Billy Boy responded around a mouthful of cheese and sausage. “Jeffrey and Jimmy Ray. Relax, we got it covered. Aye-Aye and me, we’ll switch ’em after we finish eating. We’re rotating round-the-clock two-man teams.”
Ayleward confirmed. “Roger that.”
Nathan pushed a chair next to Kacey, placed a slice in front of her. “You. Eat. Rebuild your strength.” He dove into his own food like a starving man. “Eat. Now. Mangia.”
His brusque orders pushed the wrong button, and Kacey’s hackles rose. “Back off, bubba. I can decide whether to eat or not.”
The ambient temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. The guys didn’t actually stop eating, but all gazes swung toward Nathan. Even Gemma stopped chewing, a mouthful of pizza stuffed in her cheeks like a chipmunk.
“You don’t take care of yourself. I’m just trying to help.”
Kacey tried to ignore the comments, knowing he was just acting like a guy. She told herself to just eat the pizza. Fuck it. Eat the pizza. She shook her head. Fuck that bullshit. He’s trying to run her life. “Why don’t you help yourself, Weatherly. Funny thing about Marine training—they like to think their people know how to survive. I think I can miss a meal or two and not croak.”
Scraping sounds indicated chairs slowly being slid away from the table, as SEALs prepared to dodge or disperse. All eyes zeroed in on Kacey, unable to look away, as they waited for a NASCAR wreck to happen.
She scanned the room, gave everyone the stare of the hairy eyeball. “Fellas, do we have an issue here?”
Conflict-hardened, battle-scarred men shook their heads, reached for more slices of pizza or cheesy garlic bread sticks, resumed eating. Cracked open water bottles. Talked about nothing. Gemma resumed chewing, so she could finally swallow.
For a guy trained in the art of survival, Nathan just wasn’t getting it. “Well, you don’t.”
After taking only one bite, Kacey carefully returned the pizza slice to her plate. “I don’t what, exactly.” Not looking at anyone, she made busy work folding the tabs of the empty, double-walled cardboard box in front of her, returning it to its former shape and condition.
He spoke around his food. “You don’t take care of yourself.”
She rose carefully, pushed the chair away with the backs of her legs, planted her hands flat on the table. “And yet, I seem to have survived this long without a chauvinistic man sticking his chauvinistic nose into my fucking life at every fucking opportunity.”
“And yet, an eleven-year-old kid drove you home.”
The air in the room ceased to circulate.
Before Nathan could react, as quick as his reflexes were, the corner of the empty pizza box she flung with the precise movement of a Japanese throwing star caught him just under the throat. A single droplet of blood immediately welled.
Everyone except Gemma jumped out of their chairs. She sat, frozen in place.
Nathan put a napkin to his neck, blotted up the blood. “You are one crazy mother…”
Cannon’s voice interceded. “Okay, let’s not go over the top here.”
Kacey tried for calm, but the snarl happened anyway. “Yeah, frogman, I am crazy, and you’d better not fucking forget it again.”
Moving stiffly, she nodded to the others by way of excusing herself from the table, then managed to get into the bedroom before the pain in her side doubled her over. She regretted being the reason for the wide-eyed look of shock in Gemma’s face, but, as far as she was concerned, Nathan had so overstepped his bounds.
I can goddamned well take care of myself, SEAL boy.
…
Nathan couldn’t help the growl. How did she manage to make him lose control? “The woman is a flamin’ bloody hazard.”
Barracuda barked out a laugh. “Just to you, squid boy, just to you. You certainly know how to light her fire, and not in a good way.”
A grumble followed the growl. “Marcus, keep your yap shut, or I’ll shut it for you.”
That brought another chuckle as Barracuda folded his huge arms across his chest, his biceps bulging. “In your dreams, Weatherly. You know I can take you, any time, any place. Don’t add to your humiliation.”
Aye-Aye added his two cents. “Yeah, bro, you might wanna hurry your ass up and be goin’ after that fireball, before she finds something sharper to throw at you—like a KA-BAR blade. I’ve seen her in action. Her aim is awesome.”
Nods of assent and murmurs of agreement made the rounds of the room.
