by Dee, Bonnie
“So it’s San Francisco, then?” Brenna asked, her voice all business.
Donovan shifted his attention back to her, and was struck once again by not only her beauty, but by the air of confidence she wore like a crown. “Yeah, at least for starters. I’ve got a nine o’clock flight out of Logan. Point me to a phone and I’ll get you on it.”
“Ah, small problem. I don’t fly.” Her voice was one tone shy of being embarrassed, but her gaze was straightforward, unflinching.
“Pardon?”
“She’s afraid to fly, numbnuts.”
Donovan held his patience in check. Barely. Tommy obviously didn’t like him much. The feeling was definitely becoming mutual.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Terry broke in. “All flights out of Logan are cancelled due to the weather.”
“Fine. I’ll get a rental car.” At this point, Donovan would hire a damned rickshaw to shut Tommy up.
“We can take my truck,” Brenna offered, extending an olive branch while she shot a dirty look at her brother.
“No, he knows what it looks like, or at least someone does. Actually,” he mused, “road travel is probably better. It’ll give us time to figure out how to read the Sorhineth and your book.” He waved a hand at the slim tome sitting in front of Brenna. “If this Destroyer knows I was coming here, we’ll probably need that knowledge when we get to San Francisco.”
“I guess that rules out me going back to my place for my stuff.” Brenna’s tone was rueful.
Donovan thought fast. “Unfortunately, yes. We’ll pick up some things for both of us on the road.”
“Tonight? I was hoping you could at least stay for dinner.” Maggie’s voice was plaintive, and Donovan guessed she wanted another night with her daughter.
“They can’t.” Terry’s words rung with conviction.
“Why the fuck not?”
Yeah, Tommy was definitely the hothead of the family.
“Tommy, watch your language.”
“Because they know who she is, and by extension, us as well. They need to leave now, and so do we. Brenna was headed this way, and if they could find her at home, the library isn’t much of a stretch, nor our homes.”
Shit. Donovan hadn’t thought of that. It had been enough to get away, to set his plan in motion. It had felt so good to do something that mattered again, he hadn’t taken the time to plan. Instead, he’d simply acted, and in doing so, could very well have led a Destroyer straight to the Sorhineth. The lack of attention to detail galled him; he’d spent too many years pampering celebrities who didn’t really need security, but felt they deserved it as a perk.
“Damn, boy, you’re right. Call your families and have them pack a few things. We’ll head up the coast to the cabin. No one’s going to find us unless they plan on skiing in.” Michael Kennedy wasn’t one to waste action either, apparently. “There’s no need to rent a car, you can take the Jag. It’s registered to the firm, so tracing it would be more trouble than our Destroyer is likely to make. Plus, it’s more than heavy enough to make it through the snow.” He dug in a pocket and tossed the keys on the table.
“Sir, while I appreciate the gesture, I can afford to rent a car.” Donovan forced his voice to remain respectful, even as he resented the control being wrested from him.
Michael pushed away from the table and stood, followed by the rest of his family. “But you can’t afford the time, son, none of us can. You’ll have your mobile phone, Brenna?”
Donovan rose to his feet as well, a bit bemused by the quick turn of events. In retrospect, this meeting would probably be amusing, given the fact he’d totally lost control of it, but right now his own sloppiness was pissing him off.
“Yeah, Dad, I’ll transfer it over from my truck.” Brenna walked around the table and gave her parents, then her brothers a hug. The family began to file out of the room. All except for Tommy. He stood in the doorway, filling it.
“I meant what I said before, Callahan. You fuck this up and I’m coming after you. Then I’ll let the rest of the boys have a turn.” His voice with rough with possession and something else, maybe a hint of jealousy because Donovan was taking care of something he couldn’t.
So Donovan answered in kind, letting Brenna’s brother know exactly where they stood. “Not that it’ll happen, but I might just enjoy that.”
