by Tawny Weber
She leveled the pistol toward the back wall. "You know about those?"
"Are you surprised?"
"No," she said, testing the fit of the gun to her hand.
"You even took a seminar at Quantico with the FBI."
She lowered the gun and grinned at him. "They had really cool workshops."
"You'll have to tell me about your experiences sometime."
"Sure," she said, her eyes softening, reminding him she was still a woman and one he had no business sharing anything with.
Snatching up the clip, ammo, and ear protectors, he motioned her out of the room. "Let's go see what you can do."
She gave him a smirk as she stepped past him. "Yes. Let's."
Was she challenging him?
They strode through the common room, out the front door, and around the corner to the shooting range. He flicked on the warning light and faced her.
She looked back at him, her thin tank top tented by her high round breasts and short shorts that made her legs look like they went on forever. She held out her hand. "Do I get to shoot with bullets or not?"
He gave himself a mental head slap.
"Ear protectors first," he said, putting on his own impulse noise reduction gear and waiting for her to adjust hers before handing her the ammo clip.
She slid the clip home and chambered a round. He moved to guide her aim, but she'd already positioned her arms properly.
"You know the stance," he said.
"I look for every opportunity to take agency-sponsored gun workshops. Guess you don't know everything about me after all."
"I only skimmed the reports on you."
"Like you did Rob's. I get it."
He winced at her dig about his lax background check on her brother. She fired off a couple rounds, pausing while he spotted where they hit the paper target on the far end of the range.
"A little high and to the right," he said. She fired off a couple more shots.
"Dead on," he said, lowering the spotting scope from his eye and looking at her. "I'm impressed."
She met his gaze, all sass gone from her expression. "Why'd you walk away from my invitation last night?"
The question hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. "I told you. You'd regret it in the morning."
"What I'm regretting is that you didn't stay."
He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "You're not a one-night stand kind of gal, O'Hara."
She held his gaze for a full count of three before facing the target, raising her gun, and emptying the clip, obliterating the center mass of the man-shaped silhouette on the target. When she was done, she popped the empty clip and handed it, the gun, and her head gear to him, turned on her heel and headed for the front of the house, her words trailing.
"There's a first time for everything, Jake."
Chapter 10
Bliss stood in the center of the Guanajuato hotel room staring at the lone double bed. Behind her, Jake slumped on the couch with his notebook. Back at the compound, she'd made an utter fool of herself in the courtyard, trying to flirt. Cute and coy definitely was not her. But, on the compound's target range, she'd issued him a challenge. Much more her style.
The first question was, had his putting his two men and her brother in the neighboring room with the two double beds and himself and her in the room with one double his answer to that challenge? And, the second, did she still want him to take her up on that challenge?
If this was still about getting that taste of Nick Savage, sure. But a long ride to the airport and a monotonous flight through the black of night had given her too much time to think.
Jake, not Savage, had held her as she'd wept in his arms because she'd thought her brother lost to her. Jake, not Savage, had put her wellbeing ahead of his desire when he'd walked away from her invitation into her bed.
It had been Jake, not Savage, who'd bled for her.
The memory of his blood on her hands had made her stomach bottom out well before any turbulence had dropped the small private plane flying them north. Reality. He'd gotten shot trying to rescue her brother—gotten shot protecting her.
The moment she'd realized it was Jake's blood staining her hands her focus had switched to stopping that flow of blood. Up until that moment, nothing had mattered but saving Robbie. It hadn't been until they were back at the compound—until she was in the shower that it had hit her what she'd done. She'd chosen Jake over her brother.
No. She hadn't chosen. Fate or God or the bad guys had made the choice for her. On some level she'd believed she'd already lost Rob and that she could have lost Jake as well. She'd elevated the loss of Jake to the level of losing her brother, and there was only one reason she would have done that.
The hotel bed came back into focus before her.
No. No. No. There was danger in falling for Jake St. John.
Though Jake epitomized Savage, a man whose past—whose secrets she knew, Jake's past was of his own making. She had no part in creating whatever made him the man he was—in manipulating his future. She had no way of writing a happy ending for him…for her.
Yet, the man who was supposed to just give her a taste of Savage, a fling, had become much more than Savage—more than her fantasy man. She'd tried to ignore the facts. But, one was indisputable. She needed to know more about Jake St. John.
She moved around the bed to where her suitcase stood open on the luggage stand beside the Juliet balcony. She fingered the red, lace bra and panties tucked into the corner of her bag. Would learning about Jake's past begin tonight in the bed behind her? She wasn't as sure of that move as she'd been when she'd issued her challenge, when she thought she wanted only a taste of a fantasy.
She looked at Jake on the couch. The light off the screen revealed a pinched brow.
"You're worried," she said.
"Just going over things."
"You've gone over everything a hundred times."
He looked up at her, met her gaze. "Whoever we're dealing with wants Rob dead. Maybe now even you and me and my team. This is serious."
She hugged her arms across her stomach. Her little foray into fantasyland had distracted her from the reality of their situation.
"First we find out who they are, then we shut them down," he said, holding her gaze. "Trust me."
