And if Garrett had left him out of the loop again, there’d be hell to pay.
ANOTHER UNEXPECTED PERSONAL revelation, Julia thought as they made their way across the parking lot. Evidently she had a bloodthirsty streak because she’d actually been impressed and amazingly turned on by the testosterone show she’d just witnessed.
Her? Sexually excited over the possibility of a fight?
What the hell was happening to her?
She’d pegged Guy for a hell-raising bad ass, the epitome of an alpha male—a modern-day pirate, Julia thought and mercy, she’d always had a weakness for pirates—but watching him morph from charming date to guard dog had been nothing short of amazing. That guy—Rutland, he’d called him—had been a total ass and, after the shock of the confrontation, Julia had been secretly hoping that Guy would deck him.
He was a protector in every sense of the word and that, to her ultimate surprise, was an absolutely thrilling turn on. A sexy irreverent warrior.
Mercy, what a combination.
Guy’d gotten right up in Rutland’s face and looked like he would have not only beat the ever-loving hell out of him, but would have enjoyed doing it. He’d been provoked, he’d stood his ground, then had taken the other guy’s.
A rush of heat landed in her womb and she slid him a sidelong glance. Dear God, she was nearly giddy.
“Sorry about that,” Guy told her sheepishly as they made their way across the parking lot. He hit the keyless remote, unlocking the doors, then opened hers for her.
Julia slid into the cab of his truck. “Don’t be,” she said, still thrumming from the excitement. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He paused to look at her. “You’re not embarrassed?” he asked cautiously.
“Not at all.” She grinned, still impressed. “But I’m sure that he is.”
Guy paused and cocked his head as though he didn’t know quite what to make of her. “My God,” he said softly. “You liked that, didn’t you?”
“No,” Julia lied, blushing. “That would be ghoulish. I didn’t like that you were going to get into a fight…but I liked knowing you would win.” Talk about hot. That was hot.
He chuckled at her, seemingly bewildered, then climbed behind the wheel.
“Who was that guy, anyway?” she asked. “What did he mean about Garrett and you being the prodigal son he’d never had?”
Dusk was slowing giving way to night, painting the sky in a dark cornflower blue and the absence of light created a cozy intimacy in the small cab of his truck. She watched Guy’s jaw harden as he considered her questions.
“That guy was Richard Rutland. He’s an ass. And as for what he meant about Garrett… I’m not exactly sure yet.” He aimed his truck back toward the base and didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.
This was clearly his territory, but from if she’d followed Rutland correctly, it sounded like Garrett’s leadership was being called into question. She shared her theory with Guy. “Does that make sense to you?”
Guy nodded. “Garrett’s on old warhorse. He handpicked our team and our successes were his coup.”
“So he’s counting on the success of this new team to prove that he’s still got it, then?”
He nodded, still lost in his own thoughts. “That sounds like an accurate assessment, yes.” Guy swore softly, as though a sudden realization had occurred to him.
From what Julia had been able to make of Guy and Rutland’s confrontation, they’d tangled once before and evidently Guy’s friends had been part of it. But what had they fought over? What would make them so angry that they’d all three lay into him? Julia wondered. Yes, he was a provoking ass…but three to one? Those were hardly fair odds.
“So you’ve fought with Rutland before?” Julia ventured, mining for more details. Over a woman maybe?
A muscle ticked in his jaw and he swallowed before responding. “Yes, I have.”
Dangerous territory, she could tell, but… “Why?”
“Because he mouthed off about a good friend of mine—a member of my unit who didn’t make it back from our last mission—and, since he didn’t show proper respect, Payne, Jamie and I decided we should teach him a little.” He paused. “Jamie, Payne, Danny and I…we’d been friends since college, met in the ROTC program at the University of Alabama. It was tough losing him.”
Julia didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but that certainly wasn’t it. Issues, she remembered. Guy McCann had issues and she’d just learned the source behind them. Her heart squeezed. “I’m sorry,” Julia said softly, not altogether sure how to respond.
