Guardian Angel (6 page)

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.

“S
he needs a break,” 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 Namibia.”

It took a moment for Kane’s words to completely register.  His eyes widened in disbelief.  “The one Ian’s been looking for all this time?  No shit?”

“No shit,” Kane confirmed.

“Jesus.”  Michael leaned back against the counter, stunned.  “Are you sure?” 

Kane shot him an irritated glance that told him he should have known better.  Kane wouldn’t have wasted his breath otherwise.

It just seemed so... convenient.  Given the strange events he’d been privy to over the last few years, it shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was, but Michael couldn’t help but marvel at the raw wonder of it.  First Jake, then Ian, then him, then Sean.  Each had met his destined soul mate through some bizarre twist of events that defied rational logic.  Was Kane to be next in the line of Callaghan men to meet their ultimate challenge?  It was a delightful thought.

“So let me get this straight,” Michael said, clearing his throat and trying to keep a straight face.  “Aidan’s sister saves your ass in Namibia, then winds up here in your hometown during a natural disaster.”  He let the grin grow slowly.  “Sounds like Fate, bro.”

A low, rumbling sound came from deep within Kane’s chest, obviously meant as a warning, but it only succeeded in making Michael laugh.  Kane narrowed his eyes, causing Michael to laugh even harder.  The old adage really was turning out to be true:  the bigger they were, the harder they fell.  And Kane was looking at about a mile-high drop without a backup chute. 

With a withering glance, Kane turned and stalked out of the room.  Michael’s laughter echoed the entire length of the hallway.

* * *

I
t was so busy for the next several hours that Rebecca didn’t have time to dwell on the large man with the stark features and the hauntingly beautiful eyes.  She did not have time to think about how absolutely solid he’d felt when she’d thrown herself against him.  Nor did she have even a second to feel the rush of embarrassment over his reaction or the subsequent anger that radiated from him in waves, but over what, she had no idea. 

And there was no way she would ever admit – not even to herself – the tingling warmth of electrical current that ran throughout the length of her body when he leaned in close and inhaled.  If the subject ever came up she would claim some sort of delayed post-traumatic stress reaction brought forth by his sudden and unexpected reappearance, and coming off a triple shift of triage after going on nearly thirty-six hours without sleep. 

Yeah, that would definitely work.

* * *

O
ne thing about being a natural tracker – Kane learned how to observe without being observed.  Over the next few days Kane did exactly that.  He watched Rebecca from a distance, though in actuality he was never far away.  Especially when whatever she was doing placed her in the vicinity of other men. 

He wasn’t being territorial, he told himself.  He was doing what he did best – assessing a situation, analyzing strengths and weaknesses, and then doing what needed to be done.  It wasn’t stalking.  He was just looking out for her from afar. 

Because Lord knows she didn’t seem all that likely to do it herself, and no one – with the possible exception of her brother – was stepping up to the plate.

Kane learned a lot about her that way.  He learned that while she always had a friendly smile and an encouraging word, she was basically a very quiet person, and tended to listen a lot more than she spoke.  She also possessed great skills in the art of distraction; whenever anyone started asking her personal questions, she deftly managed to turn the conversation back to the other person.  It was something he could understand quite well, though he was more likely to simply ignore people than divert their attention elsewhere.  He simply didn’t care enough to put forth the effort.

There also didn’t seem to be any job she wouldn’t do.  She helped Michael.  Served food.  Unpacked and sorted clothing donations.  Cleaned toilets.  And not once, in any of that time, did he hear her complain, whine, moan, bitch, or, for that matter, sigh heavily. 

Her clothing was simple:  jeans and comfortable, cotton tops.  She’d taken to wearing soft, casual hoodies as well, especially when evening came and the temperature dipped into the seventies;  he’d overheard Michael comment that she was having a little trouble adjusting to the climate after spending so much time in much hotter countries.

She wore very little, if any, makeup, but Kane saw that as a plus.  She had a natural beauty, and cosmetics would have only tampered with that.  For the most part, she kept her hair secured, but sometimes, when she thought she was alone, she’d release the clips and let her hair tumble down over her shoulders, shaking it free and running her fingers through it.  It was during those moments that Kane sometimes felt a pang of longing; whether the feeling was hers or his he wasn’t sure, but it never lasted long enough to analyze.  After a few quick finger combs, it would inevitably be up again. 

The only jewelry he saw was a small silver cross that she usually kept tucked into her shirt, but it sometimes managed to work free when she was doing a lot of bending and lifting.  Like everything else, it was simple; no adornments or jewels or etchings.  He eventually found out that one of the Sisters had given it to her in her early days of travelling with the convent.

