Her Kind of Hero (14 page)

The silence behind her was arctic. “Would you like to explain that question?”

“In ancient times, when they wanted to catch a lion, they tethered a live kid goat to a post and baited him with it. If the goat lived, they turned him loose, but if the lion got him, it didn't really matter. I mean, what's a goat more or less?”

Micah had never felt so many conflicting emotions at the same time. Foremost of them was shame. “You heard me talking to Bojo?”

She nodded.

His indrawn breath was the only sound in the room. “Callie,” he began, without knowing what he could say to repair the damage.

“It's okay,” she said to the picture window. “I never had any illusions about where I fit in your family. I still don't.”

His teeth ground together. Why should it be so painful to hear her say that? She was the interloper. She and her horrible mother had destroyed his relationship with his own father. He was alone because of her, so why should he feel guilty? But he
did. He felt guilty and ashamed. He hadn't really meant everything he'd said to Bojo. Somewhere there was a vague jealousy of the easy friendship she had with his right-hand man, with the tenderness she gave Bojo, when she fought Micah tooth and nail.

“I'll do whatever you want me to,” she said after a minute. “But I want a gun, and I want to learn how to use it.” She stood up and turned to face him, defiant in the shark-themed white T-shirt and blue jeans she'd changed into. “Because if Lopez gets me this time, he's getting a dead woman. I'll never go through that again.”

Micah actually winced. “He's not getting you,” he said curtly.

“Better me than Dad,” she said with a cold smile. “Right?”

He slammed the door and walked toward her. She didn't even try to back up. She glared at him from a face that was tight with grief and misery, the tracks of tears still visible down her cheeks.

“Do you actually think I'd let him take you, even to save Dad?” he demanded furiously. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

“I have no idea,” she said honestly. “You're a stranger. You always have been.”

He searched her blue eyes with irritation and impatience. “You're a prime example of the reason I prefer mercenary women,” he said without thinking. “You're nothing but a pain in the neck.”

“Thank you. I love compliments.”

“You probably thrive on insults,” he bit off. Then he remembered how she'd had to live all those years, and could have slapped himself for taunting her.

“If they're all you ever hear, you get used to them,” she
agreed without rancor. “I'm tough. I've had to be. So do your worst, Micah,” she added. “Tie me to a palm tree and wait in ambush for Lopez to shoot at me, I don't care.”

But she did care. There was real pain in those blue eyes, which she was trying so valiantly to disguise with sarcasm. It hurt her that Micah would use her to draw Lopez in. That led him to the question of why it hurt her. And when he saw that answer in her eyes, he could have gone through the floor with shame.

She…loved him. He felt his heart stop and then start again as the thought went through him like electricity. She almost certainly loved him, and she was doing everything in her power to keep him from seeing it. He remembered her arms around him, her mouth surrendering to his, her body fluid and soft under his hands as she yielded instantly to his ardor. A woman with her past would have a hard time with lovemaking, yet she'd been willing to let him do anything he liked to her. Why hadn't he questioned that soft yielding? Why hadn't he known? And she'd heard what he said to Bojo, feeling that way…

“I swear to you, I won't let Lopez get you,” he said in a firm, sincere tone.

“You mean, you'll try,” she replied dully. “I want a gun, Micah.”

“Over my dead body,” he said harshly. “You're not committing suicide.”

Her lower lip trembled. She felt trapped. She looked trapped.

That expression ignited him like fireworks. He jerked her into his tall, powerful body, and bent to her mouth before she realized his intent. His warm, hard mouth bit into her lips with
ardent insistence as his arms enveloped her completely against him. He felt his body swell instantly, as it always did when he touched her. He groaned against her mouth and deepened the kiss, lost in the wonder of being loved…

Dizzily he registered that she was making a halfhearted effort to push him away. He felt her cold, nervous hands on his chest. He lifted his head and looked at her wary, uncertain little face.

“I won't hurt you,” he said softly.

“You're angry,” she choked. “It's a punishment…”

“I'm not and it isn't.” He bent again, and kissed her eyelids. His hands worked their way up into the thickness of her hair and then down her back, slowly pressing her to him.

She shivered at the feel of him against her hips.

He chuckled at that telltale sign. “Most men would kill to have such an immediate response to a woman. But I don't suppose you know that.”

“You shouldn't…”

He lifted his head again and gave her a look full of amused worldly wisdom. “You think I can will it not to happen, I guess?”

