Down in Texas

by Delilah Devlin

  Suki’s frown deepened into a dark scowl. “You knew he was coming?”

  “Describe him, just to be safe.”

  Suki rolled her eyes and then swept Mac slowly with her pointed gaze. “Over six feet tall—”

  “Six-three,” he said silkily, warming to the exchange.

  “Dark brown hair with glints of red, cut short like a marine.”

  “I’m not a damn jarhead,” he growled.

  “Sour disposition. Bossy as hell. Needs to shave. Oh, and walks with a limp.”

  “That’s him, all right. Didn’t I call to tell you he was on his way?”

  “No.”

  Tara’s snort was pure theater. “I thought I had. Must have gotten busy. You didn’t shoot him or anything, did you?”

  Suki hit the OFF button and at last lowered her gun. “Guess you’re who you say you are,” she muttered. “Now get the hell out of here.”

  Mac stared steadily at the woman who seemed just as determined as he was, or had been, to go it alone. Taking a closer look, he noted the deep shadows under her eyes and the slight tremor of her hand as she set the weapon on the counter and flipped on the safety.

  She was too thin, her movements just a little jerky. She was at the end of her strength and badly in need of rest and relief from constant fear.

  Again, something he understood only too well. But he sat square in the middle of Texas, not Tikrit or Baghdad. It was a goddamn crime a woman should be scared out of her mind by some asshole who didn’t have the cojones to face her in the open or the right mind to just let her go.

  Mac drew a deep breath, arguing good and loud with himself about the merits of getting involved with someone else’s little war when he hadn’t managed to throw off the shadows that haunted him from the war he’d been ripped from three months earlier.

  “Suki, have a seat. I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk.”

  2

  The last thing Suki Reese needed was another man telling her how it was going to be. Her head pounded like thunder, she hadn’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep in days, and her stomach was so tense she thought she might throw up on Mac McDonough’s pointy leather boots. She’d lived on nerves and caffeine for the past week and felt ready to pass out.

  This had been her reality since she’d found the note pinned to her hotel-room door. No matter how hard the officers assigned to watch her argued, she’d quietly packed her bags and fled San Antonio for the comfort of her little cabin in the woods.

  She’d made only two phone calls since then: one to the officer in charge of the investigation into her boyfriend’s Mexican mafia connections, and one to Tara Toomey. She hadn’t known who else to call, who else might know someone who could get her out of this mess—or at least give her peace of mind so she could rest and plan her next steps.

  The man sitting in front of her, massaging his leg, didn’t look like the answer to her prayers.

  For one thing, he was too menacing—another hulking man who dwarfed her petite form. Admittedly, he was her preferred “type,” until she’d gotten involved with Manny Menchaca. The long, jagged scar on Mac’s cheek, the scruffy beard, and his dark, brooding expression made her quiver.

  Not that he wasn’t handsome underneath the macho crap. Broad shoulders and bulging biceps stretched his brown tee. Faded, fraying jeans hugged hips and thighs that would have made her sigh a few months ago. Add that to his piercing green eyes and rugged, sharp-edged features, and she ought to be drooling. Instead she noted the haggard lines pinching the sides of his lips and the pain that deepened the crease between his frowning eyes, and an unexpected surge of empathy flooded her.

  “You okay?” she asked quietly as she leaned against the counter behind her.

  “Sit,” he bit out. “Let’s talk.”

  Not ready to get too close, she hedged. “Want coffee?”

  “Got anything stronger?” She shook her head. “Shit. Coffee will have to do.”

  She busied herself drawing water from the faucet and setting the pot to brew before she faced him again.

  “Why this place?” he asked in his clipped fashion.

  “Why not? Wasn’t like the safe house the cops provided worked out.” She shrugged. “I like it here. I know it. I thought I might be able to relax a bit.”

  “You don’t think he’ll follow you here?”

  She shrugged. “I know he will. Once he figures it out.”

