Final Siege

by Scarlett Cole

  “Whatever you need,” he said as he stood. He should change, too. Probably shower. If Delaney was still the girlie girl those pretty toenails told him she was, he’d probably have time.

  He watched her as she walked … no, sauntered … through the apartment.

  If he was going to survive tonight, he’d better make the shower a cold one.

  * * *

  Delaney shut the door to her bedroom and carefully leaned back against the cool surface. It chilled her heated skin as goose bumps appeared on her flesh. Mac was the only man on Earth who could move her, stir up emotions she’d buried so deep, with the simplest of touches. The kindest of gestures.

  She thought about the way his fingers had wrapped the bandage around her skin with the sparest movements. And the smell of him. It wasn’t his aftershave, but something more … damn … She didn’t know the word … worldly, mature, older.

  Walking gingerly now that she was out of his line of sight, she pulled open the door to her closet where she’d hung the few items she’d retrieved from her mom’s. Bringing anything more would have made it too easy to settle in. To stay. She couldn’t do that to herself—or to Brock.

  In Mac’s absence, she’d done the unthinkable. She’d snooped around the apartment, especially Mac’s room. Not that she’d found anything of major interest at first. There was no obvious sign of any women in his life, but there was a twelve pack of condoms with four missing. It shouldn’t have hurt to realize he was having sex with other women. Of course he was. It wasn’t like she’d been living like a nun in the time since she’d last seen him. But somehow, underneath all the hatred, she’d still always thought of him as hers. And had never found anyone who made her feel the way Mac did.

  Then she’d seen them, three photo frames on the windowsill. And her heart had burst into a million little pieces.

  The first photo was of the four of them—Cabe, Six, Mac, and Brock—all lined up at some swim meet. All young, tanned, and ridiculously good-looking. The second was of the same group, minus Brock—taken recently by the look of Mac’s hair—outside a building with a huge Eagle Securities sign. But it was the third that stopped her in her tracks. It was a photograph she’d never seen, but she knew immediately when it had been taken. It was a close-up of her taken all those years ago on the morning after she’d lost her virginity to Mac in a motel room on their way to her cousin’s wedding in Napa. God, she looked … in love. Happy. Like she’d just had the best sex of her life. She was leaning against Mac’s beat-up truck, the motel sign in the background, wearing a pretty sundress and Mac’s gray zip-up sweater that dwarfed her. The wooden frame was dented and scratched, which told her it had traveled. All these years, he’d kept it.

  Now that he was home in the living room not ten feet away from her, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen it.

  The sound of water hitting the tiled floor of the bathroom down the hall made her jump. The idea of a naked Mac under the hot spray made her heart race even faster. But the thoughts were traitorous. She owed Brock more than this.

  She slipped out of her workout clothes that she’d only had on for ten minutes and pulled out a pair of her favorite jeans. Paired with a white T-shirt and navy jacket, they would have to do. The days of the girly sundresses were gone. Her white sneakers were the most comfortable for her foot. For a moment, she considered shaking her hair loose, but she decided to keep it in a ponytail. Mac had loved it when she wore her hair down, and she didn’t want to do anything to encourage him.

  With a quick flick of mascara and a splash of peach lip gloss, she was good to go. As she stepped out of the room into the hallway, she almost crashed into Mac. He gripped her biceps to steady her. “Jesus Christ,” she gasped. “Do you really need to sneak everywhere?”

  He grinned as he looked down at her T-shirt and then back to her face. “Occupational habit,” he said. “You look great.”

  So did he, but she wasn’t going to tell him that the navy T-shirt fit him to perfection. “This isn’t a date.” It was blunt, but it was the truth. Her heart dropped a little, though, when his grin slipped momentarily as he shook off her barb.

  “I know. But I’m still going to let you know that the pretty girl I once dated grew up into a spectacular woman. Let’s go,” he said, offering her his elbow.

  She took it, but only because her ankle throbbed like a bitch after her yoga experiment. If his arm was firm and muscular, she tried not to dwell on it, and when he offered to hail a cab to take them the block and a half to the Mexican restaurant on Fifth Avenue, she refused.

