Her Kind of Hero: The Last Mercenary

“I’ll blow Bojo’s safety valve for him if he doesn’t give back my shirt!” Mac assured his boss. “And you haven’t even introduced us.”

Callie smiled and held out her hand. “Hi! I’m Callie Kirby.”

“I’m MacPherson,” he replied, shaking it. “I took a mortar hit on our last mission, so I’ve got KP until I get used to this damned prosthesis,” he added, lifting his right leg and grimacing.

“You’d better get used to it pretty soon, or you’re going to be permanent in that kitchen,” Micah assured him. “Now I’d like to get Callie settled. She’s been through a lot.”

The other man became somber all at once. “She’s not what I expected,” Mac said reluctantly as he studied her.

“I can imagine,” she said with a sad little smile. “You were expecting a woman who was blond and as good-looking as Micah. I know I don’t look like him…”

Before she could add that they weren’t related, the older man interrupted her. “That isn’t what I meant,” Mac replied at once.

She shrugged and smiled carelessly. “Of course not. I really am tired,” she added.

“Come on,” Micah said. “Have you got something for sandwiches?” Micah asked Mac. “We didn’t stop for food.”

“Sure,” Mac replied, visibly uncomfortable. “I’ll get right to it.”

Micah led Callie down the long hall and turned her into a large, airy room with a picture window overlooking the ocean. Except for the iron bars, it looked very touristy.

“Mac does most of the cooking. We used to take turns, but after he was wounded, and we found out that his father once owned a French restaurant, we gave him permanent KP.” He glanced at her with a wry smile. “We thought it might encourage him to put on the prosthesis and try to be rehabilitated. Apparently it’s working.”

“He’s very nice.”

He closed the door and turned to her, his face somber. “He meant that the sort of woman I usually bring here is blond and long-legged and buxom, and that they usually ignore the hired help.”

She flushed. “You didn’t have to explain.”

“Didn’t I?” His eyes narrowed on her face as a potential complication presented itself when he thought about having Lisette take Callie on that shopping trip. The woman was extremely jealous, and Callie had been through enough turmoil already. “I haven’t told Mac or Lisette that we aren’t related. It might be as well to let them continue thinking we are, for the time being.”

She wondered why, but she wasn’t going to lower her pride by asking. “Sure,” she said with careful indifference. “No problem.” Presumably this Lisette would be jealous of a stepsister, but not of a real one. Micah obviously didn’t want to cause waves. She smiled drowsily. “I think I could sleep the clock around.”

“If Maddie’s her usual efficient self, she should have packed a nightgown for you.”

“I don’t have a gown,” she murmured absently, glancing at the case he’d put down beside the bed.

“Pajamas, then.”

“Uh, I don’t wear those, either.”

He stood up and looked at her pointedly. “What do you sleep in?”

She cleared her throat. “Never mind.”

His eyebrows arched. “Well, well. No wonder you locked your bedroom door when you lived with us.”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” she said before she thought.

His black eyes narrowed. “You’ve had a hell of a life, haven’t you? And now this, on top of the past.”

She bit her lower lip. “This door does have a lock?” she persisted. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent my life behind locked doors. It’s a hard habit to break, and not because of the way I sleep.”

“The door has a lock, and you can use it. But I hope you know that you’re safe with me,” he replied quietly. “Seducing innocents isn’t a habit with me, and my men are trustworthy.”

“It’s not that.”

“If you’re nervous about being the only woman here, I could get Lisette to come over and spend the night in this room with you,” he added.

“No,” she said, reluctant to meet his paramour. “I’ll be fine.”

“You haven’t been alone since it happened,” he reminded her. “It may be more traumatic than you think, especially in the dark.”

“I’ll be all right, Micah,” she said firmly.

He drew in an irritated breath. “All right. But if you’re frightened, I’m next door, through the bathroom.”

She gave him a curious look.

“I’ll wear pajama bottoms while you’re in residence,” he said dryly, reading her mind accurately.

She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

“Don’t you want to eat something before you go to bed?”

She shook her head. “I’m too tired. Micah, thanks for saving me. I didn’t expect it, but I’m very grateful.”

He shrugged. “You’re family,” he said flatly, and she grimaced when he wasn’t looking. He turned and went out, hesitating before he closed the door. “Someone will be within shouting distance, night or day.”

Her heart ached. He still didn’t see her as a woman. Probably, he never would. “Okay,” she replied. “Thanks.”

He closed the door.

She was so tired that she was sure she’d be asleep almost as soon as her head connected with the pillow. But that wasn’t the case. Dressed only in her cotton briefs, she lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, absorbing the shock of the past two days. It seemed unreal now, here where she was safe. As her strung muscles began to relax, she tugged the cool, expensive designer sheet in a yellow rose pattern over her and felt her mind begin to drift slowly into peaceful oblivion.

“Callie? Callie!”

The deep forceful voice combined with steely fingers on her upper arms to shake her out of the nightmare she’d been having. She was hoarse from the scream that had dragged Micah from sleep and sent him running to the connecting door with a skeleton key.

She was sitting up, both her wrists in one of his lean, warm hands, her eyes wide with terror. She was shaking all over, and not from the air-conditioning.

He leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. His eyes went helplessly to the full, high thrust of her tip-tilted little breasts, their nipples relaxed from sleep. She was so shaken that she didn’t even feel embarrassment. Her pale blue eyes were wild with horror.

“You’re safe, baby,” he said gently. “It’s all right.”

“Micah!” came a shout from outside the bedroom door. It was Bojo, alert as usual to any odd noise.

“Callie just had a nightmare, Bojo. It’s okay. Go back to bed!”