Seducing the Colonel's Daughter: Seducing the Colonel's DaughterThe Secret Soldier

by Jennifer Morey

  “I’m sorry to call so late,” he was saying as she came to a stop near the kitchen table. “I’m all right—” Whoever was on the other end of the connection must have cut him off. “Just listen, Odie. A Commander Birch will probably be calling sometime tomorrow. When he does, I need you to give him a number where he can reach me.” He gave the person named Odie Sabine’s phone number.

  After a pause he said, “You’ll know when you watch the news in the morning.” Another pause. “Just give him the number. And if anyone asks you about SCS, tell them you have no comment.” Sabine couldn’t tell if the person named Odie was talking.

  When he disconnected, he turned and saw Sabine standing there. She felt uncomfortable, as though she’d pried into his personal affairs. Then she caught herself putting his feelings ahead of her own. If the media exposed him, it wasn’t her fault. Besides, she wanted to know what they’d have to say and it was the only way she’d find out. Cullen wouldn’t tell her.

  * * *

  Since early that morning, Cullen had been watching the news, waiting for the break to come when someone figured out who he was. He found meager satisfaction that they weren’t having an easy time of it. What really gnawed at him, though, was how the mystery heightened public fascination over his alleged romance with Sabine.

  A sound made him look toward the hall. Sabine appeared, dressed in jeans and a white turtleneck sweater. The fact that the sight of her still stirred his desire annoyed him to no end. He knew what was underneath that sweater and inside those jeans. It was the candy that made him careless enough to send his entire life into chaos.

  She moved farther into the room. Sweet candy. Irresistible sugar to his senses. His temper simmered hotter—at himself, not her. For letting her get to him the way she did.

  He watched her fold her arms as she moved closer to the television. She looked tentative and he wondered if she was curious of what the news would reveal about him. When she saw there was a commercial playing, she turned and went into the kitchen.

  He listened to her pour a cup of coffee from the pot he’d just brewed. Moments later a local newsbreak began. Sabine came into the living room, sending him a wary but stoic glance.

  Pretty soon she’d know everything. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Angry with himself, for sure. Disconcerted. Maybe even a little nervous.

  “Little is known about the man who rescued Sabine O’Clery from what appears to be terrorists in Afghanistan,” the anchorwoman began, “but one thing is clear—he’s resurfaced in Roaring Creek, Colorado, O’Clery’s remote mountain hometown.”

  A picture of Cullen looking right at the camera appeared on the screen.

  “Aside from photographs and O’Clery’s claim he’s from the United States, her rescuer’s identity remains a closely guarded secret. Sources from the U.S. military continue to deny any involvement in O’Clery’s rescue, and her father insists the man shown in this photo doesn’t work for his private military firm, credited with arranging the mission.

  “So who is this man who saved Sabine O’Clery’s life?” The anchorwoman smiled. “Nobody seems to know.”

  Another photo appeared, this one of Cullen and Sabine kissing in the middle of the street.

  “But whoever he is, the romance that started on a Greek island hasn’t cooled. Is it love? And the question on everyone’s mind—has O’Clery’s rescuer resurfaced in response to her recent attack? George, can you tell us more?”

  A live view of the reporter who’d photographed Cullen appeared on the screen.

  “I saw Sabine O’Clery’s rescuer come out from behind that building.” The camera moved to show the building where Cullen had stayed. “Which is right across the street from O’Clery’s bookstore.” The camera returned to Minivan Man. “It isn’t confirmed yet, but we think he’s living there.”

  Cullen stood and went to the window to peer outside. He spotted Minivan Man in front of a camera and wanted to clamp his hands around the reporter’s scrawny neck.

  “As soon as he realized I was taking pictures of him, he came after me. I ran to my vehicle and barely had time to close and lock my door before he reached me. For a while there I thought he was going to tear the door off to get at me.” The man laughed as though in awe and shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to mess with that fellow. Not only was he mad, he looked like he could take down a tree with his bare hands. More than capable of rescuing a woman from a country like Afghanistan….”

  Cullen smirked through the window.

  Sabine’s telephone rang. He spun in time to see her go to answer it. He strode toward the telephone. When she lifted the handset, he took it from her.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m looking at your face on television.”

  Cullen closed his eyes. It was the call he’d been dreading yet desperately hoping would never come. Tyler Birch. His army commander. Cullen gripped the phone tighter.

  “Tell me you aren’t the man who rescued Sabine O’Clery in Afghanistan. Tell me I’m mistaken.”

  Cullen didn’t say anything. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at Sabine. He resented the sympathy he saw.

  He didn’t waste time or words. “You’re not mistaken.”

  Birch cursed vividly three times. “What the hell is the matter with you? Does your duty mean nothing to you?”

  “It means everything to me.”

  “Your actions don’t show me that.”

  Arguing would only make this worse. Cullen said nothing.

  “You’ve embarrassed me,” Birch said. “And you’ve embarrassed the army. How do you expect us to answer questions from the press? One of our own carried out a mission in an unstable country without our knowledge. How do you think that makes us look?”

  “I rescued a civilian.”

