Recon Marines II: Marine's Heiress, The

The Marine’s
Heiress

By

Susan Kelley

(C) Copyright by Susan
Kelley, January 2014

(C) Cover Art by Jenny
Dixon, September 2013

ISBN
978-1-60394-861-6

Smashwords
Edition

New Concepts
Publishing

Lake Park, GA
31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All
characters, events and places are of the author’s imagination and
not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or
events is merely coincidence.

Dedication:

To my daughter, may she

Never lose her sense of
wonder.

Chapter One

Recon Marine Vin trusted his disguise
to fool the target and risked getting close to her. He folded down
the hood of his jacket, concentrating to make the motion casual
rather than careful. His fingers brushed against the curls touching
his collar. Adjustment to his longer hairstyle eluded him, but it
helped him blend into the prey’s habitat.

“
What will you have, sir?”
His prey looked at him with instinctive wariness.

Vin had prepared for such a question
when he planned his approach. “Cold tea and hot biscuits, please.”
He’d heard other customers in the café make the exact
request.

The woman smiled faintly and lifted her
eyebrow. She turned away and strode through a curtained doorway,
her small heeled boots tapping a rapid rhythm on the wood floor. A
whiff of fresh baked bread trailed behind her and lingered near the
table he occupied.

Of the dozen tables crowding the eating
area built into the side of the trading post, only two others held
customers. Vin assessed them again, though he’d observed and
evaluated them as no threat earlier. One older man sat by himself
and stared into his tea mug. Two young women leaned toward each
other across the short expanse of another table, whispering words
they probably thought private. Vin heard their bold opinions of
him.

“
He’s too pretty to be
single,” one girl said around a giggle.

“
He’s alone, isn’t he? A
married man would bring along his wife.”

The past six months had taught Vin a
bit about civilians. The two girls meant nothing with their silly
words. Women found his appearance attractive everywhere he went.
The more he ignored the attention directed at him, the greater
their efforts to gain his notice. He wondered why civilians cared
so much for physical beauty instead of the important qualities
needed to survive on the wilderness worlds outside the protection
and laws of the Galactic Ministry.

Low voices carried to Vin from beyond
the curtain along with the soft clatter of metal pans. The homey
sounds and scents of baking brought him little comfort. Instead his
lean belly tightened with an old grief.

His target swept out through the
curtain. The blue cloth snagged for a moment on the mass of curly
blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. The thick mane fought
against the wide band she had tied around it to keep it out of her
face. The woman balanced a tray laden with a clay pot, matching mug
and a platter of steaming biscuits. With a deft twist of her wrist,
she shifted the tray to one hand and used her other to set the
items in front of Vin.

“
Would you like syrup for
your tea, sir?”

Her gaze shocked him into
speechlessness. He’d expected to see the evil and cruelty known as
part of her bloodline. Instead, the dark brown depths reminded him
of the thick, creamy drink brewed from cocoa beans. Did sweetness
warm her eyes or guile?

“
You’re new to Hovel
Port?” She gave him no chance to answer. “We get few travelers
passing through and there’s little enough work for those settled
here. Do you need a place to stay? Moe lets out rooms if you have
trade credits. Why are you here?”

Panic rose in Vin, not fear of a
physical threat, but worry that his confusion would destroy his
thin camouflage and expose his true nature. “I’m looking for …
work.” He’d almost said you.

A thin line appeared between her eyes
and her mouth turned down. “Vannie Green does the
hiring.”

“
He owns the entire town?”
Vin had scouted the settlement from the cover of the jungle for
three days before making contact today. He hadn’t noticed a
boss-like man.

The woman laughed and inspired a twinge
in Vin’s middle again. He’d learned what emotions harmonized to
create the light sound. Nothing cruel marked her amusement, but he
understood she was laughing at something he said. He reran his
words through his mind, searching for his mistake.

“
Vannie only owns part of
this building.” Her smile grew. “He’s our unelected leader, kind of
like our mayor. If you want a job, you have to speak with
him.”

Vin hadn’t planned further than getting
a closer look at the woman. She hadn’t exited the walled confines
of the village, at least not during the time he’d watched her. He’d
learned the concept of a job. “I can perform a variety of
jobs.”

She held out her hand. “Emma Jones.
Welcome to Hovel Port. It’s hard work making a living
here.”

He folded his fingers around her small,
delicate hand. The calluses on his fingers and palms pressed into
the soft smooth warmth of her skin. He hadn’t touched a woman since
Yalo. Their gender was so fragile.

“
Your name?” Her mouth
quirked into a smile that drew and trapped his gaze.

“
Vin Smith.” He’d chosen a
name common to many men. Every settlement and planet he’d searched
in pursuit of this woman had men named Smith among the population.
He stood, remembering more polite behavior expected of
men.

