The Protector (6 page)

That line jolted Vivi out of her fantasy. What the hell was wrong with her? Not only was her body flushed with sudden sexual heat, but her imagination had run off with a wet dream. She scowled. When had she lost control of the situation?

“You can at least look more ecstatic at being my number one girl,” he murmured.

“I have no intention of being your girl.”

“You did say think out of the box. Now you’re mad because the girls have stopped.”

The girls had indeed stopped touching Jazz, even though they still followed them. They appeared to accept that he had a girl with him already, and so was unable to afford them. Vivi let out a small sigh, following his lead as he maneuvered them back on the dirt path.

There were small kids playing on top of the hood and the trunk of the car, and they made honking noises as Vivi and Jazz approached. They were still too young to care about being poor, to know about choices and alternatives. She smiled at a really tiny kid sucking on his thumb as he sat on his brother’s shoulders. He grinned back and waved his wet thumb at her.

“Hi there,” she said, wiggling her finger at him.

Jazz removed his arm from her shoulder and took two kids off the roof of the car. They laughed at being swirled high in the air before being set on the ground.

“Little rascals,” he said, and laughed as one of them kicked his shoe.

He was good with kids, she had to give him that. In fact, everything about Jazz Zeringue was too good to be true.
Gentleman. Knight. Protective male. There must be something negative she could pin on him.

“Where are their parents?” he asked.

“Some of them don’t have any.”

He ruffled a child’s hair. “Poor kids. Wish I had some more cash to give them.”

“Don’t train them to beg, Lieutenant. Each generation becomes more and more weakened by this system of dependence.”

He regarded her with those blue eyes quietly. “You’ve given this some thought,” he observed. “I was only thinking of a way to help,
chouchou.
”

“Easy, isn’t it? Throw money at the problem and it should solve itself.” Vivi shrugged, taking a last look around at the shantytown. “It’s a temporary patch, Lieutenant. You have to understand cultural values and start from there.”

“I thought your calling me Jazz earlier was a good start to cultural exchange,” he said as he came near again, much too close for comfort. “Maybe you and I can talk more about this over dinner,
chouchou.
”

The man was also far too persistent. “Stop calling me that. We aren’t exchanging any kind of cultural lessons during dinner or at any time.”

He grinned devilishly. “Don’t you want to give me some cultural instructions?”

Vivi ignored the challenge. She didn’t want to flirt with him. It was far too tempting. She opened her handbag to retrieve the keys to the car. “Get over to the other side, Lieutenant, or they will all be swarming in with us. Then you’ll have to send them home to your maman too. What will your poor maman do with your wife and kids?”

His laughter was low and sexy, as if he was very aware of his effect on her. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this flustered by male attention, jabbering nonsensically.

She waited as Jazz cut over to the passenger side. He had a kid hanging on to his back. It seemed the children liked him as much as the girls. There was something about watch
ing a big man playing with a small child that made her weak. She watched as he patiently waited for the kid to get off. Then he turned and gave her one of those lazy smiles.

“Ready, ma’am.”

Vivi pulled the door handle. Something tugged at her blouse and she looked down. It was the same little kid, barely able to stand without wobbling. He looked at her with round innocent eyes full of wonder. She opened the door and slid into the seat. Slipping her hand into one of the side pockets of her purse, she pulled out a bar of chocolate. The child grabbed the candy as soon as she showed it to him, a smile lighting up his face like bright sunshine.

Vivi smiled sadly. She was now the one handing out the chocolate.

Jazz caught the fleeting sadness in Vivi’s expression
as she started up the car and turned the vehicle around. It must be tough to have a job like this—saving kids, only to return them back to the system that created them. His job was much easier, he decided.

“Are you going to give money to my commander to keep me safe for a few days?” he joked, hoping to cheer her a little.

He was rewarded with that half-mocking secretive smile, as if the same thought had run through her mind. She refused to answer him, but it was okay. He had achieved his goal.

