Private Maneuvers: Hot Zone Book 3 Read online

  Before she could respond to his statement, wondering who had told him what about her soldier, someone really knocked on the door. “Gotta go. I’ll call you when I get to the airport in Wyoming.”

  After she hung up, she slipped out of bed and opened the door. Her soldier stood there, grim faced. He marched right in as she backed up. She closed the door.

  “You always answer the door like that?” he asked, his gaze cruising over her T-shirt clad frame. Warmth moved from her stomach up her chest and into her face as his eyes smoldered. Damn. This guy actually looked at her like some delectable dessert. She tried to remember if she’d ever seen desire rolled up with annoyance and couldn’t. Alec had never—

  No. Don’t you dare compare him with Alec. Alec was simply…Alec.

  Before she could answer, he said, “You shouldn’t open the door before you find out who it is.”

  Irritated, she said, “I know that. I don’t normally. I was on the phone with my uncle and wasn’t thinking. Besides, there’s no peephole. Makes it difficult.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So I’d appreciate if you kept the lectures to a minimum, thank you.”

  He held her glasses out and she plucked them from his fingers. “Comes with the job.”

  “Well I’m not a soldier.”

  His lips quirked. “I know.”

  “I don’t take orders.”

  “I get that.”

  They stood in awkward silence. She plopped her glasses on her nose. The world came into glorious focus. “Ah. Relief.”

  “How does the temporary fix feel?”

  “Excellent. You did a great job. Thank you.”

  “How are you feeling otherwise?”

  She scraped her hair back from her face. “Amazing. My ribs don’t even ache that much.”

  “Good. Clearwater will want to examine you later. Make sure you’re ready to travel.”

  “Believe me, I would have traveled yesterday if he hadn’t knocked me out with that painkiller.”

  “You needed the rest. Captain Wallace said Miss Bodine was so exhausted she fell asleep in the van on the way over here yesterday.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’d better go.”

  “Are you leaving the hotel?” She didn’t know why she asked.

  “We’re taking you to the airport later today. I’ll see you then.”

  She nodded, reassured. “Good.”

  Good? She didn’t want him to spend any more time around her. She should be fighting off this untamed arousal warming her from the inside out. Guilt threatened. Alec…well, how could she forget him when she couldn’t have imagined even six months ago responding physically to another man this way?

  She segued in another direction.

  “You know what? I think I heard someone say your name right before I fell asleep in the van yesterday. But I don’t remember. What is your name?”

  A brilliant and sincere smile touched his mouth. He put his hand out. “Chief Warrant Officer Jake Sullivan.”

  His hand felt every bit as deliciously strong and competent as it had yesterday. Her heartbeat quickened as his gentle grip held her prisoner. A vision of his hand coasting over her breast flooded her mind.

  Oh, no. No. Not happening.

  “I’m Marisa Clyde,” she said quickly.

  He nodded. “I know. But it’s nice to have an introduction.” He released her hand and walked over to the bedside table. He snatched the small notepad and pen sitting there. Jake wrote something on the pad and then ripped off the paper and handed it to her. “My cell number. Call me if you need anything.”

  Surprised, she stared at the paper like an idiot. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Just the same… And don’t answer the door next time without knowing who it is, okay?” With that he left the room.

  Mindful of his chastisement, she put the chain on the door. She leaned back against the hard wood and sighed. She’d lied. Her ribs ached far more than she’d said, but she realized if Jake knew about it he’d call Sergeant Clearwater. Jake would hang around, too, and the last thing she needed was a man hovering. Especially one as disturbing as Chief Warrant Officer Jake Sullivan.

  As Marisa headed to the shower, part of her felt guilty for classifying Jake. She didn’t know much about him.

  Okay, she did.

  He was protective as hell of women. Especially her. Then again, maybe he acted this way with all women.

  He was masculine. Um, make that brimming with testosterone.

  He could be extremely gentle.

  Last but not least, he made her well aware of herself as a woman. Too aware. She tossed her nightshirt onto the bed and slipped off her panties. She stepped into the bathroom and encountered the mirror above the small pedestal sink.