Jack shook his head. “Man, you have a natural born talent for agitating her like nothing else I’ve ever seen. You need to fix that.”
More nodding from the crowd of over-aged frat boys backed up Cannon’s suggestion.
Gemma, momentarily forgotten, chirped in a small voice, “Will Miss Kacey be okay?”
Jack sat in Kacey’s abandoned chair, put his arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Not to worry, Gem. She’s just tired and sore. A few more days of rest to recuperate, then she’ll be fairly well back to normal.”
Billy Boy wiped pizza sauce from his mouth, then smirked. “Yeah, Nate, old son, which should be scarin’ the shit outta you.”
Sliding his combat knife out of its sheath to separate a pizza slice from another box, Jimmy Ray, who’d come in from patrolling, spoke in his soft Alabama drawl. “Bubba, y’all need to track that she-wolf to her den, before she thinks of something nastier to do. You’re not careful, boy, you’ll be wearin’ your balls like fuzzy earrings.”
The only one who seemed unusually uneasy after Kacey’s blow-up was Jeffrey, but he finally shook his head, resumed his seat.
Nate tossed the blood-spotted napkin into another empty pizza box. How had he managed to sink from squad leader to all back o’ the bus in the space of a few heartbeats?
He’d tried to help Kacey. Help her deal with the nightmares, help make the transition from hellish war to quiet peace without totally going off the reservation. To rescue the girl, Kace had volunteered to take the same risks for the same reason as the others—so why had he been stupid enough to bring up the shooting? In spite of being holed, she’d still managed to fly the girl back to safety and not crash the helo. Damn his ham-handed approach to everything. That could have been handled better by a freakin’ construction worker with a jackhammer.
Another snicker came from Barracuda. “No kiddin’, man, you’d better get after her. Unless you want me to take over.”
As much as he’d like to land a punch on the big man’s jaw, Nate knew his teammate had it right.
He kicked back his chair as he ignored the collective smirks that followed him, then threaded his way through the big bodies crowding the kitchen. One of them was even brave enough to make kissy-face noises.
The only response to knocking at Kacey’s bedroom door was, “Go away.”
She wasn’t going to make it easy. “Kace, open up. We need to talk.”
“No.”
“If you don’t let me in, I’ll bang on the door all night.”
“Bugger off. Which part of go away didn’t you understand?”
Unable to ignore the chuckles and smirks from the kitchen, he methodically pounded on her door.
After half a dozen hits, she finally opened it. “You are such an asshole.”
With a heavy sigh, he let himself in, closed the door, braced his back against it. “Why are you doing this?”
Kacey had arranged herself carefully so she could sit sidesaddle on the mattress, the leg on her injured side fairly straight, her foot on the floor. “Why am I doing what?”
“Being such a stubborn hard-ass.” And why did she insist on pushing him away?
She appeared pale again, weak, and he wanted to scoop her into his arms. When he stepped forward, her body posture stiffened. Refusing to totally retreat, he parked himself in the chair next to the bed.
“Nathan, since you arrived in Winterpine, you’ve gone all white knight on me. There’s no need. I’m a big girl, perfectly capable of caring for
myself. Family fortune or no family fortune, I’ve been independent for a long time. Money didn’t count for diddly-squat to the United States Marine Corps, so I received no favors. Our mission was a success and Gemma is safe. I appreciate your assistance when Jonah patched me up. Now, go away.”
He could feel the warmth rise to the back of his neck—it wasn’t a friendly heat. “White knight? Jesus freakin’ Christ, is that what you think is going on? You think I feel some sort of obligation? You think I feel sorry for you? That I’m acting out of pity?”
Her expression was more snarl than smirk. “Then why’d you suck up a nothing job in little town that dies between tourist seasons? You, settling in Winterpine, New Hampshire? Okay, maybe the quiet life for Jonah, to escape stitching pieces of soldiers back together like they were raggedy dolls. But you? Leave the crew, leave the guys? Somehow I don’t see you hangin’ on to your Mayberry RFD sheriff role so Big Bob MacCaffree can retire. Man, you crave the action, you jones for the rush.”
