Forged in Ember

by Trish McCallan

  She’d totally blindsided him. But then she’d blindsided herself as well. She hadn’t planned to spill all those emotions out loud. She hadn’t planned to practically demand that Mackenzie have an affair with her. Good God, could she have sounded any more desperate or pathetic?

  Flinching internally, she tried to maintain her outward calm. Brendan didn’t need to know what a twit his mother had become. Or that his mother was rapidly becoming obsessed with a man who wasn’t his father. Although she suspected her feelings for Mac wouldn’t bother her oldest son.

  Brendan was mature for his age—mature enough he might even have picked up on her attraction to Mac. If he had, she would never know. Brendan, like his father, kept his thoughts and feelings internal. Ninety percent of Brendan existed beneath the surface. John had been the same way. It had taken years to burrow under his surface, to connect with the man she’d married, the man she’d loved, the man who’d been a wonderful father to her sons.

  Grief whispered through her. Loss. A deep, aching sorrow. But they felt like old emotions—faded by time and distance.

  It felt odd to feel this way. Lusting after one man while grieving for another. Yet there was no sense of guilt. Or betrayal. Sure, the two of them had had their problems; every couple did. Yes, even now, she sometimes felt frustrated that he hadn’t trusted her enough to feel comfortable in her choice of career. But she’d loved John with every ounce of her heart. She wouldn’t change one moment of the years they’d shared. She’d been faithful to him. Would have remained faithful to him for the rest of her life—for the rest of their life together, if he’d lived.

  But he was gone.

  It felt like he’d been gone forever. Lost to her for years, although she knew her sense of time was warped by her experiences over the past five months. These days Mac was the man who haunted her thoughts, and she couldn’t throw the kiss-and-run routine at him again. She had to make sure she was ready for Mac’s . . . attention. It was time to do some research and find out how she could counter the flashback and stop it from ruining the moment.

  “How come Benji isn’t waking up?”

  Brendan’s voice brought Amy to attention. “It’s the medicine they’re giving him to keep his temperature down. It makes him sleepy.”

  Or so the nurses and doctors had told her . . . repeatedly.

  “Oh.” Brendan got up and wandered to his brother’s bedside. “He’s never quiet like this.” A tense tone entered his voice. “I don’t like it.”

  She knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t natural to see her youngest so still and quiet. There was almost an ominous portent to his stillness.

  She rose to her feet and joined Brendan at the edge of the bed. The arm she settled over his shoulders was as much for her as it was for him. “It won’t be long now. The doctors will figure out what’s wrong with him and how to make him better.”

  When she raised a hand to Brendan’s cheek and then his forehead, he released a long-suffering sigh and looked up at her. “I feel good. Okay? I’m not sick.”

  Yet.

  But she swallowed the negative response.

  Brendan turned back to Benji and frowned. “Commander Mackenzie is going after the people who did this to him. To the both of us.” The words weren’t a question. They were stated as a fact.

  “Where did you hear that?” She hadn’t told him the news yet. She’d wanted to make sure the mission went off as planned. Lots of things could happen between planning and launch.

  “At the cafeteria. William asked how Benji was doing and said Commander Mackenzie was going to bring back the man who’d done this to us. So we could get answers on how to fix things.” His face was solemn. “Is it true?”

  “For the most part,” she admitted.

  “When?”

  “I’m not sure. When they—” Her words were cut off by the sound of the curtain being drawn back.

  Mac poked his head around the edge of the curtain, his gaze on the bed before scanning her with guarded eyes. “How’s he doing?”

  He came back.

  Relief swelled. Her chest went light and bubbly.

  “The same.” Amy pushed the words past her tight throat. He’d come back. She hadn’t driven him away.

  He scowled as though he didn’t like her update.

  “Here’s the plan.” His gaze shot from Brendan to Benji and back to Amy’s face. “We’re about to start brainstorming this”—he shot another look at Brendan—“thing. All that intel you gathered on our target would come in handy.”

