Down Range (Mills & Boon M&B) (Shadow Warriors - Book 2)

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Yes,” Reza whispered. “Did you find them?”

  “Yes, we did,” Morgan muttered, still following the green dots that were men climbing the goat trail. “There won’t be any more attacks tonight.”

  Jake turned and sat up, facing the Afghan. “Go tell Hamid that Khogani’s men have run back to the mountain. There’s no enemy around the village. Have them stand down and put out the guard watch.”

  “Yes, sir,” Reza murmured, scuttling quickly across the roof to the ladder.

  Jake rolled back on his stomach, pulling the M-4 scope to his eye. “They’re gone.”

  “Yeah, they disappeared over the ridge,” Morgan said. The shot would be too far away, and Jake was right: better to let the survivors of this attack flee back to Khogani. She was sure the Hill leader was going to be pissed. A dark feeling ran through Morgan, a sense of primal satisfaction she’d taken out three of his men. It would be three less for them to fight.

  “We’re going to have to ride at dawn and go after them,” Jake said. He watched as Morgan continued to slowly scan the ridge of the mountain. If he had any doubts she knew her job, he was satisfied now. Her movements, her skills, were as good as any SEAL team member who had his back. She was solid. That took the question that always hung at the back of his mind out of the equation between them. It still stunned him that she was a woman doing a man’s job. And doing it professionally and as an equal.

  Sitting up, his mouth compressed as he laid the M-4 between his arms, Jake knew he had to stop looking at Morgan as less than a man in combat. Tonight, it had been three against one, and she’d dropped all of them with her SIG. That impressed him. Morgan’s behavior was cool, calm and collected. Yet, as he sat there, gazing up at the bright stars of the Milky Way that looked like a river of light across the cold heavens, he worried for her on a personal level.

  Jake struggled not to care for her. He avoided giving his feelings any label. There was no time or place for them. Not right now. Glancing down, he studied her profile, the stock tight against her cheek, still watching. Still waiting. Solid. Morgan was solid.

  “Let’s get down,” Jake told her roughly, his hands numb against the rifle because of the cold. “They’ve hightailed it. Khogani will know we’ll be looking for him at dawn. If anything, he’s planning to leave the area right now. He knows we have drones, and his only escape is under the cover of night.”

  Morgan sat up, crossing her legs, their knees brushing against one another. She rested the AW Mag in her arms as if cradling a baby. “Khogani knows we have drones up 24/7. He knows he can be spotted at night, too.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said wryly, “but we have no drones. No eyes in the sky.”

  “He doesn’t know that.” Morgan stared, frowning at the mountain she could see in the grainy green of her NVGs. “He’ll take to the caves, go through connecting tunnels and probably try and get out of the area that way.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, let’s get down. I want to see if they found any more intel on those bodies.”

  It was only midnight, but to Morgan, it felt as if days had passed as she unrolled her sleeping bag in a room of a deserted home. Jake had insisted to Hamid that they remain together from now on to deter any new threats. They were a team and had to remain together for the protection of the village. She was too tired to argue, taking the room on the left. There was a central room between the two smaller rooms. Jake would probably sleep in the other room on the right.

  Morgan slowly peeled open her Kevlar. Her right shoulder hurt like hell. Shedding the heavy vest, she dug into her H-gear and located a pen flashlight, pulled her dark green T-shirt downward and away from her neck in order to expose her right shoulder. Morgan’s eyes widened as she caught sight of it. Her entire shoulder was heavily swollen from where the bullet had struck the Kevlar. The bright purple-and-red bruising spread out from where the bullet had punched into one of the protective curved ceramic chest plates that fitted into the vest pocket. It looked to Morgan like a huge splat of purple paint as large as Jake’s hand. Grimacing, she released her T-shirt and shut off the light. There was nothing to be done about it. Morgan desperately needed sleep. She pulled herself down into the bag, boots remaining on. She’d use the rucksack as a pillow. The sleeping bag was warm.

  Exhausted, her shoulder aching, her stomach still rolling off and on with nausea, she tried to relax. Jake would arrive soon, and a sense of safety descended around Morgan. She heard the door open and close.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”

  “Room to your left. You take the one on the right.”

