Men of Honour: Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All

“No one. I have the master suite, and Chris stays in the lake house.” Thinking she was worried about privacy, Dare assured her, “You’ll pretty much have the whole upstairs to yourself.”

Jaw loosening, she turned completely around on the middle of the stairs to face him. The dogs, too, looked at Dare with expectation. “You have another house?”

“A cabin, really, down closer to the lake.” He noticed the pink tinge to her cheeks, how her lips parted, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s small but functional. And Chris values having space he can call his own. Mostly because he’s a slob and I’m not.”

“Good God, a football team could live in this house and have plenty of space.”

Dare couldn’t help himself; he leaned forward and kissed her. With her a step above him, it was the perfect fit. “You’ll be safe here, Molly, no reason to be concerned. The house is wired for state-of-the-art security. Know that you’ll be protected.”

She touched her mouth—and continued to look … reluctant. “I wasn’t … wasn’t worried about that.”

“Yeah, you were. But it’s understandable. Hell, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. Now, come on.” He took the lead, stepping around her and going up the rest of the stairs. The dogs followed him in a rush. “The back bedroom faces the lake. I think you’ll like it.”

“How could I not? It’s all incredible. Very masculine, but somehow posh, too.”

“It’s relaxed—suitable for dogs and two men.” Dare waited at the top of the stairs, watching her.

“I’m sure you guys are very comfortable here, but a woman could be, too.” She followed him up. “Who did your decorating?”

Pleased with her, Dare turned toward one of the bedrooms. “I did.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She twisted her mouth. “Chris said you were good at everything.”

“Chris is paid to be biased.” The dogs forged ahead of him, trying to anticipate his destination.

“But you two are friends, too. You said he’s not just an employee.”

“We’re good friends, have been for years.” Over twenty years, actually … but that was a story for another time.

Dare went into the second largest bedroom and set his duffel on a queen-size four-poster bed. It was made up with soft, warm, hand-sewn quilts and luxurious sheets.

The dogs circled the perimeter of the room, trying to watch both Dare and Molly as she looked lost and he unloaded the few clothes and toiletries currently in her possession. It wasn’t much, but right now, here with him, she didn’t need much.

Attempting to hide her anxiety from him, she patted the dogs and then went to peek into the bathroom.

She would be comfortable here, Dare told himself.

So why was he feeling guilty?

Hands on his hips, he tracked her every movement, trying to gauge her mood, to determine a way to reassure her without crossing boundaries. Hell, he’d already crossed so many lines it shouldn’t matter anymore … but it did.

“Go ahead and put your stuff in the drawers, set up however you want, make yourself at home. The television remotes are on the shelf. There are DVDs in the library if you want to hunt through those. You can bring a bunch up here if you want.”

“Thanks.”

Damn it, she sounded so lost. “The computer is hooked up to the internet, so feel free to surf, to entertain yourself. But don’t check any personal accounts. I don’t want you to sign in under your name for anything. It’s too easy to track.”

“Okay.” She showed little interest in the TV or the computer.

More frustrated by the second, Dare narrowed his eyes. “If you need anything else, just ask.”

She went over to look out the French doors that opened onto a small deck overlooking the yard below—which led down to the lake. From the deck, she could just see Chris’s residence and the dock beyond there, the boathouse, the reflection of the moon off lightly lapping water.

Silence filled the room.

“Molly.”

She leaned against the doors and avoided looking at Dare. “I know it’s late …”

“Not that late.” She’d slept throughout the flight, so she probably wasn’t ready to retire yet. Was that what caused her worry? Did she think he’d bring her here and then abandon her? “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry for real food. Why don’t you take a few minutes to yourself and then meet me downstairs in the kitchen. I’ll get us something to eat.”

Tension fell out of her shoulders. “Okay.”

She didn’t deny being hungry. Again. But Dare was almost positive it was the reprieve from being alone that had relaxed her. Why didn’t she just tell him that?

Confounding woman.

“You have time to take a shower if you want.”

She inhaled and let out a long breath. “Okay. Thanks.”

