The Protector

by Gennita Low

  “I trust him with my life,” Jazz told her. “He’ll drive a hard bargain.”

  “We’ll see whether you’re right,” she said dryly. “What should I say I’m keeping you safe from? Those girls in Rose’s neighborhood?”

  She had the sass of a cocky trumpet interrupting a good piece, creating the interesting reply to the string of background harmony.

  “Maybe,” he replied, looking at his target through half-closed eyes.

  Jazz had never looked at a woman and thought of music before. He studied the woman next to him and wondered what she would say if he told her that she was inspiring some pretty cool rhythms in his head. His lips quirked. She would have one of those tart comebacks in that soft French accent that inspired other kinds of rhythms.

  “You get amused easily, don’t you, Lieutenant? No one even need tell you a joke.”

  “I can’t even smile now?”

  She sighed. “You smile too damn much.”

  He had been told that before. “I can’t help it,” he told her solemnly. “I was born with a big smile on my pretty face. Maman always said she had to smack me to make sure I knew how to cry.”

  Vivi gave him a startled glance, then laughed. He liked the way her laughter sounded—full-bodied and mellow. “I’ll have to remember to kick your ass a bit then,” she said.

  “Over dinner?” he persisted.

  “Maybe after,” she replied very softly.

  He grinned. Maman’s advice had always been good. To get a date, always make the woman feel like a woman, she had said. And always tell her his maman beat his behind a lot. He had gotten his two wishes—a smile and dinner. He had been around women enough to know not to push his luck. He changed the subject.

  “How do you know where to take me?” Jazz asked. He was curious about how Vivi had gotten such information, anyway. He belonged to one of the top covert groups in the United States; very few people knew anything about them. He suspected that Vivi was one of them, and that added a whole layer of intriguing possibilities.

  “My boss told me,” Vivi said, slanting him a quick glance as she maneuvered the small car through the hodgepodge of traffic down the increasingly busy downtown.

  They were back to mysterious film noir heroine leading the man around, Jazz thought in amusement. “And your boss is…?”

  Her answering look was telling. “Have I asked any questions about you, your covert activities, or your outfit, Lieutenant Zeringue?” When he smiled lazily at her, her back straightened defensively. “What? Why do you always do that?”

  He was getting to her. “Do what?” he asked.

  “Don’t give me that innocent boy act. You always give me that look whenever you think I’m speaking double entendres.”

  “Well, you were the one who brought up covert activities and outfit, chouchou,” he pointed out. “I’d be happy to demonstrate all my covert activities after dinner tonight. I have no outfits in mind.”

  Vivi answered with a sudden bout of choked coughing. He had a feeling she was trying to disguise her laughter. For some reason, she didn’t want him to know she enjoyed his company, but he’d caught the laughter gleaming in her eyes before she turned back to the traffic. He leaned over and whispered wickedly, “Except for my pendant, of course, chouchou. I think it’d make the covert activities very exciting.”

  Her hand came up between her breasts, grasping at the hidden pendant. “You’ll have this back as soon as we reached our destination.”

  “No, keep it warm for me till after dinner,” he told her wickedly.

  Her hand stroked at his necklace absently, and he suddenly wished she were doing the same thing to him somewhere more strategic. “Lieutenant Zola Zeringue,” she warned. “You don’t know when to stop pushing your luck.”

  Whatever had possessed her to even contemplate a dinner date with this man? Vivi slammed the car door shut. The subject of her thoughts did likewise, looking around the neighborhood as he did so. It dawned on her that his lazy perusal was mostly a disguise. She doubted those baby blues missed much as they took in the deceptively understated surroundings.

  The warehouse nearby looked ordinary enough, with the rusty fencing and men moving crates onto the lorries and carts waiting in line. Loud rock and roll music blared from a nearby radio, mingling with the sounds of hammers and saws in the background.