  “Yeah, and I’d like to know how. Where did you find the resources?”

  Cullen couldn’t answer that. Telling Birch his company was only a guise for something much bigger would jeopardize key people in the government who could not be exposed. If he had any hope of salvaging anything of his career, he had to play this very carefully. He hated the prospect of losing his position with the army, but if he had to, he would.

  “Can’t tell me, huh?” Birch said, anger growing in his tone. “Who’s in on it with you? More of our own?” Birch laughed without humor. “That company of yours always did make me wonder. What are you hiding, McQueen?”

  “I never intended to put you in a compromising position,” he said, unable to say more.

  A long silence carried over the line. “When I found out it was you kissing Sabine O’Clery at the London airport, I couldn’t believe it. I thought the man in that photo looked familiar, but I didn’t think you were stupid enough to do something like that.”

  Cullen felt himself go numb as he continued to look at Sabine. “I saved her life, sir.”

  “Don’t you ‘sir’ me. What do you want? A medal?”

  “She would have been killed if I hadn’t done it.”

  “That doesn’t change a thing. You went in there on your own, without army authorization. If you were more than a reservist, I’d court martial you.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Did you kill anyone while you were over there?”

  Cullen didn’t answer, because he had.

  “If you did, you did plenty wrong. Those kills weren’t sanctioned, McQueen. Some people will see that as murder.”

  Cullen turned his back to Sabine to hide his crumbling hope.

  “You crossed the line. I’m going to initiate administrative action to have you discharged from the army.”

  Defeat made him drop his head. This could end everything he’d worked for, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. “I’m asking you to reconsider.”

&n
bsp; “There’s nothing to reconsider. I’ve made my decision. You’re finished, McQueen.”

  Birch disconnected before Cullen could protest.

  He stood holding the phone to his ear awhile longer, unable to believe this happened. His commander didn’t have to initiate administrative action against him. Birch couldn’t court martial him as a reservist, but he did have a choice over whether or not to take administrative action. And he had made that choice. Cullen’s Black Ops went deeper than even Birch knew, and that came as too much of a blow to his pride.

  Hanging the handset back on its base, Cullen was glad his back was turned and Sabine couldn’t see the depth of his angst. Losing his company was one thing, but losing his reputation with the army was unthinkable. There was no honor in a dismissal like the one Birch threatened. No integrity. How could he look back on this when he was an old man and not have regrets?

  He turned then. Sabine stood with her arms folded protectively in front of her, her beautiful green eyes round and wide with concern and sympathy.

  Letting her kiss him that first time had started all this. If he would have just stopped it, if he hadn’t made love to her, maybe he wouldn’t have felt compelled to come to her after hearing about her attack. And if he hadn’t made love to her, he wouldn’t have been caught kissing her in the middle of the street. He was so angry for losing control of his self-discipline. He should have known better. He should have seen this coming and stopped it.

  Chapter 10

  Another breaking news report sounded from the television. The corner of the screen filled with the face shot of Cullen.

  He moved into the living room as the anchorwoman summarized what she’d said in previous reports. Then she started into the new information that must have been gathered through the morning. “Margaret Schlepp, a neighbor of Luc and Penny McQueen, has confirmed the identity of the man who rescued Sabine O’Clery from Afghanistan. Cullen McQueen is a reservist with the U.S. Army Special Operations Command in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, and he’s anything but ordinary. His uncle, Luc McQueen, a well-respected retired army commander, has declined to comment on the heroic efforts of his nephew, but his neighbor had plenty to say.” The screen showed an old woman standing on her front porch.

  “I always thought it was strange the way they talked so proud of Luc’s nephew when all they said he did was run a security temp agency somewhere in Virginia,” Margaret Schlepp said, squinting under the Montana sun and showing missing front teeth. “SCS or something like that.”

  The woman had no idea of the damage she’d just done, Cullen thought, his spirits sinking to a new low. The name of his company was on the news. It was all over now. They knew who he was.

  “The more we learn about this man, the better it gets,” the anchorwoman quipped, smiling.

  Sickened, he watched the screen fill with a view of his company in Alexandria, Virginia. The camera zoomed in on SCS’s redbrick exterior and darkly tinted windows.

  “With no advertisements describing its operation, no phone listings or evidence of a customer base, SCS appears to be much more than a simple temp agency. In fact, that seems to be the cover that hides its true purpose. Workers from neighboring businesses say they aren’t familiar with the company or its founder and sole owner, Cullen McQueen. Few reported seeing employees enter and exit the building and couldn’t identify McQueen as one of them. The SCS Agency is so secretive that it was difficult learning what the acronym stood for. Security Consulting Services sounds like a temp agency, but it’s much more than that.”

  A video of Cullen’s secretary waving away a cameraman and a reporter who followed her toward the entrance to SCS played on the television.

  “Ms. Frank,” a reporter called, “did your employer orchestrate the rescue mission that saved Sabine O’Clery’s life?”

  “No comment,” Odelia answered harshly as she marched away.

  “Did O’Clery’s father hire your company to rescue her?”

  Odelia opened the front door of SCS and disappeared inside.

