Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6)

by Irish Winters

  He disengaged the interior dome lights and the door alarm of David’s sedan, then stowed the full backpack directly behind the passenger seat within easy reach. After one more trip back inside for a blanket and pillow, he breathed easier. Draping a bath towel over the windshield to keep the frost at bay, he glanced over his shoulder at the house. Ember better be up off her knees by now.

  Rory ventured inside, locking the back door securely behind him. She was still on the floor, but cross-legged and turned toward him. He gulped and kept his eyes on her face. Not her crotch. Darn. The girl had no inhibitions.

  “We’ll need to stock the car with a couple more weapons and plenty of ammo,” he whispered. “Bring the sawed-off for sure. We can’t be too prepared.”

  “Already did. I was just straightening up.” She rolled to her knees and stood, nodding at the softly snoring child on the couch. “That fancy dress she’s wearing is still covered in blood. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I left her in it for now, but we need to buy new clothes the first chance we get.”

  “Good idea,” he agreed. “For us, too.”

  Ember pulled at her slacks. “I hate this outfit. I look like a man.”

  He smiled at her innocent comment. He and she might dress like FBI agents—starched, stuffy, and extremely institutionalized. That alone was very un-Ember-like, but there was no way she looked like a man. It didn’t matter what she wore, she made it look good. Darn good. Voluptuous and well-endowed, she was the gold standard for her gender, even if she camouflaged it behind Goth, hippie, and weird getups.

  “You’re definitely not a man.” His big mouth answered before his brain could throw up a filter.

  She grunted indifferently and walked down the hall to the bathroom. “Whatever.”

  Four

  I need a shower.

  Ember went into the bathroom to wash her face. She deliberated one second before turning on the shower as to whether she should let Rory know her plans or not, but he’d been such an ass. Let him figure it out.

  In a second, she’d stripped out of her ugly menswear and folded it neatly on the counter. The hot water soothed the knots out of her neck and shoulders. She let it run over her head and face while the body wash swept the cares of the world down the drain. Coconut and honey, it filled her nose with calm and clean. The shampoo was as fragrant and soothing. Wow. She should’ve done this earlier.

  Today had definitely overwhelmed her. As if the shootout at the Buddhist temple wasn’t enough, she found herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with a man who didn’t trust her, and a child with spooky, blue eyes. Despite the hot shower, she shivered. There was definitely something unusual about Nima, but not in a bad way. Simply thinking about her brought an otherworldly calmness into the bathroom. How did a sleeping child do that?

  After a long, luxurious moment without stress, Ember stepped out of the shower a new woman and toweled herself dry. The hair drier purred in her hand while she finger-combed her long, layered tresses. When this operation was over, all those colorless locks were turning red. Yes, a pleasant raspberry red would definitely erase this disastrous operation from memory. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she liked what she saw. Refreshed and energized, she could handle anything, even what’s-his-name.

  Ugh. Easing back into her work clothes spoiled the upbeat mood. Day old underwear—Ewww. There had to be a decent boutique in the neighborhood. She needed to shop. Dampening a washcloth with warm water, she folded it into quarters, planning to wipe the blood off that sleeping baby’s face, arms, and hands. Maybe the dress, too.

  All the lights in the house were turned off when she opened the door. She stood stock still, letting her eyes adjust to the absence of light, her instincts on high alert. Where the hell was Rory? Why did he—

  “I’m over here by the couch,” he whispered, instantly diffusing her panic.

  She didn’t answer until she could make out his dark shape sitting on the floor in front of the couch. “Which bedroom do you want?” she asked hoarsely, not wanting him to know he’d frightened her.

  “Neither. I’m staying right here.”

  “You’re sleeping on the floor?”

  “Yes. I don’t want Nima to wake up scared during the night.”

  Ember went back to the bathroom and turned the light switch on, closing the door until the light barely showed in the hall. “There. That will make it easier for her to see in case she does.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wow. A sincere thank you. Rory sounded more like himself right now. Sitting opposite him on the edge of the easy chair, she kept her voice low. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  “Fix breakfast. Maybe run into town for new clothes. More food. Stuff like that. We don’t want to take any chances, though. We’ll stick close to the safe house most of the time.”

