As she bent to fish through a pile of papers, her T-shirt slipped forward, revealing the soft curve of her breasts. Mac sat back in his chair and placed his ankle on his knee. Goddamn, she was beautiful.
“Agricultural supplies. They went straight through Russia, and ended up in Afghanistan. That’s where I was supposed to meet them.” Delaney’s voice trailed off at the end. Amazing how she was filled with so much confidence and presence, and then showed just the slightest hint of vulnerability.
Mac stood and put his hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the chair. She’d been on her feet a while, and the color had left her face, probably at the thought of what she’d been through. “Delaney was supposed to meet the arms delivery north of Kunduz.” He looked over at Cabe, remembering their own experiences in the volatile city. “Kunduz carries the nickname ‘the hive of the country.’ The province is the biggest producer of crops—wheat, rice, and others—in Afghanistan. It makes sense to label the weapons as agricultural supplies. But it’s also the major link between provinces and a major drug trafficking route into southern Tajikistan, so it’s critical it remain in government control.”
“What makes you think this is all connected to what happened to you since you got back?” Sherlock asked.
“I’m not sure. But it seems too coincidental. It’s clear that someone tried to get rid of me over there. Then I fly back here and I am suddenly under attack. I don’t know what else to think, really. Is it possible that I just have a crazy stalker? Sure. It’s possible. But there was something about the guy.… He was cold. Distant. Aren’t stalkers generally obsessive? They want to be your friend? Lover, maybe?”
Ghost smiled and nodded. “You gotta admit, though … you’re a good-looking girl. It’s a possibility.”
And Mac had to admit he was a millisecond away from punching Ghost in the teeth.
“I get what Delaney’s saying,” he said, forcing Ghost to look at him. “There was nothing remotely familiar about any of their interactions. Back to the point, regardless of whether this is all connected, I think we can help. Cabe, can we chat for a sec?” He nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. “The rest of you, take five.”
Cabe followed him and helped himself to yet more coffee. “What are you thinking?”
“Your team isn’t due out for another ten days, but part of my team needs to start work on the Uruguay project for that new shipping company in Montevideo, helping with their security plans. Especially for those routes via the African coast. First thought is that we contact Andrew Aitken at the CIA again. This information might lead to something that will help them put Lemtov away, so it all feels connected. Then we apply everybody to this to help Delaney blow the doors off, get everything out in the open. By sticking around her, we can help Delaney—”
“Help me with what?” Delaney said as she approached him.
“Just talking resources,” he said. “We want to help.”
Delaney shook her head. “You’re doing enough letting me stay here, helping me think through it, giving me a new set of eyes. I don’t need anything else.”
Cabe threw his arm casually over Delaney’s shoulder. “Here’s the deal, sweet cheeks. We’re helping whether you like it or not.”
A huff escaped her as she shook her head. “I don’t need—”
“Shut up, Delaney,” Cabe said softly, and Mac smiled. He’d been thinking the same thing, but would never have said it out loud.
“Fine, but I’m staying right here so I know what you guys are plotting.”
Mac laughed. “We’re not plotting. Just trying to work around our clients and see if we can reach out to our government agency contact to ensure what we do is aboveboard.” He turned to Cabe. “I’m just wondering whether we could mix up the resources a little. Sherlock could probably do this without me anyway. Was thinking we could tag Sherlock as lead and send Ghost as planned, but borrow Harley and Bailey from your team. Leaving you, me, Ryder, and Lite as support here until your job kicks in. Then we could do a handover. Ryder and Sherlock can head down to Uruguay, and you can pick your guys up and head out. I’ll decide where I need to be then.”
Delaney nudged him with her shoulder. “I don’t like that you’re rearranging not just your lives but your work for me.”
“Happy to help,” Cabe said. “And agreed. We’ll make it work. Now, should we sit down and figure out a plan?”
Delaney finally smiled. “That sounds like fun.”
“It will be. But first I’m gonna call Aitken to get the wheels moving.” Cabe headed to the living room to round up the troops who were currently out on the balcony.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, those sweet eyes of hers locked on his. “I hate to admit it, Mac, but you still mix me up just as much as you ever did. I mean it. Thank you.”
Unable to resist, he slid a hand around the back of her neck and gently tugged her toward him to kiss the top of her head. “You’re welcome, Delaney.”
CHAPTER NINE
It was two in the morning, and Mac wasn’t in his room. She hadn’t heard his footsteps in the hallway, but he was like a freaking ninja that way. He’d scared her at least five times that day alone, creeping up on her when she least expected it. Like when she’d been pouring coffee and the shock of finding him standing directly behind her had caused her to spill it all over the counter. When he’d laughed, she’d suggested putting a cowbell around his neck.
Mac had suddenly appeared at her side, too, when Ghost had approached her on the balcony, beginning a conversation she was sure was going to turn into an invitation for a date she was in no mood for. His brow furrowed in a frown.
“You want to go check those policies we walked through in your first week of training?” Mac said.
Ghost said nothing, but nodded before he walked back inside.
Cabe watched until the door slid closed. “Because you and Six set such a great example,” he said gruffly before he took a bite of an apple.
