Home > Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(55)

Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(55)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

“That’s too ba—Ben Haugen, as in a Ranger?”

Ben’s face went blank. He nodded.

Frowning, Anne moved closer in case he needed her help.

“Jesus fuck. You’re a legend, man. I’m proud to meet you.” Harrison turned to Travis. “Bro, you’re playing with an Army Ranger sniper.”

Well. No wonder the man was so comfortable with team games.

Travis grinned. “And Robert tried to say you’d missed? What a dick.”

“C’mon, let me treat you to a beer.” Harrison slapped Ben on the back.

When Ben gave her an inquiring glance, she smiled and nodded. She needed to start debriefing the team on the latest exercise; he might as well go have a drink.

As Ben and Harrison headed toward the front yard and the cooler, Anne noticed her father in the parking area. He strolled up, shoulders still military straight, gray hair kept short, aware of everything around him. If a grizzly attacked, her father would probably put it down in speedy order.

“Hey, Dad,” Travis said from beside her. “What brings you out?”

“I came with Harrison to watch the last game—or should I call it a brawl?” He smiled and slapped his son’s shoulder. “Fine job with the old one-two-three.”

Travis grinned. “I let a punch past that I should have blocked, but it was a good fight.”

“Until the end,” Anne’s father said and turned to her.

Her hopes rose for one brief second. Since she’d kept an eye on the others, she knew her brother had skirmished well. She also knew her fighting had been as good, if not better than her brother’s. Would her father say so?

“What the H were you doing out there in the fight?” her father snapped. “What Robert did was exactly what I worry about—that you’ll get yourself killed. You shouldn’t have been involved at all.”

Her anticipation collapsed into bitter disappointment, and the backs of her eyes prickled. Why did she always set herself up this way? She knew—knew—he’d never praise her fighting. He’d been generous with approval when she was singing, cooking, painting, or doing school projects and homework.

But get a compliment from her father for something traditionally performed by a male? Never.

Her head knew he wouldn’t ever change; for some stupid reason, her heart kept hoping.

“Maybe…” She evened out her voice. “Maybe someday, you’ll realize you were a good teacher.” He’d taught all his children to fight and shoot, although when Anne started taking martial arts seriously, he’d refused to teach her any longer. She’d paid for additional lessons with her own money—although her mother had quietly raised her allowance to help. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to gather my crew and start the analysis.”

By the time she’d reached her group, he was already leaving. She shook her head. Wasn’t it funny that a parent could shape who a person was—and then refuse to see them that way?

While Travis handed out sandwiches, beer, and cold drinks, the team sprawled out on blankets as Anne led the wrap-up and dissection of the scenarios. Everyone ignored the fact three team members were missing. The discussion was lively.

After dismissing the group, she waved a farewell to Travis and headed for the parking lot.

Ben waited patiently by the SUV where Bronx had been tied.

Anne glanced around and saw the retriever was hunting field mice in the grass.

“Time to go, buddy,” Ben called before smiling at her. “You want to drive or want me to?”

“You can, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I’d love to be pampered.”

He touched her cheek with gentle fingers. “It would be my pleasure to pamper you, Ma’am.”

She laid her hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the T-shirt. Somehow, being cared for by him felt…different…than from her slaves, yet his obvious delight in serving was the same. “Thank you.”

The highway was dark and soon empty as the others turned off, going their various ways. Leaving the smaller road, Ben swung onto Highway 19, heading south.

After pulling a sparkling water from the cooler for her and handing him a Coke, Anne settled back against the seat cushions. “So. Army Rangers?”

“Been a few years now.”

She took a sip of her drink and considered asking more questions. Something wasn’t quite right with him, and she itched to explore further. To fix whatever was wrong. But, it wouldn’t be fair to him. He wasn’t her boy; he wasn’t her job. “Okay. So what did you think of the team?”

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