So that’s why he was former military then. She could certainly understand that. As team leader, no doubt he felt responsible for the death of his friend, regardless of whether or not he was actually at fault. Men were like that and this one in particular would be, Julia knew.
Guy pulled up in front of the duplex and shifted into park. He looked tired all of the sudden—tense, like he’d been this morning in Garrett’s office. He didn’t want to be here, Julia realized. If the death of his friend had been bad enough to send him out of the military, then being back here had to be excruciating. So why come back? What had made him leave his new life—the one she imagined he’d created to replace the old damaged one—and do Garrett’s bidding?
Julia’s lips curled as understanding dawned. He was here for the same reason she was—to repay a debt.
A snippet of conversation floated back to her, opening another window of insight.
Off base, again, Rutland, just like old times. Only this time the only person who’d get their ass called on the carpet is you…
Julia had enough military understanding from her father to know that fighting—particularly off base—was a big no-no.
“What’s Garrett got on you?” Julia finally asked, though she had a pretty good idea.
His turned to face her. “What do you mean?”
“You left the military after the death of a good friend. You obviously don’t want to be here.” She shrugged. “I’m here because my dad owes Garrett. You owe him something, too, right?”
A grim smile rolled around Guy’s lips. “You’re quick.”
“And curious,” she said, shooting his line right back at him. “What do you owe Garrett?”
“A favor,” Guy said simply. “I gave him a favor in return for my freedom. We all did.”
“You mean your other two friends? Who are they again?”
“Jamie Flanagan and Brian Payne. The fight with Rutland put a flag on our clearance papers. Uncle Sam wasn’t happy about losing us to start with and that fight… Well, let’s just say it could have held us up indefinitely. Garrett made sure that didn’t happen and his price was a favor. One from each of us. He’s called theirs in already. They’re done with him.” A weak but determined smile caught the corner of his mouth. “And as soon as I finish out this week, I am, too.”
And from the tone of his voice, that couldn’t come soon enough.
6
Atlanta
“I DON’T LIKE THIS,” Jamie Flanagan said as he snapped his cell shut. He and Payne currently sat in Samuel’s Pub, their usual haunt and his favorite place to get hot wings and good Irish whiskey. Audrey—his increasingly moody and beautifully pregnant wife—was watching a chick flick with Payne’s fiancé, Emma. Pleading boredom, Jamie and Payne had escaped to the pub, which was where Guy had finally caught them on Jamie’s cell.
“Don’t like what?” Payne asked.
“His first day back on base and Guy’s already ran into Rutland.” Miserable bastard, Jamie thought. He’d never hated a person more. In fact, he’d never hated anybody but Rutland.
Payne’s expression blackened. “I don’t like it, either.”
“He saw him at Frank’s. Said Rutland was being a smug ass.”
“That certainly fits his profile.” Payne tipped back his beer. “When was he not a smug ass?”
Jamie chuckled and took a drink of whiskey. “He wasn�
��t so smug when we were beating the hell out of him, was he?”
Looking more relaxed than Jamie had ever seen him, Payne grinned, conceding the point. “There is that. But he deserved it.”
Jamie had been in his share of fights over the years, particularly when he was younger, but the older he’d gotten, the more he’d learned to control his temper. Rutland had provoked them many times, but the night he’d ran his mouth about Danny had been the last damned straw.
He’d snapped and Guy and Payne had followed suit.
“Guy’s convinced that Garrett has left him in the dark again.” Payne had already told him about Julia Beckam and passed around her mug shot. Truthfully, they’d all gotten a kick out of it. Leave it to Garrett to pair Guy up with a sentimental how-does-that-make-you-feel? hottie.
