Man Beneath the Uniform Read online

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  Contents:

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  © 2004

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  One

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  Zack Sheridan scowled at the streetlights shining through the wide window, then glared at the man sitting opposite him in the booth.

  "She studies fish?" Danny Akiona, a full-blooded Hawaiian and a Navy SEAL, looked at his friend and laughed.

  Irritating as hell, Zack told himself. Especially since, if the shoe had been on the other foot and it was Danny facing this assignment, Zack would be the one laughing.

  Zack took another long swallow of his beer. But even the crisp bite of the alcohol couldn't quite take the sting out of his friend's laughter. Leaning back in the red leather booth, he turned to look at the crowd filling the waterfront bar.

  Couples sat in booths and singles prowled the edges of the mob, looking to catch someone's—anyone's—eye. Music blared from an ancient jukebox loaded with everything from golden oldies to hip-hop. The waitresses, decked out in skintight, black leather miniskirts, red, belly-baring halter tops and red spike heels, dipped and swayed through the crowd, balancing trays full of drinks.

  Zack sighed as he checked out an especially appealing blond barmaid with a size forty chest packed into a size thirty-four top. If he'd been a free man, he'd have made a play for her and enjoyed his first night of leave. But since he was facing thirty days of pure hell, he just didn't have the heart for it.

  "Oh, man." Danny chuckled and shook his head. "This is just too funny."

  Zack shot him a look hot enough to cook bacon. "I'm glad somebody's getting a laugh out of this."

  "It's perfect, man." Danny's dark brown eyes glittered with humor and his perpetually tanned face split into a wide grin. "We get a month's R and R and you get sentenced to baby-sit a scientist." He lifted his beer in a toast. "Here's to the women I'll get now that you're out of action for a while."

  He'd be out of action, all right, Zack thought miserably. Thirty long days of riding herd on some babe born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a yen to play with fish.

  "Gonna be a long month." Zack shifted a glance out the front window of the bar to the bustling Street beyond the glass.

  Even on a chilly February evening, Savannah was crawling with tourists. With cameras slung around their necks and guidebooks clutched like the Bible, visitors wandered narrow streets and the waterfront. Gift shops did a bumper business year round and the locals tidily counted their pennies and waited for summer, when even bigger crowds would show up.

  Savannah was a small Southern town disguised as a bustling city. It had a great harbor, beautiful old homes and a couple of really terrific bars. Ordinarily, Zack would be looking forward to a little down time here. He'd be wandering the town looking to pick up a couple of Southern belles. But this trip was all business.

  Or punishment, rather.

  "It's no surprise, man," Danny said, bringing Zack's attention back to the matter at hand. "Hell, you knew you'd have your ass kicked the minute we got back home."

  Zack moved his glass through the water rings it had left on the highly varnished wood table. Glancing at his friend, he asked, "So, do you think I should have done it differently?"

  "Hell, no." Danny straightened up in the red leather seat and leaned both forearms on the tabletop. "If you hadn't gone back for Hunter…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "Unacceptable. No way. We had to go back for him. Orders or not."

  "Hoo-yah." They lifted their glasses and clinked them together.

  Zack nodded to himself. He knew he'd done the right thing—the only thing he could have done. But it was good to hear his friend back him up on it. The rules were simple and he lived by them. A Navy SEAL didn't leave a man behind. If a team of six men went in, then six men had better damn well come back out. Dead or alive, every SEAL always came home.

  Memories rushed through his brain. Instants, moments, rose up, were recognized and then faded into the next. He remembered it all clearly. That mission two weeks before had gone bad from the beginning. His team had been sent in to infiltrate, rescue, then exit, fast.

  But someone had screwed up the intel. The hostage wasn't where he was supposed to be. By the time Zack and the others had found their man, time was short. With only a couple of hours left before extraction, their cover was blown and Hunter Cabot had been shot. Zack and the rest of the team had made it back to the Zodiac boat with the hostage before they'd realized Hunter was missing.

