The Protector: MAC: A Cover Six Security Novel

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Don't look so surprised. I see the memes on social media, I know how it goes."

  TR started to respond—she wasn't sure what she was going to say, only knew she had to say something—but she didn't get the chance because Mac leaned forward and caught her mouth with his. The kiss was slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world, like worshipping her mouth in the Target parking lot was perfectly normal.

  He finally pulled away, ran his thumb over her lower lip while she tried to catch her breath. Then he was climbing out of the car and walking around to her side, taking her hand in his while they walked toward the store.

  Like they were a regular couple. Like this was normal. Like the last however-many crazy hours had never happened.

  It was enough to keep her mind spinning, to keep her attention focused on anything but the last two insane days. Was that why he'd done it? Why he had kissed her like that? To keep her mind off everything and give her that brief sense of normalcy?

  Maybe. Part of her hoped there was more to it than that, that he had simply kissed her because he wanted to.

  She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye, her heart skipping a beat or two as she studied his strong profile. His square jaw and chiseled cheekbones; the dark fringe of lashes that framed his eyes; the sensuous curve of his mouth. It was a warrior's face, a study in strength and courage and integrity. The face of a man who'd seen things she could only imagine and things she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

  A face she wanted to see every night before she closed her eyes and every morning when she opened them.

  Mac's hand tightened around hers, catching her when she stumbled over her own feet. One brow shot up in silent question but she shook her head and quickly looked away, wondering if her face was as red as it felt.

  Where had that thought come from? So unbidden, unexpected. Or was it? She'd always been drawn to Mac, had always felt some inexplicable pull toward him from the very first day she'd met him. Should it really surprise her that her emotions were finally surfacing, begging for attention instead of staying in that secret place where she had buried them a year ago?

  No, it shouldn't, not with everything else going on. Not when she'd had to work to keep them buried. The only thing that should surprise her was that it had taken them this long to resurface.

  She acknowledged them—but she didn't want to deal with them. Not right now. Later, when she had some quiet time to herself, when the rest of her world wasn't falling apart with dizzying speed.

  Mac was completely oblivious to the brief internal battle she was waging—something she was insanely grateful for. He was also completely oblivious to her sudden need for some brief shopping therapy because he leaned down to grab one of those handheld baskets stacked near the entrance. She squeezed his hand, loudly cleared her throat, then pointed to the shopping carts.

  "I thought you said you just needed a few things."

  "I do."

  "But you need a shopping cart instead of a basket?"

  TR nodded, bit back a smile when he rolled his eyes and retrieved a shopping cart. He even pushed it for her, an indulgent smile on his face as she slowly filled it with immediate must-haves that fell into her budget.

  A new wallet. Purse. Tote bag. They weren't the same as what she'd had but they would work as immediate replacements. No clothes—she had enough to get by on for now, until she could make a list of what she actually had and what she really needed to replace.

  Would her renter's insurance even cover the cost of all her clothes? Her boots? That was one more thing she needed to deal with, one more thing to add to her growing list of to-dos.

  She detoured into the office supply section of the store and grabbed several packs of pens and some notebooks and tossed them into the cart. Then it was over to another section for shampoo and conditioner. Moisturizer. A new hairbrush. A hair dryer. A few scrunchies. Deodorant and hairspray and a new toothbrush.

  Mac frowned at the bright pink shower pouf she threw in, along with her favorite body wash. "Why do you need that? I have soap."

  "Because this is body wash, not soap."

  "What's the difference?"

  "Body wash is better."

  "But it does the same thing."

  She paused in the middle of the aisle and gave him an incredulous look. Then she rolled her eyes, bit back her smile. If she had realized teasing Mac was so much fun, she would have done it a lot sooner. "It's not the same thing. And I don't like your soap."

  "What the hell's wrong with my soap?"

  "It's guy soap."

  "The hell it is. It's regular soap. It lathers. It cleans. It rinses. That's what soap is supposed to do. What the hell more do you want?"

  TR released a dramatic sigh then grabbed the body wash from the cart and put it back on the shelf. "Fine. I'll use your stinky soap instead."

  "My soap is not stinky. It's—" Mac stopped, narrowed his eyes at her. "You're teasing, aren't you?"

  A small bubble of laughter escaped her. "Maybe. A little."

  Something that sounded suspiciously like a growl sounded deep in Mac's chest. He moved around the cart with lightning speed and grabbed her, pulled her in for a kiss that was still powerful enough to curl her toes even though it was entirely too brief.

  He grabbed the body wash from the shelf and tossed it back into the cart. "Anything else?"

  TR studied the heaping contents of the cart with a frown. "I just need one more thing."

  She moved a few aisles down, Mac dutifully following her. Her gaze moved from shelf to shelf, finally settling on the assortment of small boxes displayed at the end of the aisle closest to the pharmacy. She hesitated, finally grabbed two boxes of condoms and tossed them into the cart.

  "Now I'm done."

