Undaunted

by Joss Wood

  “She’s a wonderful housemate,” Flick stated, sending Pippa a loving look. “Calm, drama-free, and she never gossips or interferes.” Flick tipped her head and looked at Reagan. “What type of roommate are you?”

  Reagan lifted her hands and looked at Axl, not sure what to say. Axl touched her back again and this time his hand felt comforting, encouraging. “Well, I’m neat,” she said, shrugging. “Quiet. I don’t gossip either, not that I know anyone in Mercy to gossip about.” Reagan felt five sets of eyes on her and felt like she was under a spotlight, being judged. “I have a gun and know self-defense, so if there was an intruder, I could probably see him off.”

  There were a couple of snorts of laughter but none, Reagan noticed, from Flick or Pippa. They just looked at her, their faces showing no judgment. Pippa drained her wineglass, asked Jack for another one, and looked at Reagan again. “Chocolate or potato chips?”

  Um . . . what? “Yes to both.”

  “Wine?” Flick demanded.

  “God, yes,” Reagan answered.

  “Will you be bringing home any stray animals on a regular basis? Men or the furry kind?” Pippa asked. She slid Flick a mocking glance, which Flick returned with a scowl. “That’s Flick’s favorite thing to do.”

  “I only brought one man home—”

  Kai lifted her hand, pointing to the flashing diamond on Flick’s ring finger. “And I’m not a stray.”

  Pippa sent him a fond smile. “You really aren’t, and I’ll love you forever for making Flick so happy. Of course, if you hurt her in any way, I’ll also break your kneecaps with a baseball bat,” Pippa cheerfully told him before returning her attention to Reagan. “Flick was always bringing home lost and hurt animals, kittens, puppies, a lost parrot once.”

  “I was ten!” Flick protested.

  “That parrot could swear,” Jack said, his forearms on the bar, listening to their conversation. “Its every second word was the f-bomb. We were all shocked to learn that it belonged to Miss Greenwood.”

  “Miss G? The old bat who lives across the road from me?” Kai asked, shocked. “Seriously?”

  Sawyer nodded. “Apparently it belonged to her brother who served in ’Nam and who was a serious reprobate. She inherited it from him when he died. She took about four months to claim the parrot from Flick.”

  Flick’s eyes turned sad. “And she only admitted it was hers because she came to visit and Andy dropped a couple of f-bombs into the conversation. Miss G thought it was her moral duty to remove the foulmouthed bird. We didn’t want her to take Burt back. Andy loved that parrot and he spent a lot of time trying to teach him new phrases.”

  “Damn skippy was one of them,” Jack added.

  “Eat my shorts,” Sawyer said.

  “You be tripping, fool,” Flick said in a deep voice. She saw Reagan’s confusion and explained. “My brother Andy died when I was a kid, he was ten, I was twelve.”

  “Sorry,” Reagan said, knowing that it was such a small word for such a major event. But it was all she had and she knew, from experience, that there wasn’t anything more to say. Grief was so very private, so individualistic, and something you carried alone.

  “Anyway, the point is . . .” Pippa said, bringing the conversation back on track, “are you going to be bringing a parrot home, Reagan?”

  “No. No to puppies, kittens, and men of any kind,” Reagan answered her.

  “You might have to renegotiate that clause,” Axl said, his voice just low enough for her to hear.

  “You might have to stop listening to those voices in your head,” Reagan shot back. “We are not going to sleep together, Rhodes!”

  “Might be a good idea . . . you know, just to get it out of our systems.”

  Reagan narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth at him. He made it sound like she was a virus, something he needed to expel. So romantic. Not. Axl caught her displeasure and rubbed the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

  “No shit.” Reagan tossed her hair. “It’s not going to happen, Axl.”

  “You talk as if we have a choice,” Axl murmured. “Get us alone and I’m telling you, Hudson, your clothes are coming off.”

  “But why?” Reagan wailed, not noticing that the rest of the group was listening in to their conversation, utterly mesmerized. “Why now?”

  “God knows,” Axl replied, throwing up his hands. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “And we’re adults, and as a race we were given free will. Let’s try and exercise that,” Reagan suggested.