She flushed.

“Sorry, honey, but it doesn't work that way.” He moved away just enough to spare her blushes, but his hands slid to her waist and held her in front of him. “I want you to stay in the house,” he said, as if he hadn't done anything outrageous at all. “Stay away from windows and porches, too.”

She searched his eyes. “If Lopez doesn't see me,” she began.

“He knows you're here,” he said with faint distaste. “I don't want him to know exactly where you are. I'll have men on every corner of the property and the house for the duration. I won't let you be captured.”

She leaned her forehead against him, shivering. “You can't imagine…how it was,” she said huskily.

His arms tightened, holding her close. He cursed himself for ever having thought of putting her deliberately in the line of fire. He couldn't imagine he'd been that callous, even briefly. It had been the logical thing to do, and he'd never let emotion get in the way of work. But Callie wasn't like him. She had feelings that were easily bruised, and he'd done a lot of damage already. Those nightmares she had should have convinced him how traumatic her captivity had been, but he hadn't even taken that into consideration when he was setting up Lopez by bringing Callie here.

“I'm sorry,” he bit off the words. He wondered if she knew how hard it was to say that.

She blinked away sudden tears. “It's not your fault, you're just trying to save Dad. I love Dad, too, Micah,” she said at his chest. “I don't blame you for doing everything you can to keep him safe.”

His eyes closed and he groaned silently. “I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe, too,” he told her.

She shrugged. “I know.” She pulled away from him with a faint smile to soften the rejection. “Thanks.”

He studied her face and realized that he'd never really looked at her so closely before. She had a tiny line of freckles just over her straight little nose. Her light blue eyes had flecks of dark blue in them and she had the faintest little dimple in her cheek when she smiled. He touched her pretty mouth with his fingertips. It was slightly swollen from the hungry, insistent pressure of his lips. She looked rumpled from his ardor, and he liked that, too.

“Take a picture,” she said uncomfortably.

“You're pretty,” he murmured with an odd smile.

“I'm not, and stop trying to flatter me,” she replied, shifting away from him.

“It isn't flattery.” He bent and brushed his mouth lightly over her parted lips. She gasped and hung there, her eyes wide and vulnerable on his face when he drew back. Her reaction made him feel taller. He smiled softly. “You don't give an inch, do you? I suppose it's hard for you to trust anyone, after the life you've led.”

“I trust Dad,” she snapped.

“Yes, but you don't trust me, do you?”

“Not an inch,” she agreed, pulling away. “And you don't have to kiss me to make me feel better, either.”

“It was to make me feel better,” he pointed out, smiling at her surprise. “It did, too.”

She shifted her posture a little, confused.

His dark eyes slid over her body, noting the little points that punctuated her breasts and the unsteady breathing she couldn't control. Yes, she wanted him.

She folded her arms over her breasts, curious about why he was staring at them. They felt uncomfortable, but she didn't know why.

“I didn't tell Lisse that you were an embarrassment to me,” he said suddenly, and watched her face color.

“It's okay,” she replied tersely. “I know I don't have good dress sense. I don't care about clothes most of the time.”

“I'm used to women who do, and who enjoy letting men pay for them. The more expensive they are, the better.” He sounded jaded and bitter.

She studied his hard face, recognizing disillusionment and
reticence. She moved a step closer involuntarily. “You sound…I don't know…cheated, maybe.”

“I feel cheated,” he said shortly. His eyes were full of harsh memories. “No man likes to think that he's paying for sex.”

“Then why do you choose women who want expensive gifts from you?” she asked him bluntly.

His teeth met. “I don't know.”

“Don't you, really?” she asked, her eyes soft and curious. “You've always said you don't want to get married, so you pick women who don't want to, either. But that sort of woman only lasts as long as the money does. Or am I wrong?”

He looked down at her from his great height with narrowed eyes and wounded pride. “I suppose you're one of those women who would rush right over to a penniless man and offer to get a second job to help him out of debt!”

She smiled sheepishly, ignoring the sarcasm. “I guess I am.” She shrugged. “I scare men off. They don't want me because I'm not interested in what sort of car they drive or the expensive places they can afford to take me to. I like to go walking in the country and pick wildflowers.” She peered up at him with a mischievous smile. “The last man I said that to left town two days before he was supposed to. He was doing some accounts for Mr. Kemp and he left skid marks. Mr. Kemp thought it was hilarious. He was a notorious ladies' man, it seems, and he'd actually seduced Mr. Kemp's last secretary.”