Dare crossed his arms. “Damn it, Molly, if you have something on your mind—”

She spun around with a false smile. “No, I’m fine. Everything is … fine. Terrific. Go get your food. I’ll freshen up and be right down.”

He waited, wondering if he should press the issue. She’d been through so much that there had to be awful, residual effects. What did he really know of how a woman reacted to these things? So far, everything he’d expected from her had been off. No hysterics, no uncontrollable sobbing or raging anger.

“Really, Dare. I’m fine. Looking forward to a shower, actually.”

Dare didn’t believe a word of it, but standing there staring at her wasn’t going to help. “Towels are in the bathroom. Come on down when you’re finished.”

“I hope I don’t get lost.” She tried a smile that didn’t quite make it to her warm brown eyes. Moving to the door by way of encouraging him to leave, she said, “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Take your time.” He started out, but the dogs hesitated, whining, looking from Molly to Dare and back again. He rolled his eyes. “She’ll join us soon enough. Come on.” He patted his thigh, and finally the dogs came to him.

Together, they left, but Dare didn’t like it. Surely Molly wanted the privacy of her own bedroom, her own bathroom. It wasn’t like he was leaving her alone in a strange place. He’d be right downstairs.

But, damn it, he didn’t want to be.

If it hadn’t been so inappropriate, he would have dragged Molly down onto the bed and just held her. All night.

As if they felt his mood, Tai and Sargie kept giving him sympathetic glances.

“It’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it? Trust me, I don’t like being confused any more than you do.”

The dogs whined in return.

By the time he stowed his duffel in his room and joined Chris in the kitchen, his mood had soured even more. With it well past their bedtime, the dogs went straight for their favorite spot in the attached morning room. They each had a padded bed placed before the wall of windows. Only moonlight shone through, but they flopped down to wallow in it, and they were soon asleep.

Chris handed Dare a cup of coffee, which was always the first order of business. “Is Ms. Apple Dumpling turning in for the night?”

“Taking a shower—and this is no time for you to be an asshole, so lay off of her, will you?” He tasted the coffee and commended Chris with a nod. It had taken him nearly a month to teach Chris the right ratio of freshly ground coffee beans to water to brew time. Now he had it down pat, and it was one luxury Dare missed while out on the road.

“I saw the bruises.” Chris leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “Someone really put it to her?”

“Several someones.”

He acknowledged that, then said, “I hope they aren’t still living.”

Dare rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. That he killed when necessary wasn’t a surprise for Chris, or an emotional burden for Dare. “I took care of them.” But now, in hindsight, he wished like hell that he would have kept one of the fuckers around to question.

Chris was curious, but as usual, he wasn’t prying. It was yet another reason why he made such an invaluable assistant. “I found Molly in the same holding cell with Alani, but she stood out like a sore thumb.” Dare faced his friend. “No way was she there to be sold off, because she was abused too much, way more than the others.”

Chris went still. “So why was she there?”

“Fucked if I know. I think someone had her taken. But I have no idea why.” Dare frowned. “Yet.”

While idly setting out the fresh groceries he’d bought, Chris considered that. “I take it she isn’t exactly the norm for that sort of thing?”

“Hell, no.”

Chris didn’t drink much coffee, which might have been why it took so long for him to get the process of making it right. He took out the orange juice and poured himself a tall glass. “It almost had to be somebody close to her—isn’t that what you always say?”

Dare shrugged. “I’m keeping an open mind, and I plan to cover all the bases.”

“A few questions come to mind.”

“I figured as much.” Dare set the half-empty cup aside and went to investigate Chris’s food purchases. Skinless chicken and fresh vegetables would be quick and easy to cook. “Let’s have it.”

“She hired you?”

Dare shrugged again. Molly’s offer to pay him for services rendered didn’t sit well with him. “I might do this one pro bono. But I haven’t told her that yet, so keep it to yourself.”

That set Chris back, so it was a few seconds before he asked, “How long is she staying here?”

“Don’t know yet.” And he didn’t want to think about it too much. He preferred to play it by ear, and take it one day at a time. He got out what he’d need to sauté the chicken and steam the vegetables. “Depends on how things go.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked up from his chore. “I’m going to take her back to her place, be with her when she sees family and then judge my next step.”

