They nearly lost three men, carrying the bodies to the car. Brian, Jacob, and Gideon were all shot to hell. Jaimie had been stark white, her blue eyes two dark, haunting holes. There was blood on her clothes, and all over her hands, as she tried desperately to stem the life force draining from the men she'd grown up with. It had been a nightmare journey home, a fight all the way to keep the three men alive.
Hours later, when they were finally safe, Mack held Jaimie while she was sick, again and again, violent, gut-wrenching spasms. She hadn't spoken, hadn't said a word, rocking back and forth with a blank, horrified stare that had scared the hell out of Mack. He'd tried to shake her out of it, order her out of it.
"It might have been better if we could have proved the other woman was also part of the Doomsday terrorists. Unfortunately the French hostages are both dead. No one knows where their bodies are. We'll never know for sure," Kane said softly.
"I know," Mack insisted firmly. "My gut knows. It was a trap, a great trap. I was dead. If you hadn't come in, I was dead."
"Maybe she can't forgive us for not knowing if the second woman was innocent, but I know she can't forgive herself for not being able to pull that trigger to save your life. She loves you. She's always loved you. In her eyes, she betrayed you. And when you came down so hard on her, you betrayed her by not understanding, by not seeing." Kane shook his head. "She's wired differently than we are, Mack. All that blood. Seeing the others covered in blood, you know she had to remember finding her mother."
Mack shook his head. "She was such a little child. All eyes. That killer smile. No kid should have to see that."
"I think blood brings it all back, Mack. She can't take it."
Mack swept an unsteady hand through his thick, springy hair. "I see. I understand. Jaimie probably isn't capable of killing another human being either. That's all right with me. It doesn't make me think any less of Jaimie. I can understand her feelings."
"No, you can't," Kane denied. "Neither can I. It doesn't mean we think less of her, it means she's different from us."
Mack rubbed at his temples. Jaimie was different. And maybe he didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He wanted her in his life. She was so good at what they did, yet she couldn't take the blood and gore, freezing, rendering her useless when push came to shove. She'd been a liability and as much as they needed what she could do, he had to accept that she would never be a part of his work. Never be a part of the biggest part of his life. Jaimie was smarter and quicker at figuring things out. Maybe she'd already figured that and had walked away because she couldn't accept it.
Jaimie emerged from the bathroom in faded button-up Levi's, a soft blue sweatshirt, bare feet, and a towel wrapped around her wet hair like a turban, and both immediately ceased their conversation.
"What? No breakfast? There's no room service, you know," she chastised. "I had high hopes that one of you would do the cooking."
She walked beautifully, even in blue jeans. Mack's black gaze was hot as it followed her to the barstool. She'd always been graceful, and now she glided, her feet making no sound on the floor. He loved her hair, a halo of shiny curls. Her hair had always been unruly, messy, like a woman after a man spent a long night making love to her. He took a deep breath and let it out, avoiding Kane's piercing gaze. The man knew him too well.
"We managed to make coffee," Kane pointed out, pouring her a cup, taking pity on Mack.
"What's this 'we' business?" Mack protested. "If you hadn't kept us up, Jaimie, half the night with your incessant chatter, we might be a bit sharper this morning."
She laughed at him, her vivid blue eyes dancing. "You always did wake up crabby, Mack."
"You take a shower first," Kane insisted generously. "I suggest a cold one. It will work wonders."
Behind Jaimie's back, Mack gestured rudely. The two men burst out laughing simultaneously.
"Towels are on the sink," Jaimie provided helpfully. She looked a bit smug, very happy and extremely kissable.
Mack reminded himself to quit staring at her mouth. It wasn't helping to relax his body. "Thank you, honey." Deliberately, his voice was low and silky and caressing. The bastard Joe might be six feet tall, but he had nothing on Mack when it came to knowing what Jaimie liked best. He knew every hidden spot, every secret shadow.
She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip, eyes going wide and darkening to a royal blue. She suddenly found her coffee interesting. He managed to walk to the bathroom as if all parts of his body were cooperating.
