Guarding the Treasure

Guarding

The

Treasure

 

 

J. K. Zimmer

 

 

 

eLectio Publishing

Little Elm, TX

www.eLectioPublishing.com

Guarding the Treasure

By J. K. Zimmer

Copyright 2015 by J. K. Zimmer

Cover Design by eLectio Publishing

ISBN-13: 978-1-63213-091-4

Published by eLectio Publishing, LLC

Little Elm, Texas

http://www.eLectioPublishing.com

The eLectio Publishing editing team is comprised of: Christine LePorte, Lori Draft, Sheldon James, and Jim Eccles.

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Table of Contents

Front Matter and Copyright Information

Guarding

Chapter One Ireland 1810

Chapter Two Washington State 2012

Chapter Three Anya

Chapter Four Anya

Chapter Five Sophie

Chapter Six Anya

Chapter Seven Sophie

Chapter Eight Kevin

Chapter Nine Sophie

Chapter Ten Kevin

Chapter Eleven Sophie

Chapter Twelve Sophie

Chapter Thirteen Kevin

Chapter Fourteen Sophie

Chapter Fifteen Kevin

Chapter Sixteen Sophie

Chapter Seventeen Kevin

Chapter Eighteen Kevin

Chapter Nineteen Sophie

Chapter Twenty Kevin

Chapter Twenty-One Sophie

Chapter Twenty-Two Kevin

Chapter Twenty-Three Sophie

Chapter Twenty-Four Kevin

Chapter Twenty-Five Sophie

Chapter Twenty-Six Washington State

Chapter Twenty-Seven Trey

Chapter Twenty-Eight Three

About the Author

Guarding

the Treasure

“It's gone, all gone!” The man's dark eyes were locked, fixed forward in disbelief. Anya had never seen such an empty, dreadful look in her father's eyes before. His cheeks drained of color, and a ghostly appearance like white slate was frozen on her father's face. It was haunting to the point of hellishness, she thought, continuing to peer into the book-laden room where her parents sat close together. Her strained eyes saw plainly the strong hands of her father shaking as he reached to encase the delicate white hands of her mother.

Anya held her breath as she slowly closed the bedroom door, blocking the unsettling scene from her eyes. She wished to erase it from her mind forever, leaving no memory, only a small sliver of dull light into the blackened room. She stood unmoving, like a statue. What was gone? Why so much anguish in her father's voice, she wondered.

Anya lay back on the bed in the darkness, closing her eyes as she turned to her side, pulling the covers tightly around her neck. The ritual normally brought security, but tonight the blankets felt as if they would strangle her, not providing comfort to her eighteen-year-old body.

 

Sean lay collapsed on the daybed in the light-filled atrium. His dark blue shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned, exposing a fair but well-developed chest. His blond curls were tossed and disheveled, and his green eyes teetered between open and closed. He slowly raised himself from the daybed, planting both feet on the floor as he ran his hands to the back of his neck, pushing his thumbs deep into the swollen cords that seemed to run right to his brain. He tried to rub the knots that had formed, probably from not sleeping in his own bed that night.
Where had he slept?
he asked himself, struggling to remember. A corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile as he continued to nurse the results of an indescribable night of too much Irish beer and a beautiful woman whose name he wasn't quite sure of. His grin broadened as he replayed the illicit acts over again in his mind while waiting for Anya to join the family for the morning meal.

Sean caught a look of her as she opened her bedroom door. He watched the graceful movement of her body down the stairs. “Ah, there you are, my bit of a sister,” he said, greeting her in a semi-chipper voice.

Anya paused to glance his way. Her green eyes narrowed. “You don't amuse me this morning, brother.”

He reached out and took hold of her. A surge of energy bolted through him, and he squeezed hard, leaving deep prints on her bare pallid arm as they walked. “And why might that be, small one? Have you been careless and self-centered as to not have looked out into the gardens yet?” he asked, wanting to tease her with his words. “The bright sunlight is bathing the long stems of the sprouts.” He leaned in close to her. “It truly is an alluring sight to behold,” he whispered seductively into her ear.

“Do not talk to me in such a way,” she whispered, pulling away from him contentiously. “Mother may hear you and take it that I have the same sick mind that you do.”

He laughed roughly, but quietly enough that only she could hear. His grip once again tightened on her. “Oh, little sister, do not play your word games with me.” His breath was wet and heavy in her ear. “I may be out of your private school, but do not think for one minute that you can hide behind iron bars and make all people believe that you are innocent.” He pushed her aside to survey her. “Your body may be pure, but what of your thinking?” he whispered, looking from the room, hoping no eyes were upon them.