  Zack had reported in and had been given the order to cut Hunter loose and get the hell out of Dodge. Just remembering the easy dismissal of a SEAL's life made him furious all over again. Zack's hand tightened around his beer. No way in hell would he agree to leaving one of his team behind. So he'd disregarded orders, left the team to guard the hostage and went back in himself to drag Hunter's ass out.

  Now Hunter was recovering in the hospital, surrounded by gorgeous nurses and Zack had been sentenced to serve as nursemaid to a geek.

  Yeah, life was fair.

  "What kind of fish, you think?"

  "Huh?" Frowning, Zack looked at Danny.

  "I mean," his friend said, "maybe it's something interesting like sharks. Back home I saw a shark once, big enough to—"

  "Please." Zack held up a hand and winced. "No Hawaiian folk tales today, okay?"

  Nothing Danny liked better than telling tall tales about the beauty of Hawaii, the big waves, the gorgeous women and just how many of those women were nuts about Danny Akiona. Zack wasn't in the mood.

  Danny grinned. "Fine. When do you go see the fish woman?"

  "I'm a free man until tomorrow morning, 0800."

  "Hell, brudda," Danny used the island slang for "brother," and his voice was almost musical as he added, "that leaves us all of tonight."

  Zack smiled, feeling a little better. Eight o'clock was hours away yet. No point in acting like he was in prison until the cell door actually slammed shut. "You're right."

  "Damn straight." Danny signaled the waitress for another round of drinks, then looked at Zack. "I say we find us a couple of ladies and then pack in a whole month's worth of R and R into one night. If it's your last, let's make it count, brudda."

  One night. Hell, they'd done it before. He and Danny had torn up towns and welcomed the dawn in too many countries to count. No reason why he couldn't have a big blowout the night before starting a new assignment.

  Whatever Kimberly Danforth—God, what a snooty name—was like, the fish geek wouldn't have to be faced until tomorrow. And as any SEAL knew, you lived life one moment at a time, 'cause you never knew if you'd get another.

  "I've said it before, I'll say it again," Zack said, ordering himself to relax and enjoy the rest of the night. "Hula," he said, using Danny's team nickname, "I like your style."

  * * *

  Kim Danforth glared at the telephone receiver in her hand and then slapped it back against her ear. Frustration bubbled inside her, blending with the blossoming sense that she was losing this battle. "Dad, this is ridiculous. I don't want a guard dog and I certainly don't need one."

  Abraham Danforth's voice, fluid, strong and commanding, came across the line. "Kimberly, do this for me. These threats are not to be ignored."

  Fear for her father's safety took the edge off her frustration and she winced. "Dad, first of all, it's only one threat and it was made against you, not me."

  There was a long pause and she heard him inhale slowly, deeply. She counted to ten, knowing he was doing the same. Always careful about what he said, Abraham prided himself on his self-control. Even around the family dinner table, he'd always weighed every word, thinking carefully before speaking. Whi
ch was only one of the reasons why he made such an excellent senatorial candidate.

  "Kimberly, whoever is behind this would know that the surest way to hurt me would be to hurt my family."

  Kim sighed. Her father hadn't always been the most involved, caring parent. A man of business, he'd spent most of his energies growing the Danforth bank balances rather than spending time with his five kids. But he loved his children, and she knew he worried most about her, his youngest child and only daughter.

  She also knew that a part of her father was using this situation as an attempt to be the kind of father he wished he'd been when she was growing up. The stalker sending threatening e-mail messages to Abraham hadn't threatened his family. Kim knew perfectly well that she wasn't in any real danger—which made the idea of having a bodyguard that much harder to accept. But she couldn't bring herself to turn her father down and give him one more thing to worry about.

  Besides, her dad's younger brother, her uncle Harold, had asked her to go along with her father's request. Uncle Harold had said the entire family would be relieved if she was safe.

