The Loner: Men Out of Uniform Book 4

by Rhonda Russell

  “No doubt you can handle her,” McCann said, seemingly impressed. “You’ve sure as hell done a better job of dealing with her than we did. Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’ve joined our team?”

  Huck smiled. “It’s not feeling like a team at the moment, McCann. More like every man for himself.”

  Guy laughed. “Yeah, well. It is what it is. We’ll work our end and you work yours.”

  “You got it.” He disconnected and stared down at her, waiting for her to say something.

  She didn’t. Just glared up at him with an embarrassed but mutinous expression.

  “You asked for a replacement?” he said, practically chewing the words. Throttling her was beginning to look really good. Granted, her phone call had gone in his favor, but...

  “You tattled to Daddy?” she shot back.

  “I didn’t tattle to your father--I apprised him of the new developments.”

  “Call it what you want, Huck, it was still a shitty thing to do.” She shoved her hair out of her face. “I’m not twelve, dammit.”

  He pulled a shrug, conveniently ignoring the truth of her statement. Talking to Stravos had been a bit like ratting her out, but truth be told, he’d really just wanted to meet the man and get a feel for him. “Then act like it,” he told her.

  She shot him another dirty look, then abruptly stood and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a ‘fuck you.’ Though he should have been offended, he had to smother a smile.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, as she headed for the door.

  “To eat. I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too. What are we having?”

  “I’m having Ella’s red beans and rice.” She smiled sweetly. “You can eat shit.”

  * * *

  “Honestly, child, you can’t expect me to the let the man sit in my house, but not have anything to eat,” Ella chided, moments later as Sapphira loaded her plate full of the steaming Cajun dish Ella had made for their dinner. “It’s unkind.”

  “Who said he had to sit in the house?” she asked. “You’ve got a perfectly good swing on the front porch.”

  Small but strong, Ella paused and considered her with those wise blue eyes. “You didn’t mind if the other three put their feet under my table. Why can’t this one?”

  Sapphira harrumphed, still annoyed. She plopped down into her chair and squeezed a wedge of lemon into her sweet tea. “This one has put me under house arrest.”

  Ella started. “What?”

  “Starting tomorrow, I can’t leave the house unless he approves of the errand. I have to have his friggin’ permission to leave.”

  “Language, Sapphira,” she scolded, her brow wrinkling. Her eyes suddenly twinkled and knowing smile curled her lips. “I take it this one didn’t like all the shopping and whatnot.”

  “The other ones didn’t like it either, but they did it.”

  Ella made a little humph. “All that says to me is that this one is smarter than the rest.”

  Outraged, Sapphira’s eyes widened. “Ella, how can you say that? He’s making me a prisoner!” she hissed.

  “No, he’s not. He’s clipping your wings. Frankly, after the heck you put the others through, I think it’s no less than you deserve.”

  Sapphira felt her shoulders droop. “If I wasn’t so hungry I’d lose my appetite.” She picked at a piece of rice with her fork. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I am on your side, child,” she soothed. “If you remember, I never agreed with your ‘solution’ to get rid of your body guards.”

  That was putting it mildly. Ella had thought her PITA plan had been ‘pure rubbish.’ She’d never approved. Still, was a little support from her dearest friend a too much to ask for? Having Huck screen all of her errands was seriously going to cramp her already twisted style. How was she supposed to take care of her duties for Belle Charities? Mentor? Be there for Carmen? She’d skimmed the reports McCann, Payne and Flanagan had submitted to her father. Other than bathroom breaks, they accounted for every minute of her day. If she went about her normal routine, her father would cut her off so quick her head would spin.

  And then what?

  What would all of the people dependent on her help do? Her so-called salary helped feed families, covered health insurance. There was nothing frivolous about those expenditures, dammit, regardless of what Huck thought about her dog having her nails painted.

  Honestly, at this point, Sapphira didn’t know what to do. Going about business as usual wasn’t an option. Confronting her father wasn’t an option. Her only hope at this point was that the letters would stop coming and her father would decide to remove her security detail.

