Shunned (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 3)

by Laura Marie Altom

  Everett used the commotion to his advantage, leaving the bar’s cover to venture closer to the man who had become his prey. Inch-by-inch, he crept along the tall, boxwood hedge. The palms of his hands still hurt from his climbing disaster, and each time they bumped against the leaves, it stung. But that was good. He needed the reminder of just how bad this situation could go. As long as Mary Margaret kept the baby quiet, there should be no issue with taking this guy down.

  Just a few more feet . . .

  The night was warm. Sweat popped out on his forehead. He wiped it with his forearm, then steadied himself for a final lunge.

  Waaaahuh . . .

  When the baby increased the volume of his cries, Everett froze.

  18

  MARY MARGARET HUGGED the infant to her chest, willing him to be quiet, but the poor thing cried loud enough to draw attention from not only the señora’s hired gun, but the young people frolicking in the pool.

  Moments earlier, she’d been shocked by their nudity, then envious of their apparent ease of their bodies.

  Now, all she could selfishly think as the whistling man rose, then casually strolled toward her, was that she didn’t want to die a virgin. Shame mixed with terror. She should fight, but how? With what? A branch?

  Her mouth went dry with terror while her heart beat uncomfortably hard.

  The man came closer, and closer . . .

  She closed her eyes. This is it. He’s going to take the baby and I’m going to die without ever having loved or even truly lived.

  Closer . . .

  The men and women in the pool were now staring.

  She couldn’t go out like this. She might be a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one. After forcing a deep breath, Mary Margaret summoned every ounce of courage to charge at the man, hoping to knock him off balance. But turns out she needn’t have bothered.

  Just as she left her cover, he collapsed face down in front of her. A knife stuck out of his back.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but then clamped her free hand over her mouth. Lord knew, the baby was doing a good enough job of drawing unwanted attention.

  Everett stepped from the shadows, kneeling to jerk the blade from the deathly still man. He wiped off the excess blood on the man’s suit sleeve.

  “¡Oye!” One of the men from the pool swam to the edge. “¿Necesita ayuda?”

  Everett started to answer, but Mary Margaret cut him off, replying in Spanish that no, the man didn’t need help, but had drank too much tequila with dinner. They were going to get his wife.

  The man smiled and nodded.

  “Quick thinking,” Everett whispered into her ear while easing his arm around her waist. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He guided her through a door at the pool’s far end, then down what felt like an endless corridor. He punched open a door marked, Salida, and they were once again outside, only this time onto a bustling street.

  The contrast from hearing only the baby crying and the pounding of her own heart and running footfalls hit her like a slap. All of the sudden there was frenetic Latin music with a throbbing base. Blinding headlights and angry red taillights.

  Everett flagged a cab, helped her and the baby into the backseat, handed the driver a card with an address, and then joined her before closing the door.

  The sedan’s windows were down, and the air smelled of exhaust and too many different foods. She felt sticky with sweat and afraid. But then Everett took her free hand, easing his fingers between hers.

  “You did good back there. Real good.”

  “I was so scared.” The words fell from her in a gush.

  “Me, too.” He raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the back. A thrill shivered through her. Suddenly, she wasn’t so much scared, as exhilarated. They made a great team. Did he think so, too?

  “I didn’t think anything scared you.”

  He snorted, then skimmed the back of the still huffing baby’s head. “When Baby Joe cried, and I saw that thug getting closer to the two of you, I literally thought my heart would beat out of my chest.”

  “Oh?” She licked her lips. A man had died back there, but she didn’t care. He could very well have been one of the men who’d killed her parents. She had no pity for him. Let those who lived by the sword, die by the sword.

  “I guess until just then, I didn’t realize how much you two have come to mean. You’re growing on me.”

  “Thank you.” She was glad for the darkness, so he couldn’t see her blush. “I feel the same—I mean, you’re a good friend.” Had she imagined it, or when she’d said friend, had he frowned?

  Didn’t he want that? Or did she dare hope that even in the short time they’d known one another, like her, he craved an indecipherable something more?

  “It’s not much,” Everett said upon closing the door behind them in the safe house. “But it’s clean, and no one should bother us.”

  “What about supplies for the baby?” Mary Margaret’s gaze darted about the spare space. It was a studio apartment on the fourth floor of an unremarkable walk-up. The only furniture was a bed, sofa, and table for the efficiency kitchen. Heavy drapes were drawn on four windows. Faint light shown from beyond the cracked door of what she assumed was a bathroom.

  A window air conditioner unit hummed.

  She shivered from the sudden chill.

  “There should be plenty. I called ahead to have my associates stock the place with diapers and food and other baby stuff. There are also clothes for both of us, and a few snacks.”

  “You thought of everything.”

  “It’s no biggie.” He shrugged. “Just part of the job.”

  As it had back at their hotel, the thought of sharing the same room with him while they both slept felt wicked, as if she were caught by Sister Agnes, she’d be punished with weeks of extra kitchen duty. In the same breath, she wanted to be with him—not just for tonight, but always. Even in the most chaotic of times, he made her feel safe. That safety had become like a drug. She needed him. And considering the fact that as soon as they dropped the baby with his parents, they’d most likely never see each other again, that need was a problem.