The heat from the sun had curled the loose tendrils around Vivi’s face into ringlets. Jazz wondered whether her hair was naturally curly once it was freed from that braid. He hadn’t had time to dwell on why every aspect of her face fascinated him, from those kissable lips to the texture of her hair. He enjoyed women—they were like bursts of laughter and sunshine, the taste of thick vanilla ice cream shakes, and the smell of homemade pie. He treasured them because they were generous creatures, with their loving hands and marvelous ways of making a man feel like a man. But he had never had the urge to get too close. Until now.

“I’m not cheap.” He continued his banter. “I assure you he’s willing to negotiate.”

“You’ll let another man negotiate your price?” she countered as she slowed down for a farmer and his goats crossing the busy road. “You trust him that much?”

“I trust him with my life,” Jazz told her. “He’ll drive a hard bargain.”

“We’ll see whether you’re right,” she said dryly. “What should I say I’m keeping you safe from? Those girls in Rose’s neighborhood?”

She had the sass of a cocky trumpet interrupting a good piece, creating the interesting reply to the string of background harmony.

“Maybe,” he replied, looking at his target through half-closed eyes.

Jazz had never looked at a woman and thought of music before. He studied the woman next to him and wondered what she would say if he told her that she was inspiring some pretty cool rhythms in his head. His lips quirked. She would have one of those tart comebacks in that soft French accent that inspired other kinds of rhythms.

“You get amused easily, don’t you, Lieutenant? No one even need tell you a joke.”

“I can’t even smile now?”

She sighed. “You smile too damn much.”

He had been told that before. “I can’t help it,” he told her solemnly. “I was born with a big smile on my pretty face. Maman always said she had to smack me to make sure I knew how to cry.”

Vivi gave him a startled glance, then laughed. He liked the way her laughter sounded—full-bodied and mellow. “I’ll have to remember to kick your ass a bit then,” she said.

“Over dinner?” he persisted.

“Maybe after,” she replied very softly.

He grinned. Maman’s advice had always been good. To get a date, always make the woman feel like a woman, she
had said. And always tell her his maman beat his behind a lot. He had gotten his two wishes—a smile and dinner. He had been around women enough to know not to push his luck. He changed the subject.

“How do you know where to take me?” Jazz asked. He was curious about how Vivi had gotten such information, anyway. He belonged to one of the top covert groups in the United States; very few people knew anything about them. He suspected that Vivi was one of them, and that added a whole layer of intriguing possibilities.

“My boss told me,” Vivi said, slanting him a quick glance as she maneuvered the small car through the hodgepodge of traffic down the increasingly busy downtown.

They were back to mysterious film noir heroine leading the man around, Jazz thought in amusement. “And your boss is…?”

Her answering look was telling. “Have I asked any questions about you, your covert activities, or your outfit, Lieutenant Zeringue?” When he smiled lazily at her, her back straightened defensively. “What? Why do you always do that?”

He was getting to her. “Do what?” he asked.

“Don’t give me that innocent boy act. You always give me that look whenever you think I’m speaking double entendres.”

“Well, you were the one who brought up covert activities and outfit,
chouchou
,” he pointed out. “I’d be happy to demonstrate all my covert activities after dinner tonight. I have no outfits in mind.”

Vivi answered with a sudden bout of choked coughing. He had a feeling she was trying to disguise her laughter. For some reason, she didn’t want him to know she enjoyed his company, but he’d caught the laughter gleaming in her eyes before she turned back to the traffic. He leaned over and whispered wickedly, “Except for my pendant, of course,
chouchou.
I think it’d make the covert activities very exciting.”

Her hand came up between her breasts, grasping at the
hidden pendant. “You’ll have this back as soon as we reached our destination.”

“No, keep it warm for me till after dinner,” he told her wickedly.

Her hand stroked at his necklace absently, and he suddenly wished she were doing the same thing to him somewhere more strategic. “Lieutenant Zola Zeringue,” she warned. “You don’t know when to stop pushing your luck.”