  Morgan heard him grunt, the door close and the brush of his boots against the hard packed dirt floor. It was the last sounds she heard, dropping off an abyss into blackness.

  Jake snapped awake when he heard Morgan moan. Or was he dreaming? Instantly, his hand went to the SIG he kept next to his ruck. Silently rising to his feet, he keyed his hearing. Morgan groaned more loudly this time. What the hell was going on? Pistol raised, Jake could see slats of moonlight around the wooden door. It gave him just enough light to see the room ahead of him was empty. The small window in her room shed plenty of light.

  Jake’s eyes narrowed as he saw Morgan clearly. His gaze fixed on her slender neck. What the hell was that on it? He moved to her side, knelt down and gently placed his hand over her left shoulder.

  Instantly, Morgan awakened, gasping.

  Jake grabbed her right hand before she could reach her pistol near her head. “Easy,” he breathed, “it’s me. Jake.” The wild, startled look in Morgan’s eyes disappeared as she jerked into a sitting position, pushing his hand off her shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded, her voice low and raspy.

  “I heard you moaning,” he said, remaining in a kneeling position above her.

  “I was asleep!”

  “Yeah, well, so was I until you woke me up. What the hell is that, Morgan?” He jabbed his index finger toward the right side of her neck.

  “What?” She frowned and placed her hand protectively against her neck. It was swollen and painful to touch.

  “Did you get hit out there tonight?” Jake demanded, worry evident in his eyes.

  “Yes,” Morgan sputtered defiantly. “I took a slug to the right shoulder but the plate protected me. I’m fine, Jake. Let me go back to sleep, will you?” She glared up at him, shaken by his attention. He reached down to his left thigh and pulled out the SOG knife from the sheath. Sucking in a breath, she snarled, “You are not going to slit my T-shirt in half, dammit!” She scooted away from him. Morgan knew from combat first aid, everyone wore a tan T-shirt and if there was an upper-body wound, the medic took his knife and slit it up the middle to get a good look at the injury.

  “Why not?” he growled. “Dammit, Morgan, you’re hurt. Or does that not compute?”

  “It’s just a damned bruise, Jake! Jesus, you’re acting like a friggin’ mother hen! Put that SOG away before you hurt somebody!”

  His nostrils flared. He saw her anger and that stubborn set come to her mouth. “Okay, then you pull it over your head. I want to look at that bruise. It could be a hematoma, Morgan. And that could cause a blood clot and you could die. It needs to be checked out. You know that.”

  “I already looked at it before I went to bed. It’s fine, Jake!” His face hardened even more. He wasn’t taking “no” for an answer.

  “Your choice, Morgan.” Jake held the knife up in a warning position.

  “Damn you! I don’t have anything on under this

  T-shirt!” Her voice broke, and she stared malevolently back at him, just daring him to try cutting the fabric. It was her T-shirt, and she wasn’t about to strip naked in front of him! And then he got a crazy smile on his face. He chuckled as he slipped the SOG back into the sheath on his waist.

  “What the hell is so funny?” Morgan demanded angrily, pulling her knees up against her chest, arms wrapping around them. The care burning in hi
s eyes never left, but she could see another emotion in them she couldn’t interpret. Her heart was pounding, but it wasn’t because she was afraid. It was because Jake was too close and she felt incredibly vulnerable after the night’s action.

  Jake sat back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs. “You. It isn’t like I haven’t seen your breasts before, Morgan.”

  Shocked, she blinked once. And then she started to laugh. Jake’s laughter joined hers. Pretty soon, she was laughing so long that she started hiccuping. It was a release, and she knew it. Hand across her mouth, she felt tears running down her cheeks, she’d laughed so hard. Morgan saw Jake wipe tears from his eyes, too, his mouth pulled into a silly grin.

  Finally, she stopped. Her stomach hurt. The silence settled around them. “I guess we needed that.”

  “Yeah, been one helluva night.” Jake reached out and pushed some of her red hair behind her ear. “All laughing aside, I need to examine your shoulder, Morgan.” He saw her eyes go wide, and Jake finally got it. She felt vulnerable in a way he’d never seen her before. Combat did that to everyone. Especially after a firefight like tonight. And she’d been on the tip of the spear and taken a bullet. Reaching out, he leaned over and murmured, “Babe, you keep your T-shirt on. All I’m going to do is slip my fingers beneath your neckline and ease the fabric to one side and take a look at the area.” He pulled out a penlight from his cammie pocket.

