Familiar Strangers (6 page)

But she was here, and it was too late to do anything about the situation. Galen would deal with whatever came up in the next few weeks until Townsend was caught, even the weird dreams and visions which constantly swirled in his mind. Time of day didn’t seem to matter. What did matter was Regin.

She was the air he breathed.

She was the blood pumping in his heart.
She was, quite simply, his life.
He didn’t know where these feelings came from or what to do with them. And they scared the hell out him.

With every reflection of Regin, he became absorbed with feelings of rage, guilt, and remorse. The most pressing feeling was a sense of not having enough time. He wasn’t sure why he raced against the clock, but he seemed to be in the middle of a game with rules he didn’t know or understand. The game was already in play, and Regin was being pulled into the same twisted position.

His gut instinct had kept him alive in the field. He’d learned never to ignore it or hesitate to act once the feeling began. Somehow, someway, Regin was a key player in this game. Whether she knew the rules or her part, he had yet to determine.

Looking at her in the moonlit night, feeling her hand warm in his own, he could tell nothing from her expression except her awe for the majesty of nature. Had she never been able to relax and stand back to enjoy something as simple as moonlight on a beach?

Flashes and insights flowed through him like running water. Knowledge of her character came from a deeper more instinctive source. She was fierce in her protection of those she loved. She had a romantic side that she buried deep and tried to hide from the world. She felt she needed no one and nothing, but Regin had the most giving soul of anyone he’d ever met.

He felt certain there had been a time when her emotions had been worn upon her sleeve, and she hadn’t been afraid to show her feelings or gave a damn about what others thought.

He could sense she loved as fiercely as she hated, trusted only some people, and allowed fewer close to her. She allowed almost no one behind the barriers she’d built around her heart. It was her way to protect herself from the pain people inflicted, intentionally or not. She’d been betrayed, lied to, and used by those claiming to love her, changing her true nature. It was up to him break down the wall she’d been hiding behind. He just wasn’t sure where to start. Or why he should be the one to do it.

Suddenly, he wanted to enfold her within the safety of his arms and shield her from the pain of her past and the pain he knew would come. Unfortunately, he knew if he didn’t play out this strange game, he would be the cause of that pain.

Galen’s body stiffened. He would not fail her this time. He would have a choice, just as in a previous time when he’d been forced to make a decision. He prayed he’d remember the past mistake so he wouldn’t repeat it and cost them their lives a second time.

How did he know these things about her?

He shook his head to dismiss the foolish thoughts and emotions playing havoc with his mind. Nothing was real. Surely all these thoughts and visions were a simple case of too much moonlight and a beautiful woman.

He was here to keep her safe, not fall in love.

Silently, he offered her his arm and walked her back to the cottage without a word. A fragile truce had begun and the bond, unseen, was being reformed.

Several hours later, Regin forgave Damon and sat on the porch with him. She’d taken a shower to wash off the damp smell of pond water. Brushing her hair out and letting the ocean breeze blow it dry was easier than wasting time with a hairdryer. The shower had given her time to cool off, though she still didn’t understand why Damon had left her alone by the pond with Galen. To abandon her to someone they knew was okay, but it was quite another thing to leave her in the hands of a virtual stranger. Not that Galen had felt like a stranger when he’d been holding her hand under a blanket of stars. Damon hadn’t known that though. He wasn’t usually the type to turn his back and walk away; something else must be going on. Something he wasn’t telling her.

“Have a nice swim?” he asked.

She didn’t spare him a glance. “The water was wonderful. It was the company I didn’t like.” Now she turned to look at him. “Any reason you decided to leave me in the hands of a complete stranger? One you had been doing your damnedest to beat the crap out of ten minutes before?”

His look of complete innocence gave him away. When Damon tried to look innocent, he was up to something. He spread his hands out in front of him as if to show he had nothing to hide. His perfect teeth almost glowed in the moonlight as he grinned.
“Duchess, didn’t you introduce us?” he questioned. “The fight was nothing more than a slight misunderstanding, which we quickly resolved to both our satisfaction.”

This was one of his best tactics—always go on the offensive when you have something to defend. Too bad he’d taught her this lesson long ago. “Answer my question, Damon.”

“Nothing to answer. Did you feel I’d abandoned you?”

“Why did you leave me alone with that Neanderthal?”

“Why are you calling him names already? Has something more happened between the two of you than you’re telling me?”

This was getting her nowhere. Damon was a master of the game and she’d never taken time to study it. If she wanted answers, she would have to take a different tact. Although, she realized, he was telling her something by not telling her anything. He’d never worked this hard to avoid answering a question before. She wondered exactly how much he had to hide and if he knew something about Galen.

“Look, pretty boy, we can dance all night. I’ve got the time, and I haven’t been driving all day or beating up neighbors.” She shot a pointed glare at him. “So, what say I go grab a beer for the both of us, and we can see who blinks first?”