  “Tell me, are the police interested only because he’s stalking you?”

  “They’re interested because he’s connected to drug runners. DEA was ready to pull him in, but he escaped across the border.”

  “If he knows they’re after him, why would he bother coming back?”

  A bitter smile curved the corners of her lips. “He doesn’t take rejection well.” Her gaze fell to his leg. “What’s wrong with you anyway?”

  “My leg was blown to hell a few months back. I’m still recovering.”

  Curiosity burned inside her, but she really didn’t want to get too friendly and share too many secrets with the man. Not when she just wanted him to leave. “I know Tara’s trying to help, but don’t you think you should be somewhere taking it easy?”

  Mac’s smile wasn’t amused. “It’s true, I didn’t want to come. Tara asked me as a favor. If I had my choice, I’d be sitting back at my place with Jim Beam right now.”

  “I don’t know what she was thinking….”

  “Didn’t you ask her for help?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, “but you’re not what I had in mind.”

  His green gaze sharpened. “Because of my leg?”

  “No, because you’re too…” Heat crept across her cheeks. “You’re too big.”

  His expression remained unchanged—stayed watchful, slightly amused. “Do I frighten you?”

  She swallowed and then nodded. Better not let on about the other feeling.

  “Did this Manny hurt you?”

  The little strength holding her straight ebbed away, and she clutched the counter.

  “Goddamn,” he said softly and then pushed up from his seat and walked toward her.

  Suki’s eyes widened, and she shrank back.

  However, he simply held out his hand to cup her elbow and pulled her toward the table, waiting as she sat in the seat he’d vacated. “You look ready to pass out. I’ll get the coffee.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked rapidly.

  Mac limped around the kitchen while searching cupboards for cups. Then he poured coffee and returned, one cup at a time in his hand. The set of his jaw told her he had to concentrate, and she wondered how difficult it was to balance a cup of coffee, given his injury.

  Another twinge of sympathy tickled inside her. He’d said his leg was “blown to hell.” The wording of that statement and the camo-brown tee made her wonder if he was in the military.

  Certainly looked the type. Made sense Tara would send someone like him to watch over her. Still, Suki wished he wasn’t so intimidating.

  He brought over the second cup, hooked his hand around a chair back, and turned it to settle onto it backward, his legs spread wide around the sides. “What are your plans?”

  “Besides not getting killed?”

  He took a sip and narrowed his gaze. “Were you planning on staying here until he finds you?”

  She shrugged. “The law-enforcement guys know where I am. They want him pretty bad, so I imagine they’re scrambling to see who keeps watch. Hopefully they’ll grab him before he gets to me.”

  “No one stopped me coming in. Must still be drawing straws. Are they using you as bait?”

  “Looks like it.” She wrapped her fingers around the steaming cup to stem the telltale tremors and forced her voice to remain even. “They didn’t seem surprised when he tacked a love letter to the door of my last hiding place.”

  Mac’s lips thinned, and his dark brows lowered. “I’m staying, but I didn’t come prepared for a siege. I’ll have to
send for some things. Clothes, and you won’t have enough food stocked for both of us.”

  Suki shook her head, alarm making her heart thud dully in her chest. “I don’t want you here. I’ll manage on my own. The cops will be all over this place soon.”

  Mac took another slow sip and then set his cup on the table. “Do you have more than one bedroom in this place, or do I get the couch?”

  Suki stared. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “I heard you, all right. I just choose not to respond.”

  Though his tone was nonchalant, she heard the underlying steel. Mac wasn’t going to budge, and the thought made her tremble.

  “Put your head down.”

  “What?”

  “Put your head between your knees. You look ready to slide onto the floor.”

  “I’m not going to faint,” she muttered.

  “Look, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  “I heard you the first time.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  Mac’s lips pressed together, and his piercing eyes grew haunted. “Because I know what it’s like to be scared. You look like you haven’t really slept in days. Let me give you that—peace of mind—so you can rest.”

