Major Perfect: Men Out of Uniform Book 2

by Rhonda Russell

  She knew her mother would react that way, that’s why Emma hadn’t mentioned the extra work with Darcy. But honest work was honest work. She’d also picked up a couple of cover shifts at the video store for Dwight Allen. Dwight had stolen her peanut butter and jelly sandwich in Kindergarten, but that hadn’t kept her from working for him, had it?

  They were too poor to be too proud and as long as she was off the street corner and someone was willing to pay her to do honest work, she’d do it. Hell, she’d made it through basic training and had thrived in the military. She could withstand a little degrading company in exchange for the cash they needed. Was it galling? Of course. She wouldn’t be human otherwise. But Emma had to keep the greater good of things in mind and if that meant swallowing a little pride in order to put food on the table, then so be it.

  “Well, I don’t care how bad we need the money, we’ll sell the Victrola before you work another minute for Darcy Marcus.”

  “Ouch!” Mrs. Wilkins yelped with an angry glance up at her mother. “You’re pulling my hair.”

  “Sorry,” her mother mumbled contritely.

  “We’re not selling the Victrola,” Emma said, repressing a weary sigh. That Victrola had belonged to her grandparents and represented the last bastion of a life that they used to know. Even Emma could remember her grandparents breaking the old album player out, moving the furniture back against the walls and dancing around the living room. There were dozens of happy memories associated with the old piece and she would not--absolutely would not--let it go.

  They’d lose the house before they lost the Victrola.

  “Emmaline,” her mother began, using her full given name. “I want you to promise me that you won’t--“

  Thankfully the telephone rang cutting off the beginning of an extorted promise Emma had no intention of keeping.

  “Lena’s On Main,” Emma answered.

  “Emma?” a familiar voice, but one she’d never expected to hear again, asked.

  “Colonel Hastings?”

  “Ah, it is you,” he said happily.

  She sincerely doubted her old boss needed a hair cut or a manicure, so to say that his call was unexpected would have been a huge understatement. “Er...yes, sir. It’s me.”

  “Excellent, Langsford. I have a business opportunity I’d like to run by you and I wondered if you were available at the moment to talk.”

  “Sure, sir,” Emma told him, struggling to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

  “Excellent. I’m outside in the black Town Car. I’ll wait for you.”

  Flabbergasted, Emma felt her eyes widen. She craned her head toward the front of the store and peered out the window. Colonel Hastings was here? In Marble Springs? But--

  “Is something wrong?” her mother asked, evidently noting the shocked look on her daughter’s face.

  “Er... I’ll be right out, sir.” Emma replaced the receiver, then stood and glanced distractedly at her mother. “Colonel Hastings is here.”

  Lena’s perfectly arched brows furrowed. “Colonel Hastings? But isn’t that--“

  “It is,” Emma confirmed grimly.

  Her brows rose. “Well, what does he want?”

  Now that was an excellent question, Emma thought as she made her way to the door. She had absolutely no idea.

  Emma ordered Winston to stay--he followed her everywhere, bless his old grateful heart--then slid her suddenly sweating palms over her thighs, pushed through the door and out into the biting winter air. Exhaust streamed from the muffler of the Town Car idling at the curb. The rear passenger window powered down, revealing the Colonel’s smiling face. “Ah,” he said. “Now aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Come on, child.” He opened the door for her. “Climb on in.”

  Still a bit rattled by his unexpected visit, Emma slid into the roomy back seat and savored the warmth which instantly enveloped her. The heat in her old Ford had played out and she was typically an icicle before she made it into town.

  “It’s er... It’s nice to see you sir,” she finally managed for lack of anything better. A more relevant response would have been “What the hell are you doing here?” but she didn’t see herself asking that question.

  Not to him.

  “Oh, and you, too,” he said, looking as though he really meant it.

  She knew that he’d had high hopes for her and had been disappointed when she’d decided to leave the military, but... Well, she never dreamed he’d actually look her up.

  “Is there a café or anything nearby where we could talk?” he asked.

