The Loner: Men Out of Uniform Book 4 Read online

  “I think perhaps you have confused me with your other hired help,” Huck pointed out. “I don’t have to follow your orders. You have to follow mine.”

  Impossibly, her eyes narrowed further. “Listen, Jack. I don’t work for you. You work for--“

  “Your father,” Huck interjected. “And the name’s not Jack. It’s Huck.”

  She glared up at him. “I’m beginning to see why the sonofabitch, bastard and asshole nicknames followed you around. And my father--“

  “--will follow my recommendation,” he finished for her, once again cutting her off. From her mutinous expression it was a novel experience for her and for reasons which escaped him it made this all the more enjoyable.

  He liked pissing her off. It was fun.

  “He’s paying for my professional opinion and the instant we get back I’m going to give it to him.” He chuckled darkly. “Unless it’s an emergency of epic proportions, your newly waxed, buffed and painted ass isn’t leaving the house. Playtime is over, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  He couldn’t possibly be serious, Sapphira thought as a triumphantly smiling Huck held her car door open for her. He might have been doing it out of courtesy, but it felt like he was ushering her into a jail cell, or worse still, the last walk for a death row inmate. Panic punched her heart rate into overdrive and nausea spun in her suddenly churning gut.

  House arrest? House arrest?

  Had he lost his freaking mind?

  No, dammit, she was the one who’d lost their mind. She’d known--known--the instant she’d laid eyes on him that he was different, that he wouldn’t put up with her the way that the others had. She’d recognized it, but hadn’t changed her tact, hadn’t developed a new strategy.

  She watched him round the car, a slight limp to his gait and observed the faintest hint of a wince behind the grin he wore at her expense. She’d noticed the hitch in his step this morning when she’d first met him, but couldn’t recall seeing it the rest of the day. Come to think of it, though, he’d either been sitting in her car, in a chair, or leaning against the wall.

  As he angled into her tiny car and wedged himself behind the wheel a bolt of insight flashed in her otherwise preoccupied mind and she inwardly squirmed with shame. Clearly piloting her Mini Cooper hadn’t helped with whatever ache pained his leg. Ordinarily she wasn’t so dim and thoughtless, but the sight of him earlier today and his overall appearance had rattled her beyond the usual measure. Her guardian bird of prey obviously had a broken wing, she thought, shooting him a look from the corner of her eye.

  “I can be reasonable,” Sapphira said, dragging her shredded thoughts together and forcing herself to remain calm. “If driving my car hurts your leg, then we can take yours. Why didn’t you say something?”

  She watched his jaw tighten as he shifted the car into gear and expertly merged out into traffic. “Who said anything about my leg hurting?”

  “Nobody had to say anything. It’s obvious. You’ve got a bit of a limp.”

  “I’m not making you stay home because of any physical discomfort on my part,” he all but growled. “It’s a safety issue.”

  Sapphira rolled her eyes. “Bullshit. You just don’t like following me around. Newsflash, Huckleberry, that’s your job.”

  He slid her a look that would have wilted steel and frightened small children. “My job is to protect you, not follow you around. Contrary to popular belief, they aren’t synonymous.”

  “Then why didn’t the others balk?”

  He snorted. “They were too nice.” He bared his teeth in another disturbingly thrilling smile and those mesmerizing eyes pinned her to her seat. “I am not.”

  Her muddled belly did a little roll and, against all sense, her nipples tingled at the blatantly bald comment. Sweet God, what was wrong with her? The man was being a complete ass--and an obstinate one at that--and yet she found herself curiously aroused.

  Clearly the heat from the unusually potent attraction had fried her brain, otherwise she was certain she’d give him a real piece of her mind, not the dumbed-down version she’d been sharing with the other men over the past week and a half.

  Sapphira looked away and harrumphed under her breath. “Trust me, it’s nothing to be proud of.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.”

  “That’s right. Mine,” she added pointedly.

  A low chuckle rumbled up his throat. “And I suppose you think yours is the only one that matters?”

