Undaunted

by Joss Wood

  Knox glanced over Reagan’s shoulder to see how much attention Coe was paying to their conversation. The little boy was looking out of the window, fascinated by the massive Newfoundland mix dog-horse lying across the doorway to the bakery. Flick’s dog, Reagan remembered, but she couldn’t remember its name. Nobody, Reagan noticed with amusement, bothered to ask the dog to move but just stepped over him to access the bakery.

  Ah, to have that much power over a town.

  “When you suggested that we relocate to Mercy, you said that a stranger would stand out here, that the townsfolk would immediately notice someone who didn’t belong,” Knox stated, pulling his ball cap off his head before replacing it again. “That we can use them as our eyes and ears. They can’t do that unless they know I’m here,” Knox added with infuriating logic.

  Reagan blew out her breath and looked at Knox’s gorgeous profile. They could hide out here, keeping to the estate, and it would take a while for anyone to find him. Telling the world where he was risky but it would lead to a quicker resolution, especially if the UNSUB tried again. It would take someone with a lot of guts, and even more skill, to take on Cas operatives. He would make a mistake and get caught, and that was the only reason Reagan agreed to his plan.

  Whether her bosses would agree with her was still to be determined.

  Bryn met her eyes and shrugged.

  “It’s a town fueled by gossip,” Reagan warned. “You will be bombarded with people wanting to meet you and who’ll want your autograph or to take a selfie.”

  Knox laughed and put his hand on the door handle. “Oh, right! Because people leave me alone everywhere else?” He opened the door, jumped down from the vehicle, and Reagan scrambled to keep up. She ran around the car and glared at Knox, who had his hand on his hips and was looking around.

  “Will you please allow me to get out first and assess the situation before you exit the vehicle?” she demanded, frustrated.

  Knox didn’t look remotely chagrined. “Oh, relax, blondie. This is Mercy and nobody knows I’m here . . . yet.”

  Reagan glared up at him. “You do know that if my bosses were watching, I could be fired for that?”

  “Okay, point taken. But hell, what a kick-ass little town.” Knox looked down the street, and through the red and gold leaves of the trees on the opposite side of the road, they could see blue water. “Is that a river?”

  “Yeah, it winds through the town. There are pretty biking and running paths along its banks.” Reagan raised her hand when he looked excited. “Nope. Don’t even ask, you will not be exercising there.”

  Knox grinned at her and lifted a sandy eyebrow. God, he was a good-looking man. “Bet I will.”

  Reagan ignored his comment and gestured him toward the bakery. “Can we get you inside please?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Reagan shook her head as she followed Knox around the car. Bryn was lifting Coe out of his car seat, and as soon as his feet hit the floor he belted over to the dog, ignoring his father’s frantic yell. Reagan put her hand on Knox’s arm when he started after Coe, shaking her head. “The dog is big but I know him, he’s a sweetie. Coe will be fine.”

  They watched as Coe sat on his haunches next to his head and ran a gentle hand over the dog’s massive ears. A big eye opened and the dog sighed and slowly moved into a sitting position, its enormous head above Coe’s.

  Reagan smiled when she saw Flick approach the doorway, her dark hair in a messy bun and tight jeans tucked into brown boots. Her cream jersey hit her hips and her elaborate scarf matched her blue-green eyes. Reagan walked toward the doorway and saw a small girl standing just behind Flick. Stopping a couple of yards from the door, she watched as Flick placed her hand on the dog’s head and looked at Coe.

  “Good morning, new person,” Flick said, smiling. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Coe Devin Callow,” Coe said, taking two seconds to look at Flick before returning his attention to the dog-horse.

  “He so wants a dog,” Knox said sotto voce, coming to a stop beside her.

  “That’s not a dog, it’s a freakin’ pony,” Bryn muttered. “Who is the sexy chick?”

  “My boss’s fiancée.” Reagan sent Bryn a warning glance. “Do not make a move on her. He will rip you a new one.”

  Bryn didn’t look remotely concerned.

  “Bryn will take that as a challenge,” Knox said, amused.

  Flick’s voice floated over to them. “Well, I’m Flick and that is Rufus.”