  “Sure. There’s a little diner up on the corner.”

  The Colonel instructed the driver to take them there, then turned once more to her and smiled. “I’m sure you have to be wondering what I’m doing here.”

  Emma felt a grin twist her lips. “I’m curious,” she admitted drolly.

  “Such cheek,” he enthused, seemingly charmed. “That’s what I always liked about you, Langsford. Wit, courage, smarts. You should have stuck with me. You had a promising career.”

  Emma swallowed. “I know, sir. I--“

  “No worries,” he interrupted soothingly. “We all do what we have to do,” he said. “I understood it then and I understand it now, and that’s part of the reason I’m here.”

  Now that was certainly an enigmatic comment, Emma thought, growing increasingly intrigued as to the reason of his visit.

  Five minutes later they were ensconced in a scarred booth with patched vinyl seats. Curiously, though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, the Colonel looked right at home. He calmly sampled his coffee, smiled at the overweight waitress who delivered the brew and idly glanced around the room, seemingly charmed by the worn décor.

  “So this is home,” he said. “Quaint, but nice. I can see why you’d want to come back here.”

  Emma nodded. Granted there were lots of things about Marble Spring which got on her nerves--the busy-bodies minding everyone’s business, for starters--but overall it was a nice town. Three generations of her family had been born and raised here. There was something to be said for that kind of heritage. Roots, Emma decided. Roots were important.

  “Sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but...why are you here?”

  He smiled. “And that’s another thing I always liked about you. You’re direct.”

  As nice as this all was, she’d really appreciate it if he’d get to the point. “You said you had a business proposition for me? What sort of proposition?”

  He finally leaned forward in his seat, a silent indicator that he was ready to get down to business, the business that had evidently brought him all the way from Fort Benning, Georgia to her little population five-thousand Mississippi town. “Since you appreciate directness, Langsford, I’m going to get right to the point.”

  Emma nodded, encouraging him to go on.

  “There’s a piece of Confederate history which has recently surfaced in Gettysburg and I want you to go get it for me.”

  Emma frowned. Why did he need her to go and get it? Why couldn’t he do it himself?

  “The whereabouts are a bit murky,” he said, evidently anticipating her next question, “and it’s going to take someone with your...particular set of skills to acquire it for me.”

  “My set of skills?” she asked.

  “Precisely. You’re quick, you’re uncannily lucky and, when you want something, you’re ruthless.”

  Emma internally recoiled. She wasn’t ruthless, dammit--she was determined. There was a difference. Granted it might be subtle, but it was there. Had other people seen her that way? she wondered, suddenly alarmed. Had her comrades thought she was ruthless? She’d always been competitive, but ruthless?

  “Sir, I think--“

  “--and when I finish telling you about this mission, Langsford,” he continued, warming to his topic, “you’re going to want it. Badly.”

  “Want what?”

  “The pocket-watch I’m sending you after.”

  Emma
resisted the urge pull her hair. “Pocket-watch?”

  “This particular pocket-watch belonged to General Robert E. Lee. I want it. In fact, I want it so badly that I have bet a fellow officer--a fellow collector--that you can get to it first. Before his guy.”

  Patience had been a virtue she’d always lacked, so as much as she respected the Colonel, she didn’t mince any words. “Sir, this makes absolutely no sense. I, uh-- I don’t have time to look for a pocket-watch, whether it belonged to Robert E. Lee or not. And frankly, I have too much to do and too much to worry about to discuss this any furth--“

  “Ten-thousand dollars,” he said calmly.

  Emma drew up short. “I’m sorry?”

  “That’s what I’m willing to pay.”

  “Me?” she squeaked, gobsmacked.

  “That’s right. If you get to the watch first and deliver it to me, I will pay you ten-thousand dollars.”

  Emma chewed the inside of her cheek, leaned back into the seat and regarded him seriously for the first time since this bizarre conversation began. She could do a lot with ten-thousand dollars. Satisfy the back taxes, take care of the mortgage. Start school. “Brief me again, please.”

