She groaned.
The water beckoned her.
“Don’t even think about it.”
At the sound of Nate’s voice, she jumped, the gun falling off her lap to the ground.
“Christ.” He sprung to pick up the weapon, tucking it in his pack before turning back to her. “You could have shot yourself. Or me.”
Heart pounding from the scare he’d given her, she glared at him. “You could have announced yourself instead of barking at me. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Truce.”
She nodded. “Did you find anything?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Her stomach dropped. “I was hoping you’d say no.”
“There’s nothing for you to be concerned with. It’s only one man.”
He said it as if reading off the lunch menu at a restaurant. Casual, unconcerned. “You saw him?”
“No, but I know he’s there.”
Great. An enemy they couldn’t see but knew existed. Not reassuring at all. “What are we going to do?”
“Make a camp. Tend to your wound.”
“There’s still a couple good hours of daylight left. Shouldn’t we keep moving?”
He unzipped his pack. “No.”
“But won’t he find us?”
“He already knows where we are.”
Macy’s stomach dropped to her feet. Of course he did. He’d been hunting them for God knows how long. “Why hasn’t he made a move?”
“Thrill of the hunt. Toying with us. Take your pick.”
She shuddered. “Not helping.”
Nate was busy setting up the tent. “I have it under control.”
“Then why do I feel like a sitting duck?”
He finished the tent, tossed a sleeping bag inside. “No sense in hiding. He’s probably watching us right now.”
Macy wrapped her arms around her waist. “You’re creeping me out. What kind of monster does that?”
Nate moved to her side and rested a hand on her leg. “Do you trust me?”
She met his gaze. How could she not trust this man? He’d saved her life. Put his own at risk for her. “Yes.”
“Then let me handle this. I know what I’m doing.”
“This happens a lot as a bodyguard?” She asked with a faltering smile.
“I was a Navy SEAL before I became a…bodyguard.”
Her brows lifted in surprise. Not that she should be surprised. Obviously, there was more to this handsome man than meets the eye. A SEAL. Did that make him sexier or what? Definitely made her feel safer. SEALs were tough SOBs.
“A SEAL, huh?” She asked, giving him a thoughtful look.
The corner of his mouth lifted in an adorable half-smile. “Feel better?”
“Yes.” And she did. A little anyway. The fact someone was stalking them still lingered in the back of her mind. “Do you have a plan, Navy?”
“I do. Get you settled and when night falls I’m going hunting.”
She sobered. “You’re going to hunt this guy? What happens when you find him?”
“Better if you don’t know. All you need to worry about is resting that leg and healing.”
Right. If only it was that easy. If something happened to him she would be on her own. The odds would definitely be against her without him.
Pushing those thoughts from her head, she gripped his hand. “Just come back to me, okay?”
****
Come back to me.
The words echoed through Nate’s head as he prepared to go find the bastard playing with them. He’d never had anyone waiting for him to return home except for his family. And they understood the risk each of the boys took every time they accepted a job. With five of them in the Wolff family it was a constant.
He’d managed to sidestep Macy’s request and knew she noticed, although she didn’t say anything. He wasn’t one to make promises he couldn’t keep. Odds were he’d come back, but the risk remained. The pressure he felt right now in his chest was exactly the reason he didn’t get involved in serious relationships. Just too damn much. His brother had left behind a fiancé and she fell apart, her life blasted to pieces in a split second. And they were the ones picking those up. He couldn’t do that to a woman. Couldn’t walk out the door and leave her behind, wondering, worrying, hoping he came home. Nope. Too much stress. Better if he remained single so he wouldn’t break someone’s heart.
Then why the hell did Macy’s words keep echoing through his head? She was a survivor. If anything happened to him, not likely, but possible, then she would be fine. He’d make sure of it. She’d have weapons, a map to safety. Hell, he’d leave his sat phone so she could contact his brothers. They’d drop everything to bring her home.
Irritation marked his movements as he checked the magazine in his Sig. Full. Good. With luck, he wouldn’t have to use it. This op called for stealth. Hand-to-hand combat. His K-Bar. Right now, he looked forward to releasing some pent-up tension. That only made him more annoyed. The woman was messing with his head and she wasn’t even awake to do it.
Fuck.
His brothers would kick his ass for letting a woman—a charge, no less—get under his skin. Then they’d kick it again just for good measure. And he’d deserve the beating. His focus needed to stay sharp or shit would happen. Bad shit.
He slapped an extra magazine in his Kevlar vest, shoved his K-Bar into the sheath attached to his thigh and grabbed his night vision goggles. He refused a last glance at the tent where Macy slept and melted into the darkness.
Time to go hunting.
Chapter Eight
Ellen Wolff traced the rim of her coffee mug with her finger as she stared into the calm, dark waters of Bleu Lake. It was named by Prince Napoleon Beauregard decades ago for its deep blue color. Legend had it that during his travels to America he stumbled across the lake by accident and became so enamored by its beauty he nearly left his noble title in France to live on the lakeside. His lovely wife convinced him to purchase the lake, rename it, and build a vacation home so they could visit the Americas when they wanted to. As luck would have it, a fire burned the home to the ground and the Prince and Princess never visited again. The remains of the vast estate could still be found buried near Evan’s house.