“So if things go well and you can wrap it up quick, maybe you won’t be bringing her back with you?”

“I didn’t say—”

Molly cleared her throat and both men looked up. She’d combed her wet hair straight back and dressed in one of the big shirts—with a bra beneath—and the jeans. Her bare feet poked out from under the denim.

Dare straightened.

Chris stepped around him and held out a chair at the long granite bar. “Coffee or juice?”

Glancing away from Dare’s penetrating stare, she said, “Juice would be great. Thank you.” She visually explored the island gourmet kitchen with stone countertops and lots of stainless steel. It opened into a family room and the morning room, where they ate breakfast. “Every room is more amazing than the next.”

Dare said nothing. The second she’d entered, he again felt her tension.

The dogs came to investigate, sniffed her feet and dropped down beside her. Hell, Dare thought, even they felt protective, so why would he expect himself to be any different?

Maybe because he knew it wasn’t just protectiveness that he felt.

“I’ll have food ready in twenty minutes.”

“Sounds great. What can I do to help?”

“You can tell me why your readers could be suspects. And then we’ll go from there.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“READERS?” CHRIS DID a double take. What the hell did he mean by readers? Molly wrote? Like … what?

“She’s an author,” Dare told him as he began preparing the food. “One of her books is being made into a movie with Ryan Reynolds as the lead.”

Chris’s jaw loosened. Why did Dare just keep dropping bombshells on him? He’d already found her interesting, in part because Dare had brought her here, which was an aberration of the major kind.

But this was something altogether different.

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Nice language, asshole.”

Chris waved that off. It wasn’t like Dare was any better. Hell, neither of them was used to having a female around the place—not counting Tai and Sargie, who didn’t care what language they heard as long as they got treats and plenty of attention.

As a genuine movie buff, Chris felt suitably impressed. But then, he’d already been impressed with her before that. Somehow, Molly didn’t fit his vision of the creative sort. She wasn’t … glamorous enough. And she seemed far too grounded, instead of artistic.

But hell, she’d just been rescued from kidnappers who had battered her pretty badly. Maybe under better circumstances she had more savoir faire.

As he considered it, he realized that Molly didn’t fit any stereotype familiar to him. Most people in her situation would be either demanding of attention or withdrawn and fearful. Not Molly. Perhaps she was different with Dare, in private.

But in his presence, she wasn’t intrusive, needy or whiney. In fact, she tried hard not to inconvenience them in any way.

Chris shook his head. He knew Dare expected him to resent female intrusion, and before Molly, he would have. He protected his position, and he always had Dare’s back.

With Molly, there was no threat—not of the type he’d always guarded against.

If anything, he fell in line with Dare, sharing the need to keep her safe and help her feel secure.

“Ryan is a possible lead,” Molly corrected. “We’re waiting for confirmation….” She looked oddly chagrined, then downcast. “Well, actually, it might have already been confirmed or denied, but I haven’t had access to a phone or computer or anything.”

“Soon,” Dare told her.

“God, this sucks. I have no idea what’s going on with my career. But I was so focused on …”

“Surviving?” Chris supplied.

“Well, yeah. I was surviving, and so caught up in … in just holding it together that I …” She trailed off with a groan.

“You’re a trouper,” Chris told her in a grand understatement.

“I hope my editor or agent hasn’t been trying to get hold of me. What would they think? We were right in the middle of negotiations on this thing before I … I …”

Chris set the juice before her and pulled up a chair. He took her hand, so small and female, and wished he could have helped Dare destroy the ones who had done this to her. “Getting snatched by thugs is so damned inconvenient, isn’t it?”

She choked on a laugh and nodded with exaggeration. “More so than I ever could have imagined.”

Dare shot him a look of warning, which almost made Chris roll his eyes. He had to be the least threatening guy Ms. Molly was likely to come into contact with.

Even if he wasn’t gay, he’d have no sexual interest in her. Dare had already staked a claim. End of story.

