Nightfire: A Protectors Novel: Marine Force Recon

by Lisa Marie Rice

  “Chloe?” Harry stood at the door, Ellen beside him. Mike was by her side.

  “She’s falling asleep,” Chloe whispered. “I don’t want to wake her.”

  “No,” Ellen’s eyes widened in horror, “don’t wake her. Do you feel like carrying her up? It’s just a few floors up in the elevator.”

  At any other moment in her life, Chloe would have recoiled at the thought of being responsible for a child in her arms. Walking, holding a baby. She had trouble keeping herself upright at times. She sometimes tripped unexpectedly. She was not in complete control of her body and carrying a tiny baby was not a good idea.

  But she’d claw the eyes out of anyone who took this child from her arms. She was suddenly infused with a huge dose of physical confidence. She was absolutely convinced that she wouldn’t trip with Gracie in her arms. She felt strong, connected to the earth with massive roots that dug deep, invincible, unbreakable.

  And then there was Mike, who stuck right by her side.

  She couldn’t possibly fall, not with Mike beside her.

  She felt the warm weight of Gracie in her arms, anchoring her to the earth, and smiled at Harry, her new brother, Ellen, her new sister-in-law, and at Mike, her new . . . whatever.

  “Let’s go, then,” she said.

  Chapter 7

  Sam and Nicole’s place was as warm and welcoming as ever. It was Mike’s favorite place in the world, closely followed by Harry and Ellen’s apartment. And it held his two favorite people in the world—Merry and Gracie.

  Gracie was in Chloe’s arms, as if she’d been born to be there. Mike would never forget how dazzled Chloe had looked when Ellen placed Gracie in her arms. She didn’t even notice Harry’s and Ellen’s reactions when Gracie immediately stilled, then became content and drowsy.

  Harry told him that Gracie had been crying for days, barely letting them sleep. One second with Chloe and she was content.

  Man, did Mike ever sympathize. Chloe had this . . . this magic aura of warmth and gentleness and calm. He’d be feeling calm, too, if he wasn’t so goddamned aroused.

  He’d been on a hair trigger kissing her. Only an absolute lifetime of serious and copious fucking had given him the self-control he needed not to come in his pants, something that would have been seriously uncool, something he hadn’t done since high school.

  But man, it had been close. He’d felt Chloe’s orgasm in her mouth, against her belly, throughout her entire body. And when she told him it was her first—whoa. Mind-blowing.

  Sam and Nicole walked into the living room to greet them, Sam carrying Merry. She squealed when she saw him, turned to her father and ordered imperiously, “Down, Daddy.”

  Sam was hard-wired to obey Merry, something Nicole worked on constantly. She said she was having another child simply so Sam could spread his spoiling between two children instead of one.

  Sam placed Merry gently on the ground and Merry ran toward Mike like a homing missile, because she knew Mike was even more weak-kneed when it came to her and Gracie.

  “Unca Mike!” she squealed, and launched herself from two feet away, an old game. Mike caught her and whirled with her while she laughed. “Unca Mike, look!”

  She caught his face between her two small hands to turn his head to her, just in case she didn’t have his full attention. Merry had the princess gene in full.

  “Yeah, pumpkin?” he asked.

  She pointed at her feet. “Look, Unca Mike. New shoes!” She shot a small foot out so he could admire them. “They’re red,” she said in a hushed, worshipful tone, face solemn. “And shiny.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “She’s been pestering me for those shoes since she saw them a couple of weeks ago.” She shot an ironic glance at her husband. “I don’t know who campaigned harder for those shoes—Merry or Sam.”

  Sam looked abashed for a moment. He’d try to get her the moon if she wanted it.

  “They’re beautiful shoes, Merry,” Mike said solemnly, biting his lips. Bright shiny new shoes—red shoes—were indeed something to be taken seriously. No smiling.

  She nodded her agreement, black ponytail bobbing.

  “I want to introduce you to someone, Merry. You have a new aunt.”

  Merry’s eyes widened, mostly because, for her, aunt meant presents and dancing when her aunt Ellen sang. “Aunt” was a pretty neat concept in Merry’s world. One more aunt meant more loot and fun.

