Second-Chance Hero

by Justine Davis

  Grandchildren, Grace thought. Now there’s a scary thought. You really are getting old if you’re thinking about that.

  But even that didn’t bother her as much as it once had. Once she’d been confronted with the prospect of never growing old at all, the alternative seemed much more inviting.

  She heard the phone in the other room ring. With an effort she reeled in her thoughts and stood up.

  The ringing stopped. A moment later there was a tap on the door.

  “Grace?”

  Draven. She hadn’t even heard him come in. But then, she’d already seen that he could move quieter than a cat.

  “I heard it,” she said as she opened the door. He was standing there with the cordless handset, which he now held out to her.

  “It’s Nick,” he said.

  She nodded and took it. “Yes, Nick,” she said into the receiver.

  “We’ll be ready to start the first pour right after lunch.”

  She never missed this stage, and didn’t want to start now. She looked at Draven. “I need to be there.”

  He nodded, and she told Nick she would be there in an hour. When she’d disconnected, Draven took the phone from her.

  “You can do whatever you need to, go wherever you want now, as long as I’m with you. Buckley can handle Marly.”

  Her mouth quirked. “I’m sure he can.”

  She hadn’t really realized what his calling in Kieren meant as far as her own freedom was concerned. That it was going to make it possible for her to resume her normal work habits.

  At least, as normal as anything could get for her with John Draven glued to her.

  The images that brought to mind threatened to send her scampering back to her bedroom until the blush faded again. Not that her bedroom was the best place to go to quash her rowdy thoughts.

  “Lunch,” she said abruptly. “I’ve got some Caribbean jerk chicken in the fridge. Sandwich?”

  “You don’t have to cook for me.”

  She knew he meant it; she wasn’t sure what he did for meals, but he’d certainly never asked her.

  “I said fridge. No cooking involved. For which,” she added, “you should be grateful. My repertoire of edible food is limited, I’m afraid.”

  He gave her that half shrug she was starting to look at almost affectionately. “Nobody should be expected to build airports and cook, too.”

  She smiled at that, and decided to just fix the sandwiches. A few minutes later she had two rolls piled high with the local concoction of meat rubbed with spices, and “jerked” apart rather than cut into tidy slices. She’d grown to enjoy the particular blend that was available in Matola City, a recipe from Mr. Ayuso’s mother.

  That thought reminded her of Marly’s escapade in the man’s store, and something else she had wanted to say. She put the plates on the table, added a couple of glasses of lemonade and sat down, gesturing at Draven to join her. When he did, and had taken a bite, she spoke.

  “I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked after he’d swallowed.

  “Everything. But right now, for Marly. Keeping her out of any further trouble.”

  The shrug again.

  “I’ve been able to concentrate on my work better, not having to worry about her.” She didn’t mention the new distraction he himself was providing.

  “Should be easier now, with Buckley.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for that, too. I appreciate the one-on-one for her.”

  He looked at her over the sandwich. “But not for you?”

  She lowered her gaze to her own sandwich, still on the plate. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Having a bodyguard is tougher than being one.”

  She’d never thought about it that way. But then, she’d never really thought about it at all. At least, not in reference to herself.

  “Anyway, thanks for bringing him.”

  Again the shrug. “I can’t do the other part of my job and keep both of you safe, too.”

  “Find who’s sabotaging us.”

  He nodded.

  She hadn’t thought of that. “I guess you haven’t had much chance to work on that,” she said.

  “It’s not at the top of the list.”

  She knew what Josh Redstone’s priorities were. “Redstone people ever and always first,” she quoted.

  Draven nodded. “Doing what official or government agencies are supposed to handle comes in after all that, although Josh has no problem with us helping out if requested or needed. Of course, if somebody hurts one of his own, all bets are off.”

  Josh himself had told her that, when he’d first hired her. For the first time in a very long time, she’d felt part of a family, as if there were people she’d not even met yet who cared about her and would help if she needed them.

  As Draven had. And still was.

  “I meant what I said, about the earthquake,” she said quietly. “I owe you my life.”

  “You owe me nothing.”

  “Same to you,” she said.

  His brows furrowed. “What?”

  “You don’t owe me anything. Most especially feeling haunted, whether it’s ugly memories or horrible dreams.”

  He stared at her, for the first time since she’d known him an expression of surprise breaking through. She’d nailed it, she thought.

  “They are ugly. And horrible,” he said, surprising her in turn with the admission. “And I don’t know why. I’ve seen worse, done things like that a dozen times. But you…”

  He trailed off, and she wondered what he’d been going to say. “I what?”

  For a long moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. It was obvious he was battling, whether to speak or stop himself from speaking she didn’t know.

  “You were the worst,” he finally said. “Having to hurt you.”

  “Why?”

  This time the shrug annoyed her.

  “You had to have done other things that made you feel that way,” she said.

