“You’ll probably quit moaning in your sleep now.”
“And waking you up.”
Jake smiled a little and slowly rose to his full height. “You didn’t mean to. I just wish, Morgan, you’d have told me earlier you’d been hit.”
Seeing real concern in his eyes, she whispered, “Jake, I’m so used to being hurt on missions, I just didn’t think.”
Understanding, he started to turn away.
“Wait…”
He halted and slowly turned his head, meeting her shadowed eyes. “What?”
Morgan took a deep breath. “Why did you ask to kiss me, Jake? You’ve never asked me in the past.”
A grimace pulled at one corner of his mouth. “You always accused me of being self-centered and never caring about anyone but myself, Morgan. That and running when things got too hot to handle.” Weariness coursed through him. “I don’t know…. I wanted you to want the kiss as much as I did.”
A ragged breath escaped her. “Why the change, Jake?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never seen you wounded before, Morgan. It pulled on me in ways I’d never felt. I…” He raised his gaze to the low, dark ceiling, trying to find the right words. “I wanted to comfort you, was all.” And then he dropped his gaze to hers. “When I asked to kiss you, it wasn’t about sex, if that’s what you were thinking. I just wanted to take your pain away. Maybe hold you for a while and maybe you’d feel better.” Just as he’d held Joshua when he cried in his crib at night and Jake would go in, slip his hands around his tiny son and hold him against his chest. Joshua always stopped crying and Jake began to understand the value of human touch, human compassion.
“I…didn’t know…”
“I don’t want to make you feel any more miserable and upset than you already are with me being around.” Jake lifted his hand. “Get some sleep, partner. Tomorrow is coming early.”
Morgan lay there alone in the silence for a long time before sleep overtook her. Something remarkable had shifted between them. She was too exhausted and emotionally strung out to figure out what it was. Whatever had happened was new. And good.
The last thought Morgan had as she dropped off to sleep was Emma needed a father. One who would not run if she got sick and needed his continued support. Had Jake stopped running from personal responsibility? If she could believe the care that burned in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice that said all he wanted to do was hold her, comfort her, then Jake had made a monumental shift and change.
Time would tell, but as Morgan plunged into sleep, her heart reacted with intense love for him. Because she’d always loved him. She’d never stopped loving him. But now that feeling was intensified by his tender concern toward her. It wasn’t just about sex. It was one human responsibly caring for another and wanting nothing in return for it.
Morgan jerked awake when she heard the door creak open. Sitting up, her hand automatically going for her SIG, she saw Jake come to a halt in the doorway. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she realized sunlight was pouring brightly into her room.
“What time is it?” she muttered, throwing off the sleeping-bag cover. The ice pack slipped down through her T-shirt and flopped out onto her lap.
“0900,” Jake said, coming over with a plate in his hands. “I let you sleep in.” He knelt down and handed her the plate and a fork. “Here, breakfast. Eat.” He noticed the confusion in her eyes, her hair tangled, making her beautiful to him. Jake quieted his need for her.
“But we were supposed to ride at dawn!” Morgan protested in a strained husky tone, looking up at the window. She took the plate, their fingers touching momentarily. “Thanks…” There were five fried eggs, some goat meat and thick, dark slices of hot bread on the plate. Her mouth watered. Crossing her legs, she set the plate in her lap, starved.
Jake sat down, one leg tucked beneath him, the other pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around it. “I got a call from Vero at 0400 this morning,” he told her, seeing how her cheeks were flushed. The night’s sleep had helped. Morgan’s green eyes were clear this morning, not muddy-looking like last night. “They got one drone up and working.”
“That’s good news!” She used the warm, fresh bread to mop up the broken yolks on the plate. Jake’s thoughtfulness touched her deeply.
“Yeah, because right now, that drone has spotted Khogani about twelve miles south of us up on that mountain. He’s continuing to head south, moving in and out of caves and tunnels. The drone is catching him out in the open, but not long enough to launch a missile at him and take him out of the fight.”
