Second-Chance Hero

by Justine Davis

  He lowered his eyes then, staring into his coffee cup. She thought she heard a breath escape him. This was more emotion than she’d ever seen from the man, and it was rattling her almost as much as it was apparently rattling him. She took another deep breath and let the words unroll.

  “I can’t say I don’t have painful memories, that you’re not connected to them. No, I’m not the same woman I was, and perhaps there’s not a man on the planet who can look past the physical change, but that’s all right. I don’t need that. I love my work, my daughter and my life. That’s more than many have. And it’s thanks to you that I have any of it. So I wanted you to know how grateful I am.”

  He was looking at her as if shell-shocked. His expression alone told her how much he had assumed about what she felt about what he’d had to do. If she’d realized, she would have done this much sooner.

  And it both amazed her and gave her hope that it had been her little girl who had figured it out.

  Draven went from camera three to camera four, checking for any problems. This was his second trip, because he didn’t trust himself. He’d made two circuits of the perimeter, too, because he’d repeatedly caught himself off in the ozone somewhere, and right now he didn’t trust his autopilot.

  He wasn’t often shocked. Or stunned. Grace O’Conner had done both.

  Hell, she’d blown him away.

  He knew he would never forget the way she’d stood there and given him total absolution. His head had known what she’d said was true; it had been the only thing to do, but he had never expected her to see it that way. He’d expected to be the star in her nightmares for the rest of her life.

  When she’d seemed to relax a little around him, he’d assumed it was simply practice, that since he’d practically taken up residence she’d gotten used to him. He’d never considered that she actually might not hate him for what had happened that day in Turkey.

  And now he was reeling. Because now, without the buffer of the negative feelings he’d assumed she had, he had to admit she’d gotten to him. Gotten to him as no one ever had, in a very personal way.

  He stopped in his tracks as a stunning thought hit him. Once again what Josh had said came back to him. Handle whatever you find—no matter what it is.

  Draven had thought at the time there’d been an odd sort of emphasis on those particular words. He hadn’t known why then, but now he was wondering if somehow, in that amazing way Josh had of reading people, he’d known something. If he’d sent Draven here on purpose, knowing Grace was here. If he’d sent him here to deal with the demons he hadn’t even known the source of himself. If that was what Josh had meant when he’d said only he could handle this.

  He wouldn’t put it past his boss to have done just that. It was just the kind of thing Josh Redstone would do. He’d have to have a word with him when he finished here. Asking him for help was one thing, manipulating him was something else again, something he didn’t take kindly to.

  He filed away the notion and went back to work. He checked the mount on the camera closest to the water, making sure it wasn’t damaged from the salt spray and air. He gave it much more attention than necessary, trying to divert his thoughts. He felt as if his mind was working at triple speed, as if too many thoughts and images were careening around inside his skull, bouncing off each other and the walls and never slowing down enough for him to catch and process them.

  He was not used to feeling like this. About anything. That it was a woman shook him. He’d been attracted to women over the years, had occasionally acted on the feeling. But the bottom line was still that he’d never met a woman he couldn’t leave behind.

  And I sure as hell don’t want to start now, he thought. Especially a woman with a child he could barely deal with.

  As if any woman would take you on in the first place, he reminded himself.

  The two serious relationships—God, he hated that word—he’d ever had had both ended for the same reason: neither woman could deal with his work. Whether it was the work itself, and the demands it made, or the fact that it was his first priority, he didn’t know. Probably both, he thought as he finally moved on to the next camera.

  Or maybe it was simply him. There was no denying he was no prize for any woman. He had few illusions about himself. He knew he was a loner, a hard case, blunt, pragmatic to the extreme, with far too many rough edges. And his job meant long hours and lots of travel, was sometimes risky and a few times deadly.

  But above all, he knew he didn’t have a romantic bone in his battle-scarred body. And Grace deserved the exact opposite of all he was—and wasn’t. She was gutsy, smart and beautiful, and many other things he admired. More woman than a man like him had any right to.

  He nearly groaned that he was even thinking about such things. But how could he not, after what she’d said?

  …perhaps there’s not a man on the planet who can look past the physical change.

  Didn’t she know how beautiful she was? Still was, no matter what had happened? Didn’t she know that her missing foot was nothing when the rest was so beautiful and the brain was quick and sharp enough to keep any man working all the time just to keep up? That her courage dealing with what had happened to her made her even more incredible, more sexy?

  Heat shot through him, a stabbing, piercing claw making his body clench until he almost doubled over. He nearly gasped at the force of it. It had been a very, very long time since he’d wanted, truly wanted. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted like this. And was even less sure that he was going to be able to keep it under control. He had the feeling he was going to be glad there was a teenager around to force him to keep a leash on this ferocious need. Because he had to keep it leashed. Just because she’d forgiven him didn’t mean Grace would have any interest at all in getting involved with the chaos that was his life. And his mind. And the emotions he didn’t want to admit to even having.

  Yeah, you’re a pretty messed up package, he thought wryly.

