A Warrior For Her (The Warrior Series Book 2) - Brooke Campbell

A Sapphic Fantasy Novel

A Warrior For Her (The Warrior Series Book 2) by Brooke Campbell

Book excerpt

“There’s my Little Duck! Louis told me all about your troubles this weekend. You poor little soul. Those vampire try, but they ain’t me. Now, come on in my house and let me take good care of you.” Charlene bustles over to me from the stove, a tall, steaming to-go mug in one hand. She hands me the shiny mug and the coffee aroma hits me when I wrap my fingers around it. I nearly groan with happiness when I take a large sip. Charlene and Jo laugh. Charlene looks me up and down and nods her head once, as if satisfied with what she sees. “Little Duck, I fixed you a yogurt parfait like we talked about for your breakfast. And I already made up a box lunch so you don’t have to worry about that.” She pats my shoulder.

I don’t know if she’s a hugger or not, so I just smile at her. “Charlene, the food sounds wonderful, but you don’t have to keep making my lunch. I can swing by my apartment and make something.”

She stiffens her spine and raises herself to her full height—which is an inch or two below mine. Charlene braces her hands on her ample hips. Her lightly salted shiny black waves tremble with indignation. “Are you trying to tell me my lunch is not to your standards, young lady?”

I start backtracking immediately. “Gah, no, Charlene, I didn’t mean to imply, oh my gosh Charlene, you make the best lunches ever! I mean better than my Dad makes, even. Though please, if you meet him don’t tell him I said that!”

Charlene and Jo are laughing before I finish. “Chérie, I believe Chef was having a bit of fun at your expense.”

“Oh, har, har, har. Very funny.” But I laugh, too.

“Little Duck, you should have seen your face. I’m sorry, child, but I just couldn’t resist. Look here, though. The truth is if you are even a little bit human in my house, I feed you. I know you have food at home and if you are afraid of it going bad, you just let somebody know and we will take care of it. You have enough on your plate, Libby. Your little body has been through so much. Let me do what I can. Please.”

I blink away sudden tears brought on by her words with effort. I have to work to swallow. She lays her hand along my cheek, and I close my eyes to savor the emotion this motherly gesture causes.

“Oh, come here Little Duck.” Charlene wraps me in a warm bear hug, and I squeeze her tightly right back. Guess she’s a hugger, too.

“Thanks, Charlene.”

Humming a jaunty tune, Charlene bustles back to her pots on the stove and Jo lays her arm across my shoulders. “Let us sit, chérie.” When we settle, I take another long swig of coffee. It’s just the way I like it, and I nearly sigh with pleasure. “Charlene is a nurturer. It is why I insist on her being called Chef. I do not want anyone to take her professional skills and position for granted because of her natural urge to mother those around her. I am pleased you are experiencing this side of her, though.”

Not having had much of a mother myself, I always appreciate nurturing no matter the source.

Apparently, our morning activity stimulated my hunger because I finish the parfait before I even realize it. I start to get up to take the dish to the sink, but Jo gently tugs me back down. Ryan approaches, looking apologetic. “Sorry Miss Libby. Chef would have my hide if I let you put your own dishes in the sink.”

“Good morning, Ryan. I understand. Thank you.” I give him a smile and turn my attention to Jo. Oh goddess. She wears men’s clothes better than most men do. I turn to the sound of laughter before I get my words out.

“That she does, luv!” Eyes twinkling, Niall walks to our table. When Jo raises her eyebrows at him, he must communicate to her what I thought, because a second later she laughs and wraps her arm around me. She nuzzles my neck, which sends delicious shivers scattering. “Right. If you two are going to snog, I may have to take my draught somewhere else.”

Just then Charlene bustles over with two tall, dark, unlabeled bottles. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume they were porter or stout bottles. She sets one in front of Niall, and one in front of Jo. Jo releases me and straightens up. “Little Duck, let me get some more coffee so that you can take it with you.”

“That would be great, thank you.” I hand her my nearly empty travel mug with a grateful smile. “Niall, I haven’t seen you lately. How have you been?”

He puts down his bottle and when he opens his mouth, I have to look away. I focus on my fingernails to blot out his reddened eyes. I wasn’t prepared to see his fangs distended, edged in blood, either, and I’m almost sorry I engaged him in conversation.

“I’ve been that busy with work I haven’t had time to visit, luv. And sorry I am to admit it. That sodding accounting department is going to be the end of me if we don’t do something about them soon.”

“Oh, we will be taking care of that department very soon. How close are you to uncovering the culprit?” I studiously avoid looking at Jo as she talks, too. On one level I’m grateful they feel comfortable enough with me to feed in front of me. But on the other hand…my heart starts racing. François’ teeth coated in my blood flashes in front of my eyes. Gah! I don’t want to feel this way. I breathe deliberately through my nose in an attempt to slow my heart down. I focus on Niall’s voice which also helps, and I regain my composure. Mostly.

“…and I read Thatcher’s reports. I don’t know how that one was able to be here all these years without any of us knowing about it.” He gestures to me and it takes me a minute to realize he’s not talking about me, but referring to Mr. O’Shea, who they discovered through me. “Truthfully, I’m not convinced that he’s behind the embezzlement. If he’s been lurking around all this time—why would he attack now? Mind, I’m not ruling out the possibility, but it could be anyone at this point, really. At the very least, most of the department must have suspected foul play and not a one of them spoke up. I tell you, I’m tempted to hang the lot of them out to dry. Sodding wankers. I may not know who’s behind it yet, but mind my word – when I do, woe to them.”