A loon called to its mate in the distance. Ellen smiled. She loved this time of morning. The water glistened like glass except for an occasional ripple from a bug landing on the surface. Over the trees the sun rose, promising another warm day.
She settled back into her Adirondack chair, letting the peace of the early morning comfort her before she began her day. First on her to-do list was to visit Dani. Kell had gone somewhere with her yesterday but neither of them would share where they’d gone. All Ellen knew was that ever since their return both had been quieter than usual. Especially Dani. Since Ryan’s death, she has spiraled downward, letting her health go and barely leaving the house unless forced. Ellen understood grief and how it crippled you. Heck, she struggled to get out of bed some days hers was so overwhelming. Losing her son weighed on her every second of every day. But she didn’t let the boys or Bailey see it. For them, she remained strong. Sticking to traditions, Sunday dinners, Tupperware in their fridges upon their safe return home. Even if it tore at her heart when she opened her Tupperware cupboard and saw the set she’d reserved for Ryan which she’d swear still carried the scent of his favorite casserole.
Chicken and biscuits. Baked in her own creamy sauce with homemade biscuits baked golden brown on top. Ryan had loved it since he was a toddler. She’d made it so many times she knew the recipe by heart. As she did with all her son’s favorites. Bailey, on the other hand, preferred the simpler things like homemade vanilla ice cream topped with fresh strawberries. Her job as a cartographer didn’t take her to dangerous places all over the world like Ellen’s boys. But that didn’t stop Ellen from filling Bailey’s fridge with her very own purple Tupperware. As the only girl of seven child
ren Bailey had learned to hold her own, but she still liked girly stuff. The Lord had blessed her and Frank with a daughter before Ellen went through her change, then took her away for three long, horrifying days when Bailey was ten.
Ellen drew in a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. Closed her eyes to stop the memories of her daughter’s kidnapping from invading. Bailey had been returned to her and that was all that mattered.
A hand landed gently on her shoulder. Ellen opened her eyes and smiled up at her husband of thirty-five years. His hair had turned more gray than dark, but he still made her heart race. Even after all these years.
“Good morning.” She said.
He leaned down and kissed her softly, murmuring, “Good morning.” Then sat in the chair next to her.
“I thought I’d run over to Dani’s. Take her some of that cake I made yesterday.”
Frank nodded, sipping his coffee. “That was good cake.”
“You don’t like angel food cake.”
“I do when it’s covered with chocolate sauce.”
Ellen smacked him on the arm and he laughed. “You’re a scoundrel, Frank Wolff.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the beginnings of a new day. Grieving the fact their days would never be the same after losing their son. Remembering hot summer nights watching the kids frolic in the lake until much past their bedtimes. Going for late night swims themselves after the kids had fallen asleep.
Ellen let out a soft sigh. Frank rested his hand on hers. “He’s here, Ellie.” He said quietly.
“I know.”
Frank rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. “Come on. You can make me some of your famous blueberry pancakes.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I can, can I?”
Together they walked down her new dock—built by her boys just a few short weeks ago—toward the house.
As they approached the back deck she asked, “Scrambled eggs and bacon to go with your pancakes, sir?”
Frank wrapped his big, strong arms around her and she knew everything was going to be all right.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said as they walked inside the house they had raised their kids in.
****
Something cold and hard snaked around Macy’s neck. Slowly, one inch at a time. She came awake, hands going to her throat, clawing at the hand squeezing the breath from her. The stench of sweat and tobacco filled her flaring nostrils. Familiar. Paralyzing.
Panicked, she bucked against him to no avail. As always, he managed to pin her so she couldn’t move. She knew what came next and it filled her with rage and terror. He liked to choke her until she almost passed out, then he’d let up, allow her to catch her breath and do it again. And again. Until she wanted to stop fighting and let the blessed darkness take her. But, she never did. She didn’t stop fighting then and she wouldn’t now.
Her ears began to ring, dots dancing in front of her eyes. It wouldn’t be long before she entered that tunnel, just out of reach of total blackness. As her lungs screamed for air, she dug her nails across the exposed skin of his hands, hearing him growl in pain. He tightened his grip, pressing on her trachea with more force than usual.
Real panic set in. He wasn’t here to torment her. He wanted to kill her. There would be no sadistic game of conscious and unconscious. No one to listen and snicker as she gasped for air, the life draining out of her. No one to mock her when she began to fade away only to be slapped awake.
The ground beneath her vanished. She floated between awake and asleep, the pain inside her chest so intense she could only hover between life and death. Her body no longer belonged to her. Her eyelids drifted closed, the buzzing in her ears fading.
The hands that controlled her life were abruptly ripped from her throat. Macy gasped, choking as blessed air filled her lungs. The buzzing in her ears gone. Hyperaware of everything around her, she coughed and drew in another deep breath. Close to her feet a body hit the ground with a painful thud followed by the sounds of fists hitting flesh. Grunts as each one hit its mark.
Oh, God. Nate.
