Street Game

  He stared at her back for a long moment, trying to find a way to reach her. Anything. The rage and pain of his loss were too close to the surface, rendering his quick brain useless. This was his Jaimie, yet not.

  "Jaimie," he said softly. "Talk to me."

  She kept her back to him. McKinley. She'd never called him McKinley, even when they'd been best friends. Cannon, McKinley, and Fielding. Where one had been, there was the other, but he had been Mack, always Mack.

  "Was this really an accident? A coincidence?"

  His fist tightened until his knuckles turned white. "Of course it was an accident. What else?"

  She turned around then, her large eyes luminous, beautiful. Eyes a man could get lost in. "It's a bit far-fetched, don't you think? You just happen to get the wrong warehouse and find me in it."

  "It's a small world."

  "Don't give me cliches, Mack," she cautioned. "You scared me to death. I thought you were a burglar."

  "And you were going to attack him with a frying pan? What the hell's the matter with you?" He had to keep his hands in check when he wanted to step forward and hold her trembling body against the shelter of his. When he needed to touch the silk of her hair and smooth the frown lines from her face.

  "I'm keeping a low profile. Shooting a burglar or beating the crap out of him is a good way to advertise my presence, isn't it?"

  He drew in his breath. "You're working undercover."

  She leaned against the sink and looked at him with her killer eyes. He felt the impact like a wicked punch to his gut and then lower, the pain reminding him he was more than alive.

  "I'm starting a new business that requires a good reputation, privacy, and respectability."

  "That's a load of bullshit. I'm family. If I'm nothing else to you, at least I'm that."

  Her eyes flashed fire at him. Threw sparks. "You broke my heart, Mack. You threw me away for your adrenaline rush. Well, you've got the life you wanted. I learned my lesson, and believe me, it was a hard one. You wanted sex and I was handy. I'm attracted to you and was willing to give you just about everything. I didn't see for a long, long time that that"--she jerked her chin toward the thick, rock-hard bulge in the front of his jeans--"was all that mattered between us, all that you were ever going to give me. It isn't ever going to be enough for me. I've got a life now, Mack. I'm never going to feel like that again, the way you made me feel. I hated myself. I don't want to see you again. I'm asking you to just stay away from me."

  "Like hell. Like hell I'll stay away from you." He stepped closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He burned for her. Every moment of every day. He couldn't think straight without her. She stilled his mind. Made him human. "I can't breathe without you, and damn you, you know it. You don't get over what we had. You can't. I can't. We belong together no matter what bullshit you're telling yourself."

  She shocked him by standing her ground. Staring at him. Her body was still, coiled and ready. She was trembling and there was a slight quiver to her perfect mouth, but she didn't crumble under his demand as she always had.

  "It was your choice to throw us away, Mack, not mine. I'm not going to argue with you about my feelings. You just aren't entitled to know what I'm feeling anymore. You aren't entitled to anything of mine. Not my body and not my heart."

  "Think again. If I kissed you, touched you, you'd still belong to me."

  She gave him that casual shrug that ripped his heart out and made him madder than hell. "Probably, Mack. We always had that firestorm to fall back on, but I realized something when you walked away from me: That's all we had. You told me what to do and I did it, like a puppet. Your puppet. I was good in bed, but you didn't need me for anything else. There are millions of women who are great in bed. Find one of them, one that just wants sex. I want more and I deserve more. I need more. You can't give me what I need, Mack. I've accepted that."

  He could hear the quiet acceptance in her voice and panic welled up. She wasn't stringing him along. She was serious. He risked a breath when his lungs burned for air. He took his gaze from her and looked around the huge warehouse. It was a home. Unique. Like Jaimie. She was far from Chi cago where they'd grown up. As far as she could get. She really hadn't provided the information. This wasn't her plan; someone else had gotten them together. She had made a new life for herself . . . There were flowers in a vase on a table. Roses. Red and white. Jaimie's favorite.

