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

“Motels?” Molly paused with a spoonful of cereal almost to her mouth. That made no sense to her.

Teasing, Chris said, “It’s a four-hour drive, five if you stop to eat. You really never know when you might need a … room.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Why would we …” And suddenly she caught on: Chris was referring to what he’d heard last night. From her.

Aghast, Molly threw a piece of wet cereal at him, hitting him dead center in the chest. The cereal bounced off onto the table but left a spot of milk on his sweatshirt.

Not even trying to hide his laughter, Chris snatched up the cereal and popped it into his mouth. “I’m all done here.” He rose from his seat. “If you see Dare, tell him I’ll be back within an hour.”

With heat still throbbing in her face, Molly tried to play off her embarrassment. “Where are the dogs?”

“Downstairs with Dare.” Chris walked toward her, paused to give her shoulder a squeeze and then whistled as he snatched up keys and left the kitchen.

Dare had warned her about Chris, but he hadn’t mentioned how much the man liked to tease, and his lack of propriety.

At a loss as to how to proceed, Molly took her time finishing her cereal. She didn’t even know herself anymore. Not only had Chris reminded her of last night, but she’d just behaved like a child by throwing her food at him.

Propping her head on her fist, she wished she at least had the dogs for company. She’d gotten used to their constant shadowing. But it made sense that now that Dare was around they wanted to be with him. She could see how much he loved Tai and Sargie, and how much they loved him.

It would help her to sort things out if she knew more about Dare. Things like how much time he actually spent away with his work. And more details about his work would be nice, too. He obviously did very well for himself, given his property and his ease in spending money. Did his career choice often involve killing monstrous bad guys? Or had her situation been somehow unique?

Given the oddity of his work, when did he last have a steady girlfriend? Was a steady girlfriend even possible?

Molly wanted to know about his family, other friends he might have, preferences and dislikes and … everything.

She didn’t have Chris or the dogs to keep her company, but when the noise in the basement continued, she decided she’d do well to stay busy.

After clearing away the breakfast mess, she dragged herself back upstairs to write. This time her attempts at that distraction didn’t last beyond a half hour. Her muse wouldn’t cooperate anymore.

She tried going out the French doors for some fresh air, but instead she ended up staring at the dock and … remembering. Her skin tingled and warmed, and her body felt tight.

Sometimes a steamy shower helped kick-start her muse. She spent almost half an hour under the hot spray, and even washed her hair again, adding extra conditioner. Afterward, her hair was fluffier and her skin glowed, but overall the effort was wasted.

As Molly stared in the mirror, she couldn’t help but pay attention to the bruising that colored her skin. The once-purple marks were already fading to a sickly yellow and pale green.

Her stomach twisted in that now-familiar way, wrenched by remembered fear and choking uncertainty. Those men had hurt her so much, not just physically, but her pride and her spirit. Never in her life had she been so scared, and so despondent. Never had she thought anything so awful could happen to her.

Now she knew, and her life would never be the same.

If it hadn’t been for Dare, she might be there still. Or she could have even been killed, and no one would have ever known what happened to her.

But he had saved her. In a no-nonsense way, he’d reassured her, cared for her, protected her.

And last night he had touched her, giving her new memories to focus on.

The ugliness of captivity faded as she thought about Dare and how he’d made her feel. She almost felt it again, just remembering.

Her pale, marred skin now had a becoming flush. Thanks to Dare and what he’d done, she looked better, but she couldn’t lie to herself.

She was still an average thirty-year-old woman, and nothing would change that.

To hell with it, Molly decided. She’d never been vain, and she wasn’t going to start now. She liked herself, and she was satisfied with her looks. No, she wasn’t glamorous or flashy. She would never turn heads. But neither would anyone call her a troll, even with a few discolored bruises.

With new resolve, she went back downstairs and stood right outside the basement door. Dare worked for her, she reminded herself. In the end, she would be paying him an indeterminate yet surely hefty fee. That meant she was due a few answers, whether she had a romantic involvement with him or not.

