The Professional (15 page)
Authors: Rhonda Nelson
Jeb swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “I know all of your secrets,” he said. “It’s only fair that you know one of mine.”
14
S
OPHIE
STILLED
,
then turned to look at Jeb. “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “You haven’t found out anything that I wouldn’t have eventually confided. It would have taken more time, because it’s painful, but I would have told you.”
His gaze searched hers. “I want to tell you. I
need
to tell someone,” he said, his voice strained. He hesitated. “You pegged it when you said you didn’t know how I ever stood being in the military because I liked being in control. It was a struggle, I’ll admit. But I liked the sense that what I was doing made a difference, that I was part of something bigger than myself, that I was doing my bit for Uncle Sam.”
“I can understand that,” she said, snuggling in closer to his side. She loved the way he felt next to her, as if this niche inside his arms had been made expressly for her.
“I’ve always had good instincts and, when I’ve followed them, they’ve never let me down. Not once.”
She had a terrible suspicion she knew where this was going.
“Six months ago I took a team into Mosul. I felt like something was off, wrong, and that I didn’t need to move forward.” He paused, his gaze turning inward. “I conveyed my feelings to my commanding officer, who was sitting safely back at base, maneuvering us like pieces of a chess board. He told me to press on. To follow orders.”
Ah, Sophie thought. She’d been wrong. His instincts had been right, not wrong. And he’d ignored them.
“I did,” he said. “And even though I led my men in, when the bullets started flying, I was the only one who survived.”
Sophie’s heart squeezed and she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Oh, Jeb, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s why I came out,” he said. “That’s why I pulled the plug on my career and found a new one. I decided that I was never going to follow another order that put me at odds with what I felt was right.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said. “You were on the ground, in front, in the line of fire. That officer should have listened to you. Should have trusted your instincts.” She grimaced. “No wonder you couldn’t stay,” she said. “How could you after your commanding officer showed so little confidence in you? Especially since ignoring your expertise resulted in the death of your friends.”
He turned to look at her, that wondering expression on his face once again, the one that said she’d just taken another peek inside of his head and he’d been unprepared for it. “That’s unnerving,” he said. “You…get me, you know it? You really do.”
Sophie grinned. “Do you know what I’d like to do right now, soldier?” she asked, arching playful brow.
He chuckled low. “What?”
“Get
on
you.”
* * *
“I
CAN
’
T
TAKE
this waiting,” Jeb told Payne days later. “And it’s wearing on Sophie’s nerves too. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder and is taking a pistol with her everywhere she goes.” He blew out a breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m sick of it. Sick of watching her suffer.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go scare the hell out of them,” Jeb said. “I’m going to frighten them so terribly and threaten them so thoroughly that they’ll never look cross-eyed at her again, much less violate the protection agreement.”
At this point, the issue of Sophie’s family was common knowledge, as were Jeb’s feelings for her. He’d known the first day that she’d walked into the diner that she was special. He’d felt it in his gut.
She was it.
His.
“Wait for us,” Payne told him. “I’ll get Jamie and Guy and we’ll be there in less than half an hour. No point in going in alone and, between the three of us, I think we’d make a formidable team.”
Touched, Jeb swallowed. He wouldn’t have asked, but sincerely appreciated the offer. Had Judd been here, Jeb knew his little brother would have had his back. It was heartening to see that these men would, too.
“Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
Thirty minutes later, dressed in black swat outfits and packing enough artillery to level a small town, the four of them burst into Sophie’s family’s dingy motel room and went Special Ops on their ass.
Her father had scrambled from the bed and curled into a ball against the wall, her brother had literally pissed himself and her mother had screamed like a wild woman and launched herself at Payne, who’d held up his gun and coolly informed her that it had been awhile since he’d gotten to shoot someone and she’d do as good as anybody.
“Leave immediately,” Jeb had told them. “Don’t call her, don’t send her any letters, don’t look at her, don’t come within a hundred miles of her. Stay the hell away from her, or make no mistake, I’ll hurt you.” He meant it. “And believe me, I know how. I can make you feel pain you’ve never imagined in your worst nightmares. Do you understand?”
“Fine,” her father snarled. “The bitch isn’t worth it.”
Jeb drew back and slammed his fist into his jaw, knocking him out cold. “Don’t you talk about my future wife like that,” he said.
The four of them sat in the parking lot and waited for the three to load up their stuff and leave. Looking appropriately frightened, they had, spinning gravel as they aimed their car away from her farm.
“You’re going to marry her, huh?” Jamie asked, stuffing a snack cake into his mouth.
“What?”
“In there,” he said. “You told her father not to talk about your future wife like that.”