  Two men watched as Vivi and Jazz picked their way toward the warehouse. One of them approached when she walked in and rapped on the counter. Jazz stood by the entrance a few feet away, giving him easy access to move in or out of the building. He was a good soldier, she thought. Never let his guard down, even when he knew she was taking him to meet his friends.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked.

  Vivi showed him an order slip. “Are they ready?”

  The man inspected the paper, then checked a book behind the counter. He shook his head. “No, ma’am, not ready. They’re working in the backyard.”

  “Can I talk to the supervisor?”

  “Sure. Go through the side door, turn left, ma’am. Be careful of the electrical cords.”

  “Thank you.”

  Vivi turned to Jazz. “If it helps, this is a secured place.”

  “So I can see, chouchou. It’s not every day I see shopkeepers with weapons ready and pointing from under the tables,” Jazz said. He regarded her for a moment, his blue eyes probing hers. “You could have warned me. What if I had taken one of those men down?”

  Vivi had thought about it, but for some inexplicable reason, she had decided not to. He was supposed to be this hotshot SEAL, so…Okay, she admitted to wanting to test the man. She had omitted telling him that the people here worked for her.

  “And what good would that do, Lieutenant? I’d be dead, and so would you,” she pointed out. “I figured you’d be smart enough not to do anything, like when you were caught with Rose at that bar.”

  “How did you know I didn’t?” he countered.

  She smiled. Almost got caught there. “The report said you didn’t struggle, of course. What, did you see me there taking notes?”

  He seemed satisfied with her response, taking her last question as a joke. “Don’t test me again, Vivi,” he murmured, still looking around. “I’m very unpredictable when I’m nervous.”

  She hid another smile, pointing at the direction she wanted to go. She had seen him in a few situations that told her the man didn’t get jittery very often. The sound of male voices and tools being used became louder. Jazz would recognize the voices of his men. “Don’t be,” she said. “I assure you this is a very safe place and that I’m here to protect you from bad people.”

  He flashed a returning smile. “I feel better already.”

  They turned the corner and the men paused in midconversation, turning to their visitors. Some of them put down their tools. Vivi surveyed the men with interest. She had met only Jazz and Hawk up close. She remembered the others gathered around the piano that other night, making a lot of jovial noises. They looked a lot cleaner today. She nodded to all of them, her gaze resting a little longer on Hawk McMillan, the mission commander.

  “Don’t let me interrupt that interesting story, gentlemen,” Vivi said, shifting her attention to the big tall man, the one everyone called…Cucumber. She didn’t want to guess the reason. “You were telling your friends about getting your balls checked out by some doctor.”

  “You must have excellent concentration, Miss Verreau, talking to Jazz and listening to us at the same time,” Hawk said as he approached them. “Jazz, you look well rested.”

  Vivi felt each man’s examination as she stood there. She wondered what their commander had told them about her. Hawk’s eyes, intimately assessing, didn’t reveal anything.

  “Yes, I am,” Jazz replied from behind her.

  “Then you ought to be ready for some action.”

  “Always. Did I miss anything important?”

  “I’ll fill you in later.”

  The exchange
between the two men interested Vivi. She knew they were close friends from their interaction at the bar. Hawk was the unit commander, but her papers told her that Jazz was a Joint Task Force coleader in their covert work, each coordinating their teams of three and two men in the operations. It took a lot of faith between two men to have confidence that the other’s timing would be right.

  “Miss Verreau,” Hawk greeted her, his hand extended. Vivi returned his direct perusal with the same candor.

  Hawk McMillan had the face of a poster boy for the military. His eyes, that shimmering color that reminded her of brandy, glittered rakishly. She knew from their last encounter that they missed nothing. His file told her that he played the ladies’ man, yet she was very aware that there was nothing soft about the SEAL. She also knew from personal experience that when Hawk wanted information, he was unconventional and persuasive. She still laughed when she recalled the promises he had given to her old lady disguise.

  Vivi shook Hawk’s hand and was vaguely amused when he smoothly tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and pivoted her toward the group. The man was also very suave. Behind her, she felt Jazz’s gaze boring into her.

