Something was going on and the men didn't seem to question it as she had. Team Two was comprised of mainly SEALs. There had been a few shady things happening within that team as well. Jaimie scrubbed her hand over her face. Two of those men had been lured into the Congo and tortured, barely escaping with their lives. Someone was trying to destroy the teams. To her mind, the third team, Mack's team, was the most vulnerable.
As urban warfare specialists, Team Three was sent over and over into situations that would fray the nerves of the most skilled combatants. Urban warfare was a dangerous art, a unique combat that only the most gifted and steady men could really handle for long periods of time and, sadly, it was becoming a necessity. She feared for the team's vulnerability. If someone in their own government was working against them, it wouldn't be that difficult to put them in harm's way.
As for the fourth team, comprised of mainly the elite Air Force Pararescue Special Forces, they were ghosts in the wind, as was their commander. She had uncovered little about that team beyond their confirmed existence.
The tapping of a finger on the counter caught her attention. She looked up. You all right? Javier asked.
She nodded. But she wasn't. Her stomach was in knots and she wanted to throw up. This was not coincidence. She'd worked hard to get out of that life, to build a future, not only for herself but for the others. They would need it later, when all was said and done--if they survived. Psychics had a difficult time without a controlled environment. She meant to build up a surplus of money and a safe haven for her family. Instinctively, like she knew so many other things, she knew everything she'd worked for was being threatened.
Mack's voice whispered in Javier's ear this time, using the radio so Paul was a part of the orders. "Come up behind them, Kane."
Gideon's voice interrupted. "We've got a sleeper, boss. Third window, second story. I caught a flash."
"You certain?"
"Don't insult me. He had to have seen Javier take out his men."
There was a small silence as Mack examined the two dead men. "These men are military," Mack's voice nearly growled. "What the hell's going on?"
Javier's heart jumped. "You telling me I killed a couple of our own?"
"We're getting pictures and fingerprints. No IDs on them, but they're military. They came prepared to take her," Mack assured. "They have an injector that looks like a tranq, but we won't know until we test it. Ties. Firepower. They aren't innocent, so don't sweat it."
Easier said than done. Javier shook his head and tried a few deep breaths to settle his churning gut. His every instinct had told him they were the enemy, but military? The same side? "What the hell are we into here, boss?"
Jaimie shook her head. She couldn't hear what Javier was saying, but she could read lips. They were all questioning what they were involved in. She'd made a mistake thinking the government would let her go. Once a GhostWalker, always a GhostWalker. She thought working as an analyst would satisfy them, but obviously she'd been wrong. Whatever was happening, the power orchestrating behind the scenes was determined to draw her back in, and planned on using Mack and her family to do it.
A spurt of resentment had her kicking out at the wall in defiance. She'd told Mack. How like him to just go his own way with all of them following him, no one bothering to think about the how and why of anything. Now they were all in this mess. She'd done her best to convince them, but would any of them listen to her? She had a brain. A big brain. High school at eight. Graduating with honors from the University with a doctorate by the time she was twenty. Come on. Of course they wouldn't listen to her. Mack was so much smarter.
She kicked the wall a second time, wishing it was his shin. Mack. He was out there in the night, staring up at her window, gun slung around his neck, putting his men--no, not just his men; his family--in deadly peril, and loving every moment of it. Worse, even with all of her intellectual reasoning, she was just as bad as the others, following him anywhere he led, even when she knew it was down the wrong path.
Who could resist Mack? Not her. Certainly not her. And he was back. He'd looked at her so differently. Not even in the year they'd been lovers had he ever looked at her with that particular expression he'd worn tonight. Not even when passion had burned hot and out of control between them. Not ever.
She pressed a hand to her stomach. Did she never learn? He was poison to her. She forced herself to look at Javier, to concentrate on his lips.
"He's on the move," Mack's voice intoned in Javier's ear. "Don't let him get away."
"He's moving across the rooftops with incredible speed, boss," Gideon said. "I'm after him, but I don't have a prayer of catching this guy. He's souped-up with something."
"Who's on the move, boss?" Javier stirred, tried to peer out the window at the rooftop across from him. Something was moving fast, no more than a shadow. No more than a ghost. "The son of a bitch watching Jaimie?"
Jaimie's heart jumped. She always knew when she was being watched. Her internal alarm system never failed. How could it be possible that someone had set up to watch her and she hadn't known? Maybe Mack was wrong. Doubt ate at her. Mack was many things, but he was seldom wrong about this kind of thing.