He blinked. “I did?”
The three of them chuckled and shook their heads. “You did. Sounds like a Freudian slip, doesn’t it, boys?” Guy remarked.
Payne arched a brow. “Do you want to marry her?”
Jeb felt a bemused smile slip over his mouth, tugging the corners of his lips. He did. Sweet heaven…he did. He laughed, shook his head. “Yes, I do.”
“Well, get on with it then,” he said. “Didn’t that group host a ball in less than twenty-four hours? A wedding is even more romantic. I’ll wager they could pull one of those together in half that time.”
A spark of an idea formed and he nodded, feeling the rightness of it settle over him.
“I’ve got to go,” he announced, pushing from Payne’s car and heading to his own.
“I imagine you do,” Jamie called out. “Let us know when and where and we’ll be there.”
Jeb grinned. “You got it,” he said. “And brace yourselves, boys, cause these senior citizens know how to party.”
* * *
“S
OPHIE
,
SOMEONE
’
S
HERE
to see you,” Carl called.
She frowned and checked her appointment book. She didn’t have anyone down. How could she have missed…?
Jeb ducked into her massage room and smiled when he spotted her. “Hey,” he said. “You owe me a working over, remember?”
She chuckled softly. “I seem to recall something like that. Get undressed and get on the table.”
He did, revealing the body she’d come to think of as hers, the glorious muscles, the sleek skin. Her living playground. She warmed the oil and dropped it on his chest, then swirled it over his slickened skin.
He groaned. “Oh, that feels good. You really know what you’re doing.”
“Did you ever doubt it?” she asked, smiling as her heart rate tripped into over-drive. Her breasts grew heavy with want, hungering for his touch. Her womb flooded with a familiar heat and soaked into her panties, readying for him.
“You know what would make this massage even better?” he asked.
She bit her lip, trailing her fingers down the front of his thighs, watching his dick leap to attention.
Hers
, she thought.
All hers
.
“What would make it better, Jeb?”
She took him in hand, had the pleasure of watching his back come off the table, a hiss of pleasure move between his clenched teeth.
“If you’d get naked and get up on this table…and slide around on top of me.”
Unable to resist him, Sophie did just that. She threaded her fingers through his, frowning when something didn’t feel right. She drew back.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked, staring at the bruised knuckles.
“It ran into your father,” he said, his gaze searching hers. “They’re gone, Sophie. And they’re never coming back. Ever.”
Her heart skipped a beat and she blinked, confused. “What?” she breathed.
“Me, Payne, McCann and Jamie went over to the motel and explained things to them,” he said. “They could leave and never bother you again, or we were going to show them what would happen if they didn’t.” He cracked his knuckles and grinned.
“What?”
“It wouldn’t have come to that, but as bluffs go, it worked well. Bullies only respond to force. We were forceful.”
Her chest squeezed and emotion clogged her throat. “You did that for me?”
“I would do that and a whole lot more for lesser reasons,” he said.
She melted, resting her forehead against his. “How am I supposed to resist you when you say things like that?” she asked helplessly.
He drew back, smiling. “I didn’t know you were trying to resist me.”
“Well, not very hard, I’ll admit,” she said, “but I should be trying. I shouldn’t be so damned easy.”
“Why the hell not?” He grabbed her bare rump, lifted and pushed up into her, making her eyes roll back in her head. “It’s working brilliantly for me,” he said. “God, you feel good. I feel like I’m going to die every time we’re together like this and still, I look forward to it.”
She tightened around him, leaned back and put her hands on his chest, undulating her hips. His big hands anchored either side of her waist and he pushed up, meeting her as she rode him, catching her rhythm and going with her for the ride. He leaned forward, pulled a nipple into his mouth. “Marry me,” he said, thrusting harder.
She started, certain she’d misunderstood him, felt the flash of impended release boiling up inside her. “Marry me, Sophie,” he repeated, his voice raw, desperate. “I need you.” He bit back a curse, then groaned as she clenched around him once more. “Marry me. Please. I love you.”
She came, hard. Her neck went boneless, too weak to support her head, and a long cry of release ripped from her throat, happiness permeating every cell.
Her release triggered his and he joined her there, his glorious body quaking beneath hers. “Marry me,” he repeated, those blue eyes beseeching. “Say yes. Be mine.”
Sophie smiled, melted against him. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you,” she said.
“Then let’s make it official. Cora’s got your dress.”
She straightened and pulled away from him. “What?”
“She’s got your dress and the church is ready,” he said, grinning like a fool.
Her
fool.
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking? You’re the one who said they could host a party in no time at all. Why would a wedding be any harder?”
