He paused, a slow-dawning smile sliding across his lips. “In my truck.”
“You never said that.”
“It was implied.”
“I must have missed that.”
“Julia.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Guy” she finally said, exasperated. She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “Just get in the damned car. We’re going to be late.”
“It’s a chick car,” he grumbled under his breath. He scooted the seat back and reluctantly climbed inside.
Julia smiled, started the car and pulled away from the curb. “It’s a Volkswagon. Men drive them, too.”
“Men don’t drive Bugs. Especially baby blue ones,” he added grimly.
“Men who are confident in their masculinity don’t mind.”
He grunted under his breath and scowled adorably at the flower in the cup-holder of her dash. “Spoken like a true chick.”
“Do you want to tell me where we’re going?”
He slid her a slightly smug glance. “Where’s your map?”
“Beneath your ass.”
Guy laughed and looked away. “I can’t win, can I?”
Julia felt her lips twitch. “Are we playing a game?”
Guy sighed and his strangely puzzled gaze drifted over her face, making her belly clench. “No, but I think I’m losing anyway.”
“Tell me where we going,” she said, warmed by that hot green stare.
Guy did and in five minutes they’d pulled into the parking lot. Julia climbed from the car and snagged her attaché case. Guy merely adjusted his shades and seemed to be bracing himself for what was to come.
“I’m looking forward to hearing what you have to say to these guys,” Julia told him. “You must have several good stories to tell.”
Guy smiled, seemingly recognizing the gesture for what it was--a vote of confidence. “Some,” he conceded. “Come on,” he told her, snugging a finger into the small of her back and nudging her forward. “Let’s get this over with.”
Outfitted in serviceable beige tile and painted cinderblock walls, the educational building was functional with no frills. The scent of bleach, sweat and various men’s colognes hung in the air and an occasional potted plant offered the vaguest attempt of décor. Guy unerringly led them to their classroom, then his mouth set in a grim, resigned line, he opened the door for her and ushered her in.
Four men sat in regular classroom chairs at the front of the room and each one of them turned around as they entered.
“Speak of the devil,” one of the men said in a heavily sarcastic voice Julia recognized from last night. A gust of dread blindsided her.
Oh, God.
Richard Rutland.
Behind her Guy went dangerously still. Julia turned around in time to watch he and Rutland lock gazes. Guy’s was hard and ominous, while Rutland’s seem positively--evilly--delighted.
“Give me your keys,” Guy said in a voice so devoid of emotion it practically thundered in the suddenly silent room.
Julia did.
Oy. Apparently men did drive baby blue Bugs.
CHAPTER 7
Gladys mouth worked up and down in apparent surprise, then she shot up from the chair behind her desk as though she’d been poked in the ass with a straight pin. “Sir-- McCann-- Stop! You can’t just barge in there!”
“The hell I can’t,” Guy said, striding into Garrett’s office. “Hide and watch me.” The Colonel’s startled blue gaze swung to his and Guy knew instantly that the older man knew exactly why he was here.
His brow wrinkled into an annoyed line. “McCann--“
Guy planted both fists in the middle of Garrett’s desk and leaned forward. “What the hell are you playing at?” His voice was so hard he barely recognized it as his own.
“What do you mean?”
“Fuck it,” Guy said, instantly disgusted. He wasn’t going to play word games with Garrett. The crafty old bastard knew exactly why he was here and yet he wanted to pretend to be thick? Waste more of his time? His life? Guy drew back and pivoted on his heel. “I’m through. I don’t owe you a goddamned thing. Debt paid, Garrett.”
Guy heard Garrett’s chair slam against the credenza behind his desk. “Wait.”
Guy didn’t know what made him turn around--the fact that Garrett had actually vaulted out of his chair or the slight hint of desperation he heard in the old man’s voice. “What?”
Ashen-faced, his brow dotted with perspiration, Garrett gestured toward a chair. “Please hear me out.”
