It was heartbreaking to watch her, to see the sadness round her shoulders, the fear make them tense. “When was the last time you saw them?”
“A couple of weeks ago. In the parking lot of the grocery store. They told me they were going to get me. Called me a ‘thieving bitch’ because Gran left me everything. She raised me,” Sophie said. “She wasn’t just my grandmother. For all intents and purposes, she was my mother. She nursed me through childhood illnesses, she braided my hair, she taught me how to cook, helped me with my homework.” She swallowed, her voice cracking. “She was all I ever had.”
Jeb pulled her into his arms. “I wish I could have met her. She sounds like another perfect woman,” he said, giving her a squeeze.
The comment had the desired effect and she managed a wan smile. “She was,” she said. She nodded toward the end of the driveway. “He left me there,” she said. “At the end of that drive. Bleeding, bruised, scared, no shoes. In the middle of December. I was six.”
Bile rose in the back of his throat. “He’s not right, Sophie. He’s sick. They all are.”
“I know that now,” she said. “And I guess a part of me knew it then, but I still wondered what was wrong with me, why was I so hard to love?”
She was killing him, Jeb thought. Absolutely killing him and her pain made him want to pummel the ever-loving hell out of her father.
She slid a finger over the scar on her arm. “My mother did this,” she said, shocking him. “He brought me here and left me to keep her from killing me. I should thank him for that.”
“You don’t owe any of them anything.”
“They’re coming for me,” she said. “They wouldn’t have hung around otherwise.”
Jeb tilted her chin up and stared into her woefully familiar eyes. “They won’t get near you, sweetheart. I’d die first.”
Her chin trembled and she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips. “Don’t you dare,” she said fiercely, her voice cracking. “Don’t you dare.”
Jeb swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “I know all of your secrets,” he said. “It’s only fair that you know one of mine.”
Chapter 14
Sophie stilled, then turned to look at Jeb. “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “You haven’t found out anything that I wouldn’t have eventually confided. It would have taken more time, because it’s painful, but I would have told you.”
His gaze searched hers. “I want to tell you. I need to tell someone,” he said, his voice strained. He hesitated. “You pegged it when you said you didn’t know how I ever stood being in the military because I liked being in control. It was a struggle, I’ll admit. But I liked the sense that what I was doing made a difference, that I was part of something bigger than myself, that I was doing my bit for Uncle Sam.”
“I can understand that,” she said, snuggling in closer to his side. She loved the way he felt next to her, as if this niche inside his arms had been made expressly for her.
“I’ve always had good instincts and, when I’ve followed them, they’ve never let me down. Not once.”
She had a terrible suspicion she knew where this was going.
“Six months ago I took a team into Mosul. 1 felt like something was off, wrong, and that I didn’t need to move forward.” He paused, his gaze turning inward. “I conveyed my feelings to my commanding officer, who was sitting safely back at base, maneuvering us like pieces of a chess board. He told me to press on. To follow orders.”
Ah, Sophie thought. She’d been wrong. His instincts had been right, not wrong. And he’d ignored them.
“I did,” he said. “And even though I led my men in, when the bullets started flying, I was the only one who survived.”
Sophie’s heart squeezed and she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Oh, Jeb, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s why I came out,” he said. “That’s why I pulled the plug on my career and found a new one. I decided that I was never going to follow another order that put me at odds with what I felt was right.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said. “You were on the ground, in front, in the line of fire. That officer should have listened to you. Should have trusted your instincts.” She grimaced. “No wonder you couldn’t stay,” she said. “How could you after your commanding officer showed so little confidence in you? Especially since ignoring your expertise resulted in the death of your friends.”
He turned to look at her, that wondering expression on his face once again, the one that said she’d just taken another peek inside of his head and he’d been unprepared for it. “That’s unnerving,” he said. “You.. .get me, you know it? You really do.”
Sophie grinned. “Do you know what I’d like to do right now, soldier?” she asked, arching playful brow. He chuckled low. “What?”
“Get on you.”
###
“I can’t take this waiting,” Jeb told Payne days later. “And it’s wearing on Sophie’s nerves too. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder and is taking a pistol with her everywhere she goes.” He blew out a breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m sick of it. Sick of watching her suffer.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go scare the hell out of them,” Jeb said. “I’m going to frighten them so terribly and threaten them so thoroughly that they’ll never look cross-eyed at her again, much less violate the protection agreement.”
At this point, the issue of Sophie’s family was common knowledge, as were Jeb’s feelings for her. He’d known the first day that she’d walked into the diner that she was special. He’d felt it in his gut. She was it.
His.
“Wait for us,” Payne told him. “I’ll get Jamie and Guy and we’ll be there in less than half an hour. No point in going in alone and, between the three of us, I think we’d make a formidable team.”
Touched, Jeb swallowed. He wouldn’t have asked, but sincerely appreciated the offer. Had Judd been here, Jeb knew his little brother would have had his back. It was heartening to see that these men would, too.
“Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
Thirty minutes later, dressed in black swat outfits and packing enough artillery to level a small town, the four of them burst into Sophie’s family’s dingy motel room and went Special Ops on their ass.
Her father had scrambled from the bed and curled into a ball against the wall, her brother had literally pissed himself and her mother had screamed like a wild woman and launched herself at Payne, who’d held up his gun and coolly informed her that it had been awhile since he’d gotten to shoot someone and she’d do as good as anybody.
“Leave immediately,” Jeb had told them. “Don’t call her, don’t send her any letters, don’t look at her, don’t come within a hundred miles of her. Stay the hell away from her, or make no mistake, I’ll hurt you.” He meant it. “And believe me, I know how. I can make you feel pain you’ve never imagined in your worst nightmares. Do you understand?”
“Fine,” her father snarled. “The bitch isn’t worth it.”
Jeb drew back and slammed his fist into his jaw, knocking him out cold. “Don’t you talk about my future wife like that,” he said.
The four of them sat in the parking lot and waited for the three to load up their stuff and leave. Looking appropriately frightened, they had, spinning gravel as they aimed their car away from her farm.
“You’re going to marry her, huh?” Jamie asked, stuffing a snack cake into his mouth.
“What?”
“In there,” he said. “You told her father not to talk about your future wife like that.”
He blinked. “I did?”
The three of them chuckled and shook their heads. “You did. Sounds like a Freudian slip, doesn’t it, boys?” Guy remarked.
Payne arched a brow. “Do you want to marry her?”
Jeb felt a bemused smile slip over his mouth, tugging the corners of his lips. He did. Sweet heaven... he did. H
e laughed, shook his head. “Yes, I do.”
“Well, get on with it then,” he said. “Didn’t that group host a ball in less than twenty-four hours? A wedding is even more romantic. I’ll wager they could pull one of those together in half that time.”
A spark of an idea formed and he nodded, feeling the rightness of it settle over him.
“I’ve got to go,” he announced, pushing from Payne’s car and heading to his own.
“I imagine you do,” Jamie called out. “Let us know when and where and we’ll be there.”
Jeb grinned. “You got it,” he said. “And brace yourselves, boys, cause these senior citizens know how to party.”
“Sophie, someone’s here to see you,” Carl called. She frowned and checked her appointment book. She didn’t have anyone down. How could she have missed...?
Jeb ducked into her massage room and smiled when he spotted her. “Hey,” he said. “You owe me a working over, remember?”
She chuckled softly. “I seem to recall something like that. Get undressed and get on the table.”
He did, revealing the body she’d come to think of as hers, the glorious muscles, the sleek skin. Her living playground. She warmed the oil and dropped it on his chest, then swirled it over his slickened skin.
He groaned. “Oh, that feels good. You really know what you’re doing.”
“Did you ever doubt it?” she asked, smiling as her heart rate tripped into over-drive. Her breasts grew heavy with want, hungering for his touch. Her womb flooded with a familiar heat and soaked into her panties, readying for him.
“You know what would make this massage even better?” he asked.
She bit her lip, trailing her fingers down the front of his thighs, watching his dick leap to attention. Hers, she thought. All hers.
“What would make it better, Jeb?”
She took him in hand, had the pleasure of watching his back come off the table, a hiss of pleasure move between his clenched teeth.
“If you’d get naked and get up on this table…and slide around on top of me.”
Unable to resist him, Sophie did just that. She threaded her fingers through his, frowning when something didn’t feel right. She drew back.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked, staring at the bruised knuckles.
“It ran into your father,” he said, his gaze searching hers. “They’re gone, Sophie. And they’re never coming back. Ever.”
Her heart skipped a beat and she blinked, confused. “What?” she breathed.
“Me, Payne, McCann and Jamie went over to the motel and explained things to them,” he said. “They could leave and never bother you again, or we were going to show them what would happen if they didn’t.” He cracked his knuckles and grinned.
“What?”
“It wouldn’t have come to that, but as bluffs go, it worked well. Bullies only respond to force. We were forceful.”
Her chest squeezed and emotion clogged her throat. “You did that for me?”
“I would do that and a whole lot more for lesser reasons,” he said.
She melted, resting her forehead against his.
“How am I supposed to resist you when you say things like that?” she asked helplessly.
He drew back, smiling. “I didn’t know you were trying to resist me.”
“Well, not very hard, I’ll admit,” she said, “but I should be trying. I shouldn’t be so damned easy.”
“Why the hell not?” He grabbed her bare rump, lifted and pushed up into her, making her eyes roll back in her head. “It’s working brilliantly for me,” he said. “God, you feel good. I feel like I’m going to die every time we’re together like this and still, I look forward to it.”
She tightened around him, leaned back and put her hands on his chest, undulating her hips. His big hands anchored either side of her waist and he pushed up, meeting her as she rode him, catching her rhythm and going with her for the ride. He leaned forward, pulled a nipple into his mouth. “Marry me,” he said, thrusting harder.