  “He’s pretty big,” Coe said, his eyes wide.

  “He’s just a big goofball. He’ll be your best friend forever if you rub his tummy.” Flick stepped back and Reagan saw a young child standing behind her. “This is Mel, my friend. Maybe you two can be friends too?”

  Coe tipped his head and, after looking at the little girl, shook his head. “Not sure about that ’cause she’s girl.”

  Flick’s mouth twitched with mirth. “Well, that’s a pity because Mel knows where I keep Rufus’s special cookies. If you were her friend she could show you where I keep them and then you could give him one. But if you don’t want to . . .”

  Coe looked from Rufus to Mel as if debating whether he could sacrifice his principles for a half hour or so. Eventually he nodded and followed the little girl into the bakery.

  “I’ll go with him,” Bryn stated, and walked up to the door, briefly introduced himself to Flick, and followed Coe into the bakery.

  Flick looked at Bryn’s broad back, and when she turned back to Reagan she winced. “Hi, sweetie. Sorry, I should’ve asked first.”

  Reagan ushered Knox inside the bakery, did a ten-second scan, and sighed when she saw her three bosses sitting at the corner table. Ignoring them, she focused her attention on Flick, who surprised her by giving her a quick hug and dropping a kiss on her cheek.

  “It’s so good to see you again,” Flick exclaimed before holding out her hand to Knox. She seemed totally unfazed that she was meeting one of the biggest celebs in the world. “I’m Flick. Welcome to Mercy and the Artsy Tartsy.”

  “Thanks,” Knox replied, shaking her hand.

  Conscious of the buzz in the bakery at their arrival, well, Knox’s arrival, Reagan pasted a smile on her face. “When did you expand?” she asked Flick, noticing that the bakery looked considerably bigger.

  “A few weeks back.” Flick answered her question. “We bought out the lease and expanded into what used to be the bookstore.”

  Reagan looked around and wrinkled her nose when she noticed the attention they were receiving, conscious that she was standing next to the hottest, and most talented, actor of his generation. And she was responsible for keeping him safe, and if she didn’t, she’d be vilified.

  “Let’s get you a table,” Flick said.

  Reagan noticed a least five phones pointed in their direction. Within ten minutes, the world would know exactly where Knox was. Shit.

  She looked over to the table where her bosses sat and saw three sets of accusing eyes, three non-smiling mouths. They were not happy with her.

  “Thanks, but I suppose I should introduce Knox to the unholy trio.”

  She really didn’t want to. In fact, she wanted to turn tail and run. Reagan folded her arms across her chest and rocked on her heels. She felt Axl’s eyes on her and her skin prickled. She’d spent most of the previous night, despite her mental and physical exhaustion, replaying their hot-as-hell kiss. He did something to her insides that was both annoying and addictive, as if the butterflies in her stomach had morphed into bats and they were tripping on some hallucinogenic drug.

  And, dammit, it didn’t help that he was so very good looking. Oh, he wasn’t movie-star hot like Knox, but Axl was a real type of hot, a rugged sexy. His nose was slightly off kilter and a scar bisected his eyebrow. He had another under his jaw and fine lines around those amazing gray eyes, fr
inged with black lashes. Reagan lifted her head and their gazes slammed together, and today those eyes were campfire-smoke gray.

  He was exactly the type of man she shouldn’t be attracted to and she couldn’t understand why she was. She’d lived with two warrior-like men, men who were strong and determined and super confident. Distant and restrained. That self-confidence bred arrogance and a belief that they knew best, that it was their way or the highway.

  There was, according to men like her father and Axl, only one way to skin a cat.

  Reagan licked her lips as Axl pushed his chair back and stood up, snapping something in Kai and Sawyer’s direction. Reagan watched his progress toward them. Today he was dressed in solid black: cargo pants, a black crewneck jersey, and high-tech combat boots. She couldn’t see a weapon. When they were in Mercy, none of the partners carried one, but he didn’t need one to look like the very big badass he was.

  When he reached them, Axl shoved his hand in Knox’s direction, briefly introduced himself, and not giving Knox a second to speak, nodded to Kai and Sawyer. “Join us. Kai will move so that you can sit against the wall. I’m just going to borrow Reagan for a minute.”

