“Are you okay? You’re shivering.”
Moriah didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just nodded. She tried to concentrate on his instructions, but her mind wandered again. She wondered if her finger was in the trigger guard when she’d been aiming the gun at KC’s chest the night before.
As if he read her mind, he reached out and tapped her right hand. “Last night your finger was along the side of the gun, as it should have been, but your grip was a little off.”
KC took a step to the side to eye her stance again and then moved back behind her. Pointing at two small raised pieces with red dots on them at the top of the gun, he explained, “These are your rear sights. You want to line up the small space between them to the front sight, and then line that up with where you want to shoot. Okay? Now, line everything up, slowly squeeze the trigger, and try to hit the bad guy on the target.”
Holding her breath, Moriah did what he told her, except at the last second, she shut her eyes. The gun discharged with a loud explosion and bucked in her hand, causing her to let out a startled yelp. “Shit!”
Behind her, KC put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Okay, not bad.”
Staring at the target, she cried out in dismay. “But I didn’t even hit the guy, and I closed my eyes.”
He laughed, and she felt the rumbling sound all the way down to her toes, but not until after it swirled around in between her legs a few times. Concentrate, you idiot.
“No, you didn’t hit him, but you did hit the paper target within two inches of him. Not bad for your first time and considering you shut your eyes. The shot going off is supposed to surprise you, but try not to let the muzzle come up too far. Don’t jerk the trigger. Take a deep breath and start to slowly pull the trigger as you let the air out. And don’t close your eyes this time.”
Moriah lined up the target with the sights again, inhaled deeply, and gradually let the air out of her lungs as she squeezed the trigger. This time, she kept her eyes open, and when the gun discharged, a small hole appeared in the black area at the lower left side of the target.
“I did it!” She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, yet carefully keeping the gun pointed down range.
KC let out a hearty chuckle at her excitement. “You sure did, but you just winged him. Try it again. Aim at his chest to stop him. If you have to shoot someone you want to make sure he’s not getting back up.”
Moriah tried it again and again, and after a box of fifty rounds, she had made more bullet holes in the black part of the target than not. She was so proud of herself she briefly forgot why she was learning to shoot in the first place.
After making sure the gun’s safety was on, and the clip was empty of bullets, KC directed her to a small work area, outside of the range, next to the steps leading back upstairs to the store.
He gathered their eye and ear protection and placed them in the appropriate storage bins. As he showed her how to break down the weapon before cleaning and oiling it properly, he praised her. “See, I knew you were a natural.”
She glanced up at him and was about to answer when his smile turned into a frown. “What’s wrong?”
KC was holding two pieces of the dismantled gun and staring at her. His expression was accusing and intimidating. “Where’d you get this? The serial number’s been filed off.”
Fear came over Moriah, and she tried to swallow, but her suddenly parched mouth wouldn’t allow it. She said the first thing that came to her mind. “I sort of stole it from my ex-boyfriend. I swear, I don’t know where he got it, but I took it for protection.”
She licked her dry lips as he continued to stare at her. Did he know she was lying? Nerve-racking seconds ticked by, but then his expression eased, and he nodded his head. “Okay, I’m not thrilled about that, but I can understand it. Just do me one favor and keep it hidden. And do not, I repeat, do not point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot.”
Moriah’s shoulders relaxed a little as she tried to smile and push the tension out of the room. “Like you?”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, KC gave her a small smile. “Yeah, like me.”
C
HAPTER 7
K C stood on the patio, grilling the two rib-eye steaks he’d picked up on their way home from the shooting range along with a bottle of merlot and a few other groceries. Two baked potatoes and fresh corn-on-the-cob were cooking on the upper rack of the gas grill. He’d offered to cook dinner for Maura in honor of her being such an excellent student.
Ever since they left the range, he’d wanted to talk to her about her ex-boyfriend, maybe help ensure the jackass would leave her alone, but decided to wait until after they had eaten to broach the subject. Her ex must have really done a number on her because she was obviously frightened, and it killed him to see any woman in that condition. Men who hurt women, physically or emotionally, were the scum of the earth and needed a dose of their own medicine. KC just wished he could be the one to administer it to the bastard who’d harmed Maura and put the fear into her beautiful baby blues.
He dropped his head back and stared at the sky. Where the hell did that idea come from? He barely knew the woman and already he was prepared to fight her battles for her? Get a hold of yourself, Malone. Four weeks of self-defense and shooting lessons. Nothing more. Uh-huh, right. He told the devil on his shoulder to shut the fuck up. Giving himself a mental shake, he reminded himself that this was temporary, and Maura had given him no signs she wanted to play house for the next few weeks.
If he repeated the “self-defense and shooting lessons only” mantra over and over, he could try to keep himself in check, but he knew it would be hard. When he’d been standing behind her at the range, it had taken all his strength not to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. Her silky, auburn hair was made for a man to run his hands through it, and her body had been created for pure pleasure. He felt his cock twitch as he thought of how her incredible body would feel under his as he touched, licked, and nibbled every inch of her. He groaned aloud at the image of her doing the same things to him.