  Jealousy burst like a dam, flooding him with poisonous rage, a dark red stain that spread fast, gripping like a demon. She'd killed him when she disappeared, left him half a man and damn her, she'd just moved on as if he wasn't part of her heart and soul the way she was his.

  "Is there a fucking man living here with you?" He bit out each word. Wrenched the sounds between gritted teeth.

  "I'm not doing this with you. I told you I wanted a family, Mack."

  "We were a family. We are a family. It's always been us." And what the hell did that mean exactly? He continued to look around the spacious floor for signs of another man.

  "Do you remember what you said to me when I asked about getting pregnant?"

  "I told you it was fine."

  She shook her head. "That is not what you said, Mack. First you looked angry and you demanded to know if I was pregnant. When I didn't answer you, you said if I was pregnant, we'd handle it."

  "Well, we would have."

  "Handle it? That's not wanting a family, Mack. That's making the best of a bad situation; or worse, maybe your handling it was to suggest an abortion."

  "Damn it, Jaimie, I would never suggest you get rid of our baby. Is that what you thought? You know me better than that."

  "I thought I knew you. I thought we both wanted the same thing out of our relationship. It was a shock when I discovered I was wrong." She shrugged. "I handled it. But it's best if we don't see each other."

  "Because we belong together." There was smug satisfaction in his voice.

  "Because we aren't good for each other." There was finality in her tone.

  "Jaimie, are you happy?" Everything in him stilled. Waited. Her answer would determine his fate. He wouldn't ruin what Jaimie had if it was really what she wanted. Jaimie would never lie. She might avoid the question, but it wasn't in her to lie. He knew her too well.

  The tip of her tongue touched her lip. She blew on her tea, avoiding his eyes. "You didn't need a family, Mack. I was always surprised that so many didn't. I wanted desperately to belong. That was why I joined you in the first place and later did undercover work. I needed to belong somewhere, to feel I was part of something. I haven't found that yet, but I will. At least I know what's important to me and I'm going after it." She flashed him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll be all right."

  Everything in him settled again. If she wasn't happy, that meant he had a chance. It might be a slim one, but he was a GhostWalker and he thrived on slim chances.

  "I'm coming back. I have to go to work, Jaimie, but I'm coming back. If you have another man in your life, get rid of him. He isn't making you happy."

  Her eyes flashed again, tiny sparks. He felt the answer in his gut. He had never been able to stop his response to her, and since his psychic enhancement, the pull between them was electric. He remembered her as a teenager, a young girl, all eyes and hair and that awesome mouth. When she smiled she could make the sun rise. He'd never met anyone else as intelligent. She could keep up with him on any subject, her mind quick, like the computers she loved so much. He'd spent hours just talking to her back then, watching the animation on her face, knowing she was his--that she'd always been his.

  Very carefully she set the teacup onto the sink, more to keep from throwing it at him than to prevent him from seeing her hands shake. "I'm not starting up with you again, Mack. It took too much out of me. I loved seeing all of you. I've felt terribly alone these past couple of years, but I can't go there again. I'm asking you to please leave me alone."

  He stepped close, crowding her body with
his so she could feel the heat radiating from his body and the brush of hard muscles against her soft curves. "Honey." His voice was gentle, tender even, as it only managed to be with Jaimie. "You might as well ask me to stop breathing." He caught her chin in his hand and lifted her face to force her to meet his gaze. "You're home to me, Jaimie. I'm tired of being without you. I've never wanted anyone else. I'm not walking away from you. Not after finding you again. I don't care if someone threw us together on purpose. I don't care how it happened. And don't try disappearing. Don't do it, Jaimie. This time I'll come looking, and God help both of us if I have to kill a man over you."

  She jerked her chin out of his hand. "I hate the way you have to be so alpha, beat your chest all the time. I'm not a bone to fight over."

  "No, you're a woman worth everything on this earth to me."

  "Well, that's a big change, isn't it?"

  "I'm not fighting with you. God knows we did enough of that. I'm done fighting with you. I want to come home."

  She pushed at the wall of his chest. The shove didn't even rock him. A flicker of anger crossed her face. "You haven't changed at all."

