Jameson (In the Company of Snipers Book 22)

by Irish Winters

  She’d never seen anything like it before. Couldn’t be more than twenty inches long. And he was jamming shotgun shells into a magazine? “What kind of shotgun is that?”

  “High capacity. You want to use it this time?”

  “No,” she replied quickly. “I’m afraid I might—”

  “Kill everything that moves? That’s the point, Maddie. Don’t forget who was behind the jet blowing up around us or our abduction. Shade and Delaney started this. The only way out is when we end it.”

  When, not if… Licking her too dry lips, she swallowed hard. “I know but… h-h-he’s dead.”

  “And we’re not, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. Whoever those guys are who just arrived, they’re in the room overhead.”

  “It’s a kitchen. This is an old farmhouse.”

  “Let me guess, you started the fire.”

  She nodded, then spoke up with a hearty, “Yes. I had a plan. But then everyone started shooting.”

  He shook his head, his eyes on the floor. “That was me, Maddie. I thought it was our plan. I create a distraction while you run for help, remember? Wish you’d stuck to it.”

  “Well, err…” He was right. This was her fault.

  The oddest, most welcome, “Clear!” sounded upstairs.

  Jameson cocked his head like he did when he was listening extra hard, which Maddie realized was most of the time. His free arm snaked around her. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “And don’t shoot until we know for sure who we’re up against.”

  “Well, yeah…” Did he think she was an idiot? “But that sounds like the FBI up there. That’s what they always say. Clear.”

  “But we don’t know for certain yet. We hold,” he murmured, his body warm and solid, the only thing holding her together. “I’m glad you came back.”

  “Oh, sure. I’m insubordinate. Never would’ve made a good Marine.”

  “But you applied good tactical strategy, and you implemented a solid rescue plan. Tell me what else you did.”

  “I slashed their tires. All of them. I stole the limo I found in the barn. I think it was Shade’s, and I stashed it down the road behind some bushes. I saved a guy. Mr. Vlad. He was in the barn, and Shade shot him, and I used my—”

  “Did he live?” Jameson grinned when he asked.

  But Maddie’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course he lived, but I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry. You’re the expert. Alex will be angry. He’ll say I screwed the pooch.”

  “No, he won’t, Maddie. He doesn’t come across like that kind of guy. And even if he’s angry, it’s more important you think for yourself than blindly follow orders. I learned that the hard way. Things turn out better when you use your head and trust your instincts. Always follow your gut.” Jameson breathed, his face turned toward the ceiling again, his unseeing eyes blinking as if he’d heard something he didn’t like. “And that guy you saved would be dead if not for you, right?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “He’s not part of this mess we’re in.”

  “Then why’d Shade shoot him? Shhhhh… Listen.”

  “To what?” she whispered.

  “Irish brogue. That’s not the FBI upstairs, babe. Hurry. Reload.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have another magazine, and I’ve only got five shots left in this one.”

  Without looking at her, of course, he handed over another pistol, grip first. An extra magazine came next. “Ready now?”

  “Y-y-yes,” she stuttered as she slipped her secondary pistol into her waistband. “H-how many this time?”

  “Nine or ten. Big guys. All of them. That’ll be good for us. Big guys make wider targets. Take your shirt off. Cover your mouth and eyes with it. Try not to breathe.”

  He’d no sooner said that when a smoking canister rolled down the steps. Fighting her fear, Maddie ripped her shirt off, just like he’d ordered. She’d be half-naked, but hopefully, she’d stay alive. She barely had enough time to wad it into a fluffy ball and slap it over her mouth, before tear gas filled the small, stuffy room.

  Even with her makeshift mask, she choked and reached for Jameson, but he was gone. Tenney had the grace of a dancer and the stone-cold accuracy of a killer. He’d moved with lightning reflexes, like one of those crazy-fast parkour athletes who ran up walls and bounced off ceilings. He wasn’t anywhere, but then he was everywhere. Shooting. Forcing her face first to the floor. Holding a hard hand in the middle of her back while he fired over her head, again and again. Each time, the kickback radiated down his arm to her body.

