The Protector: MAC: A Cover Six Security Novel
Page 1
THE PROTECTOR: MAC
Cover Six Security #1
Lisa B. Kamps
THE PROTECTOR: MAC
Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.
Cover Six Security™ is a fictional security company, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art
https://www.simplydefinedart.com/
Photographer: Eric D. Battershell of Eric Battershell Photography
http://www.ericbattershellphotography.com/
Cover Model: Stefan Northfield of Stefan Northfield - Fitness, Motivation & Modelling
https://www.instagram.com/stefan_northfield/
Cover Six Security Logo Designed by Benjamin Mangnus of Benjamagnus Design Ltd.
http://www.benjamagnus.com/
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Other titles by this author
Special Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Special Acknowledgement
The Guardian: DARYL preview
LOVING HARD preview
About The Author
Other titles by this author
For Fiona Tulle
Who helped with a plot point dilemma more than she realizes.
I'll always be thankful for the night hubby and I stopped in St. Augustine that started a wonderful friendship! Thanks for sharing the Magic--and here's to many more trips!
Other titles by this author:
COVER SIX SECURITY
Covered By A Kiss, A CSS Novella, Book 0
The Protector: MAC, Book 1
The Guardian: DARYL, Book 2
The Defender: RYDER, Book 3
THE BALTIMORE BANNERS
Crossing the Line, Book 1
Game Over, Book 2
Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3
Body Check, Book 4
Break Away, Book 5
Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella
Delay of Game, Book 6
Shoot Out, Book 7
The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy
Books 1-3 Boxed set
The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy
Books 4-6 Boxed set
On Thin Ice, Book 8
Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella
One-Timer, Book 9
Face Off, Book 10
First Shot At Love, A Baltimore Banners Short Story
Game Misconduct, Book 11
Fighting To Score, Book 12
Matching Penalties, Book 13
THE YORK BOMBERS
Playing The Game, Book 1
Playing To Win, Book 2
Playing For Keeps, Book 3
Playing It Up, Book 4
Playing It Safe, Book 5
The York Bombers Boxed Set 1
Books 1-3
Playing For Love, Book 6
Playing His Part, Book 7
THE CHESAPEAKE BLADES
Winning Hard, Book 1
Loving Hard, Book 2
Playing Hard, Book 3
FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN
Once Burned, Book 1
Playing With Fire, Book 2
Breaking Protocol, Book 3
Into the Flames, Book 4
Second Alarm, Book 5
Feel The Burn, Book 6
Coming Soon
STAND-ALONE TITLES
Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)
Finding Dr. Right
Time To Heal
Dangerous Passion
Dangerous Heat
Illicit Affair
Coming Soon
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Special Acknowledgement
The idea for the Cover Six Security series came about when I started the Chesapeake Blades series—particularly book 2, Loving Hard. And the more I played around with it, the more it drew me in.
I had the story ideas. Names for the guys on the team. Their backgrounds. I was ready to go, my fingers itching to get the words on paper.
What I didn't have was a name for the security company. Ideas came to me, only to be deleted because...well, frankly, because they stunk. Then I got stuck.
Like many authors, I have a fabulous reader's group on Facebook: Kamps Korner. And that's where I turned to for help. I threw the question (okay, I begged) to the greatest bunch of readers I know—and they totally came through for me!
There were dozens of suggestions, all of them fantastic—which led to another dilemma: how do I pick one? There were a few that really stood out so I did what any smart author would do: I created a poll and let the readers pick...
And Cover Six Security was born.
Thank you to everyone who offered suggestions—there were so many great ones! And special thanks—and my undying gratitude—to Elizabeth Roney and her Marine husband for the wonderful suggestion! It totally fits. And in Elizabeth's words: "He [her Marine husband] said it would be a good pick up line explaining to the ladies what cover your six means!"
And it totally is—as you'll see in several of the upcoming books!
Elizabeth and your Marine husband—this one is for you! Thank you <3!
Chapter One
The kiss caught her by surprise. Soft, hesitant at first. Learning. Tasting. Teasing. But it wasn't enough. It could never be enough.
She pressed herself closer, a whisper of need escaping her. He cupped her face between his rough palms and deepened the kiss. Drinking her in. Unleashing fires of need kept banked for too long.
Scorching. Cleansing. Deep and inte
nse. God, so intense. All she wanted to do was crawl on top of Mac, crawl inside him, be consumed by him, the crowd be damned. He was everything she wanted—needed. Hot. Hard.