Micah didn't smile, as she'd expected him to. He looked angry.

She held up a hand. “I don't have designs on you, honest. I know you don't like wildflowers and Lisse is your sort of woman. I'm not interested in you that way, anyhow.”

“Considering the way you just kissed me, you might have trouble proving that,” he commented dryly.

She cleared her throat. “You kiss very nicely, and I have to get experience where I can.”

“Is that it?” he asked dubiously.

She nodded enthusiastically. She swallowed again as the terror of the last hour came back and the eyes she lifted to his were suddenly haunted. “Micah, he's never going to stop, is he?”

“Probably not, unless he has help.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I have every intention of helping him, once I've spoken with the authorities.”

“What authorities?”

“Never mind. You know nothing. Got it?”

She saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

He made a face. “Come on out. We'll have Mac make some sandwiches and coffee. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.”

“I could eat something.”

He hesitated before he opened her door. “I really meant what I told you,” he said. “Lopez won't get within fifty yards of you as long as there's a breath in my body.”

“Thanks,” she said unsteadily.

He felt cold inside. He couldn't imagine what had made him tell such lies to Bojo, where she might overhear him. He hadn't meant it, that was honest, but he knew she thought he had. She didn't trust him anymore.

He opened the door to let her go through first. A whiff of the soft rose fragrance she wore drifted up into his nostrils and made his heart jump. She always smelled sweet, and she had a loving nature that was miraculous considering her past. She gave
with both hands. He thought of her with Bojo and something snapped inside him.

“Bojo's off limits,” he said as she slid past him. “So don't get too attached to him!”

She looked up at him. “What a bunch of sour grapes,” she accused, “just because I withdrew my proposal of marriage to you!” She stalked off down the hall.

He opened his mouth to speak, and just laughed instead.

T
hey ate lunch, but conversation among the mercenaries was subdued and Callie got curious glances from all of them. One man, the Mexican called Rodrigo, gave her more scrutiny than the rest. He was a handsome man, tall, slender, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a grace of movement that reminded her of Micah. But he had a brooding look about him, and he seemed to be always watching her. Once, he smiled, but Micah's appearance sent him away before he could speak to her.

After lunch, Callie asked Bojo about him.

“Rodrigo lost his sister to Lopez's vicious temper,” he told her. “She was a nightclub singer who Lopez took a fancy to. He forced himself on her after she rejected Lopez's advances and…She died trying to get away from him. Rodrigo knows what was done to you, and he's angry. You remind him of his sister. She, too, had blue eyes.”

“But he's Latin,” she began.

“His father was from Denmark,” he said with a grin. “And blond.”

“Imagine that!”

He gave her a wry glance. “He likes you,” he said. “But he isn't willing to risk Micah's temper to approach you.”

“You do,” she said without thinking.

“Ah, but I am indispensable,” he told her. “Rodrigo is not. He has enemies in many countries overseas and also, Lopez has a contract out on him. This is the only place he has left to go where he has any hope of survival. He wouldn't dare risk alienating Micah.”

She frowned. “I can't think why approaching me would do that. Micah tolerates me, but he still doesn't really like me,” she pointed out. “I overheard what he said to you, about using me as bait.”

He smiled. “Yes. Curious, is it not, that when one of the other men suggested the same thing, he paid a trip to the dentist?” “Why?”

“Micah knocked out one of his teeth,” he confided. “The men agreed that no one would make the suggestion twice.”

She caught her breath. “But I heard him tell you that very thing…!”

“You heard what he wanted me to think,” he continued. “Micah is jealous of me,” he added outrageously, and grinned. “You and I are friendly and we have no hostility between us. You don't want anything from me, you see, or from him. He has no idea how to deal with such a woman. He has become used to buying expensive things at a woman's whim, yet you refuse even the gift of a few items of necessary clothing.” He shrugged. “It is new for him that neither his good looks nor his wealth make an impression on you. I think he finds that a challenge and it irritates him. He is also very private about his affairs. He doesn't
want the men to see how vulnerable he is where you are concerned,” he mused. “He had to assign me, along with Peter and Rodrigo, to keep a constant eye on you. He didn't like that. Peter and Rodrigo are no threat, of course, but he is afraid that you are attracted to me.” He grinned at her surprise. “I can understand why he thinks this. I hardly need elaborate on my attributes. I am urbane, handsome, sophisticated, generous…” He paused to glance at her wide-eyed, bemused face. “Shall I continue? I should hate to miss acquainting you with any of my virtues.”