  So now she understood why he’d looked her over so thoroughly. Not because she possessed the fragile beauty of a heroine in a romantic suspense novel.

  There’s no way in hell the way he looked at me had anything to do with sexual attraction. Nope.

  Her hair, always a bit unruly, tossed about her head in a tangled ebony mass. Cool-toned, her pale skin seemed particularly washed out. She grabbed her facial cleanser and removed old makeup. Water on her face felt refreshing, and she sighed in relief. A small bruise marred her lower jaw. She didn’t remember how she’d gotten that.

  Maybe when the greasy, short creep named Ramon had tossed her into the seat the day before yesterday. She groaned. She didn’t want to remember that day—at least not for a while.

  As she stepped into the shower, Marisa allowed the sensual trickle of water and the soothing sounds to cleanse away the bus ordeal. She shoved away the anger. She needed to calm down and relax.

  She put her head under the water and lathered it with shampoo. Then crazy tears stung her eyes and overflowed whether she wanted them to or not. She didn’t understand where the angst originated. Not really. An ache filled her chest. She put a tight rein on the tears and shoved them down deep where she wouldn’t find them again.

  Chapter Two

  Clarksville, Wyoming—One week later

  Jake walked across the semi-empty parking lot alongside 24 San Miguel Street. Gravel crunched under his athletic shoes, mixing with the sound of a cars passing along the busy street. The old brownstone stood against the stark beauty of a bright cerulean summer sky. A cool breeze washed over his T-shirt and jeans. He wished he’d worn shorts. The temperature already headed into the low eighties.

  He stepped through the service entrance, knowing the front entrance would most likely be locked during non-business hours. The whole time, he wondered if he’d run into Marisa. He hoped to. Since he’d left her at the airport in Mexico, he’d spent the last week craving her.

  No. More than that. Wanting to drag her against him, kiss her until she moaned, until she clung to him and whimpered. He wanted her to ache as badly as he did, to desire him as much as he wanted her. And how exactly did he think he was going to accomplish that? Jesus, get a grip. She doesn’t even know you.

  He had it bad.

  And only one thing would erase her from him. Getting her into bed.

  “Jake Sullivan?” A grizzled man, with a prospector look to him, stepped out of a doorway not far from the service entrance. Jake quickly took inventory of the shorter man. Well-built, about sixty, the man wore overalls, scuffed boots. Curious blue eyes, intent and missing nothing, looked out from a wrinkled face. His salt and pepper mustache was handlebar style, but his beard was close-cut and well trimmed. A hawkish nose dominated the older man’s face.

  Jake smiled and held out his hand. “Mr. Clyde?”

  “You got me.” He shook Jake’s hand firmly. “So you must be Chief Warrant Officer Jake Sullivan. Pleased to meet you. Come into the office.”

  “Just call me Jake.”

  Jake settled into a well-worn metal chair with not much padding left in the seat while Dexter took the bigger throne on the other side of the cluttered desk. The entire office looked as if a bomb had exploded in
it with papers scattered over the big antique desk. A coffee mug with “World’s Greatest Uncle” sat on the desk.

  What the hell were all those file cabinets for if the old guy didn’t use them? Jake winced. So what? The guy had right to keep his office any way he wanted it. Just because you’re a neat freak doesn’t mean he has to be.

  “It’s great to have you here.” Dexter waved one had across the desk. “Pardon the mess. That’s one reason I need Marisa back here to help me out. I’m happy as hell she’s coming home.”

  “I’m sure she’ll do a great job for you.”

  “She’ll get me back on track. It’s about time. The last accountant I had in here…well, it was pretty much a disaster. I didn’t realize it when I hired the lady, but she had some serious issues.”

  “Issues?”

  “Mental illness. She ended up freaking out in my office a week after I hired her, crying and screaming about how no one appreciated her. We’re talking rambling and going on in a very odd way. I tried to help her, but she wouldn’t take the advice or the help. I’d suggested an appointment with a medical doctor, but she wouldn’t take it. I had to let her go. I paid her wages right then and there and she left. Haven’t seen her since. Finally figured out that I can’t manage these accounts myself anymore.” Eyes sparkling with mischief, Dexter leaned back in his chair across the desk and linked his hands over his stomach. “I’m not sure how Marisa will react to you being here.” Dexter slouched in his chair.