  He did. “You will have an advantage because I’m relatively certain that Garrett didn’t share the terms of the bet--or even mentioned it, for that matter--to Major Payne. Are you familiar with him?”

  Emma felt a flutter wing through her belly. Blonde hair, ice blue eyes, a body any warm-blooded woman would instantly salivate over. He was aloof and legendary, supposedly untouchable. Her mouth parched. Oh, yeah. “I’ve heard of him.”

  “He’s a strong opponent, but you’ll have an edge. You know that he’s after the same thing that you are...but he isn’t aware of any competition. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  In order to beat him to it, Emma knew she’d need every advantage she could get. Granted she knew her own worth--she was quick, she was good--but Payne had a reputation for being equally good...if not better. And since Emma knew what she was up against--and how desperately Hastings wanted to insure her participation as well as his victory--she decided different terms were in order.

  “Ten now, plus expenses,” Emma said. “And ten upon delivery.” That was the magic number. She could take care of the back taxes, satisfy what was left on the mortgage and get a jump-start on school. She might be young, but she wasn’t stupid. She needed this. It was exactly the kind of opportunity she’d needed to put her and her mother’s life back on track.

  The Colonel chuckled. “You want to bargain? What makes you think you’re in a position to bargain?”

  Emma smiled at him, cocked her head. “You tipped your hand the instant you drove over here, sir. You need me as much as I need your money.”

  Hastings guffawed, a giant belly laugh which made other diners glance over at them. “And that’s the sort of deduction that makes you worth it. Consider it done, Langsford. I’ve got the necessary paperwork in the car. You leave tomorrow. Is that a problem?”

  She’d have to cancel on Darcy, but that certainly wasn’t a problem. Emma brightened. More like an instant perk. A secret thrill whipped through her. A mission. Now this was more like it. “Not at all, sir.”

  “Excellent. I have your ticket, but you’ll need to take care of hotel accommodations.”

  Emma nodded, her heart lightened with a newfound hope, one she hadn’t had in a long, long time. “Is there anything else I should know about, sir?”

  The Colonel leveled a grave stare at her. “Major Payne isn’t called The Specialist for nothing. He’ll play by the rules.” He shrugged and a crafty gleam suddenly lit his ordinarily jovial gaze. “Let’s just say you don’t have to.”

  So in other words, he wanted her to do whatever she had to do to get it first. Emma felt a wry smile roll around her lips.

  And she was supposedly ruthless?

  CHAPTER 2

  “This is bullshit,” Guy said in his usual blunt fashion. “I can’t believe you’ve agreed to do this.”

  Payne collected his bags from the trunk of the Guy’s car and set them on the curb. Rather than leave his SUV parked in the dubious care of airport security, Payne had asked Guy to give him a ride this morning. If he hadn’t needed to pack another bag and take care of a few niggling business details, he could have exited the flight with Garrett and immediately hopped another towards Gettysburg. As it was, he’d needed a few hours to pull things together for a week’s absence. “We all agreed, remember?”

  “We agreed to do a favor. You don’t think this is a tad over the top? First, a flirting mission for Jamie, now a freakin’ treasure hunt for you?” He snorted. “What’s next?”

  Payne chuckled, shot his friend a you-poor-bastard look. “That’ll be your problem, won’t it?”

  Guy grimaced, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. This is... This is ridiculous, even for Garrett.”

  “We gave our word.” And no matter how futile paying back this favor might seem, it was still worth it. Getting out of the military had been the best thing for all three of them.

  “I know that, dammit,” Guy snapped. “I’m not balking. I’m just annoyed.” He passed a hand over his face, then smiled. “At least I don’t have to worry about you running off, getting married and becoming a seasonal worker.”

  Payne almost smiled. “Definitely not.”