  He asked, “Want me to watch the baby while you grab a quick shower? All the excitement left me feeling sticky. I’ll take one after you.”

  Two washings in one day? That kind of water usage was positively decadent, but she wasn’t complaining.

  She smiled and agreed.

  He opened a closet and took a small suitcase from the floor. He set it on the sofa, unzipping it to show her silky PJs, slippers, and an assortment of light cotton clothes, shoes, and lacy pastel undergarments.

  She gathered what she’d need, then darted off to the shower.

  Beneath the hot spray, she tried pretending Everett wasn’t just beyond the closed bathroom door. At the convent, her nakedness had always been a source of shame, but tonight, in the pool, those young women had seemed to celebrate the beauty of their nude bodies.

  If Everett saw her, would he find her lacking?

  At the moment of what she’d believed to be her certain death, the one thing she’d been most sorry about was dying a virgin. In hindsight, such a thought had been beyond sinful, but why? Why shouldn’t she want to use her body in the way God had intended? As long as she loved the man she gave herself to, she failed to see the problem.

  Does that mean I love Everett?

  She pressed her hands to flaming cheeks that had turned hotter than the water. Maybe she did love him. And if this was to be the first and last night she ever spent with him, then she selfishly wanted more of their relationship. She wanted to know him in every way a woman could. She’d ask for forgiveness later, but now, with her pulse pounding harder than it ever had when faced by the señora’s men, Mary Margaret turned off the taps, dried herself, then wrapped the towel around her before eking open the door.

  She saw Everett stretched across the sofa.

  The room was dark save for the flicker of a news
broadcast playing on TV.

  Baby Joe had curled onto his tummy in the crib.

  Now that she’d started her crazy plan, Mary Margaret wasn’t so sure this was a bright idea. What if Everett turned her down? How would she even know if she was doing this right?

  She stepped forward. The floor creaked.

  Everett glanced up, then did a double take. “Did, your, ah pajamas not fit?”

  “I don’t know.” A low hum settled between the vee of her legs. Beneath her towel, she was naked. In her whole life, she’d never committed a bigger sin, yet she’d also never wanted to add to her already lengthy list of indiscretions.

  “Well, shouldn’t you put them on?”

  For an instant, she closed her eyes, then exhaled, dropping her towel to stand before him fully exposed, fully ready for him to make her a woman.

  “Lord . . .” He shifted his legs. “Mary Margaret, what are you—”

  She crossed to him, not thinking, just doing. Acting on pure, base instinct, she straddled him, pressing her lips to his the way she’d seen in movies back when her parents had still been alive. But to her horror, instead of kissing her back, he clamped his hands around her shoulders, pushing her away.

  “You have to stop,” he said, “otherwise, I won’t be able to.”

  “I don’t want you to.” She tried kissing him again, and this time, he not only let her, but joined her by upping her ante with a shockingly thrilling sweep of his tongue. She tentatively joined him thrust for thrust, mewing in pleasure, but then he was again pushing her away.

  19

  “WE HAVE TO stop,” Everett said. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I do.” Mary Margaret needed him more than her next breath.

  “How? How could you possibly know?” He released a sharp exhale. “You’re a child inside. Hell, that was probably your first kiss.”

  “It was. But that’s okay. It was perfect.” She bowed her head. You’re perfect.

  “No.” With his breathing ragged, he bowed his forehead to touch hers. “You deserve more. I can’t just deflower a former nun in a shitty apartment.”

  “You can if I beg you to. And I am—begging. We don’t know what the next five minutes will bring, let alone tomorrow. In such a short time, Everett, you’ve changed everything. You’ve changed me in every possible way. Give me this last gift.”

  “You’re sure?” Framing her cheeks with his big hands, he pushed her face back far enough for her to meet his gaze. “Because if you’re not—”

  She escaped his hold to kiss him.

  He groaned, once again stroking her tongue, thrilling her with raw pleasurable sensation that turned her tummy topsy-turvy. When he stopped for air, he said in a ragged voice. “If we’re doing this, we’re at least using the bed.”

  “O-okay.” She was beyond the point of caring.

  He tenderly shifted her off of him, and then was standing, taking her hand to lead her across the room. After using the remote to mute the TV, he drew back the bedspread and top sheet before scooping her into his arms and settling her ever-so gently atop the mattress. He made her feel safe—precious—like a rare, treasured jewel.

  After losing his shirt, he unbuttoned his fly. Even by the TV’s flickering light, his chest was a human work of art. Chiseled with washboard abs that her curious fingers longed to touch. His pants were next to go, and when he wore only boxers, a nervous giggle escaped her. His, his—well, his penis, for lack of a fancier term, was enormous! Straining at the thin cotton fabric.

  “Think this is funny?” he pointed in that general direction. “You’re killing me.”

  “Sorry?” She laughed again, but once he joined her on the bed, there was nothing funny about the way her muscles tightened when he pressed his honed body against her soft curves. He was kissing her again, and she forgot how to breathe, to think, to do anything other than abandon herself to the sort of earthly pleasure she’d never expected.