  Muffled laughter made her realize that they had an audience and heat crept up her face. She never blushed, but whenever she was around Axl, things like blushing and wet panties and butterflies in her stomach regularly happened. Bloody man.

  “Oh, great, she made it,” Sawyer said, and she and Axl were forgotten, thank God! Reagan turned and looked toward the door where a slim woman with blue-black hair, pulled into a loose knot on top of her head, shrugged out of her thigh-length coat. She wore a long-sleeved minidress in swirls of black and yellow and gray over black opaque stockings and ankle boots. Sawyer lifted his hand and Reagan turned back to pick up her drink, her eyes skimming Pippa’s face. Reagan frowned and went back for another look. Pippa’s bottom lip was between her teeth and she closed her eyes, as if fighting a wave of pain.

  Because Sawyer was looking at an attractive woman? If Pippa felt that way about Sawyer, if she had any feelings for him, then she had all of Reagan’s sympathy. Sawyer’s idea of commitment was a one-night stand and he was reputed to be Mercy’s resident stud.

  There was nothing worse than having feelings for someone who never saw you, Reagan thought. She’d lived with the feeling her entire life and she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around Pippa—strange for her since she wasn’t big on physical affection—and give her a massive hug.

  Sawyer walked over to the woman, spent a couple of minutes talking to her before placing his hand on her back and guiding her toward where they all sat. Kai and Axl stood up and Reagan noticed that most of the men in the bar, including Jack, watched her sensuous walk across the crowded bar. She didn’t blame them, she was stunning.

  “Guys, this is CJ Carmichael. She’s the private investigator I hired to try and help us with the Callow situation.” Sawyer introduced his partners, Flick, and Kai, and then turned to Reagan. “This is Reagan Hudson—”

  CJ smiled at Reagan, her deep violet-blue eyes warm and friendly. “You pulled that little boy out of the fire.”

  Reagan placed her hand in her outstretched one and squeezed, instantly liking the PI. “Hi.”

  “CJ,” Jack said, slowly straightening. Reagan was surprised to see the tremor in his fingers, his suddenly tense shoulders. Jack was Mr. Cool-and-Collected, yet this woman, this stranger, made him feel jumpy. Strange.

  Jack gestured to the wall of drinks behind him. “What can I get you?” he asked.

  CJ shook her head and a curl fell from her top knot and bounced against her cheek. Jack seemed to be fascinated by it. “Uh . . . nothing, thanks. I’m not staying. I had a . . . uh, long flight and I’m whipped.” She turned back to Sawyer. “I just dropped in to say hi, to meet you all. Maybe we can meet in the morning and I can update you on what I’ve found, which is, I have to tell you, next to nothing.”

  “Nine at Caswallawn?” Sawyer suggested.

  “Sounds good.”

  CJ told them that it was nice to meet them, sent Jack another uncertain look, and said good night. When she was out of hearing, Reagan turned back to Pippa, thinking that she’d like to see her house, that moving in with Pippa seemed like a reasonable option. “I’m not on duty in the morning so I could pop by and take a look at the house,” she suggested.

  “Sure,” Pippa quickly agreed. “Are you attending the meeting?”

  Since Sawyer had accompanied CJ
to the door, Reagan looked at Kai and Axl, silently asking whether she should be there. Kai nodded his head and Axl tapped her back with his hand. “Yeah. Be there.”

  Reagan nodded and lifted her eyebrows at Pippa.

  “You can either meet me there before nine or after, either would work. I have to go by my mom’s house on Willow Road, Tally wants me to take a look at something she’s found in the heap of junk, so maybe we should meet at eight?”

  “Works for me,” Reagan answered before cocking her head. “Heap of junk?”

  Pippa scowled. “Check the Mercy OnLine Forum, it’s old news. My mother, the First Lady of Mercy, is a chronic hoarder and half her house is filled with crap. She’s in the hospital and it’s now my job to decide what the hell to do with her junk.”

  Sawyer approached and heard her hot statement. “We’ll help you sort the house out, Pips.”

  Pippa sent him a look that seared him from the inside out. “Are you sure you have time for me . . . that? I know how busy you are juggling your women.”