  Amy’s heart lightened even further until it felt like it could float right out of her chest. He was asking her to join their prep session. Except . . . her gaze flew to her sleeping son. Her heart turned heavy and sank. She couldn’t leave. What if he woke up? What if he needed her? What if he got worse? Or better?

  “Yeah.” Mac’s voice was rougher than normal. The hard planes of his face blurred with understanding. “That’s why we decided to hold the meeting in here. Bring in some chairs. There’s room for the five of us.” He glanced at Brendan. “Or six. You have the laptop.” He shuffled his feet, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Unless you think it would disturb your boy?”

  “No, he’ll sleep right through it.” Amy swallowed hard, the swell of gratitude so strong her chest ached.

  He’d known she’d want to be involved in the prep and planning but couldn’t leave Benji’s side, so he’d brought the prep and planning to her. It showed an understanding of her nature she hadn’t expected.

  “Good, that’s good. Hang on.” He ducked back out, the curtain falling shut behind him.

  A few seconds later the curtain was swept back again, and Mac stepped in carrying a chair identical to the one she occupied. He placed the chair so close to Amy’s, the arms touched. Seconds later Zane arrived, identical chair in hand. He was followed by Cosky and Rawls.

  In no time the room turned claustrophobic. The chairs were pressed arm to arm and marched around the edge of the bed. But they got all of them in, by God, and the curtain closed behind them.

  “We’re looking for possible entry strategies and identifying potential opportunities.” Mac cast an unreadable glance her way.

  His forearm brushed against hers as he claimed the armrest. Chills swept her spine. Tingles tickled her fingers. He froze next to her, and his breath caught. It was subtle, but she was so close to him she heard it.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Brendan asked, his voice carefully neutral. So neutral Amy knew he was dying to stay.

  “Amy?” Mac cocked an eyebrow at her, his heavy-lidded gaze dropping and lingering on her lips.

  “He already knows you’re going after Link.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as husky to the rest of them as it did to her. “And he’s not going to accidently spill the details to someone who can use them against you.”

  When Mac’s eyes sharpened on her mouth and started to glitter, the tingle attacking her fingers jumped to her lips.

  He’s going to accept my offer.

  Every look he gave her told her so—the way he sat so close, the press of his arm against hers. He shed clues like electricity shed sparks. A sudden spike of nerves hit her belly. She hadn’t really thought he’d take her up on it. His no-trespassing signs were posted so high and so often, she hadn’t expected him to step outside them and meet her halfway.

  “In that case you might as well stay.” Zane sprawled back in his chair and winked at Brendan.

  Rawls cleared his throat, his attention bouncing between Amy and Mac. “Anyone have any ideas on how we’re gonna get up close and personal with Link? Close enough to grab him?”

  Cosky’s forehead furrowed. “Hell, it’s going to be a bitch getting close enough to grab him. As acting CEO of Dynamic Solutions, he’s bound to have full security detail.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Mac barked with a meaningful look at Benji and Brendan.

  The warning inspired choking, exaggerated disbelief from his men. Amy fought ba
ck a giggle too. Of all the men to sound off about swearing in front of her children . . . But still, the attempt to police his men for her sake was awfully sweet . . . and totally unexpected.

  After a moment of pulsing silence, Mac cleared his throat. “What did you find on Link’s upcoming activities? Anything look promising?”

  The glow diminished instantly. “Nothing, unfortunately. The only public appearances he’s scheduled for are a month out, which is too far when it comes to our time line.”

  She barely stopped herself from looking at Benji. Not that her restraint mattered. When she scanned the assembled men in the room, everyone was focused on the bed . . . and the child in it. They all knew why it was essential the mission take place as soon as possible.

  Rawls pushed himself up from his chair next to Mac’s and stepped up to the bed. “When’s the last time they took his temperature?”

  “Just before you guys joined the party.” She shook her head at his inquiring glance. “No change.”

  Nobody said anything, but faces hardened and eyes turned cold. Sheer menace crawled through the room.

  Their silent but immediate response lifted some of the burden from her shoulders. They cared about Benji and Brendan, and they cared about righting this injustice. She wasn’t alone.

