Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers

by Piñeiro, Caridad

  A walk. That's what he needed. He'd explore some of the city and maybe clear his head in the process.

  He stormed out onto the street and glanced around, then started walking, no particular destination in mind. Block after block slid by as his long-legged pace carried him through the city. The air hung damply around him and the buildings disappeared into the fog above, but Frank hardly noticed. Time slipped by and before he knew it, the business section had turned residential and small apartment blocks lined the street he traveled.

  His fist clenched around a slip of paper he'd shoved into the pocket of his denim jacket. He tugged it out and examined the address he'd written earlier this afternoon.

  Angel's address.

  His focus flicked to the street sign and he saw a name he remembered from the map he'd reviewed earlier. Angel lived nearby. He flopped down onto a bench beside a bus stop, refusing to be drawn further into Angel's territory.

  Ah, hell, he hadn't meant to walk over here. His subconscious must have been hard at work. He sighed, knowing he had to meet with her sometime. But it didn't have to be tonight.

  The streetlights had already winked on and the city would soon be shrouded in darkness. He scanned the silhouettes of the buildings around him, their dark shapes blending with the grey sky behind.

  This quiet interlude was having the effect he'd been seeking all day. The turmoil of his thoughts drained away, allowing him the nearest thing to peace he'd experienced since seeing that she-devil last night. He watched the people pass by, the foot traffic growing sparse with the onset of darkness.

  His detective's senses went on alert when he saw a scruffy young fellow in torn jeans and a grubby denim jacket step out of an alley and skulk around. The hunch of his shoulders and the sly glance he shot at Frank, as though assessing him, made Frank suspicious. Criminals watched for people who looked like victims. Clearly deciding Frank would be trouble, the man shoved his hands in his pockets and plodded away.

  Frank sighed. The guy didn't know how wise his decision had been. Frank's anger simmered below the surface like an active volcano. A confrontation would be just the catalyst to force a violent eruption.

  He twisted his wrist to check his watch. It was getting late. He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up.

  * * *

  When Angel finally put aside her work that night, she was glad the day was over. After her meeting at FBI headquarters, she'd gone back to the office to find Carlos waiting for her with some last minute arrangements that needed quick action. At least the frantic phone calls had kept her mind off Frank and their nerve-wracking encounter this morning. She'd had no appetite so had nibbled some carrot and celery sticks for lunch. Going out for a run tonight would be a good idea. That would get her blood pumping and allow her to concentrate on how to handle her partnership with Frank.

  Darkness had claimed the city by the time she left the office, but she knew the area well and could take care of herself. Her bus came along within a few moments and she slumped into a seat, allowing her thoughts to wander. Too soon they zeroed in on her problem.

  Frank.

  Whatever cover he assumed, they would have to keep their contact to a minimum. It was the only way. Judging by Frank's reaction to her this morning, he would feel the same way. True, he was a professional and would come to terms with the fact she'd done what she had to do, but that didn't mean he'd embrace the thought of working with her. She mulled that over, wondering if it would be possible to keep their contact to phone calls alone. After all, it wasn't like he'd actually go under cover with her.

  The steady vibration of the bus lulled her and she found her thoughts drifting back to the first time she'd met Frank. In Hawaii, that beautiful island in the sun. The first vacation she'd ever had. It hadn't been a real vacation, but her boss had given her time to herself while he went to meetings. During that time she'd allowed herself to forget who and what she was and just enjoy herself. Frank had been staying a few cabins down from her and she'd seen him on the beach several times from her window.

  That day she couldn't stop staring at him. She was sprawled on the beach sunbathing, watching him over the tops of her sunglasses as he came out of his cabin and sauntered down to the beach. He pulled off his loose white T-shirt to reveal broad shoulders and curly hair liberally sprinkled across his muscular chest and stomach. As he stood there, tall and tanned and nearly naked, wearing only a pair of black swimming trunks, her breath caught in her throat. Lord, she never realized a man could be so…spell binding…before.

