Ruggedly masculine, this scent called to her. It soothed her. At the most primitive level of her soul, it told her she was safer than she’d ever been. It told her to stay. So she took another breath and held it, like the last bite of the chocolate chip cookies her dad used to bake. The last warm, gooey, melted treat on her tongue. How she’d savored every bite, but the last was always the best.
With a tentative yawn, she let that yummy scent escape as she stretched, then froze when the tape stretched over various parts of her body reminded her that everything had changed. She wasn’t the unsuspecting woman she’d been yesterday. A desperate urge to hide under the bed like she’d done in years past when her mother had one of her bad days, stormed over her.
Her carefully constructed reality shattered. She was back to being that frightened little girl locked in a closet. McKenna didn’t dare close her eyes, afraid of the flashbacks her brain was adept at throwing at her. Her confidence really was gone.
“But I am a good person,” she told herself as sternly as she could, striving to rise above the darkness. “I’m a dedicated pediatrician. I do good work in this town, and people respect me. They should. I might be my mother’s daughter, but I am not my mother. I am a survivor. I am strong. I am smart.” But I’m still afraid.
Fighting panic now and struggling to clear her brain from the muck and webs of childhood abuse, McKenna forced a deep breath and focused on her strange surroundings. She’d never been here before, and she wasn’t exactly certain where here was. It wasn’t Kelsey’s place. She remembered being treated by Libby and Kelsey, had in fact taught Kelsey first-aid tactics. Those two friends of hers couldn’t be too far away. Alex and Maverick, also. They’d been in her apartment last night. They’d helped her. She was almost sure of it.
But Beau... He’d been there, too. She definitely remembered him. The feral look that washed over his face right before he’d fought Montego. McKenna had risked the cutting wire at her throat to catch that one glimpse of him. He’d killed Montego, hadn’t he? Oh, please, please, let that cruel heartless excuse for a human being be cold and dead, on her back in some morgue.
Trembling, McKenna forced a slow inhalation instead of the quick hard breaths pounding at her. Expanding her belly with the masculine scent she never wanted to be without, she held her breath as long as she could. Then, oh, so slowly, she let it hiss out of her nostrils, even as tears brimmed her eyes, and her fingertips dug into the solid muscles beneath her hands. For years, she’d fought to NOT be afraid of shadows, but with one brutal, chance encounter, Catalina Montego had stripped all sense of security away.
Except for the steady breathing from the man whose side she found herself tucked neatly into, the room was quiet. All by itself that sure masculine contact calmed her ragged nerves. She wasn’t alone, and Montego couldn’t get her. If anyone could keep her from that heartless woman’s grasp, it was this man right here, the one so sure of himself that he slept like a rock. Her rock.
Okay. I can do this. I can be strong. Now. Before he sees me. I can get a grip and gather my wits and not fall apart like some hysterical bimbo on television. I’m smarter than that. I’m stronger. I can be who I was yesterday. I can. I know I can. I will!
Maybe…
Still breathing hard, she focused on Beau. He was the strong one. He didn’t need to wake up because of her panic attack. Man. He was beautiful in slumber. Peaceful. Oblivious to the wreck he held in his arm. Laying on his back, his magnificent chest was laid bare, the sheet pooled at his hips barely covered his waist. Talk about mouth-watering washboard abs. Everything about him declared his rugged masculinity.
His skin was darker than hers and rough where hers was smooth. Dark curly hairs dusted his pecs, then narrowed to a trail from his belly button to below the sheet. Distracted by the friendly beast she found herself snuggled up to, and calmer now, McKenna continued her very astute examination of the massive body beside her. In the same bed. Like he belonged here.
He’d lifted his poor left arm, the wrist over his eyes, and his hand was still bandaged. With his wavy, black hair swept back, the need to run her fingers through it persisted. It looked thick and soft. Luscious. Her nostrils flared at the scent of whatever shampoo or body wash he’d used.
