Armored Hearts (The Town of Pearl 7)

“Dogs can be wonderful for a lot of things, even therapy,” she added.

She glanced at Flynn and something changed in his eyes.

Flynn seemed to be the calmest and quietest of the men. She would catch him watching her and it made her feel aroused and yet on edge. She got the gist of who these men were. Trained, guns for hire, retired Special Forces. Was there more to know? Her gut clenched as anxiety, awareness consumed her. The five men were all in the kitchen with her and their three extra-large killer dogs. How could she be any safer? So why was she shaking?

“There were a lot of strays in Iraq, when we were serving. You remember that black one with the gray eyes, Fisher?” Flynn asked him.

Fisher stood there with his arms crossed in front of his thick, chest. The man was filled with muscles. His jeans hugged his hips and the dark T-shirt he wore accentuated his pectoral muscl

es and his biceps with the tattoos on them.

“I sure do. That was a great dog. Showed up every morning for chow time.” He gave a small chuckle that came out like a grunt.

“That would have been a great dog to take back here with us,” Grey added.

“Why didn’t you? Is there a law against that?” she asked.

“Roadside bomb,” Fenton said and looked really pissed off. It was obvious that the circumstances of the dog’s demise upset them.

“How sad. Was anyone else hurt?” she asked.

They were all silent, and she had a feeling they lost fellow troops.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

She held onto the stool as she attempted to get up. The strain on her muscles and especially her ribs made her lose her breath. Both Flynn and Ford reached for her, and when they touched, she was shocked at the attraction she felt.

They seemed to feel it, too, as they both helped her back onto the stool with the dogs whimpering as if concerned.

“She’ll be okay, guys. Go to your places,” Ford told the dogs and all three turned around and ran out of the room.

* * * *

Flynn didn’t want to release his hold on India. The connection and spark he felt touching her was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was so crazy. He’d never really reacted to a woman the way he was reacting to India. He’d had his share of women. All of them had. None ever stayed in the same house as them. Maybe that was the difference. Flynn didn’t allow a woman to get close to him. Many clung, or immediately started talking about family and kids. Some just wanted to have sex with a soldier. He used the whole Special Forces title a time or two to get a hot chick in bed. But it was meaningless on both ends.

This conversation they all just had with India about the dog, about Iraq and the dog’s death, had never been brought up before. Yet, here they were, hanging out in the kitchen with a woman they hardly knew, and they were talking. The craziest part was that it felt right.

He was getting older. Maybe that was why this felt different? He looked back at India as she sipped from her coffee and Ford talked about the dogs and how well trained they were. Maybe it was simply the fact that India was gorgeous. As a matter of fact, after reading her file, he was pretty sure she was out of his league. Her profile read like some debutant with limos, designer clothing, high-maintenance tendencies and then some. He sure wasn’t cut out to be her doormat.

He stopped any further curiosity about the attraction that couldn’t happen. Instead, he made himself a plate of bacon and eggs.

* * * *

Ford helped India to the living room while Fisher grabbed some blankets and a pillow.

Grey was walking alongside them when they passed the front window that looked out over the porch.

“Is that a swinging bench out there?” she asked.

Ford held her around her hips as they paused by the window,

“Sure is. But I don’t think you’re up to that quite yet,” he told her.

She looked disappointed and it gave him a funny sensation inside. He actually felt guilty. Who was he to tell her that she wasn’t up for a swing on the bench? Then again, why would she want to do that? She was high class, wealthy, and probably dated men with deep pockets and designer suits.

“Maybe in a few days your ribs will feel a little less sore and you can try the swing. Some fresh air will do you good,” Fisher told her, breaking the silence.

She slowly sat down on the couch and he watched her scrunched up expression. He stared at her. That protective sensation was growing stronger in her presence.