He gently placed Sloane on her feet and headed toward the trailer. The rancher’s son had been here for at least a day because he’d built a fire, the burned wood and ash now cold.
Damon disappeared inside the trailer.
With a quick look around and no sign of a soldier popping out to surprise them, she hobbled across the grass covered clearing. Stepping inside the trailer, she found Damon in front of the fridge with the door propped open.
“There’s clothes in the drawers by the bed,” he said as he pulled out deli meat and mayo, setting it on the counter beside a loaf of bread.
Sloane slid past him and entered the cramped bedroom. Damon had been in here first, searching for clothes before he attacked the fridge. She picked up a pale blue t-shirt between her fingers laying on the bed. She sniffed it. Smelled clean.
Tossing a look over her shoulder, she said, “There’s a shower in here.”
He nodded.
Compact in size, like most RVs, the bathroom had a toilet, small wash basin and an ample shower stall. She turned the nobs and adjusted the water temperature. Before it was comfortably warm, she stepped inside and let the water cascade down her body. She lathered and quickly washed her hair. Stepping out, she grabbed a bath towel hanging on a short rack and wrapped it around herself.
When she exited the bathroom, Damon motioned for her to join him.
“Feel better?” he asked.
Suddenly, he was a man of few words. They’d avoided being shot and found a moment of reprieve at the rancher’s camp. He should be relieved, but instead his aura seemed grey.
She slid onto the autumn hued bench seat in front of the kitchen table. Damon had already heated a bowl of soup and made her a sandwich. The smell of the chicken soup struck her senses and she dug in, famished from not eating for a couple of days.
“Are you angry with me for some reason?” she asked, then took a bite of the ham and cheese.
Damon finished his meal and slid out from the seat across from her. “I’m going to take a shower.”
She blinked and dropped the sandwich on the napkin he’d served it on. “Wait a second. What’s wrong? You haven’t said two words to me since we left the ridge.”
Damon turned and leaned his firm ass against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms. He glared at her. “Do you have any idea how close you came to dying today?”
Sloane snapped the tab on the cola he’d set by her sandwich. “I didn’t though, did I? Are you mad at Green or mad at yourself?”
The bulk of his muscular body tensed as he leaned toward her with his arms crossed. “I never should have given you that weapon. You should have followed my orders and continued without me.”
She met his angry glare with one of her own. “Sure, and what if I wasn’t there? What if the soldier I killed got a lucky shot and winged you, or worse—killed you?”
“That’s my job, lady!” he bellowed.
“To get shot? I don’t think so.”
His expression creased with an angry scowl. Similar to the one he’d shown the day the exercise started, when he faced off with the General when no one else would. “You might be able to twist your dad around your finger. But you sure as hell are going to listen to my orders when I give them next time. Do you understand me?”
She should have been incensed. Livid as hell, but for some unknown frickin’ reason his anger did just the opposite. Sloane wanted to fling herself at him and tell him to ravage her. Nuts! She was not the kind of girl who liked to be dominated, but here she was, nearly panting at the half-naked Lieutenant bawling her out.
She settled back in her seat. Composed, though her pulse raced. “You’re kinda sexy when you’re mad.”
“Sloane.”
He clamped his jaw and all the sharp angles on his face accentuated the incredibly handsome man in front of her. His biceps rolled off his rock-hard shoulders, his chest a washboard of muscle. When she wouldn’t submit, he tilted his head, apparently not backing down.
“I’m sure your mother wasn’t insubordinate to your father when they worked together.”
He’d said it just as she took a sip of the cola. Choking down the liquid, she set the can down on the table and cleared her throat. “Are you kidding me? Mom drove Dad crazy. She gave him the gears anytime she could. They fought all the time, always trying to best each other. To this day, they still go a few rounds. Adam and I usually scatter when that happens because it’s like a firefight without running out of ammo.”
Damon relaxed a little and propped his palms on the edge of the counter. “Do they take it out on you?”
