Jameson (In the Company of Snipers Book 22)

by Irish Winters

  Talk about a hero.

  It was close to twenty-four-hours since she and Jameson had made love at the safe house. The night before that, she’d rescued Mr. Vlad, then survived a gunfight with Pops Delaney’s guys, when she’d gone back inside the farmhouse intent on rescuing Jameson. Turned out, he’d rescued her in more ways than he could ever know. She was light years beyond simple exhaustion, but what a couple of busy days. Thankfully, the press hadn’t cornered her yet. She hoped they never did. Her life story was dull compared to Jameson Tenney’s.

  Because, right on schedule, as usual, Maddie doubted herself again. She’d made a huge mistake going alone to Boston, but she’d done it with the purest intentions. Only, she hadn’t. Not entirely, had she? She’d done it to save Jameson, but she’d also gone rogue, as Jameson had accused her of doing, mostly to prove her dad wrong.

  Good grief, there seemed no way to close that long chapter in her life and move on without dragging her dad’s abuse behind her every step of the way. Everywhere she went, there he was. The moment she’d thought she’d finally left him behind, she devolved back into the weakling she’d been under his thumb. With every tentative step she’d taken on that dock, her dad had been in her head, criticizing, name-calling, and berating.

  It had to end. She just didn’t know how to exorcise the vicious voice in her head that had always put her down. Why did people do that? Demean their children and call them names they’d remember for the rest of their lives? It was so hurtful.

  “Hey, you,” Jameson purred as he squeezed her fingers. “You’re thinking too hard. I can tell.”

  She swallowed, then admitted, “I’m not cut out to be an agent.”

  “Yes, you are.” He winced as he pulled himself up higher on the already tilted bed. “You’re brave and you’re honest. You care about people and you’re willing to learn.”

  He made it sound simple.

  Maddie adjusted his pillow so he’d be more comfortable. He was a handsome disheveled mess with his dark hair mussed, and a full day’s worth of scruff shadowing his chin and jaw and down his neck. He’d lost his glasses during the showdown on the docks, and the day would never come that he’d be able to gaze longingly into her eyes, like romance heroes did with their damsels in distress. Their Cinderellas or their Sleeping Beauties. Their princesses.

  Yet Jameson had always looked straight into her since they’d met. And he called her babe. Maybe that didn’t count to all the overconfident business women in the world. Maybe they took it as an insult. But to Maddie, the way Jameson said babe was a one-eighty change from the names she’d heard all her life. When he cocked his head, she knew he was truly listening, not just waiting for her to shut up so he could talk, or talking over her. He got her just the way she was. Kind of broken, but trying so gosh darned hard to be the strong woman she wanted to be. She knew he cared. That he truly loved her. Crazy man wanted to marry her after knowing her for just one day. Who did that?

  Apparently, former Navy SEALs.

  “I went rogue,” she reminded him. “I split when I should’ve stayed. I make trouble wherever I go.”

  “Bullshit!” Alex snapped as he flung the cubicle curtain aside and stalked to the foot of the bed. “Heard you've always wanted to be a Marine, Junior Agent.”

  She nearly snapped to attention. Junior Agent? “Yes, I did. I mean, I do. But I’m not a—”

  “Junior Agent? Yes, you are. I can’t recruit you into the Corps, but I can give you the next best thing. My TEAM. My rules.”

  Her head bobbed so hard, her back teeth were grinding.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Y-y-yes,” she answered accordingly. But her throat was dry. She squeaked instead of sounding confident. And she’d done it again. She’d said what she’d thought Alex wanted to hear. Not anymore. “I mean, err, n-n-no.”

  “Breathe,” Jameson murmured, squeezing her fingers again. “You’ve got this, babe.”

  He was right. Her dad had been cruel and heartless. But Jameson was always on her side, and she could do this. She could stand up for herself. It was time.