  Her chest started to ache.

  Zane cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair, running his palms down his thighs. “Okay. If we can’t target public appearances, we’ll have to look at other avenues. What about residences? Offices? Gyms? Favorite restaurants.”

  “Restaurants would be easier.” Cosky’s eyes narrowed, went out of focus as though he was flipping through possibilities in his mind. “Less security. More opportunities to set up an ambush.”

  Cosky was right, but . . . “I haven’t been able to find any restaurants he frequents. Same for gyms. He does have several houses that he spends equal time in—and two office buildings.” Amy swatted back a surge of disappointment.

  Rawls lifted his hand from Benji’s cheek to roll up his eyelid. “Sounds like we’re looking at houses or offices, then. We’ve worked with less.”

  Had they? Really?

  Even if they had, those missions had been conducted on foreign soil. Which meant they hadn’t been breaking US laws. It wasn’t just Link’s security they had to worry about. They had to worry about local police, the FBI, the sheriff’s department—heck, they had to worry about every law enforcement agency, period.

  “Where does he live?” Cosky asked. “You said he has several houses.”

  “He has four places. London, Hawaii, Seattle, and close to Naples. But he splits his time for the most part between Hawaii and Seattle.”

  “Then those are the ones we focus on.” Mac leaned back, locking his fingers behind his head.

  “Right.” Amy opened the laptop. An aerial view sprang up of a sprawling estate bordered on three sides by water. She turned the laptop around and lifted it so everyone could see the screen. “His estate in Hawaii sits on the point of Hualalai, and boasts four hundred feet of private beach access. The house sits back from the water, secluded among the palm trees. It’s three stories. Forty thousand square feet. Reportedly twelve bedrooms and sixteen baths. Two pools, one indoor. Weight room, theater.”

  Rawls whistled. “Nice digs, if you have a hankerin’ for overindulgence.”

  With a slow frown, Cosky rubbed a hand over his face. “It would be easy enough to insert from the water. There’s no perimeter fence along the beach.”

  Nods traveled the room.

  “I think you’ll find the same vulnerability with his Seattle estate.” Turning the laptop around, Amy clicked on another photo. “It sits on Lake Washington, not far from Bill Gates. It has a thousand feet of beach access.” She rotated the screen to show them.

  A pleased hum swept the room. All four men leaned back in their seats with varying degrees of satisfaction on their faces.

  Zane smiled—a slow, gratified stretch of his lips. The skin around his eyes crinkled. “The man does like his beachfront property. It’s like he’s making it as easy as possible for us.” He paused, his gaze steady on Amy. “Any idea which one he’s currently at?”

  Sighing, Amy lowered the laptop. That was the rub. “No clue. The man takes privacy to an extreme. I didn’t find anything current on his movements.”

  Nobody looked surprised. Nor did they look disappointed.

  “Wolf can help us identify which target is most promising.” Mac sent her a reassuring smile. “He’s got all kinds of nifty little spy toys. We just need to know where to aim the satellites. Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

  We just need to know where to aim the satellites.

  Something niggled at her brain, something to do with Mac’s comment—something important.

  It took a minute for the realization to click into place.

  Shadow Mountain had surveillance abilities, even satellites to boost the surveillance. Everything she’d just detailed was likely already known to them. Already under consideration. Her research had been unnecessary.

  Indeed, this whole meeting was unnecessary.

  Mac had to know that . . . which meant what, exactly?

  He’d staged a meeting simply to include her in the planning? Why? To give her a distraction? Make her feel like she was contributing to her children’s rescue?

  Could he really know her that well?

  Chapter Ten

  WOLF LEANED AGAINST the far wall of the command center, waiting for Mackenzie and his men to leave. While Winters, Rawlings, and Kait’s fiancé were okay, at least for nih’oo3oo, Mackenzie set his teeth on edge.

  Like now, for instance, Mackenzie had barreled up to Neniiseti’ before the elder had even made it out of his chair and immediately started flapping his jaw. Where was the patience? The respect? Elders were due the honor of directing the conversations, yet Mackenzie had barged in with questions, concerns, and demands.