As soon as she opened the door, she could hear a steady punching sound accompanied by loud, hard music. At least she had one curiosity satisfied; Dare liked hard rock, just as she did. Surely music wouldn’t be the only thing they had in common.

Her heart pounded in time to the beat. Putting her shoulders back, Molly descended the steps.

EVEN BEFORE SHE showed herself, Dare sensed Molly’s approach. So did the dogs. They jumped up, and the tail-wagging began.

Few people had ever encroached into his private workout territory, but oddly, he didn’t mind that she was here. In fact, he’d been thinking about her, wondering how her writing was going, and if she’d eaten.

Worrying for anyone, especially a woman for whom he’d accepted responsibility, was new to Dare. He’d always been able to separate the liability of the job with emotional attachment.

But with Molly, every damn thing seemed different, and very personal.

When he felt her burning gaze on his back, he paused and looked toward her. As a man who always noted the smallest details, he realized right off that she’d taken extra care with her appearance. To impress him?

His eyes narrowed at that thought. If the woman understood how much restraint it took to resist her, she wouldn’t be so comfortable with him.

As their gazes locked, Molly tried for a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Holding back, she stayed a good distance from him, as if unsure of her welcome.

That bugged him.

Picking up a towel and wiping sweat from his face, Dare turned toward her. “You look nice, Molly.”

Color tinged her cheeks. “Thank you.” And then, in a rush, “There’s really not much I can do. I mean, not without makeup and styling products for my hair—”

“You look damned good without it.” He liked it that she didn’t spend hours in the bathroom primping. Or maybe she did under normal circumstances. He couldn’t know.

He had to remember that in many ways, Molly was still a stranger to him.

What he did know about her counted for a lot, though.

She’d dealt rationally with her ordeal, forfeiting the expected hysterics as much from bone-deep pride as a commonsense need to survive. In a crisis, Molly would be a help, not a hindrance. Under pressure, she kept her wits about her.

Most of all, he knew that she was a fighter. And damn, but he admired that. Too much.

“So.” Aware of how she stared at his naked, sweaty chest—and lower—Dare studied her stiff posture. He sounded gruff when he asked, “Did you need something?”

“No.” She looked around the gym area. “Not really.”

Other than filling the basement with fitness gear, he’d never bothered to do anything with it. He had plenty of living space upstairs, and he sure as hell didn’t need fancy surroundings to stay in shape and break a sweat.

In organized fashion, mats covered the concrete floor, and equipment hung from hooks in the walls. A refrigerator stocked with cold water sat along the back wall, and adjacent to that was a treadmill, an elliptical machine, a bench and weights, and other assorted exercise apparatus. He had a generous, tiled corner shower and a cabinet filled with towels.

Picking up the stereo remote, Dare turned down the music. Molly had come to him for some reason, but she was being shy about speaking her mind. “Everything’s okay?”

She nodded as she continued to look around.

Not that there was all that much to see. Other than when it was cleaned and sanitized, no one ventured down here but him.

Leaving the towel to drape around his neck, Dare went for a water bottle. Since Molly stayed silent, he supposed it was up to him to figure out the reason behind her visit. “Get much writing done?”

Her gaze came back to him.

Then went over him. Slowly.

She drew in a shaky breath.

Ah. She still wanted him. Good thing, too, since he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to wait.

Maybe he should have taken her last night. That thought had driven him to a hard jog, and then a pounding workout. Not that the exertion had worked to relieve his need. Not enough.

He burned with wanting her. It was insane, unaccountable, but Ms. Molly Alexander pushed all his buttons. Even now, covered in sweat, he could take her. He saw it in her eyes and in the way she held herself. It was a unique type of hell, having to resist her.

But never in his life had he abused anyone’s trust, and he wasn’t going to start now. They would both live with the need until the time was right. Waiting just meant that when he did finally have her, there’d be no holding back.

She had to be ready, because he intended to keep her naked and in the bed for hours.

Affected by her intimate look, Dare dropped his head to stare at his feet in consternation. Molly couldn’t hide her feelings worth a damn, which meant her physical attraction to him was more than obvious—and it pushed him.