On those few occasions when she did take time to eat, she did so alone, finding a quiet corner somewhere and sinking into the shadows.  Once he even saw her disappear into a broom closet with a sandwich and a Coke.  He couldn’t blame her.  People flocked to her, wanted to be around her. 

It was not something he’d ever experienced personally – people tended to do just the opposite in his presence – but it was easy to see how it could become tiresome after a while.  Hell, he found himself walking outside at least once an hour just to get away from it all, and he wasn’t actively interacting with any of them, preferring instead to simply do the jobs that allowed him to keep an eye on Rebecca and avoid any unnecessary socialization.

For the most part, he remained in the background, finding things to do while quietly observing.  But every now and then he couldn’t keep his distance.  Once he deliberately positioned himself outside the doorway knowing she was headed that way, just so he could discreetly catch a whiff of her scent.

Another time he just happened to be nearby when the shipment of provisions came in and he was able to easily lift the boxes she couldn’t budge.  It was then that he caught her discreet little glances at his flexing, rippling biceps when she thought he wasn’t looking.  Kane wasn’t a vain man by nature, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he did not take some pleasure in the way she seemed to like what she saw.

He didn’t understand it, but he couldn’t help it.  Maybe it was because they had formed some bizarre kind of bond between them in the jungle.  Life and death situations had a tendency to result in that kind of thing.  For whatever reason, Kane felt the need to look out for her, as if he was responsible for her in some way.  It didn’t help that she seemed incapable – or unwilling – to take care of herself like she should. 

So what if sometimes food mysteriously appeared when she’d neglected to take time out for lunch or dinner?  Or if, when she took an occasional foray into the ladies room, she returned to find whatever task she’d been working on, had been completed in her absence so she might actually sit down and rest for five minutes? 

What Kane also found particularly frustrating was her apparent lack of fear.  Not just of him, but of everyone.  The woman seemed to be totally lacking a sense of self preservation.  She had no qualms working with anyone, even some of the rougher types that looked at her with barely disguised hunger in their eyes.  Either she ignored it, or chose not to see it, but Kane saw it.  He felt the tension coil in his belly every time she was near them, and made sure that he stayed within range. 

Just one wrong move – that’s all it would take – and it would be someone’s last.

At least there seemed to be lots of people around most of the time.  It didn’t ensure her safety, but it did ease him somewhat.  It was her occasional sojourns outside the shelter at night that bothered him the most.  There always seemed to be a gang of punks skulking around, lighting up in the shadows.  Goth types, bedecked in black, thriving in the misery that came with something as unfortunate as a flood, feeding their obsession for depression.

Unsurprisingly, Rebecca had befriended them, and for some reason, that bothered Kane.  A lot.  Obviously, she was drawn to those who needed help the most.  But these kids didn’t need her.  They wanted to be miserable, or at least pretend they were. 

Maybe they were only doing it for the attention; maybe they really were decent underneath all the black clothes, piercings, and makeup; but he couldn’t help the unease he felt whenever she was around them.  Maybe that’s why he always made sure that they saw
him
, knew he was around, even when Rebecca didn’t.

* * *

“I
still can’t believe you’re here,” Aidan said, hugging her for the third time in the last hour.  He had finally managed to pull her away from the shelter with a little extra help from Michael, who told her flat out to go home and get some rest.  Now, after her hot bath and late dinner, it was just the two of them in Aidan’s townhouse.  Rebecca was comfortably ensconced on the plush sofa, dressed in fleecy, warm sweats, a hot cup of tea held between her palms.   

Rebecca laughed.  “If I’d known you’d be this happy to see me I would have visited earlier.”

Aidan pulled away, but left his hand on her shoulder.  “I really wish you would have.” 

She averted her eyes, but not before he caught the doubt that must have shown there.  He curled his index finger under her chin and gently forced her to look at him.  “I know you probably don’t believe that, but it’s true.  I’ve regretted that day ever since.  I was afraid I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you - ”

“Aidan, stop,” she commanded softly.  “I’m here now, and nothing else matters.”

“It
does
matter.  You need to know how sorry I am – for the things I said, for not being there for you, for - ”

“
Aidan
,” she said, more firmly.  “It’s alright.  What happened was not your fault.  It had been building for a long time.  You know that.  All you would have accomplished is getting yourself disinherited as well.”

“They disinherited you?” he said, stunned.

Rebecca shrugged.  She assumed they had made good on the repeated threat.  An overabundance of pride kept her from confirming it, though.  There was no way she would attempt to touch a penny of the massive trust that had been set up in her name since birth.  Whether or not her father had actually frozen the assets was irrelevant.  She kept her end of the bargain, choosing to no longer be a part of the Harrison family, and in her mind, that included Harrison money as well.