  Mike turned to Chloe, Merry resting on one arm, Chloe holding Gracie in her arms. The moment, the picture, the idea—it was all so perfect, him introducing Merry to her new aunt.

  “Merry, honey, this is your new aunt Chloe. Say how do you do.”

  “Down, Unca Mike,” she ordered. She walked over to Chloe, held out a small hand and said, “How do?”

  Merry was nothing if not well-behaved, which was all Nicole’s doing. If it were for Sam’s paternal discipline, Merry would behave as if raised by wolves. As it was, she was a perfect little lady.

  Chloe reached down a hand, smiling. “How do you do, Merry? It’s very nice to meet you.”

  Merry studied Chloe’s face, then did something unusual. She leaned up against Chloe’s leg and held on to her, looking up. “Aunt Chloe,” she said.

  It was quite a picture, so beautiful Mike took a snapshot in his head, knowing he’d be taking it out often. A beautiful young woman, with a beautiful blonde baby in her arms and a beautiful dark-haired child holding on to her.

  Everyone felt it, felt the power of it. Certainly Mike did, like a blow to the heart. Harry and Ellen and Gracie, Sam and Nicole and Merry—they now had, forever more, someone else in their circle to love.

  Merry had been studying Chloe’s face, a small frown scrunching her face. She looked at him, then back at Chloe. “Aunt Chloe, are you Unca Mike’s wife?”

  I wish. The words nearly came out of his mouth, he felt it so powerfully. Because for an instant he could see it, he could feel it.

  Chloe, his wife. Surrounded by their children.

  She smiled down at Merry. “No, darling, I’m Uncle Harry’s sister.” She smoothed her hand over Merry’s ponytail. “And now your aunt.”

  “Well,” Nicole said shakily. Her eyes glistened. “I think it’s time to eat. Chloe—do you need help?” Considering she was holding one child and another child was holding her.

  “No.” Chloe smiled. “I’m good.”

  Mike walked into the big dining room with her, Merry still clinging to her. He understood Merry completely, he wished he could lean up against Chloe, absorb some of that serenity.

  “Oh!” Chloe stopped at the threshold to the dining room. Manuela had done them proud. Sam and Nicole’s dining table was enormous, a shiny mahogany polished so brightly the lit candles were perfectly reflected upside down. “How beautiful.”

  It was. There were candles in tall silver holders and small vases of cut flowers among about a thousand serving trays of food, steaming hot and smelling delicious.

  Nicole clapped her hands. “Okay, Chloe, you sit here, Ellen here—”

  “Mommy!” Merry’s voice rang out. “Me next to Aunt Chloe!”

  Nicole blinked because Merry always wanted to sit next to daddy, who never corrected her table manners.

  “Me, too,” Mike said quickly, before the seats next to Chloe ran out. No way was he sitting across the table from her. “I want to sit next to her, too.”

  “Here.” Ellen turned to Chloe, arms out. “Let me take Gracie. I’m used to eating with her in my arms.”

  “Sure.” Chloe held a blanket-wrapped Gracie out to her mother. Gracie woke up with a little snuffle, and after a few false starts, cranked up the engine and started wailing. Ellen rocked her gently, crooning a soft lullaby.

  The wails grew louder.

  “Honey.” Harry put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Let me try.”

  “Okay.” Looking worried, Ellen gently handed Gracie over to her husband. The wails grew louder, positively heartbreaking.

  Chloe
bit her lips, opened her mouth, closed it.

  Gracie turned her head away from the pacifier, the wails as loud as a siren.

  “Could I—” Chloe looked at Harry and Ellen. “Could I try to calm her down?”

  Puzzled, Harry said, “Sure,” and gently transferred the bundle back to Chloe.

  Gracie stopped crying as if a switch had been thrown.

  “Wow,” Mike said.

  “Yeah.” Harry shook his head. “Man, am I glad you’re going to be staying with us. You’re going to stay a long, long time.”

  “Until all Gracie’s teeth come in, at least,” Ellen added fervently. “Maybe till college.”

  Chloe leaned to one side as Manuela heaped food on her plate. Seconds and thirds included. Manuela belonged to the More Is Better school of cooking.

  “I only packed for a few days,” Chloe said, smiling. “Be hard to stay here until Gracie goes to college.”

