Deep Into Trouble--An Unbroken Heroes Novel

by Dawn Ryder

  Not one little bit.

  * * *

  Dunn Bateson had priorities in life.

  The media liked to take stabs at defining them from time to time, and all that did was make him smile. They thought he was motivated solely by profit margins.

  They were wrong. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t pay attention to his bottom line, because he did. Business was a challenge, one that barely fed his need to sharpen his teeth. But there was one thing he considered more important than money and that was family. He looked at the email from his aviation division on his helicopter. Well, his west coast one anyway. Having ready transportation at hand was a necessity in his business. The aircraft was accounted for and returned with a thank-you. The gratitude might turn into its own form of payment at some point and the media hounds could call him whatever they wished for thinking that way.

  Favors needed to be repaid. It was just a fact, one he’d be a fool to overlook. In this case, he’d given one out, and he would expect Kagan to remember it, if the time came when Dunn needed something from the American government.

  But that wasn’t what snared his attention tonight. He stood and took a tumbler of Scotch with him to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that adorned the side of his office. Aberdeen had its share of stone buildings, a testament to the history of his country. The buildings reminded him how important history was, and that meant family to him.

  Saxon Hale was on the run, and his brother didn’t know. Sure, it wasn’t his blood, and, honestly, Vitus Hale owed him, too, but in an indirect way. It had been Greer McRae who reached out to him for Vitus Hale, and Greer was kin. Dunn took another sip of the whiskey, enjoying the burn before he went back to his desk, his decision made. He punched up a file, and dialed the number.

  “Drinking alone again?” Vitus Hale hadn’t lost any of his brass.

  “By my choice,” Dunn offered with a heavy coating of smugness.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m going to share something personal with you.” Dunn took another sip as Vitus waited. There was a soft sound near him, one that made Dunn smile because he knew he’d called in the early morning hours for the east coast of the U.S. Vitus proved himself worthy of his history as a Seal by answering the phone without hesitation.

  “You were going to share something important?” Vitus prompted him.

  “Family is everything.”

  Vitus made a sound of agreement. “Why do I get the feeling this is about my brother?”

  “Because you aren’t dense,” Dunn offered with a smile. “I thought you’d like to know that your brother borrowed my Las Vegas helicopter and landed it in the mountains. Seems he has a witness who can confirm the Raven’s identity, and Tyler Martin has almost caught him twice.”

  “You’re right.” Vitus tone had hardened. “I want to know that. The damned fool should have called me. Martin will be able to piece together that flight plan at some point.”

  “When you see him, tell him this for me,” Dunn continued.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Tell your brother never, ever, disturb a lady during her bubble bath.”

  There was a long pause before Vitus spoke. “Right. I don’t want to know the details.”

  Dunn killed the call and wiped the file off his computer from the security camera at his mountain lodge. Honor was the only true thing that a man owned. Saxon Hale’s bride would be mortified to know she’d been filmed but in this case, it might just get her husband the help he needed before Tyler Martin and Carl Davis made a widow of her.

  Maybe.

  Which only meant he needed to do something about helping ensure the outcome was the right one. The world was full of unfairness, and it was his personal pleasure to outsmart that reality whenever possible. He wore the scars of his own brush with that side of life.

  For a moment, Dunn felt the chill that still seemed to radiate from his past. In a way, it had become a sensation he enjoyed because it meant that his heart wasn’t completely dead.

  He slowly smiled and took another sip of his drink, killing the shiver with the hard bit of firewater. The rest of the world didn’t need to know about his weakness. As far as they were concerned, he was heartless. So he was going to insert himself into the game and make sure Carl Davis didn’t win.

  He pressed a button on his phone, speed dialing his flight-control manager.

  “I need to fly to Vegas.”

  * * *

  Saxon enjoyed the wee hours of the night.

  The world was quiet, and pretty much only the bad guys and the badge holders were out. It also gave him the chance to look in on his witness while no one was awake to critique his interest in her.

  He slowly buttoned his shirt, hating the way the fabric felt against his skin.

  Ginger was sound asleep. He stood near her bed, watching her chest rise and fall. Her eyes were closed, so he allowed himself a moment of unguardedness. The sight of her in sleep did something to him, something he didn’t want to define because that would just lead down a path of temptation he didn’t need.

  Still, the scent of her skin was teasing his senses.

  She smelled good. She’d felt even better, especially her hair when he buried his face in it. That idea pushed another one of his buttons, only this one was a hot one, and his cock twitched, thickening, hardening.

  He was fucking out of line, and she deserved better from him.

  “Don’t.”

  Saxon froze as she spoke. Ginger opened her eyes and pegged him with a look that was far more knowing than he was used to seeing on anyone except his brother and his men. Damned if that didn’t impress him.

  Just about as much as it scared him.

  * * *

  “Just … don’t go there,” Ginger told him as she sat up.

  He’d covered her up, but the blanket slipped down as she moved.

  “I knew what I was doing, so … no need for guilt.”

  He’d finished with his shirt and was shrugging into his shoulder harness. She didn’t recall him taking the thing off or putting his gun on the bedside table. Heat teased her cheeks because she sure recalled the way she’d been desperate to get to his skin. That part was crystal clear.