And his mouth. God, his mouth. So deceptively soft. Gentle. And hot. So hot—
Cold.
So painfully cold, a hundred thousand needles pricking her skin. Under her skin, down to bone and marrow. Shredding. Tearing. Ripping.
Consciousness returned slowly. Disoriented, sluggish, confused. Something was wrong, she shouldn't be this cold. Where was Mac? He was gone, his heat replaced by the shocking iciness surrounding her. She needed him, needed his heat—
Water pooled around her feet, her legs, her hips. She was entrenched in a dreamlike state. There was no sound other than the oddly hollow gurgle of water as it washed around her. No illumination other than the pale ghostly hue of the dashboard lights wavering through the watery darkness surrounding her. And cold, so bitterly cold. Freezing. Numbing.
She watched, detached, as her hands floated near the deflated bag hanging from the steering wheel. Struggled to make sense of everything, knowing something was wrong.
Something—
Full consciousness returned and with it, fear. Raw, consuming. Terrifying. Panic ripped through her as she struggled with the seatbelt, her numb fingers useless. The water was higher now, to her chest, coming in faster as the car descended deeper into murky blackness.
She needed to get out. Now. But she was trapped by the seatbelt, couldn't get it to release. Couldn't open the door—
Oh God, no.
No!
The sound of her harsh breathing echoed around her, sharp and terrified. Shallow. Fast. Too fast, she was hyperventilating, on the verge of passing out.
On the verge of drowning.
The water climbed even higher. Past her chest. Her shoulders. Biting cold, sapping what little strength she had, increasing the panic and desperation clawing at her. She struggled with the seatbelt, fought to control her breathing, fought to get free—
But it was too late.
One breath. One more, dark water rushing over her face, into her mouth, her nose.
Too late—
Mac—
# #
"Fuck!"
Gordon "Mac" MacGregor watched in horror as TR's car hit the edge of the pond's bank, went airborne for a brief second, then hit the water nose-first and started sinking. He slammed on the brakes, causing his truck to fishtail before it slid to a stop. The headlights cut through the inky darkness and reflected off the fine mist of icy pellets, the naked branches of overgrown trees and shrubbery—
And the black surface of the pond that was quickly swallowing TR's car.
She had been right there, not twenty yards in front of him, mere seconds ago. The bright glare of a car cutting in front of him had momentarily blinded him for a second, maybe two, before he heard the sound of metal scraping metal. Silence, then the muted splash, the sound oddly distant.
"Fuck!"
Mac already had his door open before slamming the truck into Park. He jumped out, his hand automatically yanking the phone from the front pocket of his tux jacket. There was no time to call for help—TR's car was sinking too rapidly, the lights of the dash already obscured by the brackish water. He hit one button, tossed the phone on the leather seat before grabbing the multi-tool from the side pocket of the door, then ran toward the pond.
Toward TR's sinking car.
Branches and brambles snagged at his jacket, his pants. The soles of his dress shoes slipped in the muck of the bank as he crashed through the thin glaze of ice at the edge. Mud sucked at his feet, slowing him down before he broke through and hit the water. Icy cold, forcing the breath from his lungs. It covered his ankles, his knees, his thighs.
How deep? Six feet? Eight? Ten? It didn't matter, not when it was enough to cover TR's car. He lunged forward, his large body breaking the dark surface as he dove toward the car, reaching it just as it disappeared under the surface.
"TR!" He yelled her name, not knowing if she could hear him or not. Was she conscious? Was she struggling to get out as the icy water closed over her, turning the car into a water-filled coffin? Did she know he was here, that he was coming for her? Or was it already too late—
No! Fuck that. It was not too late. He was here, dammit. He'd get her out—
Or die trying.
He sucked in a deep breath and plunged beneath the surface, following the murky light of the car's headlights, ignoring the searing pain as icy water sliced at his eyes. His hand slid across the roof, found the edge of the windshield then moved back, down to the driver's door. Lower, until his hand closed over the handle and pulled.
Nothing.
Dammit! Fuck!
He kicked, pushing himself deeper, held himself against the car with a death grip on that handle as he felt for the bottom corner of the window. There. Right there—
He turned the small tool in his hand, his numb fingers almost losing their hold on it. Then he pressed it against the window and pushed, sensed the glass spiderwebbing with the sharp impact. He hit the window with his elbow, felt the glass give way—
Felt a hand close over his arm, nothing more than the lightest of brushes, the grip weak.
