Tempt the Night

by Dixie Lee Brown

  Hernandez snorted scornfully. “And why is that?”

  “Simple. She’s the only one here who voted for putting you in jail, but she may come over to the dark side yet. There’s only one cure for diplomatic immunity.” Brady paused. “Go ahead and stick around town if you want to, but I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  Surely anyone who heard the stone-cold hardness of Brady’s tone would know how dead serious he was. Mac stared at his profile, overcome by the promise in his words. How far would he go? How far did she want him to go? Suddenly, an eye for an eye seemed far preferable to no justice at all.

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Brady?” Hernandez took a step toward him.

  Brady shoved Mac behind him and strode forward to meet Hernandez. The three bodyguards swarmed toward the action, hands going for something unseen under their jackets, but everyone hesitated at the sound of a pump-action shotgun chambering a round. Mac’s gaze flew to Walker.

  He stepped in front of Brady, stopping him six paces from Hernandez. “That wasn’t a threat, Ambassador. That was a warning—the only one you’re going to get.”

  Hernandez’s eyes bulged with the rage that twisted his face into a sneer. “We’re leaving, but this isn’t over. You have my wife and child, and you have no right to keep them from me.” He turned to glare at Mac. “As for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal, we’ll see what the State Department has to say.”

  Hernandez tried to push Walker out of the way, but when he found that Walker couldn’t be moved, he skirted around him instead. The bodyguards fell in behind. Walker, Ty, and Nick followed, probably to make sure they got through the gate without getting sidetracked.

  Hanford stopped beside Joe. “Son of a bitch. I had no idea, Joe. Don’t blame you for being pissed, but I’ll see what I can find out about the wife and kid and the murders he’s talking about. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks, Guy. I’d appreciate that.” Joe and Rayna walked him out.

  Mac almost felt sorry for Special Agent Hanford, but he deserved to be stuck in a vehicle with the furious Ambassador Hernandez after bringing him here with no advance notice. Still, it was sure to be an unpleasant drive. She could barely breathe just being in a room he recently vacated.

  Turning on her heels, she started for the door. “I need some air.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  BRADY FOLLOWED MAC as she pushed by Joe and Rayna at the front door and was momentarily illuminated in the yard light. The ambassador paced near the car with barely restrained rage, his henchmen huddled close by, and Ty, Nick, and Walker stood watch over them. Mac gave no indication she even saw them as she jogged across the grass, turned the corner, and disappeared in the dark shadow of the house.

  Joe dropped his hand on Brady’s shoulder, stopping him. “I’d like you and Mac to be there when I talk to Maria. I think she’ll be more comfortable if she has friends in the room.”

  Brady nodded. “Give Mac a few minutes to get her head on straight.”

  “Take as long as you need.” Joe turned his attention back to the car.

  Hanford slid behind the wheel and started the engine. The others hurried to climb in, clearly not good with the idea of being left behind. Brady would have liked to show them out himself, but no doubt Walker would leave a lasting enough impression. Anyway, Brady had more important things to do at the moment.

  When he rounded the corner of the house, Mac was nowhere to be seen. Brady slowed and then stopped. Where in the hell had she gotten to so quickly? He listened. No footsteps. No faint breaths. Lifting his head, he drew in the night aromas. Pine trees, a fishy smell off the lake, the residual odor of gunpowder from the firing range . . . and there it was. Whatever scent she exuded reminded him of his mother’s apple pies—sugar and spice.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated, swinging in a slow circle. After a few seconds, he stopped, opened his eyes, and smiled. The dog kennels were a hundred and fifty feet north of the house. Dillon, Joe’s shepherd, and Ribs, Rayna’s pit bull, hadn’t been turned out for the night yet. How had Mac managed to get anywhere close without them sounding the alarm?

  As he approached, Ribs stood and gave a halfhearted woof. “Sure, now you bark . . . you sorry sack of—”

  “I told them not to.” Mac rose from her position kneeling against the wooden shed beside the kennels.