“I don’t give a shit what you are, Terran. You bleed just as easily as the rest of us.” He turned and left, leaving Donovan and Brenna alone.
“Sorry. He gets overprotective.” Brenna turned to the wall of books and pulled out a small, unremarkable tome. Setting it on the table, she rooted behind where it had been placed and removed a much larger book, its cover worn smooth by the passage of time and loving hands. The red leather cover almost glowed under the institutional lighting, giving the impression it lived and breathed. Power seethed for a moment, expanding throughout the room before flashing back into the book as if it never was.
“Holy crap. It’s never done anything like that before.” Brenna’s voice was awestruck—and something else Donovan couldn’t put his finger on.
She gathered it to her chest as if protecting it and turned to face him. Tears winked briefly in her eyes, then were blinked back.
“Brenna…” Her expression cut something loose inside him, had him stepping forward to comfort, to offer reassurances … about what he had no idea. Protection was about physically securing the client, not seeing to their emotional needs.
She swung out of reach, giving him her back as she scooped up her enormous purse. “No worries, Callahan. It just snuck up on me for a sec. C’mon, let’s hit the road.”
* * * *
And so they did just that. Brenna dumped the mobile phone case in the back seat and slid behind the wheel of the Jag, inhaling the rich smell of leather and old money. That entitlement had been her legacy, her normalcy, since she was born, as much as the title of Warden. The engine turned over noiselessly and she pulled out of the parking garage.
Fast. This was all happening so freakin’ fast it made her head spin. She wasn’t remotely prepared for this, but knew what she was doing was right. It felt right. Even if Donovan Callahan made her body do a quick rumba.
The man in question shifted in the seat, and the clean, spicy scent of him wafted through the close air of the car. It set her senses on fire as her mind rebelled. “Can I borrow your mobile? I need to let my people know of the change in plans.”
She gulped, then answered quickly. “Sure. The bag’s on the back seat.”
She watched him gingerly root around in the big bag and grinned, though the action was a complete contradiction to what was going on around them. What was it about men and purses? While the carryall wasn’t a purse, he was sure acting like it was.
He finally found it and punched in a number, then held it to his ear. The enormous phone looked almost small in his huge hand.
For all his dark coloring, his eyes were amazingly light, almost topaz. And that voice, holy cow. Gravelly and tough, even when he was being polite, as he had with her parents. With Tommy, though, he’d been totally in control, and more than a match for her hotheaded bro.
The tone of his voice now brought her out of her musings.
“Where’s Jenalee, dammit!” She could hear a tinny reply, but couldn’t make out the words.
“Don’t give me that shit, Mark. Tell me and tell me now.” A pause, then, “Oh, Jesus.” He dropped his forehead into his palm. “No, I’m driving back. Long story. I’ll be there within the week, depending on road conditions. Listen, I know you weren’t a hundred percent behind this whole search, but it’s obviously put a bug up someone’s ass. Jenalee was the only Terran who knew exactly where I was going, and the Warden’s place here got turned upside down as well. There’s no doubt it’s a Destroyer; he left a message on the wall above her bed. Watch your step, and don’t tell anyone what Julian found at Jenalee’s, all right? Just tell everyone she’s sick and went down to her place in Mexico
to recoup. Tell them I’m with her. And call me at this number if you hear anything.”
He gave the number, disconnected, then swore as he raised his head, a long colorful string of Gaelic curse words Brenna had heard coming from her father, but never dared ask the meaning of.
“What’s wrong?” He didn’t look good. Not good at all. Coming from a man as decidedly alpha as Donovan Callahan, it was more than a little unsettling. It also blew her preconceived notions about them not giving a shit completely to hell.
“I think I know how the Destroyer found you.”
“Come again?” That was certainly not the response she’d expected.
“My best friend, the one who sent me to you, disappeared, and it sounds like her place was just as trashed as yours.”
“And they have no idea where she is?” While Brenna found it odd a man as virile as Callahan would have a woman as a “best friend,” something else in his conversation had caught her ear.
