Page 2 of Eden and her Mercenary (Changing of the Guards)

Royal O'Toole

I was just twenty minutes away from home, and all I could think about was collapsing onto my bed as soon as I arrived.

For the past five days, I've been driving from Vancouver to Pearl Lake, only pausing for bathroom breaks and to catch a few hours of sleep. Which I should be doing now, but man, in an hour and a half I’ll be home.

The GPS indicated another hour to Pearl Lake. I'd make it before midnight if—

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

A van—some beat-up cargo model—careened out of a hidden driveway, cutting across my lane so close I had to swerve onto the shoulder.

My truck fishtailed, tires spraying gravel as I fought to regain control.

For one heart-stopping moment, I thought I might flip, but the Ford's weight settled back onto all four wheels with a bone-jarring thud.

The van didn't even slow down, just accelerated down the highway like a bat out of hell.

"Oh, hell no!" I slammed my foot on the gas, the truck's engine roaring as I pulled back onto the road. "You don't get to nearly kill me and just drive away."

I kept the van in sight, following at a distance as it weaved recklessly between the sparse traffic. The driver was either drunk, high, or running from something. Given my line of work, I'd put money on the latter. Normal people don't drive like that unless they're desperate.

The van took an abrupt exit toward a small town whose name I didn't catch on the sign that flashed past. I followed, keeping a distance but never losing sight of those rusted rear doors.

Main Street was practically deserted—a few storefronts with faded awnings, a diner with a flickering neon sign, and at the edge of town, a motel that had seen better days.

The Sleepy Pine, according to the sign, though at least three letters weren't lighting up properly.

The van swung into the motel parking lot, taking the turn so sharply I swore it went up on two wheels. I pulled in after it, parking a few spaces away as the driver killed the engine and out stepped a slim brunette woman.

She moved with urgency, yanking open the side door of the van and leaning in. I couldn't see what she was doing, but something about her movements struck me as frantic rather than intoxicated.

I killed my engine and stepped out, the cool night air hitting my face. "Hey!" I called out, striding toward her. "You nearly ran me off the road back there!"

She whipped around, and I froze mid-step. Her hand was wrapped around the grip of a revolver, that she stuck in my face,

"Back off," she warned, her voice steady despite the wild look in her eyes. "I don't have time for this."

I raised my hands slowly. "Whoa, easy. I'm not looking for trouble."

"Then get back in your truck and drive away." Her gaze flicked past me, scanning the empty parking lot. She was definitely running from something—or someone.

That's when I heard it—a soft whine coming from inside the van. She tensed at the sound, shifting her body to block my view.

"Are you transporting a dog?" I asked, lowering my hands slightly.

Surprise flickered across her face before she masked it. "What's it to you? "

"Nothing. Just... I like dogs, and you drive like an idiot.”

Her eyes narrowed, skepticism clear on her face. "Right. You followed me into a motel parking lot at night because you 'like dogs.' " Her grip on the revolver tightened.

"Look, I followed you because you almost killed me back there. Now I'm wondering what's got you so spooked that you're driving like you've got the devil on your tail." I took a careful step forward. "Maybe I can help."

She barked out a laugh. "Help? Unless you can make two armed men disappear, I doubt it."

That got my attention. "Armed men?"

A dog barked from inside the van—deep and throaty—followed by several others joining in. The woman glanced nervously over her shoulder. "I need to get these dogs inside. They've been cooped up too long."

"Let me help," I offered, taking another cautious step. "I'm Royal, by the way."

"Eden," she replied automatically, then immediately looked like she regretted giving me her name. "And no thanks. I've got it covered."

A pair of headlights swept across the parking lot entrance, and Eden dropped into a crouch, pulling me down with surprising strength .

"Get down!" she hissed.

I peered over the hood of her van. A black SUV with a dented front bumper crawled past the motel entrance, its driver scanning the parking lot. Even from this distance, I could make out the distinctive outline of a shotgun resting across the passenger's lap.

"Friends of yours?" I whispered.

"They want one of my dogs." Eden's voice was hard. "A pit bull mix named Stella."

The SUV continued down the road, disappearing around a bend.

"Okay," I said, making a decision. "Get your dogs. My place is about an hour from here, off-grid. No one will find you there tonight."

Eden stared at me, suspicion warring with the desperation in her eyes. "Why would you help me?"

I thought about the scars on my own back, the ones my stepfather had given me before I was big enough to fight back. "Let's just say I've got a thing about bullies."

She studied me for a long moment before nodding once. "I'll follow you. But I'm keeping my gun handy, and if this is some kind of trap—"

"It's not," I assured her. "I promise."

∞∞ ∞

Fifty minutes later, we were winding up a forest service road, my truck leading her van deeper into the pine-covered hills. The cabin had been my sanctuary since the MacGallan’s moved to Pearl Lake—a place I had bought when Ryker decided to stay in B.C.