She realized he was teasing then, and she chuckled. “Okay, go ahead, but I'm not making you any marriage proposals.”

His eyebrows arched. “Why not?”

“Micah's put me off men,” she said, tongue-in-cheek. “He's already upset because I won't propose to him.” She gave him a wicked grin. “Gosh, first Micah, then you! Having this much sex appeal is a curse. Even Lopez is mad to have me!”

He grinned back. She was a unique woman, he thought, and bristling with courage and character. He wondered why Micah didn't see her as he did. The other man was alternately scathing about and protective of Callie, as if his feelings were too ambiguous to unravel. He didn't like Bojo spending time with her, but he kept her carefully at arm's length, even dragging Lisse over for the shopping trip and using her as camouflage. Callie didn't know, but Lisse had been a footnote in Micah's life even in the days when he was attracted to her. She hadn't been around much for almost a year now.

“After we deal with Lopez, you must play down your attractions,” he teased. “Providing twenty-four-hour protection is wearing on the nerves.”

“You're not kidding,” she agreed, wandering farther down
the beach. “I'm getting paranoid about dark corners. I always expect someone to be lurking in them.” She glanced up at him. “Not rejected suitors,” she added wryly.

He clasped his hands behind him and followed along with her, his keen eyes on the horizon, down the beach, up the beach—everywhere. Bojo was certain, as Micah was, that Lopez wasn't likely to give them time to attack him. He was going to storm the island, and soon. They had to be constantly vigilant, if they wanted to live.

“Do you know any self-defense?” Bojo asked her curiously.

“I know a little,” she replied. “I took a course in it, but I was overpowered too fast.”

“Show me what you know,” he said abruptly. “And I will teach you a little more. It never hurts to be prepared.

She did, and he did. She learned enough to protect herself if she had time to use it. She didn't tell him, but she was really scared that Lopez might snatch her out of sight and sound of the mercs. She prayed that she'd have a fighting chance if she was in danger again.

 

Callie had convinced herself that an attack would come like a wave, with a lot of men and guns. The last thing she expected was that, when she was lying in her own bed, a man would suddenly appear by the bed and slap a chloroformed handkerchief over her mouth and nose. That was what happened. Outside her patio a waiting small boat on the beach was visible only where she was situated. The dark shadow against the wall managed to bypass every single safe guard of Micah's security system. He slipped into Callie's bedroom with a cloth and a bottle of chloroform and approached the bed where she was asleep.

The first Callie knew of the attack was when she felt a man's hand holding her head steady while a foul-smelling cloth was shoved up under her nose. She came awake at once, but she kept her head, even when she felt herself being carried roughly out of her bedroom onto the stone patio. She knew what to expect this time if she were taken, and she remembered vividly what Bojo had taught her that afternoon. She twisted her head abruptly so that the chloroform missed her face and landed in her hair. Then she got her hands up and slammed them against her captor's ears with all her might.

He cried out in pain and dropped her. She hit the stone-floored patio so hard that she groaned as her hip and leg crashed down onto the flagstones, but she dragged herself to her feet and grabbed at a shovel that the yardman had left leaning against a stone bench close beside her. As her assailant ignored the pain in his fury to pay her back, she swung the shovel and hit him right in the head with it. He made a strange sound and crumpled to the patio. Callie stared out toward the boat, where a dark figure was waiting.

Infuriated by the close call, and feeling very proud of the fact that she'd saved herself this time, she raised the shovel over her head. “Better luck next time, you son of a bitch!” she yelled harshly. “If I had a gun, I'd shoot you!”

Her voice brought Micah and two other men running out onto the patio. They were all armed. The two mercs ran toward the beach, firing as they made a beeline toward the little boat, which had powered up and was sprinting away with incredible speed and very little noise.

Micah stood in front of Callie wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxer shorts. He had an automatic pistol in one hand.
His hair was tousled, as if he'd been asleep. But he was wide-awake now. His face was hard, his dark eyes frightening.

He moved close to her, aware of her body in the thin nylon gown that left her breasts on open display in the light from inside the house. She didn't seem to notice, but he did. He looked at them hungrily before he dragged his gaze back up to her face, fighting a burst of desire as he tried to come to grips with the terror he'd felt when he heard Callie yelling. Thank God she'd had the presence of mind to grab that shovel and knock the man out.