  Then and only then would she have her life back.

  “Mr. Finn,” Ella called. “Would you like to join us?”

  Huck appeared in the doorway so fast it was almost funny. He smiled at Ella. “Thank you, I would.” He took the seat opposite her. “It smells wonderful.”

  “Aw, it’s just a little red beans and rice,” Ella said, blushing at the praise.

  Damned charmer, Sapphira thought, feeling her toes curl into her shoes. Despite the aromatic dish she could smell Huck above the food, that same woodsy, musky scent that had been driving her insane all day. Furthermore, though she was exhausted--and knew he had to be as well because nothing wore a body out faster than good old-fashioned boredom--Huck, damn him, seemed sharp. The limp she’d noticed earlier had vanished, probably from sheer force of will, Sapphira decided, inwardly impressed.

  She knew she’d struck a nerve when she’d mentioned it, and could tell the ache was more than just physical. His soul was wounded as well. What had happened to him? she wondered. Was the new scar on his cheek related to the leg injury? As a former Ranger, had he been wounded in action? Or had it been something as unfortunate as a car accident? For reasons which escaped her, she suddenly had to know. Of course, considering she’d just told the man to eat shit, he probably wasn’t interested in confiding close personal details about himself to her, Sapphira thought, inwardly smiling.

  Ever the southern hostess, Ella loaded Huck’s plate and filled his glass, then set both down in front of him. Thirty seconds later she’d blessed the meal and the only sound was the scrape of a fork against a plate.

  Huck hummed impressively under his breath. “Ms. Ella, this is wonderful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Sapphira and I usually eat supper together, so feel free to join us anytime. There’s always plenty.” She paused. “That’s a southern accent. What part of the south are you from?”

  He took a sip of tea. “I’m from Georgia as well--Red Rock. Just a bit west of Savannah.”

  “I’ve heard of Red Rock,” Ella said. “Sweet little town. You’ve got family there?” She wasn’t being nosy, merely polite, which Huck seemed to recognize because, after darting her a look, he answered Ella’s question.

  “Just my mom and grandmother,” he said casually, though she did notice that his fingers tightened around his fork. “My mother was a maid for years, but has since opened a cookie bakery. If I’m still here on Friday, I’ll share a few with you. She sends a care package every week,” he confided. “My grandmother is a retired seamstress. She and my mom recently moved into Savannah.”

  His mother had been a maid? Sapphira thought, surprised. If she’d been treated unfairly, then that could certainly account for a bit of the distain she’d picked up on. And no mention of a father? Another telling omission she filed away for future reference.

  Sapphira smiled. “A cookie bakery? Really? I’ve always wished that I could bake.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Ella chimed in with a knowing chuckle. “Sapphira knows her way around the kitchen, she just doesn’t like to eat alone.”

  That disturbingly intuitive gaze slid to hers and caught. He didn’t say a word and yet she knew what he was thinking, could tell he wanted to know why she ate with Ella instead of her father. Sapphira quirked a pointe
d brow at him, daring him to ask. Go ahead, Huck. Then I’ll ask about your father and see how you like it.

  “Really?” he said after a slight pause. “I’ll have to see if I can get her to cook something for me.” He winced thoughtfully. “Of course, there’s always the chance that she’d season it with arsenic, so I’d better not.”

  Ella chuckled and Sapphira felt a reluctant laugh bubble up her own throat as well. “No doubt you’d survive,” she said. “Roaches are like that, too.”

  Huck’s eyes twinkled at the insult and he chewed the corner of his mouth. “You’re in fine form tonight. Are you always this pleasant?”

  She batted her lashes at him. “I’m making a special effort just for you.”

  He laughed again, seemingly startled at her candor. “Somehow I figured as much. Try not to tax yourself too much though, because if you break a nail you’re not going to get it repaired.” Much to her irritation, he delivered the remark with a pointed grin.

  “Ah, back to my incarceration, are we?”