I pulled up to the small log structure, killing the lights quickly. Eden parked beside me, and I could see her surveying the place through her windshield—taking in the solar panels on the roof, the generator shed, and the lack of neighboring properties.

"Home sweet home,” I said, gesturing toward the cabin. "It's not much, but it's secure."

Eden climbed out of her van, eyes constantly scanning the treeline. "I need to get the dogs out. They've been in their crates too long."

"The back yard is fenced in," I told her, heading for the cabin door. "I installed it to keep the deer away from my garden."

The interior of the cabin was dark and cool, smelling faintly of pine and wood smoke. I flipped on the generator with a switch by the door, and soft lights illuminated the room. It wasn't fancy—a worn leather couch, a woodstove, a small kitchen area, and a loft bedroom overhead—but it was mine.

Eden appeared in the doorway, the trembling pit bull in her arms. "Where's this fenced area?"

I led her through the back door to the yard. It wasn't huge, but it was big enough for all the dogs to run around. And it was secure—a six-foot chain link with no gaps underneath. I took Stella from her and carried her down the deck stairs then set her down gently on the grass.

"I'll get the others," she said, hurrying back to the van.

“I’ll help.”

“Will she be okay out here alone?” A worried frown settled on her face.

“She will be fine. I promise,” I said, guiding her towards the side gate.

We took three dogs each, and all were chomping at the bit to get into the yard.

Once secured within the fence, all were taken off leash and each one sniffed around eagerly, relieved to stretch their legs after being confined for so long.

All except Stella, who stayed close to Eden's side, watching me with wary eyes.

"What's her story?" I asked, nodding toward the pit bull.

Eden sighed, running a hand through her tangled blonde hair. "I don't know exactly. The rescue coordinator called me in the middle of the night, said Stella needed to disappear." She glanced down at the dog. "Based on her scars and behavior, I'm guessing she was used for fighting. "

I raised my brows. "And someone wants her back badly enough to send men after you?"

She nodded. “But there's something else going on. These guys aren't just some backyard dogfighters. They're too professional."

I watched as Stella finally ventured a few steps away from Eden, sniffing cautiously at a patch of clover. "My brother and I have… connections.”

"No police," Eden cut me off sharply. "Not until I know what's really going on."

I laughed. “Oh no, they aren’t the police, far from it.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Who exactly are you, Royal?" Her hand drifted back toward her revolver.

I held up my hands again. "Me and my brother are retired mercenaries. Now we just hire out our services. Just got done doing a job for the Irish mob."

Eden's hand immediately went to her gun, pulling it out and aiming it directly at my chest. Her eyes hardened as she took a defensive stance.

"Irish mob? Are you fucking kidding me?" Her finger hovered over the trigger. "So, what— you're going to ransom me and the dogs now? Is that your play?"

I slowly raised my hands higher. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have brought you to my personal cabin." I kept my voice steady. "And I definitely wouldn't have told you about my connections."

Stella growled low in her throat, sensing Eden's tension. The other dogs stopped their exploring, alert to the sudden shift in the air.

"Put the gun down, Eden. I'm not your enemy here." I took a cautious step forward. "My brother Ryker and I provide protection for certain people. It's a job. Doesn't mean I agree with everything they do."

"Why should I trust you?" She didn't lower the weapon.

"Because right now, I'm all you've got." I nodded toward the dark forest surrounding us. "Those men are still out there. And I’m guessing they're not stopping until they get what they want."

A tense silence stretched between us. Finally, she lowered the gun slightly.

"Start talking. Who exactly do you work for?"

"Ourselves. But most recently it was the MacGallan family. They run legitimate and not-so-legitimate businesses in Toronto and the greater Toronto area." I watched her face carefully. "But I've got my own code. I don't hurt innocents, and I sure as hell don't hurt animals."

She studied me for a long time before tucking the revolver back into her waistband. "Fine. But I'm keeping this close."

I nodded. "Fair enough. Now let's get inside and figure out who's after your dog."

In the cabin, Eden sat on the edge of the couch, her back rigid, while I made coffee. Stella lay at her feet, her eyes tracking my every move. The other dogs remained outside in the enclosure, content with the fresh air and space.

"So, these men," I said, handing her a steaming mug. "What did they look like? Any distinctive features, tattoos, accents?"

Eden wrapped her hands around the mug. "Two men. One big, built like a linebacker. The other skinny and wiry. Both white. No visible tattoos that I could see." She took a sip. "The bigger one seemed to be in charge. They drove a black SUV with Ontario plates, all I could make out was brDT 1."

I pulled out my phone. "Mind if I make a call?"

She tensed again. "To who?"

"My brother. He's got contacts in law enforcement who can run those plates without raising flags."

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.

Ryker answered on the second ring. "You better be calling to tell me you're bringing breakfast tomorrow."