  The screen showed the anchorwoman again. “Odelia Frank might seem like an ordinary secretary to someone who walks through the bulletproof doors of SCS, but her background dispels any doubt as to the character of the company. Former J-3 Operations captain with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Ms. Frank still holds her Top Secret security clearance and is an expert markswoman. This from an interview with her ex-husband.” The screen went to a picture of a man sitting lazily on his living room couch, gloating as he revealed his ex-wife’s expertise. A few minutes later, the screen switched back to a smiling anchorwoman. “With a secretary like that, there’s little doubt the SCS Agency is capable of carrying out a rescue mission. We’ll update you as we get more.”

  The anchorwoman turned to her coanchor, still smiling. “It seems Ms. O’Clery has caught herself quite a man.”

  “Yes, it does, Mary,” the newsman beside her said. Then the man led the broadcast into the weather.

  The telephone rang again. Sabine went to answer it on the third ring. When she hung up, Cullen knew it was a reporter calling. They had her phone number now.

  He moved to the front window and watched the chaos building in front of Sabine’s bookstore. The sight increased the weight of his situation. He was beginning to understand how his father had felt when his life had begun to crumble.

  The telephone rang yet again.

  Sabine answered and he heard the strain in her voice.

  “I know. We just saw it.” There was silence while she listened. “A reporter caught us when we got home after dinner last night.” Pause. “Yes.” Pause. “No.” Pause. “I don’t know.” A longer pause. “All right.”

  Sabine hung up. “My father wants us to come to my mother’s house. He said he can secure us from the media there. He can help us.”

  Realizing he did need help, probably for the first time in his life, Cullen sighed as he continued to look down at the growing throng in front of Sabine’s bookstore. His career with the army appeared to be over. His company could lose the covert government support it needed to exist. He couldn’t imagine what his life was going to be like without the things he’d worked so hard to achieve. Lost in all this was the impact such a company had on the fight against terrorism. American dignity. Freedom. Humanity. Everything that mattered most to him.

  “All we need to do is get there.”

  Cullen turned. Holding a duffel bag in one hand and the keys to her Jeep in the other, she looked wary of him.

  Walking toward her, he reached for the keys in her hand. “I’ll drive.”

  She gave him the keys.

  Downstairs, Cullen swung the back door open and marched outside. Three reporters were on him in an instant.

  “Mr. McQueen, can you tell us why you’re here?”

  “Do you suspect Sabine’s attack is related to her kidnapping in Afghanistan?”

  “Do you have any plans to marry the woman you rescued?”

  Cameras pinged and snapped all around him. He grabbed the nearest one and yanked it to the ground, shattering it into pieces.

  “Hey, you’re going to pay for that!”

  He leaned over the cameraman. “Make me.”

  “Cullen.” Sabine’s fingers curled over his biceps. “Let’s go.”

  The cameraman’s eyes were wide and he stepped back. Cullen sent each of the others a threatening glance before he moved out of Sabine’s reach and climbed behind the wheel of the Jeep. When she closed the door on her side, he sprayed gravel driving away.

  * * *

  Sabine moved to the dining room window of her mother’s cabin. Through the large pane of glass, clouds painted the sky a gloomy gray, matching her mood. Last night the news had flourished with images of Cullen destroying the reporter’s camera, followed by his menacing “Make me” comment.
Rather than painting him as a dangerous character who operated outside the law, they embellished the he-man quality of his reaction, making references to his size and fearlessness. It was all so ridiculous, particularly in light of the fact that they were crucifying a man’s livelihood.

  She never thought she’d be happy her father had access to men who could keep the reporters at bay. But this morning a helicopter had landed in the clearing near her mother’s cabin and six men had filed out. They were now camped at the end of the driveway. Mercenaries were guarding them, and she was glad about that. Who would have thought?

  Turning her head, she spotted Cullen sitting in a plaid living room chair, his body slouched against the back, eyes hard and looking right at her. She could almost hear his thoughts beaming across the room at her. If only he hadn’t been stranded with her on a Greek island. If only he hadn’t made love with her. If only he hadn’t kissed her in London.

  If only, if only.

  Her father sat on the couch. He’d just finished talking on a radio with one of his men down at the end of the driveway. Her mother waited in the kitchen for another kettle of water to boil for tea. They were all waiting for Cullen’s secretary to call.

  Sighing, impatient and feeling trapped, Sabine moved to the couch and sat beside her father. He looked at her in surprise as he clipped his phone to his belt. From the chair, Cullen brooded.

  He looked lazy slouched the way he was, legs spread, arms on the rests. Only his eyes moved, but she could feel the energy from them. His cell phone rang. He answered it as he stood, tall and big in dark blue jeans and a white button-up shirt. Sabine listened to him go into the sunroom next to the dining area.

  “It’s worse than I thought,” her father said from beside her.

  She turned to look at him, wondering what he meant. “Excuse me?”

  “You and Cullen.”

  Realizing he’d been sitting there taking mental notes of her and Cullen’s behavior, Sabine felt her guard go up. “It’s a little soon for a father-daughter talk.” She couldn’t even imagine them having one.