  “I could run into town alone. That way you and Nima—”

  “No. We stay together. Both of us with Nima. At all times.”

  “You’re right.” She acquiesced, although agents often separated to make food runs during covert ops and stakeouts. “Do you want to at least take a shower? It’s been a long day.”

  “You’re not sleepy anymore, are you?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was still being sarcastic or not, but she didn’t care. He’d been rude one too many times. “I’m sure I can manage without you,” she replied tartly.

  He stood. “Listen. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings before. I was out of line. You’ve done real good.”

  “Forget it. I’m not losing any sleep over it.”

  He crossed the living room but paused in the pale bathroom light, his hand on the knob. “It’s just that—”

  She didn’t give him a chance to explain. “I said forget it. I have.”

  Rory ran a hand through his hair. Always shiny clean, he had the blackest hair she’d ever seen. Not one strand of silver showed at his temples, and he kept it neatly trimmed. She liked the shaved skull look Zack Lennox and David Tao wore better, but Rory’s head of hair added to his movie star quality. He should’ve been a male model. He’d be one hot hunk in underwear commercials. In the deepening darkness, she could just make out the confused look on his face.

  “Tyler’s been through enough,” he muttered. “I’m overly protective where he’s concerned.”

  Ember didn’t respond to his quiet revelation. Tyler was not the rude one in the Dennison family.

  “And I don’t want Mother in my business. She’s a gossip. I’ll not have Tyler discussed by people who’ve never met him. That’s all.” He seemed to be waiting for Ember to say something. When she didn’t, he ran a hand over his head again. “I won’t be long.”

  Only after he shut the bathroom door did Ember move to the couch with Nima. Rory could apologize all he wanted. She was not ready to cozy up to him just because he decided to be nice for a change. The shower faucet turned on. Good. Maybe once he was clean, he’d feel better.

  Resting her hand in the middle of Nima’s back, she stilled to listen to the little girl’s breathing. “Wow, you’re one tired little one,” Ember whispered as she began washing Nima’s hands, arms, and face as gently as she could.

  If he intended to sleep in the living room, she would, too. It made sense to stick close together. The home seemed sturdy enough, and now that she was fed and clean, her nerves had calmed down. The night was peaceful, and the neighborhood Alex had chosen for this particular safe house seemed quiet.

  The only problem was tomorrow. The boring bodyguard detail she’d accepted had certainly turned out to be something else. With any luck, Alex would call them to come back into Alexandria. Or maybe David would find out what was happening. Whatever, there had to be a better way to protect this little girl from the men who had assassinated her father than sticking her in a safe house with two agents who didn’t care for each other.

  Ember relaxed into the comfy couch cushions. They were safe. For now. But Rory’s words tickled her mind. Tyler’s
been through enough. Enough what? He looked like every other healthy, happy little guy when she’d seen him at the gym. In fact, he was an exact replica of his father, only shorter. And nicer. What could the cute little guy have experienced at his young age that made Rory rabidly overprotective?

  And yes, Mother was a busybody and a gossip, but that was just the way she was. The minute she’d shown up to work for Alex, he and his employees had become her family. That was part of her extraordinary genius. She tended to drive away the people she loved the most.

  In a way, Rory’s need to shield his son confirmed he might be gay. The whole gender orientation thing was a big non-issue in Ember’s freethinking mind. People were people. Get over it.

  The shower door shut. That meant uppity Rory Dennison was taking a shower. Ember forgot about Tyler when a quick image of his father standing naked under the shower spray flashed through her tired brain. Gay or not, he was now in the buff. Tanned from head to toe—she suspected. Strong enough to be gentle—she wished. And not too far away. At this very minute hot water would be sluicing over his broad shoulders and down the finely chiseled six-pack of his abdomen all the way to his—

  Her cell phone vibrated at her waist. “Hey, Mother. What’s up?” she answered in a hushed voice, her ears still trained on the water dripping off Rory.

