Resisting Her Commander Hero

The wild jumble of emotions had terrified him and he’d done what any man did when dealing with stuff he didn’t know how to handle. He’d shoved everything deep and stayed away. Partly because she would have prodded and poked until he’d told her all his dark secrets and revealed his pain and feelings of failure. But mostly because, well...he didn’t trust himself around her because she drew him in as no other woman did.

His mother swore Frankie had changed since her wild adolescence days but Nate wasn’t so sure. That crazy stunt was exactly what the wild child would have done in the past. And damn the consequences.

His jaw clenched when he imagined what those consequences would have been if she hadn’t been hooked to a lifeline. She would have plummeted to her death with him.

What kind of reckless fool did that?

But even as the thought occurred, he knew. It was the kind that put someone else’s life ahead of their own. The fiercely loyal kind that had your back; no questions asked—no matter what. The kind he’d known only in his best friends Jack and Ty, and then his buddies in the teams.

Yet, without hesitation, she’d dived off a slippery ledge to save him. In spite of everything he’d done to push her away.

Scowling down at the rapidly cooling contents of his cup, Nate wondered if he was punishing Frankie for all his confusing emotions. A prickle of warning tightened the back of his skull and his head came up just as the very woman he’d been thinking about sauntered through the automatic doors. Francis Abigail Bryce. His best buddy’s sister. The wild, exuberant girl he’d watched over for too many years while growing up—and had spent a further twelve trying to forget.

Sucking in a slow deliberate breath, Nate pushed away from the wall and willed his body to relax, his mind to calm. It was a trick he’d learned in the teams. A trick that helped him focus only on the mission ahead while ignoring everything else.

Dealing with Frankie was guaranteed to be as dangerous, as unpredictable and explosive as any of the classified missions he’d survived.

Without taking his eyes off her artfully messy red-gold hair, he threw the rest of his coffee into the bushes and tossed the cup in the nearest trash bin.

He was about to head after her when the door burst open and a young medic ran out, only to stop abruptly when she saw him. “Nate,” Paige said breathlessly. “Th-thank God.”

Despite his impatience, Nate paused and eyed his best friend’s fiancée. “Problem, Doc?”

“Yes,” she huffed worriedly, craning her neck and squinting into the darkness. “She shouldn’t be driving. I was just about to go wrestle her into my car so she didn’t have to drive home but I’m on duty.”

“What I wouldn’t give to see that?” he drawled, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry, Paige. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure, Nate? Because Frankie is—”

“I’m sure, Doc,” he interrupted gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll get our girl home safely.” And with his hands shoved into his pockets, he took off into the darkness, not about to admit that he still thought of her that way.

Our girl.

How many times had he, Jack and Ty said 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.