  She lost sight of him for a while when he raced into the surf for a swim, but soon he returned, an eye-catching sight, glittering in the sunlight with beads of water dripping down his sun-bronzed skin. She watched in awe as he patted dry every last inch of exposed skin. Strands of hair wisped down into his eyes and he shoved back the errant locks with a stroke of his towel. Water continued to drip from his hair, and she found herself watching one drop slide down his chest, over his stomach, and down into his bathing suit. She could feel her breasts tightening in response to the erotic thoughts that churned through her head. What would it be like to follow that droplet with her tongue? She licked lips suddenly gone dry.

  As he started to move forward, she shifted her focus up to his face. She sucked in a breath as she realized he was moving toward her. Pushing her sunglasses tightly onto her face, she tried to act as if she hadn't just been gawking at him.

  "Excuse me, ma'am, but did you know…" he started and just then she felt cold sea water lapping at her toes and jumped up, clutching the towel to her chest like a shield, afraid her swollen nipples would clearly show the affect he had on her.

  Obviously, he'd come over to warn her that she was about to be caught by the tide. She stammered a thank you as she slipped on her sandals and grabbed her bag, then raced off towards her cabin, too embarrassed to stay and chat. Glancing around, she saw that he followed her at an easy gait, but she kept on going. When she stopped to unlock her cabin door, he caught up with her.

  "Here, I think you forgot this," he said, holding up a bright red, under-wired bikini top that looked suspiciously like hers.

  "I… Oh." Her top had been undone while she'd tanned so there'd be no strap mark. When she'd jumped up, it must have fallen to the ground. She pulled the towel more tightly to her body. What a great first impression. There she stood in front of a virtual stranger, wearing only a towel and a bikini bottom. She was sure her face turned as red as the top he held out to her.

  He eyed the cups with a mischievous half grin, so she snatched the top away from him. She couldn't help it if she was a little top heavy. He made no comment but she hadn't failed to see the glint in his eye.

  The next thing she knew, he'd asked her to dinner.

  She was never quite sure why she'd accepted his invitation, but something had drawn her to him. During their three weeks together she'd found that not only was he gorgeous, but warm and sensitive, with a great sense of humour—a combination she found irresistible. She'd known by the way he smiled at her, by the tender looks he gave her, by his gentle touches and softly spoken words, that he was falling in love with her. And she'd done nothing to discourage him.

  "Fool! You should have known better than to let him get to you," she murmured under her breath.

  The bus pulled up to her stop and she stepped off, turning her collar against the drizzling rain. Her umbrella mushroomed over her head, blocking out the glare of the streetlights, while her boots splashed against the slick, shiny pavement as she trotted down the street and turned onto a quiet lane heading towards her home. The moon cast a vague light through the clouds, the only illumination on this lonely street.

  Soon the splish splash of her footfalls were joined by the sound of a rhythmic clicking of heels against pavement. One pair. She stepped a little quicker, trying to shorten the distance between herself and her home. Her breath now came in short little puffs, straining her lungs. She chanced a quick glance around, cursing h
erself when she caught her heel in a grate, almost losing her balance. She had a vague impression of a man in a denim jacket and jeans less than a block behind her.

  The sound of his footfalls came closer together. He was speeding up! Oh, God, this is real. This guy's after me! True, she was trained in self-defense, but these guys didn't play fair. Hand to hand combat didn't go far against an armed assailant.

  The saplings that lined the street, rustling in the breeze, sounded like snickering witnesses to her silent ordeal. She forced her legs to move faster. She could barely catch her breath. The stranger was closing the distance between them. Despite the cool nip of the air, she felt perspiration forge a path between her breasts. Her duplex beckoned, the front light reaching out to her.

