Guardian Angel (3 page)

The medic pulled away the cloth binding and stared at the makeshift poultice with grudging approval.  “Someone knew what they were doing,” he said.

“Don’t look at me,” Kane grunted.  “Some crazy-assed Sister slapped it on me.  Made me chew some nasty shit, too.”

The doc raised his eyebrows.  “Well, that crazy-assed Sister probably saved your life, Callaghan.  Maybe you should say an extra rosary tonight.”

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T
he sun was rising when Kieran and Shane made it back to base.  They looked like shit, covered in dirt and sweat and blood, but at least they were alive and seemed to have all of their parts in working order.  They collapsed onto the cots near Kane.

Kane watched the entrance expectantly, but no one else followed them in.

“What happened?”

Kieran’s arm was draped over his face.  He just shook his head.  It was Shane who answered.  “It was a massacre, man.  Nothing left of the village but smoldering ash.  But at least we got the bastards responsible.”

“The Sisters?”

Shane just shook his head.  Kane felt a block of ice drop into his gut.  “What about the female?”  The one who refused to leave him behind.  The one who went back for the others.

“A clean-up team came in.  She was helping them recover and ID the bodies.”

Something like relief flooded through him.  “She is alive then?”

Shane lifted up his head and regarded him curiously with his uncovered eye.  “Last we knew.”

“Did you get a name?” 

He shook his head.  “No.  But she said to say thanks and give you these.”  Shane reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of Tootsie rolls.

Son of a bitch.

T
hree Months Later, Pine Ridge, Pennsylvania

Kane pushed one arm through the cotton button-down.  “Well?”

It took his brother a few seconds to answer.  Michael crossed the examination room and studied the results from the latest series of strength tests.  “You’re improving.  I think the rehab is going well.”

Kane tugged the other arm through and began to fasten the buttons from the bottom up.  “So I’m good to go then.”  Without even realizing he was doing so, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a Tootsie roll, popping it into his mouth and discarding the wrapper with a careless but accurate toss into the wastebasket.  He’d developed quite a fondness for them, it seemed.

“Kane,” Michael said, his expression grim, “I know what you want me to say, and I can’t.  I’ve done what I can, but you’re lucky you’re even walking.  You take any more damage in that hip and you’re looking at a custom titanium replacement.”

Kane looked at his hands and nodded.  No surprise there; he’d suspected as much.  He’d been stateside for three solid months – a new record for him, at least since turning eighteen and heading out to BUD/S. 

Much of that time had been spent hanging around Pine Ridge, the town his family called home.  Kieran ran the family-owned health club known as BodyWorks, and Kane had been spending most of his days there on the state-of-the-art equipment, working hard to regain his strength and mobility after the shot that nearly shattered his hip joint beyond repair. 

Weekends, though, were for him.  He allowed himself the luxury of spending time alone at his secluded cabin in the mountains.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, but he felt out of place.  Kane was a solitary man by nature, and while he appreciated their efforts to include him, he preferred to spend his time alone. 

Things were different, now, too, because four of his younger brothers were happily married and building families of their own.  Jake had Taryn and their little spitfire Riley; Ian and Lexi had Patrick and another one on the way.  Michael and his wife Maggie had an adorable little bruiser, Ryan.  Sean and his new bride, Nicki, were still in the newlywed phase, and rarely seen.  That left him, Shane, and Kieran.  And of course his widowed father, Jack. 

There weren’t as many missions these days to distract him, either.  Wedded bliss tended to have a dampening effect on their natural urge to seek out and destroy the bad guys.  The bonded males found that they preferred spending their nights in bed with their wives rather than in vermin-ridden fox holes and caves.  Go figure.

Something in Kane’s chest gave a slight lurch at the thought.  He’d never quite understood the desire to settle down with a woman and start a family.  His brothers hadn’t, either, until they found the ones they claimed were their fated mates, their hearts, their
croies
.  They tried to explain the experience of finding the perfect woman, of discovering the one who held the other half of their soul, but it really wasn’t something that could be conveyed through mere words.  It was something you had to feel to comprehend the magnitude, they’d said. 