  However, Mackenzie’s behavior also gave Wolf the perfect opportunity to slip out of the room unseen. Escape from questions he found no pleasure in answering and demands he found no pleasure in performing. He’d ignored his beniinookee’s order regarding Jillian, a rebellion that had carved a gaping, seething wound in his mind and soul.

  He straightened and pushed himself off the wall only to find Jude at his side.

  His uncle stared at Mackenzie questioningly. “Perhaps Neniiseti’ requires rescue?”

  If the circumstances were different, Wolf would have launched a rescue himself. But worries of dreams, lions, and spirit warnings kept his feet still.

  “Hooxei.” Neniiseti’s voice filled the room. “I would speak with you. Now.”

  Wolf looked up at his name and grimaced. Mackenzie had left, and Neniiseti’ stood tall and fierce. Forbidding black eyes locked on his own.

  Perhaps his beniinookee was not the one in need of rescue.

  With reluctance dogging his steps, Wolf slogged forward, each step heavier than the last. By the time he stood before Neniiseti’, his flesh felt tight and itchy, as though he were a snake about to shed his skin.

  He already knew what the spirit walker wanted.

  “Grandfather.” He bowed his head in respect, aware Jude had tagged along and waited by his side.

  Neniiseti’ ignored Jude, focusing solely on Wolf, his face sterner than Wolf had ever seen it. Wolf shuffled his feet beneath that flat, disapproving stare, feeling as small and defensive as an errant child.

  “Your heneeceine3 walked my dreams again last night. Her dying shrieks still echo in my ears. I tell you again. She cannot stay here. If you will not send her away, I will do so.” Without giving Wolf a chance to respond, he turned and stalked away.

  Dead silence fell in the wake of his exit.

  Wolf fought to unlock his fists and slow the hard, uneven pounding of his heart.

  “I tell you again?” Jude broke the silence, his voice climbing in shocked disbelief. “Again? You ignored a direct or
der?” He didn’t add “Are you crazy,” but the question hung there in the air.

  Wolf unlocked his jaw. “I will not speak of this.” Forcing his boots to move, he headed for the door.

  “Too fucking bad.”

  Wolf stopped cold. Shock whipped through him. He’d never heard his uncle use the white man’s swear words before.

  “You do not ignore an order from the neecee. You do not. Not ever. For any reason. You know this. I taught you better.”

  Wolf ground his teeth and spun, fighting to hold back the rage, the resentment, the hot flush of panic. “This does not concern you.”

  “Fuck you.” Jude’s voice was guttural, his face almost incandescent with rage. Another first. “You are my concern. Everything you do is my concern. You are my son by blood, by my sister’s body, by my teachings. By the hours and hours spent by your side. Do not dare dishonor me with such lies.”

  Wolf dropped his head in shame, hearing the hurt and shock beneath the rage in Jude’s voice.

  What was he thinking? Of course Jude had a stake in this. As Wolf’s uncle and mentor, as head of the Eaglesbreath family and the beniinookee of the Eagle Clan, every action Wolf took reflected on Jude.

  A deep breath calmed him. He took a second for good measure before lifting his head. “Forgive me, nesi. I spoke with the mind of a child.”

  Jude accepted the apology with a single nod. “You will apologize to Neniiseti’.”

  Wolf simply nodded. An apology was a given. Whether it would be accepted as easily by his chief as it had been by his uncle . . . that was not a given.

  Jude’s sigh sounded like it rattled all the way up his throat. He settled a heavy, comforting hand on Wolf’s shoulder. “Where will you send her?”

  Rage stirred again and beat like war drums against his chest. Jude expected him to concede immediately. To send Jillian away. No hesitation. No questions. Just instant acceptance followed by instant action.

  Yet everything inside him, the very core of him—that which had recognized Jillian as his mate the instant he’d seen her—wanted to challenge that assumption. Revolt against it. Keep her by his side.