  With a deep breath, Maddie smiled, then laughed as she embraced the darnedest feeling of being free at last. She grabbed Alex’s hand and told him, “Thanks, Boss, but I don’t want to be a junior agent. I don’t have nerves of steel, and I don’t want to ever smell tear gas again or get shot at or have to kill anyone. I’d rather just be your Protocol Officer and take care of you. That all by itself sounds pretentious enough, me being any kind of officer. I’ve never served my country like you guys have, but I like working with you and for you. I like supporting the warfighter behind the wings, and I love everyone in this brave company of snipers. Can’t I just be who I already am? That’s all I want. To serve you and your guys. Your TEAM.”

  He had the nerve to smile like he’d already known everything she was going to tell him. “Everyone who marries into, or is a part of, a military family serves,” he said extra gently. “Husbands, wives, children, and friends. Hell, even pets. Combat is never about what lies ahead, Maddie. It’s always about the people we leave behind. What’s this I hear about a loan shark?”

  How embarrassing. “Yes, my ex… he left and…” What else was there to say? Good grief, she’d made a lot of bad choices in her life.

  “Stop worrying. Those lucky bastards were inside the Black Rose when it blew. They won't be bothering you again. You’ve also got a new picture window, courtesy of Adam and Walker. A clean living room, too. Take a week off. Come back refreshed and ready to work. You’re needed here, Maddie. Sure hope you know that.”

  Jameson had taken possession of her entire hand, and he was squeezing it, letting her know he was there for her. Like he had been since this scary, exhilarating, crazy operation began.

  “Deal?” Alex asked.

  “Deal. Thank you.”

  “And you…” He turned on Jameson. “You’re quite an asset to my TEAM. Mark tells me you’re an expert in Krav Maga.”

  “I’m a student,” Jameson clarified, his head cocked as if he were trying to figure Alex out.

  Good luck with that.

  “You took Delaney’s top assassins out inside that farmhouse. I’d say that makes you more than just a student.”

  The sexiest blush crept up Jameson’s neck and spread over his cheeks. He cleared his throat, then said, “I’ve learned a lot since the incident. And yes, studying Krav Maga has opened doors for me.”

  “I see that,” Alex murmured with something akin to respect. “You’ve earned a week off. Be in my office the following Monday. Until then...” Alex tossed the curtain aside and stalked out.

  Jameson still had Maddie’s hand curled inside of his. He lifted her knuckles to his lips and asked, “Did you hear what he said about everyone who marries into military families?”

  “I did,” she whispered, remembering his proposal. But she’d been married before. It hadn’t been much different than living under her dad’s thumb, well, except for the sex part. Even that she could’ve lived without. Until Jameson kissed her. He was different, more giving than taking. He tasted good and he smelled like heaven, even now when they were both grimy and sweat-stained. She’d orgasmed for the first time ever in his arms. She wanted to do that again. Did she dare believe she could ever be good enough for a man of his caliber?

  “Are we going to your place or mine?”

  Sucking in a trembling breath, she told him, “Yours, please.” To your bed, into your heart, anywhere… with you.

  He closed his eyes, a dreamy smile on his lips. “Good answer. Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  There was something good and right when a man brought the woman he planned to marry, home to his apartment, no matter how humble the place was. Didn’t matter that she’d already said no, and that she needed more time. Jameson was no quitter.

  It was well after midnight by the time The TEAM’s helicopter had touched down
at Reagan National, after flying in from Boston. Mark and Harley both had someone waiting for them, probably their wives. Jameson ordered an Uber driver. But Alex and his father stayed onboard. Guess he lived near the Shenandoahs and flew back and forth by TEAM chopper every day. As Jameson’s mom would’ve said had she been there, “Well, la-di-da, aren’t we fancy?”

  “Uh, Jameson?” Maddie asked from the doorway to his humble abode, where she’d come to a full stop instead of entering.

  “Yes?” He was still holding her hand, waiting for her to join him. Hoping the apartment wasn’t too spartan or messy. He’d been rushed and focused on his upcoming interview the last time he’d been home. But along with his blindness had also come a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Most of the time he put things precisely where they belonged. His place couldn’t look too bad. What didn’t she like?

  “Umm, lights?”

