“Listen,” Payne said. “I know that she was disappointed that we hired you instead of her, but ultimately we all agreed that you were the better candidate for the job. She’s impressive, I’ll admit that, but—”
Jay stilled like a hound going on point. “What do you mean ‘hired me instead of her’? You mean she applied for the position that I’ve got?”
“Yes,” Payne said, sounding a bit baffled. “I thought that’s what—”
“Oh,” Jay said, his voice dissolving into a dark laugh. “Oh, oh, ohhh. That’s why it’s personal with her,” he marveled aloud. “That’s why she’s been smirking at me since the moment I arrived.”
Payne chuckled. “I take it when she was divulging the information she’d gleaned from your file she failed to mention that she’d actually applied for a job here?”
“Correct,” he said, smiling, giving his head a shake. “She neglected to share that little tidbit.”
“Well, I’m glad that I was able to enlighten you of that much, anyway.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of her resume, would you?”
“I do, along with the background check that we ran on her after she came in.”
Jay considered that. While his initial impulse was to ask for the additional file as well, ultimately...he did not. He didn’t know why he was willing to offer her the privacy she hadn’t afforded him, because, had she been a man, he had every certainty that he wouldn’t have.
But she wasn’t a man.
As he well knew.
And thank God, given his ridiculously insane preoccupation with her. It was unnerving. Every sensation, feeling, inclination was heightened when it came to Charlie.
He wasn’t just intrigued with her—he was fascinated.
He wasn’t just attracted to her—he was drawn, compelled even. She didn’t just annoy him— she infuriated him.
No doubt that was why he’d wigged out over her looking at his file, at her potentially reviewing the events leading up to his departure from the military.
Though he imagined that the gentlemen at Ranger Security were aware of the accident—and that he’d walked away unscathed—he, for reasons that escaped him, didn’t want her to know about it.
It was too personal and his own feelings about what should have been a blessing were too convoluted in his own mind to consider discussing them with anyone else. One question would lead to another and eventually he’d wind up in territory he didn’t want to explore.
“Just send me the resume,” Jay finally told Payne.
“You’re sure?”
“I don’t need her life story. I just need to know what she’s capable of.”
“Sometimes the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
That was a good point, but it didn’t change his mind. He merely chuckled. “She’s definitely going to be a thorn in my side.”
“And a perpetual pain in your ass until this is over,” Payne said.
Jay frowned. Was that a hint of admiration he heard in his boss’s voice?
“What did you think of her?” Jay asked him, interested in his new boss’s opinion of his newly acquired nemesis.
“I liked her,” Payne said without preamble. “She’s ballsy. She knew before she came in the door that we were going to turn her down, but she tried anyway. That takes guts.”
So did hacking into their system, but he didn’t think it prudent to remind Payne of that.
“You’ll see her resume. She’s a former detective—a good one, based on reviews and recommendations—and, though she’s small, she’s a fighter. She teaches self-defense classes at several local colleges and battered women’s shelters.”
“Self-defense?”
“She’s got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do,” Payne explained. “Juan Carlos took one of her classes. He owed her a favor and brought her in for the interview.”
Jay felt a line emerge between his brows. “Without your consent?”
An infinitesimal pause, but Jay caught it. “He was reprimanded.”
Left in the dark again, Jay thought, renewed irritation spiking his blood pressure.
“I realize that I’m being purposely vague,” Payne said, “but it’s not my story to tell.”
Ah. Well, at least that explained Juan Carlos’s distinctly chilly welcome this morning. Had it only been this morning? Jay thought, disturbed. It already felt like a lifetime ago. For reasons that escaped him, he imagined that was Charlie Martin’s fault. He knew a moment of bizarre premonition, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that meeting her had marked a new era in his life, a before and after more significant even than his recent career change.
The thought jarred him, forcing him to dismiss it as melodramatic bullshit. Sheesh. He was losing his damned mind. He’d never been prone to any sort of bullshit, least of all the melodramatic variety.
It was her, Jay concluded. She was doing this to him.
“Why didn’t you hire her?” he asked.
“Because you were better qualified.”
And she wasn’t a Ranger, Jay silently added. As far as he knew, the triumvirate—damn Juan Carlos for sticking that moniker in his head—hadn’t hired anyone for field work other than former Rangers. In many ways he understood that.
As Rangers themselves, McCann, Flanagan and Payne were aware of the training, the attention to detail, the skills and the mental agility required to get to that elite level of warrior status. Former Rangers were a known quantity with brotherhood-like bonds, ties that were formed on the battlefield, cemented with same experiences and, more often than not, baptized in some sort of blood.
Granted, Charlie Martin wasn’t a former Ranger, but from what he could see, she would have brought an entirely different set of expertise to the Ranger Security staff. His lips quirked. No doubt her hacking skills would have come in handy. If she’d been made detective, then she’d worked her way up in the police force relatively quickly, seen the darker side of humanity. And, while she was small, those Tae Kwon Do skills meant that she knew how to protect herself. That took discipline. He found himself reluctantly impressed.