But was he supposed to ignore the fact that she was a famous writer? No, of course not. “How long did they have you, Molly?”

“Dare helped me to figure out that it was nine days.”

Good God. Nine days of unending fear, pain, despair … Nine days of hell.

Overwhelmed with emotions he’d seldom felt, Chris gently squeezed her hand. “Well, then, I take back my earlier thoughts. You actually look incredible, all things considered.”

She snorted at that and, pulling her hand away, smoothed her hair behind her ears in a female show of insecurity. “Yeah, if looking like death warmed over appeals to you.”

He helped her tuck away a wayward strand. “Actually, you only look wounded, which sometimes appeals to the big protective male.”

“Chris …”

He laughed at Dare. “What I really meant was that I thought there were two types of writers, the glamorous ones who donned feather boas and dripped diamonds, and the harried ones who lived in a fantasyland.”

“I’m far from glamorous, and I’m only harried when I’m in the middle of a book. And when that happens, I can forget I have hair, much less how to groom it.”

Before Chris could ask for more details, Dare said, “We’ll be going to your place soon. You can get updated on everything important then.”

“Soon as in … like, when?”

“Depends. Probably in a couple of days.” He put the thinly sliced chicken into a hot skillet with spices. “You said you live north of Cincinnati, right?”

Molly toyed with her glass of orange juice. “It’s a small community, but nice. My apartment building is pretty old and quaint, but it’s comfortable for me.”

“Good security?” Dare asked.

“Not really. I mean, compared to this fortress, it’s just a plain old building. We have floodlights in the parking lot, and the halls are well lit. But we don’t have any hired guards or anything.”

“Is the front door kept locked?”

“Well … no.”

Chris shared a look with Dare. Most people were never forced to face danger in daily living. But as Dare’s personal assistant, he knew only too well the peril that could invade a person’s life, especially a woman.

It made him ill to think of Molly alone and susceptible to danger.

“It’s not that bad,” she told both men, recognizing their expressions of concern. “The locks on each apartment are sturdy, and we all have dead bolts, too.”

Only a small part of Dare’s attention was on the food. “You said the building is old. Do the windows lock?”

“I guess most of them do.”

When Dare turned toward her in exasperation, she rushed to explain.

“I’m on the upper floor, so I never worried about it as much as the people on the ground floor might.”

“It’s two stories? Do you have a fire escape?”

“Yes and yes.”

Chris always enjoyed seeing Dare in analytical mode. You could almost hear the gears turning as he figured things out in his mind.

“You need windows with secure locks.”

“Trust me, when I finally get my life back together, I’m going to be the most lock-happy woman you’ve ever met.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she shuddered. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel totally safe again.”

Dismissing that, probably because he was intent on ensuring her safety, Dare asked, “Busy area? Much traffic out front?”

“Not really, no. In fact, it’s really quiet. That’s … that’s how those men were able to grab me without anyone noticing. It’s a neighborhood of older people.” She breathed a little faster, a little more shallowly. “And it’s not that I’m oblivious to my surroundings, honest. I … I saw the old, rusty white van when I went out to the mailbox. But it just never occurred to me … I mean, why would I think that anyone wanted to grab me? It wasn’t the middle of the night, and I don’t live in the slums.”

Dare and Chris waited as she sorted the details out in her mind.

“I did wonder why it was just sitting there. Then, when I dropped my mail into the box, and I was ready to head back in, suddenly …” She faded off, staring at nothing in particular, sort of vacant and lost.

“Molly.”

Face pale, she lifted her gaze to Dare.

“They’re gone now, remember?”

Slowly, by small degrees, she gathered herself and nodded. “You killed them.”

“Yeah.”

Chris listened to the exchange in amazement. Dare had admitted that to her? He’d told her that he killed them?

Un-fucking-believable.

Letting out a shuddering breath, she relaxed again. “Where I live, older cars aren’t uncommon, but usually they’re sedans or compacts, not vans.” She shook her head. “Other than early evening, when the old folks sit on their porches, there aren’t a lot of people outside to pay much attention to what’s going on.”