  Chapter Seventeen

  The two boxes of condoms sat at the other edge of the table. Mac darted a subtle glance at them then at TR. She sat across from him, her brow furrowed with a small frown, a small notebook opened by her elbow. But she wasn't looking at the notebook, or at the half-eaten plate of chicken and pasta she'd pushed around for the last fifteen minutes. Or even at the condoms sitting a few feet away, practically forgotten since she had placed them there with a teasing smile.

  The laughter and teasing had left her before they sat down to eat, had left her not long after they'd returned to his place. She'd taken most of the bags upstairs, had carefully unpacked each one and placed the new toiletries in a corner of the large vanity in his bathroom, almost like she was afraid of taking up too much space.

  She could take over the whole damn room for all he cared. Didn't she know that? He had tried to tease her about it but the only thing his teasing had evoked was a small quirk of her lips that could have passed for a smile if he hadn't known better.

  But Mac did know better and he wasn't buying it. She was back in that quiet place in her mind, still dealing with the upheaval that had become her recent life. The unplanned shopping spree and relaxed teasing at the store had broken through her thoughts and animated her for a little bit—but it wasn't enough.

  Only time would really help. Time, and the assurance that nothing else would happen to her. He wouldn't allow it.

  He swallowed back a grunt. Allow it. Yeah, because he'd had all the control in the fucking world to stop her car from plunging into that fucking pond. To stop the fucking explosion and subsequent fire that had destroyed her fucking apartment and everything in it.

  Control.

  What a fucking crock of shit. His ability to control what might or might not happen was nothing more than a fucking illusion that taunted him with his very real inability to protect her the way he wanted to. In order to do that, he'd have to take her to some remote place only he knew about it and hide her away from the rest of the world.

  Tempting—

  If he wanted to go all caveman on her and risk having her never speak to him again. Would it be worth it?

  Yeah, it would. He'd risk losing her forever if it
meant keeping her safe.

  But that wasn't a viable option. Not yet.

  He'd just have to stay close to her. Protect her. Give her the means to protect herself, too, if it came to that. Maybe that would help with the feeling of being completely powerless, completely helpless, that she was struggling with. No, she hadn't said as much—maybe she didn't even realize it. But Mac knew. Someone as fiercely independent as TR would need to feel at least some control over her world.

  Like the list she had been making.

  He shifted his eyes to the notepad, studied the small, neat handwriting lining the first page.

  DMV—license

  Bank—debit card/credit card

  Insurance company—file claim

  He mentally nodded in approval. She'd had renter's insurance. Good. That should help with some of her expenses, help ease some of the stress of having to replace everything she owned. He doubted it would cover everything but he could help make up the difference—if he could figure out a way to do it without her realizing it.

  He glanced back at the list and kept reading but there were only two items left—and neither one of them instilled him with happiness.

  Body shop—car ready?

  Car rental—replacement-??

  Of course she'd want some kind of transportation—either her own if it was ready, or another rental car until then. It made perfect sense. If she had her own transportation, she wouldn't feel as helpless. She'd feel like she had some of that elusive control back if she didn't have to rely on him to drive her around.

  Too damn bad that wasn't going to happen. She was stuck with him until all this shit was figured out and he was one-hundred-and-fifty-percent positive she was safe. Not that he planned on telling her that right now—he'd deal with the argument later. There were other ways he could give her that sense of control she so badly needed until then. He just needed to be subtle about it.

  "You need to finish eating."

  TR looked up then blinked, her gaze finally focusing on him. She glanced at the plate then shook her head. "I'm done."

  "You only ate half of it."

  "Because you loaded the plate. I don't usually eat that much."

  "I gave you the same amount that I had."

  One eyebrow quirked up as she pointedly looked at him. "Yeah. Exactly."

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? He frowned, looking from his empty plate to her half-full one. Her meaning finally sunk in and he shook his head, mentally calling himself an idiot. Of course she wouldn't eat as much as he did—she was half his size, damn near tiny and petite compared to him.

  But he didn't say anything, just simply gathered the plates in the middle of the table and stacked them with the used utensils and empty glasses. Then he propped his elbows on the table and nodded at the open notebook.

  "How's your list coming along?"

  "Fine. I guess. There's probably at least a dozen more things I need to add to it but I have no idea what they are."

  "They'll come to you. Then you can just jot them down when they do." Mac shifted on the bench, rapped his knuckles against the table. Once. Twice. Again. Cleared his throat and finally straightened. "I'll take you to the range tomorrow."

  "The range?"

  "Yeah. The range. I told you last week I would. We can go tomorrow, let you get in some firing time."

  "I can't. I have to go to the office tomorrow."

  Mac frowned, tried to keep his voice steady and emotionless when he spoke. "Work? You're going to work? Tomorrow?"

  The expression on TR's face was a clear indication that he had failed miserably. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, silently daring him to tell her no. "Yes, work. I have a meeting in the morning. I'm on deadline. I have two stories due Thursday. So yes, I'm going to work."

  "I don't think—"

  "Don't care. It's not optional, Mac. It's my job. I can't just not go. Not if I want to get paid."

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again then closed it again. Raised one hand and rubbed his knuckles back and forth across the scar that sliced across the bottom half of his face. Dropped his hand with a quick sigh.