  His breath warmed her cheek and jaw. His roughened fingers gently curved beneath the material. Carefully, Jake pulled the fabric away from her neck just enough to expose her upper shoulder. He was so close to her. Inhaling his male scent, Morgan closed her eyes, tense. Jake smelled good, despite no shower, fear sweat and dirt on his flesh. With his other hand, he pulled the T-shirt aside even more and carefully observed the area. The bruise was located well above her breast.

  Morgan opened her eyes looking up at him. Her pulse was twitchy. Jake was so close…oh, God, too close. She felt blood rushing to her lower body, desire keening through her like an out-of-control flood. Her chest tightened with so many emotions. The urge to lean upward a few inches, tilt her head and close her mouth over his nearly unstrung her.

  “That’s a hematoma,” Jake muttered, barely turning his head, meeting her eyes. Morgan’s lips had parted, her eyes trained on him. Instantly, his body responded. And so did his heart. Jake’s hands froze in place on her T-shirt. Her mouth was bare inches from his, and he inhaled her feminine fragrance. Her expression was shadowed with wariness and longing. For him. And God help him, he wanted her just as badly. What was he going to do? What did she want him to do?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake released her T-shirt, holding Morgan’s mutinous gaze. Damn, every cell in his body ached for her. It had to be different this time. He couldn’t do what he’d done in the past. Before, he’d have just taken what was his, kissed her, loved her. He’d never asked permission from Morgan before, just assumed she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His voice came out husky as he asked, “Morgan, can I kiss you?”

  Swallowing hard, she whispered brokenly, “Jake, I can’t….” And she couldn’t. Emma needed a father who would be at her side no matter what happened in her life. Jake ran when things got piled up with too much responsibility. If she gave in, she’d be lost and never keep control over protecting her daughter. Never break the cycle between them that served neither of them any longer.

  His face changed, sorrow coming to his eyes, his mouth a hard line. But she also saw something else. Maturity. Jake eased back, as if understanding.

  “Okay,” he rasped. “You got your blow-out kit in one of your leg pockets?”

  “Yes, right lower pocket,” she said, her voice unsteady. Every cell in her body screamed to kiss Jake, make love with him. Morgan felt tortured as never before, cursing whatever it was that made them like sex-starved animals around one another. And it would be great sex, but Morgan couldn’t handle the aftermath.

  Swallowing his remorse—and his frustration—Jake leaned over and carefully peeled back the sleeping bag and pulled the Velcro open on the right thigh pocket of her trousers. Every SEAL had two blow-out kits, medical supplies that could save their life. There would be a battle dressing, nasal-pharyngeal tube, Celox, a blood coagulant and other items needed to treat a gunshot wound or a sucking chest wound. He placed the items he needed in a row on her sleeping bag.

  “You need two things for that hematoma,” Jake went on, trying to sound casual. His body throbbed, and he gritted his teeth, trying to will away his physical hunger for Morgan. It was more than physical pain. Jake couldn’t stop the grief he felt in his heart over her telling him no. He hadn’t come in here thinking of kissing her or making love to her. He’d wanted to hold her after seeing she was injured. Yeah, his body wanted sex, but his heart was guiding him elsewhere: to give Morgan genuine care, something he’d never afforded her before. Amanda had taught him that a woman needed to be held, cared for, and that it wasn’t always just about sex. She’d drawn him out of his selfish shell and made him see that love had a hell of a lot more facets, a much broader and deeper landscape. And she’d taught him how to hold their son, Joshua, in his arms.

  New feelings Jake had never realized he’d had came to the surface as a result. That tiny baby boy, so innocent and vulnerable in his large arms and hands, had made him aware of his own ability to nurture another human with pure love. Between his wife and his son, they had changed him for the better. But that wasn’t the man Morgan knew. She only saw the immature boy, and she didn’t realize how much he’d changed and grown.