  "You always loved me just the way I am, Jaimie, alpha or not."

  "I was a kid and anything you did was incredible and cool. I'm all grown up now and I know the difference between physical attraction and love. I want love. I want a family. I won't settle for anything less and you don't have that kind of commitment in you. You aren't tearing out my heart, Mack. Go do your thing. Get your adrenaline rush, but when you come back all hot and bothered, find another woman to expend all that energy on, because I'm not available."

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, always a bad sign. It took discipline to keep his hands off of her. "We'll see, Jaimie. I'm coming back and I'd better find you here, alone."

  He turned on his heel and stalked out.

  CHAPTER 2

  Kane sank back on his heels. "I don't like this, Mack. We've got two guards sitting in the warehouse playing cards. Other than that, there's no one. I can't detect heat anyplace else. If the weapons are really there, why aren't they being heavily guarded? Are we really going to believe that we tracked these weapons through three countries and during all that time they were under heavy guard, and now they're just left unattended in a warehouse a block from Jaimie?"

  "Yeah." Mack sighed. "Hard to swallow, all right. Madigan is a savvy arms dealer. He would never let the Doomsday group know where he had the weapons, and he sure as hell wouldn't leave them exposed where anyone could take them. Maybe we're too late."

  "Only way to know is to go inside and check it out," Kane said, reluctance in his voice.

  Brian slid forward on his belly, keeping his body low. "Gideon reported in. He's on the roof. No cameras, no guards. Something doesn't smell right. There're a few alarms Javier could easily bypass."

  Mack looked at the faces around him. He'd known them all since they were boys. Knew each one, knew they'd follow him to hell and back. And the new kid. Paul. Just a young pup, his face showing fear, his eyes determined.

  "No, it doesn't smell right, Brian," he agreed. "Jacob, you and Ethan work your way around to the other side of the building and take a look up and down those warehouses. Keep your ass low and tell me if we've got surprises waiting for us. This isn't Oz, boys, so no heroes. You might run into a few civilians here and there. Stay out of sight."

  "Yes, Mama, we know the drill," Jacob said.

  "I mean it, no heroics. We don't know what we're into here," Mack reiterated, pinning them both with a stern eye.

  Jacob Princeton nodded and he and Ethan slithered down the steps like two fast-crawling snakes, rolled into the shadows, and disappeared. Mack scanned the warehouse once again. "Kane, check every warehouse. Look for a grouping or singles--sentries or a group bunched up ready to come at us. They have to be hidden somewhere. Marc, you and Lucas find us at least two clear routes out of here. Take us up and over the rooftops."

  He wasn't taking his men into a trap. He was going to ram this right back down their throats. But . . . He glanced at Javier Enderman. Javier looked the least like a soldier of any of them, and yet was maybe the most lethal.

  "Get back to Jaimie, Javier. You know what to do. She won't like it and she'll give you hell, but you kill anyone that comes near her. Don't let anyone in or out of her place. I don't have to tell you what Jaimie means to me . . ."

  "To all of us," Javier corrected. "She's ours too, Mack. I won't let anyone get to her."

  "I want to hear your voice in my ear every second, Javier. You suspect anything, I want you telling me. Don't wait to confirm. I want to know if her neighbor blinks or a rat makes its way in. You got me?" He wanted to go himself, but Javier would stick to Jaimie like glue and no one, no one, was better up close and personal than Javier.

  "I'll keep her safe, Top."

  "Don't trust anyone, not even those we know. We've got a rat problem ourselves."

  Paul stirred, frowned, and then glared at Mack. "Are you accusing me of something?"

  "You're just the new kid, Paul," Mack said. "Not necessarily the rat. And if we all get blown to hell, I'm guessing you're going to be right alongside us."

  Javier winked at the boy. "That doesn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense, although if you were a dumbshit rat, maybe it would."

  Paul stared at them for a long moment, obviously making up his mind whether or not to take offense. He seemed satisfied that they didn't consider him the rat and shrugged. "I'm no dumbshit rat."