  “Sapphira, Mr. Finn is merely doing his job,” Ella said, the ever-present voice of reason. “He’s trying to keep you safe.”

  Sapphira darted him a perturbed look. “Yeah, but he’s enjoying it a little too much.”

  He shrugged, trying once again not to smile. That sensual mouth curved ever so wickedly around the edges. “You make it so easy.”

  Ella’s shrewd gaze bounced between them consideringly. “Have you had any luck determining the source of the letters?” she asked.

  “Not yet. But we will,” he added confidently.

  Sapphira made a doubtful moue because she knew it would annoy him. “I tell ya, at this point I’m just hoping the letters stop so that my guards are released and I’m a free woman again.”

  He ignored the jibe. “How long has it been since the last one? A week?”

  “Yes. I’m going to give it a couple more days, but if I don’t get another letter, I think I can convince my father to suspend your services.”

  Ella harrumphed. “I’m surprised he hired anyone to start with.”

  Sapphira watched Huck’s gaze sharpen and once again he reminded her of a disturbingly large bird of prey. “Oh?” he prodded.

  “Ella,” Sapphira cautioned with a dark look.

  “He’s met your father,” she said. “It’s no secret that he doesn’t like being inconvenienced. He should have been the one looking into this for you. But can he be bothered? No,” she said, clearly irritated. She shook her head and tsked under her breath. “That man lost his soul when Nicky died, and I’ve about given up hope that he’ll get it back.”

  It was true Sapphira knew. Her father had never been particularly affectionate when she’d been growing up, but there had been moments when she’d known she was loved. In all honesty, she couldn’t say she’d felt so much as a brush of affection from him since Nicky passed away. Her gaze slid to Huck, who’d gone quiet. He knew about her brother, she was sure. They all did. It would have been in any background research they’d done on her family.

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” he finally said. “That must have been tough.”

  Tough didn’t begin to cover it, Sapphira thought as her heart ached anew with the loss. In a home with two distant parents, she and Nicky had depended a lot upon each other. They’d been close. Honestly, when she’d first heard the news that he’d overdosed, the burst of anger over his leaving her--not confiding in her--was almost more potent than the grief.

  A coping mechanism, her therapist had told her when she’d gone in for counseling. Whatever, Sapphira thought. In the end, none of the labels or terminology had mattered. Her only brother was gone and she was left in a world that didn’t feel particularly right without him.

  Sapphira stood and collected her plate. “Let me help you clear the dishes,” she said, suddenly exhausted.

  Ella made a noise of protest and took the dish out of her hand. “Another time, child. You go on home. You look a bit tired.”

  Sapphira smiled down into Ella’s lined face, affection welling from deep within her chest. Oh, how she loved Ella. What on earth would she do without her? “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” She leaned in, smiled and jerked her head in Huck’s direction. “And you be nice,” she admonished.

  Sapphira chuckled wearily under her breath and pressed a kiss against Ella’s lined cheek. “I’ll try.”

  It was only when they’d walked outside and started down the path back to her house that Sapphira realized a whole new problem was about to begin.

  Lucas Finn--all six and half feet of him, every wonderfully proportioned sex-on-feet inch--was going to be spending the night with her. Indefinitely even. And the only advice her ordinarily level-headed, conservative former nanny had to offer was “be nice.”

  She whimpered as his arm brushed hers and that mesmerizing scent once again teased her nostrils. Her body did a little simmer and every nerve-ending vibrated with what she tried to tell herself was irritation.

  It wasn’t.

  Irritation didn’t make her nipples tingle and her sex sing. Irritation didn’t make her want to her want to slide all over him. Irritation didn’t make her want to taste the lingering flavor of red beans and rice on his sinfully beautiful mouth. Irritation didn’t make her want him. She stifled another moan as they walked through her door. The two of them. Alone in her house. In the dark of night. For hours on end.

  God help her.

  CHAPTER 6

  Geez God, how long did it take to shower? Huck wondered helplessly as the continued noise--and the ensuing vision of hot naked skin, wet and supple and welcoming--plagued him. Though he was probably lying on mattress which cost more than his entire bedroom suite, he couldn’t get comfortable. He chuckled miserably.

