Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles (11 page)

Before she could fully complete that thought, Shay spun her around again, fast and furiously, holding her still with a grip on her shoulders so she couldn’t escape.

“Does this little demonstration have a point?”

Shay shook her.

Taryn narrowed her eyes at him and growled.

Something like respect flashed across his face and was gone faster than the time it took to spin her. She hated that. She also hated Jesse for leaving her to the tender mercies of this man and his ‘lessons’.

“Lesson Two: Know your limitations.” Again his voice was without malice, without condescension, just a calm, emotionless recitation of information.

Taryn inclined her head slightly, acknowledging Shay’s point. She didn’t lie to herself intentionally and, in Taryn’s experience, when an adversary is right, fighting the knowledge instead of acting on it is simply a waste of time. Even so, she decided she would no longer accede to this particular adversary.

Her chin jutted up and her eyes narrowed. Taryn took a deep breath that expanded her chest as she rolled her shoulders back. She said nothing, simply willed him to understand her intent. Her body might not have been up to the challenge yet, but her will sure as hell was as strong as his.
Next time we reenact this little scenario we’ll see who lands on top, asshole.

Sensei Schwartz turned off the camera feed to his newest student’s room and prepared for her imminent arrival in Jesse’s third floor dojo. Taryn Campbell would make a fine student, Sensei thought.

She has the spirit of a Samurai. A fine start.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dagmar Alexander had never been farther west in the States than Boston, the harbor and wharf areas to be precise. She was unprepared for the vastness of the country in general or the specific beauty of Wisconsin in particular. She and her father, Seamus, traveled from Boston by rental car, first to Bar Harbor, Maine, which she loved and Seamus found amusing, mostly because of the accents. While there, Dagmar purchased some lovely tourmalines she intended to use in some of her new designs when she got home.

She called Magnus earlier in the week, informing him that she and Seamus would be stopping in Boston first, spending a few days sightseeing there, before they’d fly into Chicago. Magnus was busy checking out art schools while he stayed with a ‘friend’ Mari had never met just south of Milwaukee. He wanted to stay for something called Summerfest. He’d also somehow managed to secure a twelve week internship at the Milwaukee Art Museum.

When Mari talked to him on the phone last evening, Magnus seemed almost giddy with excitement, telling her that the museum’s chief curator was interested in carrying some sterling pieces that he’d designed for their Orkney collection of jewelry, in the gift shop. He was even more excited to be planning a special Celtic jewelry exhibition, which was to include modern, vintage and ancient pieces, as well as reproductions. All replicas would be for sale in the art museum’s gift shop as well.

She wasn’t sure how any of that was going to be figured out by a twenty year old, especially her twenty year old, with his poet’s soul and newly found wandering heart. Magnus had always been more interested in staying within a hundred kilometers of Scotland. Now, he found a friend and suddenly her entire family was in the States for an extended holiday. Not that she minded. She loved her time here, but she missed having daily contact with Magnus and she was worried by his out of character need to explore the world on his own.

“Where are we go’n, Mari-girl? This GPS contraption is taking me around in circles and I haven’t seen a house since we turned off the county road onto this unmarked road. We’re supposed to be looking for the country, whatever that means.”

“Magnus said his mate’s house was in the country. I guess this is
the
country, Dad.”

It was a lovely summer morning. They had the windows down and the scent of freshly mowed grass teased Mari’s nostrils with its earthy fragrance. She’d noticed lawn care was a big deal here in the Midwest. Everyone seemed to be out cutting their lawns to what appeared to be an agreed upon and uniform length. She thought the English were garden obsessed.

A large pond came into view as they passed a hand painted sign that read:
Potter’s Woods: Alternative Healthcare & Wellness.
Mari bolted up in her seat and hit her father’s shoulder. “Stop, stop, stop.
Daaaddd…stop.
”

Seamus stopped the car, in the middle of the road. This had to be the country because there was no other traffic. “That’s Magnus’s mate’s house?” Seamus gestured to the large yellow house with green shutters and white trim. “There’s a whole gaggle of old people doing some kind of fancy slow dance in the garden. Kind of an odd place for the lad to shack up.”

