Under a Rogue Moon

Chapter 5

Chapter 5He surprised her by taking matters into his own hands once they were in the kitchen.

“I’m in the mood for pancakes,” Jason said, heading straight for the nearest cupboard. “Do you have any Bisquick?”

She bit back her smile. “You’re asking a family of bakers if they have some cheap, American excuse for a baking product?” Flanna pushed past him and pulled out the canisters she would need to make them from scratch, all too aware of him hovering just behind her shoulder. “Just be glad my father didn’t hear you ask that. He might’ve revoked his good opinion of you.”

His breath was warm as it tickled near her ear. “These aren’t going to be those flat things you English try to pass off as pancakes, are they?”

“Only if you continue to annoy me.” She slapped at his hand when he tried to reach past her and touch her ingredients. “I need eggs. And you can forget having maple syrup on them. You’ll just have to do with golden syrup or use sugar and lemon juice like my nan does.”

Flanna felt surprisingly chilled when Jason moved away, and risked glancing back to see him retrieving the items she’d requested. He looked oddly at home in her house, opening doors without hesitation, not bothering to ask when he didn’t find what he was looking for right away. She knew without having to wonder that this bravado filtered through into other aspects of his life. He hadn’t backed off on her at Rage until she’d walked away, and he hadn’t given up on approaching her here. It probably made him a formidable opponent when he was hunting.

“How does a woman like your nan go from hunting werewolves to running a bakery?” Jason asked. He leaned against the counter, watching as she worked. “Not that I can’t see her doing it. It’s more than obvious you got that gorgeous Xena, Warrior Princess, vibe from her.”

His unabashed admiration made Flanna wonder how much of the fresh heat in her body was from the flame on the nearby stovetop or from his frank gaze, but she couldn’t be entirely sure whether the compliment was directed toward her or her grandmother. “She didn’t,” she said. It shocked her to hear her voice sound so calm when her mind was anything but. “My father inherited the responsibility from his father, and so on and so on. There hasn’t been a female demonhunter in the McRae family since the early nineteenth century.”

“And now there’s you.”

It was said so softly that it raised goosebumps along her arms. She stirred the batter even more vigorously in order to try and make them go away.

“How did you find me?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

Jason shrugged. “Just had to grease a few palms,” he said. “It’s funny. Sometimes I forget that money can be used as a weapon just as much as a gun can.”

“Is that your preferred weapon of choice? A gun?”

“No, I’ll pretty much use just about anything I can reach. You, though…” He shifted, turning so that he faced her full on. “The things I’ve heard about your marksmanship. You’re going to have to show me how much of an Annie Oakley you really are.”

“Do I get to use you for target practice?”

His smile was anything but coy. “You’ve got to catch me first.”

Her mouth was open to retort when the sharp realization that she was flirting made Flanna pause. It wasn’t so bad that the tone of their conversation had shifted. It was the fact that she had been enjoying it—a lot—that was the most horrifying.

Abruptly, Flanna shifted her attention to the griddle, her back deliberately to Jason as she focused on making the pancakes. She didn’t do this. Not here. Not when she wasn’t hunting. And she definitely didn’t do it with annoying know-it-alls convinced they were the hottest thing since sliced bread. Even annoying know-it-alls who had tracked her down in order to save her life.

The pan sizzled, ready for Flanna to start. As she poured out a portion of the batter, however, the oil crackled and danced, hot beads splattering upwards and onto her hand. The suddenness made her cry out, and she jerked her arm back away from the griddle.

“Here.”

Before she could think, Jason was taking the bowl and scoop from her tight grips, then leading her over to the sink. His fingers were strong against hers as he ran them under lukewarm water, soothing the sting on her skin, but what she felt more than anything else was the long hard line of his body pressed lightly along hers.

“Remind me not to have you do any cooking over an open flame if we’re ever out for an all-night hunt,” he said.

“This is why Nan does the baking and I just wait on customers,” Flanna complained.

“Well, I’m not a customer.” Turning off the tap, Jason kept a light grip on her hands as he reached for a kitchen towel. He dabbed at her damp skin before wrapping the towel gently around her fingers. “I’m also not too keen on having your dad kick me out on my first day for letting his little girl get hurt,” he added with a smile. “So, you sit while I finish these up. I might not know my biz from my quick, but this part, I can do.”