  Hard to get comfortable when he had a blazing erection from hell straining against his shorts.

  Because of her.

  He seriously couldn’t believe that his body was doing this to him, betraying him to a pampered little rich girl who more than likely didn’t have a clue how the other half lived. How women like his mother had struggled to keep a roof over her head, food on the table and clothes on their backs by constantly cleaning up after someone else.

  Huck knew painted her with a broad brush, but couldn’t seem to help himself. If he didn’t keep reminding himself of all of her faults and unfairly stereotyping her into a neat little box, he was horribly afraid he’d snap and do something, if not unforgivable, then at least unforgivably stupid.

  Like like her.

  And if he liked her, he’d seduce her.

  And that... He shifted miserably, felt a single bead of moisture leak from his dick. Well that was just too ignorant to comprehend.

  Though it took every available brain cell, Huck forced himself to focus on what he’d learned tonight. While he hadn’t come any closer to finding out who was sending Stravos the letters about his daughter--and he’d shopped more today than in the past year of his life--he still felt like the day wasn’t a total bust.

  Meeting Stravos had been an interesting experience, but unfortunately had only left him with more questions than answers--the biggest, of course, being why was Sapphira afraid of him. And better still, why did Huck feel the pressing urge to protect her from him? He wished he could deny the feeling, wished that he could will it away--whatever problem existed between them was none of his business and wasn’t his mission to fix.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t shake the sensation that despite her wealth and privilege, Sapphira was like the proverbial bird in a gilded cage. Why else did she continue to live on the estate? Why hadn’t she gone to work? He knew she had a degree. If she hadn’t planned on using it, then why had she bothered with school at all? She’d graduated summa cum laude from Wellesley College--he’d seen the framed diploma in her living room. The wherewithal to manage that feat sure as hell didn’t coincide with the unconcerned socialite shopoholic he’d seen in action today.

&nb
sp; Put simply, none of it added up.

  Secondly, watching the interaction between Sapphira and Ella had been particularly heartening. Sapphira obviously adored her former nanny--a helpful point he’d found in the file, along with Flanagan’s “Good cook!” note scrawled into the margin. From what he’d been able to discern, Ella had hired on within a week of the birth of the Stravos’ first child, Nicky, and had been with them ever since.

  Though at twenty-six Sapphira was well past the needing-a-nanny phase, for whatever reason--in what he could only assume was either a rare act of kindness or sheer convenience--Stravos had kept her on. On salary? Who knew? But on the estate, certainly, and for Sapphira’s sake.

  Furthermore, though she hadn’t told him as much, after visiting Ella’s cottage, it was obvious given the newer fixtures and appliances in Sapphira’s house that hers was merely a replica of her nanny’s. Odd that, Huck thought. With her resources she could have hired a premiere architect and built any sort of house her imagination could have dreamed up. Instead, she’d opted for a carbon copy of her nanny’s home. That was very telling, Huck decided. It told him that she was closer to her father’s hired help than she was to her own family.

  Frankly, though his mother had never been a nanny, she’d had clients develop a similar affection for her. To the extent of Sapphira and Ella? No. His mother had never been that accessible, had always refused to live on site and had insisted that she maintain her own residence.

  Because of him, Huck was sure.

  When she came home at the end of the day, he’d never had to share her with anyone. Other than his grandmother, of course, but he’d never minded. They’d been close, Huck realized now, swallowing. He should probably thank her for that.

  And he’d really never missed having a father, which made his sudden inescapable quest to find out the man’s identity all the more strange. It didn’t make any sense and yet he knew he’d never be able to rest until he knew. Had Huck wondered about him in the past? Certainly. And now that he had the time to focus some attention to the matter, he desperately wanted to know who the man was. He didn’t want to know him, per se, and sure as hell didn’t want to meet him. He just wanted the bastard’s name and a face to put with it. He passed a hand over his jaw.