Kane leaned his elbows on the counter across from Jaimie. "That floor is as hard as nails. I was serious about ordering a bed or two. Would you mind?"
Her small white teeth chewed nervously at her lower lip. Kane was grateful Mack was in the shower. This particular look would have him flinging himself right out the window. "How long do you think you'll have to stay?"
Kane shrugged casually. "A couple of weeks, a month. The truth is, little Jaimie, we need a base anyway. Now that Mack knows you've permanently settled here, even when we clear up the trouble, he's going to want to stay."
"I'm not going back to that life, Kane."
"I know that, honey. Mack knows it too. That doesn't mean we aren't family."
A shadow crossed Jaimie's delicate face, darkened her blue eyes. "I guess we can go shopping for furniture today, then, but if you're sleeping in it, you pay for it. We'll need food too. I guess you both expect to eat."
"He's had a rough time of it without you, Jaimie." Kane poured himself another cup of coffee. "I have too."
Her gaze met his. "I needed time to establish myself, to become my own person." She curled her fingers around the warmth of the mug. "I would have written if I had an address for you."
They both knew she couldn't just write to the military and find them. GhostWalker missions were kept strictly secret, but she knew Sergeant Major Griffen, and could have gone to him to get word to them had she wanted. She hadn't done it.
"We kept track of you," Kane admitted.
"Obviously." Jaimie smiled at one of the many pewter dragons standing on its back legs, claws extended, a fierce expression on its face. "I cried for two straight days when the first one arrived."
"Mack always refers to you as a fire-breathing dragon. That's where he got the idea." He looked at her over the top of his coffee mug. "Mack went a little crazy when you moved again. We had no idea you were in San Francisco."
"I had to find a place for my business and there's work here. I wasn't exactly hiding. In the end, you would have found me."
Kane unexpectedly reached across the counter and flicked her chin. "Don't ever disappear like that again, you hear me, Jaimie?"
She nodded solemnly. "I won't. I have a business now. I'll be easy to find."
"Is this Spaghetti person . . ."
"Spagnola," Jaimie corrected, trying to scowl.
"Whatever. Is he married?"
"Kane, really, does it matter?" When he was silent she shot him an exasperated glare and slid from the barstool. "No, Joe is not married. What difference would it make?"
"Probably the difference between life and death," Kane muttered.
"Excuse me?" Jaimie said. "I didn't hear you."
"It would make Mack feel better," Kane substituted prudently.
"Yeah, right. He'd just think Joe was out for an extramarital affair."
Kane laughed softly. "Most likely you're right about that. He isn't the most easygoing guy where you're concerned."
"That's putting it mildly and you're almost as bad." Jaimie opened the refrigerator and scowled at the contents. "Maybe we should go out for breakfast."
"What do you usually eat for breakfast?" Kane inquired.
She slammed the door with unnecessary force. "Coffee. I'm usually too busy to eat."
"The Spaghetti guy arrives at ten and you don't have the time to eat?" Kane's eyebrow shot up. "Lazy little thing."
"I am not," Jaimie denied indignantly. "I have all kinds of things to do. I
'm usually up by seven. And don't call Joe 'the Spaghetti guy.' Sometimes we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, which is why there is meat in my refrigerator, smart one."
Kane groaned. "I suggest you keep good old Joe away from Mack. Don't tell Mack you eat with this clown on a regular basis. And try not to say his name in that syrupy voice."
"I don't say his name syrupy."
"Yes, you do. All soft and dreamy. And your voice changes when you talk to him. Mack is going to throw him out on his ass if you keep it up."
"Mack will have to learn some manners." Jaimie flounced across the room to the bed, Kane on her heels. "And Joe might not be so easy to throw out."
Kane straightened slowly from where he was bending to help her make her bed. "Jaimie . . ." he began. "You aren't blind. He's not going to let another man into your life."
"Joe is a friend. And it's not Mack's business anymore, now, is it, Kane?" Jaimie said, sticking her chin out. "He let me go. He doesn't get to just walk back into my life and think things are going to be the same."
"Hey!" Mack emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, steam escaping all around him. His chest and feet were bare, creating a mood of intimacy. "You two all right? You look like you're arguing."
