The SEAL's Promise (Safehouse Security)

by Grace Alexander

  "What's so different now?"

  "This!"

  His beautiful smile came back as though he found amusement in her confusion.

  "Before." She tossed out her arms. "Every moment was adrenaline-driven. Our interactions were simply…" Her brain wracked for answers. "Just reactions."

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes! No feelings. No emotions." Oh, who was she kidding? The unexplainable happened. Why was she questioning their chemistry?

  "You are smart. Beautiful. So interesting that I can't seem to stay away." He closed their distance and cupped her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin, sending a sparkling trickle of awareness down her neck. "I just want to know what you're scared of."

  His words tried to melt her barriers, and her reason and emotions waged war for dominance. "Please don't make me explain myself."

  "Why, baby?"

  Oh, she couldn't take his scrutiny anymore. The truth. That was the only way to protect herself. "Because I'm going to get hurt."

  His caressing fingers stilled, and her embarrassment roared to life. No, why did she tell the truth? This was why she fought him—and any situation that would make her vulnerable to feelings. Drake made her more honest than she should be. More than she knew was possible.

  "I'm not going to hurt you, Tessa."

  Tears burned her eyelids, humiliation sapping her strength away. "Of course you will. You won't mean to, but I'll be hurt just the same."

  "Oh, Tessa." He closed his eyes, and as pitying as he sounded, there was a distinct edge of possessiveness. His palm fell away as he backed. "I'll enjoy proving you wrong."

  Tessa longed to stay close. "Wait."

  His laser-focused gaze narrowed.

  "Can you, just for a minute…" She took a deep breath, staring at the floor and then the ceiling before returning to the intense broodiness facing her. "Can you stand next to me?"

  What a stupid question! But she hated how far away he was. Even if it were mere feet. Drake didn't say a word as he closed their distance. He could've pushed her like he'd been doing, forcing her to think and understand feelings and emotions she didn't want to. But he didn't. It was as if the Lord had told him now was the time to be quiet, and he folded her into his arms again.

  Her eyes slipped shut, and she melted to him. The steady beat of his heart was a rhythmic lull, and Tessa nuzzled her cheek to his chest.

  Trusting him, asking for him to be close, that kind of vulnerability and need was liberating. He was liberating.

  Even when he pushed, Drake let her say what she wanted without worry of recourse. Their hug went far beyond the act of comfort. It tugged her away from the bricks in her sky-high walls. The longer she stayed against him, the more the wall tumbled.

  They stood there, not moving for what seemed like hours. Then, Drake shifted and rubbed her back. She was jelly. If he hadn't held her upright, maybe sensing her complete fulfillment, she'd have melted into the floor.

  "Thank you," she whispered against his shoulder.

  His chest shook with a silent chuckle. "None needed."

  She smiled at him, a tiny laugh escaping as they stepped apart. "I'm exhausted. More than exhausted, really. Are you tired?"

  "We could stay here?" He threw his hands up. "Don't take that in any other way—"

  "I won't." Because she trusted him.

  "Because we could keep driving if you wanted us to head home."

  Tessa shook her head; explaining what she wanted made her more confident of herself. That kind of bravery felt terrific.

  Drake didn't respond.

  Oh no. Maybe her bravery had been foolish. What did he think she meant? Wanted? There was only one bed! Tessa pinched her eyes closed, embarrassed. Why did she confess her secrets to him? That wasn't smart. No. It was flat out stupid. How could she have alluded to—

  "Come on, doll." He scooped her towel-covered body into his arms. "Dry sheets will be so much better than the crappy-assed towels. Warm-up under the covers."

  "Wait!" Tessa did her best to keep her backside covered even though he seemed not to notice the threat to her modesty.

  Drake threw back the comforter and laid her down. Before Tessa could crawl through the rough fabric to the far side of the bed, he sat on the edge, back facing her, then tore off his shirt. Her eyes bugged, stomach flipped, and she didn't have the words to question his actions while she tried not to gawk at the sinewy muscles. He tossed the shirt over his shoulder. It landed beside her.

