by Lora Leigh
Drack wasn’t a fast creature, but she knew where she was headed.
Pierce. Her godfather trusted him, loved him like a son. He was always extolling the warrant officer’s virtues. He hadn’t mentioned deceit and treason as any of those virtues, though.
She couldn’t just stand here, but she couldn’t look away. The anaconda was making its way across the room toward the two men struggling for the gun. Emerson was terrified the snake would go for the scent of blood rather than the scent of a weapon.
The two men were cursing, delivering hard, powerful blows even as they fought for the gun.
Emerson considered attacking Landry herself, but if he got hold of her, she knew Macey would sacrifice himself to protect her. Instead, she ran to the other side of the bed and the phone that sat at the side of it.
She glimpsed the anaconda drawing closer as she skirted the side of the bed. Had she been insane to let the creature free, despite Macey’s orders? She hadn’t even told him she loved him, she thought frantically as she reached the table and jerked the cordless phone from its base and began to dial.
It was ringing. Ringing. Emerson stared across the bed, watching as the two men struggled on the floor now. Macey was gloriously naked, Pierce was dressed in a black mission suit.
Macey straddled the other man, one hand locked on Landry’s wrist, trying to dislodge the gun as the other hand delivered a blow to his face. Landry returned with a blow to his side, throwing Macey off as he nearly lost his grip on Landry’s wrist.
They were cursing, snarling. Macey delivered another blow to Landry’s jaw. When Landry’s fist connected with his side again, Macey’s hand broke contact with his wrist.
“Answer the phone. Answer the phone,” Emerson cried out. “Oh God, where are—”
“Macey!” Her godfather’s voice yelled into the line. “Secure premises. Our mole is Landry, I repeat—”
“No shit!” Emerson screamed into the line. “Get down here. Where are you? Landry’s here.”
A shot exploded in the room. Horrified, Emerson tried to pierce the disorienting flare of light and shadows to the two men fighting. Macey had Landry’s wrist in a two-handed grip, holding the weapon, trying to turn it back on the other man as Landry’s fingers tightened on the trigger again.
Macey’s expression twisted savagely. Landry’s wrist turned until the gun was almost trained on Macey.
She was aware of her godfather screaming in her ear, an explosion from the front of the house, and the increased blare of sirens.
It happened in slow motion, and yet so fast she couldn’t make sense of it. Macey twisted Landry’s hand back just as the gun fired again. The warrant officer’s body jerked, spasmed, then Macey jumped back as Drack attacked.
It shot forward, slicing between Macey’s body and Landry’s, her mouth opening wide, teeth gleaming to clamp over the dying man’s face and twine its massive girth around his neck. Two more shots fired; the snake jerked, shuddered, but held its grip.
Voices were raised. Not her voice. Not Macey’s. He was jerking the sheet off the bed and wrapping it around her as black-suited SEALs swarmed into the room, weapons held ready, lights slicing into the room.
“Get those fucking weapons out of here!” Macey screamed.
Amazingly, the six men rushed back into the living area and returned seconds later, weaponless, their gazes locked on the still form of Warrant Officer Pierce Landry and the anaconda attached to his head.
“Shit,” Macey breathed out as he finished securing the sheet around Emerson. “Reno, hit the code on the alarms,” he yelled at the suited men. “Shut this damned noise off.”
Drack was dead and so was Pierce. Emerson could see the blood spreading out from beneath the creature and the aide’s still form.
“Fucking bastard killed my snake.” Macey’s voice was weary, resigned.
The sirens cut off abruptly, the music and lights stilled, and bright normal white light lit up the room.
Macey was behind Emerson, his arms wrapped around her, his heart racing in his chest.
“You were shot.” She tore her gaze from the death across the room as the six men stared over at her and Macey in varying degrees of shock.
The members of Durango Team were there, along with her godfather, and her godfather wasn’t looking happy.
