Seducing the Colonel's Daughter: Seducing the Colonel's DaughterThe Secret Soldier

by Jennifer Morey

  He reached her and said in a strong voice that matched his energy, “Lucian LeFevre.” He held out his hand.

  She swiveled on the barstool and gave him her hand, unprepared for her unexpected attraction to such a man. “Jada Manoah.”

  Lifting her hand, he kissed the tops of her fingers. “You are very beautiful, Ms. Manoah.”

  Maybe it was his accent. “Jada.”

  He smiled seductively, a man full of himself and his prowess with women who captivated him. “You may call me Lucian.”

  “Lucian.”

  “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

  “I’d like that very much.” Finding that she meant it more than she should, she paid no heed as he took her tea and led her to his table. With a nod, the two with him got up and left.

  He ordered for himself and Jada when a waiter appeared.

  “What brings you to Anguilla?” Sitting back in his chair, he absorbed her, took in her face with leisurely thoroughness, not hiding his masculine interest. She was safe for now.

  She decided right then not to lie. If she could use him to get her painting, she would. “A painting.”

  More of that satisfaction flooded his eyes. “A painting? Here?”

  “It’s called The Portrait of Sarah.” She put her arms on the table and leaned toward him, returning his look with a sultry one of her own. His gaze flitted to her cleavage. “It’s extremely valuable.”

  “What a coincidence. I came here for the same reason.”

  She smiled. Genuinely. Big, bright and full of the excitement that charged her blood. They’d both essentially admitted that they each knew what the other was after.

  The waiter appeared, refilling Jada’s tea.

  “Send our meals to my room,” Lucian instructed. Then he stood and held out his hand. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

  She put her hand in his and he led her to the elevators. Standing beside him, feeling his anticipatory gaze travel all over her body, she felt apprehension rear up. He made her respond in a way that put her at odds with her purpose. She would use him to get the painting, and yet she responded to his attraction.

  Opening his room door, he let her in ahead of him. It was a large suite with a view of the ocean.

  She walked to the windows, savoring the sunset. She wasn’t afraid of Lucian. In a way, he was a lot like her. Nothing would stand in his way of acquiring the painting. It kind of excited her, meeting someone with the same passion.

  He came up behind her, reached around and tipped her chin up. “Why do you want The Portrait of Sarah?”

  “I’m Jewish.”

  Grinning shrewdly, he looked down at her lips. “You’ve an interest in stolen Nazi art?”

  “I have for years. And The Portrait of Sarah was stolen from a Jew. That makes it Jewish art, I believe.”

  His lustful gaze met hers and she wasn’t sure he believed her. “The painting will be mine.”

  “Then I’ll help you get it.”

  “And let me keep it?”

  “Could I take it from you if I tried?”

  He chuckled.

  He didn’t think she could. “I didn’t come up here to manipulate you.”

  “No?”

  She arched her head to bring her mouth closer to his. “No.”

  “Why did you come here?” He slid his hands up her torso to cover her breasts.

  Electrified sparks of passion inundated her. Her response to his touch spun her mind into confusion. Why was she reacting so strongly to him?

  “You want the painting,” he said.

  “Yes.” Passion made her thoughts fuzzy.

  “What will you do to have it?” He stepped away from her, backing toward the wide opening that led to the bedroom.

  She followed, knowing he was testing her. Her pulse quickened with apprehension and a peculiar kind of thrill. Would she do anything?

  In the bedroom, he removed his suit jacket and tie and began to unbutton his dress shirt. She had no doubt of his intentions. She should admit her mistake and leave, but something kept her from doing so.

  Was the painting worth doing this? One inner voice answered with a resounding yes, while another prodded her to turn and go.

  If she had any chance of obtaining the painting, she’d have to go along with this.

  He reached his hand to her, his eyes dark with lust.

  She moved forward and put her hand in his. He pulled her to him, sliding his arms around her.

  “I’m not doing this for the painting,” she said, but it was a half-truth.

  His brow rose in tantalizing doubt.

  Stepping away from his arms, she pushed the straps of her red sundress off each shoulder. “Why do you want the painting so much?”

  “I love history.”

  “That’s too vague.”

  “I love the history of The Portrait of Sarah. I’ve loved it since the moment I learned of it. Two murders. The affair between a Nazi and a Jew. Stolen art...”

  His reason stoked her passion hotter. He appreciated the painting as much as she. Oddly, that acted as an aphrodisiac.

  She let her sundress drop to the floor at her feet.

  He looked fully, dark, evil desire roaming all over her. She knew nothing about this man except his obsession with The Portrait of Sarah.

  He took off his dress shirt and began unfastening his slacks.

  Certainty swirled inside Jada. She’d have this man tonight. She’d enjoy every touch. Every stroke. But he was a fool if he underestimated her. No matter how rich and powerful he was, nothing would stand in her way. The painting was hers.

  Chapter 5

  Sitting across from Travis on the patio of the Yellow Umbrella, a hotel café that Travis had deliberately dragged her to, Raeleen ended the call she’d tried to make to Landon, her cameraman. She’d called him several times since cell service was restored. Something was wrong, and she was beginning to get very worried.