As far as he could see, the only thing that had made him better qualified for the job was his military service, and, admittedly, that was by a narrow margin given her other skills. He knew his way around a computer well enough, but slinging code was a whole different skill set. It took a thoroughly organized— and in her case, slightly diabolical—mind.
And given the fact that they’d hired him instead of her, she was highly motivated to defeat him. A thrill of anticipation pushed adrenaline into his system, engaging his battle senses.
All right then, Kitty-Cat, Jay thought. Game on.
Chapter 7
Smokey Burkhart had managed to live to the ripe old age of sixty-eight before falling in love.
He could honestly say he didn’t much care for it.
He laid another log on the fire, then poked the coals around until the blaze stoked up again, licking the split timbers, curling around the bark. His Ms. Aggie enjoyed a fire. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever met another woman who liked one as much. She loved the scent of wood smoke, she’d once told him. Said it reminded her of her childhood in the Carolina hills.
Now it would forever remind him of her.
Over the years he’d heard love described in many different ways. He’d heard that it bloomed slowly, like a spring bud beneath the sun. That it had been instantaneous, a single inexplicable look and bam! Done. He’d heard about varying degrees of both, sometimes a combination of the two, but he’d never understood how a chance meeting or prolonged exposure to the same person could result in an affection that would render one essentially dependent on another for basic happiness.
He still couldn’t explain it, but couldn’t deny its existence anymore either.
She'd done that to him.
With a mere smile.
When he was feeling fanciful, which gallingly was happening more and more often, he imagined that the
curve of her smile had hooked his heart and her laugh had literally reeled him in. By the time their initial interview was over he’d been leaning closer and closer to her, that was for damned sure, as though his body needed to be as near to hers as possible.
In truth, he hadn’t required a job at all. He’d worked in forestry and conservation for the National Park Service for the better part of thirty years. The pay hadn’t been anything to write home about, really, but the benefits were quite good and he’d invested well. It had been a job he’d enjoyed, one that had fulfilled him. He’d seen the absolute best the country had to offer, in parts that few others had ever been.
Though he probably could have stayed on another few years, he’d decided after a too-close call with a momma bear—one that had left him with a foot-long set of scars across his back and a shoulder that still ached—to leave it to the younger guys. To this day he still couldn’t believe he’d missed her, that he’d made such a stupid, rookie mistake.
Water under the bridge.
He’d applied for this job purely out of boredom. A man could only tie so many fishing lures, and after a year of camping across the U.S. and another year putting the finishing touches on his cabin, he’d decided that he wasn’t meant to be idle. Given the choice of greeting people at a local big-box store or being a well-dressed jack-of-all-trades at the Betterworth estate, he’d chosen the latter. He grunted under his breath.
As if he’d had a choice after meeting Ms. Aggie.
“Oh,” the object of his torment breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. “I didn’t realize you were still in here.”
He hadn’t meant to be. Typically, he tended her fire and then got the hell out of her room. The scent of her perfume hung in the air—honeysuckle and lavender (he’d checked)—and made him want to sniff the curve of her jaw, nuzzle the side of her neck. She was dressed for bed, a red chiffon gown that hung to her feet, the matching bed jacket across her shoulders. It was feminine and prim and proper—nothing remotely risque—and yet the blood raced to his groin faster than a fox on a hare, and his mouth went bone-dry.
He stood slowly and dusted his hands. “I was just on my way out.”
“It’s rather late. You’re welcome to stay here,” she said, predictably. “Take one of the spare rooms.”
She offered almost every night, but he always refused. Spending the night in the same house with her without spending the night with her was more torment than he could stand. It was bad enough being in the same house with her all day, every day, needing to be close to her, knowing it could never work out.
Smokey knew other men could probably get over the fact that a) she was his boss, and b) she had more money than he did, but Smokey wasn’t one of those men. He knew that it was antiquated and old-fashioned...but what could he possibly offer a woman who could have whatever she wanted? What could he bring to the relationship that would have significant value? There wasn’t anything in this world that he could give her that she couldn’t get for herself. Sadly, the playing field was just too uneven—by several million dollars, in fact—and, at some point, he knew that would become an issue.
Better not to risk it
The flip side to that coin? If he quit, he wouldn’t get to see her at all. His gaze slid to her bare toes, which were curled adorably into the carpet. He snorted. Adorable? When did he start thinking in terms of adorable?
“I’d better not,” he said, giving her a deferential nod. “I’ll see you in the morning, Aggie.”
He left while he still could.
But damn if it wasn’t getting harder.
* * *
Charlie squashed the hint of regret that swelled in her traitorous heart, then quickly picked the lock securing Jay’s door. It was unfortunate that a law-abiding citizen—one who in the past had sworn to uphold said law—had been reduced to such unorthodox tactics, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
She had to know what he’d slipped into his pocket earlier this afternoon. At this point, any clue was significant, and she couldn’t afford not to be privy to whatever he’d found. The stakes were too high and failure simply wasn’t an option.
