The Phoenix (9 page)

“Once again, the same goal,” he told her.

Her gaze narrowed. “Then you should prepare yourself to be doubly disappointed.” She stood firm and lifted her chin, and the smirk that tilted her lips was knowing and a bit sad. He knew an instant of irrational regret, but squashed it with the reminder of what was riding on this assignment.

His job, his new identity, his livelihood…his new place in the world. He hadn’t realized just how important those things were to him until just this second.

An inopportune moment for an epiphany, but there it was.

Jay hadn’t recognized just how much he’d counted on being a soldier to define who he was, to give him purpose. Did he regret leaving? No, not really. He regretted that he couldn’t effectively execute the job, that he’d walked out of that building miraculously unharmed when his comrades had been so terribly hurt. He could still hear their screams, the smell of burning flesh and singed hair, the agony. Bile rose in his throat at the reminder and he determinedly swallowed, forcing the images back.

Survivor’s guilt, the shrink had said.

Whatever.

Just because it had a name didn’t make it any easier to deal with. It was a label, nothing more. A point of reference for people who didn’t have any idea what he was feeling.

And at the moment, he was feeling unreasonably infuriated. Because she’d found something that he’d missed. Because she was diabolically quick and intimidatingly confident. Because he was thwarted and angry and unaccustomed to this sort of insubordination.

But she wasn’t his subordinate and he wasn’t her commanding officer, and he had no authority over her whatsoever. He couldn’t make her do a damned thing she didn’t want to, Jay realized.

He watched the pulse beat rapidly beneath the pale skin of her throat, her mossy irises narrow as her pupils dilated, her lips part for a shallow breath.

It took a moment for his muddled mind to connect her reactions into a single response, but when he did it was a game changer.

There
was
something he could make her want.

Gratifyingly, it was him.

6

THE SHIFT FROM IRRITATED to self-satisfied transformed Jay’s face so swiftly that it instilled an inexplicable panic right into Charlie’s rapidly beating heart.

She didn’t trust that look. It…unnerved her.

“It’s peanut butter,” she blurted out, much to her instant consternation.

He blinked, thankfully, and drew back. “What?”

“On the wall,” she said. She bent low and pointed. “It’s only a smear, but that’s what it is.”

He joined her, his shoulder bumping hers as he lowered his considerable frame. She could smell him, too, something warm and musky with woodsy undertones. It did something to her insides, the combination of all that masculinity and scent made her middle feel gooey and her hands shake.

So,
so
unfortunate.

Him, of all people, inspiring this sort of unprecedented—she struggled to find a good enough word for this feeling and ultimately had to call it what it was—
lust.
Pure and simple animal attraction. He must have some truly potent pheromones, Charlie decided, barely managing to get her scrabbling thoughts back into order.

“You’re right,” he murmured, looking exceedingly grim that he’d missed it. He glanced along the rest of the wall and inspected the ground directly beneath the smudge. “No bird feeders nearby, so that eliminates that possibility.”

“She was baited,” Charlie said, pushing up once more. She looked from him to the wall then back again. “Give me a boost.”

His distracted gaze swiveled to hers. “What?”

“I want to get a look at the top of the wall.”

He continued to stare at her as though she’d spoken in a foreign language. Charlie exhaled heavily. “Fine. I’ll ask for a ladder.” She turned and started to walk away.

“No,” he said, seemingly coming to his senses. “I was just under the impression that we weren’t going to work together.”

“We’re not,” she said, stepping into his laced fingers. She braced a hand on one brawny shoulder and resisted the urge to bite her fist. “But you’re tall and time is of the essence. In this instance, it only makes sense.”

That logic, she knew, didn’t hold water. If it held true here, then it was going to have to hold true at other times.

But she had something else in mind, so ultimately it didn’t matter.

With a quick jump against his hand, she popped up onto the wall.

“Hey! What are you doing? Get down from there!”

Charlie held on tightly, then swung her legs over to the other side. “Okay,” she said, shooting him a triumphant smile before dropping down to the ground.

“What the fu— Charlie!”

“Thanks, Jay,” she called. “You saved me a long walk.”

A fuming pause, then, “Well, what do you see?”

“Grass, mostly,” she said, walking carefully along the fence line. She glanced from where she stood to the front of the property. There was no fence along the front lawn, so anybody wanting to grab the dog out here would have easy access. Along the sides, there was lots of tree and shrub cover, but there was nothing close enough for anyone to use to easily scale the wall. If someone had baited Truffles with the peanut butter—and she fully believed they had—then how the hell had they gotten her over the wall?

Curious as to what was behind the back fence as well, Charlie decided to head that way first. Strictly speaking, she was trespassing, but under the circumstances she imagined she could talk her way out of it in the event anyone approached her. She slipped behind various bushes and tree limbs, careful to look for disturbed ground or a missed clue. Other than a few scraps of trash she was certain had been neglected by the grounds crew, she came up empty-handed.

Damn.