  Travis glanced up at her as though wondering if she’d tried to call Deet, and then he resumed reading that damn newspaper as if she weren’t even there. He was aware, though. She wasn’t fooled by his show of utter calm. A stranger would think he was enjoying his vacation after surviving a hurricane. Just a handsome man sitting with his girlfriend on a lovely Caribbean morning. She hated how that appealed to her, especially since he refused to let her out of his sight and she’d already had repeated arguments in her head over why she was letting him control her. She was surprised he’d allowed her to go shopping for a small piece of luggage and some clothes to get her by.

  Turning toward the street, sunlight sprayed down from a cloudless sky. No wind. Warm and beautiful.

  Where was Landon? Travis told her he’d talked to him when he’d arrived on the island, and the travel coordinator at the Dining Network confirmed he hadn’t flown home before the hurricane. The airport wasn’t open yet. Landon had to be on the island, but why hadn’t he tried to call her, and why wasn’t he in his room? Had he been caught in the storm?

  His absence and the ever-present unknown over Deet and her kidnapping had her on edge. Why had Deet driven to her cottage after the storm? Why had he tried to meet with her alone? She’d have gone to see him by now if Travis wasn’t so adamant about not letting her out of his sight. He had his orders. And his orders were to bring her home. He was sticking to them ever since she ran off on him to meet Deet.

  Travis turned a page of the newspaper, and she was once again drawn to him. His long eyelashes. The strong features of his face, jawbone, brow, cheeks. Firm lips. Manly hands that held the paper. He had clean, trimmed fingernails. He was well-groomed, but nothing could soften his rugged exterior.

  She refused to acknowledge that that had anything to do with why she was lis
tening to him and not trying again to sneak out and meet Deet. Besides, he did have a point about the wisdom of meeting him alone.

  “Still not answering?” Travis asked without looking up from his paper. The man had an annoying ability to appear unruffled in the most dire situations.

  “No.”

  He put down the paper. Having seen how worried she was getting, genuine concern seemed to sober him. He put cash on the table to close out their tab and stood.

  “Come on. We’ll go look for him.”

  Raeleen stood and walked with him out into the lobby. Her cell phone rang. Stopping, she pulled it out of her purse. Seeing Landon’s name in the display, she shut her eyes in relief and sighed as she answered. “Landon, it’s about time you called. Where are you?”

  “Ms. Randall?” an unfamiliar voice said.

  Her short-lived relief altered to apprehension. “Y-yes?”

  “I am a nurse at Princess Alexandra Hospital. Mr. Morgan asked me to call you. He is all right, but he will be spending another day or two here. He has been beaten rather badly.”

  “Beaten?” She looked at Travis, who could follow just fine.

  “He asks that you come see him.”

  “Tell him we’ll be right there.” Raeleen ended the call and hurried to the front of the hotel to flag a cab.

  * * *

  With Travis searching their surroundings, Raeleen entered the hospital ahead of him. White walls with barely anything on them engulfed the beige information desk.

  “May I help you?” the woman sitting there asked.

  “I’m looking for Landon Morgan.”

  The woman searched on her computer and gave them the room.

  Raeleen and Travis navigated the hallways and took an elevator to the second floor.

  Finding the room, Raeleen entered and stifled a gasp, shock jolting her when she saw his condition. His head was bandaged, his leg in traction, and his face was so swollen she couldn’t recognize him. Too shaken to say anything, she allowed Travis to go in ahead of her. He took her hand, and she stood beside him at the bed.

  Landon didn’t open his eyes. He probably couldn’t, they were so swollen.

  “Landon?” she said.

  He stirred, but barely.

  “It’s Raeleen and Travis.”

  His mouth moved, quivered, and he struggled to breathe.

  Raeleen looked toward the door and then at Travis. “Should he be having visitors?”

  Landon’s weak grasp on her wrist brought her turning back to him. One of his eyes quivered like his mouth as he fought to keep it open a sliver. She felt helpless for him.

  “Landon. Oh, my God.” Tears burned her eyes. “Who did this to you?”

  “Th-they kn-know.” He swallowed and his breathing grew unsteady. His eye closed.

  “Stop trying to talk.” She turned back to Travis. “Go tell them he needs attention. He needs to be moved. He needs to be in the United States!”

  Travis only barely acknowledged her. He stepped closer to the bed, a man with a purpose. He leaned down on the opposite side, bringing his face close to Landon’s.

  “What do they know?”

  Was he heartless? “Landon needs better medical attention than this. Look at him!” She had to point with her left hand since Landon still gripped her right one weakly. “We have to get him out of here.”

  Landon squeezed her hand. “Roth.”

  Roth. Her father.

  “Whoever beat you knows my father?” As the implications of that settled, she looked up at Travis. He straightened with fierce eyes.

  “Who did this to you?” Travis repeated her earlier question.

  Landon slowly rolled his head from side to side. His attacker hadn’t revealed his identity. But it had to be whoever was behind Vivian’s and John’s murders.