He’d just spent a long time trying to work off the sexual tension, but knowing how much she wanted him brought it all right back.

Watching her, Dare swigged the water, set the bottle aside and took a few steps closer. “I’m sweaty.”

She looked from his bare feet to his hips to his chest, bit her lips and said, “You look powerful, like an ancient warrior.”

That sentiment surprised a short laugh out of him. “If you say so.” Trying to put her at ease, he added, “I like to wear as little as possible when I’m working out. Gives me more freedom of movement.”

“I see.” She glanced down at his gym shorts, and then away. “How often do you do this?”

“This?”

“Work out for so long.”

Hadn’t been long enough to alleviate his knotted muscles, but he saw no point in telling her that. Instead, he rolled a shoulder. “Whenever I can.” He thought to add, “It’s important for me to stay in shape.”

Her gaze latched on to his again. “Because of what you do?”

“Yeah.” And because of what he might have to do. In his line of work, chasing down a target was as likely as a direct physical confrontation. And in more than one instance, he’d had to combat multiple adversaries.

He always won.

Molly crossed her arms under her breasts. “I, um, I saw you hitting that punching bag.”

“A heavy bag.” Dare flexed his hands inside the fingerless gloves. His muscles burned, and so did his libido. “I use it to practice strikes and kicks.” He knew how to debilitate, or even kill, with a single blow.

“You’re really good, aren’t you?”

He was, but she hadn’t come down here to compliment him, and they both knew it. “I have to be good at my job, Molly. And that includes being able to defend myself, and others.”

“Like you defended me?”

He’d killed for her. Remembering that, thinking of how she’d looked when he found her, added a strain to his tone. “I do what I have to do.”

“Have you killed many people?”

Narrowing his eyes, Dare stared at her, trying to figure out where she was going with this. But for once, she hid her thoughts from him.

Would she be disgusted with the truth? Could she handle the reality of what he did? “Let’s just say that I’ve killed on more than one occasion and let it go at that.” Waiting for her reaction, he walked over to the bench and sat down to unlace his gloves.

“It’s easy for you?”

“Not easy, no. Just accepted.” Hoping she’d understand, Dare said, “It’s important for me to have that capability, and to know that I won’t hesitate to go there—when it’s necessary.”

“Why?”

She didn’t look frightened or disgusted, just very interested. Dare rested his forearms over his knees and studied her. “Knowing that I can go the distance, that I can do whatever has to be done to finish a job, makes me a better fighter because I can engage in a calm, calculated way, without fear.” And usually without anger. But then he thought of the incident in the Walmart parking lot, and how blindly furious he’d been when those men had tried to take her.

Without meaning to, without even trying, Molly fucked with his performance, demolishing years of skill and training.

She was dangerous, and he wanted her too much to care.

“It must be nice,” she said, surprising him with her acceptance of the darker side of his life. “To not be afraid, I mean.”

There it was, the reason for his restraint with her. For the rest of her life, Molly would remember what she’d suffered, and she would fear things that she hadn’t, until recently, known were possible. “You’re a nice woman, Molly. I wouldn’t want you to change.”

“I think you’re nice, too.”

If vipers could be considered nice.

It was important to him that she understood one crucial aspect of his ability. “I can kill with my bare hands. Knowing that makes me more effective in a fight because having that ability usually lets me end things without deadly force.”

“You don’t kill unless you have to.”

Or when he knew the world would be safer without someone left alive. But that was a point he could make later—if they had a later.

Dare held her gaze. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” It sure as hell didn’t satisfy his.

“About your work, yes.” She kept her distance. “But I’d like to know more about you. How you got your start, the things you enjoy, the day-to-day stuff.”

Too much curiosity would be dangerous. “You want the bare bones of my life?”

Measuring her words with care, she said, “I want whatever you’ll share with me.”

His mouth twitched. It was a little late for her to worry about seeming nosy, but he still appreciated her good manners. “When I was seventeen, I joined the service.”

“But that’d mean you were a minor. Is that allowed?”

