by Em Petrova
“Just feelin’ a bit different is all.”
Nash reached across the table and tapped Shaw’s temple. He moved back in surprise. “What’s that for?”
“Tryin’ to see if you got a soft spot from that blast you took back on the border.”
“No, but my calf still stings like a bitch.” Shaw lifted his jaw toward Nash. “I hope you got a tetanus shot after that son of a bitch bit you.”
“Already had one. Nevaeh wasn’t very happy, though.”
Shaw almost said he knew the feeling, since Atalee had actually welled up with tears at the sight of his bullet graze.
“So what’s different?” Nash asked just as the waitress hustled back with hips swaying to set his beer before him.
She dropped a sideways look at Shaw. “Sure I can’t get you anything?”
“No thanks.”
She smiled and turned to go, this time with a bit less bounce in her step.
Nash picked up his draft. “You could at least smile at her.”
Shaw lifted a French fry from his plate and bit into it. “Like I said, not feelin’ it.”
“I respect that. Anyway, is there a reason why you called me for lunch today?” Nash sipped his beer and swiped some foam off his upper lip.
Shaw swallowed his fry. “I wanted to tell you that I found a shrink.”
Nash sat back in his chair and nodded. “Glad to hear it. Hope it’s workin’ out for you.”
A grin spread over Shaw’s face against his will as thoughts of what his pretty little therapist had done with him all morning long. Even after the big breakfast she’d cooked, he’d dragged her to the shower and worked soap all over her—and his cock into her.
“That’s it, man. What the fuck’s going on with you?” Nash set down his glass.
Shaw leaned forward. “Ever had kitchen table sex?”
Nash barked out a laugh that had several heads whipping their direction. Both of them ignored the onlookers and shared a long chuckle. Slapping the table with his palm, Nash said, “I knew somethin’ was up.” His face changed, and he went dead still.
That was when Shaw felt his own pocket vibrate with an incoming call.
“Dammit to hell.” Nash went for his phone but Shaw already had his in hand. They were on their feet in a flash, and Shaw threw some bills on the table to cover the tab while Nash booked it for the door.
On the street, they wove through pedestrians to reach their vehicles. Shaw wished he didn’t have his motorcycle, so they could make better time in rallying to meet the other Ranger Ops.
As Shaw reached his bike and threw a leg over it, he met Nash’s gaze. “The fuckin’ governor—did I hear that right?”
“Yeah. See ya at the base.”
The home base for the Ranger Ops was nothing more than a government office where they were given orders or debriefed, and it was a running joke that it was so low budget because Homeland Security didn’t want to put money into the Ranger Ops anyway.
Shaw hit the streets, quickly moving around some slower vehicles. He ran a red light and set a faster pace. A threat to the governor wasn’t unheard of. As a Texas Ranger, he’d been called out to protect one political figurehead or another over the past few years, but it must be bigger and more serious if Ranger Ops was called in.
He arrived at the rallying point before Nash did, parked his bike and walked over to Linc and Lennon, who were climbing out of a car.
Shaw grabbed his phone and checked if more information had come in, but his screen was blank. “Let’s go.” As second in command, he took control by leading his teammates into the building. While they went straight to their row of lockers and began suiting up, Cavanagh came in and got to business checking weapons and ammo. Jess and Nash entered last, and Nash braced his legs wide as he filled them in on everything he knew.
Threat. Check.
Keeping the governor under guard. Check.
His teenage son was also in the mix, believed to be in custody of a terrorist group acting against the governor.
Shaw slipped his bulletproof vest over his head. “How do we know the son isn’t involved in the group for his own reasons?”
“We don’t.” Nash looked at Shaw closely. “You good for this, Woody?”
He grunted, half pissed off that Nash would even question whether or not he could perform his fucking job. “I got it.”
Nash gave a hard nod and strapped his weapon to his hip. “You assholes got one minute to load up.”
“Guts ’n glory, man,” Jess called out to Nash’s back.
Shaw let Nash’s question sink in. Was he good? He was about to find out.
* * * * *
Something was very, very wrong. Shaw, the man who had touched Atalee so thoroughly just a few days before, sat upright on the sofa in her office, staring straight ahead. Even without schooling, she would know something was wrong by the way he seemed to be watching something play in his head.
She knew better than to break into such a moment, yet Shaw hadn’t moved in almost five minutes, and her worry was mounting by the second.
When he’d shown up in her office out of the blue, she’d been surprised to say the least. And after their encounter, it had become quite apparent to him that she could not treat him as a patient. Yet when he’d walked in with that haunted look in his eyes, how could she turn him away?
She had to speak. “Shaw,” she said quietly. They’d both agreed she should not treat him as a patient, yet how could she turn him away when he’d shown up at her door?
He didn’t look around at her, but he did blink. It was a start.
“Shaw, can you start by telling me the first emotion in your mind?”
Swinging his head to her, he pierced her in his gaze—his very lucid gaze. “I don’t operate that way, Atalee.”
Okay. She took another tack. “You came here to talk. It must mean you trust me to hold those confidences.”
After long seconds, he gave a nod. “I trust you.”