“No.” His reply was curt.
Then it jelled in her mind. San Francisco. Jenalee.
“Not the Jenalee? She’s Terran?” Brenna pictured the woman’s face, beautiful and ethereal, remembered her as she’d seen her on TV earlier this year, belting out an award-winning song at the Grammy’s.
“Yeah. And now the Jenalee is missing. Not that we’ll get any help from KOTE—they don’t care about anything but the bottom line.”
“It sounds like this KOTE of yours needs to be kicked in the ass. They should be out looking for her.” As soon as the words were out she wished them back. She didn’t know enough about KOTE or Donovan Callahan to make such brash statements.
“But they won’t. They never do anything.” His anger was palpable, and easier to take than his well-hidden concern had been.
“How did Jenalee know where I was?”
“I told you earlier. Jenalee travels in higher social circles than I do, with Winthrop and the mucky-mucks. I don’t screw around with politics.”
His voice was flat, deadly calm, and she knew with utter certainty he was telling the truth. Donovan Callahan didn’t play well with others, at least when they had an agenda he thought was bullshit. That heartened her, if nothing else, because she could understand it. And when he continued, it was in the same tone.
“She’s probably always known where you were, but didn’t give it to me until she thought I couldn’t take any more. She was right.”
Interesting, but even more so was this sudden insight into his personality. This guy was exactly the opposite of what she’d been led to believe would appear on her doorstep someday. She wondered if he was as accomplished an actor as his “best friend.” “So who did you talk to just now?”
“Mark Winbolt, my second-in-command. He’s the primary while I’m gone.”
“So that’s something, right? I’m assuming you only hire the best.”
“Yeah, but I should be there.”
“And instead you’re stuck here with me because I’m afraid to fly and Logan is snowed in.”
He twisted in the seat, his face stark in the greenish lights of the dashboard. “Don’t even think that. You certainly can’t control the weather, and your fear of flying wouldn’t have mattered, considering Mother Nature.”
Brenna took a moment to consider the dichotomy of his statement. Donovan Callahan was alpha as hell, but didn’t hesitate to say when he didn’t know something and exhibited a concern for his friend she found … reassuring. Yeah, he rang all her bells all right, and in more than a physical way as each word dropped from his mouth.
They were on the interstate now, and Brenna gunned the accelerator. Full winter darkness had fallen and the roads were mostly clear on this side of town.
Donovan leaned back against the headrest, and Brenna could see the lines of fatigue bracketing his mouth and eyes. He probably thought they were hidden by the darkness.
“I know this is probably late to ask, but do you know the fastest way to San Francisco? You heard what I told Mark about our timeline, but I’d like to be there as soon as possible.”
Brenna’s lips curved into a smile. “No, but there’s an atlas in the glove box. We’ll figure it out after we get out of Boston. How long have you been up, anyway?”
“Since about four this morning, Pacific time.”
“Rest for a bit. I’ll wake you up when I need a break.”
“I couldn’t sleep. Too much going on in my head.”
“Try. If we’re going to make a speed run to California, you’ll need to be rested to take over the driving. Go ahead, just close your eyes.”
He did, and within five minutes was fast asleep.
Brenna glanced at him, and suppressed a wince. How could her body so totally react to this Terran when her conscious mind found his kind so abhorrent? Even if his words and actions had redeemed his people marginally, he was still Terran, still part of a race that had turned self-interest into a badge of pride. His own words confirmed that.
So why could she so easily picture herself twined in his arms, fucking in positions she’d only read about? Just the thought of it quickened her breathing, made her pussy clench with sudden, flaming desire. Callahan’s scent curled around her, and suddenly she wasn’t just thinking about his embrace, she felt it, even though he was still slumped against the seat, asleep.
Brenna shook her head to clear the image. She needed to concentrate on the road, not the disturbingly sexy man lying almost comatose beside her.