“Lieutenant,” the admiral snapped as Emerson moved to check the crease in his side. “Are you going to live?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then find your pants, sailor. You’re not dressed.” The admiral’s tone was clearly disapproving.
“No sir, I’m not,” Macey growled, his voice, irritated, still rough from rage, cut through the room.
“Enough.” Firm, brooking no refusal, Emerson sliced her gaze back to Macey. “You need to have this seen to.”
“It’s nothing,” he snapped. But his lips were tight and discomfort darkened his eyes as he glared at the admiral.
Emerson turned back to her godfather. “If he loses rank again, you’re going to have to deal with me. Now take care of the mess in here and I’ll take care of Macey.”
She bent and jerked the jeans he had worn earlier from the floor where he had tossed them before lifting her gaze to his. He still looked ready to fight.
“In the living room.” She swallowed back the bile in her throat at the smell of death that had begun to permeate the room. “You can take care of Drack after I take care of you.”
She led Macey back to the room, aware of the glowering looks he and her godfather exchanged. She couldn’t worry about that; her godfather didn’t get along with anyone, with the exception of her.
She couldn’t worry about the consequences Macey might face in the short term. Because she had come to realize days before that her godfather had been matchmaking for years. In his own less-than-courteous way.
Macey would get over it. Because in a few short minutes Emerson had realized what mattered most to her and it wasn’t protecting her heart.
Macey owned her heart. And he’d better be serious about her owning his, or she was going to make Pierce Landry look like a walk in the park.
Macey belonged to her.
ELEVEN
THE MURDERING SCUM-SUCKING BASTARD had killed Drack. Macey still couldn’t believe it. The snake had lived through one attack, years ago, by a burglar intent on stealing Macey’s electronics.
At that time, the cave hadn’t existed, the computer setup hadn’t been as extensive, and Drack had been a full-grown anaconda. Macey had kept her locked in the computer room as an added precaution. Somehow, someone had gotten in and Drack had taken offense to a stranger in her territory. She had been very territorial.
The snake had taken six shots that had creased her hide deep enough that Macey had to take her to the vet for an extended stay. Drack had never forgotten the scent of a gun, or its consequences. And now, she had died because of one.
Snakes were unfeeling creatures, Macey knew that, but damn if he hadn’t been fond of her.
But Emerson was safe.
He looked down at her as she knelt by the couch, the first-aid kit beside him as she cleaned the wound in his side.
“You need stitches.” She pressed a thick piece of gauze against his side, then pressed her forehead to his jean-clad leg.
Wrapped in a sheet, her shoulders bare, her hair falling down her back, she was like a young goddess kneeling, beautiful and courageous.
Macey buried his hand in her hair and bent his head to hers, despite the pain in his side.
“I’m going to be fine, Em,” he promised softly against her hair. “It’s all over, baby. You’re safe. That’s all that matters to me.”
She shook her head against his leg, and he realized that tears would begin falling soon. She had been brave and strong, but she would need to crash.
He would take her out of here, take her to a hotel room in town, someplace bright and romantic, where he could lay her back in bed and hold her through the night. Let her get
used to being safe again.
“That’s not all that matters.” She lifted her head as he eased back, her expression pale and distressed, her sensual lips trembling. “I’m sorry. Macey, I’m so sorry. I should have told you …”
He laid his fingers against her lips. “You tell me later, Em. When we’re safe. Where I can hold you.”
“I love you, Macey. I’ve loved you for nearly two years. I love you so much that you terrify the hell out of me.” Her voice hitched as his arms eased around her, pulled her against his chest, and felt his heart trip in joy.
Burying his head in her hair, Macey closed his eyes, fighting back the need to run away with her and hold her until he heard those words enough to fill his soul. But he didn’t think he would ever hear it enough.
“Landry bypassed your security.” Admiral Holloran stepped into the room, his voice scathing. “Emerson, sweetheart, Reno’s getting you some clothes so you can dress upstairs …”
“There’s a bathroom under the stairs.” Macey jerked his head up and glared at the admiral. “She’s not going upstairs until I can go with her.”