  “Of course, not,” she snapped, annoyed despite the fact that she’d obviously given him that impression. At the moment it felt like a very shallow victory. “But if you think you’re going to keep me locked up until you figure out whose sending those ridiculous letters, then you’d better think again.” She pulled out her hand sanitizer and squirted a dollop onto her right palm, then put her hands together and gave them a vicious rub. “I have things to do.”

  He grunted. “Your spray-on tan can wait.”

  Sapphira felt her mouth drop open. “I don’t--and have never--gotten a spray on tan,” she said through tightly gritted teeth.

  Obviously having watched her apply the hand gel, he jerked his head in her direction. “What’s with the disinfectant stuff? You’ve been putting it on all day.”

  “I’ve been touching things covered with germs all day,” she shot back. “Did you know that some bacteria and viruses can live for up to two hours on a doorknob?”

  A smile caught the corner of his mouth. “Er...no, I didn’t.”

  She hadn’t either until she’d watched that damned primetime special. At first she’d just been appalled at the number of people who didn’t wash their hands after using the rest room and had decided that hand sanitizer was a good way to combat other people’s uncleanly behavior, but once she’d started using the gel... Well, suffice it to say that it was more addiction now than habit. She craved that cool feeling on her palms. She kept multiple bottles in her purse and around her house. She needed it. Without it, she could practically feel the germs crawling all over her hands.

  “Well, they do.” She held the bottle out to him. “Want some.”

  “No, thanks. What makes you think the letters are ‘ridiculous?’”

  Dammit, she was going to have to be more careful. She should have known he’d pick up on that slip. “They’re ridiculous because they are disrupting my life,” she said, exasperated and thankful it was, in part, the truth. “I have things to do.”

  Huck presented ID at the gate, then pulled around to her house. “Yes, well, that list just got shortened considerably. From this point forward all of your errands will be vetted by me and I will decide whether or not they are pressing or can wait until we’ve determined the source of your threat.”

  “Well, just exactly what have you done about that?” Sapphira asked, feeling panic fuel her ascending blood pressure. “Could you tell me what you’ve done to find out whose sending me the damned letters?”

  Huck shifted into park and immediately climbed out of the car to stretch. Rather than wait on him to round the hood and open her door, Sapphira scrambled out as well. “Well?” she demanded. She knew she was being unfair and unreasonable. The man had scarcely been on the job eight hours and she’d had him chauffeuring her around the majority of that time. She knew she was being a certified pain in the ass, but couldn’t seem to help herself. Her life was spinning out of control and she seemed utterly powerless to stop it.

  And for whatever reason, he seemed to be making things worse. His presence, his attitude, not to mention this damned attraction. Truth be told she’d offered him the hand gel to see if she could eliminate a bit of that strangely wonderful scent that seemed to ooze out of his pores.

  Furthermore, she’d caught the disgusted look on his face when she’d snapped at Mark, the coffee clerk, and the realization that her plan to make him dislike her was working had left her more depressed than happy. Did he know that she’d slipped Mark a hundred dollars last week to play alon
g? That she’d apologized in advance for her tacky behavior so that he wouldn’t be hurt that she’d suddenly turned into a screaming harpy from hell?

  No. He didn’t. And couldn’t ever know it, otherwise her plan, such as it was, would be ruined.

  And as far as a plan went, she had to admit it was pretty damned stupid. Entertaining at times, but ill-conceived, ineffective and ignorant. Had she annoyed them? Made them miserable?

  Certainly.

  But she hadn’t managed to permanently put them off and knew that, ultimately, she wouldn’t be able to pull that sort of coup. These men were former Rangers, for pity’s sake. Bonafide bad asses. They’d been put through some of the most rigorous military training exercises in the known world and had come through on the other end. They were modern day warriors, Uncle Sam’s elite, the cream of the crop. Had she honestly believed that being a shallow prima donna with more money than sense would really make them go away? Quit, even?

  She inwardly sighed. Who was she kidding? They weren’t going anywhere. Her gaze slid to Huck. And he damned sure wasn’t. He would ride it out regardless because he was just that damned stubborn.

