Hero - The Ambush: Special Forces Romance (2 page)

Devlin sighed, but it was a sound of relief rather than exasperation. “I'm glad you're staying. Leighton needs someone who has your special skills, your combat training, your heightened instincts.”

“What she needs is police protection,” I countered.

Devlin shook his head, his expression drawn. “The rest of the world sees Leighton as nothing more than a spoiled child with money, like most of the other twenty-somethings in the city. The police might make an effort to find out who's threatening her, but they won't extend her much protection. Even if they wanted to, they couldn't. They simply don't have enough manpower to offer personal protection to every celebrity with overzealous fans.”

He said the last two words with enough sarcasm to worry me. The man was always so calm and cool that seeing him lose even that small amount of control meant he was more upset than he was letting on.

I didn't blame him. Ian and Leighton's mother had been his only child, and with her gone, his grandchildren were his only family. He'd almost lost Ian to the army and had been trying his hardest to keep his nineteen year-old grandson from returning to the service. He wasn't going to be any different with his granddaughter.

And now I was understanding the unsaid reason for not wanting the police to be involved.

I imagined what last night's party would have been like with a police detail watching Leighton instead of me. She would have been arrested within minutes for recreational drug use, and then probably for assault since I seriously doubted she'd go quietly. Then there was the possibility that her bratty, invincible act would've driven them away enough that she could've done whatever she wanted anyway.

I knew that's what she'd tried to do to me.

I saw her differently, and it made her nervous. The sudden energy for the party last night, the desperate attempts to have fun, even the rekindling of her relationship with Ricky had been attempts to make me quit, to push me away from her.

Then she'd kissed me.

That kiss, and all the electric memories it had revived of our one explosive night together was exactly why I'd come to see Devlin, fully intending to quit. Except, if I was honest with myself, the kiss was also why I couldn’t leave her now.

Leighton was hurting, and while I couldn't figure out the exact source of her pain, I was starting to identify the things that made it worse. For one, her grandfather loved her and was trying everything he could to keep her safe. At the same time, he couldn't, and had never tried, to articulate that he believed in her. He thought belittling her spoiled ways, pressuring her to better herself, and assigning a bodyguard to take over her common sense and self-preservation would force her to change. Instead, it told Leighton that her grandfather viewed her the same way as everyone else. And despite her behavior, she really didn't want people to see her that way.

She needed me. Even if she'd never admit it, she did.

“I'll stay,” I said. “But I expect some help finding this threat. I won’t sit around and wait for this person to strike.”

“Yes, good, exactly,” Devlin said, relief evident on his face. He stood up and shook my hand hard. “Leighton has no idea her life is in danger, and I'd like it to stay that way.”

“That may not be the best idea,” I tried to say it as tactfully as I could.

“Be that as it may,” he said. “Leighton is not to know about these threatening letters unless absolutely necessary. She may appear impervious to the perils of the world around her, but my granddaughter is still reeling from the death of her parents. The accident changed her life irrevocably. She may be acting out now, but she'll have to admit sooner rather than later that she needs to grow up.”

“She's stronger than you think,” I said quietly.

The phone rang before he had a chance to respond, and I left Devlin to manage his entertainment empire. I was exhausted from the night before since I'd been keeping watch outside the room Leighton had been in, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep any time soon, thanks to those letters.

Instead of heading to my own quarters, I started toward the little foyer located near Leighton's bedroom. I'd dozed on the couch there more than once, so it'd be good enough for now.

As I stretched out as best I could, I fully expected my head to be full of all the threats I'd read, full of plans to find this guy. What I didn't expect was the introspection that came to me as I laid there.

It hadn't been Leighton's kiss that had made me decide to quit, I realized. It was my reaction to it. We'd had sex the very first night we met, but that one casual encounter still stood out boldly in my mind. I'd tried, but things had always fallen apart before we'd gotten that far.

Somehow, Leighton had touched me deeper, connected with me in ways I had never felt before. The feeling of being wrapped up, entwined with her had been so natural, so wonderful, but I'd walked out that morning and never looked back.

I'd been shipped overseas the next day, sent on an extended Special Forces operation, and I'd known I never would've been able to go if I'd looked in her eyes one last time.

I closed my eyes and saw her eyes as she'd looked up at me last night. It was still there. That draw, that tangle of differences threading tightly around one hard fact I'd never allowed myself to admit.

I loved her.

The
light shifted in the foyer and my eyes flew open. Leighton walked past on her way to the kitchen, not even glancing at me as I stood. I followed without a sound. She was tousled and tired, but didn't look any worse the wear after the prior night's activities. Her expression, though, was sad, distant. I longed to reach out and brush my hand along her cheek, to ask if there was anything I could do to take that look away. She looked the way I felt: torn in two directions.

Any way we go, it'll hurt, I thought.

I stood behind the kitchen door and watched her go to the refrigerator. As hungry as I was, the cook was in the kitchen, and even though I was new on staff, I knew better than to disturb her. The stern-faced woman had a nasty habit of gesturing with knives and other sharp kitchen implements. Leighton, on the other hand, got a free pass, and not only because she was the privileged granddaughter.

“French toast,” Shandra said, jabbing a sharp finger in the air at Leighton.