“Macey …” Emerson’s voice was edged with steel. It was the same tone his mother used on his father when she thought he was getting out of hand.
“Don’t ‘Macey’ me, Em,” he told her gently. “When Reno brings your clothes out, you can dress down here. This was too close.” He touched her cheek, let his thumb run over her lips. “I came too close to losing you tonight. Don’t separate yourself from me.”
He saw the understanding in her eyes as Reno stepped from the bedroom, one of Macey’s t-shirts in his hands and a pair of Stacey’s leggings.
“Get dressed, baby,” he whispered, ignoring the admiral for now. “We’ll get out of here soon. I promise.”
She turned and gave her godfather a hard look, rose to her feet, and took the clothes Reno held out to her.
“Morganna, Raven, and Emily will be here soon to take care of her,” Reno told him. “We have a full night ahead of us, Macey. Cleaning this up with the local cops isn’t going to be easy. Your security here will be compromised further. It won’t be a secret any longer.”
Macey shook his head. He’d be damned if he cared right now.
He turned his head and watched Emerson disappear into the bathroom before turning back to the admiral.
“Respectfully, sir.” He clenched his teeth around the words. “Don’t try to take her away from me. I’ll fight it.”
Admiral Holloran’s eyes widened, his expression stern, though if he wasn’t mistaken, Macey detected a glimmer of humor in his blue eyes.
“I expect to see a ring on her finger soon,” he finally snapped. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Macey grunted at that and turned back to Reno. The ring would be there because that was where it belonged, not because the admiral ordered it.
“How did he get in?” he asked Reno. “He bypassed every safeguard I had.”
Reno glanced disapprovingly at the admiral, his expression quiet. Macey felt his stomach sink as he turned back to Holloran.
Holloran was one of the few people who knew about the cave. He and Durango team. It was a secret that shouldn’t have been uttered.
“I told Pierce about the cave.” The admiral sighed. “This one is on my shoulders, Lieutenant; I accept responsibility for it.”
He wasn’t going to say anything. He really wasn’t.
“Respectfully, sir,” he sneered. He guessed he was going to say something after all. “That’s hardly acceptable.”
Holloran’s lips pressed together in irritation. His arms crossed over his wide chest, his expression darkening.
“It worked out,” he snapped back. “I won’t be chastised by you, Lieutenant, remember that.”
“Like hell! With all due respect, Admiral, your decision sucked, endangered my woman, this team, and the operation you ordered. Chastising you is the last thing I want to do.”
He wanted to plant his fist in the other man’s jaw.
“I want to know how we managed to miss Landry when we took this terrorist cell’s leader down,” Reno said.
The question from his commander had Macey turning and drawing in a hard breath as he fought to push back his anger.
“Landry managed to stay under the radar.” The admiral sighed again. “He was a deep-cover mole. With the death of their leader, Sorrell, that particular cell lost its driving force. Landry wanted blood in retaliation. He messed up when he went after Emerson. It was only a matter of time before I figured out I had a spy in my own camp. Very few people were aware she was my goddaughter, rather than just a friend’s daughter. On my team, only Landry knew.”
And Landry would have known the admiral would figure it out after the terrorists had left the note in her apartment that they had taken his goddaughter and would kill her in retaliation for Sorrell’s death.
“Yeah. Might have all worked out great if Landry hadn’t known about my place,” Macey snapped, glaring back at the admiral as his fists clenched.
Unfortunately, the admiral’s lips twitched as that glimmer of humor returned. “Hit me and she’s going to be mad. You ever seen her mad, March? I have, son, it’s not comfortable.”
“And I nearly lost the chance to see it,” Macey fumed. “Next time you want to play patty-cake with my secrets, sir, remember this. The next time you endanger her life, you’ll deal with me. And doing mad isn’t my way. I do blood.”