  "What time is your meeting?"

  TR's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, suspicion flaring in their depths. "Nine o'clock. Why?"

  "How long will you be there?"

  "I don't know. A few hours, maybe longer. However long it takes to do what I need to do. Why?"

  "Just wondering how much paperwork I should bring to work on while I wait for you."

  "What? What do you mean, wait for me? Mac, you're not hanging around my office all day—"

  "We can go to the range when you're done working. Maybe cross some of those items off your list while we're at it."

  "Mac, did you not hear me? I said no. You can't just hang out—"

  "This is non-negotiable, TR." There was a finality in his voice that left no room for argument—not that that would stop her. Mac waited, watched her struggle with something that would have been amusement if the situation wasn't so serious. She must have sensed that because she sat back, her jaw clenched for a long second before finally offering a curt nod.

  "Fine. But you need to stay in the background. No hovering. No glaring. And no intimidating anyone."

  "I can do that."

  TR rolled her eyes then dropped her head to the table with a dramatic sigh. "I'm so getting fired."

  A sharp bark of laughter came out of nowhere, surprising him. Surprising TR, too, if the look she shot him was any indication. He ignored it then started to clear the table, only to stop before picking up a single dish.

  "Did you know this house was part of the Underground Railroad?"

  She raised her head again and shot him another look, this one a mix of confusion and curiosity—no doubt because she had no idea what prompted the sudden change of conversation. She didn't need to know that it wasn't sudden, just like she didn't need to know it was part of his plan to give her some control back. Make her feel less powerless if, God forbid, anything happened while she was here.

  "The Underground Railroad?"

  "Yeah. Maryland was a border state during the Civil War, heavily divided with sympathizers on both sides—"

  "I know that."

  "Then you shouldn't be surprised that this house was part of the Underground Railroad."

  "But how do you know that?"

  "I dug into the history of it." Which wasn't a lie—although it didn't come close to explaining the amount of research he'd done before buying the place. "And I found some interesting things during some of the renovations."

  TR straightened, her eyes flashing with curiosity—which is exactly what he'd been counting on. "What kinds of things?"

  "A room." He leaned forward, let his mouth curl in the briefest of grins. "A tunnel."

  "Seriously? For real?"

  "Seriously for real. Want to see?"

  She was already standing, excitement pushing away the last wisps of shadows that had clouded her eyes during dinner. "Of course I want to see. Where is it? Can I take pictures? This would make such a great story."

  And fuck, he hadn't even considered that—although he should have. He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. No, not yet. He'd explain later, once she saw it. He might not even have to explain then, she'd be able to figure it out herself.

  "This way." He led the way to the pantry, opened the door and waited for her to follow. He reached under the fourth shelf, pointing to the hidden latch before he pulled. The entire shelving unit swung in, exposing a set of stairs leading down. TR poked her head in, her look of awe quickly changing to trepidation.

  "It's, uh, it's down there?"

  "Yeah. That's where most tunnels are." He grabbed the flashlight from the shelf and clicked it on, swept the bright beam over the new set of stairs and the original brick wall flanking them.

  TR gave him a hesitant look then took a deep breath and headed down, one hand on the wall as she descended. Mac followed
her, stopping to pull the shelving unit closed behind him. He heard her gasp, saw the look of panic cross her face when she turned toward him.

  "You can't tell from inside the pantry but this is a reinforced door." He pointed to the heavy lock, custom-designed to his own specs. "If you ever need to come down here, for any reason, secure the lock. Nothing will get through it."

  TR's face paled in the beam of light. Her gaze moved from him to the door and back again, her wide eyes almost frantic. "Why would I need to come down here? Mac, what is this place?"

  "A tunnel, just like I said." He moved past her on the stairs, catching her hand in his before descending the rest of the way. She paused at the bottom, tugged her hand from his and crossed her arms in front of her.

  "What aren't you telling me, Mac? Why would I ever need to come down here?"

  "You wouldn't." Christ, he hoped to hell not. If she did, that meant things had gone totally fucking sideways. "But you can never be too careful. Or too prepared."

  She watched him for a long time, the only sound the echo of their breathing bouncing off the brick walls. His, deep and steady. Hers, short and a little too fast. But even that sound was oddly muted, most of it absorbed into the old brick before it could travel too far.

  TR hugged herself even tighter, her gaze moving from him to the darkness of the tunnel to his right, to the door at the top of the stairs to his left. "This wasn't really part of the Underground Railroad, was it?"

  "Yes, it really was. It's just been modified."

  "Modified? Why?"

  He reached out and ran one hand along her arm, felt her skin pebble—but not from his touch. From the chill? Maybe, although the temperature stayed consistent down here, not warm but not cold, either. From something else? Possibly.

  Mac hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. Given enough time, she would figure it out on her own. TR was intelligent, able to look beyond the surface and deduce the right answer in the blink of an eye. If she'd been thinking clearly now, she'd have already figured it out. So should he wait, let her reason it out on her own? Or should he just tell her now?

  She kept watching him. Waiting for an answer, even repeating the question. "Why is it modified, Mac?"