  "Glad to hear it, boy. Just the same, I'm keeping a close eye on you, so stick to me like glue," Mack said, and winked at him.

  Javier slid back into the shadows and worked his way down the fire escape to the uneven sidewalk. He stayed low, sticking as close to the side of the building as he could, his gaze restless, moving along the buildings. There were too many windows and doorways. Tension wound him tight, coiling his gut tighter and tighter. Every entryway was a potential threat. Each boat tied up to the wharf. Every car. Everywhere he looked, above and around him, were places the enemy could easily be hiding.

  Voices had him crouching low, a statue, not so much as breathing in the cool night air, not wanting the vapor trail to give him away. Nerves stretched taut. Couple of civvies, Top. The two men were older, grizzled. Unlikely terrorists, their heavy worn sweaters smelled of fish and age, yet their belts were heavy with tools. He could see a knife tucked down into a scabbard lying along each man's thighs.

  That was the trouble with urban warfare. You had to have good instincts, nerves of steel, good eyesight, and fast processing to be able to move through a city where anyone--man, woman, or child--could be a potential enemy.

  Don't go hero on me, Javier. We're all going home tonight.

  Mack's determination flooded Javier with warmth. He didn't ever like to admit it, but even Mack's lectures could make him feel as though he belonged.

  Javier waited in silence, unmoving, watching the two old men shuffle along the sidewalk until they came to a car. The vehicle seemed as beat-up as they were. He watched them drive down the street, the car hiccupping and puffing out gasps of black smoke.

  We're good here. Just a couple of C.O.B.s. Javier reported the two civilians in the battle zone. He stayed in the shadows as he made his way down the blocks of warehouses back up toward Jaimie's place.

  So far he'd had good cover, and there were few people out so late. The wharf was quiet, although music blared somewhere off to his right and Javier could smell the distinct odor of marijuana. Kids, he guessed, finding a place to hang out and stay warm when they had nowhere else to go. He remembered those days, when the wind blew cool and cruel and he would look up at the windows mocking him with warmth and laughter, the days when his world was so stark and hungry and he was utterly alone. He'd thrown a few rocks in those days, angry and starving for both food and affection, until Mack had found a couple of street bullies stalking him and intervened. He hadn't told Mack the toughs would have lost the battle. He d
idn't want to take chances that he wouldn't fit in and Mack would throw him back.

  He'd stayed quiet and looked as young and as nerdy as he could. He had better than 20/20 vision, yet he often hid his dark eyes behind thick clear lenses. He had been smarter than just about anyone until he met Mack. The man had changed his life. Brought him purpose and definitely saved him from a life of crime.

  He felt a smile coming on. He got to do all the things he wanted to do, but now they were legal. Of course, Mack kept a close rein on him. Just as well. Sometimes he went totally berserk and didn't have a lick of sense. Mack was always the voice of reason and things like this--this assignment, being chosen to guard Jaimie--were signs of respect and just made him love Mack all the more.

  He was coming up to the open area. Jaimie had picked her location carefully. Her warehouse could be approached from water on one side or by land on three sides. Two of the three sides were as open as they could get. Anyone coming at her would have to expose themselves. She could sit up in her tower and pick them off one at a time--if that was Jaimie's way, which they all knew it wasn't. She would have an escape route. More than one. Jaimie was the biggest pacifist he knew. What she saw--and loved--in all of them, he never knew. They were all fighters, but like Mack, Jaimie was family, and he'd go to hell and back for family.

  He stayed very still, scanning the area, his gaze quartering from rooftops to windows and then sweeping along the open sidewalk. Two men rounded the corner and paused to light cigarettes, hands shielding the flames, hiding their faces in the brief flare of light, but not before he caught a glimpse of their eyes. They were dressed in casual fishermen gear, but two things caught his attention. Their boots and their eyes. They were doing the same thorough scanning of the area, and he saw them look upward several times, toward that third floor where Jaimie Fielding was probably dropping off to sleep.

  Jaimie's about to get company, Mack, he reported.