  As they approached the restaurant, she saw Six was tucked away at the back of the patio, despite there being better tables available.

  “Why don’t we sit up here?” she said, pointing to a larger table with a great view of the street.

  “Lou doesn’t like crowds. You’ll see.”

  “Delaney,” Six said, coming to his feet. “You’re looking a whole lot better than the last time I saw you.” He pulled her into a hug gentler than the last one he’d given her, and she grinned.

  “I’ve showered … I think that might be it.”

  Six laughed. “Let me introduce my girlfriend, Louisa North. Lou, this is Delaney.”

  Lou had long brown hair and bangs that partially covered her eyes. She looked a little nervous, on edge even, until Six ran a hand over her shoulders and the two of them sat back down. “I’m pleased to meet you, Delaney,” she said, tilting her head to the side so her hair parted. “Six has told me so much about you.” Louisa looked at Six and smiled softly. As fascinating as it was to watch Lou, it was the look on Six’s face that made her heart stutter a little. Six looked at Lou as if she was … well, his everything.

  She recognized that look. Mac had stared at her that way too, once.

  It wasn’t long before the table was full of tacos and tequila. As time ticked by, she became more fascinated by Six and Lou. They were so different. Six was loud, and just as funny as she remembered. And Lou was so … reserved. Her interactions with everyone around her were so limited. But as the evening grew late, and the alcohol took effect, she loosened up a little. Delaney was fascinated to learn about the research laboratory she was in the process of establishing. The woman clearly had brains. And ambition. Something Delaney truly admired.

  Delaney did her best to keep Mac at a distance, despite the way he always offered her the plate of food first, their fingers brushing often. His hand kept ending up on the back of her chair, and more than once he twirled his fingers in her ponytail like he used to before snatching his hand away, as if remembering that they were part of each other’s pasts, not their present.

  “Hey, I’m gonna hit the washroom,” Mac said, standing.

  “Me too,” Lou said.

  “Want me to go with you?” Six asked, moving his chair so Lou could climb out of the corner.

  “Nah. I’ll be fine with Mac, right?”

  Mac slung an arm around Louisa’s shoulder. “Better with me than that asshole.”

  Six threw a packet of sugar at Mac and laughed. “Fuck you,” he said playfully.

  “I really like her,” Delaney said as Lou and Mac walked away. “You did good, Six.”

  “I did better than good,” he admitted with a bashful grin that looked a little out of place on the most confident man she’d ever known. “What about you? No boyfriend back here waiting for you?”

  It was a personal question, but she shook her head anyway. “No. It takes a certain kind of man to deal with what I do for a living.”

  “Mac told me you do undercover investigative reporting. Is that what you were doing out in Afghanistan?”

  It didn’t surprise her that Mac had shared where she’d been. “It was. But Mac shouldn’t … he … it’s my business.”

  Six took a toothpick out of the pot on the table and began to chew on it. “Here’s the deal, Delaney. We were all worried sick about you. Mac especially. And we care. Even if you don’t want us to. Not just becau
se of Brock, although Lord knows that would be enough on its own. But we care about you too.”

  Delaney sighed and ran a finger down the condensation on the outside of her glass. “I know you do. But that was all a long time ago.”

  “And yet somehow, when you were in trouble, you asked for him. And, just like Cabe or I would have done, he came running. Because he cares.”

  “But that’s the thing. I don’t even remember asking for him. And I don’t know what to do…”

  Six sat back in his chair and glanced back toward where Mac and Lou had disappeared. “He came because he still loves you, Delaney. He—”

  “Don’t say that.” Her heart couldn’t take it, didn’t want to imagine a path back to him. “He killed Brock. He—”

  “Stop that, Delaney. I let you say it back then because it was what you needed to believe. But you and I both know it’s bullshit. ‘Misadventure’ was the verdict. Not ‘murder’ or ‘manslaughter.’ You want to know why Mac outranks Cabe and me? Why he earned more medals than Cabe and me? Because he has lived every moment of his life in atonement for that day, a day we all wish we could go back and change.”