  "Not the cleanest thing, but maybe it'll serve as something to sleep in instead of a damp towel." He stretched and yawned.

  Flushed, Tessa tore herself from eyeballing his back then grabbed the shirt. It held his scent along with a shower-fresh smell of soap. She pulled it over her head and wriggled under the covers to remove the towel. When she'd finished changing, she burrowed into the bed. "Thank you."

  He nodded, not looking her way. "I'm gonna grab this pillow. Okay?"

  "Of course." She pushed it toward him. "Where are you going to sleep?"

  He glanced at the tiny couch. "Over there."

  Tessa wanted to offer half of the bed. The idea of his warm body being near hers was enough to make her soul shake. But she rolled her lips together. "Are you sure? I'd fit better on that thing."

  He chuckled. "Trust me, doll. I've slept in far worse places."

  Drake stood, and she let her eyes trail down his back. Then Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the covers to her chin.

  He tossed the pillow at one end of the small couch, switched off the lights, and plopped down, legs hanging over the edge. "Goodnight, Tessa."

  "Goodnight, Drake."

  Minutes ticked by. She couldn't sleep and wondered if he had drifted away. She tried not to move. The room seemed too quiet. Every move echoed loudly.

  "What's the matter?" he asked.

  "Nothing," she said too quickly.

  An uncomfortable tension hung in the dark motel room. It didn't matter if she squeezed her eyes shut or stared at the ceiling.

  Drake repositioned the pillow. "Then why are you still awake?"

  Tessa bit her lip. "Maybe my mind's still calming down."

  He grunted in some kind of understanding or approval, then added, "Get some shut-eye."

  He was always looking out for her, and she grinned. "Nothing you've done tonight is what I thought you were going to do."

  Drake flipped his pillow with a low rumbling chuckle. "Welcome to the club."

  Tessa turned onto her side, facing the couch. Her mind was exhausted, and he was a puzzle she couldn't figure out. "What does that mean?"

  "Trust me when I tell you, you haven't done a single thing I expected either."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  McKay was more than aware of Tessa curled around a pillow, wearing his t-shirt on the bed a few feet away. He was more than aware of her melodic breaths and the occasional quiet snore that played wrecking ball to his thoughts.

  She was charming and beautiful, though guarded and continuously searching for a reason not to trust him. She offered excuses and was a pro at changing the subject, but he didn't fall for that. When he'd had his arms around her, there was trust. Chemistry. A connection that he couldn't explain that made him stare at the ceiling all night and wonder if there was a higher power calling the shots on this assignment.

  Warmth continued to roll through him even though she had long since fallen asleep. His chaotic thoughts made his lizard brain want to call the shots, and his jaw was clamped together so tight he should have a headache.

  Tess was a gift he couldn't have. There wasn't any room in his life for a meaningful relationship. Driving back to Virginia was the only option he should've taken. But then he wouldn't be able to sleep in the same room and dream about what it might be like to hold her close as they fell asleep.

  This night could only serve as a memory to reminiscence over when the days on the job were brutally dark, and he needed to believe in survival.

  Morning arri
ved, and McKay awoke to the quiet sounds of Tessa slipping into the bathroom, tiptoeing like she didn't want to wake him. Before the door closed, he stole a quick glance of her swallowed by his shirt. That would be another memory he'd store away for when the going got tough and he needed to remember good people existed.

  A few minutes later, she re-appeared in her clothing from the night before. She carefully folded his shirt and padded quietly to place it at the end table by the couch. Though he had his eyes closed, he knew she lingered a second longer than necessary, and McKay wondered what thoughts were spilling through her head.

  When she turned, he stretched and acted as though she hadn't awakened him earlier. "Morning, doll."

  Tessa perched on the side of the bed, fidgeting. "Good morning."

  He folded himself off the couch, caught off guard by the distant coldness in her words. "Give me a minute, and we'll hit the road."

  She didn't speak, and he wondered if his tiptoeing girl had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

  The drive to Virginia wasn't that long of a haul, but behind the wheel, McKay felt as though every mile was another hour. Daybreak turned into harsh afternoon glare, bearing down at him through the windshield.