  “Men, this is going to be a first for you. Meet Miss Vivienne Verreau. Admiral Madison has instructed me to tell you that she will issue the Patrol Leader’s Order.”

  So Hawk McMillan had waited until now to reveal her role. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to appear in front of a group of warriors and be told she was going to be their general for the next battle. A challenge had been issued here. She smiled up at Hawk, slipped her hand free, then moved a few steps forward, making sure the men stood in a loose circle around her.

  A Patrol Leader’s Order was war cry to covert teams to drop everything and listen to orders. At this moment, these men, accustomed to their all-male circle, were being told that the person who was going to give them these orders was…a woman.

  Vivi remained silent for a long second, unruffled by the undisguised interest in the male eyes. At least none of them looked shocked or disgruntled. Yet. She didn’t look at Jazz. He distracted her too much. First, she had to show these men she could handle them. “I’m still waiting for the rest of your story,” she addressed Cucumber softly. “Unless, of course, you’re too embarrassed to go on.”

  His story, from what she had caught, was the usual male banter around that thing between their legs. It was a favorite topic of conversation. That, and sex and women. Or, with soldiers, that, and sex and women, with a big smattering of war heroics. Her gaze hardened as she challenged the big SEAL, raising her brows a shade higher.

  She noted that Cucumber hesitated long enough to catch the silent go-ahead order from Hawk. Relaxing a little, he never let his eyes leave her face as he continued his tale. “Like I was saying, I was getting a check-up after a field assignment with a different outfit. I won’t name the commander but he didn’t like my SEAL attitude. I had a slight injury from the assignment and he sent me to the med, with specific instructions.”

  One of the other men laughed. “Yeah, to have his asshole checked out.”

  Vivi cocked her head. “Did you bend over, like you were told?”

  There were a few low chuckles. “I had trouble unzipping my pants because my hands were the parts of me that were injured,” Cucumber informed her with a straight face. His eyes had that glitter of a male being challenged. “So I requested that he aid me.”

  There was outright laughter now. “Shit, man, you have some ba—gumption.”

  Cucumber ignored his friend, continuing, “He sat right there between my bloody pants and casually asked, ‘What the fuck have you been doing, soldier, cutting up your hands like that?’as he helped me out of my pants. He fucking knew all along that I didn’t need my pants down but he was following orders. Stupid bastard couldn’t say no to his fuckass arrogant commander, so he had to play dumb. So I said, ‘It’s some shrapnel and dirt, nothing very serious. Land mines.’ He shook his head, and…”

  Cucumber finally turned to the guys, his lips twitching. “…with his fucking head at eye-level to my balls, he said, ‘That’s a nasty job you have.’ Fucking idiot was actually holding my balls while he said that.” Cucumber turned back to Vivi. “So I said to him, looking straight into his eyes, ‘Not as nasty as yours.’”

  The howls of laughter were very male. The joke was funny but Vivi heard the underlying message. “You’re a brave one,” she commented, amusement in her voice, “saying that to a man holding your balls in his hands.”

  “He has big balls, ma’am,” one of the men chipped in.

  “I’ll keep that in mind for our operation,” Vivi said, deliberately bringing the subject back to her. She knew they were all wondering why she was the one giving the Patrol Leader’s Order, and not Hawk.

  Her own orders had come with cautionary instruction. This was the first time GEM was working alongside Admiral Madison’s top secret SEAL team called STAR Force, the acronym for Standing and Ready Force. She was warned that there might be resistance among the men, who might object to the fairly active role that she would be playing in the forthcoming assignment. Her authority would constantly be challenged. First, she had to convince their leader, a man she suspected didn’t always follow rules himself. Then—she thought of the pendant lying heavy and tempting between her breasts—she had to deal with the Joint Task Force leader, Jazz. She didn’t know exactly how or what she was going to do with him, but she knew instinctively that working close with him was going to be dangerous for her peace of mind.