  "Give the old man a break, will you?" he asked.

  She smiled and shook her head. There was simply no way out of this. Between her father and her uncle, she was outnumbered and she knew it. Harold Danforth had been a substitute father to her and her brothers. Without the responsibilities of running the Danforth business interests, he'd had more time to give to both his own children and Abraham's.

  "Fine," she said. "He can protect me. But he's not living here."

  "There's room." Abraham's voice became abrupt as if now that he'd won the argument, he was ready to move on. "Just put him up in your spare room."

  "Dad, I'm not letting a stranger stay in my house."

  "He's not a stranger. He's the son of—"

  "Your old navy buddy, I know," she said interrupting him before she heard the old war stories again. The only war she was interested in at the moment was the personal war for her own independence.

  "Zack should be there any minute," her father was saying. "I expect you to cooperate."

  "Dad—"

  "Have to run now."

  The dial tone ringing in her ear kept her from arguing further. "Nice chatting with you, Dad," she said tightly, wishing that just once, she could have gotten in the last word.

  When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Kim was still primed for battle.

  She opened the door to a grim-faced man in dark glasses. He seemed to take up a lot of space on her small, flower-filled front porch. Was this Navy SEAL supposed to be her protector? Weren't military men a little better groomed? "Yes?"

  The man frowned and reached up to rub his forehead. "Do you have to shout?" His voice sounded creaky, careful.

  "I wasn't shouting."

  "You're still shouting," he told her and reluctantly took off his sunglasses, wincing at the brightness of the day. "Man, morning sucks."

  Kim stared up at him. Way up. A couple of inches over six feet tall, the man was broad in the shoulders, had a narrow waist and legs long enough for two men. His reddish brown hair was cut militarily high and tight. His ancient jeans were threadbare at the knee and faded. The collar of his dark red shirt was twisted, one side up, the other tucked beneath the neck of the shirt. He also wore a dark blue sweatshirt that looked as worn as his jeans. His narrowed eyes were a mixture of blue and green—and the red streaks surrounding the irises told her he'd had a late night.

  This couldn't be the man her father was sending, she told herself. Zack Sheridan was a Navy SEAL—not a man she'd expect to show up with a hangover and two days' worth of stubble on his square jaws.

  She wished suddenly for a steel security screen door.

  "What do you want?"

  "Loaded question," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate right through her without even trying. "What I want," he said, "is aspirin, a dark room … and to be anywhere but here."

  "Charming," she said, clutching the door in a tight grip, ready to slam it home and lock it. "Why don't you go get those things? Start with the last one and go away."

  She swung the door closed, but he shoved one sneaker-clad foot between the door and the jamb.

  Kim narrowed her eyes on him and ignored the curl of fear in the pit of her stomach. Naturally, she didn't let him know it. "Move that foot mister, or I'll break it."

  "Let's start over," he said, not moving the foot an inch.

  "Let's not." She pushed the door harder.

  His mouth tightened. "That hurts, you know."

  "That's sort of the point."

  He sighed. "You Kimberly Danforth?"

  "Is that supposed to ensure my trust? You knowing my name?" She put her whole weight behind the door now and thought she felt it budge.

  He slapped one hand on the door and pushed back. With very little effort, he managed to shove the door open a crack farther.

  "Hey. Let go of my door."

  "I'm Zack Sheridan."

  "Good for you."

  "Your father sent me."

  She released her hold on the door and his heavy hand pushed it wide open until it swung back and slammed into the wall behind it.

  "Damn, you're loud," he muttered, reaching one hand to his forehead again as if trying to hold his skull together.

  Kim was rethinking this whole proposition. The man was obviously hungover, not exactly inspiring a lot of trust. He looked more like a pirate than a navy SEAL. Danger emanated from him, reached out toward her, and gave her nerves a little shake.

  If there was a trickle of pure female appreciation mixed in with the trepidation rolling through her stomach, she chose to ignore it.