“Are you okay?” he asked curtly.

“I'm better off than he is,” she said huskily, swallowing hard. Reaction was beginning to set in now, and her courage was leaking away as the terror of what had almost happened began to tear at her nerves. “He had chloroform. I…I fought free, but…oh, Micah, I was scared to…death!”

She threw herself against him, shuddering in the aftermath of terror. Now that the danger was past, reaction set in with a vengeance. Her arms went under his and around him. Her soft, firm breasts were flattened against his bare stomach because she was so much shorter than he was. Her hands ran over the long, hard muscles of his back, feeling scars there as she pressed closer. He felt the corner of her mouth in the thick hair that covered the hard muscles of his chest. His body reacted predictably to the feel of a near-naked woman and he gasped audibly and stiffened.

Her hips weren't in contact with his, but she felt a tremor run through his powerful body and she pulled back a little, curious, to look up at his strained face. “What's wrong?”

He drew in a steadying breath and moved back. “Nothing!
We'll get this guy inside and question him. You don't need to see it,” he added firmly. “You should go back into your room…”

“And do what?” she asked, wide-eyed and hurt by his sudden withdrawal. “You think I can go to sleep now?”

“Stupid assumption,” he murmured, moving restively as his body tormented him. “I can call Lisse and let her stay with you.”

“No!” She lifted her chin with as much pride as she had left. “I'll get dressed. Bojo will sit up with me if I ask him…”

“The hell he will!” he exploded, his eyes glittering.

She took a step backward. He was frightening when he looked like that. He seemed more like the stranger he'd once been than the man who'd been so kind to her in past days.

“I'll get dressed and you can stay with me tonight,” he snapped. “Obviously it's asking too much to expect you to stay by yourself!” That was unfair, he realized at once, and he ground his teeth. He couldn't help it. He was afraid to be in the same room with her in the dark, but not for the reason she thought.

She took another step backward, pride reasserting itself. Her chin came up. “No, thanks!” she said. “If you'll just get me a gun and load it and show me how to shoot it, I won't have any problem with being alone.”

She sounded subdued, edgy, still frightened despite that haughty look she was giving him. He was overreacting. It infuriated him that she'd had to rescue herself. It infuriated him that he wanted her. He was jealous of his men, angry that she was vulnerable, and fighting with all his might to keep from giving in to his desire for her. She was a marrying woman. She was a virgin. It was hopeless.

Worst of all, she'd almost been kidnapped again and on his watch. He'd fallen asleep, worn-out by days of wear and tear
and frustrated desire. Lopez had almost had her tonight. He blamed himself for not taking more precautions, for putting her in harm's way. He should have protected her. He should have realized that Lopez was desperate enough to try anything, including an assault on the house itself. So much for his security net. Upgrades were very definitely needed. But right now, she needed comfort, and he wasn't giving it to her.

He glanced toward the beach. Out beyond it, the little boat had stilled in the water and seemed to be sinking. A dark figure struck out toward the shore.

“Peter, get him!” Micah yelled.

The young man gave him a thumbs-up signal. The tall young man tossed down his weapon, jerked off his boots and over-clothes and dived into the water. The assailant tried to get away, but Peter got him. There was a struggle and seconds later, Peter dragged the man out of the water and stood over him where he lay prone on the beach.

Rodrigo came running back up from the beach just about the time the man who'd tried to carry Callie off woke up and rubbed his aching head.

“I told Peter to take the other man around the side of the house to the boat shed.”

“Good work,” Micah said.

“Oh, look, he's all right,” Callie murmured, her eyes narrowed on the downed man who was beginning to move and groan. “What a shame!”

Micah glanced at her. “Bloodthirsty girl,” he chided, and grinned despite his churning emotions.

“Well, he tried to kidnap me,” she bit off, finally getting her nerve and her temper back. She remembered the chloroform
and her eyes blazed. “All I had to hand was a lousy shovel, that's why he's all right.”

He turned to the other man. “Rodrigo, get this guy around to the boat shed to keep Peter's captive company. Strip them both, tie them up and gag them. I've got to make a few preparations and I'll be along to question them. Do
not
tell Bojo anything, except that the police have been notified. You can phone them to pick up Lopez's henchmen an hour from now, no sooner.”

“I know what you're thinking. It won't work,” Rodrigo said, trying to reason with him. “Lopez will be expecting his men back, if he hasn't already seen what happened.”