Bj James - Night Music

“My brother.”

“By my count, you have three, missy.”

“It’s Devlin.”

“Devlin isn’t one of mine.” Though not from lack of trying, Simon admitted. Devlin O’Hara was perfect for The Watch. But beyond the rare assignment, he eluded its persuasive leader.

“He has been, on occasion.”

Simon had leaned back until his chair teetered on two legs. Now it banged down. “How the devil could you know that?”

Despite her worry, Val laughed. “Lucky guess.”

“Remind me not to play poker with you,” he grumbled.

“Consider yourself reminded.” Advancing to the desk, she leaned closer. “Will you help?”

“Sorry, missy, that’s impossible. In the first place…”

Valentina caught his hand in hers. Folding each finger to form the fist he would have made with each of five points, she held it tightly. Every agent knew the gesture. “Simon, there is no first place, or fifth. This is Devlin, the strongest and best of us.”

Simon nodded as she released his fist. “Denali.”

Of course he knew. He would have gathered the information himself. “Then you understand the problem.”

“I know the facts and ramifications,” he corrected. “I’m sure no one understands the problem, or the solution as you do.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Ahh, in case it isn’t, why don’t you explain.”

“Who is Devlin?” She asked. “What is he to us?”

“Your brother, your hero and knight gallant.” Simon knew the direction she was taking this. But it would be interesting to see how far she would go.

“For as long as we can remember, there’s always been someone he could rescue, or care for, or protect. Now he believes he failed on Denali. As long as he does, he’ll never forgive himself.”

“So you would offer him a chance to redeem himself,” Simon suggested. “Hoping in redemption, he finds forgiveness.”

“That’s where you come in. He needs a damsel in distress.”

“One of my damsels.” Simon didn’t wait for an answer. “And no doubt you know exactly who.”

“Exactly. With your permission, of course.”

“Of course.” He watched her for a considering moment. “Does this damsel have a name?”

“Kate Gallagher.”

“What do you know about Kate, missy?”

“I met her once, outside your office.”

“Once?” Simon lifted a shaggy brow. “From that, you deduce she’s what your brother needs?”

Valentina didn’t hesitate. “I liked what I saw. Later, I heard she lost her partner. Now she’s troubled and nothing The Watch offered has helped. Devlin seems the logical solution.”

“For both of them?”

Valentina met his look calmly. “He won’t hurt her, Simon.”

“Has it occurred to you your brother might refuse to take part in this cockamamie plan, Valentina?”

“You give the okay on Kate. I’ll handle Devlin.”

“You’re that sure, are you?”

“Our brothers have never been capable of refusing Patience or me. Devlin’s different now, but he won’t say no.”

The venerable commander of The Black Watch was equally as sure. Just as he’d known when she marched into his office with that familiar determined look that no matter what she wanted, or what argument he offered, he would lose.

“So,” Valentina concluded. “If there’s nothing else…”

“Haven’t you overlooked something?”

Mission accomplished, she was ready to leave. “Have I?”

With a scrawl, he tore a sheet from a pad. “Kate’s address.”

“I know where she is, Simon.”

Crumpling the paper, he muttered, “Given that her location is a deep secret, it seems I have a leak.”

“There’s no leak. My source talks only to me.” A grin teased her mouth. “Unless you consider me the leak.”

“Never you, Valentina.” Drawing his thumb across a lighter, he touched flame to paper. When fire licked away letters spelling out Belle Terre, South Carolina, he dropped it in an empty trash can. “As usual, your visit has been…interesting.”

“My pleasure.”

“And mine.”

Val paused by the door. “The standing invitation still stands, should you find time to come to the shore.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Positively, I hope.” With a wave, she was gone.

Into the quiet, Simon spoke thoughtfully, “Maybe I will go out to the bay. Renew old acquaintances. Lay some groundwork.”

The day was coming when he must choose his replacement. Given her intuition and with added maturity, Valentina O’Hara Courtenay would be the perfect choice. If she could succeed with Devlin in this, Simon hadn’t a doubt she could do anything.

Ravenel’s By The River was not just a grocery store, but also a meeting place for the citizenry of Belle Terre. Today, pleasant temperatures of autumn had brought shoppers out en masse. With music drifting about them, they traversed wide aisles, filling carts with an extraordinary array of wines, flowers, and groceries.

No one seemed to hurry. Some only nodded and smiled at other shoppers. But the majority stopped to chat, to gossip, to laugh, or to adjourn to the canopied balcony that served as a teahouse. There, with the river sliding by, in the shade of a centuries-old oak, they sipped tea, sherry, and even the ritual bourbon and branch water to the accompaniment of more gossip, more laughter.

Only Kate Gallagher seemed oblivious to the pleasant surroundings. Only she paid no homage to expected Southern customs as she moved through the music, gliding from one corridor to the next. Her head bent, her face veiled by a wealth of hair falling against her cheek, none who passed caught her eye. Some glanced her way. Others appeared inclined to speak. But as if the silvery veil were a wall innate courtesy must not breach, no one intruded.

Once upon a time Devlin O’Hara would have considered that aloof detachment a challenge. One look at the melancholy barely hidden in Kate’s distracted gaze, and it would have become his prevailing mission in life to make her world a better place. To make her smile, perhaps even laugh, as the others laughed.

But that was once upon a time. A time of innocence now and forever lost to him. And no matter what he’d promise Valentina, he wouldn’t interfere.

He’d learned that some things never heal, and the pain and guilt never eased. Perhaps for some, as for him, it shouldn’t.

If, as the cliché promised, the blind couldn’t lead the halt, who was he to play Galahad?

And if the question had an answer, it wasn’t one he wanted to face. Not now. Not yet. So it was that when she approached his loitering space, he turned away, determinedly immersing himself in deciding which brand of coffee he needn’t buy.

He sensed her faltering step rather than heard it. Something more than the rustle of her clothing, or the scent of sunlight and flowers, warned of her nearness. An inexplicable awareness sent an uncommon disquiet racing through him.

More to counter any feelings regarding Valentina’s latest lost lamb than an interest in the coffee he wouldn’t be drinking on a Belle Terre morning, he reached for a brightly labeled packet. Unexpectedly, their hands collided, but his a fraction behind. With a pilot’s instincts and reflexes, his fingers closed over hers, keeping the package from tumbling out of her grasp.

For a moment neither moved nor spoke. Devlin stared down at a mass of hair ranging from dark gold to the palest silver, and falling from a center part. Barely realizing he was holding his breath, he waited for her head to lift.

When she stirred, her unshielded gaze rising to his, her eyes were golden brown and fringed by dark lashes. Her look was remote, without emotion.

“Pardon me.” Her voice was low and restrained, as remote, as emotionless, as her gaze. Each spare word was without accent, and perfectly enunciated in the quiet tone of a woman apart. A woman going through the motions of her life, taking each moment as it came. Coping…only coping.