She was still conscious, still alive. But for how long? How much air had been trapped in the car before it filled with water? How much longer could she hold her breath? His own lungs were starting to ache, to burn. Demanding that he open his mouth and suck in great gulps of air.
He grabbed her hand, squeezed it, letting her know that he was here, that she wasn't alone. There was no answering squeeze, no movement at all from those still fingers.
Mac forced his torso through the small opening, blindly felt for the seatbelt strapping her in. The latch mechanism was jammed, holding her prisoner in the oversized coffin instead of keeping her safe.
He readjusted his grip on the tool, fighting off the icy numbness that threatened to make his fingers thick and useless. Two slices severed the seatbelt, freeing her. He yanked them away from her, slid one arm behind her and pulled.
TR's arms floated uselessly between them. Lifeless, her pale skin nothing more than a lighter shadow in the murky water. Mac tugged again, refusing to think of anything except freeing TR.
Refusing to accept that he may have been too late.
No! No, he wasn't too late, dammit. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. TR was too full of life for it to be otherwise.
He tugged again, bracing one knee against the door as he backed out of the window, pulling TR's limp body with him. Black dots exploded at the edges of his vision as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He shook his head and fought against the blackness that threatened to overcome him then tightened his arm around TR and pulled one last time.
She was out!
Mac kicked with his legs, propelling them both to the surface. Cold air washed across his face, nipped at his mouth and nose as he sucked in huge gulps and filled his lungs.
But the woman in his arms remained motionless.
He swallowed against the churning fear and swam toward the bank then sank to his knees as muck washed around his legs. TR was still motionless. Limp.
Lifeless.
He draped her across his lap, bent low and pressed his fingers against her pale throat. His mouth moved in silent prayer as he waited to feel her pulse, that steady reassuring beat that would let him know she was still alive.
But he couldn't feel anything, his fingers were too numb, her flesh too cold. He swore to himself then dragged them both further up the bank, out of the icy water.
"TR! Tabitha!" He shouted her name, expecting her to open her eyes and give him hell for calling her that. She hated that name. Tabitha. He didn't know why, had never bothered to ask her, had never thought it important enough to ask.
Had been too afraid of getting close to her. Too afraid of letting her get close to him. Too afraid that getting to know her would make him vulnerable. Weak.
&nbs
p; He pushed the regret away and pressed the tips of his numb fingers harder against her throat. Was that a pulse he felt? Or simply wishful thinking?
There it was again, weak and thready—but there.
He ran his hand along her face, brushed the wet hair from her cheeks and bent forward to place his mouth against hers. Her lips were cold, so cold. So unlike they'd been a few hours—a lifetime—ago. When he'd kissed her for the first time, at the stroke of midnight of the new year. When he'd finally thrown a year of caution away and acted on impulse and desire.
He swallowed back the regret of a hundred lifetimes and blew into her mouth, forcing air into her lungs. Once. Twice. Once more, until a weak cough tumbled from her lips. Another cough, stronger this time, one that ended in a deep retching sound. He rolled her to the side, kept his arms around her. Holding her, supporting her.
Swearing he'd never let her go. Not this time.
"Mac!"
He heard his name being called, looked up to see the strong beam of a flashlight sweeping the bank. His first instinct was to duck, to flatten himself on top of TR to keep her safe, to protect her with the cover of his own body.
To protect her now, when he had failed only minutes ago.
But there was no danger from the voice calling out to him, a voice he would recognize even from the depths of hell. A voice he had heard from the depths of hell, where they had served together.
"Down here!"
The beam of light was accompanied by the sound of footsteps crashing through brush and bramble. Mac turned his head away from the bright light, leaned over and pulled TR into his arms.
"What the fuck?"
"I need blankets. Now." Mac pushed to his feet, staggered in the mud then caught himself. Daryl Anderson—one of his business partners in Cover Six Security and a brother in every way but blood—reached for him. No, not for him. For TR. Mac shook his head, the low noise coming from his throat a feral warning growl. Daryl dropped his hand and turned to the side, lighting the way for Mac.
"What happened?"
"Somebody tried to fucking kill her." He felt Daryl tense beside him, sensed him reaching for the pistol tucked at his back. Mac shook his head as he cleared the last of the scraggly brush lining the pond's bank and headed for his truck.