She watched as his head dropped to his chest in defeat. Amazing what a few well-placed threats could do, though she never expected him to cave this easily.

“Yeah, why don’t you grab those beers? Then we’ll talk.”

Damon angled his body deeper into the chaise lounge he was relaxing in and waited for her to return. “Damn,” he cursed into the night. How the hell was he supposed to keep a secret this important from her? They both knew she could ferret the truth out of him in minutes, hence the reminder about today’s activities. He was worn out, which was one of the reasons he’d left her to Galen.

After meeting the man and feeling his right hook, Damon did feel better with the situation. Galen Matthews was a man not to toy with. He fought dirty and didn’t apologize. As long as he was being honest with himself, Damon could admit he wasn’t sure who would have come out on top if Regin hadn’t shown up. But roughing it up had felt damn good. The fight had been the outlet he needed.

At least he could tell Regin the truth behind his fight with Galen. The man had insulted Regin and, in the manner of men throughout time, they had settled their differences. They had cleared up any misunderstandings about Regin and himself.

He hadn’t managed to come up with anything more convincing when he heard her footsteps on the porch’s wood planks. He leaned his head back against the chair and studied the star-bright sky. “It shouldn’t be too hard for you to unwind in a place like this. I think I can hear the grass growing, bats feeding, and fish belching.”

Regin placed the cans on the table between them and made herself comfortable in the matching lounge chair. “Fish belching? You really are charming aren’t you?” She paused, taking a deep breath of the salt-tinged air. “It’s wonderful out here. I can’t imagine where Tatum came up with this place, or why she hasn’t told me about it before.”

When she spoke again she didn’t bother glancing at him. Instead, she kept her eyes on the magnificent sky. “Damon, you being here doesn’t have anything to do with Shawn Townsend, does it?”

****


Galen changed clothes, cleaned his battle wounds, and grabbed another beer from the fridge. He then settled in the old swing on the back porch. It creaked gently under his weight, but held together even as he used his bare foot to push it.

Firmly ignoring all thoughts of Regin and whatever he had imagined earlier at the pond, Galen relaxed. He was in desperate need of a vacation, now more than ever. The strange visions and dreams of Regin were wearing him thin.

The night came alive with familiar, enjoyable sounds from the water, as insects and animals hunted food in the darkness. Galen scanned the night more out of habit than fear someone was lurking. He took in every tree, rock, and stump in the water in a single glance. He knew this island and the surrounding area. He’d grown up here. There would be no way the man supposedly tracking Regin could hide his presence on the island and Galen not know.

He’d played in the swamps, swam in the salty ocean water, hid in the cemetery, and explored every inch of his family’s island home. His familiarity of the island was the main reason he’d wanted Regin here. This was his turf, and he wanted to have as much leverage as possible. Not that he thought he would have to use it. Shawn Townsend breaking out of a maximum-security prison just to come after Regin Neff was highly unlikely. Regin was the first person the Feds would look to for answers. If Townsend was sane, he would steer clear of her.

Galen shook his head. Planning for a problem that probably would never occur wasn’t worth the tension or aggravation, but he was doing a favor for a friend. He’d enjoy a little well-deserved holiday at the same time.

He had enough on his mind without inventing new problems. He was more rattled than he cared to admit from the incident at the bar and now the pond. Whatever he had seen or felt while looking at Regin was going to have to wait. His time needed to be spent securing the island, checking in with his men at the office about Townsend’s jailbreak, and making sure nothing happened to his guest.

He’d already sent in a request to a friend at the Bureau and was sure, come morning, he’d know everything there was to know about The Bow Tie Strangler and his connection with Regin Neff. Saber Toussaint was one of the best in the business, and the former SEAL would send the information without question.

All Galen had to do was enjoy the view, keep an eye on Regin, and wait till his pal came through. There were worse ways to spend his time, he thought with a laugh, than sitting on a porch swing with a cold beer looking out over the island. Yes, this wasn’t going to be a problem at all. At least as long as he kept his mind on the job and off Regin’s amazing body. “Yeah, no problem at all.” He muttered to himself. “Just don’t think about her. While I’m at it, might as well stop breathing and grow another head.”

It was going to be a long night. ****

Regin’s question, “Damon, you being here doesn’t have anything to do with Shawn Townsend, does it?” rang through him, over and over again. Even with years of self-discipline behind him, it took Damon a moment to control his expression before turning to look at Regin. She was sitting quietly with her feet tucked underneath her and her hands folded against the arm of the lounge chair. Her dark hair was loose and blowing gently in the breeze; her beautiful, mysterious eyes were wary and anxious. He didn’t want to lie to Regin, but she had given him no other choice. Her life was at stake and he was willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to keep her safe.