Molly was about the most fragile woman Chris had ever met, but she also put up one hell of a good front. And she had a very likable disposition that excluded any self-pity at all.

She was shaken, but she wasn’t damaged. Hoping his curiosity wouldn’t upset her, Chris asked, “How’d they get you all the way to Mexico?”

“I don’t really know. They … someone held me down, and another guy gave me a shot of something. I fought to stay alert, but there wasn’t anything I could do. I passed out. I came to a few times, but before I could get my bearings, they’d stick me with another needle, keeping me drugged. When I finally came around, we were driving again, but in a different car. Everything was different. It was so hot, and I felt sick. Then they dragged me into that awful little shack.” She swallowed hard. “It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was in Mexico. But I never found out why.”

Deliberately removing Molly from those memories, Dare went back to cooking and told Chris, “Get her address and find the easiest way to travel there.”

Chris heard the edge in Dare’s tone and knew he was affected by Molly’s unrelenting manner, too. “Right.”

“I’d prefer to drive if I can go up and back in one day, overnight at the most. If that’s not possible, then charter another flight.”

Anxious to help her in any way that he could, Chris went straight to the computer area. “Nothing commercial, right?”

“Not until I know what’s going on.”

“Another private flight? Is that much precaution really necessary?”

“Yes.” Dare left no room for argument. “It is.”

Molly fretted. “But we have to finish discussing our—” she glanced at Chris “—terms.” And then, in a lower voice, and with a frown, “Dare, I’m not sure I want to pay for two chartered flights.”

Chris choked on a laugh, saw her face and sucked it up. “Why don’t you give me the address while you and Dare hash that out?”

Begrudgingly, she shared her address but then turned on Dare. “We need to talk about this.”

“You already hired me, and you already agreed to do things my way.” He turned the chicken as if he didn’t have a single concern. “It’s too late to change your mind now.”

She tucked in her chin. “Dare, I do not have unlimited funds. The way an author is paid … Well, it’s sometimes feast or famine. I’m not saying I’m poor, because I’m not. I’m very comfortable financially. But I need to check my accounts and see when my next big check is due.”

“Don’t worry about it right now.” And then to Chris, “What’s taking you so long?”

Never before had Chris seen Dare disconcerted by a woman. Usually his word was law, period. Intriguing stuff—not that he’d dare say so.

Chris turned his attention to the computer and typed in the address Molly had given him. “Hmm. It’s not far at all.” He skipped past Dare and glanced back at Molly. “Are you up for a four-hour drive?”

Looking mulish, voice low, she said, “Whatever Dare wants is fine by me.”

Such a loaded statement, full of possible sexual innuendo.

Knowing Dare was already poised to verbally shut him down, Chris quickly held up a hand. He wasn’t about to say anything that might make Molly uncomfortable.

He got back to business and finished checking a map. “It’s looking good. A fairly straight shot. Morning soon enough for me to finalize things?”

“What’s to finalize?” Molly asked. “You have the route right there.”

“Dare likes details. Lots and lots of details. He’ll want me to include where to stop to eat, and if eating isn’t necessary, then possible locations for a bathroom break. Any construction in the area. Any landmarks that he’ll pass that might be conducive to sabotage—”

Dare interrupted to say, “Morning is soon enough.”

“You taking your SUV or a rental?”

“Mine is fine.”

“Got it.” Chris couldn’t help but give in to a grin. It wasn’t that Dare showed much emotion; on the surface, he was the same cool cucumber. But Chris knew him better than that.

Probably better than anyone.

Sure, Dare and Trace were close. Alani, too. But as Dare’s personal assistant, Chris was involved in every aspect of Dare’s life. That gave him insights that the others wouldn’t be privy to.

And right now, he knew the biggest source of his boss’s temperament was a bad case of lust. Given the little lady had just gotten through an extended spell of abuse, with a very uncertain future ahead, Dare was too noble to act on that lust. Even though, Chris observed, Molly seemed to have her own wealth of feelings for Dare. It was there in the way she watched him, her body language when he was near.

But that could be gratitude as much as anything, which Dare had to realize, too. Dare had saved her, had slain her dragons, and he was now protecting her.