Navy SEAL Rescuer by Shirlee McCoy Page B

He’d give her that. But toughness wouldn’t be
enough to keep Catherine and her grandmother safe.
    “Hope you don’t mind riding in the back, Osborne,” Logan
said.
    “Whatever gets us there.” He slid into the backseat, the scent
of leather and sweat filling his nose as Logan pulled away.
    Darius shifted uncomfortably, his leg throbbing in time with
his heartbeat, the steady pain more of an annoyance than anything. He had good
days and bad days. Yesterday had been better than some and worse than others.
Aside from losing his lower leg, he’d also broken his femur and his back in the
explosion. Both had healed. Sometimes, though, pain drove him from bed in the
middle of the night, left him sweaty and cold and wishing for more than Tylenol.
He never took anything more. With a job like his, he couldn’t afford to. That
had worked out well for Catherine and Eileen.
    Lights spilled out from the living room window as they pulled
into Darius’s driveway. Small and well-built, the farmhouse had seen better
days, the peeling paint on the wood siding and the sagging front porch just two
of the projects that Darius planned to work on during his vacation. He could
have afforded a nice house in town, but the idea of land had appealed to him,
and twenty acres had been something he couldn’t resist. He’d bought the property
on a whim, but had spent little time there. Maybe one day his workload would
lighten up, and he’d make the little house into the home he’d been craving for
years.
    Catherine hopped out of the cruiser before Randal put it in
Park, racing up the porch stairs as Darius got out of the cruiser.
    “She’s in a hurry,” Randal said.
    “I don’t think riding in a police car fills her with warm fuzzy
feelings,” Darius responded.
    “Neither does anything that has do with the sheriff’s
department. I can’t say I blame her, but it’s going to be hard to help someone
who has built walls as high as hers.”
    “She’ll do anything for Eileen. That’s the angle we need to
play.”
    “You’ve got a point, but I hate to play anything. Both women
have been through enough. This newest trouble doesn’t seem fair.”
    “Life isn’t, is it?” Darius responded as they followed
Catherine into the house, but he couldn’t help thinking that Logan was right.
The two women had been through enough. They deserved a little peace, and he was
going to do his best to help them find it.
    Ashton stood in the small foyer, his shoulder against the wall,
his arms crossed over his chest. One of the newest members of the Personal
Securities team, he’d worked in counterintelligence before he’d become a
security specialist. Aside from that and the fact that he was excellent at his
job, Darius knew little about him.
    “That took a lot less time than I thought it would. Do you
still need me here?” His voice had just a hint of an accent that might have been
British or French or something else entirely.
    “I think we’re good. Are you free if I need backup on this case
during the next couple of weeks?”
    “I’m never free, Osborne, but for a price, I can help.” The
mercenary comment didn’t surprise Darius. Ashton commanded a high price for the
jobs he did.
    “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for coming out on short
notice.”
    “Like I said, for a price, I’ll do just about anything. The
client is in the back bedroom. For the record, she didn’t do any snooping. Just
asked for a bed.”
    “That’s not like Eileen. I’d better check on her. Where is
she?” Catherine’s pale face looked even paler in the overhead light, freckles
dancing across her nose and cheeks, her red hair bright and silky-looking.
    Darius knew her skin would be velvety to the touch, knew her
shoulders were warm flesh over taut muscle.
    Knew that he needed to be very, very careful when he was around
her, because his fingers itched to slide over silken skin, sink into soft
hair.
    “Down the hall and to the right,” Ashton responded.