Way of the Warrior

by Suzanne Brockmann

  But for now, he was enjoying the startled expression on Kristy’s face. “They’re probably manual shift, right?” she asked. “I only do automatic. And I won’t know what to do if I get stuck. I’ll probably tip the whole thing over.”

  “They are manual, and I can teach you to drive it in about fifteen minutes. You will get stuck, but you’ll know how to get unstuck because I’m going to be in the Jeep with you. So you won’t tip it over.” Relief saturated her expression, and damn did that bring back that twisting in his chest. “You in?”

  She lifted her hand in a high five. “I’m in.”

  He met her palm with his. Only then did they realize the cameraman had been filming the whole thing.

  The guy lowered the camera and gave them a wink. “Damn, I wish this was a real show. You two have fabulous chemistry.” He skipped back to the vehicle.

  Griff glanced to see if that statement had horrified her.

  Her half grin held a hint of sheepishness. “Well, Griff, now you have the same expression I probably had when I was taking in that mud bog. You sure you’re in?”

  “Too far in to back out now.” He offered her his bent arm. “Let’s do this mud bog thing.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Griff looked decidedly disturbed by Trent’s assessment of their chemistry. Kristy might have been amused, if he hadn’t brought down a wall between them with a resounding crash. The statement surprised her. She didn’t think she could have chemistry with anyone. Not after all she’d been through and was going through now. But there was…well, something between her and Griff.

  He excused himself to prepare the Jeeps, turning down her offer to help, which left her standing amid all the activity, watching him. Griff thought he was a monster. It made her want to pull him into her arms and coax him into telling her all his fears and pain and hopes.

  Griff was no child who would succumb to coddling. He was six foot two and over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Though his shirt covered his chest and back, his biceps bulged, and his camo khakis tightened over muscular thighs. She wondered if he kept his left side facing her on purpose, given his concerns in the truck.

  Which, damn, had really made her want to just lay her head on his shoulder and tell him that it didn’t matter what he looked like on the outside. It did. To him, to the world.

  To you?

  She was in no position to get involved with someone. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d entertained a romantic thought, much less partook in the act itself. But there she was watching him, and the sight of all that male power spiraled heat in her belly. Before the explosion, he’d been gorgeous. She could see his high cheekbone and strong jaw that scar tissue buried on the other side of his face. His light brown hair shone in the sun, thick, with a slight wave where it curled against his neck.

  He glanced up at her, and she quickly averted her attention to the guys discussing camera angles. Everyone raised their heads when two vehicles ambled down the gravel road. Kristy had only briefly met the couples who exited the vehicles. She felt a twinge of jealousy—or was it merely longing?—when the women gave their handsome men sweet kisses, took a duffel bag, and walked over to Chase. The two men stripped off their shirts as they began to fill Chase in on their surveillance and update them on the progress of the guys setting up cameras and motion detectors.

  Kristy watched Griff as he tossed the last canvas onto a pile beneath a tree, turning when she heard the women coming up behind her.

  Mollie, the dark-haired one, was taking in the trees all around with delight. “We don’t get to see the changing of the leaves in Florida. This is amazing!”

  Addie, a fair-skinned blond, had a decidedly different expression on her face as she rubbed her arms. “It’s lovely, but it reminds me too much of that canned hunting property down in southern Georgia.”

  Griff’s voice behind Kristy was a surprise. “You involved in that takedown?”

  Addie’s expression went from fearful to proud. “Yep. Me and an unnamed former military guy who saved my fanny more than once.” The way she glanced at Risk rather gave that away, though.

  Chase and the two men came over. “Griff, this is Risk, and this is Julian.”

  Griff exchanged handshakes with the light-haired man first, then the dark-haired Latino. Neither showed any reaction to Griff’s damaged face. No doubt they’d seen worse.

  “Thanks for giving us the place to pull this off,” Risk said. “We have a soft spot for women in trouble.” His hazel eyes took in his fiancée, then landed on Kristy.

