Pitbull (SEAL Team Alpha Book 10)
Page 20
“Hemingway,” Dodger said, relief in his voice. “Are you okay?”
He forced himself to move, to roll over. Dodger reached down and snagged his tack vest and pulled him upright.
“The next time you take the lead, could I get a warning when you decide to jump off the edge of a freaking mountain?”
“It’s not a mountain, just a steep-arsed hill.”
“Are you saying I’m making a mountain out of a molehill?”
“Well, at least you have a good sense of humor. That will help in BUD/S.” He grinned. “You think you’re sore now, ah, man, wait.”
Once he was on his feet, they moved to the base of the hill, and Dodger searched the leaden sky as the rain let up. “Let’s get the hell out of here before they decide to come back.”
Together they low-crawled up the opposite hillside, then rose and veered into the creek. Behind them, the chopper’s whop-whop-whop receded into the distance. They splashed through the ravine in calf-deep water under the canopy of trees.
In another fifteen minutes of running they reached the outskirts of the small town. They climbed out of a gully and hurried across a lot between two buildings, tall grasses hiding tires and discarded furniture.
The rundown look of dwellings gave way to renovated homes and shops with the essence of the conquistadors in iron and stucco.
Cars were sporadic this time of the morning as slim ribbons of dawn lit the sky. As soon as Hemingway saw the two-story flat-front building with Hotel on its sign, they concealed their weapons before going inside.
The woman was older and lovely, reminding Hemingway of his sister, and his heart contracted. Her gaze went over their wet and muddy appearance.
“Looks like you had an adventure,” she said, then held out a key to them while Dodger paid her.
“Food?” he asked, hopefully, then gave her that boyish smile. She melted and nodded.
“I will bring it up in thirty minutes, yes?”
Dodger nodded. “A very big yes. Four servings,” he said, then held up his fingers and she smiled.
They jumped off the back of the pickup that had given them a ride into this town. It was late morning, and Mak was feeling the effects of very little sleep. Pitbull spotted a hotel and headed toward it, pulling an exhausted and heartsore Mak with him. They still had time left in their three-day window that Vero had given them. Now that they had the coordinates to Vero’s compound, they could get there before they had to meet him, the exchange spot miles and miles away.
Inside there was a lovely woman, and she looked them up and down. “There have been plenty of adventurers here today.”
“I’m sorry to impose,” Mak asked, “but would you have some clothes we could buy?”
“My husband’s clothes should fit your man, and I think I have some that my sister wore when she visited. Food?”
“Yes, please,” she said as she handed her the key.
“Could I use your phone?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s out of order at the moment. The storm sometimes does that.”
“Okay, thanks.”
They climbed up the stairs to the room. “I think I’ve been awake for a week,” she said.
He pulled off her shirt.
“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?”
He laughed and examined the gash on her arm. “I’m more worried about your health.”
“I thought guys were always horny.”
“We are, but I do have some self-control.” He probed the cut.
“Ow. Do you want to squeeze my ribs, too? They still hurt.”
“You got this from the crash?”
“Geez, I don’t know. I feel like one big bruise right now. I’m uncertain where or when I got it.”
“It needs stitches,” he said. He turned to his pack and pulled out a syringe and a small case.
“You know how to stitch up an arm?”
“Yes, we’re all taught medical procedures, including stitching.”
“Don’t tell me. You’ve stitched yourself up, haven’t you?”
“Hmm,” he said. “Maybe.”
“You have. Where?”
“I’ll show you all my scars later,” he growled.
“Does this earn me a purple heart?” she asked.
“I can give you one of mine,” he said.
“One, wow, okay.”
His eyes were focused on her arm—mostly—as he gave her an injection. He kept glancing at her breasts, and for some stupid reason that made her feel better.
“Done.” He snipped the thread, then gave her another injection. “Antibiotics.”
“Your turn,” she said, pulling off his shirt. She swabbed and cleaned his cuts and abrasions, and he injected himself with a syringe of antibiotics. Her gaze slid over him and the reality of him was jarring, remembering how in the chopper she was sure she was falling in love with him. He was all delineated muscle, wide chest and broad shoulders. His gaze was on her, not her body or anything else, but her face. It was intense and she felt it down to her bones. Her gaze slipped to his jeans, the top button open, an invitation. He looked down to where she was fixated and laughed.
“Nope. Food, shower, and sleep,” he said.
She shivered and smiled, “I love it when you get all bossy, like you’re really in charge.” She stepped closer and he actually stepped back. “I could make you eat those words.”
“Mak, the mission.”
That sobered her, and she turned toward the bathroom door.
There was a knock at the door and when Pitbull opened it, the woman handed him a stack of clothing. “Thank you,” he said.
She sighed. “I will be back in a moment with the food.”
True to her word, she brought them two heaping plates of hot, filling chow. Mak ate every morsel, then headed for the shower.
“Dibs,” she said, opening the door.
“Ladies first, but I heard if you shower together, you can conserve water.”
