Down Range (Mills & Boon M&B) (Shadow Warriors - Book 2)

by Lindsay McKenna

  They’d welcomed him. Jake felt their sincerity and gratitude for what he’d done to bring them into the loop when Morgan had been wounded. As they took him on the tour, Jake admired the four-thousand-square-foot, two-story cedar cabin sitting in the woods, surrounded by Douglas fir, outside of Gunnison. He held Morgan’s hand as Cathy invited them through the kitchen and onto a huge sundeck outside the sliding glass door.

  There was a redwood picnic table at one end and a number of chairs scattered around the deck. It overlooked a small pond that Jim Boland had landscaped and created. The place was peaceful, and Jake could feel himself letting down and relaxing. They stood along the railing, and Cathy told him how Morgan, when she was small, would go down to the pond and try to catch the frogs living among the cattails. He liked hearing about Morgan’s growing-up years, the home at nine thousand feet, deep in the Rocky mountains.

  “We’re going to serve some iced tea, beer and snacks in a bit,” Cathy told them.

  Jake nodded and felt Morgan tug at his hand. He looked down into her pensive face, thinking about her as a rambunctious, curious child running free out in the mountains. It helped him understand her roots. And clearly, the deep affection and connection Morgan had with her parents was special. He’d never had it with his father and began to understand the depth of his loss in his own childhood.

  “Come on,” Morgan whispered. “There’s someone else you need to meet.”

  Puzzled, he smiled and said, “Sure.” Jake excused himself with her parents and followed Morgan through the kitchen and into the foyer. She seemed nervous. Why? He could feel the dampness in her hand. When they reached the stairs, he knew Morgan would have problems climbing them because of her leg wound.

  “Want me to carry you up the stairs?” he asked, grinning. Jake sensed she was anxious, which was unlike her, and he wanted to put her at ease.

  “No. This is going to be slow,” Morgan warned him. Placing her right hand on the banister rail, she used the cane to steady her left leg. “My PT guys have been challenging me on stairs for a while. I’ll make it. Just stay behind me? Stay on my six?”

  He grinned. “I like being behind you.” He saw her blush as she glanced back at him.

  “You promised to be good while you’re here, Ramsey.”

  Chuckling, Jake said, “I’m black ops, babe. There’s going to be places and times when I can touch you when no one else is looking.”

  Morgan shook her head, taking the shining cedar steps one at a time. “This is going to be like climbing a mountain,” she warned him.

  Jake slid his hand gently around her waist, wanting to give her more support. “It’s kind of like our life story, isn’t it? We’ve had a long, slow climb to reach the top?”

  Morgan stopped halfway up, feeling twinges of pain in her leg from the exertion and needing to rest for a moment. Jake stood on the same stair, his hand never leaving her waist, his expression wry. “You’re right. Great symbol, these stairs. But it also says something else about us, Jake. We never quit loving one another no matter what kind of hurdles were thrown in our way, either.”

  He leaned over, caressing Morgan’s lips, inhaling her sweet scent that was only her. She was relaxed here at home, not all buttoned-up and professional. In her purple tee and white summer slacks, she didn’t look like an officer in the Marine Corps. She looked like a young, beautiful woman on the verge of flowering to him. Jake slid his fingers through her loose red hair, feeling the silky strength of the strands. Jake kissed her again, this time more slowly. As he eased away, holding her darkening green eyes, he rasped, “Life isn’t easy, babe. It won’t ever be.” Caressing her cheek, he added, “Having someone at my side makes it a helluva lot easier, though.”

  “It does,” Morgan said, her voice strained. “Come on. Six more stairs with me?”

  “I should carry you.”

  “Not a chance, Ramsey. If you fall with me, you’ll set my leg back by months.”

  He snorted. “Like I’d drop you?”

  Morgan laughed a little nervously and made it to the second floor. “You’ve never dropped me.”

  Standing with her, Jake slid his hand across her shoulders, feeling the dampness on her skin, understanding how the stairs had challenged her fragile, healing body. “I didn’t drop you coming out of that wadi. If there was anywhere it could have happened, it would have been there.” He felt such a fierce love for her. They’d gone through so damn much together. Jake looked around. There were four doors along the polished cedar hall. “Where are we going?”