He tried to make his voice sound as normal as possible. “What a thing to ask, Duchess!” He laughed, and to his own ears it sounded strained.

“I wouldn’t have to ask if you didn’t keep avoiding my questions.” She raised her head and stared straight into his eyes, daring him to lie.

Breaking eye contact with her was difficult, but he did and focused on the ocean just beyond sight but not sound. The rolling waves relaxed him and gave him something to focus on other than the woman sitting so patiently near him. “I’m not avoiding anything, really.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

He was dead meat. Regin would see the lie in his eyes before the words left his mouth. He needed to find some red herring to distract her, and there were only two things capable of making her jump track, the plight of people she cared about and the mention of her love life. He intended to use both.

“I know you called him a Neanderthal before, but I was wondering if the situation had improved between you and the local flavor.” He held her gaze until she jumped from the chair and walked to the steps leading toward the beach. She avoided his gaze as he knew she would.

She didn’t look back at him when she spoke. If he hadn’t been so worried about covering up his own lies, he would have delved deeper into her sudden restlessness. Instead, the situation slipped past without comment.

“Local flavor, huh?” she repeated. “Somehow I don’t get the feeling he’s a year-rounder here.”

“What’s makes you say so?” he asked, hoping to expand the topic until she was either satisfied or called it a night.

She lifted a tanned shoulder, not answering his question but coming up with one of her own. “Why do you care if my interest in him changes? He’s just a strange Cajun man I’ll be working with.”

He should have known better. Damon slunk further down into the chair thinking it would make a fine bed for the night, because he had an idea Regin was in no way through with her questioning. “I don’t care if your interest is about to change or not. I’ve just never seen you react so strongly with someone you’ve just met. Then you turn around and tell me he’s familiar to you, but you’re afraid of him.” He raised an eyebrow, making his swollen eye smart. “I think there might be something more going on than what you led me to believe.”

“Ugh. Why did I bother telling you anything in the first place?” Her face scrunched up like she wanted mentally to smack herself for the loss of control that allowed the slip to pass her lips. “You caught me at a bad time,” she explained. “I was tired and cranky, and it had been a rough afternoon. Hell, Damon, I thought the man had shot Annie.”

He smiled slightly, wincing at the pulling pain of his lips as he did so. “He shot at your dog and is still breathing? The man must have done some serious smooth talking to be alive and kicking right now.”

Her toe dug into a loose board on the step and seemed to hold her fascination.

Maybe he had accidentally hit on something between the two of them. He’d been praying and hoping for something like this for years, but he wasn’t sure Galen Matthews was what he had in mind.

“He didn’t really shoot at her,” she huffed. “He thought someone was attacking me and he went all Bubba Earp on me. Whipped out his gun, shoved me behind him, and crouched like Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon.” Her lips tightened around the edge as her brain processed the information once again. “Come to think of it...”

She stepped on to the porch pacing back and forth, stopping long enough to pat Annie on the head or scratch her ears. “Why would a man carry a gun on his own island? Who was he expecting to attack him in broad daylight?”

He sensed she was getting too close, time for a change of subject. “I’ve heard Cajuns are a strange lot, probably going alligator hunting or something.” He shrugged his shoulders dismissing the subject. “You never did tell me what happened between the two of you at the pond after I left.”

Regin waved a hand in the air without breaking the pace. “Nothing happened between us. We just met in case you’ve forgotten. As first impressions go, let me tell you, his was a whopper. Nothing like getting thrown to the ground, your dog almost shot, and a man practically sitting on you to impress a girl.”

“Good point, though I don’t think it would be such a good idea for you to antagonize him. You are, after all, sharing a very small island with the man in the middle of hurricane season.” He pointed out. “You never know when you might need him.”
Regin thought it over. True, she and Galen had gotten off to a bad start, a really bad start, but tonight, holding hands by the pond, none of that seemed to matter. She’d lost any intention of shoving Galen back into the water the moment his warm flesh touched hers.

It was as if he had stripped her outer shell away and seen beyond the barriers. This was what she was afraid of. It’s what made her so eager to leave the bar in Killeen that night. Something about him made her afraid and, like she told Damon, it wasn’t him she feared. Rather, it was something he would bring with him. If she had been forced to put words to what “it” was, she would have had to say evil.

These feelings disturbed her more than she cared to admit. Not that she didn’t believe evil existed. No. She, more than anyone, knew malevolence abounded in the world and had touched her that awful night seven years ago. She’d felt it, faced it, and almost died from it, but she’d survived.

A sudden chill in the air had her briskly rubbing her arms. Rather than try and push Damon for more conversation, she decided to call it a night and wait until morning to battle him for information once again. “Sweetie, I’m going to bed and you should too. Looks like your eyes have already lost the battle.”