  Knox flicked a look from her to Axl and back again, bemused. “Okay.”

  Coe, trailed by Bryn and Flick’s cousin Pippa, walked back into the bakery from the kitchen beyond. Reagan felt Axl’s big hand envelop hers and she felt him tug her toward the door but she planted her feet and scowled at him, resisting his silent order.

  Reagan looked at Coe, who was shoving an oversized cookie into his mouth. His other hand held a couple of dog biscuits for Rufus. He rapidly swallowed his mouthful of cookie when he saw Axl.

  Coe approached them and looked up at Axl, bright blue eyes curious. “You look grumpy! Are you hungry? Daddy says I get grumpy when I’m hungry.” Coe held up his half-eaten cookie to Axl. “Have a bite of my cookie and you won’t be so hungry anymore.”

  God, she loved this kid. Reagan bit her bottom lip, hoping that Axl wouldn’t brush off Coe’s generous offer. To his credit, Axl took the cookie from the little boy and took a bite.

  “Yum,” Axl said and took another bite. Reagan didn’t blame him. Flick’s cookies were pure magic.

  “You can finish it,” Coe told him. “Mr. Mo gave me two more. I put them in pocket. Mr. Mo makes the best cookies.” Coe grabbed Mel’s shirt and pulled her toward Axl. The little girl ducked her head and stared at her shoes. “This is Mel and she’s my friend. I know she’s a girl but she likes soccer so I ’spose it’s okay to be friends with her. She likes Dora but we won’t hold that against her.”

  Axl’s eyes danced with laughter although his face remained impassive. “Hi, Mel.” He popped the rest of the much-handled cookie into his mouth and winked at Coe. When he’d finished eating he smiled at Coe and opened his hands. “You were right! Look, I’m not grumpy anymore.”

  “Told ya.” Coe looked down at the dog biscuits in his hands and Reagan followed his gaze to the front door. Rufus’s head was in the middle of the doorway and customers were trying to squeeze their way into the bakery. His eyes were on Coe’s hands.

  Flick clapped her hands. “Jeez, Ru, get out of the way. Coe, do you want to give Rufus the cookie before he slobbers all over the entrance to my bakery?”

  Bryn, who’d been standing behind the kids, started to follow Coe but Reagan shook her head. “I’ll go out with him, Axl as well. Hey, Pippa.”

  Pippa smiled and Reagan noticed that her red-brown hair was now streaked with bright blond and copper highlights and cut into a shoulder-length, messy style. She looked absolutely fabulous. Bryn, judging by the fact that he’d yet to take his eyes off her, thought the same.

  Pippa placed her hand on Flick’s back and Reagan felt a pang of envy. She’d never had a strong female friendship, had a friend she could laugh with, fight with, confide in. Moving from base to base and school to school as her father followed Army promotions didn’t lend itself to forming long-lasting relationships. Or any relationships. She’d carefully, brick by brick and rejection by rejection, constructed a wall to hide behind, somewhere where she was in control and emotions couldn’t touch her.

  But damn, it was a lonely place. But it was better to be lonely than to be hurt, Reagan reminded herself. You know this.

  “It’s good to see you, Reagan,” Pippa said.

  “It really is,” Flick agreed and clapped her hands. “We need to have lunch sometime, or drinks, just us girls.”

  “Oh, God,” Axl muttered. “Sounds like hell.”

  “You weren’t invited, Mr. Grumpy,” Flick cheerfully stated. She looked around, noticed that they were the center of attention and that service in the bakery had all but come to a halt. “Back to business. Coe and Mel, feed Rufus. Reagan and Axl, you’re with them. Knox, let’s get you seated and served. Bryn, you too. Pips, are you joining us?”

  And that, Reagan thought as she followed Axl outside, was how she whipped Kai into shape.

  ***

  After ushering the small people back into the bakery, Axl pulled out a chair from beneath a wrought-iron table on the sidewalk and watched as Reagan tunneled her fingers into her hair. His chair scraped as he pulled it away from the table. Axl sat down and caught her delicious scent on the cool autumn breeze. God, he wished he could pull her shades off her face. He needed to see her eyes. Reagan had yet to master the art of concealing her emotions from him.

