen Kane take an interest in anybody before.
“She’s working for you,” Kane said, crossing his massive arms over his massive chest and taking up most of the available space in the already-cramped room. To anyone else, he would have appeared more than a little imposing. Michael, like the rest of his brothers, was used to it. It was just the way Kane was. Massive. Immovable. Unwavering. Like a glacier, he would move slowly, deliberately, and in his own good time.
“She’s volunteering,” Michael corrected. “Completely of her own volition. If you’re so concerned, why don’t you do something about it?”
Kane’s jaw clenched; his muscles flexed involuntarily beneath his damp clothes. It was so out of character for Kane to be concerned over someone he never met that Michael had to take pause. Kane never did anything without reason.
“What concern is she to you anyway?”
Kane hit him with the full power of the distinctive Callaghan eyes. They all had them, but like everything else they shared, Kane’s seemed larger, more potent than anyone else’s. “She’s the woman from the jungle.”
Guardian Angel: Callaghan Brothers, Book 5 Page 4