FROST SECURITY: Richard

by Glenna Sinclair

  Things made more sense, now. The way I was drawn to Jessica Long, the way I felt about her, the way her smell had hit me like a hurricane the first moment I’d been in the room with her. But, it was still crazy, wasn’t it? To think that some person was destined for me like this? I stepped back a little. “What if, what if she doesn’t return, you know, my feelings?”

  He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “I saw the way you were holding each other when I drove up earlier. You’re a fucking idiot if you’re worried. She can’t keep her eyes off you when you’re around.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Think so?”

  “Know so,” he said, pressing a finger to the side of his nose. “My eyes may deceive me, but this nose don’t lie. So just admit it.”

  I shook my head in disbelief and sighed, looked back up to the cabin. “You’re right,” I finally said, “I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s just, God, she’s just beautiful and funny and sweet and strong-”

  He took his hand off my shoulder. “Keep it to yourself, buddy. Not all of us are so lucky, if you catch my drift. I just didn’t know if Peter had told you, or not, and I wanted to congratulate you on finding her, that’s all.”

  I turned back to him, wincing a little as I realized how he might feel like I was gloating or lording it over his head “Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking, man.”

  He shrugged, held up a hand. “Forget about it. No offense taken. Now, though, we need to make sure Jessica’s safe. Need to focus on that. Agreed?”

  I nodded. “Agreed. I need you to speak to Sheriff Peak when you get back into town. I would have done it myself, but I wanted her safe and out of harm’s way first. Tell him what happened on the road, best as you can, and about how we think the Skull and Bones MC are involved, Lacy’s got a dossier on them put together if you need some more information. Sooner he can get involved, I think, the better off we’ll be. Maybe he can even make an arrest in the case.”

  Frank nodded again and pulled open the driver side door. “I’ll call soon as I have reception.”

  “Good,” I said, stepping away from the car. “Any problems, get in touch Peter. He should be back in town soon, but you should be able to reach him by phone if there’s any issues or questions.”

  “Will do,” he replied before climbing in and shutting the door. As he started up the engine, I turned to leave. “Hey, Murdoch” he called as I walked away.

  I spun around to face Frank. “Yeah?”

  “You only get one mate for life,” he said. “Keep her safe, and don’t let anything happen to her.”

  I nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  He nodded and pulled out of the little drive, turned the wheels on his old, previously pristine Mustang and headed back down the mountain, and towards Enchanted Rock.

  I watched him as he navigated the mountain road for the next minute or so, his car shifted into a low gear as he took the decline.

  A mate, huh? That’s what Jessica was? Was this how my parents had felt about each other? Like they were being pulled together by destiny, drawn to one another despite traditions of my dad’s pack? Had the feelings been so strong that he’d defied them entirely? I turned back, looked to the cabin. I shook my head, still in disbelief about what Frank had told me.

  Jess and I, we had the next few days together. Alone. And Frank seemed to think she shared my feelings, at least partially.

  I kicked a loose rock, sent it flying off into the grass and undergrowth beneath a stand of nearby pine trees, and headed back up into the cabin. I still had some wood to chop, but first I needed to see how Jessica was settling in.

  I hoped Frank was right about her. If he wasn’t, I didn’t know how I was going to continue on. Not with the job, of course. My dedication to the mission, and to perform it fully, wasn’t even in question. What was in question, though, was how I’d go through everything else when this was all said and done. If I couldn’t have Jessica, I guess I’d muddle through somehow.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Jessica

  If you had asked me when I was a senior in college if I ever thought I'd settle down in a little cabin in the mountains, cooking dinner every night and baking on the weekends, I would have told you to go screw yourself. It just wasn’t something I wanted. It's not that I ever begrudged other women who searched for this kind of domestic bliss, but I couldn’t picture myself doing the same thing and having it feel right.

  Now, as I cut potatoes and waited for the water to boil, with the sound of Richard chopping wood out behind the cabin, I felt a certain sense of peace. Even with all the crap going on in the world outside, I still felt like I was protected here, safe from the slings and arrows of the men trying to terrorize me. I realized then what those people had been craving: safety, security, certainty.

  I knew, of course, on a rational level that this was all false, even as I pulled two steaks from the refrigerator and set them out on the counter so they could come to room temperature before I rubbed them down with seasoning. I was feeling this sense of security, of certainty, in a safe house with a man I was paying to protect me. But, no matter how much rationality I used, I still couldn’t shake how right this place and moment felt. Not necessarily because I was in a domestic situation. No, not that. But, ridiculously, that I was in this domestic scenario with Richard.

  I'd only just met the man! But, something about him just made me feel safe, special, cherished even. Like an intangible bond, deeper than I understood with my rational mind, connected us. A link between myself and him. From the way he handled the dogs, to the way he could tenderly pull me into his arms and I’d be instantly assured that the world would be a better place someday.

  For example, with Frank O’Dwyer, I knew I would feel physically safe if it was only me and him. I could tell, just at one glance, that he was a competent defender, that he’d been doing this bodyguard thing for a while, and had been working security for years. But he didn’t instill the same sense of that peace that Richard did. It was like having a gun around the house. The gun would protect me, maybe, but the gun wouldn’t ever let me forget that the outside world was dangerous. That was the difference between them. Frank could protect me. Richard, on the other hand, could make the world seem less out for blood.