  “You think I can sleep with you under my roof?”

  “Sleep hugging that shotgun if you like, but I’ll be outside your door. No one’s getting past me.”

  Hope flared in her chest, and tears slid down her cheeks. Sleep. God, could she? “Just tonight then?”

  He paused; a muscle alongside his jaws flexed as he ground them together. “Tonight you’re getting some rest.”

  She blinked dully and then rose from her seat, not bothering to look back to see what he did. Tara wouldn’t send someone who would hurt her. Snatching the shotgun from the counter, she headed out of the room and down the corridor to her bedroom. Once inside the door, she locked it.

  She crawled onto the mattress, rested the shotgun on the bed beside her like a lover, and closed her eyes. No way could she rest with Mac roaming through her house, but she didn’t have the strength left to spar with him.

  For now, just lying still in the quiet room was enough. She ought to be grateful to him. He’d given her something else to obsess over.

  A tall, hard body. Brooding, implacable expression. She almost felt sorry for Manny.

  Mac stepped onto the porch, and pain sliced through his leg, hot and fierce. He sucked air between his clenched teeth in a furious hiss.

  He’d walked farther than he had the last time he’d used the treadmill at the VA hospital, and over uneven ground. The dull ache he’d complained to Suki about was a pulsing agony now.

  But he had his duffel and his cane. As he’d walked back to the cabin, leaning on it, he’d thought that maybe seeing the cane would help Suki accept that while he was “too big,” he wasn’t invulnerable.

  The look that had shattered her expression when he’d asked whether her asshole ex-boyfriend had hurt her still cut him to the bone.

  Entering her home, he tugged the door closed against the gusting wind and flipped on the outside light switch, deciding that the porch light streaming through the window would provide enough illumination for him to make his way through the house. Better to be safe and keep the interior in darkness in case prying eyes peered inside.

  He settled onto the sofa, slid sideways, and used both hands to lift his leg onto the cushion. Then he bent to rifle through his duffel for his cell phone.

  He found it, flipped it open, and hit REDIAL. As soon as music blared, he said in a loud whisper, “Tara!”

  “That you, Mac?” she shouted.

  “Get somewhere you don’t have to shout to be heard.”

  Several moments later, Tara was back. “How is she?”

  “Safe. Sleeping, I hope. She’s a wreck.”

  “Poor thing,” she replied softly. “She’s really been through it.”

  Mac rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Tell me about her.”

  “Thought you were just going to do a drive-by, make sure she was safe, and then head on your merry way.”

  He didn’t miss the amusement lacing her sultry voice. “You set me up.”

  “Sure did. Feel sucker punched?”

  “Something like that.”

  “She’s a sweet girl.”

  Sweet? He hadn’t seen that side yet. Just the sexy, wounded woman who tore at his sense of honor. “How do you know her?”

  “She worked for one of my distributors. A sales rep. Has been servicing the account for years.”

  “Why’s she special to you?”

  “You’ve met her. She’s lovely, smart.”

  “And?”

  “We’ve been to a couple of conventions together, shared a room once. Doesn’t snore.”

  He shook his head. Tara picked up strays like old ladies picked up kittens. “What do you know about the bastard stalking her?”

  “Nasty character. Smooth-talkin’ Romeo. Seduced her right off her feet, but when he started showing his ugly face, she tried to break it off. He let her know in no uncertain terms she was his until he decided to end it.”

  His hand tightened on the phone. “What did he do to her?”

  The long pause made his stomach roil. “That’s for her to tell.”

  “Tara, she won’t talk to me. I frighten her. Why don’t you just tell me why?”

  After a long pause, she sighed. “He held her down, beat her, might have done more, but she kneed him. Girl’s got gumption.”

  “Fucking bastard.”

  “Yeah, exactly. She filed a report. As soon as the cops heard the name of her assailant, DEA was all over her, wanting her to testify to add another nail to his coffin.”