Kane had heard their words; he had seen the effects of the unions on the men he’d known their whole lives.  He didn’t doubt them, nor did he begrudge them their happiness.  He just knew that he was not cut out for the same fate.  He was different.  He’d always been different.  He was the oldest.  The biggest.  The strongest.  The coldest.  His job was to watch over the others, and to ensure their safety and well-being.  It had always been that way.

But things were changing, and it left him a bit unsettled.  Jake, Ian, Michael, Sean – they had their women now, their own families, ran their own businesses – all under the Callaghan family umbrella, of course.  The umbrella that Kane had carefully constructed over the years, using his exceptional financial and planning skills to ensure the family would never want for anything. 

He applied the same skill and expertise to the missions they undertook.  They all had their parts to play, but there was no question that they looked to Kane as their leader since Jack unofficially retired.  The frequency and severity of the missions had drastically decreased since last year when they almost lost Michael to a sniper’s bullet.  Now Kane reserved the most dangerous missions for himself, Shane, and Kieran, unwilling to be the one to look into the faces of their wives and children should they not return. 

Now, with him out of the action, he was even more selective in the missions they undertook.  Not that Michael would have cleared him anyway, but even if he couldn’t be there with them physically, he could at least make damn sure they had the closest thing to a guarantee he could give them of returning home in one piece.  None of them had more experience than he did. 

It was hard for him to stay behind while his brothers disappeared for days at a time, always coming back with a few more scars, a few more memories they didn’t need.

Damn, he was feeling old.  At thirty-six he felt more like fifty; some days, perhaps eighty would have been more accurate.

Kane was brought back from his musings by Michael’s thoughtful voice.  “To be completely honest, I can’t figure out how the hell you got out of there with your hip shot up like that,” Michael was saying.

A familiar image came to Kane’s mind.  What had it been, a whole five minutes since he last thought of her?  He knew what got him out of the jungle without a body bag.  And the answer was in the form of a five-foot-four inch honey blonde with puppy dog eyes, a core of solid steel, and a penchant for little chocolate candies.

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T
he wind howled loudly outside as the rain pelted against the windows.  Pine Ridge, along with most of the northeast coast, was being battered by the latest in a series of hurricanes, and “Lana” was being anything but merciful.  They were situated well above the river’s flood plain, though others weren’t quite as lucky.  Ian was following the storm and the local help efforts on no less than four screens.  Kane knew Ian was trying to keep himself occupied until his wife, Lexi, returned home from work safely.  Ian, like his other mated brethren, shared a bond with his wife that defied the status quo.  They weren’t two separate people; they were one, in every sense that mattered.

“Anything new?” Kane asked, trying to sound casual as he popped another candy into his mouth and peered over Ian’s shoulder.  It was an almost impossible task, however.  Kane’s voice always sounded deep and powerful, even when he was asking inane questions in an attempt to distract his brother.

His little nephew Patrick toddled up to him and attached himself to Kane’s leg.  Kane automatically extended his long arm, putting a few tiny pieces of soft chocolate candy into his chubby little hand.

“You know, Lexi’s going to kick your ass if she sees you doing that,” Ian chided.

Kane shrugged.  “Only if you do it.  I’m an uncle.  I’m allowed.”

“They’re a choking hazard.”

Kane looked down and gave his two-year old nephew a stern look.  “Chew.  Don’t choke.”

“’K,” the little guy said, nodding soberly.

“Problem solved.”

Ian snorted.  “I can’t wait till you have kids,” he mumbled.

Yeah, like
that
was going to happen.  They didn’t call him the Iceman for nothing.  He’d long since given up on the hope that someone would be willing to put in the effort it would take to get past all that. 

It’s not like he tried to be that way.  He just was.  And most women – with the notable exceptions of his sisters-in-law – found him rather menacing.  Well, except maybe for one little spitfire who looked at him with amused tolerance while he bled all over her, cussed her out and called her names. 

Yeah.  What woman wouldn’t find that enticing?

Ian sat back, stretching his arms above his head.  “Storm’s stalling, not moving on as they predicted.  Another eight inches of rain is expected.  That’s not good, man.  It’s going to be the worst flood this area’s seen in almost fifty years.”