She laughed. “No, of course not. But their makeup sex is really loud, irritating, and goes on for an entire afternoon. So, Adam and I get the hell out.”
His lips twitched as he tried to suppress a laugh.
“What?” She chuckled. “It’s true. Mom and Dad aren’t that old. In fact, I think their sex life took an upward spiral when we moved out.” Sloane twisted the soda can in her hand to look at the label. “They’ve been in love all these years. And it only gets stronger. They can finish each other’s sentences. When they agree on something, neither Adam nor I can break their pact.” She shrugged. When Damon remained quiet, watching her, she said, “My aunts—Mattie, Lumin, and Nina have the same bond with their husbands. For some reason, when it seems that no one can be loyal or trustworthy to one person in SpecOps, my uncles break the mold. They adore their wives. But my mom and dad are different.” She sighed and gazed at the green laminate covering the table top.
With Damon’s anger at her not following his orders defused, he asked, “Why are they different?”
“I guess—” Sloane paused, unsure whether she should be sharing family secrets. “My mom and dad didn’t fall in love like a normal couple. Whatever normal is. Mom had problems when she first came to the States.”
“Problems?” Damon shook his head.
“I told you her first husband was abusive. Mom had a really bad case of PTSS. She kept trying to keep my dad at a distance so he wouldn’t figure it out, but when the Blood Shark came after her, it resurrected her demons.” She quenched her thirst with another sip of cola. “Dad had his own demons as well.”
“Your dad?” Damon looked astounded.
She nodded. “Everyone seems to think he’s some kind of superhero, but he had his issues. He’d been a SEAL fighting in active combat far longer than most men. Too long. The way mom described it to me, Dad had lost his empathy. Too many missions turned him into a killing machine. He was so hardcore, combat had become like an addiction. When he wasn’t killing bad guys, he was screwing random women by the boatloads.” She chuckled to herself. “Mom called him a wild stallion.” The same thoughts Sloane had about Damon. The kind of guy who didn’t mind having friends with benefits, but nothing long-term. Her father had a string of lovers. Damon’s was probably just as long.
Damon cleared his throat and darted his gaze to the faux walnut wallboard. “That can happen,” he said quietly.
“Screwing random women or addicted to combat?”
He gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Both.”
“Why?”
Damon inhaled deeply and then let it out in a slow exhale. “Not exactly sure, but we turn a lot of emotions off when we’re tasked on a mission. Sex turns them back on. Your dad was probably the same.”
“Aunt Marg told me Dad loved my mom for months before he broke down.”
A handsome grin crossed Damon’s mouth. “Broke down? You mean admitted to himself that your mom was special.” He blinked and paused. “Realized there was something about her, your dad couldn’t ignore, or didn’t want to ignore anymore.”
Her heart fluttered with Damon’s words. Maybe it wasn’t his words, but the way he looked at her when he said them. Having a bad case of the hots for this SEAL wasn’t a good idea. Nor was imagining he would break his promise to keep his hands off her because of the difference in their ages or that he had taken up the sword to
protect her. SEALs didn’t break under pressure, especially with a weak excuse like sexual tension. Sloane gave herself an internal shake and continued with the story.
“A few months after Mom arrived in Coronado, she had a bad episode. The Shark had skinned a woman in Dad’s garage and left her heart on the coffee table. Mom lost it, but it was then that Dad woke up. He knew he loved her, but more than that, he knew she needed him to walk through the smokescreen she’d erected to keep him away. Mom cracked his armour and he’d go to the ends of the earth to see her whole again.”
She glanced up at Damon and his gaze softened.
“Mom’s parents were dead. She had a half-sister she didn’t know and Uncle Greg was JTF2—”
“He’s Canadian?” Damon asked, surprised at the revelation.
“That’s another story, but yes. Anyway, Dad wouldn’t give up on Mom and he made her face her fears and get help. Proved to her that he’d never abandon her.”
