“Mmm.” He kissed her lightly. “And you are just too—”
“Well, that was fun to watch.” Choosing a leather chair across from them, a man sat down with a pained breath. Tall and muscular. Thick dark brown hair, much too long for the military. Sharp, dark blue eyes. After leaning his cane against the coffee table, he smiled at Jessica. “I’m Gabe MacNair. That was a strategically effective defense of your property. I wish I had someone who’d take up arms for me.”
“I don’t know if I’d consider Z my property.” More the opposite in the BDSM world, right?
“You should.” Z lifted her hand, kissed it, and turned it over to show her wedding ring. “I am yours as much as you are mine.” His finger ran over her diamond choker, the one he’d fastened around her neck on their wedding day. The symbol of her submission to him. His voice deepened to a resonant growl. “And you are mine, kitten.”
Unable to resist—she’d never been able to resist him—she kissed his cheek, his chin, and melted against him as he took her lips in a quick, but most possessive kiss.
When he let her go, she curled an arm around his neck and leaned against his chest. Face it, she loved sitting on his lap.
“Did you get enough sleep?” Z studied her face, then his gaze swept over her and his eyes narrowed. “Well, now… Stand up for a minute.”
His firm hands around her waist steadied her—damn high heels—and she stood in front of him. Blushing.
He leaned back, smiled, and made a circling motion with his finger.
As she turned slowly, the masculine appreciation in his expression made every moment of preparation worth it. “You look stunning, little one.”
“Thank you.” When she sat down—beside him this time—he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. He was so warm, and every breath brought her the light citrus scent of his aftershave.
And, oops, they weren’t alone. Blushing, she looked at Gabe. “Sorry. New dress.”
“It’s a great dress.” Gabe had a nice smile, but she could see the way he moved carefully, the tight lines of pain around his eyes.
“Are you all right? Can I get you something—alcohol? Aspirin?” She winced, realizing the question might not be the most tactful.
“I’ve been remiss,” Z said. “Jessica, this is Gabriel, one of Mako’s sons. He ran afoul of some weapons-fire and just got out of the hospital today. Gabriel, this is my wife, Jessica.”
Gabe nodded to Jessica. “Good to meet you. And I’m all right—just sore.”
Weapons-fire. What a polite way of saying someone shot him. Her stomach tightened. First Z, now Gabe. What was wrong with the world?
“I see you found your man.” Bull dropped down in one of the chairs.
“Thank you for the escort, Bull,” Z said.
“My pleasure completely.” Bull looked up and grinned at an approaching man. “And here’s Caz. Caz, this is the Jessica we wanted to meet.”
“Jessica, it’s a pleasure to meet Zachary’s wife. I’m Cazador Ramirez, another brother.” Graceful as a dancer, the other man leaned forward to shake her hand. Dark eyes, dark hair, brown skin, and a sinfully smooth voice with a touch of a Spanish accent. The man was probably deadly when it came to women.
Had Mako chosen the best-looking kids in that foster home to adopt?
“Cazador. Hi.”
Chapter Nine
Listening to his brothers talk with Grayson and his pretty wife, Gabe leaned back against the soft leather cushions of the couch and tried to ignore the growing ache in his hip and shoulder. Beer hadn’t proven nearly as effective as pain medication. But damned if he’d leave yet.
Over the evening, he’d met the people who’d come to honor Mako, heard their stories, and shared a few of his own. It’d eased the grief inside him. Some.
Telling Grayson about the ambush, losing his men, and the company’s betrayal had been an odd sort of relief. The man’s response, “If you know all this, you know that none of it was your fault,” also helped. Grayson wasn’t a green civilian. He’d been Special Forces and knew the fucked-up shit that happened in combat. He’d said it like it was.
Gabe sighed. He was a fucking mess. He needed to be alone to deal. Solitude worked for him—and Hawk, too. Caz and Bull preferred to talk. Dumbasses.
“You were going to tell us more about your shooter,” Bull said to Grayson.