  “Glad to help,” Griff said. “I don’t cotton to anyone harassing a woman.”

  Risk chuckled. “Cotton? Haven̓t heard that word in a long time.”

  “It̓s one of my grandpa̓s favorite expressions. Funny how it kinda slips out once in a while.”

  Addie and Mollie pulled off their tops and shucked shorts to reveal bikinis and shapely figures. Addie raised her arms and called out to Chase, “I hope this is skimpy enough. I’m not going any tinier.”

  Chase gave her a thumbs-up. “You both look perfect.”

  While the two women stuffed their clothes in their duffel bags, Kristy shuffled out of her shorts. The net top was staying on, though. She wasn’t as brave as Griff was. And she could hear Eye’s voice in her head, dammit. Stop showing your skin, sinful woman! You are for my Eyes only. Get it? Eyes????

  When Griff turned to her, he must have seen the angst in her eyes and the way she was gripping the bottom edge of her shirt. Thankfully, he didn’t call her on it. “Who else needs some instruction on driving a manual shift?”

  Mollie raised her hand, and Addie said, “I drive one at my ranch. But I’ll watch, since I’ve never driven a Jeep before. Especially one with big ole wheels.”

  These were definitely no ordinary Jeeps. Besides their huge wheels and higher profile, they were fitted with roll cages. Griff gave them the rundown on shifting gears, wrapping his hand over Kristy’s on the gearshift a couple of times when she was too slow in shifting. After about twenty minutes, she and the other gals had a pretty good handle on the process.

  Griff leaned against the vehicle, instructing clearly one of his talents. “Muddin’ is a popular activity among the redneck crowd. At its core, it’s about driving around in the mud, spraying it everywhere, and gettin’ all dirty just for the fun of it. Sometimes we make it a formal race, like today.”

  “Why, exactly, do people like to get all muddy?” Kristy asked.

  It was the first time she saw a genuine smile on Griff’s face. “’Cause we can.” The scarred side of his mouth didn’t tilt up as far as the other, and it gave him an endearingly crooked smile. When he caught her staring at his mouth, it vanished. That wall came down again as he took in everyone and pasted on a pleasant expression. “You all ready to rock the mud bog?”

  Risk hollered, “Hell, yeah!” and grabbed Addie’s hand, hauling her over toward the Jeeps. Julian shook his head at his friend’s unbridled enthusiasm, threaded his fingers through Mollie’s, and led her over.

  Griff turned to Kristy, and she wanted to tell him that she liked his smile and to please not dim it just because she was looking at him. The words jammed in her mouth, and then Griff looked beyond her to ask Chase if the camera crew was ready. When he answered that they were, Griff nodded toward the Jeeps.

  She followed him, taking in the width of his shoulders and the way his chest tapered to narrow hips. Despite his scars and everything he’d been through, he walked with pride and confidence. His T-shirt was so faded that she couldn’t make out what had once been on it. But it looked so soft that she fought the insane urge to touch his back, to run her hand down his spine.

  “Where are the doors?” she asked. There was only a gaping hole where the doors should be.

  “Don’t need ’em.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “And, no, you won’t fall ou
t. You’ll be strapped in nice and tight.”

  And he’d be sitting there right beside her.

  Griff helped her climb into the driver’s seat, then went around the front and hopped in beside her. “Start her up like I showed you, and pull over to the line.”

  The vehicle lurched, nearly stalled, but she managed to steer it to the starting line where Addie was already waiting. Mollie was the last to get her pitching Jeep into position.

  “Remember,” Griff said, “once the mud starts flying, you won’t be able to see much. Just keep going straight until you feel the incline as you come out. Don’t worry; I’m here if you need me. You can do this.”

  She gave him a grateful look for his reassurance. Trent, who was perched on a stand in the back of a truck, gave them another thumbs-up.

  As Griff had instructed earlier, she returned the gesture. Once the other two women did the same, Chase stepped up to the line, raised his hand, and brought it down.