  Other than a sideways glance, Tessa had all but disconnected herself from him like he was a plague-infected pariah. He was ready to pop red smoke and call in for an extraction team. What did I do wrong?

  He eyed the oversized fuel and food signs passing on the highway. "Coffee?"

  "No."

  "You're still not hungry?" he pressed.

  "Not really."

  She was distracted, disengaged, and detached and more focused on the passing scenery and overhead road signs than any friendly gesture that he lobbed at her. He could've sung Broadway tunes a cappella, and she wouldn't have noticed.

  Great. He didn't know the first thing about a platonic morning after. And, as by evidence of her withdrawal from him, he didn't always ace everything he tried. So much for thinking he was a stud.

  What did it matter if the woman didn't live for his every thought? So what if she wasn't hungry? What did he even want from her anyway? A doe-eyed good morning? Well, he didn't get that. Only a curt good morning, and a very matter of fact re-dressing in her dirty, torn clothes.

  The ripped shirt made him chuckle. She'd done quite a job piecing that shirt back in place. If she hadn't been so formal, teetering around like a proper schoolmarm, he might have told her so.

  "I did something wrong?"

  She shrugged and shook her head, giving him a resounding yes-but-I-won't-tell.

  "Are you going to tell me what I did?"

  "You didn't do anything."

  He scrubbed his hand over his face, hating that he even asked. Or cared. "Yet, here we are. Monosyllabic answers and the silent treatment."

  She didn't respond.

  "I didn't peg you as the type to play games, Tessa." He paused, waiting for any sign of life. "But, it's interesting to see your glacial attitude has returned."

  He exited the highway, and the relief of almost arriving at his home was the only thing that made the last miles bearable.

  "Nothing is wrong. I'm just tired," she finally offered but picked at her fingernail like her life depended on it.

  "I don't believe you, but you can fess up to me later or tell me why you're ignoring me. Either way, you'll tell me."

  She didn't say anything. Her hands were crossed in her lap, and if he didn't know any better, she was a tight squeeze away from white-knuckled.

  McKay let her ignore him. It gave him time to plan his afternoon with Safehouse. They had a ton of stuff to hash out, starting with the cipher and ending with Tessa's sweet butt no longer being in the line of danger.

  He barreled down the familiar roads, tapping the steering wheel. Her safety was paramount, and there was nothing they could do to protect her without engaging the enemy. They needed to cut the head off the beast, not deal with the amateur teams that kept up their mediocre attacks.

  He cleared his throat. "You've got about five seconds, Tessa, to fess up. Three. Two. One. All right, we'll talk later."

  The car slowed, and they pulled up to a brick fenced property with a wrought iron gate. Old, thick trees lined the property, and a green canopy was draped over the driveway. It was nice to be home with her, but the part with her struck him as odd since she hadn't strung a sentence together consisting of more than three words in as many hours.

  "Wait a minute." Tessa's jaw hung open. "When you said home, did you mean estate?"

  "I like my privacy, and it's safe."

  "This place looks like it should be in the movies."

  It would've been a lie if he denied the masculine pride coursing through him at her reaction. She was impressed, and, for the first time when it came to a woman, he cared.

  "You can make yourself comfortable while I meet with the team for a while. I promise you, there's nowhere safer. And my mom will whip up a mean meal. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes. The works. You can meet Anna." He snuck a glance at Tessa. Open up a little, would you? He shook his head. Now he sounded needy. Awesome. He cleared his throat. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine. Let's do what needs to happen so I can get back to my life. Please."

  A pang of pity sliced through him. Didn't she realize that her life would never be the same for the simple fact that she'd been kidnapped? She was a trained psychologist and should know that. But, he guessed, book smarts and reality were separate. He understood that, having lived through the heavy, dark burden his job saddled him with. Drake didn't wish upon her in the least. "I'll get it figured out."