Whatever had possessed her to even contemplate a dinner date with this man? Vivi slammed the car door shut. The subject of her thoughts did likewise, looking around the neighborhood as he did so. It dawned on her that his lazy perusal was mostly a disguise. She doubted those baby blues missed much as they took in the deceptively understated surroundings.

The warehouse nearby looked ordinary enough, with the rusty fencing and men moving crates onto the lorries and carts waiting in line. Loud rock and roll music blared from a nearby radio, mingling with the sounds of hammers and saws in the background.

Two men watched as Vivi and Jazz picked their way toward the warehouse. One of them approached when she walked in and rapped on the counter. Jazz stood by the entrance a few feet away, giving him easy access to move in or out of the building. He was a good soldier, she thought. Never let his guard down, even when he knew she was taking him to meet his friends.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

Vivi showed him an order slip. “Are they ready?”

The man inspected the paper, then checked a book behind the counter. He shook his head. “No, ma’am, not ready. They’re working in the backyard.”

“Can I talk to the supervisor?”

“Sure. Go through the side door, turn left, ma’am. Be careful of the electrical cords.”

“Thank you.”

Vivi turned to Jazz. “If it helps, this is a secured place.”

“So I can see,
chouchou
. It’s not every day I see shopkeepers with weapons ready and pointing from under the tables,” Jazz said. He regarded her for a moment, his blue eyes probing hers. “You could have warned me. What if I had taken one of those men down?”

Vivi had thought about it, but for some inexplicable reason, she had decided not to. He was supposed to be this hotshot SEAL, so…Okay, she admitted to wanting to test the man. She had omitted telling him that the people here worked for her.

“And what good would that do, Lieutenant? I’d be dead, and so would you,” she pointed out. “I figured you’d be smart enough not to do anything, like when you were caught with Rose at that bar.”

“How did you know I didn’t?” he countered.

She smiled. Almost got caught there. “The report said you didn’t struggle, of course. What, did you see me there taking notes?”

He seemed satisfied with her response, taking her last question as a joke. “Don’t test me again, Vivi,” he murmured, still looking around. “I’m very unpredictable when I’m nervous.”

She hid another smile, pointing at the direction she wanted to go. She had seen him in a few situations that told her the man didn’t get jittery very often. The sound of male voices and tools being used became louder. Jazz would recognize the voices of his men. “Don’t be,” she said. “I assure you this is a very safe place and that I’m here to protect you from bad people.”

He flashed a returning smile. “I feel better already.”

They turned the corner and the men paused in midconversation, turning to their visitors. Some of them put down their tools. Vivi surveyed the men with interest. She had met only Jazz and Hawk up close. She remembered the others gathered around the piano that other night, making a
lot of jovial noises. They looked a lot cleaner today. She nodded to all of them, her gaze resting a little longer on Hawk McMillan, the mission commander.

“Don’t let me interrupt that interesting story, gentlemen,” Vivi said, shifting her attention to the big tall man, the one everyone called…Cucumber. She didn’t want to guess the reason. “You were telling your friends about getting your balls checked out by some doctor.”

“You must have excellent concentration, Miss Verreau, talking to Jazz and listening to us at the same time,” Hawk said as he approached them. “Jazz, you look well rested.”

Vivi felt each man’s examination as she stood there. She wondered what their commander had told them about her. Hawk’s eyes, intimately assessing, didn’t reveal anything.

“Yes, I am,” Jazz replied from behind her.

“Then you ought to be ready for some action.”

“Always. Did I miss anything important?”

“I’ll fill you in later.”

The exchange between the two men interested Vivi. She knew they were close friends from their interaction at the bar. Hawk was the unit commander, but her papers told her that Jazz was a Joint Task Force coleader in their covert work, each coordinating their teams of three and two men in the operations. It took a lot of faith between two men to have confidence that the other’s timing would be right.