  Sure, she'd agreed to her father's request. But she had a feeling that Abraham Danforth wouldn't be so in favor of Zack staying with his little girl if he could get a good look at the man.

  So she went with her instincts.

  "I don't want you here," Kim said, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze squarely. "I don't need you here, either, despite what my father thinks."

  "Lady, I just take orders."

  "A centuries-old claim of innocence."

  "Huh?" Those blue-green eyes of his narrowed.

  "Look." She pulled her glasses off the collar of her V-necked blue T-shirt and put them on. She only used the glasses for reading, but she'd found out long ago that wearing them gave her a little distance. "I don't need your help, so why don't you just go?"

  "Wish I could," he said and stepped into her house, practically sighing at the cool shade of the room.

  "Well, please. Come in," she said dryly.

  He glanced around the room as if she hadn't spoken and Kim followed his gaze, looking at her home through a stranger's eyes.

  The small, two-bedroom cottage was more than a hundred years old, with all the charm and foibles of an antique. The plumbing wasn't the greatest, but there were built-in bookshelves and a built-in china hutch in the kitchen. There were niches cut into the walls for vases of flowers, but the bathroom was pitifully small. The yard was no bigger than a postage stamp, but the tree in the front yard was eighty years old and gave much-needed shade in summer.

  The living room was, like the rest of the place, tiny. But the soft blue walls looked like a cloudless summer sky. A blue-and-white plaid sofa sat in front of a miniature tiled hearth and brightly colored rag rugs dotted the glistening wood floor. On the walls, she'd hung framed photos from her travels and a couple of paintings done by a marine artist. It was home. It was all hers. And she didn't want to share it.

  Not even temporarily.

  "Nice place," he said.

  "Thank you. Now, if you don't mind—"

  "Lady…" He folded his arms across his pretty impressive chest and stared down at her through bloodshot eyes. "Whether you like it or not, we're in this together."

  The room suddenly felt a lot smaller and the air a little warmer. "I don't like it."

  "If you think my idea of a vacation is ridi
ng herd on a fish geek—"

  "Excuse me?" Kim straightened up to her less-than-impressive five feet seven inches and tried to look down her nose at him. Not easy to do when she had to tilt her head back all the way to meet his gaze. "I happen to be a Doctor of Marine Biology."

  "Yeah? So?"

  "So I prefer that term to fish geek."

  "Who wouldn't?" He chuckled, then the sound trailed off as he caught her irritation. "Fine. Doctor Danforth…"

  She nodded.

  "Climb down off your high dolphin because for the next little while, you and me are gonna be best friends."

  Something hot and sharp and really annoying blasted through her. "I don't—"

  He cocked his head and gave her a patient smile he probably reserved for small children and half-wits.

  "I'm calling my father." A bluff, but it was all she had.

  He nodded. "Give him my best."

  Kim's small flicker of irritation burst like a Fourth of July firecracker. No way was she going to be able to have this man living in her home for thirty days. "I'll call your commanding officer to complain."

  Zack plopped down onto one of her chairs, sighed and stretched out his long legs in front of him like a man settling in and getting comfortable. "He'll be happy to know I reported to duty on time."

  Kim was losing control. She felt it slipping from her fingers like the string of a helium balloon on a windy day. Of course his commanding officer wouldn't listen to her. Her father had already seen to that.

  "I'll call the police. They'll arrest you."

  For one brief moment, hope lit up his eyes. "You think?" Then he shook his head. "Nah. Forget it, darlin'."

  She stiffened. "Don't call me darlin'."

  He slipped his sunglasses on, rested his head on the chair back and sighed. "No darlin'. Got it."

  "This isn't going to work out," Kim said tightly.

  Tipping his shades down a fraction of an inch, he gave her a warm look and a smile that sent something completely unexpected scuttling through her. "Baby, I'm a SEAL. I can make anything work."