  He forced himself to pay attention to the matter at hand. He needed to be doubly sure everything was in place and working. Whoever it was, Draven didn’t think their culprit was going to give up easily.

  He wanted to adjust the outer perimeter cams; the recorded visuals at the time of the alarm trip had shown only a shadowy figure with some sort of hat pulled down and hiding his features. When he’d tripped the wire and the alarm sounded, he’d jumped, startled, and the hat had flown off. He’d grabbed it and run, which was why he was already getting into the car when Draven had gotten there.

  He might need to install some floods, at least on the perimeter cams, he thought. The extra light would have made this guy plainly visible. He’d have somebody send them out. If he’d thought of it earlier, he could have had them come along with the other delivery he was expecting.

  Which reminded him to check the time, and he glanced at his watch. The boat should be reaching them any time now. He picked up the pace and finished his inspection, better able to concentrate now that he had a reason to hustle. Then he headed down to the dock.

  He wanted to make this pickup himself, so he could go over the situation thoroughly, but didn’t want to leave Grace and Marly unguarded for too long. With a little luck, no one else would notice the arrival for a while, and he could still get the briefing done.

  When he was within sight of the cove, he saw that Jorge Nunez and his offshore racer were already in sight. By the time he got down to the pier, the powerful boat had slowed and was sliding neatly toward the docking area. Draven walked down to meet it, and when Nunez tossed him the mooring lines, he tied them neatly off on the cleats bolted to the pier decking.

  Nunez waved as his passenger bent to grab up a duffel bag that looked much like Draven’s own.

  “On my way to Ambergris,” the man in the captain’s hat said, referring to Ambergris Cay, the largest and most developed island off Belize’s coast.

  “I have a charter out to the reef. A load of divers, very rich,” Nunez add
ed with a grin.

  That would make it a profitable afternoon, Draven thought; Belize’s reef was the second largest in the world, after Australia, and you could spend hours there without realizing. He nodded in understanding that the man was, for once, on a schedule, but kept his eyes on the young man who tossed the duffel bag onto the pier and leapt fairly agilely up after it.

  Once he was on the pier, Draven freed the bowline. Without prompting, the young man did the same with the stern. Nunez waved again and was off, leaving a swirling wake behind him and kicking up a rooster tail of spray to mark his course.

  The new arrival held out his hand. “Mr. Draven.”

  Draven shook hands briefly, noting the grip was strong but not challenging.

  Kieren Buckley looked much as Draven had remembered from his Redstone interview. Only slightly shorter than he himself, lean but muscular, with sandy-brown hair he wore in a buzz cut that reminded Draven of his own service days. He had the small goatee that seemed to come standard with twentysomethings these days, sparse enough that Draven thought he’d look better without it.

  But what Draven had noticed first about him was his eyes. Not the color, which was an amber sort of brown, but the calm alertness in them, and in his entire stance. He’d clearly been nervous about the interview, but he’d met Draven’s eyes steadily, and that was a make or break point with the head of Redstone Security.

  “You made good time,” Draven said.

  “Yes, sir. Went like clockwork.”

  “Redstone,” Draven answered simply.

  “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.”

  “You finish reading the file?”

  He nodded. “On the plane.”

  “Good. Ready?”

  “Absolutely. Thanks for asking for me.”

  Draven gave him a sideways look. “St. John tell you what the job was?”

  Buckley nodded.

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “No, sir. I’m sure there’s a reason, or you wouldn’t be asking.”

  He could have been sucking up, but Draven didn’t think so. And Redstone people always got the benefit of the doubt, even the new ones.

  “Doesn’t hurt to be in paradise, either?” Draven suggested.

  Buckley shrugged. “I’m a cool-weather, mountain kind of guy myself, but this is nice for a change. What’s the setup here?”

  “Redstone owns the south two-thirds of the island. Matola City, such as it is, is about two miles north. At the far north tip of the cay is a guy you’ll need to know about, but we’ll get into that later.”

  Buckley nodded. “What’s first?”

  Draven’s mouth quirked. “You meet the family,” he said. “I’ll fill you in as we go.”

  He led the way, giving Buckley the layout of the site as they went, pointing out the various work and storage areas, and the construction trailer. He told him about the situation up until now, including Grace’s close encounter with the enemy.

  “She’s the one who got hurt in that earthquake in Turkey, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Draven said succinctly.

  “I heard about her. Guess she’s one tough lady.”

  You don’t know the half of it, kid. “She is,” he said.

  When they got to the motor home, he knocked. Marly pulled open the door.

  “Mom’s in the…”

  Her voice trailed away as she spotted the man with him. Her young face betrayed her every thought as she gaped at the handsome young man.

  That should keep you occupied, young lady, Draven thought, with no small amount of satisfaction that his choice had had the desired effect. He’d figured a girl Marly’s age couldn’t help but react like this to the good-looking kid only ten years older than she was. When he’d made the call to Redstone headquarters, he’d intended to just let St. John decide who to send, but then he’d remembered the young man he’d personally interviewed, and made his own selection.

  “Hi,” Buckley said. “You must be Marly.”