She held her ground, looking up at him
from her diminutive height. The top of her head rose slightly
higher than his chin. He couldn’t tell if the scent tickling his
senses wafted from the hot biscuits or her warm skin. She laughed
and sparkles danced in her eyes. “Smith?”

“
I’ll meet this Vannie,”
Vin said to cover up his confusion. A job would keep him near
her.

“
He’ll be in soon. He eats
his evening meal here every day.” She flashed another smile at him
and then retreated behind the curtain.

Vin took his seat again and poured tea
into his mug. He studied the biscuits and decided they were meant
to be eaten with his hand. The first bite dissolved on his tongue
and flooded his mouth with the sweetness of sugar and vanilla. He
didn’t recognize the flour used in the confection. Nor could he
remember tasting anything so delicious. He finished the first
biscuit in two bites and then noticed the curtain
twitched.

The target spied on him. Vin sat back
in his chair, affecting the slouch common to men at ease. He’d
practiced in front of a mirror, though he wondered how people found
the sloppy posture comfortable. Picking up the teapot, he looked
under his lashes toward the kitchen.

Emma. He’d acquired the target and now
would set the role she would play for him. Bait.

* * * *

Emma watched the stranger from the
safety of the kitchen. He seemed an odd one but small colonies like
theirs often drew misfits. Hovel Port had fortunately not had
anyone bring trouble or violence with them.

She turned away to tend her cooking.
Men, mostly the single ones, would drift in throughout the evening.
Their demanding lives of digging and sifting through the river for
dregs washed down from the silver mine left them too tired to cook
for themselves. Most of the men had lived here for years, fiercely
proud of their freedom from any government control. The small
settlement drew no notice and made a perfect place for
Emma.

The stranger stayed on her mind. His
cold gray eyes stood out in his tanned face. Despite his attire and
the hair curled around his collar, he reeked of military origins.
His body hummed with the suppressed energy of a man on the edge of
violence.

Her former career had introduced her to
men like him. Men who had survived their time in battle but
returned to society with scars both physical and emotional. Her job
in the psychiatric medical corps had brought her in daily contact
with veterans and active military members as they battled their
nightmares. More ghosts than most swirled in the frozen gaze of the
man sitting so awkwardly at the small table.

She turned the heat back
on the oven holding the evening’s offering of chopped vegetables,
goat cheese, wild hen and her own combination of native herbs. The
dinner rolls sat in their greased pans, ready to be shoved in
alongside the casseroles. Her hands worked while her thoughts
returned again and again to Vin Smith. There seemed nothing
former
military about
Vin’s manner.

“
Seems drier than usual,”
Moe Hall huffed out as he entered the rear door of the kitchens. He
set the basket of red potatoes he’d brought along on the work table
and swiped at his brow with his thick forearm. Moe owned the café
and split the earnings with Emma. Though he helped as much as he
could in the kitchen, chopping, serving and washing dishes, he left
the cooking to her.

“
You say that every
ten-day.” Emma checked the solar clock near the only window and
decided to put the rolls in. The men always finished early on the
ten-day. The rains would move in with the dark and stay throughout
the day tomorrow, meaning no work. No work meant more customers
eating at the café during the daylight hours. “I might need more
potatoes for tomorrow.”

Moe sighed and shook his head, but a
smile played on his lips. He appreciated the extra money the
eleventh day rain brought. “I’ll get more after we serve the dinner
crowd.”

“
We have a stranger in
today,” Emma said.

Moe scowled and went to the curtain.
The big man didn’t resemble a shopkeeper with his thick arms and
deep chest. He towered over Emma and most of the men in Hovel Port
appeared as boys next to him. Making no attempt to hide his
perusal, he lifted the edge of the curtain. “Don’t like his
looks.”

Emma smiled. Moe never liked the looks
of a stranger and would keep a sharp eye on Vin.

Moe picked up a stack of plates and
walked out into the dining area. He sent glares toward Vin as he
set two plates on each table. Emma followed him, adding forks and
knives to each setting.

“
You staying for dinner?”
Moe demanded as they came to Vin’s table.

Vin swept an evaluating gaze over Moe.
“I will stay to meet Vannie Green.”

“
You’re looking for work
then?” Moe set a plate before Vin with obvious reluctance. “What
are your skills?”

Vin’s gaze slid to Emma and then back
to Moe. “I’ll tell Vannie Green.”

Emma saw Moe’s shoulders stiffen and
ducked around him. She gently set the utensils on Vin’s plate. “He
should be here soon. Moe, will you help me with the water
pitchers?”

Moe hesitated, his eyes narrowed at
Vin.

Vin rose to his feet and turned toward
the door, the move quick and fluid. Tension flowed from him to
engulf Emma.

“
What the hell?” Moe
sputtered.