Jamie had already gotten married—the best damned decision he’d ever made—and Payne and Emma were unexpectedly tying the knot this weekend and in a unique way—the bride didn’t have any idea. Jamie grinned. If Guy brought this Julia Beckam home and kept her, then they were going to all have to thank Garrett, or at the very least nickname him Colonel Cupid.
Jamie selected a hot wing and dipped in a pool of cool ranch dressing. “From what Guy picked up from Rutland, brass is sounding off about Garrett losing his touch and is waving the retirement flag at him.”
Payne frowned. “Garrett? Retire? I can’t imagine him taking that well.”
Him, either, Jamie thought. “That’s why he’s called in Guy. He pulled together Project Chameleon’s replacement team and headlined the former team leader as an instructor.” Jamie shrugged and let go a long breath. “My guess is he’s trying to prove that he’s still got it and Guy’s his ace in the hole.”
Payne paused consideringly, that cool pragmatic mind working. “If Garrett’s hid something else from him, his ace in the hole is going to turn into a friggin’ land mine. And I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be around when he detonated.”
Jamie snorted. “Nobody in their right mind would.”
GUY RAPPED LIGHTLY ON Julia’s door and waited for her to appear. They’d agreed last night before parting ways that riding together to the educational center made more sense than driving separately. If she hadn’t been feeling sorry for him, Guy knew she would have put up an argument. Simply for the sake of argument, he thought with a grin. As it was, though he hated being pitied, he had to admit that he didn’t mind that her sympathy had worked to his advantage.
He didn’t have any idea how she had slept, but rest hadn’t come easy to him last night. Between knowing that she was next door, her hair probably down and practically naked in a nightie, and laboring under the mistaken impression that there was something wrong with her sexual performance… God, how he wanted to remedy that notion for her and his imagination had obligingly called up many different lessons, each one more depraved than the last. Not to mention worrying about conducting this friggin’ class today, Guy’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point.
Being here was hard enough, made him feel like the ultimate fraud—who was he to teach these boys when he’d betrayed his own team by allowing one of their own to get killed?—but Guy couldn’t shake the sensation that the other shoe was about to drop.
And for whatever reason, he suspected the shoe belonged to Rutland.
Guy had replayed last night’s exchange over and over and he kept coming back to Rutland’s parting comment. Count on it. He’d hadn’t been simply confident—he’d been certain.
There was a difference.
Guy had called Jamie last night and filled him in on the newest developments and his friend had agreed. Something wasn’t kosher, that was for damned sure, and whatever it was would undoubtedly be brought to Guy’s attention this morning.
At any rate, he’d reviewed the curriculum again—he and Julia had briefly skimmed things last night when they’d returned from Frank’s—and he felt like he was as prepared as he could be, given that he didn’t feel like he really had anything to offer.
In his typical maverick form, he’d decided he didn’t particularly care for the present outline and would be doing a bit more practical lecturing rather than putting them through a bunch of pointless exercises.
Garrett wanted him to come in here and recreate his team and that simply wasn’t going to happen. No amount of team building or advice from Julia on how to build a trusting relationship would duplicate the years of experience, camaraderie and genuine friendship between him, Payne, Jamie and Danny.
The dynamic couldn’t be duplicated.
And if Garrett was betting otherwise to keep from being put out to pasture, then he’d better think again.
Hell, they’d been friends for eight years before they’d been selected for Project Chameleon. Though it sounded sentimental, he and his buddies and current business partners were more than friends—they were brothers of the heart.
He knocked again, and within moments, buttoned and “bunned” within an inch of her life, Julia opened the door and smiled at him. Something in his chest gave an unexpected flutter and he found himself inexplicably glad to see her. Odd, that, Guy thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been glad to see a woman, if ever.
Though he loved sex as much as the next man, Guy’d always adhered to The Bachelor League rules he, Danny, Payne and Jamie had authenticated in college. Never spend the entire night with a woman, never let her eat off your plate and after the third date cut her loose.