  Jake sniffed and relaxed somewhat. “My guess is she won’t like it much. At least at first. Until she sees I’m not a monster.”

  “Monster? Why would she think that?”

  Jake heard the slightly accusatory tone in Dexter’s voice. He knew where it came from. He probably protected her like a father would a daughter.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not a felon or a security risk. But she acted…” he shrugged, “…distant while we were in Mexico. As if she wanted to run from me as fast as she could.”

  Dexter nodded, comprehension clear in his expressive eyes. “Ah. I get it now. That explains why, when I mentioned you once, she stiffened up as if someone had shoved a poker up her back.”

  Jake winced. “That bad?”

  “That bad. Her face went concrete. She’s normally friendly. Not over the top outgoing, but fun and approachable.”

  The picture Dexter painted didn’t compute. If some other strange compulsion hadn’t drawn him to Marisa, if he hadn’t felt something in his gut from the moment he saw her, he wouldn’t be here now. He’d never had time for women who thought no more of him than a dirty soldier they could wipe off their boot.

  “She wasn’t rude,” Jake said. “I just had this feeling she generally didn’t want much to do with me.”

  Dexter fiddled with his handlebar mustache. “Hmm. That’s too bad. I don’t understand it.” Then his frown cleared. “Well, maybe I do. But I’m not sure I should talk about it. It’s up to her to explain.”

  Jake’s curiosity hit a high note, but he didn’t press Dexter for an explanation. Obviously, Dexter wanted to believe Jake hadn’t done something to deserve his niece’s antipathy.

  “Honestly I couldn’t tell you why she reacted to me that way. I’d like to ask her myself.”

  Dexter nodded, his scrutiny of Jake thoughtful. “Sometimes women are like that, aren’t they? Damned confounding creatures. My wife, Clarice, died almost twenty years ago. Never married again. Never wanted to. I realized since she was the only woman who ever made much sense to me, I wouldn’t be happy with anyone else.”

  Jake grinned. “Sounds like reasonable logic to me.”

  “There’s more to why she’s wary of you, I think.” He held his hand up when Jake started to speak. “Like I said, she’ll have to explain that herself.”

  “Fat chance.”

  Dexter snorted. “That’s what I like about you already, Jake. You know how to butter up the bar owner. He likes that.”

  Jake continued to smile when Dexter talked about himself in the third person.

  “But just because I’m a friendly guy,” Dexter said, “don’t let it confuse you. I’m savvy about everything but keeping my office clean and some of my finances. That’s why I need Marisa. And as Keith said, you’re trustworthy. He says you’re one of the best men on his team.”

  Jake’s ego beamed at the statement, but he pulled out the modesty. “That’s generous of him.”

  Dexter leaned forward in his chair and scraped aside a pile of file folders so he could put his elbows on the desk. “Don’t give me that. Keith’s a straight-up fellow. If he says the moon rises and sets on you, then I’d know it’s true.”

  “That’s an exaggeration.”

  “Well, okay. But he said plenty of other great things. And with the way you took care of my Marisa, I don’t care if she hates your guts from here to Khartoum. I appreciate what you did for her.”

  “I didn’t do much. Keith was worried as hell about Freddie and asked for my help.”

  “Yes, but a whole Special Forces team? That’s incredible.”

  Jake smiled. “We were on a vacation.”

  Dexter’s lips twisted into a yeah right expression. “Ahem. Vacation or not, you brought my niece home to me safe and sound. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

  Jake shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the praise.

  Dexter slouched even farther, and soon his head rested on the back of his chair. Jake didn’t follow Dexter’s example. Jake couldn’t relax that much until he had the lay of the land, drew up a plan, and executed it.

  Including his plan of getting Marisa into his bed.