Damon blinked and shook his head. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that. Your mom seems fine to me.”
Sloane smiled. “She is now. The truth is, all my aunts and uncles have had their fair share of close calls. I guess it brought them closer together. When you look into the face of death, you realize how important life and love really are.” She tipped the can to her mouth and finished the cola. “Suppose that’s a lesson you’ve learned too. I’m sure you’ve faced off with the Reaper a time or two. From the outside, we look like one big happy family, but there were sacrifices—hard ones—along the way.”
“Are you talking about Captain Cobbs?”
Sloane folded the paper napkin around the crusts of the sandwich. “Kelsey is like my sister. She still grieves deeply for her father, even though my dad has always been there for her.”
Damon crossed his large arms once again and stared at the floor. “At the barbeque, I kind of got the idea that your brother doesn’t want Kelsey to marry the guy she’s seeing.”
“Really? What did he say?”
Damon lifted a hand in warning. “Sorry, classified guy chatter.”
“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re right, though. Things have changed. At least for my brother. And maybe for Kels, too. She didn’t want to tell everyone Morgan asked her to marry him. It’s a secret, but maybe it’s a secret because she’s not sure.”
He nodded.
“Adam and Kelsey in love. In a way it feels a little weird because we’re so close, but why not?”
A small smile puckered his lips. “Why not,” he echoed. “If they’re happy.”
Home, she missed being home and she’d only been gone two days. Sitting here talking with Damon, she’d almost forgotten they weren’t out of danger.
“I’ve been going on about my family. What about you. I mean—that tattoo on your arm. What is it? Why did you get it?”
Damon’s lids partially closed as he turned a look down his left shoulder. “Had it inked after Masyaf. It’s a phoenix rising from the ashes. What about you? Any tats?”
“You’ve been gawking at my nakedness enough. You should know I don’t have any.”
He grinned. “None that I’ve seen.”
“My dad would kill me if I got a tattoo. Seems every sailor has one, but Dad never did. Not until he met Mom. After they were married, he had Snow White tattooed over his heart, and then he added two little dwarves on Snow White’s skirt with Adam and Sloane written on each of them.”
“Snow White?”
She nodded. “That’s what Alpha Squad called Mom. It was her team name.”
“You have a very interesting family.”
“I’m sure yours is too.” She paused. Sloane couldn’t imagine losing her mom. Although everyone said she was more like her dad, her mom had faced immense trauma, yet seemed so in control and noble. “You must miss her,” she said, referring to his mother.
“I think about her. With all my sisters, it was like running a sorority house, but she had no problem bringing down the hammer.” He laughed. “Guess I had it easy, being the youngest and a boy.”
“Your dad needs you. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Probably not, but for sure you’re going home tomorrow.” The affectionate smile disappeared. “You’re my responsibility, whether you want to accept that or not. I need to take you home. Put you safely in your father’s arms. It’s where you belong.”
Sloane watched as he closed the bathroom door behind him. A few seconds later, the sound of the shower sprayed against the plastic surround.
She finished her soup and gathered the dishes, placing them in the sink. Returning to the bedroom, she stared at the clothes on the bed. A t-shirt, pair of shorts and socks. Shoes would be tricky, but she’d wear oversized sneakers if she could find some.
A moment passed and the food settled in her stomach. Exhaustion seeped through her body.
Instead of pulling on the shirt, she crawled onto the bed and sighed at the creature comfort the mattress provided. Not to mention the soft feather pillow under her head. She’d just rest here until Damon was finished his shower, and then she’d….
Chapter Nineteen
Damon squatted in front of the tiny cabinet below the wash basin and found an extra towel inside. Wrapping it around his hips, he palmed the Corian countertop and swiped a hand across the foggy mirror. He had to decide whether to keep going or wait here for nightfall. Darkness would provide the cover they needed, but he had no doubt that they would only make it part way in the truck before a squad of soldiers would have the road blocked off.