He’d survived the fight with Montego, but it gave McKenna pause. She’d never seen a woman fight before, not that she’d seen much of this fight either, not with her head and neck restrained by that wire under her chin. But she’d listened intently, and it had sounded like Montego hadn’t hesitated for a second. Like she’d been prepared. Attack, attack, attack. That seemed her only agenda, and she’d thrown herself at Beau the second he’d opened the bedroom door. Almost as if she’d known he’d show up, as if she’d set a trap for him.
Shuddering at the possibility that Montego was just that cunning and evil, McKenna rubbed her cheek against his pec, basking in the musky, male scent of his skin, and so damned thankful for this courageous man. He’d not only shown up in the nick of time, but he’d come alone, and he’d fought like the devil for her. Beau was one of those brave first responders, the guys who ran into burning buildings when everyone else ran out.
A sob sneaked up on McKenna, catching in her throat. If not for this man right here, she would’ve been sliced to ribbons and in a morgue by now. He’d come for her. He was her hero.
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t help but cry. She licked her lips again at the wealth of muscles encasing his taut body. His arms alone were massive, constructed of bulges over more bulges. He must work out a lot considering the large dark veins tracking up his forearms and biceps like roadmaps.
For sure, this guy was a solid chunk of eye candy. The white bed sheets enhanced his olive skin. His ebony eyelashes were so thick, they looked more like brushes. His lips were lush, and his mouth barely open. Again, his thick dark hair tempted McKenna to run her hand over his head. To cup the back of his head. To hold him still and kiss him senseless.
Heat pooled at her core. What woman wouldn’t want to wake up to find this drool-worthy, albeit scruffy and somewhat banged up alley cat beside her? Even in his sleep, Beau seemed determined to hold her. She was more than okay with his right palm splayed at the middle of her back like he’d never let her go.
Fluttering her fingertips over the crisp hairs on his chest, she purposely inhaled his distinct male scent again. Not to wake him, but to remind herself that she was safe. He was precisely what McKenna needed, the man who could take Montego down.
But just as fast as she breathed a sigh of relief, the nightmare she’d lived through last night rolled over her like a crackling thunderstorm, each lightning strike full of night terrors and a reminder of how close she’d come to not just dying, but to being murdered. The cruel wires. The frightening noose. The slimy rasp of Montego’s chin against her cheek when Montego warned, “…or mommy’s going to be very upset, and you know what will happen then.”
Argh! How had she known about Aurora? Or did she? Was Montego simply a witch who’d gotten lucky when she’d conjured the worst nightmare of McKenna’s life? Or had Montego known precisely how to scare the hell out of her? Was she a mind reader?
“Never! I’m not your child,” McKenna hissed at the vicious ghost still playing evil tricks with her mind. Outright disgust shivered up her spine. But when she jerked away, Beau’s palm moved reflexively. His fingers splayed wider, crushing her against his ribs as if he knew precisely how much she needed his brand of assurance. His breathing became stronger. His breaths came faster. Harsher.
“Thank you, Beau,” she whispered in case he was awake, the knot in her throat so hard to swallow. “You didn’t have to, but you came to my rescue, and you saved my life. I’ll never forget you.”
“Ah-huh,” he murmured, his eyes still closed, but his hand exactly where she needed it.
That was enough for McKenna. She sagged against him and at last, her eyelids grew heavy. The last thing she felt was the brush of
his whiskers and the gentlest kiss against her forehead when he muttered a sleepy, “Thank you, Jesus.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I want to know where she is now, and how she got to Dr. Fitzgerald as quickly as she did,” Alex growled over the phone.
He’d been doing a lot of growling since he’d awakened. Truth was he’d hardly closed his eyes last night after Maverick drove him home. That was what happened when some moron threatened his team. This power struggle with Catalina Montego, the woman Kelsey had met as Athena, was all out warfare. Just the idea that his sweet wife had been close enough to the murderess, that she could’ve joined Beau on that gruesome workbench inside Ringer’s, galled Alex to his soul. Montego had to be located quickly and put down like the rabid dog she was.
She had to have an accomplice as easily as she’d gotten inside Fitzgerald’s quaint colonial. His reasoning? Sheriff Howie Prince’s men had found Montego’s fingerprints all over McKenna’s apartment, as well as on the outdoor main electrical panel. Dr. Fitz wasn’t going back into that death trap if Alex had anything to say about it.