  I generously salted the water as it approached a rapid boil, dropped the potatoes into the water. The steak would be warmer, soon, and the guys kept a couple cast iron skillets around that would be perfect for them.

  I turned the gas oven on as Richard’s ax thunked into the wood again, that distinctive crack of the log as it split apart beneath the steel blade. I glanced out the window, caught sight of him again. He’d stripped his shirt off, tossed it aside. I guess he’d taken the challenge of replenishing the firewood seriously, and he already had a sheen of sweat covering his back and arms, the tattoos down his side.

  I bit my lip with a little groan, before I caught myself staring and shook my head with a little giggle. This was still ridiculous. And I knew it. I pulled the steaks over in front of me and began seasoning them with salt and pepper. Nothing more, nothing less.

  No matter how Richard made me feel, that didn’t mean he felt that way about me. Did he? I glanced back up through the window, then, just in time to catch him looking back at me through the glass as he wiped his shirt over his sweat sheened chest. It seemed he’d been looking for a while. He smiled a little before turning back and hefting the ax in his hands.

  Had he been looking right back at me? Just now, in that exact same way? A little thrill went through my body, a bizarre trill of excitement. I smiled and shook my head, went back to seasoning the steaks.

  Could I have been wrong? Could he have felt the same? Suddenly, I felt as giddy as a school girl. Maybe, just maybe, he did. Whatever the case, I knew I had at least three days to find out one way or the other. Who cared if I had a deadly biker gang out looking for me during that time? I’d be here with Richard, wouldn’t I?

  I glanced b
ack up, caught him looking back over his shoulder at me, those cool gray eyes of his intense as they locked with mine. I smiled again, a little lopsided smile, and lowered my eyes as I bit my lip.

  “Three days, Jess,” I whispered. “Maybe even a freaking week.”

  The sound of Richard chopping wood resumed, each strike echoing back from the mountains like God himself was stocking up the winter pile. I dropped the potatoes in the boiling water and set the steaks aside.

  I could get used to this, I thought again, this whole cooking for two. Maybe even more, like perhaps for a little boy and a little girl. I really could.

  Chapter Thirty

  Richard

  There’s something about the meditative experience of hard, repetitive work. Like Mr. Miyagi taught in Karate Kid. Sure, chopping wood didn’t teach me anything about better fighting, but it still gave me a good work out and let me clear my mind.

  And, after my discussion with Frank out front, I needed to clear some of the clutter out. If what he’d told me was true, Frost had known about my feelings for Jessica the moment he’d seen us together. He was as aware of my background as any of the other guys. More so, probably. Why had he withheld the information? Just to screw with me?

  I grunted as I swung the ax head down, split the long into two staves with a single strike.

  Did he want to hide the truth, just like my dad had? Make me figure it out on my own? I still resented my old man hiding the facts from me, still held it against him that he hadn’t put his parents’ contact info in that old letter that my mom gave to me when I was old enough. So many questions would been answered for me. I know I wouldn’t have had a normal life like a human, or anything. But maybe I’d have some kind of grip on who I was, what kind of world I really came from?

  It wasn’t Peter’s place to hold that back from me when he saw it coming.

  I picked up another log, put it on our chopping stump, and set it up to go. I hefted the ax up and over my head, brought it down with both hands like a barbarian lumberjack. The thud and the crack of the wood splitting in twain gave me a visceral kind of joy, and I set up another in its place.

  Of course, the flip-side of the coin was that Peter might not have felt it his place to tell me. He wasn’t my father, he wasn’t my older brother. He was my pack-leader. Maybe, to him, his responsibility to me didn’t extend into my love life.

  I picked up the split logs, piling them up in my naked arms, and walked them to the back wall of the house, stacked them with the rest. The cool mountain air blew over my bare skin, feeling wonderful on the layer of sweat that covered my naked, lightly furred chest. I could live like this forever, I realized. Me out here, chopping wood, taking care of the homestead. A beautiful woman, Jessica, inside, waiting for me.

  I mean, I’d still want to learn to cook, and wouldn’t leave all the chores to my partner. That’d just be stupid. I would hope I’d end up with a woman who didn’t want to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, just making me sandwiches while I did man’s work around the house. That wasn’t my style at all.

  But, as far as cooking went, there was something about the alchemy of it and baking that was just totally beguiling to me. Creating a meal from nothing? It seemed more complicated than splitting logs in two, or fighting off some biker.

  But, living out here in a place like this, with a woman like Jessica? I could see that. I tossed the staves on the pile, made sure they were stacked properly up against the back of the cabin, and grabbed a pile of unhewn logs and headed back to the chopping stump. I dropped them in on the grass next to the ax and placed one on the stump, went back to chopping.

  I just hoped Frank would be able to get Sheriff Peak to do something. That he’d be able to make him shit or get off the pot. Otherwise, we’d be in an all out shooting war with the Skull and Bones before everything was said and done. And it wouldn’t be them who started it, either. I had no qualms with killing a man. I’d done it plenty of times in Afghanistan.