“With peanut butter,” Leighton said.

They faced off, and Shandra was the first to break. She smiled widely and brushed Leighton out of the way. Leighton kissed her cheek, something I didn't believe any other creature on earth would dare to do. She grabbed a bottle of water before sitting down. At least she was going to rehydrate herself.

I leaned against the doorframe, not wanting to disturb either woman, but unable to take my eyes off of Leighton. I rarely got to see her like this. She'd wiped away all her make-up, left her short, flame red curls wild. She wore jeans and a white tank top with a loose cotton scarf around her neck. The infinity scarf's blue to blue ombre caught the exact shade of her eyes. She was just as beautiful now as she had been in her party clothes last night, but I liked her better now.

At the party, she'd held her head high, her chin jutting out in a way that added defiance to her beauty. Now, idly watching the cook beat eggs into a froth, Leighton held herself differently, softer.

“Don't forget the cinnamon,” Leighton said.

The comment teased instead of commanded, and I watched in awe as Shandra smiled again, a phenomenon I'd never seen before.

“I haven't forgotten the cinnamon once since you were a little girl. What makes you think I'm going to this morning?”

Leighton tipped her head instead of tossing it, a smile playing on her lips. “Old age?”

“I wouldn't trade with you,” Shandra said as she turned to the stovetop.

That was it, I thought. The reason Leighton was so at ease was because Shandra didn't want anything Leighton had.

Every day, she faced people who wished they had her money, her clothes, her hair color, her figure. Even the ones who had money wanted something she had. The staff envied her the money, the lack of a job, her friends, the parties she attended. Even her grandfather looked at her and saw the kind of privileges and chances he would have traded anything for at her age.

I should have taken that realization and gone to list those whose jealousy was potentially dangerous to Leighton, starting with the people who had access to her every day. Instead, I felt compelled to watch her as she sat at the kitchen island, her attention on Shandra and the food preparation. I knew she was trying to drive me away, and it would be even worse now because of what happened last night. I needed to find a way to get through to her, and not just because I hated the thought of her continuing to distance herself from me.

First, we needed to clear the air. It was simple and obvious, but my fists tightened at the thought. What could I say to Leighton about walking out four years ago that would make her understand? I tried last night to at least give her a partial truth, but that hadn't worked. Was my only option to lay it all out? Tell her everything about how I felt, both then and now?

How would she react? I knew she was attracted to me, but what if that was as far as it went? Physical attraction. But what if it wasn't? What if she told me she felt the same?

My head spun and I knew it wasn't from the vertigo. If Leighton felt the same as I had that night four years ago, then we had more to talk about than either of us could handle.

No, I thought, not now. Not ever if I was going to protect her.

Leighton needed me to keep a clear head and find this threat before it got too close to her. I looked at her again and felt the tight pull of longing. I reined it in as I realized it couldn't happen. I would never be her friend. I would never sit in a room with this relaxed, open, and utterly irresistible version of her.

“Peanut butter ruins French toast.” Shandra slid a warm plate in front of Leighton.

“Yeah, but in a good way,” Leighton said with a grin.

She took a bite and her eyes drifted to the ceiling in ecstasy. How the hell could eating peanut butter French toast be so damn sexy? As she looked back down to take another bite, I felt her gaze touch on me.

Her eyes narrowed. “Looks like my tough guy bodyguard is scared of you, Cookie.”

Had she seriously just called Shandra
Cookie
? I barely dared to call her by her first name. Half the time I thought she'd skewer me for that alone.

“Never liked a man without much to say.” Shandra gave me a hard look.

Leighton smiled as I moved into the kitchen, but it wasn't a happy one. Her chin tipped up, and I saw defiance hardening her expression. It caused a near-physical pain knowing I was the one who made her look like that.

Trying to do anything to take that away, I spoke, “Peanut butter on French toast? Why does that actually sound good?”

Leighton was wary, defensive. “Best thing for a hangover. I can hardly remember last night, so this might actually be saving my life. Are you hungover too? Sneak something after we got back here?”

The cook stabbed a fork towards me. “I didn't make extra.” The look on her face said she was daring me to ask her to do just that.

“No problem,” I said easily. “I was just checking in with my employer.”

“Oh?” Leighton asked, her voice testy. “And what did he say?”

I wanted to take her hands and tell her about the threats. I wanted to assure her I wasn't leaving her, that I would find who was sending them, that she would be safe with me. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her that I saw her for who she really was and I'd be damned if I let anyone hurt her. I wanted to tell her that I would do anything for her...Shit.

I stamped down on those thoughts before they could go any further. That had been too far as it was.

I risked the fork-wielding cook and reached for a cup of coffee.

“You,” I said. “I'm checking in with you.”

Leighton chewed her French toast for a moment and took a long gulp of her water. “Don't you mean my grandfather?”

“No. He's agreed that I'm your employee. So if you want to fire me, go ahead.” I hoped she wouldn't decide to test things and do just that.

If Leighton believed she had the power to choose my presence or not, she might lose some of her defiance. Now that I'd seen her, the real her, I didn't think she'd make an arbitrary or petty decision. Either way, in order to earn her trust, I had to give Leighton some of the power in this dynamic.