  Apparently dumbstruck, the girl just stared at him. Finally she managed to nod.

  Buckley jerked a thumb at Draven. “He didn’t tell me you were cute.”

  The girl’s color deepened and her eyes went even wider. Smooth, Draven thought. This just might work better than I’d even hoped.

  “I…what…who are you?” Marly finally managed to ask.

  “I’m Kieren Buckley,” he said cheerfully, with a grin that made the girl blush. “I’m your new babysitter.”

  Chapter 15

  “He’s what?” Grace asked.

  “He’s going to watch out for Marly. She’s his only assignment.”

  Grace looked dubiously at the young man her daughter was talking to so fervently, a few yards away. To her he looked barely older than the fourteen-year-old herself.

  “What is he? Sixteen?”

  Draven’s mouth quirked. Either he was relaxing, Grace thought, or she really was learning to read his slight expression changes.

  “He’s twenty-four,” he said.

  She barely managed not to gape at him. “Twenty-four? That’s twenty-four?” She felt ancient, looking at him and realizing he was ten years older than Marly.

  “The older you get, the younger they look,” Draven said as if he’d read her thoughts. She couldn’t tell if he’d been teasing or simply voicing an observation; his voice was deadpan, as was his face.

  “He’s a trained Redstone agent,” Draven said, obviously trying to reassure her. “And if it makes you feel better, he was also a cop in L.A. for a couple of years.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  “That’s his to share or not. I can only tell you it wasn’t anything negative. He wasn’t fired, asked to leave or guilty of any misconduct.”

  “Oh.” She eyed the new arrival warily, then looked back at Draven. “I can trust him with her?”

  “You can.”

  “You know what I mean?” she asked, not certain if he understood all the ramifications of entrusting a fourteen-year-old girl to a young man she’d never met. A very handsome young man.

  “Yes. He’s completely trustworthy. In all areas.”

  She considered this for a moment. Then realized if Kieren Buckley was Redstone security, he’d been vetted within an inch of his life. The L.A.P.D. background check likely paled in comparison to what Redstone put him through.

  She looked over at the pair again, thinking she’d never seen her daughter blush so much. And she was actually giggling. Marly was not just laughing, but giggling, in a girly sort of way Grace couldn’t remember ever having heard from her daughter before.

  Grace’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “He’s too darn cute. Every adolescent girl’s dream. She’s going to get a crush on him.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Grace’s head snapped around. “What?”

  “I’m counting on it,” he repeated. “Better chance she’ll cooperate, stay with him.”

  Grace stared at him. “And stay safe,” she said softly.

  He nodded.

  She shook her head in wonder. “Don’t ever tell me again you don’t understand teenagers.”

  “I don’t. But I’ve seen the reaction he gets.”

  “From girls?”

  “Women, too.”

  She glanced back over at the two, this time studying Kieren’s perfect features. “Too pretty for me,” she said.

  When she turned back, Draven was studying her intently. She felt a blush rising to her own cheeks as she realized that could have been interpreted as expressing a preference for more rugged looks.

  Looks, for example, like his.

  Well, it’s true, she admitted inwardly. You’ve never been attracted to the pretty ones.

  And Draven was many things; strong, powerful, mysterious, scarred, competent and tough, but there was no way you could call him pretty. Not even good-looking, that was too bland. He was much more than that.

  She thought for a moment, trying to co
me up with the right word, and nearly blushed again when the only term that came to mind was magnificent. But she wasn’t sure that wasn’t the perfect description.

  “I would give a great deal,” he said in a voice so soft it wouldn’t carry beyond her ears, “to know what you’re thinking right now.”

  Caught, Grace lost the battle with the rising blush, and felt the heat of color flood her face.

  With the blunt honesty that sometimes got her into trouble, she muttered the only thing she could think of to say. “And I’d give more for you not to know.”

  She got up then, and hastily went back inside the motor home before he could say anything that would embarrass her further.

  If that was possible, she thought ruefully.

  She retreated to the bedroom and sat on the small, built-in settee that served as a chair, and in her case, too often a clothes basket. She wasn’t surprised to realize she was trembling slightly.

  She felt as if her world were spinning out of control. She was in danger, and because of that Marly was in danger, too. Yet she felt safe, protected, because of Draven. That she owed that feeling of shelter to the man who was connected to the worst nightmare of her life was an irony she didn’t have the slightest idea how to deal with.

  She had even less idea of how to deal with the fact she could no longer deny. She was attracted to him. Attracted in a way she’d thought herself long past, even before the damage to her body. Attracted in the way her pain and panic-racked body had responded in the first moment she’d looked up out of the rubble and seen him, in the way her mind had labeled him a harshly beautiful angel come to save her. Before the encounter had turned to torment.

  She’d been truly surprised to find out Marly’s guess had been right, and he’d expected her to hate him for what he’d had to do that day. And she’d meant every word she’d said, that she knew and believed he’d done what had to be done, and she was grateful. Grateful that she would see her daughter grow up, go to school, hopefully find her passion in life. Maybe marry someday, perhaps even have children of her own.