  “No you didn’t, Ginger,” he informed her. “An operation like this often leads to—”

  “Stockholm Syndrome.” She supplied the clinical term. She’d surprised him and decided that it gave her a punch of much-needed confidence. “Sorry if you feel used.”

  “Goddammit, Ginger.” He was suddenly there beside her, the bed rocking as he captured the back of her hair. “You deserve better.”

  He was using that commanding tone that no doubt accounted for just how effective he was as a special agent. Ginger felt the boldness that seemed to awaken only for him stirring inside her. She really liked the way it felt. She was pushing him, and he was breaking open a shell she hadn’t realized she’d been living inside of.

  “You are better than any man I’ve ever known.”

  He tensed as she spoke, recoiling from her. “This is my job.”

  “Except that you’ve made it a lifestyle.” And it made her mad. “You’ve forgotten how to have fun. I’m naked, the bedroom door is closed, we’re supposed to be having … fun.”

  She grabbed a pillow, swinging it full force at his head. He’d had his gaze locked with hers but still caught the motion and raised an arm to block it. The pillow curved around his forearm. She lifted her foot and flipped over onto her side to land a good kick against his backside. With the pillow in the way, she scored a direct hit.

  Saxon reacted instantly, jerking around and grabbing her ankle. She pulled her legs back out of instinct, and just that fast, he was back in the bed with her. Ginger grabbed another pillow and socked him in the back of the head with it.

  “And you also…” she declared as she lifted the pillow up for another go, “have a stick up your ass that you’ve named ‘duty’.”

  Saxon flipped ove
r, proving just how strong his abs were before he was diving at her to prevent her from hitting him again. She ended up tackled onto the foot of the bed, in the darkness, the smell of him wrapped around her, delighting her. She flattened her feet on the mattress and used the strength in her legs to heave him upward while she shoved her hand against his jaw and pushed his head to the side.

  He rolled off her, landing on the bed beside her, but she heard a deep, amused chuckle coming from him.

  “What? You think a librarian can’t wrestle?” She grunted with her victory and flashed him a smile. “Small town, means lots of guys who go off to the military in search of a bigger life come home and teach the rest of us what they learned in basic training. It’s called fun.”

  Saxon stared at her from where he was sprawled on the bed alongside her. Enough moonlight was coming through the skylight to wash his face in silver.

  “Fun … huh?”

  There was a warning in his tone. As in he-was-about-to-do-his-best-to-even-the-score sort of tone. She had about half a second to try and evade him before he was on her and tickling her.

  Ginger squealed as she tried to gain some leverage to escape.

  “Yeah … this is fun!” he exclaimed as he found her sensitive spots and dug in.

  She couldn’t catch her breath because every time she dragged in a lungful, she ended up squealing it back out again. The man had an unfair advantage of seeming to know just where to torment her unprotected body.

  The light suddenly flipped on as Dare Servant looked through the sights of his gun and down the barrel at them. Ginger was pretty sure her face went up in flames and she knew for certain she heard Saxon cuss.

  “Might be a good thing all the way around that you two are hitched,” Dare mumbled before he pulled the door shut and left them.

  With the light on, it felt like the moment burst, leaving her in the grasp of cold reality. But that wasn’t what hurt. It was the sight of Saxon withdrawing behind an unreadable mask, and it made her grateful for the fact that she’d reached for him and hadn’t missed the chance.

  “You bring out the best in me,” Ginger said.

  She stared into his blue eyes as he dropped his guard and looked at her in astonishment.

  “Don’t say that.” He sounded like he truly meant it and kindly so. He wasn’t exactly the cuddly sort, and yet there was compassion in his gaze. It wrapped around her, tugging at her heartstrings. “I’ve been a lot of things that aren’t pretty, but I know when I dropped the ball. You’re my witness. I should have been able to keep the line tight.”

  “Except”—she stretched out and pulled the blanket around her bare body—“you’re a street team.”

  He scoffed at her and reached across the space between them to smooth the hair back from her face. Her tongue got stuck to the roof of her mouth as she watched the way his gaze followed his fingertips, like touching her completely captivated him.

  She’d never had that sort of effect on a man and it swept her reason completely aside.

  He’d settled onto one elbow. “Don’t make excuses for me, Gin.”

  “Actually, I’m making them for me,” she offered with a shrug. “This is your job. It isn’t your fault I’m grasping at the moment in an effort to hold onto life.”

  It was a depressing little fact. One that killed the mood of the moment as she was forced to face the music. In her case, it just might be winding down.

  “Don’t.”

  His tone had sharpened, becoming commanding once again. He moved and cupped her chin, keeping her from breaking eye contact. “Don’t toss in the towel, Gin. I will not let anyone take you out.”

  He meant it. She heard the confidence in his voice but all that did was horrify her. “Maybe you shouldn’t get in the way.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She shook off his grip and scooted out of his reach. “It means I know how far the Feds will go to protect their sources. Seems really stupid for you to get killed along with me. The odds are not in my favor, and I know it. Okay?”