Of course, Payne and Jamie had let those rules go by the wayside recently—quite happily—but Guy couldn’t see himself ever settling down. Frankly, though he was careful to keep a tight rein on his temper, he lived with the constant fear that he’d eventually snap and hit his wife, maybe even, God forbid, his child.
Guy had bad blood running through his veins—his bastard father’s—and couldn’t deny that there were times when his temper erupted and he was grimly reminded of his old man. Guy liked to think that he was a better caliber of man, that he’d never do anything so cowardly and horrible, but in the end, who knew? Payne and Jamie insisted that he’d never do anything so terrible, but Guy figured it was better to never take that chance. He’d already failed one person he’d loved— Danny—and didn’t think he could withstand doing anything so gut-wrenching again.
“Good morning,” Julia said. She wore a pale yellow linen pantsuit which looked particularly striking with her hair and a rosy gloss covered that amazing mouth.
The tantalizing scent of bacon and some sort of fruity muffin emanated from behind her, making his mouth inexplicably water. Unlike her, Guy hadn’t been to the grocery store, so all he’d had to eat this morning was a complimentary cup of coffee. He grimaced. And a piss-poor one at that. His stomach rumbled. Loudly.
“Something smells good,” he said, shooting her a hopeful look.
She poked her tongue in her cheek. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“What tipped you off? My blatant fishing for an invitation or my stomach growling?”
“Both. You’ll have to hurry, though. I don’t want to be late.”
Her? Really? He would have never guessed, Guy thought with a droll smile. “No worries. I’ll eat fast.”
“Have a seat,” Julia told him, her mouth curving in a soft knowing grin. Once again that odd unfamiliar little flutter winged through his chest. “I’ll fix you a plate.”
The last person to fix him a plate had been his mother, Guy realized, curiously warmed by Julia’s domestic gesture. And that had been too long ago. He tried to visit at least once a month now that he was out of the service, but things didn’t always go according to plan. Janie McCann always took things in stride though, content to count her blessings and be on her own. After eighteen years with a mean drunk prone to believable bouts of repentance, his mother had morphed into a new woman after his father had left.
Guy would never forget that day. His father’d had a bad day at work, had come home early and been instantly
enraged because his mother hadn’t had his dinner on the table. Evidently pissed that she didn’t have the psychic ability to know that he’d be arriving an hour before his usual time, he’d lifted a frying pan with an inch of hot grease in the bottom from the stove and hurled it at her. She still bore the scars.
Tired and sweaty from football practice, Guy had walked in just in time to witness the horror and had instantly lit into his father. Fed up and frightened and furious, he’d pummeled the living hell out of him, and probably wouldn’t have stopped if it hadn’t been for the coke bottle he’d taken upside the head. His father had snagged it from the counter, and the blow to his temple had knocked Guy out cold.
He’d awakened in a hospital room with thirty stitches in the side of his head, his mother, burned but bandaged, at his side. “He’s gone,” she’d said with a simple finality that had brought a wave of instant relief.
Hank McCann had never been seen or heard from again, at least not in Burnt Rock, Alabama.
“The coffee will be ready in a minute,” Julia said, sliding a plate in front of him. “How do you like it?”
Guy blinked, pulled away from the memory and managed a smile. “Black, thanks.” He snagged a piece of bacon. “Do you always cook breakfast?” he asked. He enjoyed it, of course, but never seemed to have the time.
Julia nodded. “I do. My dad was a three-square-meals type, so I got used to having a full breakfast. Every once in a while I’ll settle for a muffin, but most of the time I cook. I enjoy it,” she said, pulling a small shrug. “So it’s no problem.”
She set a cup of coffee beside his plate, then tidied the kitchen while he inhaled his food. “That was excellent,” Guy told her. A few minutes later, he rinsed off his plate. “Thank you. Do you usually have that many leftovers?” he asked her, shooting her a grin. “’Cause if so, you can count on me finishing things up for you every morning while we’re here.”
The Maverick Page 6