Mac raised his middle finger at Cabe who put his hands up in surrender. “Fine. But you can’t break rules and expect everybody else to honor them.”
Now, even more than at the time, she knew they were talking about her and Louisa. Dating clients.
Mac wasn’t the man she’d remembered. She’d demonized him, and no matter which way she thought about it, her mom was right. Perhaps it was time to find the courage to ask Mac what exactly had happened on that cliff that day and find a way through it, past it. It might mean letting go of Mac once she knew, which was almost as difficult as letting go of what happened to Brock.
He was smarter than she remembered. When they were younger, lying around the campfire, she’d tell him about all the books she’d read, and he’d say very little. She’d always assumed he’d found them a little boring and had assumed that the fighting man she’d heard had gone off to war was just an adrenaline junkie looking for his next fix. But he wasn’t. He was more measured than he had been. More thoughtful. More … commanding. Seeing him lead the group into a plan of action for the next few days was nothing short of remarkable. She appreciated that it included equipping her to defend herself. And learning to fire a gun had excited her way more than it probably should have.
And then the kisses … and the touches … and the constant, gah … just being there. Breathing. Placing a cup of coffee in front of her when she hadn’t even mentioned how badly she needed one. Or his putting a plate of her favorite Oreos on the table without saying a word about how she’d once binge-eaten a whole box of them while crying about the C she’d gotten on her English Language paper.
He was too much. He was … she couldn’t let him be everything.
The click of the lights in the living room told her he was on the move. She heard no footsteps, but wasn’t surprised when there was a gentle tap on her bedroom door and then it opened. Mac stood there, a slash of moonlight coming in through the blinds and cutting across his face. He looked dangerous, and for a moment she could imag
ine what it would be like to come up against him, soldier to soldier.
“I want to talk to you about those lines,” he said, pulling his T-shirt over his head in one swift move.
His abs rippled, and while she knew it was wrong to stare, her mouth went dry. He looked like a man about to pounce. Her body betrayed her as her thighs tightened. She watched him slide the belt through the loops of his jeans, folding it in half and holding it between his hands. She should tell him to stop.
“I don’t like them, Delaney. And I don’t like that you drew them based on something you think you know but won’t talk to me about.”
Large fingers undid the button on his jeans, revealing more of the trail of hair that led down from his navel. He’d had a fine body when they were dating, broad shouldered from swimming and strong thighs. But now he was breathtaking.
Words failed her as she realized that despite wanting to tell him she couldn’t do this, having Mac back in her bed was exactly what she wanted, what she needed. It made no sense, but as sure as he was standing there, she wanted to watch him slide the dark blue denim down his legs.
“So, here’s the deal. I just got you back, and I couldn’t bear it if anything happens to you. I’m a patient man, Delaney,” he said, finally allowing his jeans to fall to the floor. Navy blue boxer briefs with a white waistband gripped his hips, every inch of his body defined muscle. “I can even wait for you to find it in your heart to forgive me.” He stepped closer to the bed until he placed a knee on it and crawled toward her. “But don’t make me wait to hold you. To comfort you. To show you physically I’m here for you. Please, Delaney.”
Mac came to a stop several inches away from her. Using his finger, he drew an invisible line along the top of the comforter that she was snuggled beneath.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice husky from want of him.
“There’s your line, Delaney. It’s as real as the concrete and steel reinforced one you wanted, because I won’t cross it. You need to come to me,” he said, his voice rich with emotion. It moved her to her very core. “I’m going to be right here. All night. Every night. But I won’t move an inch closer to you. You’re going to have to close the gap, Delaney.”
True to his word, he lay down on top of the covers. The air-conditioning quietly whirred, and she knew it was cool above the blankets. Thoughts raced around her head as the bed dipped ever so slightly in his direction. She braced herself from rolling up against him. What she believed, what she wanted, and what she needed no longer seemed clear. Closing her eyes, she tried to pretend he wasn’t there, but the scent of him and the warmth she could feel through the thin sheets were a constant reminder of the impossibly handsome man lying next to her. No other man had ever lived up to him, even when she’d hated him.
They’d been good together. They’d be good together, it was undeniable.
The past—feelings of guilt and of this being wrong—tried to intrude, but she shook her head to clear them. Those memories had no place in a darkened room in bed with Mac.
“I’m confused, Mac,” she confessed as she studied the ceiling. It was wrong to leave him hanging when he’d just said all those beautiful words to her.
Mac turned onto his side, she could feel it, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see he placed his head on his bicep. “I know you are, Buttons.”
“Why do you still call me that?”
“Thirty-two of them. Did you know that?” he asked.
“Thirty-two what?” She turned on her side to face him. His dark blue eyes, the same color as his denim jeans, looked almost black in the half light.
“Buttons. I counted each one as I undid them. It seemed like an important detail to remember from the first night I ever got to sleep with you. It was the last thing I ever did without knowing what it felt like to be deep inside you. Each one of those buttons was pretty damn epic to me.”