  McKay rolled up to the front of the white colonial house. His mom opened the door with a baby on her hip, waving the young child's arm. She was mouthing hellos for Anna toward the car, but the baby looked more interested in tearing her silver-haired bun out of place.

  He caught Tessa cringing, and her hands ran the length of her thighs. "Oh no, Drake. This is a bad idea. Horrible. I don't even have shoes on. What is your mother going to think? I've worn these clothes for days. I can't let her see me like this. I can't let anyone see me like this."

  "Well, you can't hide in the car. And she won't care. She probably won't even notice."

  "Of course she'll notice. I'm not wearing shoes. My shirt is basically scotch-taped together. Anyone would notice."

  "This is the most you've said since you woke up hours ago."

  A flush crossed her cheeks. All he wanted was for her to lean into him. That wasn't too much to ask.

  Then again, maybe she was leaning on her training and had compartmentalized their night. Other than the blush on her face and neck, Tessa didn't seem the least interested in him. It was infuriating.

  Unable to hold back, his hand glanced off her pink cheek with a caress. Something he was getting much better at since they'd met. She was so soft.

  Finally, he took her hand, squeezed it, then got out of the car. He kissed his mom on the cheek and swept the baby into his arms, holding her up over his head. Anna giggled and kicked in excitement. Her blonde curls and smile warmed his heart every time.

  He heard Tessa walk up behind him. Her bare feet shuffled on a few loose stones on the driveway, her arms wrapped across her stomach.

  "Mom, this is Tessa. Tessa, my mom." McKay made the introductions, momentarily ignoring both women and focusing on Anna. It'd been far too long since he held her. It was an automatic reaction; he held the baby, and the world sank away. His eyes slipped shut, and he drank in Anna's hug, her clean scent of shampoo and baby powder.

  After a long hug, he saw his mother extend her hand to Tessa, confusion and surprise on her face. Funny how similar the expression was to when he knocked on his mom's door, baby in tow.

  "Tessa, nice to meet you. You can call me Edith."

  Edith flashed an inquisitive eye at her son, having never met any client or woman in his life before. Most certainly not at his house with his daughter. A flush heated his face, imperceptib
le to anyone but his mother. He wasn't a mama's boy. Never had been. But their relationship had changed to friend-like, or even mentor-mentee, after he arrived on her doorstep, holding a baby two-handed like she was a nuclear bomb, and kicking along the bag of diapers Child Protective Services gave him.

  He had been terrified. And his mother, bless her heart, didn't call him on it. She simply started to help. She could diaper a baby like nobody's business, showing him that while it seemed duct tape was the only way a diaper would stay secure, the tabs on the side did just fine.

  She knew Safehouse Security skirted the edge of legal. She knew that he was in danger each time he left for a job. He told her as much. But he'd made some significant changes after Anna arrived. Decisions were now made on more than mission-critical information. He had to base them on a baby. He had to get home to Anna at the end of each op. He had to establish routines and schedules. And he had to plan for a babysitter. It was comical. Shopping for formula and smashed peas while wearing tactical gear was quite possibly his latest favorite pastime. The looks he got were nothing short of alarmed. If he were feeling particularly in need of a laugh, he'd smear on camouflage face paint.

  Nothing in his life had been stable until Anna came along. And even now, stable was a stretch. But for Anna's sake, he did what he could to provide her a settled home. And his mother was his saving grace.

  She didn't appear to notice Tessa's bare feet or tattered clothes. But, oh, he knew better. She was discreet. That was for sure. The woman didn't miss a beat. Lord only knew what she thought, and he was certain to hear about it later. Would she go the interrogation route, or infiltrate behind enemy lines, asking Tessa subtle questions?

  Maybe he should have placed a warning phone call. Right now, that was a blinding flash of obviousness. Too late. He hadn't wanted to do that in front of Tessa, and after everything that happened the last time he left Tessa alone to call home, he sure wasn't going to do that again.

  With the baby on his hip, McKay watched Tessa stand next to his mother. His mom's head tilted a degree sideways. One eyebrow raised slight enough so that only he noticed. It was a warning sign of the impending Q & A session.