But as much as she tried to ignore it, her skin tingled and burned as if his fingers were inscribing playful, passionate circles. She barely fought off a groan of pure ecstasy when that warmth moved to her breasts, bringing her nipples to hard, aching peaks, then moved leisurely to her clit and then her pussy. What was happening to her? This was much more vivid than her usually imaginative fantasies … disturbingly so.
She pulled the car to the side of the turnpike and rolled down the window, letting the frigid air and the occasional snowflake cool her overheated body and mind.
And when she felt almost normal again, she pulled back onto the road while Callahan slept, completely oblivious to what he’d done to her.
Chapter Three
Donovan ran his hand down Brenna’s gloriously smooth bare back, fingers coasting over the delicate curve of her spine, cupping the smooth, perfect weight of her ass. She moaned and pressed high, proud breasts against his chest, nipples peaked, chafing him in the most delicious way…
“Donovan, wake up.”
He looked up into her face, those strong, sensual lips forming incomprehensible words.
Wake up?
“Callahan, dammit, I’m tired.” Now she was shaking his shoulder, but strangely the arm doing the shaking was clothed. He fully woke as his head bounced against the leather headrest.
“Right. Up, I’m up.” He levered in the seat, blinking against the faint glow of the rising sun on the horizon. “You drove all night?”
She rubbed her eyes, leaned back in the seat and stretched. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep, and you looked like you needed it.”
“Where are we?” Donovan tried not to look at the swell of her breasts against her shirt, really, he did. Never mind the fact he’d just dreamt them naked and fabulous against him. A tiny bit of chivalry still ran though his veins, but the basic, animistic male threatened to beat the microscopic spark to smithereens.
“Just outside of Columbus.”
Her weary statement yanked his attention right back where it needed to be. “Ohio? Shit, Brenna, what time is it?”
“Around six, Eastern time. Not sure what time zone we’re in now, though. I pulled out the map a few hours ago. From what I know of California, we have to go south, through the Tehachapis, right? I remember seeing something on TV saying the northern passes were nasty this time of year.”
“Uh, yeah. That’d probably be our best bet.”
“So we can make St. Louis by this afternoon, Oklahoma City by late tonight, and then we probably need t
o grab a room for at least a few hours.”
“You’ve got this all figured out.” Even with his brain still fuzzy from sleep, Donovan didn’t quite know how to feel about his little admission. He was the Protector, the guardian, the muscle. He did the strategizing, the planning, the fighting. While he’d never subscribed to the “keep the little woman barefoot and pregnant” school, it bothered him that he didn’t feel more uptight about her taking control. Hell, he’d even slept the night through, something he’d never have done in the past with an unknown factor behind the wheel. Granted, she was a Warden, but she was also a frail human woman. And trusting his security to her had come all too easily. It was strange and more than a little unnerving.
He had no problem relating to her femininity, though, he thought as he surreptitiously shifted his morning erection to a more comfortable spot.
To get back to San Francisco—with the Sorhineth and his Warden intact—he needed to slug down some coffee and get back on the road.
He looked out the window and saw they were parked in a convenience store lot. “Let me get some coffee, gas this beast up, and we’re St. Louis bound.”
“I’ll gas it up if you’ll grab me one of those scary nuked breakfast sandwiches.”
“No, I can do it.” He could, at least, be a gentleman. Chivalry and all that. “Tell you what, get me the biggest cup of coffee you can find and grab something for yourself more nutritious than a glowing sandwich.” He rooted around in his suit jacket and pulled a wad of bills out of his wallet. “I want to use green as much as possible. How did you gas up before?”
“Cash, but I’m tapped now. Why bother? The Destroyer has to know we’re headed west.”
“Yeah, maybe. But no one except Mark and your family know exactly where we are, and I’d like to keep it that way for now, at least until we get a better idea of what the Sorhineth says and can put together some kind of plan. A day or two of downtime in San Francisco would be nice.”