Resisting Her Commander Hero. Lucy Ryder
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the same thing? What’s our girl up to now? Surely our girl wouldn’t be so reckless as to dive off Devil’s Point into the sea?
He caught up with Frankie in the far corner of the car park where she’d parked her battered SUV. He’d trawled the parking earlier and deliberately found a space a couple of cars down from her vehicle so she couldn’t sneak off.
He knew the instant she became aware she was being followed when her stride faltered, so imperceptibly he would have missed it if he hadn’t been a trained observer. Or watching her long shapely legs.
She stiffened and, without turning, said, “Go home, soldier.” As though she knew who it was before he could announce himself.
“We need to talk,” he said, ignoring her continued use of the “soldier” moniker. She was determined to annoy him and Nate was just as determined not to be riled. He’d decided to pick his fights where Frankie was concerned and this one wasn’t worth getting into. Not now anyway. He was too tired and had other more important issues to address.
Like was she really okay and...what the heck had she been thinking on the mountain?
Clenching his jaw against the impulse to yell at her, Nate growled when she stopped at her SUV and dug around in her shoulder bag for her keys. So much for calming his mind, he thought with frustration.
Without looking at him, she asked, “About what?”
“Let’s start with you making a target of yourself in a dark parking lot, and ending with driving after being medicated on top of a long shift.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snorted, causing his jaw to harden. “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Besides, all my shifts are long.”
“All the more reason to be careful after taking meds,” he snapped, reaching out to snag her shoulder bag. She tried to snatch it back but the move had her sucking in a sharp breath. She abruptly swayed and in the light from the nearby security light he watched her face drain of color.
Cursing, he wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her roughly against him. The feel of her body, warm and soft against his, had him sucking in his own sharp breath. Putting his hands on her hadn’t been part of his plan.
But this pale and terrifyingly fragile woman tugged at something buried so deep he’d forgotten it was there. Something he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“C’mon,” he muttered wearily. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I can get myself home, Commander Big Shot,” she announced, but her bold statement was ruined when it emerged all slurred and weary. It must have annoyed her because she planted her palms against his chest and shoved. “I’m fine,” she grunted, when her efforts failed to move him. “Especially as I’ve been taking care of myself for a while now, thank you very much.”
“That’s Lieutenant Commander Big Shot,” he corrected mildly, allowing her some space but snagging her arm when she tried to stomp off in the opposite direction. He tugged her toward his brand-new four-by-four. “And it’s not you I’m worried about, wild thing. It’s the other poor saps on the road. Your driving is enough to scare even the most seasoned speedster.”
“Hey,” she protested, stumbling into a parked car before he could steer her out of the way. “I’m an excellent driver. You should know. You and Jack taught me.”
At the mention of Jack, they both seemed to freeze because the last time he’d tried to talk to her about her brother, she’d kind of freaked out. He’d wanted to tell her how much Jack had meant to him—of the promise he’d made to look out for her—but Frankie hadn’t wanted to listen. She clearly didn’t want to talk now either because her expressive face abruptly closed down.
It had been more than five years and Nate still missed Jack, especially being back in Port St. John’s.
Injecting as much normality and humor into his tone as he could, he said, “That’s why I know you suck. Maybe you should get a siren installed.” He pulled her upright and was relieved when she allowed him to steer her to the driver’s side. “That way people will know to get out of your way. Besides, I’m surprised that piece of junk you drive hasn’t fallen apart.”
“Hey,” she objected again, this time more strongly. “Just because it doesn’t fit your lofty idea of perfection it doesn’t mean it’s ready for the scrap heap, Mr. Everything-is-Better-Newer-and-Shinier. It’s just like you to be—”
She stopped abruptly when she realized she wasn’t at the passenger side. After a couple of blinks, a slow smile tugged at her full lips and she flashed an upward gaze. For the first time he realized that her smile was wonky and her eyes were a little glazed.
Great. She was as high as a kite.
“You’re letting me drive?”
His snort was enough to bring back her scowl. “You’re no fun,” she accused sulkily, and in the abrupt silence that followed he heard her suck in a sharp breath.
It was the same accusation she’d flung at him the night of her eighteenth birthday. The night she’d pretended to drown in the surf when she’d been an excellent swimmer. The night he’d lost his temper when he’d realized she’d done it to get his attention.
It was also the night he’d realized that a grown-up Frankie—with all the curves of blossoming womanhood—was more dangerous to his mind and body than a whole mountainside of terrorists with their crosshairs on his center mass.
“Get in, Francis,” he murmured dryly, disengaging the locks and opening the door. “I drive.”
“You’re still bossy and annoying,” she muttered beneath her breath as she gingerly climbed into the cab. “And if I wasn’t so tired, I’d tell you that you’re not the boss of me.”
His lips twisted wryly. “Of course you would. Get in, woman, before my patience runs out and I toss you into the harbor.”
She uttered a soft snort and lurched over the gearshift, giving him an eyeful of her curvy bottom. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t because, in spite of everything, a grown-up Frankie would tempt a saint.
“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered grumpily, and Nate’s amusement faded. None of this was funny, least of all the sight of her pale, exhausted face. Knowing he was partly to blame made his chest ache.
He pulled himself into the cab and shoved the key in the ignition, studying her out the corner of his eye.
“You okay?”
Her soft snort was accompanied with a dry “Peachy,” drawing a long-suffering sigh from Nate. The skinny girl with wild red hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose and a wide contagious smile had turned into a stunning woman.
But the joyful sparkle in her clear green eyes had been replaced by shadows and secrets. Secrets she was keeping from him.
Nate shook his head at himself and started the engine. He shoved the gearstick into reverse and with quick economical moves backed out of the parking and headed for the exit.
At this time of the night it was a quiet drive across town to the little bungalow she called home and he waited until he turned into her driveway before saying, “You ready to talk, Red?”
Out the corner of his eye he saw her go still and it took him a couple of seconds to realize the old nickname he’d given her when she was ten had slipped out without thinking. Maybe it had been the mention of Jack, as though they were still all young, and alive...and together.
Her lush mouth firmed and she turned to face him, gaze unreadable when she’d always been an open book. To him at least.
“About what? I thought we’d settled the issue of me driving in a drug-induced state when I allowed you to shanghai me?”
“It’s about your reckless behavior.”
“Reckless?