"Don't you ever wear a shirt?" Jaimie demanded.
He smirked at her. "Bothers you, does it? Kind of takes your breath away?"
Jaimie rolled her eyes. "You probably spent the last fifteen minutes staring at yourself in the mirror." For a moment he actually had taken her breath away and she was certain Kane knew it. He'd been standing close enough to hear her swift indrawn breath and now he was grinning ear to ear. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't say a word."
Kane held up his hands in surrender, ruined it by winking, walked around her, slapped Mack on the back, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Mack tossed his towel aside and took a step toward Jaimie. Her head came up, eyes suddenly wary. Mack smiled when she stepped backward. The bed caught the back of her knees and she sat down rather abruptly. The move brought her eye level with the undone top button of Mack's jeans. She blushed for no reason at all, her eyes traveling up his narrow hips, the muscle-cut stomach, to his heavily developed chest.
"This is silly, Mack. Get some clothes on." Her mouth had gone so dry it was difficult to speak normally.
"I have clothes on." He stepped close enough for her to feel his body heat. He pulled the makeshift turban from her head and gently began to rub her hair with the towel.
He was so close Jaimie was forced to close her eyes. It didn't seem to matter, he filled her vision anyway. He smelled of spicy aftershave mingled with his clean, masculine scent. Beneath her long lashes she could glimpse every defined muscle of his chest and arms, the way the hair on his chest grew down in a fine V to disappear into his jeans. His hands were evoking all kinds of sensations Jaimie didn't care to remember.
She stood it as long as she could before clenching her teeth and reaching up to capture his wrists. "I'm perfectly capable of drying my own hair."
His wrists were so thick, Jaimie couldn't get a good grip on him and he merely twisted his arm so that her hands fell free. "I know you can. I've always liked doing it. You have beautiful hair."
His words triggered warm memories of Mack down on one knee, wiping tears from Jaimie's face, brushing back strands of muddy hair, assuring her they could make her hair beautiful again with a quick shampoo. She found herself smiling. "You've always said that, even when I was a little girl."
"It's true, I love your hair." Mack tossed the towel aside and began using his fingers, tunneling through damp strands to pick it dry.
It seemed far worse with his fingers than with the towel, much more intimate. Jaimie could barely breathe, every nerve ending alive, a hot ember coiling, growling in the pit of her stomach, spreading discontent, spreading need. His jean-clad knee brushed against her shoulder. Something deep and feminine, hot and demanding, unleashed inside of her. Without conscious thought, her hand curled around his calf muscle. A connection.
The moment she touched him, she knew it was a mistake. His body was hard and hot and so inviting, and memories flooded in. She had loved him so much, had been so proud that he'd been hers. And he'd thrown her away for his adrenaline rush.
Mack's body went taut, every muscle contracting. The heat licking up his leg was like flames, each running hotter and faster than the last until he was consumed with it. For one moment his fists bunched in her hair, the physical need so great he shook with the craving, but then she let go. He heard her breath hitch.
Abruptly he released her, turned away quickly to move stiffly to the bar. Kane was a blessing and a curse. Mack wanted to be alone with Jaimie, needed to be alone with her, but he didn't dare. His hand was a little bit unsteady when he poured his coffee.
Jaimie sat very still, her heart pounding somewhere between alarm, anticipation, and frustration. There was no mistaking Mack's body's sudden urgent demand and the ensuing struggle to control his desire. For a moment, she had been afraid he was going to toss her on the bed and take her right there. For a moment she had wanted him to. She touched her tongue to her lips and forced herself to take charge.
"Kane and I were discussing going out to eat." Jaimie tested her voice cautiously. Her tone might have been a tiny bit more husky than normal, but she could live with it. "What do you think?"
Mack smiled, pure male and taunting. "I think you're a little coward, honey, that's what I think."
The way he said "honey" was caressing, almost tender. It was disarming and totally unfair. Jaimie stayed on the bed with space separating them, feeling it was far safer. He still had a predatory gleam in his eye. "We're discussing breakfast: Go out or stay in. Vote."
"I'd rather vote on other things."