Guy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the door. “I’ll stand. You have thirty seconds. Don’t mince words and don’t leave anything out. I. Am. Done. Do I make myself clear?”
Clearly shaken, Garrett resumed his seat. “I’m assuming you’re here because of Rutland?”
Guy grunted and felt a smirk roll around his lips. “That’s why you’re the Colonel. You just wasted five seconds.”
Garrett paused, seemingly at a loss. He sighed and in that instant he aged ten years right before Guy’s eyes. “He’s the best we’ve got, McCann. The cream of the crop is in that room right now and unfortunately--like it or not--he’s part of it.”
Guy snorted darkly. “Well, if he’s the best you’ve got, then you need to scrap this plan altogether because it won’t work.”
He felt betrayed, Guy realized. He’d always secretly suspected that Garrett had been proud of he, Jamie and Payne when they’d put that arrogant bastard in his place. And yet he wanted Guy to teach him? Work with a man who absolutely no respect for his fellow peers? For the risks they took, the lives which had been lost?
He couldn’t do it.
Wouldn’t.
“I can’t scrap it,” Garrett said, seemingly agitated. “I need this to work, McCann. That’s why I brought you here, dammit. You’re the only guy who can make it happen. I have faith in you.”
Then that made one of them, Guy thought, smothering a grunt of derision.
“My back’s against the wall,” Garrett finally--reluctantly--admitted. “If this team isn’t successful, I might as well retire.”
“Would that be so bad?”
Garrett smiled sadly. “For a man like me? Yes.”
The man was old and in fear of becoming a has-been. He’d become the job--it defined him--and retiring clearly meant losing his identity. Guy felt sorry for him, he really did. But favor or not, honor be damned, he couldn’t do this. It would never work.
Guy released a pent-up breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Colonel, I have always had the utmost respect for you, but I won’t work with Rutland--and you know why. Danny was my friend--more than a friend--and I won’t help a man take his place who had so little respect for the life he lost.” He lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “If he’s the best you’ve got, then we’re both wasting our time.”
Garrett sighed as though he fully expected Guy’s response. “Do you have an alternate suggestion?”
“Eliminate him. Poll the other guys for a replacement. Trust is key here and they’ll never trust Rutland, and if they do they’re idiots. You know as well as I do that Project Chameleon doesn’t have room for idiots.”
Furthermore, given Rutland’s penchant for running off at the mouth, Guy knew he’d have a helluva time getting them to trust him now. No doubt the mangy SOB had already filled them in on his failure and undermined his authority. Guy mentally swore, his mouth went dry and nausea crept up the back of his throat.
He’d have to tell them about Danny.
Garrett studied Guy, seemed to be weighing his advice.
“This is a deal breaker, Colonel. Who do you need worse--him or me?”
“Send him to me,” Garrett said without hesitation. His brows formed an intimidating line. “This had better work, McCann. The remainder of my career is riding on it.”
“Trust me. It’s the only way it’ll work.”
Satisfied and looking forward to wiping the smug sm
ile off Rutland’s face, Guy backtracked across base, parked Julia’s little car as close to the building as he could and then made his way back upstairs to the classroom.
In the middle of dispensing hand-outs, Julia’s questioning gaze swung to his as he re-entered the room. “--and p-please give it a careful read before coming back to class tomorrow. There’s a questionnaire in the back which will help us determine how each of you, on an individual basis, learns to trust.”
Guy strolled to the front of the classroom and joined Julia. He felt his lips slide into a smile and his gaze found Rutland’s. He paused, savoring the moment. This is for you, Danny. Not as good as decking him, but it’d do in a pinch. “Colonel Garrett would like to see you.”
Rutland’s jaw tensed. “I’ll go after class. I’d hate to miss anything you’re going to teach us.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll be hating it. He wants to see you now.” Guy jerked his head toward the door, dismissing him. “Collect your things and go.”
Rutland laughed and shook his head. Hate blazed from his eyes. “Got me bounced, didn’t you?”