  And only she would find that deeply sexy. She smothered a whimper and resisted the urge to howl with frustration.

  “What have I done to locate the letter-writer?” Huck asked, glaring wide-eyed at her from across the hood. “You know damned well what I’ve done today, Princess. I haven’t had time to piss,” he said, glowering at her, “much less investigate who wants to hurt you, though given the day that we’ve had together I can see that the suspect list should include anyone in the food service, retail sales and personal hygiene industries.”

  The jibe, while deserved, struck a nerve.

  “But you can rest assured we won’t have another repeat of today.” He paused and shot her a shrewd look with those clear gray eyes. “We’re done playing by your rules. From now on we’re following mine. And, believe me,” he added laughing softly though it lacked any genuine humor, “no one wants to neutralize the threat more than I do.”

  Meaning, he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

  Mission accomplished, girl genius, she thought her heart sagging as Trixie did her pee-pee dance around her leg. And in record time, too. He hates you.

  It should have been the least of her worries, but oddly enough...it wasn’t.

  CHAPTER 5

  “I understand that Sapphira isn’t going to like being confined, sir, but under the circumstances I think it’s our best bet for keeping her safe until we’ve uncovered the source of the letters.”

  Mathias Stravos, a remote robust sixty-something with tanned skin and sporting a full head of bristly salt and pepper hair, didn’t respond at first. The man was too busy staring at his computer screen to offer any sort of reply. And had been since the moment Huck had been granted entrance into his opulent office. “Damned technology,” he muttered, poking angrily at the keyboard. “Why can’t this thing run any faster?”

  Given the way he’d been abusing the machine, Huck thought it was a miracle the computer hadn’t fallen apart already. Stravos had been slapping the side of the monitor as though it were a vending machine with a stuck snack. He inwardly grimaced. Not exactly the best way to handle delicate equipment. Clearly finesse and patience weren’t part of his character make-up.

  Quite frankly, for reasons he didn’t know but trusted nonetheless, he didn’t like the man. He was arrogant, entitled and cold. Had he always been that way? he wondered. Or had his son’s suicide precipitated the change?

  Whatever the case, he hadn’t been able to miss the flash of fear he’d caught in Sapphira’s eyes when he’d announced his intention to go and talk with her father. What exactly was she afraid of? Huck wondered, intrigued. Her father? After meeting the man he could certainly see why she’d find him intimidating, but fear? It was all very strange.

  “I hired your company to protect my daughter. If I wanted to make her a prisoner I would have confined her myself.”

  And no doubt he could have done it as well, Huck thought, oddly chilled. He’d gotten a strange vibe regarding Sapphira’s father from the moment he arrived, but now that same premonition was ringing so hard he could feel it rattling his spine.

  “I’m not talking about making her a prisoner,” Huck felt compelled to point out, his tone even and firm. “I’m talking about keeping her safe. Taking the dog to the groomer, in my opinion, is an unnecessary risk until we’ve isolated the threat. Furthermore, it’s hard to focus on the investigation if I’m chaperoning a shopping trip. Frankly it’s an unwarranted hazard and a waste of my time and your money.” He shrugged, unconcerned. He sure as hell wasn’t afraid of him. “However if you want me to continue--”

  “No, no,” he interrupted impatiently, once again whacking the computer. The man had yet to look him in the eye, an indirect insult and overall lack of respect. “That won’t be necessary. All trips out of the compound are at your discretion. I’ll see to it that Sapphira doesn’t give you any trouble.” Huck didn’t detect the slightest bit of fatherly affection in the man’s voice and it put him instantly on guard on Sapphira’s behalf. Why? Who the hell knew? But it was a gut-check reaction and he knew better than to ignore it.

  “That won’t be necessary. I don’t anticipate her giving me any trouble.”