  “You’ve got two vehicles approaching your twenty,” Mother barked.

  Ember jumped to her feet. “What? Where?”

  “Just turned onto your road. They’re running dark and silent. Get out of that house. Now.”

  Ember hit the bathroom door without thinking. She pushed it open. Gasped. She closed the door. And opened it again. Oh, my. Oh, wowza. Oh, my.

  A deep voice rumbled through the steamy spray. “Did you need something?”

  She couldn’t answer with her mouth hanging open. He was everything she’d imagined, only so much hotter in person. Drenched and steaming from the hot water, he stood with both hands against the wall directly under the showerhead. All she could see was the perfect profile of—everything. His tan ended at his belt line, his butt perfectly white. No way could this guy be gay, not with a manly butt like that. Could he? The only thing marring his perfect physique was the ragged red scar left from his near death experience in Mexico last year.

  Argh! Ember jerked her entire body backward into the hall, slamming the door behind her. She shouldn’t have looked. Her heart pounded up high in her throat where it only climbed when she was scared. Or excited. Or totally amazed. Wow. How could she go back in there and face him now? How could she not?

  Assassins are on the way. For heaven’s sake. Move it.

  Gulping past her embarrassment, she pushed the door open and focused on what she needed to say instead of the glorious view. “We’ve got to move,” she croaked, her stern voice gone along with her good sense. “Now.”

  “What?” He wiped one quick hand across the fogged-up shower door. “Why?”

  She averted her eyes like she should have done in the first place. “Someone’s coming. We’ve got to run.”

  The glass door banged open and out he came, all six feet three of an angry guy in the nude, jerking the nearest towel off the rack. She couldn’t help it. She gulped and looked again. The man was ripped, his chest dusted with dark hairs that led downward to, wow, more than enough to make any woman—

  “Don’t just stand there!” Stormy blues clashed with hers. He stabbed his index finger toward the living room while he brushed the towel in one long swipe down his chest and abdomen. “Grab Nima. Go get her! Now!”

  Her brain kicked in, and her libido dropped to manageable. Almost. She hurried back to the couch and pulled the still sleeping child into her arms. Instinctively, she wrapped the burgundy blanket around Nima. “Sorry, baby girl. Hang on tight,” she soothed.

  Rory had his shoes in his hands by then. His shirt was open, but at least his zipper was up. Ember grabbed the bag she’d left by the back door, mentally reprimanding herself for noticing those very personal and attractive features about her agent in charge. Her favorite gay boy was right behind her, his wet hand hard between her shoulder blades.

  When he reached around her to open the door, a shiver skated up her arm and over her shoulders. Tendrils of steam still rose from the back of his hand and his fingers on the knob. There was no way this hot hunk could be gay, not with the equipment he had. Another shiver danced up her spine and—

  “What is wrong with you, Davis?” he hissed, his breath moist and hot in her ear. Damn, she didn’t know his lips were so close. “Don’t look back. Get in the car and stay on the floor.”

  “Got it.” She tried really hard to focus on the very urgent need at hand instead of the feel of all that muscle at her back, but the sensation wouldn’t go away. He kept bumping her backside with his hip, hurrying her along. His palm flattened in the middle of her back created an uncanny reaction all the way to her stomach. And beyond.

  It was difficult to run with rubbery legs, never mind what he was doing to the rest of her body. Their very dangerous predicament seemed to enhance her sensual response to this angry alpha male. Everything about this guy was panty-dropping hot. Wow. Now she knew why crazy people had sex in weird places like warzones and jetliners cruising at thirty-five thousand feet. She didn’t even like this guy and she was ready to take him on. Or under.

  That image didn’t help. Focus, damn it!

  At last at the car, Rory opened the back door and firmly pushed her inside and to the floor with Nima. “Hang onto that little girl,” he ordered as he slammed the door behind her.

