Hero for Hire

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Book: Read Hero for Hire for Free Online
Authors: Margaret Madigan
livelihood for?”
    I opened my mouth to answer, but shut it again instead. When he put it that way, I wasn’t just asking him to risk his life. He had children depending on him. I endangered all of them by asking Rafe to retrieve my journals. But I needed my journals. Even more lives depended on me getting them back.
    As I stood there, trying to come up with a cogent response, he caught my hand, grinning wickedly, once again throwing me off balance.
    “Actually, now that I think about it, I know exactly how you can pay me.” He brought my knuckles to his lips. My breath caught as he kissed each one, all the while holding my gaze with his amber eyes. “You can pay me in kisses. I can always use more of those.”
    I pulled my hand free and shoved down my flustered flicker of interest. That was not going to happen. This man was dangerous in ways I couldn’t even fathom.
    “Mr. Charming–”
    “I told you. Call me Rafe.”
    I leaned forward, embarrassment all gone. “Okay Rafe. How about this? I can fix those people out there. The friends you thought you’d lost. Your family. Anyone who is still out there, anyone who is not too far gone, we can save. How can you not be a part of that, just because I can’t pay you more? I know I risk more than just you or me, but I have to make this right. I need you. Please help me.”
    He straightened, folding his arms across his solid chest. Silence stretched between us as he measured me with serious eyes. The breeze blew across my face, bringing with it the smoke from the battle they’d just fought. I waited, hoping desperately.
    “You’re sure you can fix them?” he asked finally.
    I uncurled my clenched fists and pressed my fingers against my thighs, allowing the relief to spread throughout my body. “I’m positive. If I have my journals, I can fix this.”
    “Okay. I’ll get your journals.” He held up his hand, forestalling my thank you. “But there are ground rules. You’re agreeing to follow every one of them.”
    I grinned at him, too overwhelmed to actually speak, so I just nodded my assent. Whatever it took.
    He grabbed my hand and tugged, a smile quirking his mouth. “Good. Now let’s go find some food. I plan better on a full belly.”
    * * * *
    When we stepped into the spacious kitchen, Rafe still had possession of my hand. It felt awkward, but surprisingly nice. I spent most of the trip downstairs worrying alternately about what message I sent by allowing him to hold my hand and what ground rules I’d just agreed to, sight unseen. I had only a moment to spare for his mercurial emotions before we entered the kitchen.
    Doc stood on a stool next to the stove as he stirred something in a pot. The boys were nowhere to be seen, though I heard the faint sound of music mingling with male voices overhead. The party must be upstairs on one of the floors we passed between the roof and the kitchen.
    The smell coming from the stove was wonderful, rich and hearty. It smelled like real food, something I hadn’t had in forever. Doc glanced our way, his gaze pausing momentarily on our linked hands before sweeping up to Rafe’s face. Something passed between them. Doc shrugged, gave the pot another stir, then hopped down off the stool.
    I took my hand out of Rafe’s grasp. He nudged me into a seat as Doc stalked over to the mahogany table, climbed up on another high stool and sat. This put him at perfect eating height for the table. I wondered idly just how long they’d searched to find the perfect stool. Or for the table. It probably weighed 400 pounds, with a rich buttery sheen to the top. Like most of the furnishings in here, it was beautiful, but didn’t go with the sleek modern style of the house itself.
    Doc raised an eyebrow at Rafe. “So, are we working or what?”
    I leaned back in my dining chair, deferring to Rafe. His people, his place to answer.
    “Yeah,” Rafe said. “We’ve come down to work out the details.” He glanced at the stove. “What’s

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