  Sawyer’s eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw ticked. Sawyer was so easygoing, so calm that it was a surprise to see him angry, to see the temper flash in his eyes.

  “Low blow, Pips,” Flick murmured.

  It was, Reagan acknowledged, but she also knew that sometimes the mouth ran away when the heart was hurting. She wouldn’t judge. Sawyer and Pippa were old friends and were adults, they could sort out their own shit. Reagan, suddenly feeling exhausted, turned around and waited until Jack caught her eye.

  “Hey, gorgeous. What can I give you?” Jake asked, his aquamarine eyes, Flick’s eyes, twinkling. “Another drink? Dinner? My hand in marriage?”

  Reagan had to laugh. He was such an accomplished flirt. But she suspected that charming her had little to do with her and everything to do with CJ and the fact that she’d just rocked Jack’s world. Flirting with her was just a way to rebalance his scales, to negate CJ’s effect on him. “Just another wine; I’ll think about the other options.”

  “You let me know,” Jack said, pushing her wineglass back across the bar. He looked at Axl, grinned again, and tapped the back of her hand with his index finger. “You have my number, right?”

  Reagan, enjoying his easy charm, shook her head as she lifted her glass to her mouth. “If I decide to marry you, I’ll just call you here, at the bar.”

  Jack grinned, flashing white teeth. “You do that. I’m always around.”

  Reagan laughed, turned around, and looked at Axl. He scowled. “I’m taking a walk. Try not to get hitched while I’m gone.”

  ***

  Axl stomped his way through the bar, keeping his eye on Jack, who was making his way down the bar toward the door that led to the kitchen at the back of the bar. When Jack disappeared through the door, Axl walked down the short passage to the restrooms and tested the handle of the door marked Staff Only. It was locked, as he expected it to be. Seeing that the passage was currently unoccupied, he pulled out his wallet and a thin sliver of metal from the lining. It was not only a brilliant lock pick, in the right hands it was also a weapon. A well-placed jab could hit the heart, the carotid artery, an eye. But, mostly, it was a great way to open doors that were between him and his goal. Axl slipped through the door, ignored the kitchen staff, and walked directly to Jack’s office, opening the door without knocking.

  Jack looked at his watch and then back to him. “Three minutes, not bad. Not great but not bad.”

  Axl leaned his shoulder into the doorframe and frowned. “I didn’t realize that it was a test.”

  Jack sat on the edge of his desk and stretched out his long legs. The guy was in excellent physical condition and he’d be hell in a fight. He could take him but not without Jack doing some damage.

  “So, you and Reagan,” Jack said.

  “There isn’t a Reagan and I.”

  Jack’s lips twitched. “Then I have no idea why you are here.”

  He had him there, Axl realized. If there was no him and Reagan, then why was he here, why did he keep kissing her, why was he desperate to get her clothes off? Axl rubbed his hand across his face and finally admitted that there was something bubbling there, something that, he was convinced, would drive him nuts.

  “Hell,” he muttered.

  Jack laughed and walked behind his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.. He slammed two glasses onto the desk and poured two fingers in each glass. Axl moved into the office and took the glass Jack held out. “Thanks.”

  “I hear she wants to join your kick-ass rescue team,” Jack said, lifting his glass in a silent cheers.

  Axl, in the process of taking a sip, lowered his glass. “For fuck’s sake, that’s supposed to be a secret. Did Reagan tell you about MKR?”

  Jack smiled. “No, you just did. I know you do kidnapping negotiations. It wasn’t a big leap to you doing rescues, especially since Sawyer, over the years, frequently disappears and won’t explain where he’s been. You just confirmed it.”

  Rookie mistake, Axl admitted, swiping his hand across his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Axl swirled the amber liquid around the bowl of his glass. “Okay, so you figured out that we have a rescue team. How did you make the jump to Reagan wanting to join in?”

  Jack drained his whiskey and perched on the edge of his desk. “Reagan is an A-type personality, driven to succeed, and joining your team would prove to her, to you, that she’s the best of the best. She would’ve made a hell of a soldier.”