“They call it a yard here, dad, not a garden. What they’re doing isn’t a dance, it’s Tai Chi, and I doubt very much Magnus is ‘shacking up’ with anyone here. He said to look for this house. ‘The big house’ I think he called it. He’s staying just beyond this property.” Mari’s heart began to pound with anticipation. “I can’t wait to see him. It feels like he’s been gone weeks.”

“Aye it does.” Seamus smiled at her, his large body so like his grandson’s and so unlike her small frame. “But you have to let the lad find his own path. It’s well past time.” Seamus said.

His words fell heavy on her, making her feel an uncomfortable sense of foreboding. That was more common than not with Seamus these days. Sometimes he turned morose, like a man not pleased with his choices. Some days a melancholy cloud hung like a mantle on his shoulders, making him appear older than his sixty-four years. Some days he was a happy-go-lucky Scotsman who enjoyed wine, women and song but wasn’t going to do a damn thing to procure two out of three, choosing to hide behind age and habit, but doing it with a knowing twinkle in his eye for what he was missing.

Seamus had aged well. Her father was still vital and attractive and game for a holiday abroad, but he’d been lonely as of late. She’d caught him staring off into space, thinking of her mother no doubt. He seemed to lose himself in the sands of time more frequently and it took longer to pull him back to the land of the living. Mari hadn’t thought about it before now, but maybe she and Magnus weren’t enough for him any longer. That thought hit her upside the head with the savagery of a blind-side rugby tackle.

“I didn’t think he’d find that path thirty-eight hundred miles away. Let’s go find him, shall we? I’m dying to meet this new friend of his.”

Mari didn’t see the lanky man with long red hair walking among the oaks, nor did she hear his mirth filled words, although they resonated through her subconscious:
You won’t be dying any time soon, fair Mari. The Goddess isn’t going to let you off the hook that easily, daughter of Danu.

…

Shay delivered Taryn to Sensei Schwartz. It was something that had to be done for her own good, but he took little joy in it. He didn’t like being the one to teach her her first two lessons on survival either. His world, Jesse’s world, and now Taryn’s, wasn’t one where women like her should be spending time. Unfortunately for her, there were bad people in the world and she’d had the misfortune to meet four of them who actively wanted to do her harm. That meant whether she liked it or not, she needed to be able to take care of herself, and Sensei Schwartz would ensure she had the tools to do so, quickly, and with brutal efficiency.

Shay threw a black t-shirt over his head, shrugged out of his sweatpants and put on a worn pair of jeans and running shoes. He wore his Walther in an ankle holster on his left and his fixed blade four inch Ka-bar in a sheath on his right. The ladies at Potter’s Woods did not like weapons in plain view unless they were ancient and Okinawan. It was simpler to accede to their wishes on the matter than to argue, and he prided himself on being a simple man.

Magnus had left already for his internship at the art museum, something Shay had Jordon to thank for, so the rest of the morning was his own. He didn’t actually have to be anywhere. Jesse didn’t want his help running down the white van and Reed, Henry, Jordon and Mary Campbell were locked away arguing about who or what was behind the attack on Taryn and how to deal with it. The only one besides him who had absolutely nothing to do was no-last-name-Merlin, who seemed to appear every time something momentous happened. Shay rubbed the back of his shaved head on his way to the kitchen. If he didn’t know better he’d swear Merlin was the reincarnation of his namesake, only with a perverse sense of humor and a bad sense of timing.

Shay opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bag of organic spinach, an onion, some organic free range eggs and some peppered goat cheese he purchased at the farmer’s market three days ago, a lifetime given the events of the past thirty or so hours. He chopped, cracked whisked and cut before going to the windowsill to pluck some fresh basil. He then cut that into ribbons and set it aside for top of his omelet. Shay took joy in the simple domestic art of creating fresh food. Simple man. Simple joys.

He turned on the cook top, medium heat, poured some grape seed oil into the pan, heating it, rotating the pan to coat the bottom, then he poured in the egg mixture. The door bell rang, which Shay thought was odd since everyone at Potter’s Woods knew the code to get in and he’d even given Magnus a slide key. Shay turned the heat to low and went toward the door stopping at the sideboard to grab another Walther. He chambered a round before placing it under his t-shirt in his waistband.
Better safe than sorry.