Kane nodded.  The hurricane had been the big news for the last three days.  Seemed like he was watching a hell of a lot of TV these days.  He had one in his cabin, too; he just rarely had the desire to use it.

“But you didn’t want to talk about the weather, did you?”  Ian prompted knowingly.

Kane didn’t respond.  He sat down in the chair next to Ian’s bank of computers and allowed Patrick to climb up onto his lap.  Ian smiled at the picture of his son using Kane as a jungle gym, but Kane shot him a warning glance that had him wiping that smile right off his face and turning back to his screens.  Recovering from an injury or not, Kane could still kick his ass, and Ian knew it.

“Someone knows who she is.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Ian agreed.  Over the past few months they’d tried to locate the woman who’d helped Kane, but with little success.  Even Ian’s wicked digital skills had yielded few results.  They had managed to learn that while the woman did travel with the Sisters of Mercy – she was not a card-carrying member of the Order.  That little tidbit did wonders for assuaging some of Kane’s guilt over the less than pure thoughts he’d had about her. 

Even though he managed to keep a tight lid on most of the conscious ones, his subconscious rebelled and punished him with vivid, intense scenarios during those few hours of sleep he managed to grab once in a while.  It had become routine to wake up stiff and aching – not from his injuries – and feeling worse than ever.

Any recollections of the mystery woman they’d manage to obtain were vague at best.  Since she had not been part of the organization in an official capacity, she was not part of any church or order records. 

“Christ,” Kane muttered in frustration.  “Terrorists aren’t as hard to track down.”

“Terrorists have agendas.  Followers.  Supporters.  Financiers.  They have patterns, leave crumbs.”

Apparently the same did not hold true for humanitarians who piggy-backed on Catholic Relief Services and the International Red Cross. 

“What about the clean-up team?”  Kane knew that Ian had managed to procure the names of those on site that day and had contacted each and every one of them, but hadn’t been able to gain any useful information.  As a matter of course, the clean-up teams and the IRC often crossed paths, and Ian’s contacts had assured him that they would let him know if they came across her again.  Ian had been cross referencing the databases, looking for match-ups, but so far, had no solid leads.

Ian shook his head.  “Nothing new.  They’ve had their hands full with all the crap going on over there.  Best they can figure, she was trucked out with some of the relief workers.” 

Kane’s expression didn’t change; he kept his frustration and disappointment under lockdown.  Trying to get anything out of the bureaucrats at the Red Cross was next to impossible without a name; all they had to go on was a vague notion that she had been a part of the organization at one time. 

“We’ll find her, Kane.  You know I can’t walk away from a challenge.”

At that moment Lexi came in looking weary, but her eyes lit up at the sight of her husband.  With a little assistance from his uncle, Patrick stood on Kane’s knees and squealed as he held his hands up to her, laughing hysterically when she nuzzled his neck.  “Mmmm,” she said, shooting an accusing glance at Kane, “somebody smells like chocolate.”

Ian shot Kane an “I told you so” look, before rising to take his wife in his arms.  “Hey, if I smell like chocolate, will you nuzzle me like that, too?”

“Without question.  A little whipped cream wouldn’t hurt, either,” she teased.  Ian groaned audibly. 

Lexi laughed.  “Hey, did Aidan’s sister make it in?” Ian asked.

“Rebecca?  No,” she said, shaking her head and frowning.  “And Aidan was an absolute bear today.  The local airport closed due to the weather conditions.  Last he heard she made it as far as Philly but was having trouble making arrangements from there.  He’s been trying to get hold of her all day, but no luck.  She has an aversion to cell phones, apparently.  It’s driving Aidan nuts.”

“They’re closing all the roads south of here; the river’s a mess.”

“I know,” Lexi said, biting her lip.  “They’ve already started setting up a shelter for people in the flood zones.  Aidan’s got the Goddess staff packing up food and water and taking it down there.”

Ian nodded.  “Mick’s on his way down there now.  Dad’s going to watch the Pub while we go down to help.  Maggie called, said she’d like you to come by with Patrick and help her with the kids at her place.  I’ve got a bag already packed.”