  Though Jamie was still a partner and participated in the day-to-day operations at Ranger Security, he did it from a significant distance. The business was based in Atlanta and Jamie had recently taken up residence in Maine. His new wife’s business was head-quartered there and, while Jamie would never admit it for fear of being henpecked, both he and Guy knew that he preferred the quiet shores of Lake Bliss to the bustling city proper of Atlanta. In fact, it was quite obvious that their friend, the ultimate former player, was happier with Audrey Kincaid Flanagan than he’d ever been with anyone in his life.

  He and Guy had teased him ruthlessly about it, of course, because they’d formed a pact in college to remain bachelors, had even come up with three hard and fast rules to resist the possible temptation of falling in love. One, never let a woman eat off your plate. Two, never spend the whole night with her and three, after the third date, cut her loose.

  Jamie had succumbed to all three a few months ago, and typical of a newly shackled man, was happily imagining he and Guy’s downfall as well. “You’ll see,” he’d told them. “You pitying bastards think you’ve got it all worked out. You don’t. When the right woman comes along, she’s gonna blow those rules outta the water and you’re not going to know what’s hit you. Believe me, I know,” he predicted direly.

  He couldn’t speak for Guy, of course, but Payne knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there wasn’t a woman alive who could knock him so far off his game he’d marry her. He wasn’t so arrogant to think that he might never be tempted into falling in love--he wouldn’t tempt fate by even thinking something like that--but he knew himself and his own resolve well enough to know that he damned sure wasn’t going to permanently attach himself in front of God and witnesses and, most importantly, the Court to one.

  Frankly, he had better sense.

  Granted marriage definitely seemed to be suiting Jamie, but he and Jamie were two completely different people. Despite Jamie’s previous stint in serial dating, Payne had always detected a bit of a longing for a family in Jamie.

  When Danny, their good friend and comrade, had died in their last covert mission for Uncle Sam, things had only worsened for Jamie. Understandably, of course, considering that Danny had taken his last breath in Jamie’s arms. He and Guy hadn’t known that unfortunate tidbit until recently, but once they’d found it out many of the things that Jamie had done--withdrawing from them, going through girls like air--had begun to make sense.

  That was the only thing about Danny’s death that made any sense, though, Payne thought as a familiar pang of loss squeezed his chest. Getting ou
t of the military had become a mission in and of its self after that had happened, which was why they’d all landed themselves in Garrett’s debt to start with. They’d been provoked into a barroom brawl--off-base, no less--by an arrogant ass who’d mouthed off about their fallen friend. The incident could have held up their clearance papers indefinitely, but Garrett had found a way to push them through.

  His price, of course, had been the favors.

  Payne released a small breath. Which was why he now found himself packed and ready to go to Gettysburg in search of a freaking pocket watch Garrett a.) only thought existed and b.) apparently wanted bad enough to send him to get it. Civil war buff, hell--the man was obsessed.

  And he was a former Ranger, not an errand boy, but his word was his word. Growing up in an unstable home where he heard more lies than the truth, Payne valued honesty and structure above all else. Did he like Garrett’s request? No. But it didn’t change the fact that he owed him.

  Payne shouldered his hanging bag, grabbed his laptop case and turned to face Guy. “Call me if anything comes up.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Guy assured him. “Jamie and Audrey are flying in tomorrow.”

  Since Audrey’s season at Unwind--her de-stressing camp for burned out exec’s, harried mothers and the like--was officially over, she and Jamie were going to play snowbirds and head south for the winter. Or at least part of it, at any rate. Jamie would work here on-site until her season started again, then they’d head north once more. “I’ve offered them my loft for the week,” Payne told him.

  Guy closed the trunk. “Jamie told me. They’re going to go ahead and move their stuff into my place. A lot of Jamie’s things are still there, and they didn’t want to go through the hassle of moving downstairs once you got back. You’re fine with that, right?”

  Payne nodded, secretly relieved. Just as well, he supposed. Frankly, he preferred his privacy and, while he knew there was nothing in his loft he didn’t mind them seeing, he still wasn’t altogether comfortable having anyone in his space. Odd, he knew. He’d certainly shared more than an apartment with these guys over the years. Still...