Ivy's Delta (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Delta Team Three Book 4)

by Elle James

  Merlin tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

  Gwen grinned. “Ivy was a prosecuting attorney.”

  Duff frowned down at her. “Was?”

  Ivy looked away. “Was. I own a gift shop now.”

  “Less stress?” Destiny asked.

  Ivy nodded and winced at the pain that shot through her temple. “Much less.” And less guilt at my own ineffectiveness. She brushed her fingers over the bump near her eye.

  “We’re going to the hospital now,” Duff said. Guiding her around the side of the building, he came to an abrupt halt as they emerged in the front parking lot. “Damn.”

  “What’s wrong?” Ivy leaned into him.

  “All I have is my motorcycle.”

  Zip handed him the keys to his Corvette. “Take my car. I’ll ride your bike.”

  “Thanks, man,” Duff said.

  “We can switch off in the morning,” Zip said. “Although, I might decide I like it a little too much and keep it.”

  “Whatever,” Duff said.

  Zip stared at Duff as if he’d grown a horn in the middle of his forehead. “Seriously? You’re letting me drive your motorcycle?”

  “I could act as shocked. You never let anyone else drive your Corvette.”

  “Yeah, well, these are special circumstances.” Zip winked at Ivy. “Duff on a date doesn’t happen every day.”

  “We’re not on a date,” Duff grumbled. “I’m taking the woman to the damned hospital.”

  “Which any one of us could do,” Jangles pointed out.

  Ivy’s cheeks heated. “You don’t have to take me,” she said. He was getting enough grief from his friends. “I could go with Gwen and Merlin.”

  “I’m taking you,” he said, his tone firm. Final. “The keys to my motorcycle are in the ignition. Helmet’s on the seat.” He marched forward, stopping in front of a shiny, sleek black Corvette.

  Ivy gulped. “We’re going in this? The way my luck is running, aren’t you afraid we’ll scratch it, or worse?”

  “That’s what insurance is for,” Zip said behind them. “Go on. I’m looking forward to my bike ride.”

  Duff clicked the button to unlock the doors and held the passenger side open for Ivy, handling her with care.

  Ivy sank into the leather seat and leaned her head back against the headrest.

  Duff folded himself into the driver’s seat, his big body taking up all the space. His knees bumped into the steering wheel. Duff muttered a single curse and slid the seat back a couple of inches.

  Ivy’s lips twitched, but she refrained from laughing. She could tell the man was uncomfortable in the confines of the sports car. “We could have gone on your bike.”

  He frowned. “No. You were knocked out. I couldn’t risk it. And your dress.” He lifted his chin toward her.

  She smoothed a hand over the long skirt that would have been a hazard had it gotten caught in the motorcycle’s spinning rear wheel. “Good point.”

  Duff drove to the hospital in silence.

  Ivy honored his silence while a thousand questions filled her head. A head that was still spinning a little.

  There weren’t many people at the ER, so getting to the doctor didn’t take as long as Ivy thought it would.

  He checked her out and ran her through a CT scan. His verdict was that she might have a mild concussion, but that she could go home as long as someone watched her through the night for any changes. It wasn’t necessary, but if she felt more comfortable, she could have that someone wake her every four hours to make sure she wasn’t experiencing other symptoms like blurred vision, nausea, headache, ringing in the ears, or vomiting.

  He looked to Duff. “Will you be staying with her?”

  Ivy was shaking her head when Duff answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Call 911 if she has any of those symptoms.”

  “Yes, sir,” Duff said.

  As soon as she was discharged and they’d exited the hospital, Ivy turned to Duff. “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine. I don’t have any of those symptoms.”

  “I’m staying. The question is, my place or yours?” He cocked an eyebrow in challenge.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not budging on this, are you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Too tired and emotionally drained to argue, she turned toward the car. “Mine.” She’d figure out what to do with the man once they got there. A shiver of excitement rippled across her skin and heat built low in her belly.

  She had to remind herself that he hadn’t been interested in her as evidenced when he walked out of the bar without an explanation or a fuck you. That hadn’t changed. He must be feeling some sense of responsibility for her to make him insist on staying with her.

  He held the door for her as she dropped down into the Corvette.

  “You know you’re not responsible for me, right?” she said, looking up at him. “I could catch a ride home and you don’t have to be bothered.”

  He closed the door without commenting.

  When he slid in beside her, she frowned. “You really don’t talk much, do you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Look,” she said, her frown deepening. “If you’re going to stay the night at my house, you have to stop calling me ma’am.”

  Chapter 5

  After Ivy gave Duff her address, she sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.

  Duff drove highway 190 west from Killeen to Copperas Cove and turned off the main road into a subdivision of nice homes, many of them constructed of the white limestone prevalent in the area. He stopped in front of a one-story home with a rambling front porch with thick cedar posts.

  The house was in a gated community with nice, well-maintained yards and two- or three-car garages attached to every home.