  At that, Stravos finally looked up and a flash of unreadable emotion washed over his lined face. “Then you obviously don’t have children, otherwise you would know that they are nothing but trouble.” His gaze drifted over to a photograph on his desk, presumably of his son, and grew shuttered. “Good evening, Mr. Finn. I’ll expect daily reports of your progress.”

  Summarily dismissed, Huck stood and made his way out, thankful that the bizarre meeting was over. At any rate, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do, which was putting an end to Sapphira’s ridiculous running around. While the local economy might take a little hit, he considered it a public service. The unkind thought made him smile, but he’d had so little pleasure today he’d take it where he could get it.

  Honestly, he didn’t know when he’d ever met anyone quite like her. For the majority of the day she’d been a monumental pain in the ass, but occasionally he’d caught an unmistakable glimpse of intelligence and humor lurking behind those interesting green eyes, shaping the curve of that kissable mouth.

  One he’d looked at entirely too much over the course of their afternoon.

  She had the most expressive face, Huck thought, reluctantly intrigued. How many times had he watched her lift that little chin? Those lips tremble with a smile? Her eyes widen in outrage or narrow in irritation? And she had this way of barely cocking her head in bewilderment that, to his horror, he found absolutely adorable.

  Kittens were adorable, dammit.

  And she was no kitten.

  In fact, the only thing cat-like about her was that sultry feline smile that made him think of warm breath and puckered nipples, of welcoming thighs and a shadowed belly-button. He paused on the path back to her house and swore, waiting for the fire in his loins to subside.

  Things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about--particularly with her.

  Huck looked toward her house and saw her through the tall windows which marched across the front of her Grecian cottage. Despite the balmy heat, she’d opened the shutters and white gauzy curtains fluttered in the evening breeze. A ceiling fan swirled overhead, blowing strands of mocha-colored hair around her face. She sat curled up in a chair, the phone pressed to her ear. Her face was an exasperated mask of worry and irritation. The irritation he understood--he’d caused it. But the worry...

  It was genuine.

  She wasn’t worried about the threatening letters, but was worried about not going to the beauty parlor or to the mall? Surely not, Huck thought. Despite all the evidence to the contrary today, he knew she had a deeper character than that. The question was...why was she trying to hide it?

  His cell vibrated at his waist. �
�Finn,” he answered.

  McCann laughed into his ear. “You are a friggin’ genius. I’m lifting a longneck in your honor right now.”

  Confused, Huck chuckled and passed a hand over his face. “Thanks, but I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “Putting Princess Pain in the Ass under house arrest,” he all but crowed. “Brilliant, my man. Simply brilliant.”

  He frowned. “How did you know--“

  “She called a few minutes ago and asked Payne to come back. She told him that you were an ‘insufferable boorish clod’ and she could not deal with you.”

  Huck glared at her through the window, then set off at a faster clip toward her house. He made a point of stomping up the steps to alert her of his presence. “Oh, really?” he asked, pushing into room. Sapphira scrambled to get off the phone and shot him another inconvenienced grimace. “An insufferable boorish clod? That’s certainly a new one,” he drawled, pinning her with his gaze. He stalked purposely toward her.

  He had the privilege of watching a blush spread up her neck and over her cheeks.

  “Aside for asking for a replacement, did she say anything else?”

  “Just that you’d put her under house arrest and she couldn’t work with you, that one of us would have to return. Payne was very diplomatic in that he didn’t tell her we’d all rather have our nuts exposed to a flesh-eating virus first.” He chuckled darkly. “He just told her that the three of us were busy with other clients and that she would simply have to ‘make do.’ That if you thought she should was safer within the compound that she should respect your opinion.”

  Huck snorted. “I’ll bet that went over like a lead balloon.”

  “She wasn’t happy, no. What did her father say? She’d said you’d gone to talk to him.”

  “Her father agreed with me and said he would make sure that Sapphira didn’t give me any trouble.”

  No doubt about it, Huck thought, as he watched another shadow move over her eyes. That was fear.

  Intrigued, he studied her for a moment, searched her face for anymore clues. “I told him that wouldn’t be necessary, that I was perfectly capable of making sure she stayed in line.”