Again? Back off, Malone! His mind screamed at the horned, red prick on his shoulder holding a pitchfork. The lady didn’t need to be mauled by a guy who’d been without a lover for almost a year. After an abusive relationship, she needed someone gentle, and he knew if he ever got her in his bed, there would be nothing gentle about what he’d do to her. He would attack her like a male lion with its mate, pawing at her as he took what he wanted, leaving them both exhausted and sated. It would be hot, explosive, mind-blowing sex and probably scare the hell out of a woman like Maura. KC had been involved with plenty of lovers in his past, but no real relationships. After weeding out the SEAL bunnies looking for a status position, he’d found very few women were willing to stay with a man who could be sent on a mission at the last minute. His tours were long, with the team being incommunicado for weeks or months at a time, and there was always the question of when, or if, he would ever be back.
So, he hooked up with women who wanted to have a few weeks of mutually gratifying, off-the-wall sex, and when they both decided it was time to move on, they’d go their separate ways with no regrets. It had always worked for him in the past, but lately, KC was starting to think of possibly finding someone to settle down with and have a family. If he left SEAL Team Six and became a training instructor, he would be home most evenings, which would be a plus in any relationship.
When he heard the door above him open, he glanced over his shoulder and watched as Maura stepped out. She leaned over the wood banister facing him. “Since it’s still warm out, I thought we might eat out here on the deck. What do you think?”
He stared at her for a minute, letting his eyes roam over her from head to toe. She’d showered after they got home and changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a white, V-neck shirt which showed only a hint of cleavage, but it was enough to make his mouth water. What was that cliché? The woman could make a burlap sack look sexy. Her freshly dr
ied hair was down and blowing gently in the light breeze coming off the ocean. Again, he had the urge to run his fingers through it to see if the strands were as soft as they seemed.
He must have taken too long to answer because she frowned. “Or we could sit inside if you want.”
KC shook his head to get his brain and mouth working again. “No, no. Out here is just fine.”
Her smile lit up her face again. “Great. Then I’ll bring out the plates and utensils.”
Turning, she sashayed back through the door, and the sight of her posterior was just as exceptional as the front of her—the woman had one damn, fine ass. He groaned again and turned back toward the grill. Reaching down, he adjusted himself for what felt like the fiftieth time since he’d met her less than twenty-four hours ago. This was going to be the longest four weeks of his life.
* * *
Moriah placed her fork and knife on the empty plate in front of her and pushed it toward the middle of the table. “That was the best meal I’ve had in ages.” And she meant it. She’d barely eaten her sandwich at lunch, after losing her appetite over the deal she’d made with KC, but now she felt more relaxed. “Everything tasted delicious. Thanks so much for making dinner. You’re an excellent chef.”
During the meal, they’d talked about a variety of safe subjects, such as the town of Whisper, the beach, old movies, current events, and even the weather. Moriah had found it comfortable, soothing, and peaceful. Nothing personal was brought up, and she felt almost normal again. She could be anyone she wanted to be right now. Someone free and safe, without a care in the world. No one else would know the difference . . . but she would know, and that was bad enough.
Swirling the wine in his glass, KC smiled at her. “The pleasure was all mine. I love to cook but don’t get a chance to do it often.”
“Well, I’m glad you had this opportunity since I benefited from it.” She watched as he took a sip of wine, and her pussy clenched as he swallowed, and his tongue peeked out to lick his lips. God, the man, was even sexy taking a drink. How the hell was she supposed to concentrate on anything but his body? He was the epitome of male perfection. His muscles rippled whenever he moved, and she longed to run her fingers and mouth over every inch of him. Moriah blushed at where her mind had gone and searched her brain for something else to talk about. “So, what do you do in the military? Which branch are you in?”
“The Navy. I joined when I was eighteen, two weeks after my high school graduation. I became a SEAL when I was twenty-three.”
“Wow, really? That’s a big thing, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t know much about the military, but everyone has heard about Navy SEALs these days. How long have you been one?”
“Twelve years, but I think I’m finally beginning to burn out.” He paused, then grunted. “Huh. That’s the first time I’ve admitted that to anyone except my brothers and uncle.”
Tilting her head, Moriah eyed him curiously. “Why do you think you’re burning out?”
Relaxing against the back of the chair, he stretched his legs out under the table. “I guess I’m just getting tired of being in the worst countries in the world, seeing the evils that exist, and fighting the scum of the earth. I can be out of the U.S. for months at a time, and then I stay in my apartment near the base or here when I have some extended time off. I don’t own anything except my car. Maybe it’s time to retire, buy a house near the base, and settle down. Leave the fighting and secret operations to the younger guys and start training the newbies.”
“Younger guys?” she asked, incredulously. She quickly did the math in her head. “How old are you, thirty-five?” KC nodded in agreement. “I’m twenty-seven, so thirty-five doesn’t sound very old at all.”