Taking a deep breath Shay opened the door. He wouldn’t have needed any of his weapons, but she might if she got close enough to frisk him. Oh how he wished she’d try. Simple man. Simple pleasures.

Shay opened the door and was face to face with the woman who’d owned his heart and soul since the day they met. He wanted to strangle her and kiss her breathless at the same time.

“Hello, Mari. Fancy meeting you here, love.”

The look on her face as he said her name let him know that Magnus didn’t warn her. Mari had absolutely no idea he’d be standing behind this door. First something approaching joy sparkled in her moss green eyes followed by disbelief, finally and perhaps most satisfyingly, transforming into blood draining fear.

She fainted. Shay caught her before she hit the ground. Holding Mari close, smelling the heather and moss scent of her hair, feeling her heart beat, was a pleasure filled pain that wasn’t so simple after all.

“Still making the wee lass swoon at your feet, O’Shay. Nice to see ye haven’t lost yer touch.”

“I’ve missed you Seamus. Sometimes more than I’ve missed her. Come on in.” Shay said, making way for the bear of a man he loved like a father, kicking the door shut behind him. “I take it I have you to thank for Magnus tracking me down.”

“Tried to do right by the lass, but the lad’s a man now and a man needs to know his father.” Seamus lifted his head, sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?”

Great. There goes my breakfast.

“My simple life going up in smoke.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Training Day Three

Punch…front kick…upper-cut…hook…crescent kick-spinning back kick…back-fist…reverse punch…elbow…shuto…left hook…more, more, more…

Absolutely every part of her she could name, and even more she couldn’t, hurt from the tips of her ears to her blistered bare toes. She’d hiked the Rockies and the Brecon Beacons. She’d trudged through the moors. Hell, she even did a five kilometer run for arthritis research four times a year. Nothing she’d ever done had prepared her for the utter and absolute exhaustion she was feeling. Still, she managed to keep moving.

She was starting to visibly shake. Sensei Schwartz seemed blissfully oblivious to her plight as he called out yet another series of what he defined as
basic
moves which he expected her to learn the first time she was shown. Feeling hopelessly inept, Taryn seriously considered having herself tested for some as yet undefined learning disability. It was probably called dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks-and-twice-as-uncoordinated syndrome.

She felt weak
and
stupid. If bad guys with guns showed up she’d probably beg them to shoot her.

Front kick…hook kick…roundhouse…spinning back kick…land in zen…back-fist…reverse punch…shuto to the temple…repeat...

Breathing, something Taryn previously took for granted, became an exercise in burning pain as each breath expanded her swimmer’s lungs well past what had been their limit.

What she really wanted was to protect herself. Relying on anyone else, especially anyone in her newfound family, was so abhorrent that it kept her moving. That thought, and the thought of throwing Shay on his fine Irish ass, kept her going.

“Focus.” Sensei said.

One word, softly uttered. She focused on nothing but making her body move the way he showed her. She focused her mind on getting it right the first time. She abandoned all thought and did the next series of moves Sensei called out.

“Better.” He said. One more word. It was enough.

…

Jesse met MacBain at MacBain’s office in the museum, half hoping he’d spot a tail or some sort of surveillance. Jesse brought a four man team with him, at Henry’s insistence. Henry was right, his objectivity was compromised when it came to Taryn. And although it galled him to admit it, he wasn’t about to put Taryn at risk to salve his ego. That would just be stupid, and he wasn’t a stupid man.

He wasn’t a patient man either apparently. His heretofore legendary patience fled when it came to MacBain and MacBain’s claim on Taryn, being replaced by a more primitive and less thinking part of his brain.

MacBain didn’t stand as Jesse walked in, that didn’t particularly bother Jesse, since he recognized the beginnings of a pissing match when he saw one. Jordon had done more than teach him how to turn one dollar into fifty, he’d educated him in the fine art of the deal in ways most successful men couldn’t fathom. The tactics Jordon taught had more to do with the fine art of wielding a katana than wielding a golf club, but he ensured his stepson was equally adept at both. Jesse had also learned how to spot a fake. Lauren MacBain was no fake.