“They’re all waiting? Right now?”
“Every last one of them.” He stood, retrieved a small box from his pants pocket and withdrew a ring. “Here,” he said, his hands trembling. “Let’s make it official, shall we?”
A lump welled in her throat. “It’s Annie’s ring.”
“It was,” he said. “Foy wanted you to have it. He’s giving you away. Threatened to plant a conker on Clayton Plank if he had a problem with that.”
She chuckled, her eyes welling with tears. “I can’t believe you did this,” she said. “I don’t know what to say.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her. “‘I do’ will suffice.”
Thirty minutes later, dressed in a designer gown she couldn’t have been more happy with had she picked it herself, surrounded by her surrogate family and friends, Foy walked her down the aisle and he and Cora gave her away.
Cora gave her a squeeze, her eyes brimming with tears. “Your grandmother would have been so happy to see you today,” she said. “She made me promise that I’d see you settled, and I have,” she said. “I never break a promise.”
Sophie’s throat clogged with emotion and she hugged her dear friend. “Thank you, Cora. For everything.”
“Love you, sweet girl,” Cora said. “He’s a lucky man.”
Sophie turned to Jeb, who stood waiting patiently for her. Those vivid blue eyes glowed with happiness and pride and, God help her, love.
He loved her.
With his brother serving as best man via the face-time feature on his phone, the preacher officiated the service, then asked the all important question.
“Do you, Sophie, take Jeb to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?”
Her gaze tangled with his and her chest ached with joy. “I do.”
He breathed an audible sigh of relief, much to the merriment of their guests.
“I love you,” she whispered, because she hadn’t said it yet. “You’re the winner of my Perfect Man contest.”
* * * * *
The Player
This book is humbly dedicated to all men and women past and present who have served and are currently serving in our Armed Forces, and to their families, who keep the home fires burning.
Prologue
Fort Benning, GA
“W
ITH
ALL
DUE
RESPECT
,
sir, that’s bullshit.”
Colonel Carl Garrett lifted his gaze from the report he’d been
pretending to study and determinedly squashed the smile that tried to curl the
disapproving line of his lips.
Best not to tip his hand.
Instead, he leveled a cool stare at the three men seated on the
wrong side of his desk, most particularly at Guy McCann, who’d issued the
comment. The other two, Majors Brian Payne and Jamie Flanagan, sat stony-faced
but, predictably, had a better grasp on their tempers.
“Bullshit or not, Lt. Colonel, brawling off-base is an Article
15 and, as I’m sure you’re aware, puts a flag on your clearance papers.” He
paused, purposely injected a little more piss and gravel into his voice. “I’m
not sure you’re seeing the gravity of the situation.”
Not a threat, per se, but a reminder. Hell, he knew perfectly
well they understood what was going on. They hadn’t been handpicked for Project
Chameleon—a special forces unit so secretive that there was absolutely no
evidence of its existence in any military file, computer-generated or
otherwise—because they were stupid. Garrett suppressed a grimace. In fact, they
were too damned smart, which had made trying to get them to rethink leaving the
Army with the usual methods—re-upping bonuses, flattery, better posts,
etc.—useless.
Unfortunately guilt had a better grasp on them than any form of
greed—feeling responsible for the death of a close friend would do that. Through
no wrongdoing on their own part, Project Chameleon had lost one of its own
during its last mission, and so far, no amount of lecturing and reviewing what
had happened could ease their sense of guilt. They’d gone in as four and come
out as three.
They’d failed.
Major Payne—a name he’d understandably taken considerable grief
for over the years—released a weary breath. “Permission to speak freely,
sir?”
“Granted.”
“Rutland’s an asshole,” he said, his voice a barely controlled
mixture of irritation and hope. “You know that.” He snorted. “Hell, everyone
knows that.”
“The bastard needed his ass kicked a long time ago,” Flanagan
chimed in, leaning forward in
his seat.
All true, he knew. And he secretly applauded them. Still… “If
Rutland needed an attitude adjustment, it was not up to the three of you to give
it to him.”
“He mouthed off about Danny,” Flanagan said, as though that
should explain everything.
And it did.
McCann swallowed and the other two grew quiet at the mention of
their late friend’s name. Silence thick with the weight of grief and regret
suddenly expanded in the room, causing a twinge of remorse to prick Garrett’s
resolve.
Major Daniel Levinson had been a good man, a better soldier,
and an original member of this unit’s college crew. Each of them had come out of
the ROTC program at the University of Alabama. “Roll Tide” was a frequent cheer
amid their set and Bear Bryant was revered with the sort of exaggerated regard
worthy of a fallen saint. It wasn’t merely football—it was a religion.