  Oh, that. Smiling to himself, he flicked the switch on the wall and instant—nothing. But he was used to the dark. “I don’t buy many lightbulbs. Did it come on? Can you see better now?”

  “Wow. Very nice,” she said as she stepped across the threshold and into his tidy world. “Who’s your decorator?”

  “Mom. Sometimes Dad.” Jameson closed the door and locked it. “They come up from Williamsburg at least once a month to check on me. I do okay on necessities, but Mom’s the interior decorator. She made sure the walls aren’t bare, and that my towels are all the same color. Dad’s a professor at William and Mary. I’m their only child, so they can be a little overprotective.”

  “He’s a professor? Really?”

  Founded by King William III and Queen Mary II of England in 1693, William and Mary was one of the oldest universities in the United States, second only to Harvard.

  “Sure. He teaches American History. It’s no big deal. You’ll like him.”

  “My dad owns a bar.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jameson asked as he made his way into his kitchen. “Where?”

  “Brentwood. Crabby Rocks, that’s the name of it. Don’t guess you’ve ever been there. Me either. It’s a rough neighborhood.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee maybe? A beer?” he asked, not wanting her to dwell on comparisons that didn’t matter. “That’s all I’ve got unless you want ice water.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Maddie was at his elbow by then, hip-checking him. “I’ll get drinks and fix us something to eat. You’re the one with stitches. Go sit down.”

  “Works for me,” Jameson breathed as he granted her control of his kitchen.

  The sofa was a welcome relief after one helluva nerve racking operation. He tipped his head back and let the weariness of one damned long day ease out of him. His first two days working for Alex had left him bone-tired, and whatever the ER doc used to deaden the stitching had worn the last of his defenses down. He didn’t want to zone out before Maddie made it back into his arms. But he was fading fast.

  “You never mention your mother.” He made that quiet statement, there in his oyster shell of a bachelor’s apartment, where the only feminine touches until tonight, were his mom’s. She’d always been there for him.

  “That’s because she deserted me when I was three. I have no memory of her.”

  “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t imagine growing up without a mom. What kind of woman deserted her only daughter? “What’s your dad’s name?”

  “Rick. Richard Bannister.” By the sound of cupboards and drawers opening coming from his kitchen, Maddie was doing more than just filling two glasses of water.

  “And your mother’s?”

  “Christina, only it’s spelled K-r-y-s-t-y-n-a.”

  “Who was she before she married?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Are you going to look her up?” Maddie snorted. “I don’t even know if she’s still alive. Don’t know if I care.”

  “Why would you say something like that?”

  A glass or bottle landed a little too loudly on the kitchen counter. “Because if she were, or if she’d ever cared, she would’ve reached out to me. Don’t you think?”

  Jameson made a mental note to look into Krystyna Bannister. “Never mind, babe. It’s none of my business. What are you fixing?”

  “A midnight snack,” she piped up, her voice even now that he’d dropped the subject. “Ham-and-cheese sandwiches. Want yours toasted?”

  “I’m a guy. Whatever you want to fix, I’ll eat,” he replied as the delicious aromas drifted into the living room. Wasn’t that the most heavenly smell? The woman he loved making a meal for the two of them? A homemade meal. Not fast food or take-out.

  Jameson didn’t mean to fall asleep. But suddenly he was waking up, and Maddie was murmuring somewhere over the top of him, “Hey, you. I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?”

  “Sure.” Guess he’d missed that midnight snack. Knew he needed a shower. Wanted to jump her bones in the worst way. But…

  The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back in his bed, undressed down to his boxers, with the loveliest smelling body snuggled under his arm. Maddie’s freshly showered, damp head rested on his chest, and her sweet breath was in his face.

  “I’m tired,” she told him. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

  Thank God. Jameson closed his eyes and let the drama of the last forty-eight plus hours fade.

  Sometime later, he woke with a start, blinking at the welcome warmth of Maddie in his bed. She’d stayed. Man, she smelled good. Squeaky clean and feminine. Sound asleep under his arm. Her hand on his chest.