  Jake had never seen Morgan as anything else other than a sex partner. Sure, he knew how to pleasure her, make sure she enjoyed it just as much as he did. But he’d never extended himself to hold her afterward, to feed her emotionally in another, less physical way. Now he wanted to, and Jake knew he could, but she’d turned him down cold. Their past always hung between them. He’d grown; he’d changed; he’d become more sensitive to a woman’s needs, but Morgan wasn’t about to let him through that barrier from their past to prove it. Jake couldn’t blame her.

  “We’ll start with ice and a pain reliever,” Jake said.

  Warily, Morgan watched his expression in the shadows. Jake seemed tense, and she could tell why. But she couldn’t make love with him now. Her shoulder was a mess, and she was in constant pain. Compressing her lips, she watched him pull out the chemical ice pack and a bottle of ibuprofen. His hands shook slightly. Hell, she felt like so much jelly inside herself right now, too.

  It hurt to see the disappointment cross Jake’s face. What amazed Morgan the most was that he was allowing her to see how he felt. In the past, any time he’d felt threatened, that game face would settle into place, completely unreadable. Detached. Maybe Jake was changing. He’d never asked if he could kiss her before. They’d always come together like hungry, primal animals in the midst of heat. It was volatile, earthy and utterly satisfying to both of them. Afterward, he’d roll out of the sack, get dressed and leave. Morgan needed more.

  Jake handed her two ibuprofen and pulled over her CamelBak and placed it into her lap so she could suck some water after popping the pills into her mouth. When his hand touched her palm, heat seared up her fingers. His touch always brought her pleasure, igniting her lower body, triggering every hungry sexual need she possessed. Morgan thanked him, her voice barely above a whisper. Dutifully, she took the medication, drank water and laid the CamelBak aside.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think to put the ice pack on this,” she uttered, lying down and pulling the cover of the sleeping bag up to her waist. She needed to put something between her and Jake. Her pulse was rapid and rising. He was so damned male that she could feel the grating sensation of longing deep within her. Jake was a consummate lover, and now, of all times, she wanted him for all the wrong reasons. He was a hunger she could never satisfy. Damn.

  Jake gently slid the pack beneath her T-shirt and positioned it over the worst of
the swelling. “None of us think clearly after being shot at. Don’t be hard on yourself, Morgan.” He tried to ignore the way her hair created a halolike effect around her head. There was confusion in her eyes, her gaze never leaving his. Without thinking, he eased several errant strands away from her brow.

  “How’s it feel now?” It usually took about a minute or two for the chemicals in the bag to produce the icy coldness. The pack would remain cold for about thirty minutes, able to markedly reduce swelling. It would allow a SEAL to keep walking after wrapping the ice pack around his ankle and using dark green duct tape to hold it in place. Plus, the duct tape would provide support to the weakened area, as well. With her shoulder, it would be impossible to rig it up.

  “I feel it,” Morgan said, relief in her voice. Her brow tingled where he’d briefly grazed her with his index finger. Jake’s touch had startled her. Frowning, she dug deep into his dark gaze as he knelt on one knee above her. “Thanks. The ibuprofen will reduce the blood-clot-forming possibility.”

  “Yeah,” he said, resting his arms across his knee. Jake felt starved for intimacy with Morgan. He felt driven almost beyond his massive control. Maybe it was triggered because she could have been killed out there tonight. “The ice pack will reduce the swelling.”

  She grimaced. “I couldn’t position the butt of the sniper rifle against my shoulder up there on the roof tonight. Pissed me off.”

  “I knew something was wrong. I saw you grimace once, and it isn’t like a sniper to keep repositioning the rifle against their cheek and shoulder once it’s set in place.” He knew Morgan wouldn’t have told him about the pain or swelling. In the SEALs you didn’t bitch when you were hurt. You just kept moving with the team to complete the mission. There was no whining. It was just part of the price that was paid out in these badlands.

  Morgan touched the ice pack. “God, this is beginning to feel good. Thanks, Jake….” She gave him a grateful look and forced her hand to remain still no matter how much she wanted to touch him. She could feel that powerful, sensual animal energy of his invisibly embracing her. Despite the pain throbbing in her shoulder, the ache building in her core was devastatingly painful to her in another way. Morgan felt needy, like a cat in heat looking for action. It was Jake. Only him.