Funny thing was she did trust him, even without knowing much of anything about him or his past…or what he was going to do in the immediate future. And her immediate future might be her last chance to know the touch of the only flesh and blood man to ever make her tingle.
She eyed the bed at her hip. "I'm going to bed. You joining me?"
"I'll take the couch," he said, his eyes fixed with that trust me look.
"We're adults. I'm sure we can handle sharing a bed," she said, watching him for reaction.
Regret pulled at the corners of his eyes and he shook his head. "Not a good idea."
She took her sleep shorts and a tee from her suitcase and headed for the bathroom to change. He'd answered her challenge with a big no. Oddly, she was relieved. But damn, she wished he would have said yes.
A SEAL grabbed rest wherever he could and under any condition. Yet, here he was, on a padded couch that beat rock hard ground any day, staring at the shadows cast across a hotel room ceiling from the street lights below.
Damn, he wanted to crawl into that bed beside Bliss.
We can handle sharing a bed.
He couldn't, not with Bliss. And not just because he wanted to make love to her.
He wanted to know what it was like to sleep against her warm, soft body. He wanted to know normal when he knew he'd given up any chance at a normal life long ago. And to share anything resembling normal with Bliss could only give her false hope of more for them.
No. She deserved better. She deserved a man who wasn't broken.
Bliss waited in front of the hotel restaurant with her brother while Jake gave Asher and Dozer last minute instructions. The trio strode past them and
out the main entry in touristy tan cargo pants and toting backpacks about a third the size of their usual military pack, Jake issuing a clipped, "Let's go" as he passed.
She gave the restaurant a longing glance before following the men outside. With the sun cresting the mountains, the city before her blossomed into a sea of egg-yolk yellows, burnt oranges, coral-tinted pinks, and deep turquoises. For a moment she forgot about her rumbling stomach.
"We'll pick up breakfast from a street vender," Jake said, drawing her attention to where he waited for her in the street.
There was that nagging annoyance with Jake again, the same one she'd felt after Rob's return—after Jake had rejected her first invitation into her bed.
"I wasn't thinking about food. I was admiring the beauty of the city."
A muscle twitched in his cheek, tugging one corner of his mouth. "That's not what your growling stomach tells me."
She pressed her hand over her stomach.
"Street vender food will be faster than the restaurant, especially as packed as it was with tourists come to celebrate Dia de los Muertos."
"Day of the Dead?" she questioned, calling on her limited Spanish for translation as she strode toward where Jake waited.
"Has to do with honoring the dead. Big festival. Lots of noise. Lots of color. Lots of food."
She stopped in front of him, their gazes holding. "Sounds more like a celebration of life."
Two couples bustled from the hotel past them, jabbering in some Eastern European language—breaking the mood between her and Jake.
"Yeah," Jake said, turning away from her and heading off after Rob, Asher, and Dozer.
Why she'd said what she had, Bliss didn't know. Maybe she was trying to remind him of something. Maybe she was just making conversation. Whatever. She was looking forward to sampling street vendor food. And getting some time with her brother.
He'd slept through most of the alone time they'd had together back at the compound and they'd had no time to talk otherwise, what with him and Jake conferring. Like Jake had said, things were happening fast.
She caught up to the men and slipped an arm around Rob's shoulders. "How are the ribs?"
"Sore," he muttered.
Behind the sunglasses he wore to hide the bruises, his eyes darted about the narrow street and across the buildings lining it. They'd had the why didn't you tell me you were in trouble conversation in the infirmary, so she already knew he'd run rather than lead the trouble home to her. When she'd asked, "Why'd you run from Jake's protection?"
"Because they found me," he'd murmured and fallen into an exhausted sleep.
She tipped her head against his shoulder. Now was the time to remind him he had a sister who loved and cared for him, a sister who could help shoulder his fears. With Jake in point and Asher and Dozer bringing up the rear, they strode the street and talked, Rob's head soon tipped against hers.
As the streets grew crowded with foot traffic, he shared the mundane as well as some laughable moments of his experiences. They avoided discussing the scary happenings.
But, at the first whiff of food, Rob's head jerked up. He may have been on the run from murderers the last two of his nearly twenty-one years, but he was still a boy, and a hungry one judging by the way he eyeballed the food vendors they passed.
Asher and Dozer, equipped with a tablet containing street photos and the door they hunted, headed off in their own direction. Jake stopped her and Rob in front of a vendor.
"Fresh squeezed juice is a local must-have to start your day here," he said, handing the vendor money. "Pick out what you two want and grab me a mango mix."
"I don't want any," Rob said, shoving his hands in his pockets and stepping away.
"He never was much for fruit juice," she said, trying to convince herself there was nothing odd about him turning down something to eat.
She picked a large covered plastic container of pineapple juice, and followed Jake to where Rob stood in front of an empanada stand all but drooling. Jake nudged him as they passed. "There's a better place the next street over."
She spotted a cart filled with plastic cups of melon cubes, pineapple spears, and strawberries. She stopped, and began to dig out money from a side pocket on her backpack.