Guy nodded once and a hard smile curled his lips. “Count on it.”
From the corner of his eye he caught Julia’s pleased expression and for whatever reason, that tiny smile and look of satisfaction in those clear green eyes made him want to beat his chest and roar like a true Neanderthal. She was proud of him, Guy realized, and the idea made him feel positively...wonderful.
Grumbling under his breath, but not loud enough for Guy to understand what he was saying, Rutland gathered his things--loudly, of course--and slammed the door on his way out.
Guy surveyed the other three men in front of him, gauging their response. One guy--O’Malley--according to the white sticky name tag adhered to his shirt--Julia’s work, no doubt, he thought stifling a smile--looked openly relieved.
Jamie, Guy thought.
His gaze shifted to the next man--Holt. Cool, impassive, the perfect poker face. He kept his own council and you wouldn’t know his opinion unless he chose to share it with you.
Payne.
Guy surveyed the last man in the room, a dark-haired clear-eyed man named Mitchell who met his gaze directly. Smart, a bit cocky and from the vaguest hint of relief in his gaze, he too was glad to see the backside of Rutland leaving this crew. He smiled at Guy and gave a slight up-nod of appreciation.
And him, Guy realized, recognizing the similarities.
“Richard Rutland will no longer be a part of this unit,” Guy said. “I’ve spoken with Colonel Garrett and he’s given me permission to poll the three of you for a replacement.” He paused, letting the statement sink in. “Any recommendations?”
The three men looked at each other and though no one said a word, Holt finally spoke up. “Jack Anderson.”
Guy looked to the other two men. “Anderson is a stand-up guy,” Mitchell said, adding his approval.
O’Malley nodded once, indicating a decisive nature. “I’d want him at my back.”
“Will he be interested in becoming part of this unit?”
“Definitely,” Mitchell told him.
Guy nodded and set his hands at his waist. “Good. I’ll alert Colonel Garrett of the replacement and see to it that Anderson reports ASAP.” He glanced at each of them in turn. “Any questions?” A thousand hung in the air, but no one voiced any, so Guy merely nodded. “Okay. I’m former Lt. Colonel Guy McCann and I was unit commander of Project Chameleon until the death of a good friend of mine.”
Better to address it head-on, Guy thought, bracing himself for the confession. He hadn’t truly spoken of Danny’s death to anyone since it had happened--with Jamie and Payne he hadn’t had to. They’d gotten it, had known what he’d been going through without him having to spell it out for them. Words hadn’t been necessary. Grief had had a language all its own.
“Danny Levinson was killed in action during our last mission. We were ambushed.” He paused, swallowed as the memory threatened to smother him. “At that point my remaining unit partners and I decided to leave the military. We currently run a security and PI business in Atlanta. I’m here because Colonel Garrett has asked me to be here. I’m here to share my experience, the good, the bad and the ugly.” He smiled. “Welcome to the big leagues, gentleman. Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER 8
“How’d you do it?” Julia asked the minute the men left the room. If she sounded impressed, it’s because she was.
Guy had been...phenomenal.
She’d realized, of course that becoming a Ranger was no easy task--that only the best of the best were accepted into Ranger School--and that it took a truly spectacular soldier to be selected for a elite special forces team.
But for whatever reason, she hadn’t realized that this wounded, irreverent, sexy bad boy had been one of them.
She’d known it...but she hadn’t appreciated it.
Today she’d gotten a glimpse of the kind of soldier he’d been and the pain he was still dealing with as a result of the death of his friend. His description of the event had been short and to the point, but the pain, anguish and ultimate responsibility she’d heard in his voice had been utterly heart-wrenching. It had penetrated her own chest and she’d had to forcibly resist laying her hand upon his sleeve in a gesture of comfort.
He wouldn’t accept it, of course, because he didn’t feel like he deserved anyone’s comfort. Guy was clearly wallowing in the guilt as penance for an accident that he had no way of controlling, and yet experience told her that until he was ready to forgive himself, he wouldn’t be receptive to hearing her opinion.
