by Rescue Me
The dark vehicle blended in with the shadows of hulking semis and eased out of the warehouse district and into the stream of traffic bordering it. The headlights came on then, and she wondered if it was okay to breathe yet.
She glanced over at Macey, aware that he was watching the traffic with narrow-eyed intent, his weapon held low against his thigh, his hand still pressing her shoulders against the soft leather seat, keeping her hidden from view.
“Could you pull my skirt down? It’s riding up.” There was a demon imp that came out every time she came in contact with the huge, taciturn SEAL. She couldn’t help it. Needling him was her favorite sport.
A large, broad hand smoothed her skirt from high on her thigh back to her knees. And he did it … slowly. As though he were savoring the act. She sure as hell was. She stared up at him in the darkness, aware of the fact that he was apparently unaffected.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” She shifted her legs against his. “Next time I get kidnapped, remind me to wear panties.”
His expression tightened, as did the hand on her knee. “Don’t fuck with me right now.”
“I’m fully dressed, Lieutenant, so ‘fucking’ with you is the least of your worries at the moment.”
He smiled a slow, predatory smile.
“If you don’t shut that smart mouth of yours, I’ll have to shut it for you.”
“How are you going to do that?” she whispered back. Excitement churned inside her as he leaned over her, bringing his face closer, his lips so much closer, making her mouth water.
“By cutting out your tongue. I’ll blame it on the terrorists.”
She sighed with dejection. “Damn. There goes that tongue ring I was going to invest in.”
A rough chuckle sounded from the driver as Macey’s eyes narrowed in contemplation.
“Give me trouble, Em, and you’ll regret it.”
“Give me lip, Macey, and I’ll bite it.” She snapped her teeth back at him and was rewarded with a flare of lust in his gaze. Unfortunately, the lust came with more than she expected. It came with a wolf’s grin and a knowing smirk.
“Be careful, Emerson, because I’ve been known to bite back.”
TWO
EMERSON JENNIFER DELANEY WAS shaking. At least on the inside. She’d be damned if she would let Macey, the big, tough, larger-than-life Navy SEAL she’d always lusted over, see her shake on the outside. She wouldn’t let anyone see her shake on the outside if she could help it. It wasn’t acceptable. Good Navy children had a stiff upper lip and kept their fears to themselves. They weren’t whiny babies or wimps, and if they made the mistake of being one in her family, then they learned fast the error of their ways.
So she let herself shake inside. All through the ride, while her legs remained draped over his, his large hand occasionally cupping her knees as he flicked a heated look at her.
Otherwise, he watched the traffic, kept a careful check through the back window, and talked to Nathan Malone in SEAL jargon that Emerson had only halfway learned to translate throughout her life of dealing with Navy SEALs, admirals, and various officers. Even her mother was an officer, as were her aunts on her father’s side, various uncles, and cousins. Out of her entire family on her father’s side, in three generations, Emerson was the only one to buck tradition and make a life and a career outside that hallowed institution.
So, translating SEAL talk wasn’t easy.
She knew they were driving aimlessly around Atlanta to make certain there were no tails. Then, Lieutenant Malone was going to drop them off and report to the admiral. After that, there was something about hiding her in a cave. She hoped that was a joke, because, well, caves had bugs and bats and stuff, and she did not do bugs and bats and stuff.
“All’s clear,” Macey finally murmured after watching the back window for what seemed like hours. “Take us to the drop-off then head out. Clint will be straggling back into the States around daylight. Catch up with him and let him know what’s going on. Kell and Reno are OOC for a few more days.”
OOC. Okay, she could handle that one. Out of Country. “Admiral’s gonna wanna know your location,” Nathan reminded him. His ruined voice was harsh, but there was just a hint, the slightest flavor of Ireland sneaking through. She bet his voice had been a panty-wetter before he was tortured by Sorrell and his associates.
“You don’t know,” Macey reminded him. “Clint doesn’t know. Until I know we’re secure, Nathan, I trust no one. Not even the admiral.”
It was too important. Emerson was too important. And the hairs at the nape of his neck tingled at the thought of letting the location out to even the admiral.
Nathan nodded sharply as the inner city streetlights became further apart and the dimmer, more distant lights of the residential areas threw longer, darker shadows into the truck.
“Can I sit up now?” She was tired of laying on her back and staring at Macey or the ceiling. Not that Macey wasn’t a fine thing to look at, but he wasn’t paying any attention to her, so it made the discomfort a bit more noticeable.
“Not yet.” His hand tightened on her knee again and gave her a thrill. She was pathetic, really. Creaming her panties for a shift of fingers against her knee. How low could a woman sink?
“This is uncomfortable, Macey.”
“So is death.” Clipped and impersonal. She hated that voice.
“Do you believe death is uncomfortable? I’d think you’d be unaware—”
“You’re going to be gagged if you don’t shut up.” He glowered down at her.
Emerson twitched her nose. The imp inside her was shaking in fear and staying quiet wouldn’t be easy. If she wasn’t talking, goading or taunting, then she was going to start crying. And she really hated crying.