Scrambling to sit up she patted the ground for the flashlight Nate had left her. When she found it she clicked it on, shining it toward the scuffle she’d heard. Unprepared for what she saw.
Nate leaned over her attacker, one hand fisted in his shirt holding him off the ground while punching the man with his other. Controlled, efficient blows that made her flinch. But it wasn’t the violence that froze her; it was the deadly look on Nate’s face. She’d never seen him like this and it scared her. This Nate was a killer. Focused, driven, lethal.
Part of her wanted to stop him from killing the man with his bare fists. The other part, the darker half she tried to keep buried, wanted the bastard dead for what he’d done to her. The torment he inflicted, the torture he put her through. All with Aziz’s consent and blessing.
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out except a hoarse croak. Nate must have heard it because he turned his head to look at her, fist raised, knuckles bloody. She shook her head.
“It’s us or him,” Nate said in a low, guttural voice that didn’t sound at all like him.
The man she’d nicknamed the Strangler took advantage of Nate’s momentary lapse and threw a hook that landed hard on Nate’s jaw. Nate’s head snapped sideways from the force of it. Before she could comprehend what was happening the two were grappling on the ground.
In the narrow beam provided by her flashlight she saw the glint of steel.
A gun.
“Nate. Gun.” She tried to warn him but the words came out a raspy whisper.
A small pop. Both men slumped to the ground.
Oh, God. No.
Macy scrambled to reach Nate, the wound on her leg forgotten. Please, God, don’t let him be dead. Blood rushed through her head, her heart pounding as she reached him and gripped his shoulder.
“Nate?”
He stirred, his head lifting. “Get back.”
Relief surged through her with such force she fell back, jostling her wounded leg and sending a jolt clear to her shoulders.
Nate rose nimbly to his feet, blood soaking his vest.
“Were you hit?” she managed past the throbbing in her leg and inside her.
“No.”
“Thank God.” She breathed.
“I need to take care of this. Wait for me in camp.”
Numb, she nodded and did as told, limping back to the tent. She climbed inside and lay down, closing her eyes to the ache in her throat and pounding in her head. To be honest, she wished she could close her eyes and sleep for days. Forget all that had happened. Pretend her life was normal again. That her friends and coworkers weren’t gone and she wasn’t on the run for murder. There had been too much death. She needed an escape.
Ridiculous to wish for something she couldn’t have. They were in the middle of nowhere and danger lurked around every possible corner.
Macy put a hand to her forehead. Felt like a jackhammer chipping away at her skull. It was making her nauseous. Stress reaction.
Maybe she’d just rest for a second until Nate got back. Maybe then the dizziness and nausea would subside.
Darkness folded around her before she could finish the thought.
****
Nate rose to his feet, staring down at the body he’d covered in dirt. Scavengers would eventually find it, but for now they were safe. An ache spread through his chest, sharp and angry. This bastard could be the one who shot Ryan.
Rage choked him. He would never know who fired the fatal bullet that stole his youngest brother’s life, but he damn well wouldn’t stop until every last one of Diakameli’s army was eradicated, the IPA nothing but a distant memory. Maybe then he could get through the days without an ache in his soul.
Pushing those thoughts away, Nate picked up the suppressed weapon the guy had been carrying and returned to camp. He expected to find Macy there waiting for him but she slept soundly in her tent.
He checked on her
, noting her erratic breathing, but didn’t wake her. It would only cause her more distress. Besides, the way he felt right now he’d rather be alone. Adrenaline still coursed through his body. When he’d saw that bastard on top of Macy, his hands wrapped around her neck, Nate had saw red. Fury so strong and swift he barely remembered what happened next. All that ran through his head was that a soldier of Diakameli’s army wasn’t going to steal the life of another person he cared about.
At the time, he hadn’t given the last part a second thought, he’d just simply reacted. Now, as he shrugged out of his Kevlar and stowed the weapons, adrenaline wearing off, everything flooded back.
Cared about?
He dropped down to the rock Macy had been sitting on earlier. Logically, it made sense he cared for Macy. That she made it home safely and that no more harm came to her. Feelings weren’t really involved. He would want the same for any charge in his care. He knew how to do his job and emotions weren’t part of that. Damn things just kept sneaking in and it was getting harder and harder to fight them.
Nate scrubbed a hand down his face. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids. He needed a few good hours of sleep if he was to stay on top of his game.
He rose from the rock and walked over to the tent. There was only one way he would get any sleep and that was knowing Macy remained safe. The safest place for her was next to him. Without a second thought, he slid up beside her, spooning her so they would both fit. Macy didn’t wake, but pressed closer to him. He rested an arm around her waist for comfort and let his eyes close.
Only to be awakened by an elbow in his ribs.
Grimacing when Macy’s elbow dug deeper into his side he leaned over her to whisper, “Relax. It’s just me.”
Macy muttered something intelligible and shifted position again. Her elbow left his ribs, but she kicked him in the shin as she twisted and turned to get comfortable.
“Hot.” She mumbled, arching to get away from him.
Nate placed a hand on her forehead. Damp with perspiration and much too hot. Fever. Incoherent.
Not Without Risk (Wolff Securities Book 2) Page 6