She started, certain she’d misunderstood him, felt the flash of impended release boiling up inside her. “Marry me, Sophie,” he repeated, his voice raw, desperate. “I need you.” He bit back a curse, then groaned as she clenched around him once more. “Marry me. Please. I love you.”
She came, hard. Her neck went boneless, too weak to support her head, and a long cry of release ripped from her throat, happiness permeating every cell.
Her release triggered his and he joined her there, his glorious body quaking beneath hers. “Marry me,” he repeated, those blue eyes beseeching. “Say yes. Be mine.”
Sophie smiled, melted against him. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you,” she said.
“Then let’s make it official. Cora’s got your dress.”
She straightened and pulled away from him. “What?”
“She’s got your dress and the church is ready,” he said, grinning like a fool.
Her fool.
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking? You’re the one who said they could host a party in no time at all. Why would a wedding be any harder?”
“They’re all waiting? Right now?”
“Every last one of them.” He stood, retrieved a small box from his pants pocket and withdrew a ring. “Here,” he said, his hands trembling. “Let’s make it official, shall we?”
A lump welled in her throat. “It’s Annie’s ring.”
“It was,” he said. “Foy wanted you to have it. He’s giving you away. Threatened to plant a conker on Clayton Plank if he had a problem with that.”
She chuckled, her eyes welling with tears. “I can’t believe you did this,” she said. “I don’t know what to say.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her. “‘I do’ will suffice.”
Thirty minutes later, dressed in a designer gown she couldn’t have been more happy with had she picked it herself, surrounded by her surrogate family and friends, Foy walked her down the aisle and he and Cora gave her away.
Cora gave her a squeeze, her eyes brimming with tears. “Your grandmother would have been so happy to see you today,” she said. “She made me promise that I’d see you settled, and I have,” she said. “I never break a promise.”
Sophie’s throat clogged with emotion and she hugged her dear friend. “Thank you, Cora. For everything.”
“Love you, sweet girl,” Cora said. “He’s a lucky man.”
Sophie turned to Jeb, who stood waiting patiently for her. Those vivid blue eyes glowed with happiness and pride and, God help her, love.
He loved her.
With his brother serving as best man via the facetime feature on his phone, the preacher officiated the service, then asked the all important question.
“Do you, Sophie, take Jeb to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?”
Her gaze tangled with his and her chest ached with joy. “I do.”
He breathed an audible sigh of relief, much to the merriment of their guests.
“I love you,” she whispered, because she hadn’t said it yet. “You’re the winner of my Perfect Man contest.”
Sneak Peek
Judd’s Story, Over the Top
Keep reading for your preview…
PROLOGUE
Baghdad, Iraq
Military sniper Judd Willingham ignored the sweat sliding into his eyes and the nausea climbing the back of his throat and snugged his finger tight against the trigger. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it thundering in his ears and the metallic taste of panic clung to his dry tongue. He didn’t move—he’d learned to be perfectly still—his body flat against the sandy ground, his weapon positioned perfectly on the tripod.
“In range, clear shot,” his spotter, Lewis Masterson said, his disembodied voice coming through the headset.
He knew, dammit. He
knew. And yet...
“Captain?”
“I see, Lewis,” he said, his voice raspy through his tightened throat.
Clear target, in range, perfect shot. A so-called humane kill. The miserable sonofabitch lined up in his crosshairs had been strapping bombs onto terrified children and then sending them into the marketplace before remote detonating. The man deserved to die, if you asked him, and up until a month ago Judd hadn’t minded meting out justice, had proudly embraced his Angel of Death moniker.
So why in the name of all that was holy couldn’t he pull the godforsaken trigger? Why couldn’t he do what he’d been trained to do? What he knew how to do best? Better than anybody, he’d been told. What he’d been doing for Uncle Sam for the past five years? Why the sudden attack of nerves, of conscience?
Why did he want to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this?
“Captain, you gonna take the shot?” Lewis prodded again, a hint of galling uncertainty in his voice.
He wanted to, dammit. It was his duty, his job, his purpose. He forcibly swallowed back the bile in his throat, dry heaved and readied himself once more. His target hadn’t moved. He could do this, Judd told himself. Had to do this. He released a breath, narrowed his gaze, and then put his finger determinedly against the trigger and...
“He’s moving, Angel! He’s moving!” Lewis exclaimed. “Take the shot! Take him out!”
Judd hesitated.
Lewis didn’t.
Captain Judd Willingham hung his head in as much shame as relief, swore softly under his breath and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his career in the military was officially over.
CHAPTER 1
Six Months Later
Dressed in a courier’s uniform, newly minted security agent Judd Willingham made the short walk up the cracked sidewalk to the small front porch of the nondescript brick house. Twinkling Christmas lights with more burnt-out bulbs than working ones sagged from the eaves and a sad-looking wreath hung from a door in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. Dead weeds, their crispy skeletons all that remained from a robust summer, pushed up between the evergreen shrubs, crowding the flower beds on either side of the entrance, and a rusty mailbox hung drunkenly from a lone nail which was dangerously close to slipping from the mortar. Judd grimaced.
Under His Skin (Ranger Security Book 1) Page 16