“Here we go.” Macey jerked the door open, jumped out and grabbed her legs, pulling her across the leather seat as she jerked up in response.
“Let’s go,” he ordered as he gripped her waist and set her down on the sidewalk of a less than reputable residential area.
“I don’t have shoes,” she reminded him.
He began dragging her through a row of scraggly hedges as the pickup pulled away from the curb and drove off.
She was nearly hysterical with fear, well aware of the fact that she was in a bit of trouble. After all, terrorists didn’t drag you out of a bed on the spur of the moment unless they had very bad plans for you.
She shuddered at the thought and thanked God Macey was too busy dragging her through someone’s backyard to notice.
“We’re almost there.” His voice was low, smooth, a stroke to her shattered emotions as he led her into the thick overgrowth of a neglected backyard and into the side door of a garage.
“Where are we?” she asked as he let her go and stalked through the darkness.
A second later, flashlight in hand, he moved back to her and took her arm once again.
“Watch your step here.” He led her through a maze of rusted vehicle parts before they came to the back door. He pulled aside the panel of an electronic alarm, pulled out the wires and accessed the hidden dual security panel where he punched in the security code, waited a few seconds, and reconnected the wires to the front plate before replacing it.
Dummy security plate, she thought, checking it out as he pulled her in through the door. Unusual and unexpected. Anyone who attempted to access the code, no matter the tools, jammers, or methods, would active an alarm simply by attempting to deactivate it.
The inside of the house was darker than ever, the smell a bit musty, as though it was rarely visited. There was the slide of a door, fresher air as he pulled her into a hallway, then downstairs.
Emerson tried to get her bearings. Behind her she could hear the slide of a door, then something else. A muted hum, a click, and then a burst of lights.
She brought her hand up to shield her eyes, blinking as the lights dimmed marginally.
“Sorry, I left them on full power before leaving last night.” Macey stood in the ce
nter of what she assumed was the “cave.”
She looked around. Across the room were a computer and server terminal, routers, secondary systems, and external hard drives. A metal cabinet held a stack of monitors that blinked up, the images showing the inside of a house. Each room and hallway was displayed and several others covered the darkness outside with infrared and heat-seeking capabilities.
Her gaze slid to Macey as he stalked to the main station, sat down in a chair she would give her eyeteeth for at work, and with his large, broad hands began a delicate series of commands over a straight keyboard.
Emerson eased closer to the command center, her eyes tracking over the electronics, both surveillance and stealth, her brows lifting at the impressive setup.
“Give me a minute to set up security and I’ll show you around.”
Emerson looked around and took in the small kitchen/eating area tucked into the corner beside the stairs. On the other side was an open living room with a sectional couch, plasma television with satellite reception, and a complete surround-sound speaker system. A few bookshelves. A scarred coffee table and a door that led into another room of some sort. She hoped there was a bathroom somewhere.
“Where are we?” She rubbed her hands over her arms and fought the chill beginning to invade her system.
The clock on the wall swore it was nearly five in the morning; it had felt like days rather than hours since she had been dragged from her apartment and forced into the back of a stinking van.
“The cave,” he mumbled, hunched over the keyboard, his fingers working the keys with rapid motions that she would have been impressed by if it weren’t for the fact that she was cold, exhausted, and standing on less than certain ground.
“I don’t like caves.” She bit her lip as she stared around the dark wood walls.
“Stand down, Emerson, I’ll be with you in a minute.” His voice was clipped again, impatient.
A frown jerked at the corners of her mouth; it had been a long night and she needed some fresh air… .
She came to an abrupt stop when the steps met a blank wall. Reaching out, she searched for whatever mechanism opened it. There had to be a mechanism.
“It’s electronically controlled and only I have the code.”
“Why isn’t there a regular door?”
“It’s a secured room, Emerson,” he told her quietly. “No entry in or out without my command. We’re on lockdown until Admiral Holloran and Nathan manage to figure this out and capture the leader of the cell of terrorists that took you from the house tonight. We’re going to be roommates for a while, so you might as well come on down here and let me show you around.”
“Do you have any idea when that’ll happen so I can get my life back?” She watched him, feeling uncertain, off balance. Not frightened, but neither did she feel secure within herself.
“Are you going to whine over this?” He cocked his head to the side and watched her curiously. “Funny, Emerson, I didn’t see you as a whiner. Come on, I’ll show you the bedroom and bath. You can freshen up and get some rest.”
He strode across the huge room toward the door at the far wall. Her lips parted in shock. He was ignoring her, striding away from her as though her questions were the result of a whining personality. She did not whine.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Macey?” Each word was precise, hard.
Macey paused at the door, turned and lifted his brow.
“Oh, yeah, Emerson, I’m really enjoying this. Instead of being on the streets searching down terrorists, or covering my buddies’ backs, I’m here. With you.” His gaze flicked over her body. “Where I get to sit with my thumbs up my ass, deflecting your little daggers, and praying this case breaks before the March family reunion weekend in a few weeks.”
She blinked back at him in surprise. “You have family?”