"I'd recommend the melon," Jake said, handing the vendor some coins.
"Just what I had my eye on," she said, selecting a cup of mixed melon cubes. "And thanks again for buying, but I can pay for my own."
"I'll add it to your expense account."
"Are you making a funny, or have I actually become a client?"
He shrugged, finished off his mango juice, and moved on to a stand where a couple women fried taco shells, and vats of sauce and cooked beans lined a slab-wood counter. The older of the women shrieked when she saw him and all but threw herself over the counter to hug Jake.
They jabbered with each other in Spanish, the smile Jake gave the old woman reaching his eyes. Bliss wanted to make him smile all the way to his eyes like that.
"Bliss, this is my friend Celestina."
Touched that Jake included her in the introductions, she gave the woman a wide smile and extended her hand. "Mucho Gusto."
The old woman enclosed Bliss' hand in both of hers and rattled off something in Spanish with Bliss catching only Señorita. She looked at Jake for translation. He said something to Celestina that sounded less than agreeable.
But the young woman behind the counter frying flat bread giggled and translated for her. "Mama say you are the first Señorita Señor Jake introduce to her, and she approves."
"And that impudent puppy is Maria," Jake said, making a got-my-eyes-on-you gesture.
The warning was all in fun, judging by the smile lifting Jake's features as he turned his attention to Bliss. "You like your sauce spicy or mild?"
"I've got enough to eat here," Bliss said, holding up her fruit container and juice cup.
"You need something hardier," Jake said.
"Okay. Spicy then."
He hiked an eyebrow at her. "You sure? It can get pretty hot in Mexico."
"I'm sure," she countered, adding a challenging note to her voice.
A corner of his mouth twitched. Could SEALishly serious Jake St. John actually be contemplating mischief?
"Red or green sauce?" he asked.
She liked this playful side of Jake.
"Whichever you recommend," she replied, holding his gaze even as he asked Rob which sauce he wanted.
"I don't have any money," Rob said.
"I'm buying," Jake said, both of them shifting their gazes to Rob.
Rob's lips twitched. "Can I get an empanada from over there instead? They look better."
"Mama Celestina serves good, clean food," Jake said in a tone that allowed no argument. "And very tasty."
Rob nodded. "Whichever sauce is the mildest."
Jake gave Celestina their order and she loaded three tacos with beans, pork, and the sauce choices. Jake handed Rob the paper wrapped taco with red sauce and offered Bliss one with green sauce.
Bliss glanced from the fruit juice in one hand to the fruit cup in the other. "Ah."
"Here," he said, taking the fruit cup from her and handing her the taco.
Before accepting his own taco, he snagged a couple chunks of melon and popped them in his mouth.
"Hey," she teased. "I thought you meant to just hold the cup for me."
One corner of his mouth twitched. "Looked too good to resist."
That twitch, the glint in his eyes made her wish he'd felt that playful last night in the hotel room. Some fruit juice drippled from the corner of his mouth. If she'd had a free hand, she'd have taken the opportunity to wipe it away—to touch him. He swiped at it with the back of his hand before accepting his taco from Celestina. Lucky hand.
He nodded toward a broad, stone stairway at the back of the tarped booths. Rob had wolfed down his taco before she and Jake had even settled on the steps.
"You want another?" she asked him.
He nodded. She reached for her backpack. Jake tossed him some coins. "Get yourself a fruit juice while you're at it. Keep yourself hydrated."
"How do you know that lady and her daughter?" Bliss asked, more interested in learning about Jake than the bustling courtyard of people.
"I get up to Guanajuato now and then. Have some clients here."
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Residential Security. Cameras, alarms. That sort of stuff."
"And this led you to Celestina how?"
"When you hang around an area, it's beneficial to get to know the lay of the land."
"And its people?" she asked.
"Word was she kept a clean stand and served good food."
Bliss nodded and exchanged her fruit cup for her taco.
"Her son got involved with the wrong people," Jake elaborated.
"And you helped him out."
"Let's just say I got him uninvolved."
Bliss bit into her taco. Heat flooded her mouth, the kind that came from the oils of peppers, not fire. She choked and gasped.
"I warned you," Jake said as she swallowed. "You want me to get a milder one for you?"
She took a long swallow of juice and choked out, "I can handle it."
He tipped an imaginary hat to her.
For a moment, it was like they were a couple tourists on holiday, sampling local cuisine, sharing food, enjoying the hustle of pre Dia de los Muertos festivities. Until her eye found Rob at the taco stand.
"He's so thin."
"I should have let him stay at the compound," Jake said. "He'd at least have gotten three squares a day."
So Jake had noticed the sparse rations at Rob's apartment, too. "Why didn't you?"
He shrugged. "He said he had a place in town. I thought he preferred it that way. And then there's that security thing. He was an outsider. I didn't want him wandering around and finding out things he shouldn't."
"Like what? That you have bunkrooms, bathrooms, and a workout room beyond the common rooms?"
"And an arsenal."
"You don't think anyone couldn't have figured that out?"
"I just never gave him much thought. He didn't stand out."