  “Reagan, we need to clear the air,” Axl stated, his voice calm.

  Because he felt a little exposed, Axl pulled his own shades from the top of his head and slapped them over his eyes. He didn’t think she could read his emotions but why take the chance?

  Right, Sawyer and Kai wanted him to resolve this conflict between them and that was why they were out here. How to do that?

  Let’s go to bed and bang this out of our systems? He didn’t think that would work.

  “Are you going to apologize for kissing me?” Reagan demanded.

  Yeah, no. He hadn’t apologized for kissing an attractive woman since he was . . . Actually, he’d never apologized. What was the point? “Why would I do that? It was a great kiss.”

  Reagan leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

  “You could tell me you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

  “Your ego doesn’t need any help from me.”

  Axl smiled. God, he loved her sharp brain.

  “You shouldn’t have kissed me,” Reagan stated, her tone harder and ten degrees cooler. “I work for you.”

  Oh, hell no, he wasn’t letting her get away with that. “You work for Sawyer, as you keep telling me. And we’re adults, we can separate work from pleasure,” Axl continued.

  “If that’s true, then why don’t you treat me like you do all the other PPOs?” Reagan demanded.

  Crap. Did he say that he liked her sharp brain? He really didn’t, especially when her words painted him into a corner. Axl acknowledged her verbal hit with a jerk of his head. “Touché. In my defense, I don’t know the other PPOs but I do know you. I’ve known you for half your life and I don’t like you putting yourself in dangerous situations.” He lifted a hand to silence her instinctive retort. “That’s not news to you, Reagan, I’ve never liked the idea of you working for Cas.”

  “But why?” Reagan demanded, leaning forward. “I’m good at what I do, Axl. I have acquired all the skills required, I excel at many of them!”

  How did he explain that, from the moment she signed her employment contract with Caswallawn, he felt uneasy? That the low-grade uneasiness was building into full-time worry and could, at any moment, morph into flat-out panic?

  That he was either feeling freaked out or turned on and that he didn’t like either feeling? And his friends wanted him to resolve their issues? How the hell was he supposed to do that when he had all this ment
al shit to deal with?

  Axl rubbed his jaw in frustration. “I don’t like you working for Cas because a) I don’t want you to get hurt, ever, and b), because I think you joined Cas for the wrong reasons.”

  And, crap, he hadn’t meant to say that. Dammit, what the hell was wrong with him? Spec Ops skill his ass, he couldn’t even keep his mouth shut. He tried to skip over that statement by distracting her. “Why did Callow leave the car before you? You can’t protect your principal if you are on the other side of the—”

  Reagan locked her fingers around his wrist and squeezed. “You’re trying to distract me and it’s not going to work. What do you mean by that?”

  “You were on one side of the car—”

  Reagan pinched his skin on his wrist. Okay, so she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Well, maybe it was time that she heard this.

  “You try too hard, Reagan. You are constantly trying to prove yourself, to show yourself, or us, that you are up to the task.”

  “I do not,” Reagan protested.

  “If there’s a training run, you’ll kill yourself to match or better your previous time. If there’s a report due, you put it in a week before it’s due. You’re brave, I readily admit that, but sometimes in your quest to be seen as super competent, you overreach. If you were a hundred percent sure of your abilities, then you wouldn’t be trying so hard, you wouldn’t care what we thought because you’d back yourself every time. You don’t back yourself and you don’t trust yourself. Because you don’t trust yourself, you can’t trust anyone else, and that was the real reason you wanted to do a final check last night.”

  Reagan looked like he’d punched her in the gut. Axl understood; it was hard to face an unpleasant truth about yourself. It didn’t surprise him when Reagan immediately went on the offensive. “How dare you say that? You don’t even know me!”

  Here was his opening, the way to repair their relationship, to do as his friends asked him. “I want to.”

  And he spoke the truth. He did want to get to know the woman behind the wall. He and Reagan hadn’t spent much time together since Mike’s funeral, and what he knew about her was, mostly, secondhand knowledge gathered through Kai and Sawyer or from Mike, when he was alive.