“I wasn’t exactly hatched.”
“Neither are coyotes, but that doesn’t make them domesticated,” she shot back sweetly. “Does your family live close?”
“Close enough.”
“Just close enough?” She turned and leaned against the wall, watching as he watched her.
“Why do you want to know, Em?”
He was the only one who called her Em. It sounded good, much better, and much more feminine than Emerson. But then, her father had wanted a son, not a daughter. They hadn’t been prepared with little girl names when she had been born.
“Maybe I just want to know about you.” She leaned her head against the wall, somehow enjoying how he towered over her, the way he watched her with that baffled male confusion.
“No, you don’t, you want to make me crazy.” His voice roughened as his gaze flicked down her body again. “That’s what you’re good at. Be careful, it might backfire on you this time. You’re damned good at making me crazy, and that should tell you something about this little deal heating up between us. You’re not going to walk all over me like you do the admiral or the men you work with.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I resent that remark, you know.” But she had to admit she did have that habit. “Maybe I just want to find someone who can outthink me. Can you outthink me, Macey?”
“On any low country night that you want to bring on, sweetheart.”
That voice: dark, husky, male. It did something to her. It soothed the anger and the fear and it made the hunger hotter, brighter, the need for his touch almost desperate.
His head lowered as Emerson felt the familiar slow burn, the rising mind-numbing need that began to fill her. It was more than arousal, more than hunger, and it went deeper than lust. She knew lust. She had felt it often enough before Macey. No, whatever it was her body decided it wanted from this man, it was unlike anything she had ever wanted from a man before.
“Maybe it would backfire?” She stared at his lips, mesmerized, feeling her lungs struggle for oxygen as adrenaline began to pump hard and heavy through her body. She had to curl her fingers against her side to keep from touching him, had to fight to keep from tasting his lips.
“Do you want to find out?” His lips curled into a smirk.
That smirk capped it.
“No, Macey, I want you to tease me over it,” she informed him flippantly before turning away.
She would have walked away if he hadn’t grabbed her. Again. If his fingers hadn’t curled around her wrist and the next thing she knew her breasts were cushioned against his chest and his eyes were glittering down at her.
That look haunted her dreams. That gleam of lust and awareness that there was something between them that he couldn’t fight any more than she could.
The instant his lips touched hers, it was over. She was trying to climb into his body, crawl under his skin as his lips moved to take hers.
God, this was one of the things she had loved about his first kiss. Forget an initiation or discovery. He knew what he wanted, sensed what she wanted, and gave it immediately. His lips settled over hers, his teeth nipping her lips until they parted, and his tongue rushed inside to claim territory that already belonged to him.
One large hand cupped the back of her head, and his arm tightened around her back, arching her to him. The height and breadth of his body, the powerful lean muscles, the confidence in his hold washed over her, filling her with an awareness of feminine weakness.
But fear struck her, hard and fast.
She jerked out of his hold, catching the look of surprise on his face as she stumbled away. She couldn’t think. Instinct and reaction surged inside her. Her veins were pounding with the rush of blood that fueled the arousal.
What she just experienced was even more intense than the first kiss. More fiery, harder to control.
As she stared back at him, fighting to make her tongue work, to forget the feel of his against it. He smiled down at her with something akin to tenderness. Surprising, wicked tenderness.
“Gets hot, doesn’t it, Em?” he crooned, moving toward her, his head lowered, his eyes da
rk.
Before she could consider evading him, his hands curved around her upper arms, his hold light, her response to his touch almost violent. His head lowered to her neck, his lips pressing against the throbbing vein pulsing just beneath the skin. The heated caress had her breath catching, her eyelids fluttering with sensual weakness.
“This isn’t a very good idea.” She licked her dry lips nervously, wondering why it was stronger, why it was hotter than that first kiss a month before, why it made her weaker, made her burn brighter.
He snorted as he raised his head. “No kidding. The last time the admiral caught me groping you I lost rank. Maybe you owe me for that, Emerson. From lieutenant to junior lieutenant isn’t fun and games. I should at least get a taste of what I paid for, don’t you think?”
Hurt flashed inside her. “I had nothing to do with that.”
He shrugged as she jerked away from him. “The admiral might have ignored that last little infraction if he hadn’t caught me devouring your tits. I think that tipped the balance.”
Emerson felt the flush burning in her face and the anger blooming in her mind.
“He didn’t see anything.” She could feel the breath strangling in her throat at the thought of what her godfather had walked in on and the lecture he had given her hours later.
“He didn’t have to see.” Macey’s voice dropped, the arousal that still burned in his eyes brightening as his gaze flickered over her body. “The position of my head was self-explanatory. And if you don’t stop pushing me, sweetheart, you’re going to find my lips there again, and next time, I won’t stop. Now, go shower, crawl into bed, and stop arguing with me. Arguing with you just makes me harder.”
It made him harder? It was making her wetter. And if she didn’t get out of this secured basement that he called a cave and away from him, then it was going to make her jump feet-first into a relationship that she knew had the potential to break her heart.