  “Easy does it,” Griff said.

  She eased the gas pedal down instead of punching it, and the Jeep slogged into the bog. Mud flew everywhere, from their tires as well as the Jeep on the right. Cool splats of it landed on her arms, her cheek, and everywhere inside the vehicle.

  Griff touched her elbow. “Relax. You’re going to strain your joints.”

  She focused ahead, finding less and less clear glass as mud covered it. In her peripheral vision, she saw the mobile cameraman racing along capturing it all. The Jeep tilted but righted itself just as a scream escaped her mouth. Then she reached the incline and rolled out of the bog.

  “You did it!” Griff said with that amazing, crooked smile. “And you won!” He held up his hand, and she slapped it, sending more bits of mud everywhere.

  Their palms connected, and so did their gazes. His face was so mud-splattered that she could hardly tell he was scarred. Only his mouth showed any evidence, and when he saw her gaze zero in on that, his smile vanished again.

  She reached out, and he inhaled when her fingers made contact with his cheek. She rubbed her thumb at the corner of his mouth. “Please don’t stop smiling. It’s—”

  “We have our winner!” a voice shouted from beside her. She jerked around to find Trent shoving the lens her way. “How was it?”

  “I, uh…dirty.” She wiped the mud clinging to her cheek. The memory of touching Griff’s face, his surprised expression, flashed into her mind. “And amazing.”

  “Good. Let’s do it again. I need to make sure I have plenty of footage.”

  For the next two hours, they raced. Griff’s guidance, along with his gentle corrections, helped her manage the course over and over.

  “We don’t have a lot of light left, so we need to go on to the next event,” Trent said.

  “What’s that? I thought this was it for the day.” She glanced at Griff, who was obviously in on this by his sheepish smile.

  Trent positioned his camera to catch her reaction. “You and your competitors are slogging through the mud bog…on foot this time.”

  • • •

  “That was utterly humiliating,” Kristy said as she trudged out of the mud thirty minutes later. She jabbed a finger at the gathered men, ending at Griff. “And you all enjoyed it.”

  “Was it the guffawing that tipped you off?” Addie had her blue eyes narrowed at her man. “The snorting laughter?” She advanced on Risk, who realized she had nefarious intentions concerning his dry and relatively clean person and her muddy one. And when she gave him a full-body hug and big kiss, everyone laughed. Even Risk.

  Mollie gave her man the same treatment, which left Kristy facing off with Griff and feeling awkward with all that loving going on. And a tiny bit naughty, too.

  Griff took her in with faux wariness and a spark of that same impishness. “You gonna get me back, too?”

  “Was this your idea?”

  He grinned. “Yep.”

  He was daring her! Kristy had given up enough in her life, forgone parties and events and jobs. She was not giving this a pass. She stomped closer, deciding how far she’d actually go. He tucked his fingers in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. No, he definitely didn’t think she’d do it.

  So she did. She smeared mud all over his clean face, down his neck, and into that soft hair.

  His hands automatically clamped down onto hers as he ducked his head and squirmed. “I don’t mind the mud, but I’m ticklish as all get out.”

  The sound of his laughter nearly undid her. Deep, full laughs not unlike the ones she’d heard when she’d been a mudbug for his amusement. Those scratchy, rusty laughs filled her chest like helium. So she bent down, scooped up a handful of bright orange mud, and threw it at him like a snowball.

  He didn’t duck fast enough, and it hit him in the chest. His face flared in mock indignation, and he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. Her screams weren’t exactly mock, even if they were peppered with laughter. He sloshed into the bog and moved to drop her in. She’d been plenty familiar with that bog, thank you very much!

  “All right, I give, I give!” she shouted, clutching his shoulders. God, she hoped she didn’t hurt him. She had no idea how sensitive his skin was.

  He was breathing heavily, his face inches from hers as he leaned over her. “I didn’t hear an ‘I’m sorry I got mud all over you’ in there anywhere.”