“Yes, I owe you that.” As Grayson explained who the sniper was, Gabe watched the little blonde edge closer to her husband. Her face was calm, but her body language shouted that she was terrified for her man.
Gabe was pleased for him. Although a couple of serious relationships and a failed marriage had taught Gabe he wasn’t a good bet, he had to suppress a twinge of envy for someone who’d made it work. For someone who had a mate looking at him with such obvious love.
“What’s been done to catch this guy?” Gabe asked.
“The police in Tampa have a warrant out for his arrest. They—and a private investigation company—are monitoring Weiss’s family and friends in case he makes contact.” Grayson sighed. “He hasn’t used his credit cards, probably because he emptied his bank account.”
“What skills are we looking at?” Caz asked.
“His physical fitness is excellent. Expert with a rifle—he wanted into the Marine Scout Sniper program.” When Jessica shivered, Grayson pulled her onto his lap. “However, I doubt he’d have passed the psych evaluation.”
“Yeah, guess not.” Bull frowned. “He’s here now. Has the APD gotten a heads-up?”
“Yes. The police received the files as well as the latest photos,” Grayson said.
“Are you planning to just wait around and—” His gaze on Jessica’s white face, Gabe decided not to finish that question.
Grayson’s lips quirked. “No, I’m done with waiting. DeVries’s security company has three operators coming in tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll set up a trap with a limited field of fire. Since Weiss has poor impulse control, I doubt he’ll resist.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Gabe frowned. “You must have a photo of him.”
“Of course.” Grayson pulled out his cell and selected a photo. “I should have shown you this earlier, Jessica.”
Jessica accepted the phone and studied it before passing it to Gabe.
Weiss had deep-set brown eyes beneath a pronounced brow ridge, fair skin, and sandy hair in a high and tight cut. He’d stand out anywhere except on a military base. “Height and build?”
“Five eleven. Muscular, bulky build.” Grayson took the phone back.
“We’ll keep watch.” Bull smiled at Jessica whose face was still pale. “Are you two going to be in Anchorage awhile? I’d enjoy guesting you at my brewery and restaurant.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I’m not sure how long we’re staying.” When she turned those big green eyes on her husband, Gabe had to smile. He didn’t know how any man could turn her down, no matter what she asked for.
Grayson ran a finger down her cheek and smiled at Bull. “We’d love to come by. Bull’s Moose Restaurant, correct?”
Bull’s booming laugh rang through the room. “I take it the sarge mentioned it?”
“He was very proud of you.” Grayson glanced at Caz and Gabe. “Of you all. But he did mention how much he liked taste testing and helping pick which brews made the Bull’s seasonal list.”
“Did he?” Bull’s smile was wide, although his eyes had reddened.
“I thought he lived in a cabin in the middle of nowhere,” Jessica said. “How did you get beer out there?”
“Mako moved to Rescue near Kenai Lake a few years ago,” Gabe said.
Brows together, she glanced around the room, obviously confused as to why the send-off was in Anchorage, rather than Rescue.
“I’m not sure more than one or two of the townspeople ever met him,” Bull answered Jessica’s unasked question.
“That’d be about right.” Gabe snorted. “The sarge might’ve moved close to town,
but he stayed a suspicious old survivalist.”
He doubted the pretty woman had any idea how that kind of paranoia affected a man’s life—let alone the children he raised. But Grayson’s steady gaze held understanding.
The doc shook his head. “When we talked, he told me he’d hired a lawyer to put his affairs in order.”
“Surprised us, too,” Caz said. “Apparently Mako stuck in some time-contingent clause that the lawyer can’t even discuss until spring.”
“Trust the sarge to come up with some odd shit,” Gabe said. “Probably obscure directions to a weapons cache, right?”
Bull laughed. “You’re thinking of when he hid our clothes?”
Seeing Jessica’s puzzled expression, Caz explained. “We’d been skinny-dipping, and he stole our clothes and stashed them all over the forest, then handed us notes with compass directions to each spot.”
Jessica’s mouth dropped open. “A naked treasure hunt?”