A flutter hit her belly. “I appreciate that.”
Suddenly, he heaved himself off the couch and walked to the window that looked out on the parking lot. With his arms folded and his back rigid, she didn’t know if she was getting a single word out of the man today. Problem was, she knew him, yet she didn’t. Knew enough to understand he was struggling with some issue and not enough to have a clue how to help him.
“Have you ever looked at the world out there and wondered how the hell people are happy?” he asked.
Treading carefully, she remained seated rather than going to him as her gut told her to. “I know a lot of bad things happen to people and I do sometimes marvel that the world seems to go on anyway.”
He nodded. “Exactly.” He pointed. “Take that guy there for instance. He doesn’t walk hunched over with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looks relatively normal, adjusted, content.”
Oh boy.
She got to her feet and moved toward him. His scent hit her first, masculine and plucking at her nerve endings like no other man in her life ever had. Looking at his broad shoulders, she wondered what kind of weights bore down on him.
When she set her hand on his shoulder, he turned to her and grasped her by the elbows. She felt the heat of his hands sink through the fibers of her blouse and travel all over her body in a shorter time than it took her to blink.
His blue eyes burned into hers. “Let’s get outta here.”
Her lips fell open. “Where?”
“Take a ride. Anywhere. Can you leave?”
“You’re my last patient.” Actually, her last patient had gone long ago, and she’d just been attempting to finally clean off her desk when the receptionist had come in all atwitter to tell Atalee that Shaw was here.
“Let’s go.” He started to the door, pulling her along in his wake.
“Wait, I need my handbag.”
He paused, and she went back to fetch it from behind her desk. When she threw a forlorn glance at the pile of
work laying there—notes to jot down, dictation to take on the latest patients—Shaw cupped her chin in his big palm and stared into her eyes.
“I need you,” he grated out.
Her heart turned over. “Let’s go.” I’m yours, she wanted to add but refrained. This wasn’t about them right now—it was about Shaw getting his thoughts and emotions in some semblance of order so he could go on in a healthy manner.
At the door of her office, she pulled free of his grasp. “We can’t be seen together this way. Go on and I’ll catch up with you.”
Understanding had his eyes clearing somewhat, as he came back to reality. “Of course. Don’t be long.”
After he walked out the door, why did she regret not taking hold of him, drawing him close and letting him know that everything was going to be all right? She quivered on the other side of the door for several minutes before following.
All the way down in the elevator, she let her nerves kick in. Was she doing the right thing by Shaw? He needed therapy, not a lover. She could lose her position for this and her reputation would forever be stained.
Yet, when he pulled up in his car and reached across the center to open the door for her, she couldn’t have stopped herself from climbing in with him if she’d tried.
They drove for a minute before she spoke. “I didn’t know you still had this car.” It was the topic of many of his and Johnny’s conversations, as he’d been rebuilding it at the time. A classic car from the sixties that was much coveted by some of the guys who knew him.
“Wouldn’t let this baby go.” The way he caressed the steering wheel had her aching to be the leather beneath his hand. Those long fingers had given her more pleasure than her fantasies had ever relayed.
She shifted in her seat, and his gaze shot to her.
“I can’t talk back there, Atalee. It’s not me.”
“I know.”
“I know you read my file.”
Fuck. Her heart lurched, and she dropped her stare to her hands. “I’m sorry.”
“At least you know some.”
“Yes.”
“But not all.”
She studied his profile, the tic in his jaw and the way his pulse beat erratically in his throat. “Not all,” she echoed softly, reaching across the space to touch his hand, an iron grip on the wheel now.
He gave it to her, letting her mesh their fingers on the console between them. He swallowed hard. “I killed a child.”
His abrupt words sent her into a shocked whirlwind. She couldn’t even blink. “A… child? In the line of duty?”
“We were protecting the fucking governor two days ago. Death threats, fucking unmarked packages they believed were bombs being delivered. You know his stance on gun control, right?”
She nodded. It was a wonder the man hadn’t been targeted before now. He was pretty unpopular at this stage of the game.
“Yeah, there’s a group we’ve heard murmurings from before. Knight Ops dealt with some of their shit a few months back, but this was our first encounter with them.”
She rolled with the information he threw at her. Though she had no clue who Knight Ops was, she could guess it was another special ops force.
Shaw shook his head as if casting away some heavy yoke thrown over his neck. “Never should have gotten that far.”
His fingers tightened around hers, and she stroked the back of his hand with her free one. “Shaw, you do what you’re told.”
“No, I fucking don’t.” His voice came out as mechanical, and it scared her, lifting the hairs on her arms.
“Can you tell me more?” she prompted, afraid if she let him sink too far into his head that he wouldn’t come back to her. He seriously needed help, and she wasn’t enough, not when they were too close already.
“In Mexico, shit went down and it’s affecting me.” He took his hand off the wheel long enough to tap the center of his head.
So what had happened recently wasn’t directly related, just an aftereffect of some trauma he’d experienced in Mexico. None of which was in his file. At least not any file she could get her hands on.
“Shaw. Why don’t you pull over here and we’ll talk? Look, there’s a park and we can walk on the path.”