  He caught her up against him with a motion that was sharp and fast. The bed rocked and before it was finished swaying, she was locked against him. She was so freaking aware of him, it was like her very skin was sensitive to his presence. It felt like someone had plugged in the Christmas tree lights for the first time. Her senses were overwhelmed, the magic of the moment off the scale.

  “There is no way I will leave you.” His tone had deepened, stroking something inside. She felt like every muscle she had was so tight, it might just snap. Anticipation was flooding her, drowning everything except her fascination with him.

  And she fucking loved the feeling of being on the edge, poised, ready, so certain, and then again, absolutely clueless because she just couldn’t think. But she held back.

  “I wanted to hold the line tight between us.” He stroked her cheek. “You’re better than I deserve. My hands are too dirty to put on you, and all I want to do is touch you.”

  He held back because he respected her. It was a deep compliment, showing his honor. She’d never thought she’d come face to face with true gallantry. It stunned her, leaving her silenced as she stared at the sincerity in his eyes.

  It was absolutely humbling.

  “You’re everything I ever hoped to find in a man.”

  She just couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him. He clamped her against his frame while he tilted his head and claimed her lips.

  Ginger withered, unable to contain the sheer amount of sensation inside herself. She had to move, needed to press against him. She had never realized why her breasts were soft; it was so they could press against his chest while she kissed him back with every bit of hunger she had gnawing at her insides.

  She was ravenous.

  And so was he.

  Saxon captured her head in his hand, holding her in place as he kissed her like he owned her. Pressing her mouth open and plunging his tongue inside to stroke hers in a blunt suggestion of the sort of no-holds-barred intimacy he wanted to demand of her. His arm had been around her waist, but he stroked her lower back right down to her bottom, curling his fingers around one cheek and pulling her into contact with his erection.

  Solid, strong, immovable. Things she hadn’t realized were missing until now. She felt the difference now, bone deep, and it broke something loose inside her.

  “I can feel that.” His tone was just as dark as the night around them, and it stroked her appetite.

  “Feel what?”

  He made a sound under his breath that was a cross between frustration and longing. He shifted, bringing them more in alignment and very deliberately cupped her breast.

  “You tremble when I touch you.”

  She shivered, certain that one touch was hot enough to brand her skin.

  “Stop saying that like it’s a bad thing.” She moved her body against his in a greeting, an enticement, something that was instinctual. Her brain was rapidly shutting down, leaving her at the mercy of her impulses. “I’m still alive, and I want to feel everything.”

  “I can do that for you, baby,” he rasped. “Make you feel.”

  She honestly couldn’t think of a better fate, at least not while he was there to share it with her.

  She slipped her hands up his chest, feeling him quiver beneath her fingertips. “I feel you responding, too. That’s not the mark of a callous man.”

  He drew in a deep breath, his eyes closing as she slipped her hand up and onto the back of his neck. When he opened his eyes, she witnessed the need there and something that cut straight into her heart.

  She laughed under her breath, enjoying the sight just as much as the feeling of being against him.

  He pushed her back and straightened back up so that he could stroke her. Saxon Hale knew a hell of a lot about petting too. He used those strong hands to stroke her from neck to hipbones, in a long, smooth motion that made her breath catch. She was caught between the rapture his touch produced an
d fascination with the way he watched her.

  Like he owned her.

  Maybe in that moment he did. It was a willing submission on her part, sinking into the bed and letting him cup her breasts and gently knead them. Her nipples drew into hard points, proclaiming just how much she enjoyed being his pet. His lips curved with satisfaction a moment before he ventured lower and spread her thighs wide. He was sitting there on his haunches, once again keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

  And once more, she rebelled.

  Ginger curled up and opened his fly. She kept going until she had her thighs locked around him and his cock deep inside her. He sucked in a deep breath, cupping her hips as she wound her arms around his neck. If there was a definition of perfect, that moment was it. Ginger wanted to savor it, delay the climax that was charging toward her, but her body refused to listen. Not when he was deep inside her. Remaining still was impossible. Instinct ruled, driving them both toward the friction they craved.

  Pleasure ripped through her as she felt him beginning to erupt inside her. That hot, spurting of release that somehow deepened the orgasm rippling through her insides. She forgot to breathe. Forgot everything except the need to cry out with pleasure. His or hers, there was no clear separation, so she rode the wave while clinging to him.

  * * *

  Saxon had dressed again while she was still only half aware of the rest of the world. She cracked her eyes and looked at him checking his gun.

  “Can’t get caught with my pants down,” he offered softly.

  “Except that you have been,” someone said from the shadows.

  Saxon whipped around as he yanked his gun free and leveled it at whoever was in the doorway. Ginger had to peek under his arm as she bit back a little cry of lament. Whoever was there needed to die. A light came on.

  “Vitus,” Saxon growled. “I almost shot you.”

  The man in the doorway offered them a shrug. There was a look on his face that made it clear he was amused and nothing else. “Almost doesn’t count.”

  “Right, second place is first loser,” Saxon answered with an ease and frustration that sounded second nature.

  Ginger hugged the blanket close. “Friend of yours?”