  Morgan walked ahead, her hand settling on a brass doorknob. “In here.” There was nervousness in her eyes, although he didn’t understand why. Jake entered the room after Morgan. He closed the door behind him and turned around.

  “I want you to meet Emma,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

  Jake saw a little girl sitting at her small desk in the corner, coloring madly away with her crayons.

  When Emma heard the door close, she gasped, dropped the crayons and screamed, “Mommy!” She launched herself off the chair like a Harrier jump jet taking off from the deck of a Navy carrier.

  Jake stood back, feeling powerful emotions sweep through him. He stood awkwardly, watching Emma fly into her mother’s open arms. Morgan had knelt, smiling broadly, taking her daughter’s full weight. Emma was dressed in a pink tee and bright red coveralls and had white shoes on her tiny feet. He stared down at her; it was as if a bomb went off next to him. Emma had black hair, huge gray eyes and a square face.

  Jake’s mouth went dry, and his chest tightened. His heart began a slow pound as he stared disbelievingly down at the child. Swallowing against a forming lump, Jake recalled Afghanistan over two years ago. His condom had broken. Jesus. Emma was his daughter!

  He could see Morgan’s mouth and nose in Emma’s face, but there was no question of his genetic stamp upon this young, joyful little girl. His heart swelled powerfully with love for both of them.

  Morgan released her daughter and gestured for Jake to come over and kneel down beside her. She saw the shock and realization in Jake’s eyes. He’d put it all together, that Emma was his daughter. And then he hesitated, as if he was worried he’d say or do the wrong thing with his daughter. More than anything, Morgan saw love shining in his eyes for Emma. But would Jake ever forgive her? He had a right to be angry at her, too. She knew there would be long, intense talks alone, out of earshot of Emma. She had a lot of forgiveness to ask from Jake, too.

  “Mommy, who’s this?” Emma asked, thrusting her index finger toward Jake.

  Keeping her hand around her daughter’s tiny waist, Morgan smiled brokenly. Her voice grew hoarse with emotion. “Emma, I want you to meet your daddy.”

  Jake reached out, touching Morgan’s hair, trying to communicate silently to her that everything was all right. He got Emma was his. He saw tears and anxiety in her eyes, as if she was scared he wouldn’t accept Emma. Or that he was angry at what she did to him. Jake couldn’t talk right now, not in front of the little girl. He leaned over and kissed Morgan’s brow.

  “She’s beautiful, just like you,” Jake whispered unsteadily, holding her gaze, watching her understand he wasn’t angry with her. He knew why Morgan had protected Emma from him. So many damned mistakes and misunderstandings between them had forced her into this decision. Jake felt his heart tear over their jaded past with one another.

  “She’s yours,” Morgan offered unsteadily.

  He smiled a little, emotions running wild within his chest. His voice was low with emotion, and he smiled slightly. “Yeah, it’s a little obvious, isn’t it?”

  Morgan nodded. “Just a little, Ramsey.”

  “It’s okay, Morgan. Everything’s going to be okay.” Jake leaned over, kissing her brow, trying to ease the worry from her green eyes. “We’ll talk this out later,” he promised her gently.

  Relief shearing through her, Morgan swallowed hard, wanting to cry but knowing she couldn’t. Not right now. “
Yes…later…” She turned her attention to curious Emma.

  Jake watched his daughter studying him, a scowl on her little face, those huge gray eyes amazingly intelligent, missing nothing. Emma was so small and thin. And he was so damned tall. Maybe threatening-looking to such a little child. Kneeling, Jake rested his damp hands on his thighs, absorbing Emma’s inquisitive expression as she tilted her face and studied him some more.

  “Your daddy has been gone for a long time,” Morgan told her daughter. “But he’s finally been able to come home to us, Punkin’….”

  Jake smiled at his daughter. “Emma? I’ve been waiting for a long time to meet you. To hold you.” His voice was rough-sounding because he fought back tears that wanted to come. Jake was afraid Emma would reject him. He opened his arms to her. “Can we say hello?”