He swept a hand through his wet hair. The more time they spent on this mountain, the greater the chance the General’s men would apprehend them. The GPS might give him some options. He opened the door of the bathroom and stilled.
Sloane lay on the bed fast asleep, her shapely, bare legs slightly bent. The towel had unraveled and exposed the beautiful curves of her body, soft and irresistible. Gripping his jaw, he rasped his palm against the bristled hair on his face.
She was more than a fun-loving, sassy young woman. She’d proven that on the ridge today when she’d killed two men. But when Green pointed his pistol in her face, Damon’s guts had twisted into a knot. An itchy trigger finger, and Sloane could have died.
Right there.
In front of his eyes.
The thought of her lifeless on the ridge made him cold. Absolutely stone cold. If her heart stopped beating, so would his.
Confused as to why lust had morphed into something deeper, more profound, he continued to watch her sleep as if the answer lay in the gentle rise and fall of her breasts.
As much as he wanted to join her and get a five minute nap, he needed to look at the rancher’s GPS.
Damon dug in the front pocket of his jacket and found the device. Sitting in the reading chair between the kitchen and bedroom, he turned on a small light after pulling the shade down. Searching the tracks left in the GPS’s memory, Damon knew how they’d get off this mountain. The General had satellite imaging of the mountain, but the rancher’s GPS revealed the mountain was covered in small roads. Too many for the soldiers to set up blocks on all of them.
Leaning back in the chair, he rested his head against the wallpapered interior and closed his eyes.
He blinked, aware he’d fallen asleep and been awakened by a sound.
Sloane stood before him, her olive skin shimmering in the soft glow from the wall sconce.
“I need you.”
Before he could resist, she reached over and released the twist of towel around his waist. She stared at him, more pointedly at his cock, and with her burning gaze it became erect.
Ah, shit. Sliding his gaze down her body, he paused on the moisture gleaming on her inner thigh.
“I can’t help it,” she whispered. “Every time I see your body, I want you inside me.”
His pulse pounded a chaotic beat. In a rush, she was in his arms and he strode the few steps down the hall and laid her on the bed. Her th
ighs swayed open and the moonlight seeping in the tiny window shimmered on her slit. He didn’t expect her to grip him around the waist and pull him onto the bed. With one roll she straddled him, looking down into his eyes.
It didn’t take long for the wetness between her luscious thighs to find the crown of his head. Damon’s cock began to pulsate in response, wanting to sink inside her channel.
“Sloane—” He gripped her lithe upper arms. “I know what this is, and you’ll regret it.” It’s a natural response when pushed to instinctive levels. Carnal cravings are one of those basic elements. The truth was, he’d been pushed there, too. “You wouldn’t be doing this if today was just another routine day.”
“Wouldn’t I?” she whispered. “Or are you politely trying to tell me you’re not interested.”
She made a move to shuffle away and his hands held her fast, though his mind teetered on doing the right thing.
“I might not show it, SEAL, but I’m scared. Scared to death, and I don’t want to feel scared anymore. I want to feel safe.” Her gaze searched his. “Is it wrong to feel safe here with you?”
Sloane swayed her hips a little, but it was more than enough. Her silk drenched him, the yearning just too damn much to refuse. A burning trail of heat shot through his body, straight to his core.
“Refusing you would be torture.” He brushed his lips against hers.
Then her tongue and his sought each other out. Carnal need blinded him. His mind flared with desire feeling her breasts pressed against his chest.
Her hands burned his skin, trailing down his chest to wrap her fingers around his shaft.
Damon’s hands drifted to the hollow in her back and she leaned away, holding herself up with her palms and pressing herself against him, sliding against his erection, taunting and pleasuring him, pushing his desire past anything he’d known.
His mouth gaped open for more air as her clit circled the crown of his head. “Oh fuck, you feel so good, Sloane.”
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