  Maddie panicked. There was too much noise and mayhem, but not enough air! She couldn’t think! Couldn’t see. So much smoke! Her eyes and nose stung and watered. She couldn’t catch a decent breath because of the excess fluid in her throat. Didn’t want to breathe when she did. Her lungs quit working. Her bare breasts, now pressed flat to the rough concrete floor, hurt. She was dying!

  Suddenly, the noise stopped. Jameson lifted her into his arms, and he was carrying her upstairs. But she was a miserable snotty mess. Worse, she hadn’t fired a single shot to help him, and she was half-dressed. And oh, yes. She was still the loser her dad always said she was.

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Jameson chided as he settled her on his knee with one arm around her. “Your dad’s an idiot.”

  “But, but, but…” she sputtered, embarrassed she might’ve said that last part out loud.

  “Losers quit, and that’s not what you did tonight, Maddie,” he said as he poured water over her face. “Sounds to me like he’s the real loser and a bully. Your dad quit on you, didn’t he?”

  The rush of cool water instantly soothed, but didn’t completely wash the effects of the tear gas away. She was still choking and snotting, but she could see they were at the kitchen sink, and Jameson was scooping water from the running faucet over her face Something warm and wonderful blossomed in her chest for the first time ever, and it wasn’t tear gas.

  “Yes,” she admitted weakly, wishing she had a blanket or something to cover up with. “Every day of my life.”

  “Asshole,” Jameson muttered. “Real men don’t denigrate children. Any children! They build them up, and they teach them how to have confidence in this shitty world. To stand tall and walk proud. They provide positive reinforcement, and they always have their kid’s back. They’re proud of them every single damned day.”

  Not all men. “W-was your dad? Proud of you? Every day?”

  “You bet. Want to meet him? He and Mom are expecting me for dinner this Sunday. They’ll adore you. Come with me.”

  Maddie shook her head, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. Exposed and naked and, well, snotty. Yet the sensation of Jameson leaning over her was so, so nice. Even there in the dark, with her eyes burning and watering too much for her to see, she could feel the capable, strong male leaning over her. Sheltering her. That all by itself was a really nice, really new feeling. It’d be better to have her shirt back, and she wished she didn’t look this awful. But then, what difference did it make? He couldn’t see her. “My hair. I must look like—”

  “Like an angel,” Jameson murmured. “Maddie, are you…? My God, you are.”

  He cocked his head more sharply then. He had one hand on her bare shoulder, the other on her rib cage. She hadn’t had time to tell him how she’d stopped Mr. Vlad’s gunshot wound from bleeding. That she’d lost track of her shirt in the scary confusion downstairs. That she was naked from the waist up. But he knew now.

  “Y-y-you can’t see me, can you?”

  “Oh, yes, I can,” he whispered as one big, manly, wet hand smoothed over her bare shoulder. His other was behind her, his fingers splayed against her bare back. “Where’s your shirt, babe?”

  “Somewhere downstairs,” she whispered. “You said take it off, but then I lost it, and I had to cut up my bra to save Mr. Vlad, and I don’t know where my guns are, either. Dad was right. I’m such a loser.” Her eyes
welled with bitter tears.

  “No, Maddie. Your dad was dead damned wrong,” Jameson breathed. His deep voice had dropped an octave into bedroom range. “You’re strong and smart. And you’re beautiful.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m noth—”

  “Shush. Who knows better, me or your dad?”

  Was that a trick question? “Y-y-you…?”

  “Right again. Let me tell you what I know about you that your old man doesn’t and never will. You’re four feet, eleven inches tall and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. Long silky hair. Still don’t know the color of it, but I’m working on that. More importantly, you’re braver than any woman I’ve ever met. You’re resourceful. You know how to think for yourself.”

  “Blonde. I’m blonde, and I’m half-naked.”

  “Oh, yes you are,” he rumbled with something akin to delight in his tone. “What color are your eyes?”

  “L-light b-b-blue.”

  “God, you’re perfect,” he moaned.

