The Phoenix (10 page)

He mentally recoiled at the thought, his anger detonating once more. Since he was likely going to get fired anyhow he saw no reason to hold his tongue. Not that he would have been able to do so, anyway, but…

He flicked a match against his finger, watched the tip ignite. “Look, Payne, I realize that I am low man on the totem pole here and that puts me at the bottom of the pecking order, but sending me over here blind when she was armed with everything in my friggin’ file was
not
cool. I don’t mind having to work around her—that’s part of the nature of this particular assignment. What I do mind is her knowing everything from where I went to high school to my blood pressure reading on my last health exam and no one warning me about her.” He blew out the flame before it could burn his fingers. “It’s bullshit and bad form and I damned sure don’t appreciate it.”

He should probably quit before they fired him, Jay thought. That would be better than getting sacked, but leaving the military had felt too much like quitting, and the idea of this not panning out as well was damned difficult to stomach.

“You are absolutely right,” Payne said, to his immense surprise. “I take full responsibility. It was my mistake. Guy actually suggested giving you a warning, but I failed to consider that she’d looked at your file when she hacked into our system and I didn’t think that it was strictly necessary. Mea culpa, Jay. I’m terribly sorry.”

While he was still exceedingly annoyed, it was hard to cling to his anger when faced with such a sincere apology. Particularly one issued from the Specialist. “I’m assuming the security breach has been rectified?” he asked.

“It was once she brought it to our attention.”

He processed that, his mind sharpening into better focus. “You didn’t know she’d been in until she told you?”

“No,” Payne admitted. “She was careful.”

Careful, hell. She was damned good. Hacking was one thing—hacking without leaving a discernable trail or evidence was another. That took a very advanced degree of skill. And nerve. “I’m going to want to see that file, Payne. I need to know what she knows.”

“Understandable. I’ll forward it right away.”

Jay passed a weary hand over his face. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

“Listen,” Payne said. “I know that she was disappointed that we hired you instead of her, but ultimately we all agreed that you were the better candidate for the job. She’s impressive, I’ll admit that, but—”

Jay stilled like a hound going on point. “What do you mean ‘hired me instead of her’? You mean she applied for the position that I’ve got?”

“Yes,” Payne said, sounding a bit baffled. “I thought that’s what—”

“Oh,” Jay said, his voice dissolving into a dark laugh. “Oh, oh, ohhh.
That’s
why it’s personal with her,” he marveled aloud. “
That’s
why she’s been smirking at me since the moment I arrived.”

Payne chuckled. “I take it when she was divulging the information she’d gleaned from your file she failed to mention that she’d actually applied for a job here?”

“Correct,” he said, smiling, giving his head a shake. “She neglected to share that little tidbit.”

“Well, I’m glad that I was able to enlighten you of that much, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of her résumé, would you?”

“I do, along with the background check that we ran on her after she came in.”

Jay considered that. While his initial impulse was to ask for the additional file as well, ultimately…he did not. He didn’t know why he was willing to offer her the privacy she hadn’t afforded him, because, had she been a man, he had every certainty that he wouldn’t have.

But she wasn’t a man.

As he well knew.

And thank God, given his ridiculously insane preoccupation with her. It was unnerving. Every sensation, feeling, inclination was heightened when it came to Charlie. He wasn’t just intrigued with her—he was fascinated. He wasn’t just attracted to her—he was drawn, compelled even. She didn’t just annoy him—she infuriated him.

No doubt that was why he’d wigged out over her looking at his file, at her potentially reviewing the events leading up to his departure from the military. Though he imagined that the gentlemen at Ranger Security were aware of the accident—and that he’d walked away unscathed—he, for reasons that escaped him, didn’t want
her
to know about it.

It was too personal and his own feelings about what should have been a blessing were too convoluted in his own mind to consider discussing them with anyone else. One question would lead to another and eventually he’d wind up in territory he didn’t want to explore.

“Just send me the résumé,” Jay finally told Payne.

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t need her life story. I just need to know what she’s capable of.”

“Sometimes the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

That was a good point, but it didn’t change his mind. He merely chuckled. “She’s definitely going to be a thorn in my side.”

“And a perpetual pain in your ass until this is over,” Payne said. Jay frowned. Was that a hint of admiration he heard in his boss’s voice?

“What did you think of her?” Jay asked him, interested in his new boss’s opinion of his newly acquired nemesis.

“I liked her,” Payne said without preamble. “She’s ballsy. She knew before she came in the door that we were going to turn her down, but she tried anyway. That takes guts.”

So did hacking into their system, but he didn’t think it prudent to remind Payne of that.

“You’ll see her résumé. She’s a former detective—a good one, based on reviews and recommendations—and, though she’s small, she’s a fighter. She teaches self-defense classes at several local colleges and battered women’s shelters.”

“Self-defense?”

“She’s got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do,” Payne explained. “Juan Carlos took one of her classes. He owed her a favor and brought her in for the interview.”

Jay felt a line emerge between his brows. “Without your consent?”

An infinitesimal pause, but Jay caught it. “He was reprimanded.”