  Duff didn’t spend a lot of money and had a significant amount saved since he didn’t have a family or expensive hobbies. He rode motorcycles, but he usually rebuilt them, rather than buying new.

  It gave him great pleasure to work with his hands, lovingly restoring bikes that had been ill-treated or neglected for years. He usually sold them once he restored them to their former glory and usefulness. Still, he owned four he kept in his garage, alongside his black Toyota 4Runner.

  Thinking about his 4Runner, he realized he’d subconsciously chosen his motorcycle, knowing it would be difficult to offer a ride home to a woman if she wasn’t willing to ride on the back seat of his motorcycle. A good excuse not to offer.

  Hindsight being what it was, Duff wished he’d brought his SUV. It was much more comfortable than Zip’s Corvette and easier to get into and out of, especially if one was concussed and shaky from an encounter with a thug.

  Duff parked in front of the garage, got out, and rounded to the passenger side where Ivy had pushed open the car’s door.

  Duff opened the door the rest of the way and reached out a hand to Ivy.

  She took his hand and let him pull her out of her seat and onto her feet.

  Ivy’s knees buckled and she would have fallen except Duff caught her up against him and held her until she steadied.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Ivy said. “I’m not normally this clumsy.”

  “You were attacked,” Duff said.

  “Hours ago,” she argued. ‘I shouldn’t still be shaking.”

  “How many times in your life have you been attacked?”

  “Counting tonight?” Ivy grimaced. “One.”

  “The first time leaves you a little in shock.”

  “I guess, being a Delta Force guy, you’ve been attacked numerous times.” She leaned into him as he walked her to her front door.

  “A few,” he responded, liking the feel of her body against his a little more than he should for having only encountered her two times.

  “Do you ever get used to being attacked?”

  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say used to it, but you
get a little hardened to it. You have a security system?”

  “I turned it off from my phone when we pulled up.” She pulled her keys out of her purse.

  “Want me to do it?” he asked.

  With a nod, she handed him the set and waited while he unlocked her door and pushed it inward.

  Before she could step across the threshold, he stilled her with a hand on her arm. “Mind if I check the premises before you go inside?”

  She frowned. “You think the attacker would be here? How would he know where I lived? He didn’t get my purse.”

  Again, he shrugged. “I’d feel better clearing the building before you enter.”

  She waved a hand. “Have at it.”

  He stepped inside, flipped the light switch on the wall, and looked into the rooms closest to the door before turning back to her and pulling her inside. “Wait in the front foyer while I clear the building.”

  He closed the door behind her and made a quick sweep of her home, looking for bad guys. Unarmed, he was careful to ease into rooms without exposing too much of his body to a potential gunman.

  The house was empty except for Ivy’s possessions—light and bright-colored furniture and paintings. Huge picture windows looked out over a dark backyard.

  “All clear,” he said and nodded toward the dark windows. “You might consider curtains or blinds. Anyone can look in and see you before you see them at night.”

  “I like my windows open. And my backyard is fenced. No one should be going back there without my permission.”

  “You give your permission for that guy to throw you in the trunk?” Duff asked.

  Ivy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No. But I can’t live in fear of someone always looking in my windows. I like light and sunshine.”

  “I’m not saying you should give up the light and sunshine. Just get some shades or curtains to cover them at night. You can’t see out, but I guarantee, people can see in.”

  When she opened her mouth to argue, he held up his hand. “Your life. Your decision.”

  She nodded. “Right.” She moved past him into a short hallway. Three bedrooms led off the hallway, a master and two guest bedrooms, one of which had been converted into an office with bookshelves lining the walls. As he’d passed the shelves, Duff had noted some impressive leather-bound volumes of law books.

  Not only was she beautiful… she was smart. Smarter than he could ever hope or want to be. At least where laws were concerned. The book he bought at Gwen’s shop on rebuilding engines was more in his lane. He liked working in tandem with his mind and hands. Nothing made him feel better than to take something that didn’t work, that was ragged and dented, and bring it back to life and its original beauty.

  Ivy led the way to one of the guest bedrooms. “You can sleep in here tonight. She smiled at the soft blues and whites. “It’s not very masculine, but the bed is comfortable, and the sheets are clean.”

  Duff shook his head. “I’ll sleep in the living room.”

  “The sofa isn’t long enough for you,” Ivy argued.

  Duff snorted. “This bed isn’t either. The sofa will be fine.”

  “Okay.” She crossed the hallway to a linen closet and paused. “Sheet?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Blanket?”

  “No.”

  She frowned.

  “Pillow?” he asked.

  Ivy smiled, headed into the guest bedroom, pulled a pillow off the bed and handed it to him, shaking her head. “You’re a hard one to read, did you know that?”

  “I’m a simple man. I don’t require much.”

  “I was raised to make guests feel at home,” she said.

  “I sleep on the ground beneath the stars or in my lounge chair at my place.”

  Ivy tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept on the ground beneath the stars. On a floor, yes, when I was a girl at a slumber party, but not outside, looking up at the stars.”

  Duff frowned. “You’ve never been camping?”