Not only had Montego cut the electrical lines to the entire building, she’d also rigged quite the contraption beneath McKenna’s bed. That had to have taken time. A regular trap and pulley system, once fully engaged, it was intended not only to cut McKenna’s throat, but to slice her into sections by the time Montego finished.
Beau hadn’t known when he’d interrupted the psychotic bitch, but she’d set up a video cam to film that particular gruesome work. Howie Prince had that evidence, too. Which meant Montego or someone else had been inside McKenna’s before she’d fled protective custody. Not a smart move, but Alex understood why she’d done it. Civilians assumed they were safe once they locked their front doors and turned off their lights at night.
Guess again, people. Anyone—ANYONE—who seriously wanted to kill you, could and would unless you were smart enough to accept responsibility for your own defense. Why was that such a hard concept for the American public to grasp?
But Montego’s obsession with The TEAM had escalated overnight. Who’d be next?
Catalina Montego, that’s who.
“I’ve got nothing, Boss,” Mother said again, her tone unusually somber.
A techno-genius like no other, she’d only recently revealed to Alex and The TEAM that she’d given birth to a seriously handicapped daughter when she was younger. As in years younger. Dempsey was eighteen now and dealing with Downs Syndrome, complicated by a rare genetic lung disorder.
Imagine that unsettling surprise inside a close-knit team where men and women’s lives hung in a delicate balance from one day to the next. To say they’d been shocked put it mildly. Most agents understood, at least they’d said they did. But Mother’s lack of faith in the people she worked with had deeply shaken the bedrock of The TEAM that Alex had nurtured for years.
Dempsey hadn’t died as young as Mother’s physicians had predicted she would, though. Thanks to recent medical advances, Dempsey’s health was better today than it had ever been. Mother now held hope that her only child would live past the age of twenty. But her deceit, although Mother termed it being an overly protective single parent, had come at a high price. One Alex was still leveraging.
Revealing the secret of Dempsey had been shocking enough, but when Mother had also revealed she was, oh, by the way, one of the wealthiest women in the United States? That she in fact owned patents galore on hundreds of video games and spy-tech inventions? That she only worked because she needed something productive to do with her overactive brain?
Yeah. Not good. Unintentionally, she’d rocked The TEAM’s confidence in her to the point they no longer trusted her. They found ways to work around her. Without her. Which in turn, hurt Mother deeply. Even Ember Dennison, Mother’s savvy comspec assistant, had distanced herself from her one-time BFF. As obnoxiously nosey as Mother could be, The TEAM was her family. And she missed them.
Trouble on the home front was never a good thing. Alex had to find a way to fix it before he lost Sasha Kennedy, the woman he’d nicknamed Mother on her first day at work, and not because she was Suzy Homemaker material in any way, shape, or form.
“I don’t believe that,” he challenged her. “She’s got to have someone working with her.”
“If she does, that person’s just as invisible as she is. I’m beginning to think you’re dealing with a real ghost this time.”
“There are no such things,” Alex grumbled at that notion. “Anything on Aaron Pope yet?”
“Only this,” Mother murmured, no doubt because, as usual, she was half-listening while she worked. “The FBI found his thumbprint on a murder case last year. It was only a partial, but I checked. It matches his military records.”
“Impossible. He’s been dead for years.”
“You don’t know that for sure. People disappear all the time when they want to. Maybe Aaron did, too. Did you ever think of that?”
“No,” Alex stated unequivocally. “He wouldn’t have done something so heinous to his family as walk away and never look back. I worked with him, damn it. He wrote home every week, twice on Sundays. I know him.”
“Do you also know how many good friends and neighbors say that about serial killers?”
She had a point there.
“Tell me about the murder he supposedly attended.”
“Air Force cadet on TDY orders at Andrews Air Force Base. Nineteen-year-old Phillip Stansky. His body was found in a nursery’s compost pile. But get this. All his fingers were missing.” TDY orders were temporary travel orders authorizing travel for military members or Department of Defense civilians.