  Brady halted, trying to make out her familiar curves in the moonlight. “Are you telling me you’re a dog whisperer now?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t whisper.” Her voice was thin and tired. Shoulders slumped as she turned away and braced her arms against the wall.

  He strode to her. Reaching out to draw her against him, he hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, feel her softness against him. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He also wanted her beneath him . . . his manhood deep inside her . . . thrusting hard and fast until his need for her was sated once and for all. His dick responded with a twitch.

  He pivoted, leaning his back against the wall, so close to her his arm brushed her side.

  Mac folded her arms above her head, leaning her body against the wooden structure. She turned her head and stared at him. “Can he really get away with it?”

  Brady met her gaze. “Not if we don’t let him.”

  “So what you’re saying is that in order to stop him, we have to become as bad as he is.”

  “That’s not what I said. Every day good people make decisions to stop men just like Hernandez. Navy SEALs, Marines, every division of the military. Men like your friend Callahan. Women too. Not everyone is equipped. Most shouldn’t try, but my friends and I are uniquely qualified. I can guarantee you that Hernandez won’t go unpunished.”

  Mac raised her head and studied him. “Why would you do that?”

  “You mean aside from the fact that it needs to be done?” He paused and threw her a grin. “I’d do it for you . . . so you’d have closure, and most importantly, so you don’t have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life wondering when that SOB was coming for you.”

  Mac’s chest heaved once . . . twice . . . as though she was having trouble breathing. Suddenly, she pushed away from the wall and stepped in front of him. “It’s not fair.”

  Her angry eyes shone with unshed tears, and once again he had to redirect his thoughts to keep from pulling her into his arms. “Shit’s never fair.” His life was a testament to that.

  She pursed her lips and studied him. “That’s deep, Brady.” A crooked grin gradually appeared, erasing the worry wrinkles in her forehead. Then, without any encouragement from him, Mac took a step closer and leaned into his chest, sliding her arms around his waist.

  He hesitated only a second before wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close. A groan escaped him.

  She shifted her head to glance up. “Do you mind?”

  A soft chuckle vibrated through him. “Sugar, I’ll hold you anytime—anywhere.”

  Mac snuggled closer, and he tipped her head with his fingers, slowly covering her mouth with his, giving her plenty of time to change his mind. When she didn’t, he drank of her sweetness like a man dying of thirst. Again and again he kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, swirling and dancing with hers. He couldn’t get enough of her full, soft lips, her sweet taste, and the bold way she pressed against him.

  Brady couldn’t say which of the day’s events was responsible for her change in temperature where he was concerned, but it wasn’t important. They were taking steps in the right direction, and he wasn’t going to do anything to screw that up. He wanted her warm and willing in his hands, but he also wanted her there for the right reasons. The decision was hers to make.

  When he lifted his head, there were tears on her eyelashes, but her smile made his heart grab an extra beat. He let his fingers trail across the satin skin of her cheek as he kissed her neck tenderly and breathed in her sweet scent.

  “God, you smell good.” He kissed each of her closed eyes, then leaned his forehead on h
ers and took a deep breath. “I’d love for this to go on all night. Unfortunately, Joe wants us to meet with Maria.” He steadied her as she straightened and took a step back.

  Mac’s gaze was uncertain. “We could meet later . . . if you want to . . . ”

  “Aw, sugar. If I want to? That’s like asking if I want to keep breathing.” He threaded his fingers in her hair and brushed his lips over hers. “I’ve wanted you since the first time you lied to me.” Brady chuckled as her eyes lit up.

  She punched his chest with a fisted hand. “Hey! That was the only time I lied, and I had a darn good reason. Some big galoot knocks me down, pounces on me, and then expects me to be truthful. Huh-uh. I don’t think so.” Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

  “Galoot, huh? No more John Wayne movies for you, sugar.”

  She sucked in a big breath, and he could tell by the mischief in her eyes she was getting ready to let him have it. He touched his fingers to her lips to silence her. “Let me say this, okay? There’s a good chance we’ll go in and meet with Maria, and sometime before, after, or during you’ll think about us—about me—and decide we’re not a good idea. I want you to know two things. First . . . it’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time. Second . . . if you decide it’s a mistake or that you’re not ready to get any closer, that’s okay. No pressure.”