That brought him to his feet, hands fisted at his sides. He would never hurt her, but he sure as shit felt the urge to pound something into rubble. “Of all the unmitigated gall. And you don’t? I can’t believe the righteous bullshit pouring out of your mouth. You were so close to your Viper that every copilot who ever flew with you knew he was extraneous. You and your bird—the Helo Pilot of Borg. Resistance was fuckin’ futile. How long do you think you’re gonna last up here in the woods, rattling around Tara and counting the silverware?”
“That’s unfair. Give me a break. I haven’t been back long enough to decide what to do.”
“I’m unfair? Me? You’ve just jumped to conclusions about my future without even asking. It’s all right for Jonah to settle here to get away from the massacres and bloodshed, but not for me? Plus, you made the same assumption for all the guys, as well. How fair is that?”
His hands still clenched at his sides where they would do the least amount of damage, he turned to leave before frustration unleashed into vitriol. As he reached to open the door, he looked back, once last time. “I spent ten fucking years as a SEAL recon specialist, another ten years as a special ops SEAL sniper, and you, in your infinite wisdom, decide I don’t have the right, or the desire, to live in peace. To live without a bounty on my head. That’s real fucking understanding of you, Kilo Delta. Real fucking understanding. You certainly have loads of heart. Hooyah. Have a nice life.”
Controlling the urge to rip the door off its hinges, he didn’t even slam it.
…
Kacey wanted to hate him. She wanted to rant and rave and pitch a serious bitch. She wanted to throw things, break things against the door. How dare he? How dare he put her on the defensive like that? She didn’t ask for his fucking help. It was a good bet that Jonah put Nathan up to all this—maybe it was past time for her to knock some respect into the good doctor for betraying her confidences. Okay, so maybe, technically, there was no doctor-patient privilege, since he wasn’t actually her doctor—but he’d been her friend. Was. Past fucking tense.
Kacey limped over to the window, but didn’t see anyone patrolling. She knew someone was out there, watching her back, watching everyone’s back. That’s the only way they’d survived this long, by protecting each other.
The light bulb didn’t just flash on—it exploded in her head.
We survive because we have each other’s backs. Wasn’t that what Nathan had been doing? Watching her back? Looking out for her?
She settled sideways on the chair Jack Cannon had used, stunned at the level of her stupidity.
Exactly what had Nathan done to so totally piss her off? Nothing, you daft, silly bitch. He’s done nothing but be your partner and your friend. Their attraction had been immediate, upon first sight. They’d harassed and teased and provoked each other, grabbed a few minutes here and there when they could—until they’d stolen away for twenty-something precious hours to writhe, limbs entangled, in the throes of molten, volcanic sex. Remember? Remember the moment he became your lover? Remember the moment he stole your heart and refused to release it?
All emotion drained. Had she gone totally ’round the pipe? The man risked his life day in and day out for his country, now for her. He gave himself, unconditionally. And what had she given him in return? A hard time and a load of crap.
Then she chased him away.
Chapter Eleven
The bedroom door opened, then closed, but Kacey wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not. The barely-there noise dragged her from restless slumber, and she woke stiff as a day-old rabbit corpse. That’s what she got for falling asleep in the freakin’ chair. She’d spent forever trying to decide whether or not to go after Nathan, finally popped two pain pills, must have drifted off. Had that been him at the door, checking on her?
After she washed up, she was finally able to pull a pair of loose gym shorts over the bandage, then another oversized T-shirt. Sounds of activity came from the kitchen. Maybe Nathan’s already there. Maybe he got over his general pissiness. If he didn’t, she knew it was her fault. She might as well own up to it—she jumped his shit when she didn’t need to, in front of everyone. He didn’t deserve it. As much as it pained her to admit it, she needed to tell him how sorry she was.
Men moved quickly back and forth through the kitchen like they had a purpose, too quickly to be the casual breakfast crowd. She was nearly run over by large, hard bodies. “Okay, what’s up, guys?”
Barracuda entered from the great room, dressed in black as he’d been to rescue Gemma, adjusting the straps on his flak vest. “Gotta go, babycakes.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead. “Take the rug rat, get under cover in the safe room you showed us. Now.”