  He was having fun with her, teasing her, giving her a glimpse of the man he’d been before…she pushed the rest away. “It’s your fault I have mud all over me!”

  “Hey, it’s all for the show. You looked great out there. Lots of those hook moments they’re after. Say you’re really, very, terribly sorry, and I might not drop you.”

  She loved the Southern honey of his voice, now so clear in his teasing command. She pasted on a contrite expression. “I’m very, terribly sorry—” And tilted just enough to throw him off balance. With her clinging to him like a burr, he couldn’t right himself, and down they went, her on top of him.

  Mud splattered all over them. She was laughing too hard to even finish her sentence, falling flat on his chest as she fought to catch her breath.

  He was shaking his head, his eyes narrowed. “You’re in big trouble now.”

  She leaned close, her muddy hair drifting down over his face. “What are you going to do about it?” The flirtatious words were out before she could even consider them. When was the last time she’d flirted, for God’s sake?

  His mouth opened, perhaps with unbidden words of his own ready to roll out.

  Suddenly, she became aware of a presence to her right. Trent had his camera aimed right at them. Whatever Griff had been about to say, he changed his mind, taking advantage of the distractions to flip her over and squish her into the mud beneath him. His thighs tightened against her hips, pinning her thoroughly.

  “That,” he said, the playfulness gone even as his crooked smile was still in place. He glanced at Trent. “Good hook?”

  Trent was all smiles as he pressed a button and lowered the camera. “Awesome sauce.”

  Griff got to his feet and gave her his hand to help her up. As Trent sloshed through the mud to the bank, she said, “So that was all about the hook?”

  Damn if he didn’t give her a guileless look. “Of course. We have to sell this if we’re going to lure this sicko in.”

  She was so mad at his lie—it was a lie, wasn’t it?—that she took one lunging step and fell forward.

  He caught her around the waist, lifting her easily and carrying her toward the bank, her body flush against his. Her hands had gone to his shoulders, and she was high enough in his hold to look down on his head. His hair was a wet, muddy mess, revealing the ruined shell of his ear that was usually hidden beneath it.

  And since her chest was at his face level, if he looked through the netting, beneath the mud, he’d see her scars. H
e held her with one arm, the other out for balance. He lost his footing, making them wobble, before regaining it as he reached the bank. The other couples were over by the showers, and she realized she’d forgotten about everyone else there.

  Damn Trent. But yes, that’s what they were there for. Not to fall in love or like or anything even close to it.

  But right now, she was in Griff’s arms, both of them now that he’d reached solid ground, and it felt darned good. He looked up at her, no trace of a smile now.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” he said, all contrite. “I got carried away. I shouldn’t have—”

  She placed her finger against his lips, feeling the ridge of scar tissue. “When I look at you, I don’t think, ‘Aw, poor guy, how sad for him.’ I think, ‘What a strong man to endure what you did and still be here.’”

  His breath hitched, and she felt his arms loosen enough for her to slide down his body to her feet. She could see his struggle: shut her out or let her in?

  “I thought the same about you,” he said at last. “I read the articles about what this guy put you through.” He swallowed. “I want to do everything I can to help you go back to your life.” He released her, and she nearly stumbled.

  Julian, Risk, Addie, and Mollie returned, the women swathed in towels. “We’re going to hit that BBQ restaurant down the road after we get properly showered. You guys in?”

  Griff shook his head. “I don’t go out much. But ya’ll go on, enjoy. Try the pulled pork. It’s good. I have it delivered every Friday.” He’d included Kristy in that send-off as he swept them all with his gaze.

  She watched him head over to where the muddy Jeeps were parked. Her heart tugged in his direction. She turned back to the group as Chase reached it, trying to find a diplomatic way to make her request.

  “Chase, can Kristy hang here with Griff while we hit that BBQ place we saw on the way in?” Addie gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Are the sensors wired yet?”