  Axl didn’t reply, thinking that Reagan had all the technical skills but she lacked the ability to distance herself from the situation. She would disagree but she was too emotional, too soft for war and warfare. Under the hard shell she’d grown to survive her attention-free childhood, she was just a woman looking for approval. Soldiers didn’t look for approval, they made the hard decisions, did what was necessary, not thinking about how their actions would be received. They emotionally detached and did what was required.

  “You don’t agree with me,” Jack said, his tone suggesting his interest.

  “She has the skill but she can’t detach.” Axl looked at Jack and knew that this man was more than a bar owner; he’d seen and done some shit that changed the core of who and what he was. He was a man who’d seen the atrocities that men could inflict on their fellow men. “It’s not war but even in rescues we see stuff that can’t be unseen. I don’t think Reagan needs to see any of it.”

  Jack nodded. “You’re protective of her.”

  “She’s my best friend’s sister. Mike would haunt me if something happened to her.” Axl rubbed the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, Reagan knows that we need another team member, she knows that we’re shorthanded and that we’re slow to trust. She thinks she’s our only option.”

  “I have another option for you.”

  Axl looked and him and waited, knowing where this was going. “You?”

  Jack nodded. “Me. Phantom Recon, Fort Huachuca.”

  Axl nodded, impressed. The men of Phantom Recon were well respected in the military community, supremely skilled in hunting down the most elusive of enemy targets. They were incredible trackers and skilled soldiers. Having a skilled tracker as part of the MKR team would be a huge bonus. But Jack had been out of the Army for a while and he’d need to prove that he still had his old skills. It was something for him to think about.

  “You think about it and give me a call if you want to see how I’d shape up. I bet I could handle anything you toss at me,” Jack said, supremely confident. Being confident in their game wasn’t boasting or bragging. In fact Axl felt reassured by his simple statement. He needed men at his side who knew exactly what they were capable of.

  “And I can easily detach.”

  Axl grinned. “Judging by the rumors that swirl around you and the women you pick up in this place, I know tha
t’s true.”

  Jack grinned. “Why do you think I bought a bar when I got out? Booze and women on tap.”

  Axl frowned, remembering why he came back here. “On that point, stay away from Reagan.”

  Jack’s eyes cooled. “I don’t take orders, Rhodes.”

  Axl met his look with a colder one of his own. “Take this one. Stay away from Reagan, I’ll let you know about MKR.”

  “No to the first and yes to the second,” Jack said as Axl walked toward the door.

  Axl slammed on his brakes and whipped around. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Jack grinned. “The only time you’d ever get to order me around is when I am part of your team and our lives are on the line. Other than that, screw you. If Reagan calls, I’m there. It’s up to you to make sure she doesn’t call.”

  Axl felt a headache growing between his eyes. He couldn’t argue with Jack’s logic, dammit.

  “Oh, and Sawyer and I are going rock climbing the day after tomorrow. Early. Want to join us?”

  Axl nodded, considering his offer. Unlike women, men didn’t complicate shit. Rock climbing and Reagan were two completely separate issues.

  Axl nodded, feeling the spark of excitement in his stomach. “Sure. I can always beat you up later.”

  Jack, the bastard, just laughed.

  ***

  Reagan watched as Axl made his way back across the bar, thinking that he was such a big man but he walked with a sensuous grace. He was perfectly proportioned, Reagan mused, broad shoulders, slim hips, long legs. Female eyes followed him across the bar and Reagan noticed that he ignored the overt displays of hair-flicking and eye-screwing and instead waved to a younger woman with too-thick makeup and a plump body. She was very average looking and exactly the type of girl she would expect Axl to ignore. Yet there was nothing sexual in his greeting, in his wink. The girl waved back, blushed, and dived back into conversation with her friends. They giggled, covertly watching Axl’s butt—how could she blame them? She liked the view too.

  Axl took his place beside her and her body settled and sighed. Axl ordered a beer from Wendy, Jack’s head bartender, and looked at Reagan when she placed a hand on his bare forearm. Under the tips of her fingers she could feel the heat of his skin, the ridges of the veins of his arms, the hair on his forearms. She didn’t realize that her thumb was swiping his skin. “Hey, where did you go?”