  She shook her head. “No. My parents were politicians. They didn’t have time to take me camping or hiking. While other kids were doing things like that, I was accompanying my parents to rallies and townhalls.”

  Ivy Fremont.

  “Isn’t there a senator Fremont from Texas?” Duff asked. “A female senator?”

  A half-smile lifted Ivy’s lips but never quite made it to her eyes. “Elizabeth Fremont.”

  “You related?”

  “She’s my mother.”

  Duff digested that piece of information. “And your father?”

  “The late governor John Fremont.”

  “That’s why you went into law?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Gwen told Merlin you were a store owner.”

  “I am. I quit the law firm and opened my own gift shop.”

  “Quit law?” He shook his head. “After all the effort it took to get your degree?”

  She looked to the side. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Why not?’ You obviously have the intelligence.”

  “Sure. I’m smart enough to read, comprehend, and score high enough on tests. I was in criminal law. I watched too many bad guys get caught, go in front of a judge and get off on some technicality, only to go on to commit more and even worse crimes.”

  When she started to pass him in the hallway, he reached out and gripped her arm. “Did you lose one of those cases?”

  Her lips twisted for a moment. “Yeah.”

  “He go on to commit more crimes?”

  She nodded, a single tear slipping over the rim of her lower eyelid. “He killed the woman who testified against him.”

  “You felt like you hadn’t done enough to put the bastard away.” It was a statement. Duff knew what it felt like. He’d felt like he hadn’t done enough to save Katie. He hadn’t dived deep enough, long enough, or in the right place to find her in time to save her from drowning.

  “I tried,” she said, looking up at him with those emerald green eyes. No tears, just a hollowness that echoed in his own heart. “It wasn’t enough.”

  Duff pulled her into his arms and held her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek on his chest.

  For a long moment, they stood in the hallway, arms locked around each other.

  Somewhere in the house a clock chimed, bringing Duff back to reality. He leaned back and brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear. “You should get some sleep.”

  She nodded. “You, too.”

  For another long moment, they stood as if unwilling to break the bond formed in that one embrace.

  Finally, Duff stepped backward and let his hands fall to his sides. He wanted to keep holding her. He reminded himself they were strangers, not lovers, and he was only there to make sure she didn’t suffer any ill effects from the concussion.

  He tilted her chin and stared at the lump at her temple.

  “Will I have a shiner?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Just a bruise and a small goose-egg-sized bump.”

  “Seems like a lot of fuss for a little bump.”

  “Would be, if you hadn’t been knocked unconscious.” He brushed his thumb lightly across her cheek, touched her arm, and nodded his head toward the master bedroom. “Go.” He needed her to go before he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her…like she’d kissed him in the bookstore. His gaze dropped to her lush lips. “Why?” he asked before he could think better of it.

  Her brow creased. “Why what?”

  “Why’d you kiss me in Gwen’s bookstore?”

  Her cheeks reddened and she looked away. “I don’t know… It just…happened.” Ivy looked up into his eyes.

  Then he was pulling her into his arms, kissing her.

  She ran her hands up his chest and around the back of his neck, dragging him closer, deepening another kiss that shouldn’t have happened.

  When at last they broke apart, Duff’s breath was ragged, and his hear
t pounded against his ribs.

  Ivy’s chest rose and fell. She raised a hand to her mouth and stared at him, her eyes wide. “See? That’s why I kissed you. I had to.”

  He chuckled, though it was difficult to do when he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Go to bed, Ivy, before I do it again.”

  She hesitated.

  “Go,” he repeated.

  Ivy turned and ran into the master bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Duff drew in a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. What was it about the auburn-haired beauty that made him want more out of life than what he had?

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts, squared his shoulders and retrieved the pillow from where it had fallen at his feet. When had that happened? Why couldn’t he remember?

  The woman filled his mind as he settled on the couch in the living room. He studied the paintings of gardens full of colorful flowers and sidewalk cafes with even more colorful flowers cascading over the edges of balconies.

  What a stark contrast between this room and the office with all the bound leather tomes of law.

  The woman dressed like a hippie from the seventies yet had the law degree to prove her intelligence and that she could hold her own in an argument or in court.

  But no matter how smart she was, she hadn’t had the strength to resist being kidnapped and thrown into a trunk.

  Duff’s hands clenched into fists. He hoped the police pulled some prints and they nailed the guy before he hurt someone else.

  Especially not someone like Ivy.

  Ivy stood on the other side of her bedroom door for a long time, her heart beating so fast she felt as if she’d been running a marathon. And all she’d done was kiss a man. Only, he’d initiated it this time.

  What did it mean?

  Anything?

  She was being ridiculous. They’d only really met that night. How could she be so consumed by him already?

  Squaring her shoulders, she marched to her dresser and extracted clean panties and pajamas. Ivy put them back in the drawer and selected lacy panties and a silky baby doll nightgown. It wasn’t like Duff would see them, but if the house caught on fire and he had to carry her out…