  Vivi turned back to Hawk. “Perhaps you should talk to your men first.”

  “They understand what a Patrol Leader’s Order is.”

  “And are SEALs good at following those orders?” Vivi asked.

  “Hasn’t Lieutenant Zeringue been a good boy?”

  She finally darted a glance at Jazz. She had been aware of his quiet observation all along, shoulder leaning against a big barrel nearby. Her heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes—hard and penetrating, as if he was seeing something new. Of course he was; he hadn’t seen the real Vivienne Verreau. He also hadn’t known she was going to be working with his team.

  “I didn’t know that was a prerequisite of being a SEAL,” she murmured, eyes still on Jazz. “Are all SEALs good boys, then?”

  “We’re all good at some skill or another, Miss Verreau. Some are more hidden than others, that’s all,” Hawk told her. “Right, Jazz?”

  “So I’m finding out.” Jazz straightened up and came a few steps closer.

  “So let’s all find out together how we can combine our skills for this new operation, shall we?” Hawk didn’t move from his position beside Vivi. “I think we both have our own separate instructions from our agencies. I suggest we exchange the documents privately before we proceed. Jazz, they’ve set up a war room for us. The boys will lead you there and give you details about the last couple of days while Miss Verreau and I get our game plan together.”

  The men exchanged the merest eye contact. It was just the barest of pauses, and Vivi was sure no one but she noticed it. Jazz didn’t answer as he did as he was ordered.

  “From what Admiral Madison told me,” Hawk said to her within Jazz’s hearing, “I think we’ll work well together, Vivienne. I have more to tell you over dinner tonight.”

  Startled, Vivi gazed straight into the golden eyes of the man beside her. They were filled with amused mockery, and there was a ghost of a smile curving his lips. She darted a quick glance at Jazz’s. He hadn’t turned around but she imagined that his back was a little straighter. Her eyes returned to Hawk to see that small smile growing into a satisfied and devious grin. Okay, so Commander McMillan was even more observant than she had credited him.

  She gave Hawk a sultry smile. “We’ll see.”

  Over his dead body. If there were going to be any combination of dinner and Vivi, it would be with him, not Hawk. But Jazz didn’t say anything as he joined his motley crew, most of whom had huge grins pa
inted on their faces. He gave them a shrug as they greeted him.

  “That was one way to get free bed and board for a couple days, man!”

  “Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Jazz countered lazily.

  “Made any new friends in the big house?”

  “None with your big balls, sweetheart.” That one was met with howls of laughter.

  “Who’s the Frenchie?”

  Jazz glanced back casually at Vivi and Hawk. Damn it. He had her laughing already. It didn’t look like they were in deep discussion about a job.

  “You know about as much as I do,” Jazz answered smoothly as he turned abruptly away. He followed his men as they led him to a wooden door that had seen better days. “Does this go to the ‘war’ room, or a toolshed?”

  “Oh, you need to take a look at this place.” Cucumber opened the door, revealing a dark stairway. “It’s pretty amazing.”

  “How did we get to meet here?” Jazz peered down into the darkness. “I thought we were to be picked up at Point Zero.”

  Point Zero was their original rendezvous place. Of course that was several days ago. Jazz knew it was his fault that they were still in the area. This new development was a surprise, though. He had expected very little delay after his release.

  “Don’t know how, but Hawk led us here after getting in touch with Mad Dog.”

  Jazz nodded. Of course Admiral Madison would have contingency plans in case one of his teams had a setback. Failure for a SEAL team wasn’t an option, but a setback was always possible. If one of them was injured or captured, Admiral Madison would know it immediately and would be the first to take responsibility. He was that kind of a leader. Jazz also knew that the admiral would try his utmost to save the injured or captured SEAL. No micro-management, with outside people calling in asking for permission to do anything. No bureaucratic B.S. If he had to, Admiral Madison would simply fly down here personally and take charge.

  “Let me see what’s down there then, and then you can tell me what’s going on,” he said.