  He stepped back and gave her some room. It struck him that he’d just lied to her. What he said would have been true for any other woman he’d ever known, but he damn sure wasn’t going to give up on Mac that easily.

  A grin made the sparkle in her eyes dance as she slipped her hand in his. “Obviously, you’re confusing me with some other woman, because I don’t usually change my mind once it’s made up, and I’m a big girl, so you can stop worrying that your charm, good looks, and sex appeal will bowl me over. As for thinking about you—yeah.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice to a silky whisper. “You might cross my mind once or twice . . . so let’s get this meeting over with.”

  “You got it, sugar.” Brady couldn’t remember when he’d been so contented—or when he’d ever used that word to describe himself before. Whether or not tonight ended with him in bed with this amazingly beautiful and brave woman didn’t really matter. The last few minutes had made it clear that his interest in her went way beyond just the prospect of sex. He wanted everything she had to give. Shit! She’d turned him upside down and inside out until he doubted his own ability to walk away . . . or even if he wanted to.

  The dogs jumped up and paced their kennels as Brady and Mac skirted their enclosures on their way to the house. Mac paused to poke a finger through the wire and stroke one of their muzzles. “What are their names?”

  Brady came alongside her and laced his fingers with hers. “Okay, Ms. I’m-not-a-dog-whisperer—the shepherd is Dillon. He doesn’t like people much, except for Joe and his wife, Cara . . . and you, apparently. The pit bull belongs to Rayna. His name is Ribs, due to the fact he was mostly ribs when she found him. He’s a cream puff . . . unless you’re trying to hurt Rayna.”

  “Is she the pretty blonde who met us inside when we arrived?”

  “Yes. Sorry there wasn’t time for introductions. Tomorrow, I’ll show you around, introduce you to everyone, and if you still want me to teach you to shoot, we can start whenever you’re ready.” Brady slid his arm around her waist and turned her toward the house.

  As they approached the front door, he saw the women sitting on the porch. He should have known that now that the visitors were gone, these four wouldn’t wait another minute to meet the new arrivals.

  He sensed the tension in Mac. “Don’t worry. You’ll love them, and they’ll love you.” He removed his arm and grabbed her hand. “Just don’t believe everything they say about me.” He winked, warmed by the smile he received in return.

  Irene was the first to rise and come toward them. She put her arm around Mac’s shoulders and deftly pried her loose from Brady.

  He started to protest and then just shook his head. “Uh . . . Mac, this is Irene. She manages the house and, well, pretty much everything else.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and trailed along behind.

  “Hi, Mac. Forgive me for butting right into your conversation, but I get so excited when we get a female visitor. We don’t get very many of those, as you might imagine—although it’s better than it used to be.” Irene beamed at the three ladies still seated on the porch.

  “Irene, Mac and I have to meet Joe. We’re probably already late.” Brady stepped toward the front door.

  “And we’re entertaining Marco while you have your meeting with Joe and Maria. It’ll just take a minute to introduce Mac to the girls.” Irene dismissed Brady with a wave of her hand.

  One by one, she introduced Mac to Joe’s wife, Cara; Walker’s fiancée, Darcy; and Ty’s girlfriend, Rayna. As Brady knew they would, the women welcomed Mac with open arms and a healthy dose of chatter. It was good to see her relax and smile, responding to the complete acceptance the others offered. Finally, though, he began to tap his foot and then cleared his throat.

  Cara glanced toward him and stopped in the middle of her sentence. “Oh . . . we should let you go. We can gab tomorrow.” She threw Brady an apologetic smile.

  Irene patted Mac’s hand. “Sorry, dear. It was really only supposed to take a minute.” Laughter followed her comment. “I had your bag taken up to your room on the third floor. It’s none of my business, honey, but there’s not much in there.”

  Mac’s cheeks reddened. “I’d have less than that if Brady hadn’t bought me some things.” She stretched out the bottom of the yellow top she wore.