Dare shrugged. “With parental consent, yeah.”

She looked appalled that anyone had agreed to his enlistment.

“It was a good decision, Molly, one of the best things I ever did. Everyone realized right off that I had a knack for defense and for following through.” He pulled off the gloves. “If that meant killing someone intent on harming me or others, then that’s what I did.”

She said nothing to that. Dare set the gloves aside and braced his hands on the bench. “But, Molly, understand that I detest bullies and needless violence. I would never harm an innocent or watch someone else cause harm. Whenever possible, I avoid all physical conflicts. I have no problem at all walking away from a fight—when walking away is an option.”

“You killed those men in Mexico.”

“Yeah.” She hadn’t said it as an accusation, but as confirmation. “But, Molly?”

She looked at him with big, dark eyes.

“That was before I saw what they’d done to you. You aren’t responsible for any of that.”

She bit her lips and nodded. “I’m sure you did what needed to be done.”

Dare felt strangled by her trust. His fingers curved around the bench, gripping it hard. “They had taken Alani.”

“I know.” She sounded far too gentle, and far too understanding. “You told me that she’s like a sister to you.”

Shit. He didn’t want to explain emotional entanglements. But he still heard himself say, “She and Trace are more like family than my real family is.”

She thought for a second, then asked, “Do you see your parents often?”

Dare shook his head and relaxed a little. He could talk about this, about his parents, without the sentiment. “Dad died in a small-plane crash years ago. Mom is remarried and living in Michigan. I visit with her a couple of times a year.”

“You’re not close?”

“Not really, not since Dad died.” He shrugged. “We get along fine, mostly because we don’t see each other real often.” He waited for her to dig into that, and he had no idea what he’d tell her.

How could he make her understand that he’d always been a loner? His mother hadn’t been the same since the plane crash, not that she’d ever been real clingy before that. But maybe it had nothing to do with his mother. He loved her, but he had no need to be in constant contact with her. She seemed to feel the same.

Molly bypassed his expected questions to ask, “Any siblings?”

This felt like an interrogation, but all things being equal, he supposed he owed her some info. “No. A stepbrother from Mom’s second marriage. He’s a doctor. Nice enough guy.” And Dare had nothing in common with him.

“Does your mother know what you do?”

Hell, no. Only a handful of people were trusted enough to know the full truth. “She knows I hire out as a defense and security specialist. The nitty-gritty details aren’t up for public consumption.”

“Even with your mother?”

Leveling a look on her, Dare emphasized, “With no one.”

“Oh.” Molly retreated emotionally. “Sorry.”

Damn it. Dare felt her withdrawal, and it pissed him off. It wasn’t her fault that he’d already told her more than most knew. Only Chris and Trace were privy to the private particulars of his work, but for some reason, talking with Molly was far too easy.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself spilling his guts—and he knew that wouldn’t be smart, or prudent. “Forget about it.”

“I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Yeah, you did. But it’s okay. We might as well get this over with.”

She winced.

Because he was watching her so closely, Dare saw her uneasiness, and it bothered him. She’d been through enough without him badgering her. Gently, he asked, “Anything else you want to know, Molly?”

Her bravery waned, but she finally asked, “Do you travel a lot with your work?”

“These days, not as far and not as often. Trace says I’m semiretired. Only when a really important case comes along do I get involved.” Only when he felt he was truly needed, or if it became personal, as it had with Alani.

Neither of them would ever say that it was a good thing that Alani had been taken. But at the same time, if she hadn’t been … what would have happened to Molly? If not for Alani, Dare wouldn’t have been there, and Molly would have had no one to get her out of that hellhole, and no one to protect her even if she had managed to escape.

As if they shared that thought, their gazes locked and held. Dare felt the growing sexual tension between them.

Molly’s lips parted; Dare’s control slipped.

Knowing he was a goner, he took a step toward her—and his cell phone rang. Brought back to his senses, Dare stopped dead in his tracks.

Sad, and maybe a little lost, Molly gave a halfhearted smile. “Do you need privacy for that call?”