"As usual, you're not making a bit of sense. I don't know why I put up with you."
He swung back toward her, a quick movement of power and grace, his black eyes devouring her face. Jaimie's heart lurched wildly. He came across the floor like a stalking jungle cat. She couldn't move, frozen to the spot, reaching behind her for the windowsill for support. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Mack stopped inches from her, his hand grasping her chin firmly. "I know exactly why you put up with me," he drawled softly, his eyes holding hers captive, his thumb stroking across her full bottom lip.
Jaimie jerked her head away, small teeth snapping at his thumb. "I'm glad one of us does." She crossed her arms protectively across her chest, trying to ignore the way her treacherous body remembered his. Her heart remembered the pain of loving him. "Fortunately, Kane is out of the shower and has saved your life." She pushed around him, forcing herself not to run. It took a great deal of control to walk away from him when anger and hurt and love warred with one another.
CHAPTER 6
Kane waved a forkful of biscuits and gravy in Jaimie's direction to emphasize his point. "That little blueberry muffin is not exactly nutritious, Little Miss Nag. And it wouldn't fill up my big toe."
"Chicken-fried steak, biscuits, and all that gravy ought to shoot your cholesterol level right up to the moon." Jaimie was all righteousness. Her vivid blue gaze pinned Mack, who was trying unsuccessfully to become part of the woodwork. "And no one eats four eggs. That's your week's worth in one sitting. We all studied nutrition, remember?"
"You studied it and forced us to eat the most god-awful concoctions known to man," Mack protested.
"I'm allergic to all that nutritious stuff," Kane said soberly. "Absolutely allergic. Remember the brewer's yeast, Mack? Didn't she almost kill me with brewer's yeast?"
"She killed the popcorn," Mack remembered.
"You were smothering the popcorn in butter," Jaimie was indignant. "Someone had to save you. Hardening of the arteries. You two are getting on in years, you know." She smirked at them rather smugly and at the same time took a quick glance around her.
They weren't alone. She saw Brian and Jacob having breakfast in a booth facing the
m just to her left. At the table nearest the door, Marc drank coffee across from Ethan, who seemed engrossed in a newspaper. She had caught a brief glimpse of Javier, looking like a teenager with his boyish good looks, and Lucas, looking like a model in a business suit, moving through the crowded street as they'd entered the restaurant.
Both Mack and Kane scowled across the table at her fiercely, hoping to intimidate her. "Getting on in what years?" Kane demanded ominously.
Jaimie broke off a small piece of blueberry muffin, unconcerned with their threatening posture--after all, she had all the boys surrounding her and presumably they were there for her protection. "It's a fact of life. Everyone has to come to terms with aging. One should take a few precautions."
"A few precautions sounds like an excellent idea," Kane grumbled. "Pitching you into the ocean might be a good start."
"I thought we might take a walk over the Golden Gate this afternoon," Mack suggested helpfully, in complete agreement.
"You two have a disturbing penchant for violence," she chided. "Perhaps you should see a shrink. I noticed it way back in high school. All those contact sports, football, boxing, fencing, karate." She shook her head mournfully. "Violent."
"We had a little vamp to protect," Kane defended. "We had to be prepared."
"I beg your pardon?" Icicles dripped from her voice. There was a distinctly regal look about her.
"She was never a vamp," Mack disagreed. "But you were a beautiful innocent and every wolf for a hundred miles was stalking you." There was a caressing note in the deep timbre of his voice. "We had to keep a close watch."
Jaimie burst out laughing, the sound turning heads. "You're crazy. The two of you obviously have a far different memory of our past than I do."
The two men exchanged easy grins. "You never did see things you didn't want to." Kane was pleased with himself; it wasn't easy diverting Jaimie when she was off on one of her tangents on nutrition. There was no way she hadn't noticed the rest of the team infiltrating the restaurant to protect her. He knew she loved them all; she'd grown up with them, so she was happy to see them, but she didn't like what they represented--violence, a way of life, the very thing she'd worked so hard to get out of. He wanted her happy, teasing, that carefree laugh and bright eyes to remain for as long as possible.