Seated at the kitchen table, she watched him with growing astonishment, listening to him chatter much like he had the night before, talking about various restaurants he’d visited over the years and who made the best breakfasts. It was frivolous and inane and completely unrelated to any purpose he might have with her or his presence in Birley, but it did more for putting Flanna at ease than if he’d spent an hour discussing his CV. She was roused from the pleasure of listening to him speak when she noticed him pulling two plates out of the cupboard.

“I’ve already eaten,” she said.

That didn’t stop him from flipping pancakes onto both of the dishes. “I don’t eat alone,” Jason said. “It makes me nervous being the only one in the room chewing.”

When he kept pulling bottles and jars out of the refrigerator, loading his arms with anything that might possibly taste good on the pancakes, Flanna actually laughed.

“You’re just trying to fatten me up so that I’m slower than you,” she said.

“Maybe.” His eyes were twinkling as he began setting down his prizes on the table. “Or maybe I’m just giving you a really good incentive to want to work it all off.”

Her skin warmed at the way his gaze flickered over her body, and abruptly Flanna turned her attention to her second breakfast of the day. Jason Randolph was a dangerous man. He had the power to make her forget things. One glance from those brilliant blue eyes combined with one all-too-smooth compliment from that mouth that had likely known way too many women, and she seemed to lose all her perspective.

For a minute, she flashed on the question of what she would have done if she’d seen Jason at Rage before the Neanderthal. Would she have used him in the same way she’d been planning on using the other guy?

It was something she didn’t really want to answer. As frustrating as Jason could be, her respect for him was growing, albeit begrudgingly. It was hard to dislike someone with as much passion for the value of life as he had. Flanna didn’t want to think that she could have been so shallow with someone who clearly deserved better.

“I don’t think you’re so fast anyway,” Jason was saying. She glanced up to meet his mischievous gaze. “Maybe you’re a gun girl because you know you’re too slow to run away in time if you got closer and things went south.”

Then again, maybe not.

* * * *

After breakfast, Jason dragged her back outside, eager for her to show him her shooting skills. It had been a long time since Flanna had had to do any sort of display; not since her father had tested her prior to letting her hunt on her own had she used her weapons in front of anybody other than prey. But he seemed hungry to watch, falling uncharacteristically quiet as she readied her tools, and remained so while she fired off round after round.

As soon as the gun was out of her hand, he was striding forward, passing her by and heading straight for the targets at the end of the track. Flanna was slow to follow, knowing already what he was going to see, but when she reached his side, prepared for the comment she was sure to come, she was surprised even more by his silence. His fingers traced over the holes in the paper, and she watched his lips move as he counted them over and over again.

Finally, it got to be too much.

“Just say it,” she demanded. Her jaw set when he raised darkened eyes to meet hers. “There’s got to be some kind of remark you can make that will make me feel utterly useless, even though I know I didn’t miss a shot.”

Jason just shook his head. “You have got to be one of the most amazing women I have ever met,” he said. He gestured toward the target in his hand. “Some of these shots are so on top of each other, you can barely see the new holes.”

The genuine awe in his voice rattled her. “It’s…better to be consistent.”

“Still. That kind of accuracy? How the hell did you miss Romm?”

The images his question evoked flooded over Flanna.

The brisk Connecticut wind, autumn leaves rustling overhead while she tracked the werewolves through the wood.

The high-pitched squeal of the first wolf going down when she shot at it.

The coppery scent of blood mingling with the damp, distracting her just long enough for the second wolf to leap at her from behind and send them both down to the wet earth. She’d barely had time to pull her silver knife from its sheath and rip it across its throat.

Then, rising to her feet, shaky, bleeding from where she’d hit her head in the fall, listening to the approaching howl of the third Romm wolf in the distance.

She’d missed because she never took the shot. She’d been too busy running away, needing to lick her wounds before trying again. Needing to feel sure again before daring to put her life back on the line.

Slowly, Flanna took the target away from Jason. “I thought you said you were there,” she asked carefully.

“‘There,’” he said, using air quotes to mock the word, “was a pretty big place. By the time I found the two dead werewolves, the blood was already cold.”

“Then how did you know it was me?”

He hesitated a fraction of a second too long before replying. “I followed the trail away until I found where you were staying. It wasn’t hard to figure out after that.” He flashed his trademark smile. “There aren’t that many Flanna McRaes in the world.”