  If it came to protecting my mate, even if she and I weren’t official in any way, shape, form, or fashion? I’d kill Wyatt in a heart beat. Especially if he didn’t back off. It was the law of the wild out here, sometimes, and I was a wolf. I didn’t need a lawyer to explain the vagaries of kill-or-be-killed to me. I’d seen it, participated in it, lived it. If the Skull and Bones wanted to come at Jess with more force than last time, to try and touch one single hair on her head, I’d come back twice as hard, three times as mean. I’d make them scream for their mommies and daddies before I was done with them.

  My ears perked as I heard the front screen door open and close, the quiet thud of feminine feet on hollow deck. I turned around, wiped the sweat from my brow with my forearm. Jessica came around the corner, a vision of loveliness even in this place of beauty.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” Jessica called, her hand held up to shield her eyes from the dying sun. She looked gorgeous, ephemeral like that, with the light seeming to halo her heard.

  “Thanks,” I said. “What’re we having?”

  “Steak and potatoes.”

  “Delicious,” I replied with a wolfish grin. “Let me get cleaned up here and I’ll head in.”

  “Want me to start a fire while I wait?” she asked, pointing to the logs as she came closer.

  “Don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said. “I can handle it.”

  “I think I can start a fire,” she said. “Or is that not women’s work?”

  I laughed, leaned down to grab my shirt. “I don’t really think about women’s or man’s work. I think people should just do what they need to do, specifically what they’re good at. And, if they’re not any good, they should try and get better. Is that so wrong?”

  She laughed. “No, that’s not wrong at all. Almost feminist, actually.”

  “Feminist, huh? Pretty sure I’ve never been accused of being one of those before.”

  “Well, I went to college,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “and I read some books. And you sound like one.”

  “Well, I didn’t,” I admitted. “Go to college, I mean. But, if you know how to start a fire, and you’re not too busy with the steaks, the fireplace is yours, too.”

  She grinned. “Okay, I will. You need to do me one favor, though.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, pulling my shirt back over my head and straightening the front.

  “Could you bring in the wood for me? My weak woman’s arms can’t carry many logs at one time.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed with a laugh, “I can do that.”

  She turned and headed back inside.

  Another thing I realized about the benefits of the meditative work? It helped keep my mind off Jessica. Now, just as she’d left, I’d felt the need to be close to her stirring inside me again. I wanted, no needed, her by my side. When she was near me, my blood sang the same way it did when I was on the hunt with the rest of my pack. There just wasn’t any other way things could turn out.

  There were just two things wrong with that: she needed to return my feelings, and protocol. I grunted as I put the last of the wood in my arms and headed back around to the front of the cabin. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through these three days without making a move on her, but I knew I would.

  I had to.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Jessica

  He came back into the living room from the shower smelling like clean, the smell of soap and pine sap still on him, something I realized I could get used to. I'd laid out dinner at the small table. Steaks, mashed potatoes, a light salad to top it off. I’d fished out a bottle of red from a lower cabinet, an older Merlot that I hoped was still good.

  “Smells delicious,” he growled, pulled a chair out and taking a seat. “Wine, huh? Where’d you manage to find that?”

  “Squirreled away,” I replied, pouring a glass for myself in one of the small tumblers I’d found in the cabinets. He declined his own small amount, but I poured him a touch anyway. “Wha
t kind of dinner is it without wine?”

  “A sober one,” he replied, dropping a paper napkin on his lap.

  The way he ate dinner, and the noises of appreciation he made, had me a little concerned at the overall effect it was having on him. “Enjoying the steak?” I asked as he tore into the hunk of beef.

  “God yes,” he said as he cut off another piece and dragged it through potatoes. “You’re going to spoil me for all my future protection details.”

  I laughed. “Well, maybe I can get another discount from your boss, then,” I joked. “For providing meals while on the job?”

  “Maybe,” he replied with a wink. “I’ll talk to Pete when we come down from the mountain.”

  The rest of dinner, we chatted about the cabin we were staying in, about how he and his boss had renovated it, made all the updates over the course of a summer when their business had just opened. Then, when I was finished asking questions about all the work they’d put into it, we discussed my time at university, the classes I’d taken, how I’d settled on marine biology as a minor.

  When the meal was finished, he cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen while I retired to the couch with my wine. I was only on my second glass, but I could already feel the alcohol going to my head. I set the cup on the coffee table, drew my feet up, and laid back. I relaxed into the cushions with a smile creeping across my face as I looked at the fire I’d gotten crackling in the fireplace.

  Pleasant dinner conversation with a handsome man who was actually doing the dishes? A cabin deep in the woods, isolated, quiet, with a beautiful view? I wasn’t going to lie, I could get used to this. Everything else aside, like the stalker and the biker gang hunting me, this was turning out to be a nice little vacation.

  Richard came into the living room a few moments later after having set the pots and pans to soaking in the sink. He dropped onto the other end of the couch, sighing, a content look on his face as he glanced at me.