“That was sneaky,” Jay drawled as he rounded the corner, an impressed smirk tilting his lips. It was
insane
the things that little grin did to her insides.

“I like
efficient
better,” she said, trying to suppress a smile.

He snorted. “You would.” His thorough gaze slid from one end of her to the other, lingering along the curve of her hip and the swell of her breasts. “Not injured, I presume?”

Whoa.
“From that little jump?” she scoffed. “Hardly.”

“It’s an eight-foot fence.”

“And I’m five feet tall. Do the math, Ranger Boy.”

A single brow lifted. “Ranger Boy?”

“You’re a former Ranger, right?”

“That doesn’t sound like a guess,” he said, studying her more intently. Those keen eyes were capable of being much more direct than she would have liked and, for the first time since she’d met him, she saw evidence of a genuine opponent. He was affable, certainly, and charming, if she were honest…but he was a modern-day warrior, as well.

She’d do well to remember that.

“You work for Ranger Security,” she said, moving around him once more. She wanted to check out the property on the other side of the Betterworth estate as well, just to make sure that she wasn’t missing anything. “It only stands to reason.”

Predictably, he fell into step behind her. “Maybe so, but my bullshit radar tells me that’s not how you knew.”

Perceptive. More so than she’d imagined. Another error in judgment she couldn’t afford. “What does it matter how I knew?”

His voice developed a distinct edge. “Something tells me that’s a key piece of information I need to have.”

She pushed aside a branch and ducked behind another shrub, ignoring the strong impulse to flee. She’d be damned before she’d run from him. “You hear voices?” She tsked under her breath. “That’s a bad sign. Perhaps you should talk to someone about it.”

“You’ve proven that you’re a smart ass,” he said, clearly exasperated. “Now answer the question.”

She picked up her pace, but his longer legs easily made up the distance. “You didn’t ask a question. You stated your suspicions. Technically, I don’t owe you an answer.”

He laughed darkly. “Another purposely evasive answer, which means I’m right, otherwise you wouldn’t be making the effort.”

“Or I simply want to annoy you.” She tossed a wave at Burt as she continued on to the other side of the fence. “Have you thought of that?”

“You have no reason to want to annoy me,” he said. “I don’t know you and, ostensibly, you don’t know me, therefore there’s no past history to interfere with what should be a simple working relationship. That you clearly want to annoy me means that this is personal. And since I don’t know you—have never heard of you until today—it only stands to reason that you do know me. Or at least
of
me.”

She couldn’t argue with that well-reasoned rationale, so didn’t bother trying. With a huff of resignation, she drew up short and turned around to face him.

Only he wasn’t right behind her as he’d been only seconds ago. He’d stopped several feet back and was inspecting something in his hand. Oh, hell. Now
she’d
missed something.

She backtracked only to watch him slide the mystery item into his front pocket. He smiled down at her, the wretch.

“What did you have there?” she asked. She’d told him about the peanut butter, dammit. Tit for tat, right?

“How do you know me?”

She blinked innocently at him. “I don’t know you.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek and appeared to be summoning patience from a higher source. Irrationally, she got a perverse sense of pleasure from this.

“How do you know
of
me?”

He was going to find out soon enough, anyway, Charlie told herself. The instant he called in to Ranger Security to update his bosses on the status of the case he was certain to mention her involvement and the cat would be out of the bag, as it were.

At least this way she could enjoy his reaction. And she wouldn’t have to tell him everything.

“I hacked into their computer system several weeks ago and saw your file,” she said, lifting her chin. “Quite impressive. All-star pitcher at Pennyroyal High, ROTC scholarship to the University of South Carolina, completed Jump School at the top of your class, HALO training.” She reeled off the majority of what she’d read and watched his expression slowly atrophy.

She wasn’t sure if he was more angry or appalled, but his displeasure practically thundered off him like lightning off pavement. He’d gone white around the mouth and, though she knew she must have imagined it, she thought she caught a fleeting glimpse of fear lighting his blistering, mad-as-hell gaze. But that couldn’t have been right. What did he have to be afraid of? What secret was he afraid she’d uncovered?

She’d gone too far, she knew, but was too proud to admit any contrition. In her experience, when she gave a guy an inch, he’d take a mile. And she instinctively knew that any ground she lost with Jay Weatherford was going to be doubly hard to regain. Still, something about his expression—that single look of vulnerability—haunted her, gave her pause.

He glared at her for what felt like an eternity, then turned abruptly on his heel and left without saying another word.

“DID YOU KNOW?” JAY asked Payne without preamble when his new boss answered the phone.

A significant, telling pause ensued.

Jay swore and sat heavily on his bed.

“You’ve met her already?” Payne asked.

Admittedly, he was new to the job and unfamiliar with the rules, but this was bullshit. Payne was his boss, not his commanding officer, and if the former Ranger expected blind obedience, then clearly he’d hired the wrong man.

She’d read his file.

He didn’t have a fucking clue what was in the damned file, but given the level of expertise Ranger Security was known for, he couldn’t imagine that it was anything less than thorough.