  She fingered the keys in her pocket. That was a precaution she always took, putting her keys where she had quick access. Frantically, she calculated the time it would take to thrust the key in the lock, rip open the door, fling herself inside, and lock the door behind her. Too long! She had to put more distance between them. She snapped her umbrella snapped closed and sprinted the final distance.

  Stumbling up the steps to the porch, she grasped blindly at the railing, pulling herself onward towards the safe haven. The keys were in her hand and she jabbed them towards her target in an arrow thrust of desperation. A hand grabbed her arm and she gasped. She heard his harsh breathing as he spun her around. Striking out blindly she sent him sprawling back onto the ground. The keys met their mark and turned. Victory was hers!

  "Angel, wait!"

  She froze, the door almost closed behind her.

  "Frank?"

  He got up and brushed off his jeans. Approaching her, cautiously now, an uncertain expression crossed his face.

  "Frank! What the hell were you trying to do?"

  "I saw you get off the bus alone. There are some pretty seedy characters around here, so I thought I'd follow along and make sure you got home all right. When you started to run I figured something must have frightened you."

  "You thought…? Something must have…?"

  Her fingers clenched in anger and she swung at him. He grabbed her wrist in mid-thrust, preventing her fist from connecting with his jaw.

  "Damn you. Next time, think again!" She shook with anger as she tried to snatch her arm out of his grasp.

  He glared at her. If looks could kill she was certain she'd be so many cinders on the ground right now.

  "Excuse me, Miss High-and-Mighty. I thought I was doing you a favour."

  "I don't need favours, from you or anyone else, Mr. O'Connor!"

  He tugged her toward him by the wrist he still gripped tightly. She was closer than she wanted to be. Too close for comfort. The heat emanating from his body waged a war with the cool indifference she sought to maintain.

  "Maybe not." His voice was a low growl. "But you're going to be my partner and I'll need you in one piece."

  The words—or was it the way his breath whispered around her ears?—sent shivers down her back. He loosened his hold and she wrenched away from him.

  "Ask me in, Angel."

  She pulled back, concentrating on regaining her composure.

  "Why would I do that?"

  "Because I need to talk to you. Dennis and Hal decided what my cover will be."

  She hesitated for only a moment. She desperately wanted to close the door, to shut him out of her house and her life. But this was her job.

  "I guess I have no choice."

  "You're right there."

  Why did he sound so damned smug? She didn't like it. Not one bit. Still, she led him into her home. She flipped on the light and propped her umbrella in the corner of the small entranceway. As she leaned over to tug off her boots, she was all too conscious of Frank standing behind her, slipping off his own shoes. When she stood, popping open the buttons of her coat, her elbow brushed against him. She spun around. He leaned against the wall, his eyes focused on her hands, watching each button release in turn.

  "Why don't you go ahead in?" she suggested.

  "Nervous?"

  His lips revealed his teeth in a feral grin. He may be smiling, but it doesn't reach the frigid blue of his eyes.

  "What do have I to be nervous about?"

  "Absolutely nothing."

  That amused grin stayed maddeningly in place. His hands came up and reached towards her. She flinched back, remembering the overpowering kisses he'd inflicted on her in Hal's office. One hand came to rest on her shoulder and he firmly turned her around, then slipped her coat off her shoulders.

  "What kind of gentleman would I be not to help a lady off with her coat?"

  Had she only imagined the slight emphasis on the word lady? She watched, eyes narrowed, wondering what he was up to, as he hung her coat in the closet.

  "I didn't think chivalry was high on your priority list, Frank. At least around me."

  "I'm just trying to set the mood. I've got an important question to ask you."

  "What kind of question? I thought you were here to discuss your cover." She didn't like how this was going.

  "You're getting nervous again."

  He exerted pressure just above her shoulder blades, pressing her into the living room. As they stepped into the room, she breathed in the sweet fragrance of red roses. Her gaze brushed over the dozen red, long-stemmed beauties Carlos had sent her for her birthday. The blooms were fully open and a petal gently fluttered to the table as she watched, joining several that had dropped since this morning.