Sean saw Anya's eyes widen at his forcefulness. He tightened his grip at her resistance.

“I do not understand what you are talking about Sean.” Tears formed in her eyes from the pain.

Sean gazed through her tears, his hand bracing her chin. “Oh, I believe you do, little lass.” His words pushed hot on her face. “I've seen your sweet, sultry reaction to men as they give you a second look in passing on the street. And what of that sly little encounter in the park with my friend Aedan? He told me lass of the kiss.” He shifted his eyes darkly upon her. He had her now, and he knew it.

Anya gave a sudden unexpected jerk, pulling her arm free, and walked straight ahead, away from him, dabbing her eyes.

“Good morning, Mother,” Anya said, kissing their mother on the cheek as she passed and took her place at the table.

Sean tipped his head. “Mother,” he said, glancing around the room, noticing his father was not present. He sneered under his breath, laughing inwardly at his father's grand but empty chair. As of late, the head of the house seemed to have impressive excuses for not eating with the family in the evenings, and now the morning as well? Brazen thoughts came to his mind. And what excuse will he give his wife for his absence? It would not matter. Their mother worshiped her husband and would believe he was God in the flesh if he would state it. Sean reveled in the thought and laughed. “May I ask where Father is at the top of this day?”

Mrs. Alanna O'Connell motioned for him to sit, smiling warmly as she gazed at both of her children, reflecting back, as she often did, to when they were young and innocent. Now they were eighteen and twenty-one—young adults—but in her mind still youngsters who needed to be protected. Their eyes were locked on her and held certain expectancy, even at their current age. Alanna O'Connell's husband provided her only enough information to arouse interest and awaken questions in the children that she could not answer that morning. Daniel O'Connell, her loving husband, had arrived home late the night before. They had briefly discussed business affairs before he left again and headed to the warehouse on the water's edge. Mrs. O'Connell was in the dark about much of the business dealings of her husband and preferred it that way. “Your father has fallen on hard times with some of the businesses, which has affected…” She stopped, looking down at the delicate hankie she held between her fingers. She searched her mind to find the right words, but she could not
. I must wait
, she thought. Their father would be able to explain the loss in greater detail. “Children…” Her words came soft and quiet, mirroring her very being. She did not look at them as she spoke. “I'm afraid that I cannot tell you.”

“Mother,” Sean hit the table hard with his hand, a distinct ring of agitation in his voice. “I can tell this is hard for you, but how can you expect us to go through this day waiting for what seems to be poor news about our father's business when you will not share what you know? I hope you do realize, my sweet mother that I am not a child, and I have invested time and money of my own into the family business. I have heard nothing of ill report as of the past few weeks.”

Sean rose quickly to his feet, pulled at his shirt and vest, and then rested his hands on the table closest to his mother's side. He leaned down, face to face with her, his voice rough. “With respect, I request you tell me about these hard times and tell me this minute,” he said, once again hitting his hand firmly on the solid oak.

“You will not speak to your mother in such a tone,” a voice cut through the room.

Surprise fell across each face as they turned to see Mr. O'Connell entering the dining room from the kitchen. Only the servants entered from that set of doors, and they found it odd to see the dignified man of the house swing them open.

“Sean, take your place,” he commanded in an earsplitting voice. Turning his back on his son, he made his way to the head of the table.

Sean slowly pulled his chair from its place at the table; his eyes cut in cold slits and fixed hard on his father. He was ready to spew the deep contempt that filled each chamber of his dark heart. He loathed his father's demands and self-righteous attitude. In times like these, it made him burn with anger to his core, making it almost impossible to hold his tongue. The verbal encounters, much like this one, had been occurring more regularly between the two of them. This was the breaking point. Sean would not allow his father to treat him as one of the poor boggers from the countryside any longer. He held a blatant stare on his father, waiting for his next words. No way would he have the last word this time. Sean was waiting for the moment he would tell his father about how he had been secretly investing, making his own way in the business world, and would be well gone before long. Sean took a long drink of whatever was in the glass at his morning place setting, and then turned his attention to his mother. She certainly did not deserve the commands he had just given her, and for that a twinge of regret lodged in his throat. But he would much worse if she ever found out about the mistress her beloved husband had been keeping for the past two years. Sean smiled in disgust, taking another drink. He knew more about his father and his dealings than anyone realized, and one day he would use it for his benefit. But now his father would stand before his family and with a noble voice tell them what? How failure had come to the O'Connell Empire? Perhaps Mother and Anya would be sucked into his sad lie, but he knew the real man who stood before them, and it sickened him. He was away in the head, and one day Sean would make it very clear to his father just how he felt about him.