  “Once.” He stopped, and she waited, hoping her silence would work as it had before. Finally he continued. “When I had to tell Josh his big brother—and my closest friend—had died in my arms in the Gulf.”

  Grace blinked. This was a story she’d never heard. “Josh’s brother?”

  “We were on a recon mission. He was leading. Land mine.”

  The short, brusque words told her as much about his remembered pain as they did about what had happened. And his expression was odd, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was talking about this.

  Or perhaps, that he was talking about it to her.

  “And that’s how you met Josh?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I tracked him down at the little airport Jim told me he hung out at. Told him. Stayed awhile, to make sure he was okay. Saw the way he was building Redstone. When I left the service, he offered me a job.”

  “And you’ve been with him ever since.”

  He nodded. Then, abruptly, he asked, “What about your own ugly memories and bad dreams?”

  As a diversion, it was pretty blatant, but she let it pass. He’d already opened up more than she’d ever seen before.

  “I still have them,” she answered. “Fewer, farther between, but just as awful when they hit. I don’t think you spend that long thinking you’re going to die without it leaving some permanent scars.”

  “You don’t. The fact that you’re functioning at all is amazing.”

  “I don’t feel amazing,” she said frankly.

  “You are,” he said.

  Grace fought down the sudden image that hit her, of him saying she was amazing in another context altogether. A very personal, intimate context.

  At least one thing, she thought, there wouldn’t be any surprises. He knows exactly what happened to me, and what’s missing.

  She gave herself a mental shake; thoughts like that were not going to help any. She grasped for something else, anything else, to talk about.

  “Some
times,” she said, “I feel like I haven’t really dealt with it at all. I fight so hard not to let the memories swamp me. Maybe I shouldn’t.”

  “What do you think dealing with it is, except getting control over it?”

  Lured by this unexpected openness, she asked, “Have you ever…felt that way? Swamped?”

  He went very still.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “That was a silly question. You’re John Draven, you’re always in control.”

  The sound that burst from him then was an oddly twisted combination of pained laughter and disgust.

  “You know what I did, before I came here? I quit.”

  She drew back, staring at him. “You what?”

  “I quit Redstone. I handed Josh my resignation.”

  John Draven quitting Redstone? That would be second only to St. John leaving, or even Josh himself.

  “Why?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

  He shook his head, clearly wishing he hadn’t let it slip out.

  “Why would you leave Josh?”

  He swore under his breath. “He asked me the same thing. I didn’t know…how that would feel for him to ask that.”

  “Why?” she asked again.

  Again he didn’t answer.

  “There has to be a good reason. You wouldn’t do it unless there was. You quit because…?”

  “Because I can’t trust myself anymore!”

  The words burst from him as if on a torrent of pain, a rush of emotion she was certain he didn’t often release. It seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the air, and she had to draw in a deep breath. He wasn’t looking at her, in fact was obviously avoiding meeting her gaze, as if it would be too painful to look at another human being and see their reaction to that reluctant exclamation.

  “Can’t trust yourself?”

  “I’ve lost it,” he said, his tone almost bitter. “Fine thing to say to somebody I’m supposed to protect, but, damn it, it’s true. Mr. Cool-and-Controlled can’t hang on to his temper anymore.”

  Her forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. My fuse isn’t just short, it doesn’t exist. The slightest thing sets me off.”

  “Everybody has days like that.”

  He grimaced. “Days I could handle. This has been months.”

  “Maybe you’re just tired. If you usually go without sleep the way you have here, you can’t help but be.”

  “When it interferes with the job, the reason for it doesn’t matter.”

  She frowned. “But it hasn’t interfered. You haven’t lost your temper here.”

  “Barely,” he muttered.

  “Does that matter, as long as you haven’t?” she asked, echoing his words back at him. “Besides, if you know you’re on a short fuse, you’ll be on guard about it. You’re probably safer from losing it now than ever.”

  He stared at her, as if having trouble absorbing her words. She took advantage of his silence to rise and go wrap the second half of her sandwich; she’d made it far too large. And she wanted him to think about what she’d said; it was surprisingly painful to think of this solid, strong man of such legendary cool doubting himself.

  She turned to go get her glass to wash, and literally collided with him. Again with that catlike silence, he’d gotten up to bring his plate and glass to the sink.

  A little breathless, she reached for the dishes. At the same moment he leaned forward to set them on the counter. She sucked in her breath as they touched once again.

  His hands went to her shoulders, as if to steady her, and she wondered if she was really as wobbly as she suddenly felt. And then his fingers tightened, hot and hard on her flesh.

  “Grace,” he said, his voice gone so low and rough it sent a shiver down her spine.

  And then he kissed her.

  Chapter 16

  He should have known.

  The alarms had gone off in his head even louder than the trip wires outside when he’d found himself telling this woman whatever she wanted to know. It had felt like a compulsion, one he didn’t even know the source of but that he knew he couldn’t ignore. And so it poured out, admissions, pain, feelings he rarely admitted he had to himself, let alone someone else.

