Page 15 of Legacy's Call

She?Ronan lifted his eyes to look in the direction Miller now faced. Walking down the tight path was a woman wearing form-fitting, faded blue jeans, work boots, a blue t-shirt, and a green vest with yellow letters spelling “CHI” down the right side. Her reddish-blonde hair was pulled back, but a thick braid trailed over her shoulder. She wore no makeup and needed none. The sun had kissed her skin, and there was a spray of freckles on her cheeks and over her nose. She was tall, slender, and almost looked fragile; that was, until he saw her eyes. The blue of those eyes had seen too much. He’d seen that expression on warriors, soldiers, and people who had survived traumatic events. Still, he swallowed hard. She was beautiful and so damn unexpected in the bowels of a war-torn hell.

She stopped in front of them and measured both him and Wraith with a hard look. “You’re the Guardian team? I’m Fleur Buchanan, anti-trafficking officer for Children’s Hope International.”

“We are. I’m Ronan Alexander. This is Wraith. Over there is Jug, Wolf, and Stryker.”

The woman glanced at the men setting up camp as he pointed to them. She returned her gaze to himand cocked her head before asking, “They don’t have real names?”

Ronan chuckled. “They do, but we don’t use them.”

“Yet you introduced yourself. What’s your handle?”

“Skipper,” Wraith provided as he shot his friend a quick look. The asshat chose now to talk? He needed to have a come-to-Jesus meeting with the troublemaker.

“Because you’re the boss?” Her questions were rapid and direct. He liked that.

“Yes.” He crossed his arms. He could flow with direct. Niceties were something he pulled out in the States when he had to. His time in Guardian had been spent with warriors as direct as she was. “I was told you’d walk us through the process of convoy coordination.”

“I will. When do you want to go over it?” She talked to him as she watched his team start to unload the trailer they’d hauled across the country. The containers they unloaded were easy to identify. “Oh my God! Is that fuel?” A smile flashed, and her eyes lit up.

“Fuel, medicine, and food,” Miller said.

Ronan grunted when the woman threw herself athim and hugged him tightly. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you!” Her slight body was molded to his, and he discovered she was stronger than she looked as she squeezed him tightly.

Not sure what to do, he patted her back gently. The hug lasted a bit longer than it should, and he looked over at Wraith, who had the smarts to turn away as he smiled, his shoulders twitching as he laughed silently.The fucker.

Fleur pulled back and laughed. “Christmas in August! Thank you so much. I can get the staff to help unload.”

“They want to do it,” Miller said. “I already offered.”

She looked questioningly at him. “We could really use the supplies, as in now.”

He shrugged. “We have things that are dangerous in that trailer.”

Fleur frowned. “Dangerous? What do you mean?”

“Ammo.” And some special toys his twin brother Deacon had sent along, but no one needed to know about those things.

“Oh.” Fleur deflated. “You’ll have to forgive us. We’ve been rationing fuel forever, and we’re almost out. The food situation is one step above the fuel situation, but not by much.”

“We heard.” Ronan shrugged his weapon sling back into its proper position, which had jockeyed out of place when she’d hugged him. Not that he minded the hug. It had been one hell of a long time since he’d held a woman against him. And she was all woman. To say he hadn’t noticed when she’d hugged him would be the lie of the year, if not the decade. She was just the right height, and she had a banging, hot body, too. He liked that she was taller. He’d grown up around tall women. His aunts, well,honorary auntsJade, Jasmine, Tori, Keelee, and even Jewell, were all tall. And while not as tall, his mom was a woman no one would mess with. He’d been raised to respect women and what they were capable of doing. His sisters were epic examples of success on an international level.

“Skipper?” Dude’s voice rang through the comm device lodged in his ear.

Ronan tipped his head. “Go ahead, Dude.”

Fleur jumped a bit, and she looked around. “Who?—”

Ronan lifted his hand and listened. “Two vehicles have left the militia encampment and are heading north.” The satellite must be over them again. Dude always had their six.

“Trail them as long as you can.”

“You know it,” Dude said. “How bad is the camp? I can only see from outer space.”

Jug answered so Miller and Fleur couldn’t hear him. “Think of any refugee camp you’ve seen and multiply it by a thousand. The food supplies we brought will last only a day or so.”

“I could try to get supplies airdropped in.”

“In a sovereign country’s airspace?” Ronan asked as he studied his boot. “Good luck.”

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