Kacey’s gut froze. “Marcus, what’s up?”
“No one wanted to cook breakfast, so Jimmy Ray and Jeffrey headed into town to plunder a bakery. Right after they left, Jack received an urgent message from Glennon Garrett. His GMG crew has been plugged into the scene with all his hi-tech goodies. Seems we’ve been outed, one more time.”
Breathing became difficult. After a whimper escaped, it took deep, slow breaths before she could manage real words. “You gotta be shittin’ me. How?”
“Don’t know, and don’t have time to worry about it. Word is that the girl’s holed up with a female babysitter, and a crew of mercs is on the way to complete their contract. Doesn’t make sense, since they already have ten million good reasons to disappear back into the woodwork like the cockroaches they are. Another weird thing is no one seems to know about us, just the two of you, and nothing about you being a Marine, nothing about Jack. Gotta wonder about their sloppy intel. But, it’s a bonus for the good guys—the bad guys won’t be expecting any trouble.”
“Shit, what about Jeffrey and Jimmy Ray?”
“No worries. Jack sent word, they returned tout de suite to park the truck and gear up. They’ve already gone to ground about a mile south of here. The rest of us are on our way to assume our positions—Billy Boy has the situation scoped out, and we all have our assigned stations. We’ll meet the slime balls before they can get anywhere close.”
Still in pajamas, Gemma shuffled into the kitchen, dragging her slippered feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Hey. What’s goin’ on?”
Barracuda leaned toward Gemma, laid his big hands on her shoulders. “Honey lamb, you need to get dressed, quick like a bunny. Then you stay close to Miss Kacey, all right? Do whatever she tells you, no argument, and be very, very quiet.”
The girl’s hands dropped to her sides, and her face paled. “They’re here, aren’t they? The kidnappers have come back for me.”
Kacey nodded at the big man. “Barracuda, go. I have this.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Stay safe. We’ll be fine.”
She turned, suddenly. “Wait, Marcus, where’s Nathan? Does he know?”
“Not sure, haven’t seen him since last night. Jack’s trying to find him. We thought he was with you, but I didn’t see him when I checked on you.” He might
have actually blushed, but his café au lait complexion made it difficult to tell.
Okay, Marcus at the door, not Nathan. She didn’t know whether she should feel disappointed or not. Then it hit her. “Oh shit, he doesn’t know. If anything happens to him, I’ll—”
Barracuda actually barked his response. “Kilo Delta. You have our assignment—Gemma is your responsibility. Go. Now. We’ll find Nathan. You know the drill—do your job, only your job, and don’t give us anything else to worry about.”
He winked at Gemma, then left the chalet. Kacey looked out the front windows, saw more men in black gear, face paint, and flak vests disappear into the woods on either side of the dirt drive. Gone, vanished, poof, disappeared with the stealth of wild turkeys.
“Miss Kacey?” Gemma’s face, not only pale, was tear-streaked. “I need to tell you something—”
“Sweetie, whatever it is can wait, okay? Let’s move. Get dressed, including shoes and a jacket, just in case we need to bail. I’m going to pull on more clothes, then meet in your room.”
“But—”
“Later. Now, go. Quickly!”
Kacey dove through the clothing in her chest of drawers—clothes Nathan had thoughtfully brought for her. She found black and gray camo drawstring pajama-type pants that she was able to secure above her waistline, above the bandage. A tank top under the t-shirt, cross-trainers. A gray hoodie. From her undies drawer, a Sig Sauer P226 .9 millimeter, the 15-round magazine fully loaded, plus another 15-round clip she stuffed in the pocket of her hoodie.
She hurried to Gemma’s room, found the girl just about ready. She was also dressed in dark clothing, including her own hoodie, and had tied back her long hair. Kacey nodded. “Good girl. Let’s go.”
They climbed the stairs to the loft section over the great room, the back wall of which was taken over by built-in barrister-style bookcases with horizontal glass doors.
“Gem, watch me, okay? Third shelf down on the left, take out the first book.” She guided Gemma’s hand to the back of the shelf. “Feel the latch?”
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