“Thank God, they got one drone up and working,” Morgan whispered, relieved. “Why aren’t we going after them, then?”
Jake twisted his head so he could get a good look at the side of her neck. The bruising darkness was still present. “Let me look at that hematoma when you’re finished with breakfast?” He waited for her to give him permission. She had finished off the meal and set the plate and flatware aside.
“Go ahead and check it out.” Morgan found her voice, sounding husky. She sat relaxed as he eased his fingers beneath the collar of the fabric. Her skin reacted hotly to his grazing touch. And then her breasts tightened. Worse, her nipples hardened, and she groaned to herself. She knew Jake would see them pucker against the fabric. Damn. And when Jake stood up on one knee, his face so close to hers, she unconsciously held her breath for a moment. Morgan felt the material being gently moved aside. The ache in her breasts increased. He was being extremely gentle, and it affected her deeply. Looking up at his solemn face, Jake’s eyes narrowed as he assessed the hematoma, she released a softened breath, trying to hold on to her escaping emotions.
“What do you think?” she managed. Morgan was going to die of embarrassment. She’d turned down his kiss, but she couldn’t keep her traitorous body from telling him differently.
Jake brought her T-shirt back into position, easing the material back into place along her shoulder. Jake sat back down on his other leg and said, “The swelling’s reduced by about fifty percent. That’s good news.” It took everything he had not to stare at her nipples pressing against the T-shirt. Her cheeks burned a bright red, a hue he’d never seen on her before. Jake didn’t want to humiliate Morgan or make her feel embarrassed. And, yeah, he sure as hell wanted to cup those beautiful breasts of hers, feel their firm roundness in his palms, place his mouth over one of those nipples and send her into another world of heat and wanting.
Getting close to Morgan was like touching fire, and his damned body had a mind of its own. He swallowed hard, kept his game face in place, as if nothing were wrong.
Jake placed the medical items from her blow-out kit nearby. He reached for it, hoping Morgan didn’t see the fine tremble of his hands, and said, “You need two more ibuprofen” and handed them to her. Dragging over her CamelBak, Jake placed it in her lap.
This morning, Morgan appeared fragile. He’d never seen her this way. Getting shot deeply affected everyone. It was just a question of how much and for how long. The fire that was usually in her green eyes was extinguished. It seemed that the small things he did for her made a difference. He’d seen the warmth and gratefulness in her eyes when he’d brought her breakfast. And when he’d come so damn close to her, he’d seen vulnerability in her face, as if she needed him close to her, as if he represented safety to her right now. He knew he could give this to Morgan.
SEALs were great at protecting others even though he knew Morgan didn’t want that from him. She’d felt smothered by him two years ago when he’d tried to protect her, and she’d fought it. Morgan didn’t need a man like that. Jake was beginning to understand the finite difference between him being tender toward her versus being protective. Every human, he was finally beginning to understand, needed another human being when they were hurt or down. Being sensitive, being tender and solicitous, was different from being an overbearing guard dog. And he clearly saw Morgan responding to his care. It made him feel damn good about himself. And he
r.
Jake knew from experience that coming so close to death wasn’t a pleasant or easy place to go. No one wanted to die. And he knew how important it had been for his teammates to be more solicitous toward him when he’d been hit, knocked six feet backward, slamming into the ground, taking two bullets to his chest. Only the Kevlar plates had saved him, but Jake got a whole new perspective on the fact he wanted to live, not die. That one time had changed him forever. Every day became precious and to be lived to its fullest extent. More important for Jake, it was to be lived honestly, unselfishly.
Morgan took the ibuprofen and drank the water. “What is the plan now? Are we going after Khogani?”
He barely shook his head. “Vero wants us to stand down for twenty-four hours.” He saw Morgan cock her head, confusion coming to her eyes. “I gave him your medical status report.”
“Dammit, Jake. You shouldn’t have. I can ride with this hematoma. I want Khogani!”