  “He was beaten for information on you,” Travis said. “Deet’s wife arranged to have you kidnapped, and whoever killed her wanted to learn what made you so important.”

  She was important because she had been Deet’s lover. Vivian had tried to use her against him, but all of that paled in comparison to the discovery that she was Colonel Roth’s daughter. She was now a viable threat. She, and even more significant, the man who’d been sent to rescue her.

  “I’m...sorry,” Landon choked. “They made me...”

  “Don’t apologize.” She felt ill. She’d told John about her father and that he’d send someone for her, but he must not have revealed that to anyone. Landon had been forced to instead. It would almost be better if John had been the one to talk. Then she wouldn’t be looking at Landon beaten so badly. She felt ill.

  “I’m so sorry, Landon.” However he’d discovered her father was a colonel who operated his own military organization, it was her fault. She must have gotten careless.

  “R-Raeleen.” Landon’s chest rose and fell with stress. “I’m the one...who’s s-sorry. I...heard you...talking to him once. You...were angry...” He breathed raggedly.

  “It isn’t your fault.” She was angry with her father a lot. It wasn’t surprising that she’d said more than she should over the phone. One tear then another and a third fell out of her eyes. She leaned over him, making sure he understood. “It’s okay, Landon. I’m just so happy you’re alive.” She touched his cheek, careful not to hurt him. “I never liked what my dad did for a living, anyway.”

  He caught her joke because he laughed, but it cost him. He groaned in pain over and over again.

  Raeleen cringed and wished there was something she could do to help him. “We’re going to get you out of here. We’ll make sure you get the best treatment.”

  Landon writhed a little longer and then his one eye blinked and he nodded.

  “What are the people who did this to you after?” Travis asked.

  A new resolve radiated from him. Raeleen marveled over it while Landon rolled his head to look at Travis. “A...painting.” He breathed through his pain. “I...I don’t...remember anything else.”

  All of Travis’s energy zeroed in on her. “Where does Deet live?”

  He was going to take her there? All that take-charge dominance would normally set her off, but she found it incredibly sexy now.

  * * *

  Raeleen followed Travis out the front of the hospital. He didn’t stop walking until he spotted a cab and waved it to the curb. Seeing Landon beaten had lit a fire in him. He’d called Odie and told her to arrange to have Landon transported back to New York as soon as the airport was open. Now he was taking her along with him to hunt down Deet. She was thrilled.

  Vivian’s and John’s murders were one thing, but the moment an innocent was hurt, he’d switched into retaliation mode. This was the soldier that carried out dangerous TES missions. She should not enjoy the spectacle. This was something her father would do. It’s what kept him away from home so much. And because of Landon, she unabashedly cheered him on.

  Travis turned to her in the cab. “You’ll do exactly as I say when we get there.”

  She cocked her head at him. He was going to start with that again? What made him so overprotective, anyway? The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that there was a reason.

  “I’d take you back to the hotel, but I can’t be sure you’ll be safe there,” he said, cementing her conjecture. “You probably wouldn’t stay there, anyway.”

  “I’m not a do-as-you’re-told kind of girl,” she said, testing him. It wasn’t as though it was a lie. She didn’t like to take orders.

  “No kidding.”

  Is that what bothered him? He was afraid she wouldn’t do what he told her, that he would lose control of the situation and something would go terribly wrong? That could happen on any mission, so why was this one different?

  “I’m not
as fragile as you think, Travis.”

  “I don’t think you’re fragile.” He observed her entire body as though affirming his statement. “You’re anything but fragile.”

  “Then why do you always treat me like something will happen to me if I don’t do exactly as you say?” Why did he have to be in such rigid control?

  “I’m trained for this. You aren’t.”

  It had to be more than that. “It’s like you’re afraid of failing or something.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you, because I won’t let it.”

  That wasn’t good enough. “Have you ever failed on a mission before?”

  He stared at her. “Why are you asking me that now?”

  “Because now is the right time.” She’d hit on something. His reaction told her so. Something had happened to make him paranoid about protecting women he encountered on assignments. It wasn’t that he lacked confidence, he just put extra energy into it, as though he had to make extra sure nothing went wrong.

  “Pull over here,” he told the driver.

  “Have you?” She got out of the car and walked beside him down the sidewalk. She wasn’t going to let this drop.

  In his usual fashion, he surveyed their surroundings. “Not with TES.”

  She believed that. His vigilance was on overdrive. “But you have...before that?”

  He just kept walking, his long strides gobbling up the concrete, moving with agility that belied his size. Deet’s house wasn’t far from here. Up the street to the right, just outside downtown and close to his restaurant. His primary residence.

  “What happened?” There was something buried deep inside him that needed to come out. Otherwise, he’d always have this problem, and some day it might backfire on him. Just as she was sure he feared, he’d become too preoccupied with overprotecting his “package” and something would go wrong.

  He didn’t respond.

  A couple passed, the woman pointing to a clothing shop like she’d discovered gold, probably one of few that were open this soon after the hurricane. Cars were beginning to fill the streets.