Left in the dark again, Jay thought, renewed irritation spiking his blood pressure.

“I realize that I’m being purposely vague,” Payne said, “but it’s not my story to tell.”

Ah.
Well, at least that explained Juan Carlos’s distinctly chilly welcome this morning. Had it only been this morning? Jay thought, disturbed. It already felt like a lifetime ago. For reasons that escaped him, he imagined that was Charlie Martin’s fault. He knew a moment of bizarre premonition, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that meeting her had marked a new era in his life, a before and after more significant even than his recent career change.

The thought jarred him, forcing him to dismiss it as melodramatic bullshit. Sheesh. He was losing his damned mind. He’d never been prone to any sort of bullshit, least of all the melodramatic variety.

It was
her,
Jay concluded.
She
was doing this to him.

“Why didn’t you hire her?” he asked.

“Because you were better qualified.”

And she wasn’t a Ranger, Jay silently added. As far as he knew, the triumvirate—damn Juan Carlos for sticking that moniker in his head—hadn’t hired anyone for field work other than former Rangers. In many ways he understood that. As Rangers themselves, McCann, Flanagan and Payne were aware of the training, the attention to detail, the skills and the mental agility required to get to that elite level of warrior status. Former Rangers were a known quantity with brotherhood-like bonds, ties that were formed on the battlefield, cemented with same experiences and, more often than not, baptized in some sort of blood.

Granted, Charlie Martin wasn’t a former Ranger, but from what he could see, she would have brought an entirely different set of expertise to the Ranger Security staff. His lips quirked. No doubt her hacking skills would have come in handy. If she’d been made detective, then she’d worked her way up in the police force relatively quickly, seen the darker side of humanity. And, while she was small, those Tae Kwon Do skills meant that she knew how to protect herself. That took discipline. He found himself reluctantly impressed.

As far as he could see, the only thing that had made him better qualified for the job was his military service, and, admittedly, that was by a narrow margin given her other skills. He knew his way around a computer well enough, but slinging code was a whole different skill set. It took a thoroughly organized—and in her case, slightly diabolical—mind.

And given the fact that they’d hired him instead of her, she was highly motivated to defeat him. A thrill of anticipation pushed adrenaline into his system, engaging his battle senses.

All right then, Kitty-Cat,
Jay thought.
Game on.

7

SMOKEY BURKHART HAD managed to live to the ripe old age of sixty-eight before falling in love.

He could honestly say he didn’t much care for it.

He laid another log on the fire, then poked the coals around until the blaze stoked up again, licking the split timbers, curling around the bark. His Ms. Aggie enjoyed a fire. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever met another woman who liked one as much. She loved the scent of wood smoke, she’d once told him. Said it reminded her of her childhood in the Carolina hills.

Now it would forever remind him of her.

Over the years he’d heard love described in many different ways. He’d heard that it bloomed slowly, like a spring bud beneath the sun. That it had been instantaneous, a single inexplicable look and
bam!
Done. He’d heard about varying degrees of both, sometimes a combination of the two, but he’d never understood how a chance meeting or prolonged exposure to the same person could result in an affection that would render one essentially dependent on another for basic happiness.

He still couldn’t explain it, but couldn’t deny its existence anymore either.

She’d
done that to him.

With a mere smile.

When he was feeling fanciful, which gallingly was happening more and more often, he imagined that the curve of her smile had hooked his heart and her laugh had literally reeled him in. By the time their initial interview was over he’d been leaning closer and closer to her, that was for damned sure, as though his body needed to be as near to hers as possible.

In truth, he hadn’t required a job at all. He’d worked in forestry and conservation for the National Park Service for the better part of thirty years. The pay hadn’t been anything to write home about, really, but the benefits were quite good and he’d invested well. It had been a job he’d enjoyed, one that had fulfilled him. He’d seen the absolute best the country had to offer, in parts that few others had ever been.

Though he probably could have stayed on another few years, he’d decided after a too-close call with a momma bear—one that had left him with a foot-long set of scars across his back and a shoulder that still ached—to leave it to the younger guys. To this day he still couldn’t believe he’d missed her, that he’d made such a stupid, rookie mistake.

Water under the bridge.

He’d applied for this job purely out of boredom. A man could only tie so many fishing lures, and after a year of camping across the U.S. and another year putting the finishing touches on his cabin, he’d decided that he wasn’t meant to be idle. Given the choice of greeting people at a local big-box store or being a well-dressed jack-of-all-trades at the Betterworth estate, he’d chosen the latter. He grunted under his breath.

As if he’d had a choice after meeting Ms. Aggie.

“Oh,” the object of his torment breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. “I didn’t realize you were still in here.”

He hadn’t meant to be. Typically, he tended her fire and then got the hell out of her room. The scent of her perfume hung in the air—honeysuckle and lavender (he’d checked)—and made him want to sniff the curve of her jaw, nuzzle the side of her neck. She was dressed for bed, a red chiffon gown that hung to her feet, the matching bed jacket across her shoulders. It was feminine and prim and proper—nothing remotely risqué—and yet the blood raced to his groin faster than a fox on a hare, and his mouth went bone-dry.