Grinning a little, he enjoyed the fire in Morgan’s eyes. The way she set that mouth of hers, he braced himself for more heated arguments. “I’m the sniper team leader. If I think you can’t push the butt of that AW Mag into your shoulder correctly, it means you can’t get off an accurate shot. Vero agreed with me. There are very few of us SEALs who haven’t taken bullets to our Kevlar, Morgan. This is the first time for you and you’re going to have to trust me…trust us, on this decision. Today, I want you to ice pack that area. I’ve got three packs in my third-line gear we’ll use, too. It will reduce the swelling enough, I think, so that we can leave tomorrow just before dawn.”
“Damn,” Morgan whispered, angry and helpless. Of all things! Frustrated, she muttered, “I’m not going to be bedridden, Jake!”
His mouth quirked. “Far be it from me to force you to stay in bed.”
His eyes gleamed, and Morgan caught the implication. All her anger dissolved. “I’m just worried Khogani will get too far away. That we won’t be able to catch up to him, Jake.” Giving him a pleading look, she reached out and gripped his hand resting on his long, hard thigh. “Please, let’s go after him? I can ride! We have to close the distance gap on him.”
He felt the warmth of her strong fingers across his. Morgan could be damned persuasive when she wanted to be. Picking up her hand, he held it gently between his own and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Sorry, babe, you’re grounded.” Jake reluctantly released her hand, saw the shock of his kiss registering on Morgan’s face. Did he see desire in her eyes? Jake couldn’t be sure, and he forced himself to his feet. “Every woman in the village has been boiling hot water all morning and filling that copper tub at Hamid’s place for you. Let’s get you over there. You can take a hot bath, relax and then I’ll tape that ice pack on your shoulder. Okay?” He held out his hand toward her.
A bath…
Morgan was stunned. She knew Hamid’s wife had the hand-beaten copper tub, but it took hours and many kettles and buckets of water for a bath. Not only that, it burned up precious wood supplies that were always in short supply. The women had probably worked since dawn so that she would have a warm bath. She could wash away all the crud, dirt and fear sweat off her body. She could wash her dirty hair. “Th-that was so kind of them,” she said, her voice mirroring her emotion.
“Yes, it is. You’re a heroine around here this morning, Morgan. The people wanted to thank you. I think every house has been boiling water in their largest kettles, walking them up to Hamid’s house.” He smiled tenderly down at her. For a moment, Jake saw tears in her eyes. And then she looked away. He had been touched by the people’s generosity of this village, too. Morgan had earned this gift from them.
“Did you know,” Jake said in a quiet tone, “that they found ten grenades on each soldier’s body? They were climbing that wall last night to wreak havoc on this village. Khogani’s men were planning on running down each of the streets, popping the pins on those grenades and launching them into the houses. If they’d killed you, Morgan, they might have gotten away with it.” He saw the information sink into her, her eyes widening with shock over the possibility.
“My God…” Morgan managed, her voice going hoarse. “I didn’t know….”
He smiled a little. “So? Are you ready for a hot bath with real soap? I always keep a bar of it in my ruck.” Morgan’s face went soft, her lips parting as she took it all in. She lifted her left hand and wrapped it into his strong fingers. The many calluses on Jake’s hand matched her own as he easily lifted her to her feet. She stood close, feeling light-headed for a moment. His hand tightened firmly around hers.
“Okay?” he demanded softly. Morgan had been through a lot. Vero was right: they needed a twenty-four-hour stand-down in order to get her back. The Commander wanted to medevac her to Camp Bravo, but Jake knew Morgan would throw a shoe on that order and adamantly refuse to allow it to happen. He’d argued Morgan’s case and had won her a semireprieve. She’d never know, however. Right now, all Jake wanted was for Morgan to have a low-stress day. And out here in the badlands, that was damn near impossible, but he was going to see to it she was protected. He wasn’t about to let anyone or anything get close to her. Even if Morgan hated his protection, he was going to be that damned big guard dog whether she liked it or not.
Chapter Fourteen
The last thing Jake did that night was check on Morgan. She was fast asleep, lying on her side. For a moment he stood in the doorway, feeling the drive to simply lie down at her back, hold her close against his body. Protect her. Let her heal. Scowling, he knew it wasn’t meant to be. He walked through the darkened, silent house, the mountain winds blowing furiously across the valley.