  She gasped when he cupped his hands over her aching breasts. His rough palms grazed her nipples, and then he inched lower, taking one into his mouth, laving it with his hot tongue.

  Tears of indescribable pleasure sprung to her eyes.

  What should she do with her hands?

  “May I touch you?” she asked.

  “Hell, yeah . . . Wherever you want.”

  She bravely skimmed her fingers along his shoulders, and then biceps. Aside from the most clinical manner, she’d never touched a man. His skin felt so good—rougher than hers, yet warm and hard where his muscles bulged.

  He’d moved his kisses lower, down her abdomen to her belly button.

  A wholly foreign, yet welcome humming sensation between her legs instinctively had her bucking. She felt curiously empty, as if a part of her was missing, but only Everett knew the secret to making her whole.

  He’d moved between her legs, kissing her mound.

  When he urged her legs apart, she was glad for the dark so he couldn’t see her blush. Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her . . . There. Oh, yes . . . He was shocking her, thrilling her, flicking the tip of his tongue until she was crying out and losing all control. White hot light burst behind her closed eyes. What was happening? She literally couldn’t breathe.

  The madness began anew when Everett shifted, rising high enough to kiss her lips, while lower, he slipped his finger inside her, introducing yet another shockingly new pleasure. He tasted of her, which made this madness all the more sinful. Yet, how could anything that felt this good be wrong?

  She clung to him, riding his finger, longing for an elusive something more.

  “I think you’re ready,” he said. “But since this is your first time, I’m not going to lie—for a minute it’s going to hurt. But then I promise to make everything a whole lot better. Trust me?”

  Nodding, she kissed her consent.

  “I’m going to grab a condom from my wallet.”

  A condom? The word sounded as foreign as the rest of the night had become. Of course, she knew what one was, but again, her chaste brain couldn’t quite keep up with the evening’s events.

  He was back, hovering over her, kissing her and kissing her until she felt dizzy drunk on pleasure.

  “Ready?” he asked. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “Please . . .” Desperate for him, she thrashed her head from side to side, pressing her fingertips into his back.

  He entered her slow at first. There was an achy pressure, and then he plunged deeper. She cried out in pain, but then as he’d promised, Everett established a slow and easy rhythm and the pain gave way to heady pleasure. Over and over he plunged. Higher and higher together they climbed.

  He kissed her and held her and made her feel deliriously happy.

  Higher and higher she climbed an invisible hill, wondering, praying how she’d ever manage to summit. But then Everett stiffened and the white hot light returned and her entire body felt as if she were glowing.

  “Lord . . .” he said in a raspy tone.

  She was again giggling, but this time from sheer joy. “Thank you. That was beautiful.”

  He stroked her cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

  He’d seemed on the verge of saying more, but didn’t. Did he regret what they’d just done? The mere thought welled tears in her eyes.

  “We should probably shower and then get some shut-eye.”

  “Probably . . .” But surely that couldn’t be all? Wasn’t this the time when he was supposed to hold her late into the night, whispering sweet nothings? Had she done something wrong? She’d taken, but not given. Was he disappointed?

  Embarrassment consumed her, replacing her happy glow with shame.

  Glad for the room’s dim light, she hugged her pillow for modesty, then escaped to the privacy of a hot shower. She not only needed time to shed more than a few tears, but to process what she and Everett had shared.

  With Mary Margaret ensconced in the shower, sobbing loud enough for him to hear, Ever
ett had never felt like more of an ass.

  He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

  What have I done?

  A bullet would feel better than the crushing confusion in his chest. During her impassioned speech, Mary Margaret hadn’t mentioned anything that led him to believe she was looking for more than answers to her physical curiosities, but he should have known better. He had known better. He should have given her a chaste kiss, then lectured her on the benefits of abstinence.

  Ha! Like you’ve ever turned down a game of blanket bingo.

  But the problem he should have seen coming was that to Mary Margaret, what they’d shared had been anything but a game. To a woman who’d been a freakin’ nun a mere day earlier, what they’d shared had been far more than sex. Because of his stupid speech at dinner, she’d no doubt had visions of forever. Marriage. A dog and white picket fence. Babies and Fourth of July picnics followed by fireworks over a scenic lake. She’d want the total package—she deserved the total package. But that wasn’t anything he was qualified to give, right? At least not for a while. He’d thought she understood, but then the latest bad guy had shown up and the night had only grown more disastrous from there.

  He emitted another groan, leaving the bed to find a tissue for the condom.

  After settling for a paper towel from the kitchenette, Everett disposed of the physical mess, but couldn’t quite wrap his head around how to best proceed with Mary Margaret. He thought the world of her. It was inconceivable how much he’d grown to admire her and enjoy her company in such a short time.

  On the flip side—

  The bathroom door creaked open.

  She emerged, thankfully wearing chaste white cotton PJs that his associates had stashed hours earlier. Shopping for her, fingering the fabrics that would touch her skin, seemed like another lifetime. Then, he hadn’t yet gained firsthand knowledge of the fact that her supple curves felt far softer than anything manmade.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  “Thanks.”