Or anyone else’s for that matter.
As for how he’d handled this class, Julia fully understood why Garrett had bet his future career on Guy McCann. He hadn’t kept her participation in this class a secret because he hadn’t trusted Guy--he’d done it to ensure his participation. He’d needed him that desperately.
Without the slightest discernible hesitation, Guy had walked right in and commanded the room, but more importantly, he’d waded into a bad situation and commanded the respect of this new up-and-coming team. The relief of having Richard Rutland walk out of this room had been practically palpable, then putting the decision of the replacement in their hands had been a pure stroke of genius.
Talk about building instant trust, Julia thought, smiling at Guy.
He paused and a crooked grin spread across that incredibly sexy mouth. Her nipples tingled, just looking at him. “What?” he asked.
“What what?”
“You’re staring at me.”
Julia shrugged. “I asked you a question and am still waiting for a response.”
He arched a brow.
“How did you do it? How did you get rid of Rutland?”
Guy shrugged. “I gave Garrett my professional opinion--“
She’d just bet he did, Julia thought, wishing like hell she could have witnessed that.
“--and he decided that he should listen to me.”
She leaned a hip against the desk and regarded him with amusement. “You threatened to walk out, didn’t you?”
Guy flashed a smile at her. “It’s possible.”
“Probable, I’d say.”
He sidled closer to her, purposely crowding into her personal space. A sigh leaked out of her lungs, making her quivering belly deflate like a spent party balloon. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
Julia rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot wrapped in a moron. I would never presume to try and figure you out.”
He jerked his head in one of those confident up-nods. “Maybe so...but you want me.”
She flattened her lips to keep from smiling. Geez, Lord had she ever met a guy with any more confidence? “You’re awfully full of yourself.”
His eyes twinkled with wicked humor. “You could be full of me, too, if you’d just say the word.”
An image of Guy McCann, naked, hot, needy and hard, poised between her
thighs, nudging deep leapt instantly to mind, making her womb clench and soaking her panties with wet, moist heat. “Wh-what word?” Julia asked a little breathlessly.
He leaned forward and planted a lingering sweet kiss on her terrible nose, causing a rush of emotion to clog in her throat. He probably had no idea what he’d just done--how much that tender gesture had meant--and yet Julia knew it was the beginning of the end for her. A few more days in his company and she’d be head over heels in love, planning happily-ever-after’s and til-death-do-us part’s.
Crazy, when she knew he was a player. That’s why she’d picked him, right? Because he was so damned good at catch and release.
“Now,” Guy told her meaningfully. “The word is now. And the instant you say it, baby, I’ll prove to you that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. Eeyore and those other bastards have got it all wrong,” he said, sliding a finger down the side of her face. “You are...” He paused, seemingly searching for the right words. “You are so damned sexy I’ve kept a perpetual hard on since the minute I saw you. I look at you and the first thing I want to do it pull that hair down, strip you naked, then back your delectable ass up against the wall and take you until we both scream. I want to taste every part of you--white parts, pink parts and all parts in between.” He leaned in and kissed her hard, leaving no room for any error in her mind. It was thrilling and wonderful and she so desperately wanted to believe him. “One word,” he repeated softly. “And I’m yours.”
Julia blinked drunkenly, trying to reassemble her thoughts. I’m yours... Now there was a heady, almost irresistible thought. Guy McCann--Colonel Wicked--hers.
Seemingly recognizing that coherent thought had completely abandoned her, Guy grinned at her. “What was that word again?”
“Now.”
His gaze darkened. “Excellent. I thought you’d never ask.”
Before she fully realized what he was about, he shut the classroom door and locked it with a purposeful click.
“Wait, Guy. I--“
“You said now,” he said, sidling swiftly back to her. “Don’t you remember?” Those clear green eyes tangled with hers, effectively snatching the breath from her lungs, and the next second he was on her.
Men Out of Uniform: 6 Book Omnibus Page 39