“If I wash your back, you’ll wash mine?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, looking all sleepy-eyed and sexy. In the shower, her full belly hit her, and it took almost the rest of her energy to wash gingerly over her cuts and his before they dried off and headed toward the bed.
The woman had kindly brought her a pretty cotton eyelet nightgown to sleep in. Pitbull pulled on the shorts and then got into bed, and they snuggled together face to face.
She immersed herself in those confident gray eyes. He always seemed to be in charge, so strong. She was shocked at how much she wanted him in her life. How much she wanted to look at him this way forever.
But she had so much damn baggage and being with a SEAL wasn’t going to be all that easy, which didn’t faze her. She could handle long deployments, but she knew what kind of danger he was in, and that would be something that had to be managed, the pain of loss. Would it be worth it?
“No way to contact command. Cells are useless and the landlines are down. Do you think they found the pilots…and…and…”
She broke off, her throat constricting, remembering how young the pilot was and how he had a girlfriend back home.
Pitbull, his face softening, slipped his arm around her. “Yes, I’m sure they have. They don’t mess around with rescue choppers, Mak. Once one goes down, there is an immediate response. In fact, I’m sure Fast Lane isn’t far behind us, but he has no idea where we’re headed. We’re still pretty much on our own.”
She blinked away the sudden tears. “I’ve been used to that. I can take care of myself pretty much, but I will say, it’s been nice having you around.”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I’m kinda attached to you, too, lady.”
“You are?” she mumbled, closing her eyes. Turning over, she felt the warmth of him only inches away from her back, and she opened her eyes, wanting to say more, but feeling as if she would risk so much, not sure if she was ready. Expelling a long sigh, he slipped one arm under her head and the other
around her midriff, drawing her securely into the curve of his body. Throwing her into emotional overload, he locked his arm around making her feel so secure. She smoothed her hand across the back of his, her voice soft. “Thank you.”
His chest expanded heavily against her back, and his voice was gruff when he spoke. “You’re welcome.”
Tightening her hold on his hand, Mak broke completely, wanting more, needing more. But she couldn’t get there if she didn’t let go of the ghosts from her past. Then one of her Navajo prayers came to her, one she’d said when she was little. It was comforting as she recited it to herself. Reconnecting to her tribe felt so good.
She let out a breath, her eyes drifting closed again, and quickly slid into slumber.
Hours later, Mak woke up, her body heavy with lethargy, her eyes gritty. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but they couldn’t afford any more.
He was a big, hard, arousing heat behind her, his groin pressed to the curves of her butt, that wide chest, thick with muscle to her back, and she could feel the hard, tantalizing length of his morning wood.
She turned her body in the bed to face him. He was on his side, his face achingly handsome, the morning beard shadowing his jaw adding that rugged, dangerous quality to his sharp, well-formed features. His hair fell over his forehead, giving him just a touch of boyishness, lending a subtle vulnerability to him as he slept. And the melting continued, her insides liquid, her body reacting to his closeness and the clean, delicious smell of him. She ran her hands over her aching breasts, down to her naked hips, between her legs where she stroked herself to relieve some of the tension, her core vibrating with need.
One, two, three strokes and she was already climaxing, her muscles expanding and contracting in deep, rippling pleasure. Still, she wasn’t satisfied, but then he moved. “Can I join the party?” he murmured.
The unexpected sound of his deep voice only added to the pleasure pulsing between her legs, so masculine it slid over her skin. “It’s your fault I can’t wait until—”
His mouth descended on one of her eyelet-covered nipples, and she arched her back at the wet heat teasing her through the small openings. “Oh, God, Errol,” she whispered. “I need you. Please.”
He groaned softly as she tugged at the lace until he helped to remove it, baring her breasts, her aching body to him. He slipped his arm under her back and arched it until her nipples were lifted high.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured. She moaned his name when his mouth closed over her bare nipple. Then he nipped the other one, sucking hard, setting off wild sensations coiling out of control. He worked them over, back and forth until she was blind with need, then took one deep into his mouth, the hot pull of heat driving a lick of flame to her center. She was so liquid inside. No one else made her want like this. Just looking at him brought a primal hunger she couldn’t control. His hands spanned her ribcage, pulling her near.
His stomach flexed when she reached inside to slide her hand over the hard, hot length of him. He groaned again, his mouth sucking harder as she arched into him, her fingers sinking into his hair, flexing in the silky strands and holding him there.
She opened her eyes when he raised his head, their gazes colliding and meshing, something shattering between them, pieces taken, given, falling away. She stroked him just to see that dangerous and delicious fire in his eyes.
“I want to fuck you so hard it’s killing me, and I want to die, Mak.”
She rose, pushing him back, pulling down his shorts and taking him into her wet mouth, his skin hot and salty against the stroke of her tongue. He shuddered and tangled his hands in her hair, and she sucked him deep. He let out a deep, gasping groan, reaching for her arms and pulling her a few inches.