  "Sit down, Angel."

  She steered away from the couch he aimed her at to sit in one of the two armchairs, folding her hands tightly in her lap, glaring at him.

  She watched as Frank's gaze settled on the vase of roses displayed prominently on the glass-top coffee table. He raised his eyebrows. "An admirer?"

  "They're from a friend." She glanced at his sour expression. "For my birthday," she added as an afterthought, though it was really none of his business.

  "A dozen red roses. An expensive gift from a friend."

  His emphasis on the word friend annoyed her, but she said nothing.

  "Actually, pink are my favourite."

  Her gaze dropped to the table and the petals that had settled there. She would have to throw them out soon, she thought regretfully. Too bad. It wasn't often she received flowers.

  "So, what is this important question you have to ask me?"

  Instead of sitting down on the couch as she thought he'd do, he crouched down on his haunches in front of her, wearing an expression of supreme satisfaction that pricked at her self confidence. Frank leaned forward and took her hands firmly in his own. He captured her gaze and drew her forward, a wicked gleam in his eyes. She wondered if he meant to kiss her and felt her eyelids droop as she nibbled her lower lip. His gaze dropped to her lips, then raised to her eyes. Amusement glittered in the blue depths of his own.

  "I just wanted to ask you this, Angel." His voice was a fluid murmur, like a brook rippling through quiet woods. "Will you marry me?"

  In Too Deep: Chapter Four

  "What?" Angel cried, her eyes widening. She snatched her hands out of his grasp. "Are you crazy?"

  His smile broadened. "Don't worry, Angel. I'm just talking about our cover."

  Our cover. Oh, God, how had she ever gotten into this mess?

  "No… You can't really mean… Hal approved this?"

  "Why not? It's the most logical course. This way, we'll be able to share information easily. The fact that you're already established will help me get in." He raised his eyebrows. "Unless Vendetti has some policy against couples working together."

  "No, he doesn't care," she responded reluctantly.

  "Good."

  He stood up and went over to settle in the chair across from her, the denim of his jacket out of place on the deep rose velveteen.

  "But marriage, Frank? You and I? No one will believe it."

  "Why not? You're a very good actress, Angel. We've already established that.
"

  His sarcastic words stung. She glanced up to see his grim stare fixed on her. Her chest tightened painfully as she remembered the old days when fiery sparks would infuse that frigid blue with melting heat. The days of joy they'd shared. The days of love. The most wonderful days of her life.

  She took a deep breath, banishing the memories away into the dark recesses of her mind. Those days were gone. "I would think the problem is how you'll act the part of my lover."

  "Your lover? I'm sure I could play that part very well." His voice was like cool silk caressing her skin.

  She rubbed her arms to rid herself of the goose bumps. "I meant…. You know what I meant. You can't stand me."

  He stepped forward, towering over her. She shifted in her chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He crouched down and put a hand on each arm of her chair, leaning toward her.

  "But I can act, too, Angel. Do you want me to show you?" His voice was soft, persuasive.

  She narrowed her eyes, wondering what game he was playing. "No." She shook her head in emphasis.

  "But you've called my abilities into question. Now I'll have to prove myself."

  Before she knew what was happening, he pulled her to her feet. His arms slid around her and he drew her body against his own.

  Too many sensations hit her all at once. His hard chest pressed against her soft breasts. His arms firm and secure around her. The scent of his crisp aftershave reminding her of other times when he'd held her in his arms.

  One of his hands slid up her back and his fingers entwined in her hair, cupping the back of her head. Slowly, he eased her face toward his, holding her entranced with his eyes—his melting hot, frigid blue eyes. He wanted her, but he didn't love her. He didn't even like her. He blamed her for his pain. And it was knowing that, knowing how much she'd hurt him, that stopped her from pushing him away. Guilt lay a heavy burden on her heart.