Though their military careers had taken them on different paths
over the years, they’d remained close. Closer than any band or so-called
brotherhood of buddies Garrett had ever known. He’d always admired them for
that. Truth be told, he’d envied them as well. The military was a boys’ club,
its very nature a breeding ground for camaraderie and lasting friendships. But
these ’Bama boys were different, had shared a special connection that made them
more like family than friends.
When Project Chameleon had come along, it had been a no-brainer
to reunite the four. They’d all been at the top of their field, each one of them
successful in their own right. Each one of them different enough to offer unique
qualities to the unit, making it one of the most balanced and effective special
forces teams the Army had ever known.
Though he had a reputation for being a bit of a ladies’ man—a
player
in today’s slang, if Garrett remembered
correctly—at a little over six and a half feet, Flanagan not only had the brawn
but also sported a genius-level IQ which made him the brain of the unit.
Honestly, it had surprised him to learn that Flanagan had thrown the first punch
in this recent scuffle. Ordinarily he wasn’t quite so rash. Though they’d all
taken Levinson’s death hard, Garrett suspected that Flanagan was having a harder
time dealing with the loss than the other two at the moment.
Understandable, of course, given how Danny had died. Still…
With nerves of steel and an attention-to-detail that had landed
him the nickname “The Specialist,” Major Brian Payne—who only went by his last
name—didn’t do anything in half-baked, half-assed measures. He was a man you
could count on to not only get the job done, but get it done
right
.
Guy McCann was a bit of a smart-ass with an endearing penchant
for being able to bend a rule just shy of the breaking point, but with good
enough instincts that he always landed on his feet. And Levinson… Well, Levinson
had been the best of all three, and what he’d lacked he’d made up for in heart.
On their own they’d been formidable defenders of Uncle
Sam—together they’d been lethal.
Naturally when the powers-that-be had heard rumors of their
intent to leave, he’d been given strict instruction to prevent it. Garrett ran a
finger over the flag attached to the topmost file. They’d inadvertently given
him the power to do it, and yet, when it had come down to the nut-cutting, he’d
been unable to follow through. Better to have them in his debt than have an
unwilling unit too bent on leaving to be effective. Better a grateful man than a
bitter soldier. If they were bound and determined to leave—and they were—then if
he could wring one more mission, be it personal or professional, out of them,
then he’d still be better off. Fortunately the brass above him had thought so as
well.
“So what’s going to happen?” Guy asked. “How long is this going
to hold us up?”
“That depends,” Garrett told them, leaning back in his
chair.
Guy’s green gaze sharpened. “On what?”
“On whether or not you agree to my terms.”
The three of them stiffened and shared a guarded look. “
Your
terms?” Guy asked warily. A muscle ticked in his
tense jaw.
At last…the heart of the matter, Garrett thought. “That’s
right. You want out. We can do this one of two ways. The hard way… Or my
way.”
Flanagan muttered a hot oath, leaned back and shoved a hand
through his dark brown hair. “I knew this was going to happen,” he said,
shooting Guy a dark look. “We’re
so
screwed.”
“Sonofabitch,” Guy muttered angrily.
Payne swallowed what was most likely a similar statement, but
managed to hold his temper. Just barely, judging by the vein throbbing in his
forehead. “And what, exactly, would
your
way
entail?” he asked.
“Nothing complicated,” Garrett told them smoothly. “You’ll just
owe me.”
“Owe you?” Guy repeated, with equal amounts of surprise and
trepidation.
Jamie frowned, his hazel eyes wary. “Owe you what?”
Garrett shrugged, but his tone belied the casual gesture. “A
favor.” He cast them all a steely look in turn. “From each of you. When I call
it in, I want no questions asked, no excuses. Just do it.”
Guy considered him with a measuring, probing look. “That calls
for a lot of trust.”
“I’ve worked with you for the past four years, McCann. It’s
either there or it isn’t. The choice is yours.”
A beat slid into five while the three of them shared another
one of those unspoken looks of communication. Garrett watched closely, but
didn’t detect a single indication of yea or nay from any one of them. Yet Payne
evidently got the message because it was he who ultimately spoke for the group.
“One favor from each of us? That’s it?”
Garrett nodded, anticipation spiking.
Payne released an even breath. “Then we accept your terms, sir.
We want out. If you can make that happen quickly, then a favor won’t be a
problem.”
“Excellent,” Garrett told them, his lips curling into a belated
smile. “Consider it done.”
The three stood, preparing to leave. Garrett found his feet as
well and extended his hand to each of them, sealing their bargain with a
handshake. An old-fashioned gesture, but one that was better than a contract
with men like these. They were men of courage, dignity and honor. A rare breed
in this day and age.