Jason began walking away before she could press the issue. She had the nagging feeling that there was more he wasn’t telling, but the opportunity for sharing had passed, leaving her with the lingering question of what his motives were in pursuing Romm halfway across the world. One of these times when he was in a more serious mood, she was going to have to ask again. Only then did she think he’d be willing to tell.

* * * *

His late night and traveling finally caught up with him by mid-afternoon, leaving Jason sound asleep on the couch when Flanna heard the delivery van pull up in the drive. She was out the front door, waiting at the bottom step, before her father could even get out of the truck.

“You haven’t scared him away already, have you?” Colin said with a smile.

Her eyes flickered to where her grandmother was heading around the side of the house. “Does Nan know?”

“About Mr. Randolph? Of course. You think I’d let a stranger stay in our house without telling her?” His eyes narrowed, thick brows drawing together in speculation. “Where is he? Not run off, I hope.”

Briefly, Flanna described the events of the day. “And it’s not that I don’t trust your opinion, Dad,” she said, “but it would be kind of nice to know what you found out that’s made you think of this guy as the second coming.”

“Come,” he said, taking the same path around the house as Helen had. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

Instead of going into the rear of the house, Colin continued through the back garden, staying mute until they reached the barn. He didn’t speak until the door was bolted firmly shut behind them, and Flanna was poised in expectation by the workout mats.

“According to the numbers I’ve been given,” he began, “Mr. Randolph has killed more demons in the past two years than you have in the past five. Vampires, werewolves, beasts too hideous to describe…he’s killed them all, Flanna. Guillaume said he has the reputation for being quite tenacious. Once, he tracked a vampire back to its nest and had at least two broken ribs and a nicked lung by the time he finally managed to kill the bastard. Even then, he was out of the hospital within days, against doctor’s orders, tracking another beast. That’s why if he says he’s followed this Romm fella to you, I’m inclined to believe him. He’s known for going to whatever lengths necessary for a kill.”

“But…” She was at a loss for words. It was one thing to know Jason had a reputation, but to hear that it was as extensive as all that left her head spinning. “We’ve never even heard of him before,” she argued. “How can he be so prolific and not come to our attention?”

“Because he rarely leaves the States,” came the reply. “They’ve got enough demon activity to keep him busy. You know that.”

Questions finally started to crystallize, and she fired them at her father as quickly as they appeared.

“What about his family?”

“They’re not involved.”

“But they would have to know. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes to be alone.”

“That’s a matter you’ll have to discuss with him, then, I think.”

“And Romm? Did you find out what his grudge is with Romm?”

Colin shook his head. “That one remains a mystery. We’ll just have to hope that he eventually chooses to trust us with that information. In the meantime, I want you to work with him. Train with him. Try and learn as much from him as you can. It will only make you a better fighter in the long run.”

She lifted her chin in defiance. “I’m a better shot than he is. He told me so.”

“Ah, yes, well, it would appear that guns are not Mr. Randolph’s favored method of execution,” Colin said. “He tends to coordinate his battles a little more…intimately.”

Remembering his word choice from that morning—unorthodox, he’d called Jason—sparked a whole new whirlwind of questions. However, Colin seemed to be done with the matter, turning away and heading for his workbench in the back of the room.

“Tell Nan I’ll be having my tea out here,” he instructed. “I’ve got work to be done tonight.”

She had to bite her tongue not to argue with him on the spot; she knew it would be a pointless endeavor. Still, the one question that nagged at her the strongest tumbled from her lips before she could stop it.

“Why do you trust him so much?” she asked. To her annoyance, her voice had taken on that little girl pleading tone that she detested, but her father had a way of provoking it in her.

The corner of Colin’s mouth lifted, his eyes soft and sad. “Because, in spite of what he might say to the contrary, he’s here to do what he can to save your life, lassie. When it comes to protecting my greatest treasure, I want a man like Jason Randolph on my side.” He nodded toward the door behind her. “Now, go. Your nan will be wanting you to set the table for tea. Just because I won’t be joining you, doesn’t mean I’ll have you acting uncivilized around our guest.”

She turned on her heel and, unbolting the door, ran away, letting the door slam shut behind her. There was nothing left for her to say.