  Jameson eased out of his boxers. Once they were on the floor, he skimmed one hand down her back and found her seductively naked beneath the sheet. Despite the tenderness in his side where he’d been wounded, everything inside of him sprang to attention. Jameson turned his forehead to hers. With his free hand, he cupped her cheek, then threaded his fingers into her long, lush hair. She’d showered, smelled like his shampoo and body wash. Somehow his spicy scent on her stoked the fire in his gut to an urgent crescendo of raw, animalistic need.

  Tipping forward, he pressed a fervent kiss to the tip of her pert nose, then let his fingers and thumb roam over her face, mapping the fine contours of her brows, the smooth satin expanse of her forehead, and the exquisite luxury of her plush lips. A pronounced philtrum, the sexy eye-catching indentation between the end of her nose and her upper lip, drew the two peaks of that lip into a perfect cupid bow. So damned dainty and delicate. Made a man wonder what she saw in an animal like him. He was just some guy. She was so much better.

  Maddie moaned in her sleep at his careful exploration. Closing his eyes, he brushed a kiss over her lips, needing her to wake up, yet understanding if she didn’t. He could wait. A lesser man might’ve taken what she wasn’t yet ready to relinquish while she slept, might’ve taken advantage of her while she was vulnerable. Not Jameson. Petting was one thing, but the art of making love required two hearts beating as one. Never coercion. Whatever Maddie needed or wanted, he would do. When she was ready. When she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  Her lips parted with a sigh, so he teased her chin and mouth with tiny nibbles and licks and tastes, his body primed and his heart opened wide. “Babe,” he breathed into her. “Did I wake you?” Sorry, not sorry.

  “Hmm,” she murmured, rolling flat onto her back. “I was dreaming about you. About us.”

  “Good dreams?”

  “Oh, yesss…” she purred. “Very good dreams.”

  Jameson changed positions, sliding over her body, his hard angles against her soft curves, his manhood pressed hot and heavy on her belly. His knees between her thighs. Gently, he commenced peppering her chin and throat with kisses and suckles, then drifted to her collarbones and the warm hollow where they joined. He nuzzled his way down between her breasts, then swallowed the diamond hard nipple that begged for his mouth. Everything about her was enticing as hell.

  Maddie combed her fingers thro
ugh his hair. Her back arched off the mattress. She was turned on, the heady fragrance of her arousal a rich perfume in his nose that arrowed straight to his groin. He palmed her other breast, babying the lovely thing, pinching her nipple until she growled the sweet sexy rumbling purr of a woman on the verge of release. Pressing her breasts together, he feasted on both tender points while his cock rested at the cusp of heaven.

  But there Jameson stopped, arching his hips back just enough, not wanting this coming over too quickly.

  When he backed off, Maddie’s growl turned more needy, more feral. Her hands fluttered down his ribs, then over his ass, where she took two firm handfuls and forced him back to her. Thrilled, he went willingly. The instant she grabbed hold, her touch and the warmth of her fingers, nearly sent him over the edge.

  “I love you so much, babe,” he murmured, wanting her to feel the depth of his heart before he sank into the warmth of her body.

  “Then stop playing around,” she whimpered. “I’m dying here.”

  “Copy that,” he grunted, thrusting his hips forward into warm sweet heaven on earth.

  “Yesss,” she cried, spreading herself wide. She hooked both heels around his waist, granting him more access, giving more of herself. Giving everything.

  And he was lost in humility, that a woman like Maddie was willing to risk her heart on him. A blind man.

  A wicked, blessed fire took control. Their hands were all over each other. She writhed like a temptress beneath him, her fingernails dug into his shoulders like the sweetest grappling hooks.

  He took control of her hips. Honestly, what man needed urging at this point? Taking her mouth, he made love to her tonsils until they were both panting with their imminent releases. More, he urged his body, his knees alongside her hips for steady leverage, constant power. Give her everything. His heart pounded through his head and every last muscled fiber in his ass until.... His spine curved, hammering home. Finally… home.