“Miss Verreau,” Hawk greeted her, his hand extended. Vivi returned his direct perusal with the same candor.

Hawk McMillan had the face of a poster boy for the military. His eyes, that shimmering color that reminded her of brandy, glittered rakishly. She knew from their last encounter that they missed nothing. His file told her that he played the ladies’ man, yet she was very aware that there was nothing soft about the SEAL. She also knew from personal experience that when Hawk wanted information, he was unconventional and persuasive. She still laughed when she recalled the promises he had given to her old lady disguise.

Vivi shook Hawk’s hand and was vaguely amused when
he smoothly tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and pivoted her toward the group. The man was also very suave. Behind her, she felt Jazz’s gaze boring into her.

“Men, this is going to be a first for you. Meet Miss Vivienne Verreau. Admiral Madison has instructed me to tell you that she will issue the Patrol Leader’s Order.”

So Hawk McMillan had waited until now to reveal her role. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to appear in front of a group of warriors and be told she was going to be their general for the next battle. A challenge had been issued here. She smiled up at Hawk, slipped her hand free, then moved a few steps forward, making sure the men stood in a loose circle around her.

A Patrol Leader’s Order was war cry to covert teams to drop everything and listen to orders. At this moment, these men, accustomed to their all-male circle, were being told that the person who was going to give them these orders was…a woman.

Vivi remained silent for a long second, unruffled by the undisguised interest in the male eyes. At least none of them looked shocked or disgruntled. Yet. She didn’t look at Jazz. He distracted her too much. First, she had to show these men she could handle them. “I’m still waiting for the rest of your story,” she addressed Cucumber softly. “Unless, of course, you’re too embarrassed to go on.”

His story, from what she had caught, was the usual male banter around that thing between their legs. It was a favorite topic of conversation. That, and sex and women. Or, with soldiers, that, and sex and women, with a big smattering of war heroics. Her gaze hardened as she challenged the big SEAL, raising her brows a shade higher.

She noted that Cucumber hesitated long enough to catch the silent go-ahead order from Hawk. Relaxing a little, he never let his eyes leave her face as he continued his tale. “Like I was saying, I was getting a check-up after a field assignment with a different outfit. I won’t name the commander but he didn’t like my SEAL attitude. I had a slight
injury from the assignment and he sent me to the med, with specific instructions.”

One of the other men laughed. “Yeah, to have his asshole checked out.”

Vivi cocked her head. “Did you bend over, like you were told?”

There were a few low chuckles. “I had trouble unzipping my pants because my hands were the parts of me that were injured,” Cucumber informed her with a straight face. His eyes had that glitter of a male being challenged. “So I requested that he aid me.”

There was outright laughter now. “Shit, man, you have some ba—gumption.”

Cucumber ignored his friend, continuing, “He sat right there between my bloody pants and casually asked, ‘What the fuck have you been doing, soldier, cutting up your hands like that?’as he helped me out of my pants. He fucking knew all along that I didn’t need my pants down but he was following orders. Stupid bastard couldn’t say no to his fuckass arrogant commander, so he had to play dumb. So I said, ‘It’s some shrapnel and dirt, nothing very serious. Land mines.’ He shook his head, and…”

Cucumber finally turned to the guys, his lips twitching. “…with his fucking head at eye-level to my balls, he said, ‘That’s a nasty job you have.’ Fucking idiot was actually holding my balls while he said that.” Cucumber turned back to Vivi. “So I said to him, looking straight into his eyes, ‘Not as nasty as yours.’”

The howls of laughter were very male. The joke was funny but Vivi heard the underlying message. “You’re a brave one,” she commented, amusement in her voice, “saying that to a man holding your balls in his hands.”

“He has big balls, ma’am,” one of the men chipped in.

“I’ll keep that in mind for our operation,” Vivi said, deliberately bringing the subject back to her. She knew they were all wondering why she was the one giving the Patrol Leader’s Order, and not Hawk.