  Darn, this was embarrassing. He knew she was bare to him, yet he couldn’t see her. Any of her. How pitiful was that? To look more womanly, she needed her padded bra. But it was gone, and Jameson was still here, but he couldn’t see, so what did it matter? Yet it did, damn it. She wanted Jameson to really look at her with his eyes, the way he seemed able to see her with his ears.

  But he was smiling. “You’re so damned beautiful, Maddie,” he breathed.

  By then, he’d leaned farther into her face. She could smell his breath and their combined sweaty, tear-gassed bodies. Okay, maybe seeing wasn’t believing after all. The air around them went still. She could hear how ragged his breathing had turned. His heart was probably pounding as hard as hers was, too. The intensity etched on his face was almost feral. Good grief, she wanted him.

  Blinking furiously through watery eyes, Maddie saw it coming. Wanted it with every beat of her quivering, timid body. Like a man on a mission, Jameson closed the distance between them. One big, warm, wonderfully damp hand settled completely over her breast. All of it. Possessing it. Loving her. And she was lost in the most sublime sensation of her life.

  His thumb rubbed her nipple, hardening the bud and sending sparks straight to her quivering core. His other hand was holding the back of her head, cupping her gently when—it happened. He covered her mouth with the most delicious kiss.

  Her body ignited, and Maddie lost control. Both her hands cupped his jaw, holding him tight and right where she wanted him to stay for a long time. Slanting her head, she opened her mouth wider, needing this connection, this very affirmative man in her arms, so damned much. Her body seemed to have a will of its own, bucking into his. All her life she’d been nothing, but then Jameson came along and, wham. She’d become visible, and she really was strong, and she knew what she wanted, and it was him. She was starving. Every last fiber in her body and every bit of her soul was so darned hungry.

  Too quickly, he growled, tipped back on his haunches, and broke the steamy connection. He was wiping his face, but licking his lips, too. “We will definitely continue this conversation later,” he muttered huskily while he shrugged out of his wrinkled jacket. “Here. Cover up.”

  For whatever reason, those words didn’t crush her like they would’ve if they’d come from her dad or her ex. Maddie wiggled into the luscious scents Jameson had left behind in his jacket. The warmth. Her favorite scent of over-heated masculine spice.

  “You’re shivering.” The worry in his tone was so tender and precious that she wanted to cry.

  “I think because I’m… I’m happy,” she whispered. “And now I’m wrapped up inside of you, and I… I…” I don’t know how to tell you the boost in confidence you’ve just given me.

  “I didn’t know you weren’t wearing your bra. Honest.” His cheeks ballooned as he blew out a ragged breath. “Or I never would’ve told you to take your shirt off.”

  Maddie shrugged. “It’s okay. No one could see me through all that smoke, and it wouldn’t have mattered if they did. I had to stop Mr. Vlad’s bleeding, so I used what I had on me, and that was my bra, and it worked.”

  A smile broke through the confused worry lining Jameson’s handsome face. Those adorable laugh lines crowding his dark eyes stretched into rays of pure sunshine. He ran the back of his hand over his forehead, wiping a portion of sweat away. “Works for me, too.”

  “I like how you converse,” she offered timidly. Daring to feel sensual and sexy for the first time ever. She’d never be rockstar sexy, but she could tease. Him. Just him.

  “There’s lots more where that came from,” he growled playfully. “Now, where’s our ride out of here?” A broad smile crinkled his handsome face. Jameson had the most amazing laugh lines. At the corners of his eyes. Across his forehead. Bracketing the sides of his mouth. Those lush lips…

  Maddie licked the inside of her mouth where he’d just been, savoring the taste of him and the wonder of this most excellent minute of her life. She’d found something tonight. When she’d first been introduced, she hadn’t wanted to play TEAM guide to another former solider. They were the ones who got to go on adventures. She was the one they all left behind, while they went off and saved the world. But now she felt as if she were part of a whole new world, and it was perfect.