  Irene glanced at him with appreciation in her eyes, then back at the women. “Ladies, I see a shopping trip in our future.”

  There were a couple of hoots and a shrill whistle. Mac smiled, and for the first time since he’d met her, she seemed to let her guard down. This—sitting on the porch with her new women friends—would be good medicine. He could already feel his jaw tighten as the thought of sharing her wound him up. Where the hell did that come from? First of all, she wasn’t his to share. Second, even if she was, he couldn’t keep her.

  Nodding as the women included him in their goodbyes, he held the door open for Mac and followed her through.

  Ty approached and jabbed his head toward the open study door. “Maria will be down in a minute.” He walked on by them and entered the room.

  Mac’s apprehensive gaze met Brady’s. “Joe won’t be angry with her for not being honest about her connection to Hernandez, will he?”

  “Naw. That’s not the way he operates.” They both turned as they heard Maria and Marco descending the stairs.

  Marco waved toward Brady, his face glowing with a brilliant smile. His happiness, although understandable, was bittersweet for Mac. Paddy should have been in this picture too.

  Maria gripped Marco’s hand and turned him to face her as she knelt in front of him, buttoning his small jacket. “You must be good for Señora Irene. I won’t be long, and I’ll come to get you as soon as I can.” She caressed his cheek as his smile faded. “Don’t worry, my son. We have nothing to fear in this place.”

  “I know, Mama, but you only just got here, and I wanted to show you around.”

  Maria rose and tugged him toward the door where the women waited. “And I want to see everything and meet all your friends. We’ll have lots of time, Marco.” The obvious love in Maria’s voice made Mac’s eyes sting for a moment before the enormity of the night’s events diverted her thoughts.

  As mother and son disappeared outside, Brady and Mac headed toward the office. Joe, Ty, and Walker, conferring quietly in front of the big oak desk that was the focal point of the room, all turned when they entered.

  Joe nodded, and his gaze swept to Mac. “Thanks for coming. I want Maria to know she’s not alone—that she has a friend. As that friend, feel free to call me on anything you don’t like the sound of. You too, Jim. By the time this is over, hopefully she�
��ll know we’re all her friends. Sound fair?”

  “More than fair.”

  Brady was still trying to find a reason for the thirty seconds of distrust that had been plastered on Walker’s face when Mac had walked into the room. What the hell was going on in his head?

  But as quickly as it had appeared, Walker swept it away and resumed his gruff and good-natured manner. “Way to get in that creep’s face, Mac. Interesting that when you accused him of killing your friend he didn’t deny it. Just pulled the old diplomatic immunity card. If we didn’t know he was guilty before, we do now.”

  Maria entered the room, and Mac went to her immediately. “How is your son, Maria? Was it a good reunion? I’m so sorry I missed it.”

  A proud smile warred with the concern on Maria’s face for a moment. “I would like for you to meet him when we have more time. Marco is a good boy. We have much to catch up on.” She turned toward Joe. “Thank you for finding him and bringing him here. I tried so hard to keep him safe, but now it appears I’ve brought danger to your doorstep.”

  Joe swept a hand toward a black leather chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat. Let’s talk about some of the things you left out of the story the first time.”

  Mac’s gaze jerked toward Joe, and she skewered him with a warning glare. Joe got it immediately, and in the split second before he turned his back, his eyes sparkled in a way that made Brady wonder if he’d been testing her.

  Maria seated herself, and Mac took the matching chair a couple of feet away. Joe circled the desk and sat, bracing his elbows on the surface. Ty and Walker leaned their shoulders against a bookshelf on the wall, while Brady stood behind Mac’s chair. Everyone’s eyes were on Maria.

  “Why didn’t you tell us he’s your husband?” Joe’s favorite technique when interrogating—start out with a bang and catch the subject off guard.

  He obviously accomplished his objective. Maria inhaled sharply, paled as though she’d seen a ghost, and shook her head firmly. “No! He’s not my husband, and I wish to God he never had been.”