“And I do a baseball bat on stubborn male skulls,” Emerson announced as she left the bathroom. “Now, can we wrap this up so I can get some real clothes on and finally get some sleep?”
She was swallowed by his t-shirt. Her legs covered in dark bronze leggings, her hair falling around her face like mussed silk, she looked like a queen to him.
She moved to Macey, gripped his arm and pulled him back. He looked down at her, his heart softening, his soul—damn if he didn’t feel his soul turning to mush at the sight of her pale face and her tired smile.
“Just hold me,” she whispered as his arms surrounded her and the sound of police sirens filtered from the open entrance outside. “Just hold me, Macey.”
He held her, ignoring the amusement in his friends’ gazes and the admiral’s scowl. He held on tight to what was his and thanked God she was safe.
His Emerson was safe and right here, in his arms, where she belonged.
EPILOGUE
THERE WERE OVER THREE hundred people at the family reunion. There were dozens of tents in every shape and size scattered around the large farmhouse. There were bunks in the upper level of the barn and every kind of barbecue grill in existence set up beneath a covered wing off the barn. The floor of the huge shelter had been set up with dozens of picnic tables of varying sizes, and huge serving tables lined the wall.
It was an organizational nightmare, and Emerson was loving every minute of it.
Macey’s parents and grandparents had welcomed her into the family with hugs and bright smiles. Brothers and sisters, cousins and aunts and uncles had all taken their turn at making her blush and hugging her fiercely.
There were so many people they could have made their own town, and their personalities, temperaments and smiles all made her feel welcome, if a little overwhelmed.
Macey was chafing at the restrictions, though. His grandparents had placed her in a small bedroom between their room and his parents’, and gave Macey strict instructions to steer clear of it after she went to bed.
The pressure was wearing on him, she thought in amusement on the third day. He’d already been in two mass brawls with too many of his cousins, and sported his bruises with pride. The lot of them were rough, ready to fight, and always good-natured after trying to break each other’s faces with powerful fists.
She’d tended his split lip, bruised ribs, and the wound that he had broken loose on his side. She watched as one of his cousins, a nurse, repaired the stitches that closed the wound while he glared in irritation over the inconvenience.
He was unlike any man she had ever known, even other SEALs. She knew why he had excelled in the SEALs now. A mission would be child’s play compared to butting heads with the other males in his family.
And she belonged to him. She might even belong with this strange, crazy family because rather than feeling like she was drowning amid them, their easy acceptance and laughing friendliness drew her in instead.
“We gotta get out of here.”
Emerson smiled as Macey’s arms surrounded her from behind and his lips moved to her neck in hungry kisses.
“Stop, Macey could catch us!” She laughed as he growled.
“Macey has already caught you.” He turned her in his arms, staring down at her, his dark eyes filled with laughter and arousal. Heavy arousal. He was a man skirting the edge of his control.
“Do you know what these shorts are doing to me?” His hands skimmed over the snug, low rise shorts, smoothing over her butt and upper thighs. “They’re making me crazy.”
But his eyes were on another portion of her anatomy. They were gazing in rapt attention at the smooth mounds of her upper breasts as they peeked from the top of her light blue cotton shirt.
Her nipples hardened instantly, pressing against the thin material of her bra and showing through the shirt. He groaned low in his chest. “We’re getting out of here.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the shadow of the house toward the four-wheelers parked at the edge of the yard. Grandmother March did not allow four-wheelers in her yard.
“Where are we going?” She laughed as he gripped her waist and set her on the back passenger rack attached to it before swinging himself onto the front.
“Away from the mob.” The smile he flashed back at her was filled with happiness, male appreciation, and more than a little lust. “A hidden place.”
He started the four-wheeler and with a shift of power they were bouncing through the field that surrounded the house amid the hoots and catcalls of his male cousins and knowing smiles from the female ones.