The bath had worked miracles for Morgan. Jake was profoundly touched when he was called to take a bath, too. It was dirty water, but, God, it was warm and he didn’t care. Anything to get the stink off him was great. The unscented soap had come from his ruck. It was better to smell like soap than stink. He wearily pulled off the Kevlar vest and dropped it next to his sleeping bag.
Tonight, Morgan didn’t have to wear the ice pack. With cold packs and ibuprofen, the affected area was healing, the swelling down by a good 60 percent. She showed him earlier she could jam that AW sniper rifle into her shoulder, stock tight against her cheek, no problem.
Smiling a little, he placed his SIG next to his ruck, the M-4 next to his Kevlar. Everyone was relaxed because with the drone up in the sky watching and tailing Khogani, the villagers knew he would not attack tonight. A quiet, safe night. For once. Jake shrugged out of his cammie shirt, wearing his clean, tan T-shirt, trousers and boots to bed.
Jake lay awake, his head resting on his ruck. His mind whirled with so many details. At dawn, they were leaving with Reza to ride up the southern flank of the mountain, heading into harm’s way. Only one drone was on station for a fixed time. A drone could stay on station a helluva long time, but not forever. He was uncomfortable with the situation, but there was nothing he could do.
He worried about Morgan. She wasn’t herself. It was no wonder since she was still fighting through being shot and not dying as a result. Jake had seen fellow SEALs’ Kevlar vests take a hit for them, and it took days, usually weeks, to work out of the terror of nearly dying. Finally, Jake dropped off to sleep, feeling safer than he had in a long time, the drone giving him that space.
Morgan screamed, “Emma! Emma!” The sound jerked her out of her sleep and upright. A sob broke from her lips as she automatically reached for her pistol.
“Morgan?”
Jake’s worried voice sheared through the darkness and her confusion. Still trapped within the insidious nightmare, vulnerable, she sobbed again, fingers wrapping around the pistol. As she started to raise it, she felt a man’s strong, firm fingers grasp her wrist.
Jake dropped to one knee, gently guiding her hand and the pistol downward, away from them. Morgan’s sobs tore at him. Dammit! She was reacting to the shooting. Oh, he’d cried, too, after getting shot. Jake had walked far, far away from the te
am compound, found a place to hide and sob out his fear of dying. No one had heard him. But now he heard those same raw sounds clawing out of Morgan’s throat and recognized them for what they were.
Easing the pistol out of her fingers, Jake whispered, “It’s all right, Morgan. I’m here. You’re okay….” And he unchambered the round in the pistol and set it aside where she couldn’t reach it.
Torn between the virulent nightmare and Jake’s hand on hers, Morgan gulped unsteadily. Her hair was mussed, strands sticking to her drawn cheeks, tears dampening her skin. “Emma…” The sound came out strangled. Taut.
“Come here, babe…” Jake sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. He was alarmed at how badly Morgan was trembling. Was it a nightmare combined with reaction? And who was Emma?
Without a word, Morgan buried her face against his chest, her fingers in a fist against his shoulder. “Shhh, it’s all right, all right….” Jake kissed her hair, inhaling the clean scent among the strands. And then Morgan lifted her tear-stained face and looked him in the eyes.
“Talk to me,” Jake coaxed thickly, framing her face, digging into her marred, confused eyes. “What were you screaming about?”
Jake’s hands anchored Morgan, brought her back from the edge. She’d never been shot before; it shook her to her soul. Clinging to his glittering, dark eyes, she kept trying to speak. Kept trying to form the words. Only rasps, half cries, rose out of her constricted throat.
With a shaking hand, Jake pushed the hair away from her face, his palm wet with her tears. “Hold on, Morgan. Hold on.” The wild look in her eyes scared him. Jake had never seen Morgan like this. “Dammit, focus!”
Down Range (Mills & Boon M&B) (Shadow Warriors - Book 2) Page 13