  Sheesh. What did he think she’d do? Toss Nima out the window? He seriously needed to climb off the boss-of-the-world bandwagon he seemed to be on. With a quiet purr and no headlights, the Taurus moved smoothly across the back lawn and to the road below. The ride got bumpy while he maneuvered through and around the pine trees. A big bump and he’d gone over a curb. Another big bump.

  Ember held the little girl’s face against her shoulder, her heart pounding as she soothed, “There, there. It’s all right.”

  A tiny hand patted her cheek while Rory’s much larger and warmer hand was suddenly on her backside, groping for what, she didn’t know. “Get your hands off my butt, Dennison,” she growled so he wouldn’t know how much she appreciated it.

  “Where’s my backpack? I put it behind the passenger seat where I could reach it. What did you do with it?”

  “I had to make room for Nima and me. It’s on the back seat. What do you need?”

  “My SIG. It’s on top, and it’s loaded. Be careful.”

  His warning irked her. As weapons certification officer for The TEAM, she of all people knew how to handle a loaded weapon. Opening the bag, she handed him the pistol with expert care. “Here. Wow. You’ve got everything in here but the kitchen sink.”

  “Did you bring the extra ammo I told you to?” he asked brusquely.

  “It’s in my backpack.” Sheesh. He was starting to make her mad. Who did he think he was talking to? A civilian?

  “Hand me a couple mags.”

  Ember opened the ammo backpack and placed two .9mm mags that fit his specific weapon on his open palm. “Do you want more?”

  “Not now.”

  She resumed her crouched position, listening while he chambered a round and set the gun on the seat beside him. By the sound of the tires, they were back on pavement and moving fast.

  “Who called?”

  “Mother,” Ember replied quietly, nose to nose with Nima. The little girl seemed to be studying her, those soft baby blues taking in the geography of her face. The arch of her brows. Her nose. Her lips. Everything.

  “And?”

  “And she said two cars were on the road to our safe house. They were running silent. No headlights.” She nuzzled Nima’s cheek to break her calm scrutiny. Wow. Did nothing upset this kid?

  Rory grunted.

  “And she said to get out of the house right away.” Ember felt like she nee
ded to explain further, but he didn’t ask more questions. At last, bright streetlights flickered through the car windows. They were traveling through well-lighted residential streets.

  “Can we get off the floor yet?”

  “No. The interstate’s up ahead. I’ll tell you when—”

  WHOOSH! CRACK!

  Damn it to hell!

  An earth-shattering explosion split the night behind them. The sedan shuddered with the ensuing shockwave. Ember hunkered down around Nima, but curiosity got the best of her. She squinted out the back window at the hellish scene where the safe house had once stood. The entire neighborhood turned bright as day. Billowing orange clouds of fire launched upward with spiraling licks of black smoke. Shredded glowing debris plummeted down upon the black silhouette of tall pines while the cloud lifted higher, filling the night sky. Burning fireflies scattered on the updraft. Hell had come to Maryland.

  “Wow.” She couldn’t keep the awe out of her voice. Or the fear. They’d been inside that structure only minutes ago. What if Mother hadn’t called? What if Rory hadn’t been prepared to flee as quickly as they had? Her throat closed at all the worst-case scenarios while the tires of the Taurus squealed eastward onto the I-495 on-ramp. They were running for their lives. Again.

  She gulped, her throat dry and tight. “They... they... blew up the safe house.”

  “Ya think?” he snapped, instantly reminding her how much emotional support he was NOT. Dead silence continued for a good twenty minutes more. Finally, he turned, glancing behind her. “Sit up so we can both talk with Alex.”

  Ember placed the child on the seat and fastened the seat belt and harness around her. Nima peered up, her pale eyes glowing under the fluorescent freeway lights. She didn’t smile or speak. Ember patted her chubby little cheek and kissed her forehead. “Not a very nice way to wake up, is it?”

  “Mama?” Nima asked in a small voice. “Mama?”

  “No, baby. I’m not your mama,” Ember replied. No way am I ever going to be anybody’s mother.

  By then Rory had a rabid boss on his cell phone. “Where the hell are you?” Alex demanded.