  “What can I do for her the cops aren’t able to do?”

  “Care about her. Keep an eye out. They seem more eager to capture him than keep her safe.”

  He didn’t like having his suspicions confirmed. “She thought they were using her as bait.”

  “Well, now you know why she needs you.”

  Mac raked his hand through his hair. “Still think you got the wrong guy. I’m a fucking cripple.”

  Her low, easy laughter confirmed another thing—she’d chosen him deliberately. “You’re balls to the wall, McDonough. Doesn’t matter if you have to crawl to gnaw on the bastard’s shin bones, you won’t let him get her.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re manipulative as fuck?”

  “Played you well, didn’t I? Still feeling horny?”

  Mac snorted, not knowing whether to laugh or groan. “Yeah, but looks like that brand of comfort is the last thing she needs.”

  “She’s stronger than you think. And she’s never had one of the good guys taking care of her.”

  “Do me a favor: cut the matchmaking crap. I’m here. I’ll keep her safe.”

  “Get some rest yourself.”

  “You made sure that was impossible,” he growled.

  More low, sexy laughter stirred his cock.

  Mac waited for her to grow quiet. “We’re gonna need supplies if we’re here a while.”

  “I’ll take care of it. You take care of yourself, soldier boy.”

  Mac closed the phone and stared into the darkness. The thickness of his semi-aroused cock appeared to be a permanent affliction. One he’d have to suffer over the next few days because he wasn’t going anywhere. Whether he liked it or not, one set of wide brown eyes had pulled him right out of the land of the almost dead.

  When rain began pinging against the tin roof of the cabin, weariness dragged at his eyelids. Used to sleeping in catnaps anyway, he didn’t worry he wouldn’t wake up at the slightest creak of the floorboards.

  With the picture still in his head of Suki standing in the kitchen with her white-knuckled grip caressing the trigger, he closed his eyes.

  3

  Mac jerked awake, not sure what had disturbed him. Rain still fell ag
ainst the roof in a steady, soothing shower—the likely reason he’d slept so heavily. He pressed the button at the side of his watch and read the time on the illuminated dial. Only a couple of hours had passed.

  Time to make another round and check doors and windows. Just to be on the safe side.

  He grunted as he swung his leg off the sofa and stood, cautiously adding weight. The piercing ache had diminished, but stiffness remained. He grabbed his cane and hobbled to the front door and then flicked off the porch light before stepping outside.

  As he stood in the darkness, he lit a cigarette, cupping his palm around the end to hide the embers, a habit he’d picked up during his mobilization. He dragged nicotine into his lungs until the jagged edges of his hunger smoothed to a civilized scrape.

  Then he returned to the house and walked quietly through the rooms, checking windows and closets. At Suki’s bedroom door, he halted.

  Muffled murmurs came from inside. All in her voice. Was she talking in her sleep? Or using a cell phone? While the first possibility bothered him, the second couldn’t be ignored.

  He tried the door handle and discovered it was locked. Against him. Smart girl.

  He tapped softly. “Suki, are you awake?”

  The murmurs stopped. Dead silence echoed beyond the door.

  “It’s me, Mac. Are you all right?”

  The door opened, and her pale face appeared in the crack. “Did you need something?” she asked, her voice husky after being pulled from her bed.

  Not something you ask a horny man. Mac gave her a crooked smile. “Just checking doors and windows. I heard noises in here.”

  A yawn stretched her mouth. “I was dreaming.”

  “So you’re getting some sleep?”

  She nodded sleepily, a smile softening her mouth. “Didn’t think I would.”

  “Good,” he said curtly, thinking he’d better get out of the doorway quick. The smell of her sleep-warmed skin was driving him crazy.

  “What about you?” she asked, leaning against edge of the door. “Did you sleep?”

  He shrugged. “Guess I better let you get back to bed.”

  Her gaze lifted shyly to his. “Mac?”