  Emma frowned and then looked up at her mother. “Why was Daddy gone so long, Mommy?”

  Morgan moved her hand gently through her daughter’s loose, black hair. It shone like a raven’s wing, the very same color as Jake’s military-short hair. “Your daddy is a very brave man, Emma. He’s been away in another country.” Morgan took Jake’s hand and turned it over. “Look, do you see all these scars, Emma? Your daddy got those fighting in that war.”

  Emma was fascinated. She boldly moved forward, placing her little hand on Jake’s hairy, darkly sunburned lower arm. Tracing the five scars she saw with her finger, she looked up at Jake.

  “Do they hurt?”

  Jake couldn’t speak. His throat tightened. His daughter’s gently tracing each scar disassembled him emotionally. She’d been so careful as she’d moved her tiny finger across each one. “Not anymore,” he promised Emma, a catch in his voice. His daughter seemed so concerned. Jake knew he couldn’t just reach out and grab Emma and hold her. He wasn’t sure how Emma would react to him, but it was important that she make the first move toward him, not the other way around. Jake needed her to trust him.

  Placing her finger into her bow-shaped mouth, Emma studied the scars as he patiently held his arm out toward her. She looked over at her mother. “Mommy, was Daddy in the same country you went to?”

  Morgan nodded. “He was, Punkin’.”

  “And you got to see him?”

  “A few times,” she told her daughter, caressing her small shoulder. “He was gone a lot, Emma. Like me.”

  “You missed him, too?”

  “Oh,” Morgan said, laughing softly, “very much,” and she shared a tender glance with Jake. He looked like a fish out of water. Unsure. Hesitant. Maybe afraid to make a mistake with Emma. Morgan wanted to tell him children were amazingly resilient and that he would make mistakes. But love between a parent and child would always smooth them over.

  Emma leaned against her mother’s right knee, studying Jake in the gathering silence.

  Jake was sweating. His heart was pounding with fear of being rejected. Emma was just as readable as Morgan. She left nothing to question, and he managed a slight smile down at his daughter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come home sooner, Emma. I wanted to,” he told her. His mind fled back to that Christmas in Afghanistan and those three miraculous days he’d spent with Morgan, renewing their heated connection. Those three days had been incredible, and they’d created Emma as a result. Jake studied Emma’s scrunched-up face, and the corners of his mouth curved. Their loving one another in that desolate, desert country, with threat all around them, had produced this beautiful little girl. Jake absorbed her curious look, watching as she seriously chewed on her finger.

  And then Emma pulled her finger out of her mouth and boldly marched forward, straight at him. She reached up with her thin arms, fearlessly met his eyes and said, “Daddy, I missed you….”

  Jake slowly closed his arms around his daughter, feeling her warmth, her vital force of life that sent his heart reeling with relief and love. He was so large against her smallness, her arms unable to span his torso. Emma laid her head on his belly, trying to squeeze him with all her child’s strength. Closing his eyes, Jake felt tears burning behind his lids. He gent­ly curved his hand around Emma, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hair, which smelled like apple shampoo.

  His heart spun with shock and joy; that this tiny creature would accept him just like that blew Jake away. Morgan gave him a reassuring look that spoke volumes. Emma, despite her age, almost three, was very old and wise, far more mature than her years as he’d just discovered.

  Morgan slowly stood, smiling unevenly, trying to choke back a sob. It was so touching to watch them hug, and she pressed her fingers against her lips, trying not to make a sound. She didn’t want this powerful moment to be broken. Morgan watched with joy as Emma pulled back, placed her little hands against his face, leaned up and smacked a sloppy kiss on his jaw.

  “Goodness,” Jake said happily, seeing affection in Emma’s eyes. He felt as if he were staring at a reflection of himself. His daughter was unafraid, and he grinned as he gently scooped her up into his arms, settling her against his chest. Her small arms twined around his neck, and Emma sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

  Giving Morgan a glance, Jake saw tears running down her cheeks. Hot tears slid down his face, too. He was crying out of relief. Out of loss. Out of missing so much with the two women who were now permanently a part of his life. Emma nestled more deeply against his neck, closed her eyes, a content look on her innocent face.