  Delaney exhaled. “I can’t talk about this. Not with you. Not now.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a silver sedan parked up on the other side of the street. Was it way too much of a coincidence that she’d seen one outside of her mother’s when she’d first gone to see her? Discreetly, she tried to get a read on the occupant, but it was dark, and his headlights were on.

  Six turned and followed her line of sight. “What?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m seeing ghosts. Listen. I appreciate you mean well, but…”

  Six straightened up in his chair, and Delaney saw Mac and Lou headed back toward them. “He’s loved you all these years, Delaney. I am outta here in thirty-six hours on a high-risk job. I know what the stakes are, so does Lou. So, we live our lives by our rules every day, so there are no regrets. I know what you put on the line to do what you do. Mac does too. But if he has no chance with you … ever … because you can’t stop telling yourself that narrative about Brock … well then, you owe it to him to tell him that, move out, and leave him alone. But if that’s not the case, please don’t waste another moment. Life is too short to not love someone with every cell in your body, and anybody with half a brain can tell you two still belong together.”

  Delaney was quiet for the rest of dinner and didn’t think to argue when Mac pulled out his credit card and paid for her food. What Six had said weighed on her mind. Not just the part about Mac’s feelings for her, but the part about him being off to do a high-risk job.

  She hugged Louisa goodbye, even though the funny and intelligent woman seemed a little uncomfortable.

  Six pulled Delaney into his arms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture you,” he whispered in her ear.

  Delaney sighed. “You were right, Six. But don’t worry about me, or Mac. Be safe. Please. I only just found you again.”

  He nodded. “I always am,” he said, standing tall. “Even more so now I have someone to come home to.” His eyes moved to where Mac was hugging Lou.

  Lou and Six hopped into a cab, and she and Mac walked the short distance home. Six’s words lay heavy in her heart and gut. She hated the idea that he was off somewhere that wasn’t safe, yet she fully understood what drove him to do it.

  “You okay, Delaney?” Mac asked, dropping the keys to the apartment on the marble kitchen counter.

  Was she? She felt a little … raw. “I’m not sure,” she replied honestly.

  Mac walked toward her and stopped in front of her before pulling her into a hug. When his lips brushed the top of her head, she let him, anxious to find some kind of comfort … of … something … to ground her.

  When Mac’s lips moved to her temple, she tried to remember why she hated him so much. Why she’d moved across the country to avoid him.

  As they traveled along her cheek and down her jaw, she made a feeble pretense at moving away from him, but his arms held her steadily in place, which was a good thing because her knees felt weak, her breath flighty.

  But when they reached her own lips, when his mouth brushed against hers, it was impossible to deny that Six had been right about her having to make a choice.

  But whether she was supposed to leave or stay, she still didn’t know.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She was sweeter than he even remembered.

  As her lips opened for him and her tongue tentatively moved against his, Mac wondered how the hell he’d gotten so lucky a second time around. When he’d boarded that plane to Germany, he’d just wanted to help her, to get her home safely. But this was more than he could ever imagine. More than he’d allowed himself to hope for. At least, not this fast. He’d imagined spending the next few months gaining her trust, her confidence. Seeing her around—though hopefully not on the arm of some guy whose face he’d have the urge to break.

  But, no. She was right here. Letting him kiss her, letting him hold her, letting him run his hands down that ass he’d seen in tight Lycra and finding it just as firm and tight as he’d imagined.

  Hell … she was coming on to him. And he wasn’t about to say no. Instead, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, savoring the way her body felt pressed up against his. It felt different, better. They’d both changed, but with her back in his arms, everything clicked into place. The way her lips moved, the flavor of her, the way she sighed against his lips. The way she gasped as he touched her.

  When her hands slid into his back pockets, he moved his own to her face and cupped her cheeks gently. “Delaney,” he breathed.