The body had to have been in a state of rapid decomp by then. “How’d the police get Aaron’s fingerprint off a body?”
“They didn’t. The print was on a challenge coin they found in Stansky’s shirt pocket.”
“How long had he been missing?”
“Two years.”
“Shit,” Alex hissed, rolling the rigid cramp out of his neck. Wishing, just once, he didn’t wake up with a son-of-a-bitchin’ migraine already nagging him. “Where’d it come from?”
“LeJeune.”
A USMC challenge coin? Wasn’t that odd? Alex had a few of those coins left. It could mean nothing. Testosterone driven males one-upped each other all the time. But God? Was it possible? But nah. It couldn’t be. Alex refused to believe Aaron Pope was still alive, but what a coincidence.
“I’ve got to go,” Mother said quietly
Alex changed the subject. “How’s Dempsey?”
Another sigh. “Remember that boy I told you about, the one at the medical facility with her? The one who continually disobeyed all the rules?”
Alex winced. “Yes, Scott.” Don’t say it.
“David and his wife took her to Scott’s funeral today. I couldn’t bear to go, and David was kind and asked, so—”
Damn. It was no wonder Mother was off her game. “I’m sorry,” Alex said quickly. David Tao, one of Alex’s three senior agents, and his wife Nancy were good people. “That was kind of them. I know it’s hard.”
“Dempsey doesn’t understand why he had to die, and I’m tired. I’m just… tired.”
“Then come stay with Kelsey and Lexie until this nightmare is over. You and Dempsey will be plenty safe. Zack and Jake are already here with their families. Harley, Judy, and the boys, too. You’ll be in good company, and you know Lexie adores Dempsey. It’ll be good for both of you.”
“No, I’ve got work to—”
“I’m not asking, Sasha. I need you here with me. Today. I’ll contact Lee and Adam to escort you. Stay at the office until they arrive.”
“I can’t...” Mother choked, a sure sign she was emotional. “There’s something else. Her latest test results... They’re not good.”
Son-of-a-bitch. “How bad?” Alex knew this day would come. The holistic approach to modern medicine that had saved D
empsey the last time she’d nearly died couldn’t hold back the inevitable forever. The poor girl had been living on borrowed time for years. Like so many friends Alex had known, she’d rallied. But time was not on her side.
It took a full minute before Mother replied. “I have to be here when she gets back. I can’t—” Her voice broke.
“David will bring her to my place, Sasha. Come. Be with us instead of alone. Bring Justice, too.” Alex waited, his impatience in check while she struggled to speak.
Justice Sandler, a stately African American gentleman from the Old South, had once served as chief of security in the hotel Mother owned. During Dempsey’s last struggle, he’d come forward as her trusted confidant and faithful friend. Damned straight, she needed him in her corner, and she’d better not turn stubborn like Alex knew she could.
At last, she whispered, “I’ll bring my laptop. That’ll give me something to do until David delivers Dempsey. I’ll find Montego for you.”
“I know you will. Now get packed. The guys will be there soon.” He hung up the phone and tagged Agents Lee Hart and Adam Torrey to escort Mother and Dempsey to his place. One mission accomplished. One tender one about to unfold whether he wanted it to or not. One hellacious one to go. And the sun wasn’t up yet.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Beau’s first thought of the day? ‘If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up.’ It was immediately followed by, ‘Let this be real, Jesus. Please let this be real.’ A man like him didn’t wake up with his nose in such a lovely bouquet every morning. Certainly not with his hand all over the soft-as-sin ass of his former physician. It almost made the nagging ache of his injury worth it.
Cocking his head, Beau peered down at the angelic countenance of the sleeping lady snuggled up against him. Now that was a sight worth waking up to. Better than coffee any day. His blood overheated, and his heart started pumping like caffeine had never made it pump before. With an urgency to take McKenna. Hold her. Kiss her. Fold her up in his arms and never let her go. Yeah, he was stupid like that, and waking up with her so soft and pliable in his arms made him a total idiot.
Beau (In the Company of Snipers Book 18) Page 15