  Let alone to a woman, especially one he was attracted to. If you could call the fire and fury he was feeling mere attraction.

  He’d done quite well at ignoring those alarms, however. Showing once more how out of control he really was. And if he hadn’t been sure, the fire that surged in him the moment his lips touched hers would have seared the knowledge into his brain.

  He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It hadn’t even been in his mind. Which was, perhaps, the problem. The urge had arisen out of some deep, primal need, and seemed to have bypassed his brain altogether. And the next thing he knew he was looking down into those incredible eyes of hers, and unable to stop himself.

  It was all he could do to keep from ravaging her mouth. It had been so long, and she was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted in his life. Warm and honey-rich, her lips softened beneath his, and if some part of his mind was startled that she didn’t resist, he ignored that, too.

  Not only could he not stop, he wanted more. He wanted it longer, hotter, deeper, and nearly shook with the effort to not overpower her and take what he needed so badly. But even as he thought it he realized overpower wasn’t the word, that you didn’t have to overpower someone who wasn’t fighting back.

  She wasn’t fighting.

  She wasn’t fighting, or even protesting, in fact she was accepting, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. Of course, why would a woman like Grace ever be surprised that any man was hungry to kiss her?

  “Draven,” she whispered against his mouth.

  He drew back slightly. “All things considered,” he said, “I think you should call me John.”

  And that in itself should have been a warning, but he ignored it. He reclaimed her mouth, and his hands slipped up to cup the back of her head, to steady her as he deepened the kiss. He felt a shiver of anticipation at the thought of exploring her thoroughly, endlessly. There wasn’t a part of her he didn’t want to—

  The thump of feet on the outside steps sounded like an invasion in the suddenly heated silence. He felt Grace stiffen. With an effort as big as any he’d ever made in his life he did what he knew he had to. He tore his mouth away from those sweet, too-tempting lips.

  A split second before the door swung open he made his unwilling hands follow suit and release her. They barely had time to separate before Marly marched in.

  Thankfully she appeared too wrapped up in her own agenda to notice anything else. She spotted them in the kitchen, marched—there really was no other word for it—over to them and took a confrontational stance, her hands on her hips and her eyes heated.

  When she spoke, her voice was just as angry as her gaze and body language. And it was directed at him.

  “I don’t need a babysitter, y’know, and I think it really sucks that you told Kieren I did.”

  They were apparently, he noted, already on a first name basis. That part of his plan had worked, at least. As to this part, this unexpected attack, he wasn’t at all sure what to do. Which seemed to be a regular state of affairs for him when it came to Marly.

  “It was just a phrase,” he began, but she wasn’t buying.

  “Sure. He’s just about the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, and you tell him to watch me like I’m some sort of child.”

  “I told him to watch you like you’re possibly in danger,” he retorted, “which is the truth.”

  “Babysitting,” she insisted.

  “Did he say something to make you feel that way?”

  “Kieren? No, of course not. He would never make me feel like such a baby.”

  The inference that he would was unmistakable, and Draven smothered a sigh.

  “We’re going for a walk,” Marly said, with an emphasis on the first word that made it clear she was already thinking of herself and
Buckley as “we.” “I’m going to show Kieren where everything is.”

  Without waiting for any assent or approval, she turned on her heel and marched out in much the same way as she’d marched in.

  Draven watched the girl go, telling himself it was a good thing she’d come in when she had. He wasn’t at all sure he could have stopped himself if she hadn’t. But that she had, and the way she had, brought home to him once more that whatever he might feel, and even if Grace was willing to settle for what little he could give, he didn’t think he could deal with Marly on a regular basis.

  “Well, he’s certainly charmed her,” Grace said shakily.

  “Yeah. It’s me who can’t deal with her.”

  “You did fine. You usually do with her. Besides, that wasn’t really aimed at you, she was just embarrassed and striking out.”

  He shook his head. “I never know what to say to her.”

  Grace laughed. “You think I do? This whole parenting thing is a seat-of-the-pants kind of flying.”

  He shook his head again, more slowly. “I couldn’t do it. Not every day, like you do. It would drive me crazy.”

  She went very quiet, the laugh vanishing, and taking the accompanying smile with it. He felt suddenly bereft, and wasn’t quite sure what had happened.

  “I understand,” she said, her voice as cool as the change in her expression. “It’s a rare man who’s willing to take on a child that isn’t his. I don’t think the man willing to take on Marly at this difficult stage of life even exists.”

  Draven had no idea what he should say to a statement like that, so kept silent. Her expression changed subtly, as if from pain, or maybe resignation. And when she spoke again, her voice was brisk and businesslike.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go change to go to the site.”

  She left him standing there, staring after her, troubled for reasons he didn’t even begin to understand.

  Two days later he was watching Grace watch the crew frame the walls of the small control tower building when his cell phone rang.

  “Draven.”

  “Two possibles matching your partial plate registered with addresses on the island.”