Her heart melted a little at his words. She’d forgotten how easily they came to him. To them. When had she lost the ability to share what was on her mind with another person? To trust someone she was with? The tips of her fingers drifted over the line on the sheet, and Mac placed his fingertips on top of hers, respecting the line.
“Fifty-three,” she said.
“Fifty-three what?” Mac asked.
“Seconds. That’s how long it took you to open them. I never knew how many buttons there were, but I remembered that it took you just under a minute to open them all.” She slid her hand a little further across the line, and Mac took hold of it in his.
Memories of that night flooded her mind. How her heart had raced as they’d pulled into the parking lot of the motel where Mac had arranged for them to stay. How she had waited in the car as Mac had gone to pick up the keys. And how, while he’d been gone, she’d quickly eaten a Tic Tac and run a brush through her hair. But nothing could replace the memory of how his fingers had felt when they’d gently slid the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders to let it slip to the floor.
She wasn’t that young girl anymore. She wasn’t naive enough to think that what they had could last forever. But maybe there was a way for them to do this that would hold her heart safe, and even bring her closure.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted the covers and crossed the line.
Mac opened his arms wide. “You’re safe, Delaney. Every part of you is safe with me, I promise.”
“You can’t make those kinds of promises,” she said as she pressed up close against him. “Nobody can. Let’s just try taking one night at a time, and see where we end up come morning.”
“You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, but we both know that you and me, that this … it’s unfinished business. I’m not going anywhere until it’s finished, no matter how long that takes.” Mac placed a finger under her chin and gently tipped her head backward until she was looking straight at him, his lips millimeters away.
Delaney’s heart beat furiously in her chest at the thought of what might happen next. His eyes told her that he wasn’t going to stop until they were both naked and spent in each other’s arms. But she also knew that none of that would even begin unless she kissed him first, unless she fully crossed the line with not just her body, but also her heart and her mind.
Unable to wait a second longer, she pressed her lips to his, savoring their firmness. When his mouth opened she brushed her tongue against his. She knew her advantage would only last for a moment, but it had to be enough to hold her through what would follow.
“Delaney,” Mac moaned as he threaded his fingers into her hair, pinning her in place with his strong hand.
He surrounded her with his scent, with his warmth, with his strength as he rolled them, blankets and all, so that she was lying on top of him.
She pressed her weight into her hands on either side of his head while he cupped her face gently. “You just ruined the line,” she said, softly.
“I think that was all you,” he replied, pulling her down until their lips met again.
* * *
He’d dreamt about this moment. The thought of her, the memory of her … it had kept him going, kept him alive through the toughest days of his service. When he thought he was beaten. When he was hurt. When he wondered what the hell he was boarding another plane to another country for. Instead of allowing those thoughts to take over, he’d thought about the two of them. She’d become his reason for battling on and through, until he was rescued or returned home. When he weighed up his life objectively in the darkest moments, she was his only piece of unfinished business.
And now, here she was, back on top of him, bundled up in his stupid comforter that he wanted to strip from between them. Along with the baseball shirt she slept in that had driven him crazy, and his own boxer briefs, which were doing him a solid favor by holding his dick in check.
Her hair hung softly around her face and was long enough to tickle the skin on his chest. He wouldn’t have moved for a million bucks.
Whe
n her lips had been on his, he’d felt all the puzzle pieces fall into place. Her eyes were wide open and focused on him, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was the shimmer of tears, which hurt as much as healed him. Because he felt it too. It should have been a simple kiss. But it was everything.
Taking her in his arms, he rolled them again so she was back on the bed and he was above. He rose onto his knees. “You okay, Buttons?”
Delaney smiled softly. “I am. It just feels … big.”
Mac grinned and looked down at his dick. “That’s because it is big.”
She laughed, exactly as he intended. “I meant this,” she said, gesturing between the two of them. “You and me.”
He cut her off from saying any more by assuming a push-up position above her and kissing her sweet mouth again. He’d never get enough of her, and he wanted to spend the night reacquainting himself with every part of her. “No thinking,” he whispered against her lips. “You can think all those thoughts of yours in the morning, but for now, let me love you.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
Mac climbed off her and went to his jeans, grabbing a condom out of the back pocket and throwing it onto the bedside table.
“Was I such a sure thing?” she asked.
“No. I was just extremely hopeful,” he said, sliding his boxer briefs down his legs. Her eyes followed his actions, and like any hot-blooded guy, the look of appreciation and hunger in her eyes once she caught sight of his dick was enough to have him hard as iron. But he had things to do first that involved his lips and her skin. As much as he couldn’t wait to slide deep inside her, he’d missed all the other fun stuff too.
He tugged the comforter off the bed as Delaney laughed. God, he’d missed that sound. So much about her had changed. Her legs seemed longer as he gripped her ankles and pulled her a little closer to the bottom of the bed. The baseball shirt rode up her tanned thighs, giving him a glimpse of white lace panties. Her dark hair spread out on the pillow, she looked like a siren ready to lure the sailor in him to the rocks. She certainly had the capacity to do him serious harm, yet all he could do was show her how much she meant to him in the hope that she wouldn’t.
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