  His love overwhelmed him in the best possible way as he stood there, his daughter in his arms. Jake drew Morgan forward, sliding his arm around the woman who had carried his child in her body, kissing her for a long, long time.

  Jake stood with his arm around Morgan’s waist. Moonlight silently filtered through the curtains in Emma’s room. She lay asleep in her bed, holding her favorite teddy bear, Boo, in her arms. They’d quietly come in to check on her before going to bed, and Jake found himself unable to leave. All he wanted to do was stare at the little tyke and absorb her into his heart. Emma had insisted he read her a story before she went to bed. Jake saw Morgan’s spunk in her, the child knowing what she wanted and being fearless about asking for it. Jake had spent a half hour reading to his daughter, watching her eyes slowly droop closed, her arm around that old, almost-hairless teddy bear. He’d tucked her in, kissed her brow and quietly left.

  “I think Emma is completely taken with you,” Morgan whispered to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

  Jake nodded, unable to speak. Much earlier, he’d taken Emma downstairs with Morgan, and they had all sat out on the sundeck with chips and beer. Emma didn’t want to leave his side, stuck like glue to him, and Jake had found himself close to tears a number of times.

  Jim and Cathy Boland appeared just as deeply touched. It was as if Emma had known he was her father, and she wasn’t about to let him go. Probably for fear he’d disappear from her life again. So, she’d sat on his thigh, munching Fritos while he’d drunk his beer and talked with Morgan and her parents like the family they really were.

  Jake took a deep breath and smiled down at Morgan. “You’ve got to be exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

  Nodding, Morgan turned and led him out of his daughter’s room, and they walked down the hall to their bedroom. They each took a shower, after which Jake climbed into bed with her. Morgan wore a pale pink silk nightgown. Jake wore nothing. He saw the exhaustion in her eyes, understanding the stress the day had brought her. He leaned against the headboard and gathered her into his arms.

  Morgan sighed, nuzzling against his jaw, feeling relief and contentment. It was nearly midnight, the moonlight spilling in through the curtains, the window open to allow the pine-laden air to circulate within the room.

  She slid her fingers lightly across his deeply bruised chest. “Are you upset with me for not telling you about Emma?”

  Jake captured Morgan’s hand, placing his over it. “No,” he said, kissing her hair. “When I saw Emma, I got it. I thought I was looking at myself for a moment.” Jake slid his hand down her
arm, her skin like velvet beneath his fingertips. “I understood why you didn’t tell me, babe.”

  “Until yesterday,” Morgan said, muffled by his neck, “I didn’t know the whole story, Jake. I feel so bad. I kept her away from you for two years. I’m so sorry, Jake. I can barely live with myself for doing this to you.”

  He drew in a ragged breath, embracing her gently with both arms. “You were protecting Emma. You thought I’d appear and disappear in her life just like I had in yours. You wanted stability for Emma, not to be torn up emotionally all the time. I don’t disagree with the decision you made, Morgan. And I sure as hell don’t want you feeling guilty about it. All right?” Jake eased her away just enough to look down into her moist eyes. “I mean it,” he emphasized. “We’re both at fault in this. Emma survived just fine under your decision. She had your parents to give her the steadiness she needed in her little life. No harm, no foul, babe. We need to be looking at the present and what we’re doing together in the future with her. Not chewing up the past again. It’s done. It’s gone. We can’t go back and fix it or change it.”

  Morgan closed her eyes, her voice tremulous. “I was so afraid, Jake. I had terrible visions of you leaving me and Emma, not accepting Emma as your daughter….”

  Jake sighed and tucked her against him. “Silly woman. You can handle combat, but you can’t trust me enough to know I’d see Emma and know without a doubt she’s mine? And that I wouldn’t put it together?” Jake touched her cheek, feeling the dampness of her tears. “Morgan, you nearly died. And it’s been hell coming out of it. You’re more emotional than usual and that’s to be expected. I would never walk away from you and Emma. The only way that’d happen is if I were dead.”

  “I get it, Ramsey. I really do,” Morgan muttered, wiping her eyes. “I feel like an emotional basket case on some days,” she admitted softly. “I can’t even blame my hormones this time around.”