He let go a sigh, fully absorbing the fact that they would no
longer be under his command and found himself quite startled to realize that
he’d…miss them. He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Likewise, sir,” Flanagan told him.
“An honor,” McCann added.
A man of few words, Payne merely shot him a look which aptly
conveyed the same sentiment, then added, “Until later, sir.”
Garrett felt a grin tug at his lips. “Oh, don’t worry,” he told
them. “I’ll be in touch.”
* * *
“
W
HAT
THE
HELL
WAS
THAT
all about?” Guy asked as they
made their way down the hall away from Garrett’s office.
“Leverage,” Jamie said grimly, feeling an immeasurable amount
of relief regardless of the bargain he’d just made. It was over. Finished.
Ranger Security—their postmilitary plan—was, at most, a mere month away, and it
couldn’t come a day sooner. In fact, he would have just about promised Garrett
anything—a firstborn, his left nut, hell
anything—
to
have pushed those clearance papers through.
He wanted out. End of story.
Jamie shot Payne a look. “What’s your take on this favor
bargain?”
Payne cocked a brow and shoved open the front doors, revealing
the beautiful natural landscape of Fort Benning proper. Georgia, he thought.
God’s country. “I think Garrett’s a crafty bastard who just secured three
freebies for Uncle Sam.”
“Or for himself,” Guy drawled. “He wasn’t very specific. Hell,
for all we know we could end up being his personal errand boys.”
“What? And waste all our special training?” Jamie chewed the
inside of his cheek and shook his head. “He might have something personal in
mind, but you can bet your sweet ass it’s going to be something which requires
our particular set of skills.”
Guy inclined his head at the point, then blew out a breath.
“Well, frankly I don’t give a damn what he wants—I’m just glad it’s over.”
Now that was a sentiment they all shared. Jamie felt a crooked
smile slide across his lips, looked over and caught the vaguest hint of a grin
transform Payne’s usually impassive countenance.
“Boys,” Guy said meaningfully, “I say it’s time to
celebrate.”
Payne nodded once in agreement. “I wouldn’t say no to a cold
one.”
Jamie hesitated, wincing. He was about to severely tick off his
friends and he knew it.
Guy glanced at him and frowned. “Let me guess,” he said, his
lips twisted with sarcastic humor. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark here
and say that you’ve got a date.”
“With Michelle,” Jamie admitted.
“Date three, right?” Payne asked.
Jamie chewed the corner of his lip and nodded.
“Ah,” Guy sighed knowingly. “Then she’ll be getting the
Sayonara Serenade?”
“Of course.” Rather than linger and feel their censure—Payne,
in particular had become annoyingly vocal on the amount of time he chose to
spend with the opposite sex of late—Jamie turned and started walking backward
toward his jeep. “Cold beer or a warm woman?” He chuckled, lightening the
moment. “It’s an easy choice, guys.”
Or at least it was for him.
* * *
G
UY
M
C
C
ANN
WATCHED
AS
Jamie cranked his
jeep and, wearing a cocky I’m-getting-laid grin, drove off.
How Jamie got a woman to sleep with him
after
he’d officially cut her loose was a phenomenon that both Guy
and Payne had marveled over for years. Especially since it had been Jamie’s love
life that had necessitated setting up some rules. After a particularly bad
breakup, Guy, Payne and Jamie had sat down over beers and decided on three hard
and fast mandates for preserving their bachelor status.
Frankly, he and Payne had personal reasons for wanting to
remain single, but Jamie had always been the romantic of the three. At least
until he’d caught Shelly Edwards, the so-called love of his life, balling their
landlord in lieu of rent.
In their bed, no less.
At any rate, after that particularly humiliating episode Jamie
had changed. Instead of looking for the love of his life, he’d merely started
looking for the love of his
night
. Following their
rules—never spend the entire night with a woman, never let her eat off your
plate, and after the third date, cut her loose—he’d pretty much perfected what
they’d dubbed “kamikaze romance.” After all, every relationship was destined to
crash and burn.
Payne watched him drive away as well, then glanced at Guy. “Is
it just me, or is he getting worse?”
“Getting worse?”
“More women, more often.”
Guy mulled it over, rubbed the back of his neck. Actually, he
hadn’t noticed, but now that Payne had pointed it out, it did seem like Jamie
hadn’t been around as much lately. Aside from making plans for Ranger Security,
Jamie hadn’t had much time for their usual pursuits—beer, poker, target
practice, etc… In fact, now that he really thought about it, Jamie’s dating
schedule had taken a dramatic upswing in the months since Danny’s death.