  Mac didn’t know what had come over her, or him, but there was no way he was going to stop running his lips over each and every part of Delaney for as long as she’d let him. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

  As he’d waited for Lou outside the restrooms, he’d seen Delaney shake her head as Six had said something to her. Her face had fallen, Six’s eyes had caught his, and he’d leaned across the table toward Delaney to say something intently that had made Delaney jerk back in her seat. By the time Mac had returned to the table, though, whatever had been happening had ended. For the rest of the evening, Delaney had been less talkative than Lou even, which was saying a whole lot.

  He’d been frustrated that Six had upset her, but given that the guy was shipping out soon, bringing it up had felt wrong.

  Her hands reached up and gripped his wrists, only this time she wasn’t pulling him closer. She was tugging him away. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  For a moment, he could have sworn that tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly.

  “This isn’t going to solve anything,” she said.

  He was torn. Fight her pulling away, but possibly lose. Or let her go, let her have her distance for now, and follow the old battle strategy adage of lose the battle to win the war.

  He lowered his arms but took her wrists in his hands. “Yeah, it’s not, Delaney. But it’s a start. And I’ll take a start over an end any day of the week.”

  “I don’t know what that was. But this”—she slipped her hand from his and gestured between the two of them—“you and I … together physically … was never the problem. Our history is much bigger than that.” She stepped out of his reach and looked over at the table that contained all her work. “I’ve lined up some apartments to go look at tomorrow. I’ll pick the first one that’s available. Good night, Mac.”

  As much as he was sure he could convince her to fall back into his bed physically, she wasn’t ready emotionally. If he got her there before she was fully open to him again, he’d lose her for good. He knew it. So for now, he could be a patient man.

  “I’ll go look with you tomorrow,” he said as she reached her bedroom door. “Drive you around.”

  Delaney shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m really not your responsibility, Mac.”

/>   There it was. Again. She didn’t want to rely on him. And it fucking hurt. Like the bullet wound that had required seven stitches in his thigh five years earlier. Although he wasn’t so sure that his heart could be put back together quite so easily.

  When the door to the room clicked shut, he dragged his fingers through his hair and ran a hand along his jaw. Damn. For a moment, he stayed rooted to the spot, looking at the solid piece of wood with ultramodern handles that stood between the two of them and hating Lochlan’s goddamn apartment.

  Sulking about it wasn’t going to solve anything. He walked to the fridge and grabbed another beer. Yeah, he’d probably had more alcohol than he needed and would probably have the makings of a hangover in the morning, but right now he didn’t give a shit. Of his options, getting drunk and passing out was the least offensive. The others, kicking down Delaney’s door and picking up where they left off until she saw sense, or jerking off alone in his bedroom while he thought about the woman getting naked across the hall, felt stupid and immature.

  He wandered over to the dining room table where Delaney had set up office. He ran his fingers over a book, The Shadow World, by Andrew Feinstein. He picked it up and flicked through the chapters, seeing names, campaigns, and weapons he recognized. It was the sort of book Cabe would love reading. A billion pages long. Delaney had used sticky notes, underlined sections, and folded page corners all the way through. Of course she’d read it from cover to cover.

  Her notes were so orderly. Long gone were the little hearts with which she used to dot her i’s. Maybe, like the hearts, he was something she simply didn’t do anymore.

  A click sounded from the hallway, and the small band of light under her bedroom door disappeared.

  Even though he was wired and horny as hell, he made his way to his bedroom. He paused by Delaney’s door, fighting the urge to knock and go sleep next to her.

  When he got to his own room, he placed his half-drunk beer on the bedside table and shucked his clothes before crawling into the sheets naked. He’d hoped the extra beer would help him sleep. But as he closed his eyes, visions of Delaney in her workout gear filled his mind. As if on autopilot, his dick grew hard. He slid his hands under the cool covers and gripped himself the way he liked. Firm, with a long stroke from base to tip. Memories began to blend. Of her sitting next to him on their surfboards at sunset when they were younger, and a lewder version of her bending forward in her workout clothes. He imagined her riding his dick in that neon sports bra. She’d be wet; she always had been with him. She’d grab her hair in both hands and pile it on top of her head as she slid up and down.