“Mak,” he whispered, barely audible, needing her as much as she wanted him. In one pull he had her in the perfect position and she straddled his hips.
She rocked and his eyes flared. She rose, her thighs flexing as she guided him. Her gaze locked with his, she sank down.
His hands buried in her hair. She stared down at him, her eyes moistening. She’d been alone so long. Not just the silence of her loss, the solitude of her job, but in her soul, she’d felt adrift. She clung to him, her arms locked around him.
“Oh, God, Errol,” she managed. His hold tightened, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his hands soothing her spine. She kissed his throat, his shoulder, then her mouth found his, the heat between them heavy with the pulse of desire, an ache pushing beyond the heart. They moved, and Mak held his gaze, not wanting to look away. With each hard thrust of his body into hers, she felt her blood move slower and the pull on her soul.
“I’m here, babe,” he whispered.
Her throat contracted, and his kiss soothed her, their bodies moving together as one. Her fingertips traced the beautiful angles of his face, her breath shuddering, and she clutched him, fused with him on each thick stroke. Nothing mattered, not even the evil outside the door. She couldn’t get her brain to work beyond this moment, which she held greedily with the taste of him, the feel of his skin, the brush of his mouth, the roll of his hips.
He pushed her legs around his waist and lowered her to the mattress. He thrust into her in a pace that he couldn’t control. He kissed her. She kept thrusting, giving everything she had to this man who she had coupled with to seek justice, to provide the might and turn the tide of evil, this warrior who was changing her, banishing her demons and taking her toward something…beautiful…scary….real. Hózhó.
Her body responded, giving him what he needed, taking what she needed, their gasps filling the room. She was lost in him, tension low in her body responding to his demanding thrusts, thickening him, making every tiny sensation raw and primal. She opened up to him, opened up her heart.
He reached between them, stimulating her until she was gasping into his mouth and the pleasure coalesced into a blinding release around him, the wild flex of muscles, the squeeze of her body. He was there with her. She grabbed his face, wildly kissing him, hanging onto the moment for as long as she could.
For a long moment they held onto each other, her whole body trembling from the aftermath. She buried her face against his neck. She found her own emotional honesty, finally experiencing the deep passion she had kept locked up in her soul. A dam of realization broke, and with it came a flood of tears.
“It’s all right, babe. I feel like crying too.”
She laughed through her tears at him. “I’ve been so locked up. So…alone.”
“I know,” he whispered. He cradled her closer against him, the labored pounding of his heart vibrating through her. He inhaled raggedly, then brushed his mouth against the curve of her shoulder, his hold on her tightening.
Mak flattened her hand against the back of his neck, drawing him even closer, feeling as if she would disintegrate into a million pieces, then knew if she did, he would know how to put her back together.
He held her like he did everything: with a savage strength.
Blotting her face against his damp skin and working to control her tears, she drew an unsteady breath and ran her hand up his back, feeling the many scars of the warrior he was. Just by being who he was, he had changed her. And in this moment, she realized it was totally up to her whether she would recede back to that empty woman, working so hard not to feel or give herself over to the beauty of what they were sharing and a future that included harmony, balance, and beauty.
He pushed up, tenderly brushing hair off her face and kissing her softly. Closing her eyes, she smoothed her hand up his torso, savoring the damp texture of his skin and the denseness of the underlying muscles.
He took a breath and said softly, “You’ve told me everything, and I find that I can do no less, Mak.”
It was like a river of pain as he started talking about his teammate Justin “Speed” Myerson and his wife, then about not knowing he’d conceived a daughter. His voice shook as he explained how much he wanted to be in her life.
He took a breath, then continued in a quieter voice, “Then, the new guys came in, and I was…a complete asshole. I didn’t want to fail them too, and I didn’t even know what I was doing. But then you happened, made me examine everything. I don’t want to be that man anymore, second-guessing and building a wall between us so that I can feel better about losing them, like maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad.” He laughed, the sound harsh. “But who am I kidding? The bond makes us who we are and without it, we’re nothing. It makes us strong, it makes us warriors, it makes us—”
She cupped his face, lifted his head, and captured his gaze. “Brothers.”
He nodded and buried his face in her neck, his chest expanding. She held him as he absorbed her words and sorted out his own emotions. Deep down she understood how this had happened to him. He’d done it unintentionally, and she’d done it with one solid purpose. Now they were both realizing that all they had been through was the act of living, and without opening themselves up to love, brotherhood, and risk, it wasn’t living at all.
It was ironic that the two of them had such dangerous jobs and nothing scared them as much as losing the people in their lives who meant everything.
“I want you to know that I’m claiming her, regardless of what Helen says or does. She will be a part of my life. It could get messy.” He raised his head. “Not all the guys know, but I’m going to tell them just as soon as I can.”
She nodded. “They will forgive you, because as sure as I’m breathing, I know you, Errol Ballentine, and you would never leave a brother behind or not be the first one to cover his back or die trying.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and said fiercely, “I know that to be true.”