Oh, no, he wouldn’t let her slip away that easily. “No. Stay put.” He waited until she leaned back against the wall, then added, “I’ll only be a second.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DARE HATED THE interruption, but since most calls went through the house phone, where Chris could vet them, any call on his cell was personal and therefore important.

With one last lingering look at Molly, he walked over to retrieve his phone from atop the refrigerator. After a quick glance at the number to identify his caller, he flipped the phone open. “Yeah?”

Without preamble, Trace said, “Would you be willing to do me a favor?”

“Depends.” Dare looked at Molly. For Trace, he usually gave blind agreement, knowing that his friend only asked when necessary. But now he had someone else’s welfare to consider. For now at least, ensuring Molly’s safety was his number-one priority. “What’s up?”

Frustration sounded in Trace’s tone. “Alani is insisting on meeting your … complication.”

Dare’s mouth twitched at how Trace put that. Molly was a complication, all right, in more ways than he’d figured on. But maybe he should stop referring to her as such, considering how she’d gotten under his skin. “Why?”

“Hell if I know. I hate to ask, Dare. God knows you’ve done enough. But I think it might be good for her to talk to another woman who’s been through the same thing.”

Watching Molly wander over to the heavy bag to give it a tentative push, Dare said, “It wasn’t the same. I told you that.”

“And I told Alani. But she’s pressing me for a meeting anyway.”

Molly tried smacking the heavy bag, and, with an expression of pain, she cradled her hand and frowned.

The personalities of the two women couldn’t be more disparate; one was a commonsense survivor, the other a very lovable princess. “Want to tell me why?”

It wasn’t easy for Trace to admit that he needed help with his sister. “She’s having trouble adjusting, Dare. I’m worried about her.”

“Hang on.” Dare lowered the phone, which gained Molly’s attention. When she looked toward him, he said, “Alani wants to meet with you.”

Surprise flashed over her features. “Me? But why?”

“You were both taken, both held against your will. Knowing Alani, she’s probably worried about you still, and she maybe just wants to connect with someone who’ll understand what she’s been through.” Already knowing what her answer would be, Dare waited.

“Is she okay?”

That was debatable, but Dare said only, “She’s safe and healthy, and still coping.”

“Well, sure. I mean, of course she is.” Hands together, brows down in worry, Molly nodded. “I’d be happy to meet her if she thinks that will help. But when?”

Dare went back to the phone. “No problem, Trace. When were you thinking?”

“Let me talk to Alani, and I’ll get back to you. We’ll work it out.”

“Give me a call when you know.”

“Will do. And Dare, thank you.”

They hung up, and Dare dropped the phone down onto his gloves. He watched Molly, saw her put her hand to her stomach as if to calm an unsteady belly. Did the idea of meeting with Alani distress her? Would it be an ugly reminder to her of how she had been separated and treated differently from the others?

“I feel so bad for her.” She looked up at Dare. “She’s young, isn’t she?”

Molly’s capacity for compassion amazed Dare. “She’s twenty-two.”

Appearing distressed, Molly shook her head. “Thank God she has you, Dare. I’m not sure anyone else could have gotten her out of there.”

Dare stepped over closer to the heavy bag. “Molly?”

She jerked her attention back to him. “Hmm?”

“How are you feeling?”

She waved that off. “I’m fine.”

Something was going on in that quick mind of hers—but what? Molly hadn’t come downstairs just to talk to him about his work or his social life. She wanted, needed, something.

For now, Dare let her keep her distance. Besides, he was sweaty as hell and still edgy with lust. He figured he could work himself into the ground, and the second he saw Molly again it wouldn’t matter one iota.

“You know,” he said to her, “you always say you’re fine, about everything.”

As if to keep from chickening out, she rushed into speech. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

His senses prickled. “We were talking.”

“I know, but there’s something else I wanted to know.”

“Yeah?” What more could there be? She had the basics of his history. If she wanted a body count, she could forget it. He didn’t dwell on the men he’d killed, but he didn’t celebrate them, either.