“Jesus Christ.” His words were more like his own, but her insides shook to think of what was happening and how she could help right now when he needed her the most.
“Pull in right here.” She pointed and he did.
When he came to a stop, he turned to her. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s why I’m here, Shaw. If you can tell me more, we can figure out a plan to get you the help you need.”
He grabbed her and dragged her across the seat into his lap. She fell with a soft thump onto his very hard thighs, and before she could draw a breath of his manly scent, he tipped her face up to his with his thumb under her chin.
Staring deep into her eyes, he grated out, “All I know is when I look in your eyes, I see why the people are happy.”
He kissed her.
* * * * *
Every demon chasing through Shaw’s mind got shoved behind a closed door the instant his mouth touched Atalee’s. She melted into his touch, breasts pressed to his chest and her arms spun around his neck, clinging to him as he slanted his mouth for more.
He dragged his lips away and dropped his forehead to hers, panting with the balls-out urge to take her right here on public park lands. A second ticked by, and she drew her hand down to his nape, her touch soft and sure.
“Shaw, this thing between us is strong, but I think you need to talk more.”
He nodded, nose brushing against hers.
She shifted in his lap as if to move back to her seat. Locking his hands on her hips, he said, “Don’t move.”
“If you’re sure you can think this way, but I—”
“No, there’s a man at the window. Don’t move out of my lap. Get my gun tucked in my waist along my spine.”
Her blood ran cold as she realized what he was telling her to do. She’d never touched a gun in all her life, and she hoped he wasn’t going to order her to fire it, because no way in hell could she.
Or maybe she could—under extreme circumstances. If it meant either of their lives, she could pull the trigger.
With fear pounding in her veins, she slowly slipped her hand down his shoulder, along his hard torso until she reached his hip and around his back. The steel under her hand scared the bejeezus out of her.
“Pretend you’re kissing me,” he told her. “And put the gun into my hand.”
Swallowing hard, she tipped her mouth up to his. He brushed his lips across hers, still tender despite the situation they found themselves in. Working the gun from the holster, her heart drummed so heavily she thought she might pass out.
When his fingers curled around the weapon she held, things happened fast and in a blur. He grabbed her and shoved her down and away from him even as he exploded out of the driver’s door. She couldn’t see what was going on, and she had to make sure he was okay.
Launching out the door after him, she saw Shaw standing with his legs braced wide and weapon trained on a guy who also held a gun.
“Let’s play a game of Russian roulette, why don’t we?” Shaw drawled out at the man. “You take a shot and I take a shot to see which one of us actually has a loaded weapon.”
The guy danced from foot to foot. “Give me your money and credit cards.”
“Why don’t you go fuck yourself? Or better yet, get clean and find a job that doesn’t involve ambushing people getting out of their cars at a park. Now”—his finger twitched on the trigger— “about that Russian roulette.”
Atalee could barely hear their voices above the pounding of her heart. She stood close to Shaw, but he didn’t flick his gaze away from his adversary. He did, however, move his leg ever so slightly, blocking her.
No wonder the man was riddled with scars. He’d take a bullet for her, probably had taken some for others.
Her love bloomed, sprouting several dozen more flowers in the bouquet inside her heart.
Shaw made a sudden, sharp move, and in the next second, she saw the gunman on the ground, disarmed, with his arm jerked up and back at an angle that wasn’t human.
He bellowed with pain, but Shaw didn’t flinch. He held his gun on the man with a mask of indifference on his face. “Baby doll, get my phone off the dash and dial the number six.”
With shaking hands, she reached for it. Pressing the number got dicey when a tremor of terror racked her, but she managed to bring the phone to her ear as well.
“What the hell’s going on, Woody?”
Woody… the man on the other end of the line was addressing Shaw.
“Uhh… it’s not Woody, but he told me to call.”
“Goddammit. What’s your location?”
Thank goodness she knew exactly where they were, having hiked here many times during the cooler winter months. She spouted it off, and the man grated out, “I’ll be there in five. Tell him not to shoot anybody unless he has to.”
Her mind blanked on what to say in return, but he ended the call.
Two young men came across the parking lot, shooting interested looks their way.
“Get in your truck and don’t think about this,” Shaw ordered.
They ducked their heads and ran the rest of the way to their truck. The man on the ground still howled intermittently in pain, and no wonder—that dislocated shoulder must be excruciating. Shaw had zero sympathy, though, and stood over him with all the authority of a man who did this for a living.
God, he was hot.
Atalee was too afraid to think much more. What seemed like an hour went by. When a black SUV hit the parking lot, Shaw raised his gaze to Atalee. “That’s my backup. Sit tight while we sort this motherfucker, okay?”
She gave a jerky nod and looked on in shock as a huge man climbed from the SUV along with another and another. These three men, along with Shaw, looked as if they could subdue ISIS with a single glare.
Shaw’s friend stopped before the one on the ground and drawled, “Nice dislocation we have here. Take much?”
Shaw shook his head. “The usual.”
The usual? Oh God, how often did something like this happen? She didn’t want to know.