“It is in the SEALs. I’m actually the second oldest guy on my team by one year. In my business, you can burn out quickly. Sometimes I’m surprised I’m still there. But leaving my teammates is a big decision. They’re like family, and for a lot of the guys, I’m sort of their big brother.”
“Like I said, I’ve heard of Navy SEALs, but never knew what they were, besides being this group of tough guys everyone talks about. Well, that and when they’re the heroes of romance novels.”
He chuckled as he rested his hands and wine glass on his chiseled abs. “Romantic heroes, huh? I’ve spent weeks in the middle of nowhere with those guys, without showers and other amenities. I can honestly tell you, there’s nothing romantic about it.” She giggled, and he continued. “I’ll give you a little military history lesson. SEAL stands for Sea, Air, and Land. It’s an elite group formed by the Navy under the orders of President Kennedy back in 1962. Most of the candidates who are chosen for SEALs’ training wind up dropping out because it’s so intense. We go on clandestine operations, which larger or less experienced units can’t do for one reason or another. We can be sent in under any conditions or to any location, but a lot of our training and missions involve water of some sort. Usually, it’s our way into or out of some foreign country, unless it’s landlocked, of course. Some of the missions can be over pretty quickly, while other times, we can be out of the U.S. and undercover for months. Our work sends us into countries we’re not allowed to mention, and we perform missions that, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, never happened.”
“Is that why you don’t have a military haircut? Because you were undercover?”
Nodding, he ran a hand through his hair. “Yup. But I can’t tell you anything about it. The key to the SEALs’ ongoing success is the silence of its members, and it’s the reason our teammates are so close to each other. We can’t discuss our operations, successes or failures, with any civilians or members of the military outside of our own teams. We use each other as our own personal psychologists for any subject involving our missions, instead of our families, wives, or girlfriends. Unfortunately, some women have problems with it, so a lot of our guys are single.”
“Do you have one?”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “One what?”
“You’re obviously not married, but do you have a girlfriend?” Now why the hell had she asked that question? Moriah gave herself mental smack on the back of her head. She wasn’t interested in him . . . was she? Well, it wouldn’t make any difference if she was or not; he would be gone in four weeks, and she would probably be leaving even sooner.
“No,” he answered, staring at her intently. “I’m unattached and have been for quite a while.”
Moriah swallowed hard under his scrutiny and changed the subject back to something safe. “You sound like you love what you do.”
He silently considered her for a few moments longer before answering. “I do, but like I said, I think it might be my time to move on.”
“What will you do if you leave the Navy?”
After taking a sip of wine, he shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly be leaving the Navy, just my team. I’ve been offered a training instructor position at the base in Little Creek. I’d be training the younger guys.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow, that’s great. I think you would be a fantastic instructor.”
“You do? Why would you think that?”
Pointing to herself, she giggled. “Well, look how well you trained me to shoot today. I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn, as they say, before I met you.”
He grinned. “That was easy. I told you, you’re a natural.”
“That may be, but I still think you’re a great instructor.” Tilting her chin up, she all but dared him to argue with her further. “You should go for it.”
His gaze fell to his wine glass, and he let out a little chuckle. “Thanks. Maybe I will.”
“Good. Now that I’ve given my unsolicited opinion about your career change let me clean this up.”
When she stood, KC started to rise from his chair as well. “I’ll help.”
“No, I have it.” She waved him back to his seat. “You cooked. Besides it won’t take long since we only used the two place settings and no pots or pans
. I’ll put on some coffee.”
As she carried the plates and utensils into the house, Moriah tried to push the feelings of domesticity from her mind. This had been the best evening she’d ever spent with a man, but dinner and conversation were as far as it could go between them. Even if she wasn’t on the run, she doubted KC would be interested in her. She was eight years his junior and had come from nothing. He, on the other hand, had a career and plans for the future. Her only plan was to still be alive to wake up every morning—not exactly something to attract a man with.
C
HAPTER 8
K C settled into his chair again as Maura cleared the table. After she had carried the plates inside, he stared out over the ocean and thought about what a pleasant meal it had been. It had been a long time since he’d simply enjoyed talking to a woman. Aside from his attraction to her, he felt at ease in her presence, which would make the next four weeks enjoyable—as long as he could keep his dick out of the equation. She was recovering from an abusive relationship and didn’t strike him as the type of woman who would go for a short fling, therefore, she was off limits. Or was she? Maybe things didn’t have to be temporary. They had four weeks to get to know each other better. Maybe something good would come out of this. Only time would tell.
The temperature outside was beginning to drop now that the sun was setting, but he didn’t want this peaceful feeling to end. He stood and headed downstairs to the patio where there was an outdoor seating area surrounding a black, metal fire pit. A nice roaring fire, coffee, and some more conversation would be the perfect way to finish the day. Crouching down, he reached to retrieve a few logs which were kept under the cottage to keep them dry. He heard Maura come back out of the house above him and figured she’d be wondering where he went. “I’m down here.”
“Do you want . . . ?” She stopped short. “What are you doing?”
Take the Money and Run_Book 1_Malone Brothers Page 5