“He left us our boots.” Gabe exchanged grins with his brothers.
“Gotta say,” Bull added, “being bare-ass naked and running through the wilderness to beat an approaching rainstorm has its moments.”
Grayson was suppressing a smile, but his wife looked horrified. “Oh my God, seriously? How old were you?”
Bull considered, glancing at Caz. “I remember half your curses were almost understandable, so you were speaking pretty good English by then. I guess I was about ten? Gabe would’ve been eleven.”
The outraged sputters coming from Grayson’s wife were cute.
“It’s all right, Blondie,” Gabe told her. “We managed all right. Although there was one T-shirt I never did find.”
“You knew Mako was like that, and you left little children there?” Jessica glared at her husband as if he should—and could—fix any problem in the world. Lucky bastard.
Grayson’s mouth twitched. “Although I gave him my address when we met, he didn’t reciprocate with his. I had no idea Mako had…appropriated…children until he wrote to me a year later.”
“Yeah, that was the sarge,” Caz said. “Paranoid to a fault.”
“We exchanged letters sporadically since he only checked his PO box every couple of months and not at all in the winter. Eventually, he gave me directions to the cabin.” Grayson’s gaze met Gabe’s. “I was honored by his trust.”
Feeling his eyes sting, Gabe looked away.
“He was doing what he could, Jessica,” Caz said. “I didn’t realize it at the time, not till I had counseling classes in grad school. Then I realized we’d had our own intermittent counselor.”
Gabe frowned. “What?”
“All those times he’d ask one of us to walk with him, show him something in the forest. He didn’t talk much…mostly just listened.”
Gabe frowned at Caz, then Grayson. Well, damn. That put a whole new meaning on those long walks. Of course, they hadn’t realized he was a psychologist until years later. “You were checking if we were doing all right with him, weren’t you?”
“Partly.” Grayson moved his shoulders. “You all had a rough start to life. If you’d needed more help than Mako could provide, I wanted to know. To be able to intervene.”
“Guess we passed your test.” Bull was so obviously unworried that Gabe grinned. Not much ruffled the big guy.
“I’m sure you’ve had problems to work through since then, but yes.” Grayson smiled. “Having someone in your corner, no matter the odds against you, can heal a remarkable amount of wrongs. Mako did well by you.”
Yeah, you did, Sarge. Gabe swallowed hard. Thanks.
“Well.” Bull cleared his throat. “There’s a colonel over there who asked to be introduced to you, Grayson. Sounds like a friend was discharged and is having a hard time of it.”
“Of course.” Grayson hesitated and looked down at his wife. “Will you be all right here or—”
The colonel probably wanted to talk in private, Gabe guessed. He gave Grayson a look—I’ll guard your woman before turning to her. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, Jessica? I can keep the riffraff away until your man returns.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” Her smile lit up her face.
Grayson gave him a grateful nod and followed Bull across the room.
To Gabe’s left, Caz straightened, looking across the room. “Now there’s a pretty mamacita.”
Gabe followed his gaze. At the bar, the redhead who’d flirted with Grayson was in a group of male admirers. She wasn’t a bad choice, at least for Caz who liked people, especially female people. Since he had the legendary dark Latin looks and charm, women liked him back. “Pretty, yes. But one of these days you’re going to bed the wrong female.”
“No, ’mano. I’m very careful and clear that we are only indulging in a few hours of fun. Nothing more.”
“You keep telling yourself that. Jessica, let’s go find drinks.” Bracing his hands on the couch, Gabe tried to stand. Damn hip felt as if it had frozen in place. Some guard dog he’d prove to be.
Without being asked, Caz put a hand under his arm and pulled him up.
Dammit. Gabe shot him a glare.
His brother’s attempt to smother a smile sucked. Then he added insult to injury by handing Gabe the fucking cane. Having excellent survival instincts, Caz also moved out of range.
“You’re an overprotective bastard, you know,” Gabe growled.
“Oh, Gabe, you should try being married to an overprotective bastard.” Jessica rolled her eyes.