  “Here’s the deal. Keith said you have thirty days off and you came all the way from Camp Anderson to help me for one month while my usual employee is out for an operation. Forgive me, but I can’t see one damn good reason why a young man like yourself would want to hang out in a bar and act as a bouncer. There’s probably tons of things you could do in a month that would be a hell of a lot more fun.” Disbelief marred Dexter’s expression again. “First you go on a jaunt down to Mexico to save tourists. Now you want to be a bouncer. Don’t you have a life? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll know.”

  Jake hooked one ankle over his knee. “That’s an easy answer, Mr. Clyde. My career is my life most of the time. I was in a use it or lose it category with my vacation and they basically ordered me to take thirty days.”

  “Nah, that’s not it. Not all of it. You could’ve gone parasailing or bungee jumping or whatever you thrill-seeker soldiers do.”

  Fuck. The man was smart. Jake blew out a breath. “Okay. I want to know your niece better. That’s my sole reason for coming up here.”

  Jake held his breath. Dexter would kick him out the door on his ass right about now.

  Instead the man grinned widely. “Now that’s what I like. A man who speaks his truth. I knew something happened between you and Marisa, and I hoped it wasn’t bad.”

  “Because then you’d have to kick my teeth in, right?”

  Dexter laughed, the sound echoing around the small office. “You got it, Jake. I may not look it, but in my youth I was a fair boxer.” He pointed to the photographs above a credenza on the other side of the room. “As you can see boxing was my life early on. Then I met my wife. She twisted my arm and I realized I wanted to be with her more than having a half-assed boxing career. Anyway, wouldn’t take much to land a good one on your jaw.”

  Jake didn’t doubt him, even if he owned tricks Dexter wouldn’t have thought about in a million years. He didn’t come here to brag about whether he could fight. He knew what he could do.

  “I’ll be straight up with you, Dexter. When I first saw your niece I was blown away. Gut punched.”

  Dexter laughed and slouched yet again. Any lower in his chair and he’d disappear. “Good.”

  Good.

  Christ, he’d never thought it would be that easy.

  Dexter lost his noodle-like relaxation and left his chai
r. He stood and stared out the single window at the brick wall beyond. “There’s another reason I want you here. I’ve got a nice old house on Sunset. A tiny thing, but nice. Marisa insisted on taking one of the apartments upstairs rather than staying with me. Said she wanted time alone to think. Fine, I said. But this is a big building, and I don’t like her alone at night after the bar closes. Sure, she can take care of herself, but I’d feel better if you took the second apartment. Would you keep an eye on her?”

  Fuck yes, Jake wanted to yell.

  Nothing would give him a better chance of getting closer to her than by living in the same building. “No problem. You can count on me.”

  “One other thing,” Dexter said. “I’ve received some damned weird calls the last month. I haven’t told her.”

  A prickle of awareness, of certainty that he should listen with a close ear, set off alarms in Jake. “Prank calls?”

  “Threats.”

  Jake rose from his chair as the hair on the back of his neck prickled. “What kind?”

  Dexter’s shoulders shifted upward, then down in an expansive shrug. “A muffled voice says that I’ll pay for my sins.”

  “Any pattern to when you get the calls?”

  Dexter hooked his thumbs in the overall straps. “None. They come in all times of day. The voice is a whisper, but it sounds like a man’s voice. That’s about all.”

  Concern built within Jake. “Any idea who it could be?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Jake nodded, a funny feeling growing in his stomach. “If I had any doubts about working for you, Dexter, that just cleared it right up. I don’t want Marisa alone in this building either.”

  Dexter turned back to Jake, his expression reflective. “I know the measure of a man not long after I’ve met him, Jake. And you’re a damned good one. Hurt my niece, though, and I’ll have to flatten your face.”

  Jake ejected a strangled laugh at the other man’s bluntness. “Yes, sir.”

  “I can’t believe it,” a female voice said from behind Jake.

  He started and turned.

  “Marisa,” her uncle said. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough,” she said, hands on hips and anger stitched between her eyebrows. “Long enough to know both of you are treading on dangerous territory. I don’t want or need either one of you to rescue me from imaginary dangers.” Her voice rose enough to show her perturbation. “What’s got into you, Uncle Dexter?”