  “So buy new clothes,” Nicole said, slicing into a sausage and onion omelette. “It’ll be fun. I’ll take you shopping.” She slanted her eyes at Merry, leaning against Chloe, looking up in adoration. “Merry can come. She loves shopping. I think she’s fallen in love with you.”

  “Shopping,” Merry said with almost religious fervor. “With Aunt Chloe.”

  Harry laughed. He was seated across the table from her and leaned forward. “Honey . . .” He stopped, hesitated. Mike looked at him surprised. Harry wasn’t the kind of man who hesitated. “If you need money, that is absolutely not a problem.”

  “Oh, not at all!” Ellen chimed in. “Whatever you want, whatever you need—”

  Chloe held up a hand, looking dismayed. “No, no, I don’t need money. As a matter of fact—” Sitting next to her, Mike could see her hands trembling. She drew in a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, that was the main reason I tried to track you down, Harry. My parents—my adoptive parents—left me money. A lot of it. And it’s only fair that half of it go to you. We can make an appointment with a lawyer while I’m here and I can transfer half the estate to you.”

  Silence. All eyes turned to Harry, who was shaking his head.

  “Chloe,” he said gently. “I don’t want your money. Not a penny of it. Our company is doing very well and even if the company went belly-up”—he shot a smile at Ellen—“if I were to go bankrupt tomorrow, Ellen here earns so much she can keep me in the style to which I’ve become accustomed. Not to mention the fact that she’s so good with the damned stuff that she doubles the value of our investments every six months. You went through hell, Chloe. Keep all the money and enjoy it. Just as long as you enjoy it here in San Diego. With us.”

  Tears shimmered in Chloe’s eyes.

  Mike leaned in close to her. “Told you,” he murmured. She turned to him with a choked laugh. “So it’s dinner at the Del. Tomorrow night.”

  Oh yeah. Tomorrow night, the night after, the night after that. What Mike felt was right there in his face and she blushed when she looked at him.

  Oh man. Life was really looking up. Last night he was fucking a whack job, and less than twenty-four hours later, here he was with the most delectable woman he’d ever set eyes on, and he wasn’t going to let her go.

  “Okay,” she said softly, and he did a mental fist pump. Tomorrow night. Dinner in the Crown Room. Soft candlelight that would make her skin glow more than it did already. A great meal, a walk along the beach afterwards . . .

  His cell phone rang.

  He pulled it out to turn it off. Nope, sorry, whoever you are. Not in. Not now, maybe not ever again. Everyone he cared about in the world was right here in this room with him. The rest of the world could just fuck off.

  Oh shit. Bill Kelly. A good guy from SDPD and, most of all, a former Marine. Being a Marine was the closest thing to a religion Mike had. Though he wasn’t on active duty in the Corps, Mike was still a Marine. All Marines were his brothers. The second half of the famous motto. Semper fi, yeah. But above all, semper fraternis. Always brothers. Mike had Sam and Harry, his blood brothers. But he also had the whole Corps. Every Marine was in a sense his brother.

  And Bill Kelly was one of the best. A hard-ass but a real good guy. Mike couldn’t blow him off, not even tonight when he might have found the woman of his dreams.

  So, with a sigh, he flipped open his cell. “Yo. Bill. Now’s not a really good time, but—”

  “You home?” Bill’s gravelly voice was flat.

  “Nope.” Mike frowned. “I’m at Sam’s, but—”

  “Be there in two,” Bill growled, and the screen went dead.

  Mike held his phone for a second, staring at it. For Bill to be here in two meant that he was at Mike’s door five stories down.

  What the fuck?

  It didn’t take Bill two minutes, it took one. Nicole went to answer the door and Mike heard Bill’s low rumble in the front hall as he greeted Nicole, then followed Nicole into the dining room.

  Bill was no dummy. He saw he was interrupting something. He ducked his head. “Ladies. Reston, Bolt.” He stuck his thumb over his shoulder. “Keillor, you’re with me.”

  This was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. Bill had an old-fashioned sense of propriety. He would never interrupt a family party like this on a casual visit. So this was business.

  But Mike wasn’t a member of the SDPD anymore. He wasn’t under Bill’s command. If Bill was going to ask for a favor, he was going about it the wrong way.

  And, dammit, whatever it was, it could wait. Mike was having a real good time and he didn’t want to leave Chloe’s side.