  Reaching out, she took his hand and interlocked her fingers with his. “It’s a little ways down the road, Jameson. Come on. Pull me up, and I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We’re at their location, Boss, but Maddie and Jameson aren’t here. Pops Delaney is though. What’s left of him. As well as quite a few of his guys. You should see all these bodies. Pretty sure this is Jameson’s work.”

  Alex squeezed the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, fighting a migraine that wouldn’t let up until he was sure Maddie and Jameson were safe. It was the middle of a long, damned night and he was in his office. After reviewing Reagan’s security footage, he now knew who’d abducted them. Pops Delaney, a thug and a gunrunner. He’d been there all along, had watched from the shadows when Jameson and Maddie ran from the jet. He and another guy had overcome them, then stuffed them into the back of a black SUV.

  And now he was dead, the rat bastard. His death would incite a scramble inside and outside his gang for dominance. More than one hit team would be gunning for Jameson once this information hit the press. Hell, they probably already knew.

  Adam cleared his throat. “You still with me?”

  “Shade isn’t there, is she?” Alex knew damned well she wasn’t, but a man could wish.

  “No sign she ever was. Hunter and Eric are scouring the immediate area, but this is Virginia, and the farmhouse where Delaney stashed Maddie and Jameson is a leftover relic from the past century.”

  Which meant it was overgrown and forgotten, the perfect place for a mob boss to conduct business. Delaney was one of the top kingpins on the East Coast. His gang was ruthless, daring, and growing. Alex had watched them run over weak-kneed governors and crooked mayors, circuit court judges and the FBI’s best. They seemed untouchable.

  But he knew different. The director of the FBI’s one and only psychic team, Tucker Chase, had a man inside the Irish gang. Which was why Delaney had come to Boston. His men had recently fallen to one FBI sting after another. Whoever Tucker’s guy was, he’d been supplying inside details of hits, takeovers, and other mob plans for months. Delaney’s rep had been on the line for just as long. His people were restless. They didn’t feel safe, the poor thieving, murderous scoundrels. Word on the street was it was only a matter of time before someone took him out. And now Jameson had unknowingly lit the match that would inflame Boston, the Eastern Seaboard, the District, and quiet, quaint Olde Town Alexandria with it.

  The cost of doing business had just grown exponentially higher for every law-abiding businessman and woman. A new boss always wanted to rule the police. The single-owner neighborhood mom and pop shops and restaurants. Successf
ul enterprises. The world…

  “Say again?” Adam asked whoever was reporting back to him. “Copy that. Boss, you still there?”

  “Here.”

  “Hunter found something. Might be our missing people. There’s no reason for me to stay here. Already gave an initial statement to the sheriff. His coroner’s onsite and an FBI forensic team is on the way. I’m going to catch up with Hunt.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  “Copy that.”

  Alex had barely disconnected the call when his other problem, Mother, opened his door without knocking and stalked in. Today she wore a no-nonsense silvery gray business suit, black heels, and a white silk blouse, its collar tucked smartly under the lapels of the suit. She settled into the chair in front of his desk, leaned forward, and, with one hand, pushed his nameplate aside. She crossed her arms and interlocked her fingers without breaking eye contact.

  She’d changed since she’d returned after her daughter’s death. He’d thought her long hiatus would’ve helped her come to terms with losing Dempsey. But she’d come back to The TEAM with a tough, flinty edge. Reminded him of the hard ass he’d been after he’d lost Sara and Abby.

  Mother was clearly still in pain, and a child’s death would take the rest of her life to process. That didn’t entitle her to a partnership, though. He didn’t appreciate the leverage she’d assumed she had, that she’d only stay if he made her his partner. Bottom line, he had Ember, Beau, and Maddie Bannister working technical support, and each of them brought positive energy to The TEAM, not tit-for-tat. They were straight with him, and they minded their business, a trait Mother didn’t seem to think mattered.

  But it sure as hell did. He waited while she stared him down. As if her glare came close to intimidating a Devil Dog? Not hardly. When she didn’t speak up and spit it out, he charged. “What do you have for me?”

  “Information.”

  His head throbbed at her continual cat-and-mouse game. “I don’t have time for this,” he growled. “Support my TEAM or pack your desk and leave.”