She had to find the dog first.
That’s what she’d kept telling herself this afternoon after he’d stormed away. Typically, when faced with the same sort of scenario, she could talk herself into believing that she’d done what she had to do. That winning in the boys’ club meant not apologizing for being a hard-ass.
Unfortunately, for reasons she couldn’t seem to figure out, the justification simply wouldn’t come. It was that look, Charlie had ultimately decided. That fleeting flash of genuine fear that had flickered through his eyes. She hadn’t been able to get it out of her head and, even worse, found herself genuinely concerned about what had put it there. What had he been afraid she’d find? What, exactly, haunted him?
Because clearly something did.
She’d been too preoccupied with alternately beating him and lusting after him to note the shadow lurking in that especially blue gaze, but once she’d paused long enough to really reflect, it was there.
Insanely, she wanted to fix it.
As if she could. As if that was her place. As if she hadn’t gone stark-raving mad.
With a telltale click, the lock gave and she quietly slipped into the room. She’d patiently waited until she’d heard his shower start, then she’d sprung into action. She didn’t know how long he’d be in the bathroom—her gaze darted in the direction of the en suite bath and she swore softly when she noted the open door—but she likely only had minutes to do what she needed to do.
A quick scan of the room revealed a tidy traveler, one who had stored his things in the empty closet and drawers and had set up his working area at the small desk in the comer of the room. She’d get to that, but in the meantime, where the hell were his pants? Not on the floor or slung carelessly over the back of a chair like a normal man, Charlie thought, growing increasingly nervous.
She picked up his cell phone and checked the last dialed call—Ranger Security. That didn’t surprise her, and no doubt accounted for the smug smile he’d occasionally shot in her direction over dinner. They must have told him that she’d applied for the job and hadn’t gotten it.
Renewed mortification stung her cheeks.
Oh well, Charlie thought with a bracing breath as she pulled up his email from his phone, she’d known he was going to find out. It had only been a matter of time. A message with an attachment from [email protected] snagged her attention. The subject line said Charlie Martin’s Resume. Because she was shameless and couldn’t resist, she opened the email.
As promised, here's the resume. Let me know if you change your mind about looking over the background check. Sometimes knowing one's opponent is half the battle. —BP
Charlie felt her eyes widen and her face flame with anger—quite hypocritically, she would admit—at the invasion of her privacy. How dare they— Who in the hell did they think— A background check? On her? After they’d shown her the door? To what purpose?
She seethed.
Then stilled.
And read the message again.
Let him know if he changed his mind about seeing the background check? So Payne had offered and Jay had refused? Even knowing that she’d read everything she possibly could about him?
That was...unexpected. And undeservedly noble.
She exited the mail app and set the phone back down as though it had suddenly burst into flames.
Damn.
How was she supposed to fight dirty with a guy who was going to fight fair? This had never happened before. It was unprecedented, unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t quite sure what to think, but a more pressing matter arose and she pushed the conundrum to the back of her mind.
A mesh basket near the closet caught her attention. A collapsible hamper. Impressed—even she didn’t travel with her own dirty-clothes hamper—she hurried over and snagged the pants out of the bottom, then pushe
d her hands into the pockets. She’d just felt something round and plastic brush her fingers when a noise from behind startled her.
Charlie reacted.
* * *
Even knowing that she had a black belt in Tae Kwon Do hadn’t prepared Jay for how quickly she could strike. One second the sneaky, diabolical, opportunistic little wench had been prodding around in his pants pocket and the next she’d swung around and struck.
Gallingly, she’d connected with enough speed and force to send him toppling even though he’d had half a second to prepare. His legs flew out from under him and he landed flat on his back, with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. Rather than check on him the way a normal, feeling woman would, she quickly whirled and grabbed his pants again, groping for the pocket.
Oh, hell, no.
Jay sprang up and tackled her from behind. Despite his bigger size, she managed to roll him with a well-placed elbow to the ribs. Pain shot through his middle and a stinging sensation ripped across his chest as he struggled to get the upper hand—hell, any hand.
“Get away from me,” she grunted. “Or I’m really going to make you sorry.”
He hadn’t gotten enough breath back to talk to her, so instead he continued to try to subdue her. It was like trying to hold on to a damned tornado. She twisted and turned, struck out and clawed.
Kitten, his ass, Jay thought—more like a feral cat.
The only thing that kept her from landing another potentially brutal blow was the fact that he was literally on top of her more than he was off and she couldn’t get enough strength behind her feet legs or arms to really let him have it.
“I mean it, Jay. I’m giving you fair warning.”
“Fair?” he managed to croak out, his eyes widening in mock astonishment. He dodged a knee to the groin, trapped her thigh. “That’s rich. You’ve broken into my room, are going through my friggin’ pants and you want to talk about fair?”
Her green-apple scent swirled around him and he was keenly aware of her soft breast against his chest. Damn, damn, damn. She was supple and strong and a strand of dark hair clung to her lush mouth and...
Up In Flames (Ranger Security Book 3) Page 7