I sneak a quick glance at Jo, sliding my gaze away from her glistening bloody fangs. “He’s right, you know. Why would Mr. O’Shea come after your money? He has plenty of it. He can’t be behind this.”

“You do not know what you are talking about. It is not about the money.”

Excuse me? I sputter, so shocked I’m not even sure what to say.

Niall breaks the tension with a laugh. “Speak for yourself, mate!”

But Jo isn’t mollified. She slams her bottle down so hard the sound hurts my ears and I jerk. Incredulous, I look for chips in the glass and see splashes of blood on the table. What the heck? Why is she so angry all of a sudden? My ears heat with my growing ire.

“Fine. Perhaps it is not wholly about the money. But this is just the kind of thing fae do to cause trouble. I would not put it past him.”

Now that’s a gross generalization if I ever heard one. Indignant, I rise to Mr. O’Shea’s defense. “How can you say that? You don’t even know him! I do. And, believe me, he would never do something like this. He just wouldn’t.”

Jo turns to me, her red eyes cold. I shiver despite my pique. “Do not speak of things you know nothing about. I know fae. He may have you fooled, but his true colors will show. They always do. Whether he is behind this or not, he is still a fae. I would be doing us all a favor if I killed him.”

My mouth is hanging open in shock when Ryan squeaks, “Um, Miss Libby, here’s your coffee, ma’am.”

Numbly, I take the coffee. “Thank you, Ryan.” It’s bad enough she’s being so condescending, but I’m stunned by her blind prejudice. I wrap my cold fingers around the mug and turn to Niall as Ryan walks away. “Is this the way you feel, too?”

“Luv, if you knew what I know, if you’d seen what I have, aye, you’d feel this way, too, were he a friend or no.”

Jo’s already red eyes flash brighter with triumph. “Chérie, I would not expect you to understand.”

What the… Could she be more patronizing? I’m so…I don’t even know what I am. I take a deep swig of coffee, forgetting it is steaming hot. My eyes water but I manage to swallow it. Niall chuckles but studiously avoids my eyes. Smart man. I glower at him anyway. He and Jo exchange such a long, intense look, I know they are communicating. I wish I knew what they were saying.

Jo straightens and looks away from both of us, tipping the bottle to drain it. He studies her another long minute before turning to me.

“Luv, I hear you had a bad night.”

I stare dumbly at him. Totally didn’t see that coming. Did I miss something? What? Are you going to insult me, now, too?

Niall’s eyes and teeth back to normal, his lips lift in a sympathetic smile. “I’ve known many a soldier to wake screaming in the night, long after the battles are done, certain the enemy has stormed in. Sure, and they shouldn’t feel embarrassed, am I right?” Astonished, I nod slowly. “That’s our Libby.” He knocks back the bottle and smacking his lips, tosses the empty vessel into the air, catching it neatly and settling it back on the table. “Right then. That’s me off to find a bloody thief.” He winks at me as he stands and mock salutes Jo.

“Good luck!” I call after him. Please find a way to prove Mr. O’Shea’s innocence.

Uncharacteristically, Jo toys with her own bottle. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about before we head our separate ways, chérie.”

Niall’s words certainly calmed me, but I’m not ready to let her behavior go. Watching her roll the edge of the bottle back and forth leaves me wondering if she knows. “What?”

However, when she turns to me, Jo’s face appears unfazed by anything. “Louis tells me that in a day or two, Dex will be back to fighting strength. Do you still want him on your team?”

Fine. If she can pretend as if nothing is wrong, so can I. “Yes, of course I want to work with Dex again. But I guess he can’t work alone?” Dex’s previous partner Beatrice is leaving once she recovers from her injuries. I count her as more than a bodyguard. She’s my friend and I already miss her acutely.

Her eyes flash but her voice remains steady. “No, chérie, he cannot. Thatcher would never allow it even if I consented. This evening, he will have several candidates for you to meet. Since it is decided that you will have 24-hour protection, we will allow you to choose those who guard you. Please remember that friendship is not priority, though it is a happy accident if it happens.”

Wow. I don’t know what the heck is wrong with her, but she’s batting a thousand this morning. I maintain eye contact though I’m more than a little insulted. Again. “Got it. You can trust me.”

Now Jo looks offended, and I stop myself from rolling my eyes, though just barely. Pa-leeze. “Of course I trust you, chérie. That was never a question. Any of the candidates are perfectly acceptable. You have only to choose.” She stands gracefully and offers her hand to help me up. After a beat I put my hand in hers. “So. Let us go to work now. If you need anything, at any time, say the word.” Jo leans down and kisses me on both cheeks, then plants a fast kiss on my lips before she disappears through the door.

I’m still shaking my head as Ryan meets me with my lunch and I wave goodbye to Charlene, who is hustling to the table in front of the massive stove loaded with items she just got out of the fridge. I juggle my purse, coffee, and lunch and nod at Stan when he opens the door for me. The duo falls in behind me until we reach the outer door. Vic opens this one and I walk out to the expensive navy Jeep idling beside an armored black SUV.

I sigh inwardly.

Maybe, just maybe I will have a nice little car that I can drive all by myself again one day.

Book Details

AUTHOR NAME: Brooke Campbell

BOOK TITLE: A Warrior For Her (The Warrior Series Book 2)

GENRE: Fantasy

SUBGENRE: Paranormal Vampire Romance / LGBT Urban Fantasy

PAGE COUNT: 304