Gabe busted out in a laugh.
“If you will excuse me,” Caz flashed a grin, “I have somewhere I need to be.” He moved away, heading straight for the redhead.
“Idiot.” Gabe turned to Jessica. “Time for alcohol.”
“Definitely.”
Limping, Gabe guided his charge to an unoccupied spot at the bar’s far end, near the back door.
He’d been gratified to find that the hotel carried his brother’s brand, and now, the bartender asked Gabe, “Another Bull’s Off-the-Road?”
“That’d be good, thanks.” Gabe looked at Jessica. “What’s your pleasure?”
“A Sprite would be wonderful.”
As the bartender moved away, Jessica looked around. “The room is clearing out. Looks like the evening is about over.”
“It was a fine send-off. Your man did—”
“Let us in!” At the double doors, a large number of inebriated young men were trying to shove past the hotel staff and deVries.
One drunk managed to get past. Another also slipped by.
Gabe chuckled. With that many bodies trying to shove past, DeVries would have to either disable or knock out the young asses to stop them—but that’d be overkill.
A few more made it through.
“Are they going to be a problem?” Jessica put her hand on his arm.
Gabe gave the intruders a quick perusal to ensure the sniper wasn’t in the group. “No, they’re too young to be Weiss. They’re probably with the academic convention going on.”
The PFD—the dividend paid to Alaska residents—had just been dispersed. He’d bet a lot of them were drinking a portion of their funds this evening.
“Right, I saw the WELCOME signs. They do look like grad students, don’t they?” She grinned as one did a victory dance across the room. “They sure act like students.”
Having made it inside, another straggler was drunkenly shouting, “Where are the strippers?”
“Outside, you dumbass, they’re outside on the deck,” another yelled.
“Woohoo, naked women. The night is looking up.”
Like a herd of caribou, the group stampeded through the private lounge to the rear of the room. Gabe pulled Jessica back to keep her from getting bumped.
At the back door, the drunks ignored the sign, flung open the door, and crowded out onto the unlit deck.
Dismayed shouts sounded.
“I don’t see any strippers.”
“There’s noth
ing out here.”
“What the fuck? That guy said there were lap dancers.”
At the door to the lobby, deVries was arguing with a hotel manager, probably demanding that security evict the trespassers.
Gabe grinned as unhappy comments continued to drift back through the open deck door. No strippers were out there—only a cold, wet night.
What a crazy evening, Jessica thought. Whatever had made the idiots think there would be strippers outside in forty-degree weather? As the first disappointed young man trudged back inside, accompanied by a gust of frigid air, she snickered. “Aw, I guess the poor guys didn’t find any naked women out there.”
“Life is full of disappointments.” Gabe paid for their drinks and grinned as more of the grumbling idiots returned. “Let’s hope the lack of easy women is their worst letdown this year.”
“Hey, here’s a woman.” One young man gave Jessica what he probably thought was an inviting leer.
Ew.
She’d learned talking to drunks rarely proved effective, so she simply turned away to face the bar. Unfortunately, sometimes even what her Regency novels termed the “cut direct” didn’t work.
Like now.
The dumbass’s voice rose. “Hey, I’m talking to you, woman.”
“No.” Gabe’s deep voice held an edge that could cut. “You’re not talking to her. Move on.”
Jessica turned far enough to see the drunk backpedaling quickly. If he’d had a tail, it would have been between his legs. “You’re very effective, Mr. MacNair.”
He inclined his head, the laugh lines beside his eyes creasing. “Good to hear, Mrs. Grayson.”
The remainder of the young drunks came inside, crowding the bar area.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this is a private party.” Z stood by the fireplace, one arm on the mantel. No anger sounded in his deep voice, just intimidating self-possession. “Please leave now.”
Without even trying to protest, the young men started trudging toward the lobby door.
Gabe’s lips quirked. “Your man is just as effective, if not more so.”
“He has a talent.” Even if not in the lifestyle, few people dared to argue with Master Z.
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