  “Can it wait, Bill?” Mike didn’t even bother disguising the impatience in his voice.

  Bill frowned. “No. It can’t. And I’m about ten minutes ahead of an arrest warrant. This is a favor I’m doing you, Keillor, dammit, so you can get your ass on out there, right now.”

  Bill never swore in front of ladies, never. He must be under massive stress.

  Then Mike focused on what he said. “Arrest warrant?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sam and Harry were on their feet, chairs shoved back, suddenly bristling with aggression. Nicole and Ellen and Chloe looked shocked.

  Aware that something was wrong with the adults, Merry ran to her mom and threw her little arms around Nicole’s expanding waist. Gracie woke up and started crying. Chloe tried to hush her but it wasn’t working. She transferred the little bundle into Ellen’s arms.

  The entire table was beautifully set, the food steaming, up until a minute ago immensely inviting. A table of celebration. Now the sharp smells of food rose in his nostrils like a fog and made him nauseous. The celebration was ruined.

  What the fuck?

  “Now, Keillor.” Bill’s voice was flat, command in it.

  Mike didn’t obey because this was a command situation—for the first time in his life he had no command structure at all, and he found he liked it that way—but because this shit was fucking with one of the best days of his life. He wanted this—whatever this was—over, now.

  Some kind of mistake had been made and he wanted it straightened out, fast.

  With an exclamation of impatience, Mike strode into Sam’s living room, indicated that Bill should take one of Sam’s big comfortable armchairs, and he sat down on the edge of the sofa, at a right angle.

  A moment later, Sam sat next to him on the sofa and Harry on the armchair next to Bill’s.

  Bill raised his eyebrows. “You okay with this?” he asked Mike.

  What a dumb-ass question. “Yeah. They’re my brothers. I don’t have anything to hide from them.”

  Kelly nodded, pulled out a notebook. He was the last holdout among the detectives, most of whom took notes on laptops or iPads.

  Kelly flipped back a few pages, looked up at Mike. “Where were you last night?”

  Mike froze. Christ, last night? Sam and Harry looked at each other, then at him. “Ah, I went out.”

  Kelly’s jaw muscles jumped, gray eyes cold and frosty. He let the silence hang
there. Mike knew better than to give that answer, he was a former cop, after all. But all of a sudden, for one of the few times in his life, he was ashamed of his tomcatting ways. Sam and Harry had been at home with their wives and daughters while he’d been in a dive, drinking too much and picking up a crazy.

  He was too old for that, he suddenly realized. No more bar-hopping. It was a depressing way to drown his problems, and anyway the problems were right there with him, the next morning. Together with a hangover and a burning desire to get far away from the woman he’d been with.

  Mike gave a heavy sigh. “Okay. I went out around eleven, drove down to Logan Heights, drank a few shots in a couple of bars.”

  Kelly had his notebook open on his knee, but he didn’t look down. “Ending up at The Cave?”

  “I don’t remember,” Mike began, when suddenly he did. He flashed on the big, broken neon sign over the filthy window, THE AVE. “Yeah,” he sighed. “The Cave.”

  “You picked up a woman.”

  What the fuck business was it of Kelly’s. What—he’d suddenly become the sex police? “I don’t see what business that is of yours.”

  “What was her name?” Kelly’s voice became even colder.

  Jesus. Her name? If Mike were capable of blushing, he’d blush. If she’d told him her name he didn’t remember it. He’d been way too drunk.

  He shrugged.

  “Real love affair, huh.” Kelly’s voice was icy.

  Mike’s teeth ground.

  “The name Mila Koravich mean anything to you?”

  Mila—Mike closed his eyes, tried to envision the woman’s apartment. Filth, disorder, rank smells. All he remembered was the stench and the sick feeling of drunkenness. Had her name been on anything? He scanned his memory behind his closed eyelids. Nope.

  Mike’s eyes opened. “Sorry. I don’t remember her name. So what’s it matter to you?”

  “You got rough with her, didn’t you?”

  Shame flooded his system in a hot rush. Harry and Sam sat silently, watching him. In the drunken haze that was last night, the memory of holding her down, of seeing her red, slightly swollen wrists with the white marks of his hands circling them, stood out.