"He's gone, boss," Gideon reported.
"We've got the bodies and we'll take them in. Gideon, you and Kane find out who's watching Jaimie. Go through that room with a fine-tooth comb. Get me something. Brian, you and Jacob follow the two creeping around Jaimie's warehouse and report back to me. I don't need to tell you that I don't want you seen and I don't want them dead." Mack paused. "Javier, get on Jaimie's computer and find everyone places to rent around Jaimie's warehouse. Scatter them so that we have every angle covered. Houseboats, whatever. If you have to arrange to get someone thrown out so we get what we need, do it. But do it tonight. Kane and I will be staying with Jaimie."
Javier glanced at Jaimie, who scowled back at him. "Does Jaimie know she's going to be having permanent guests, boss?"
Jaimie's eyes widened as she heard what he was saying. Javier turned away, feeling slightly guilty; after all, Jaimie was a sister of the heart. "I don't think she's going to like that much."
"Well, that's just too damn bad, now, isn't it, Javier," Mack said.
CHAPTER 3
Mack and Kane and all the boys hadn't been near her in two peaceful years. Now, within two hours of their arrival, it had started all over again. Blood and death. Jaimie stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the ever-changing motion of the dark water below. Javier had spent the night and the next day with her. Now he was gone and Mack and Kane were on their way up, finished with all their paperwork and cleanup and coming back to--what? She couldn't go back to that life with them. She wouldn't go back.
Facing Mack again was going to be tough, but she had to find a way to be nonchalant around him. He was family, just like all of them were. She had to keep it that way and not let the secret, hidden excitement at the thought of him overtake her brain. Hormones could be controlled. She didn't have to give in to her feelings. She'd out-think him and stay out of trouble.
She gave a little sniff of self-contempt. Even she wasn't buying what her mind was selling. The freight elevator door opened on the far side of the room and she turned to see Kane and Mack emerge. They both looked exhausted, lines etched in their faces. They'd been up at least forty-eight hours before they'd even made it to San Francisco and they'd pulled another all-nighter cleaning up the mess Javier had made and then making their reports.
Her heart leapt with joy in spite of her determination to keep her perspective. She was in danger any way she looked at it. She padded across the floor on bare feet to stand in front of them, determined to start out in a position of power and authority; after all, this was her house and they weren't invited. "Just how long do you both think you're going to be staying here?" she demanded, pretending dismay at the pile of gear. With a bare toe, she touched a gun case. "It looks like a weapons dump in here. Is this really necessary?"
; Kane moved around the heap of drab-colored duffel bags and gathered her into his arms. He wasn't tall but he was a bear of a man, dwarfing her instantly. "Don't you ever, ever pull something like this again, Jaimie. You left us without a word. And you know damn well we couldn't follow you."
Kane wasn't a man to mince words, or to be afraid to face her wrath. The whole incident had been too damn traumatic for all of them and he didn't want it repeated. He hadn't said a word in front of the others, but she was going to hear him--especially after Mack had enlightened him about his conversation with her. She wasn't disappearing from their lives a second time.
Jaimie thought he was going to break every rib she had. He was squeezing the breath out of her as he emphasized his words.
It was Mack who came to her rescue, gently pulling her from Kane's grasp, a grin softening the hard edge of his mouth. "Don't kill her, Kane. I know we discussed it, but didn't we just decide on severe punishment?"
"Something like that. You look great, honey, too good to be out on your own without protection. What the hell was the frying pan for?"
Jaimie groaned in exasperation. "I've had the lecture, thank you very much." She threw a little glare toward Mack. "I was safer without a gun. And don't start in on my alarm system. I'm just testing various systems and I don't expect anyone but the average burglar to break in."
"Well, just look how wrong you can be." Kane's vivid green gaze was taking in the wide-open space. "Wow. Again I say wow."
"Admiration, I hope." Jaimie's hands went to her hips. "Respectful admiration. Mack didn't give me any."
"This place is out of sight."
Mack rolled his eyes. "I should have known you'd be as dippy as she is. It's a warehouse. Jaimie is living unprotected in a seamy part of town in a drafty old warehouse." Mack indicated the far corner. "Take a look at that pint-sized bed."
"Did you think you were going to take over my bed?" Jaimie demanded, her large eyes flashing a warning at him. He was not taking over her life or her bed.
"First order of business," Kane said. "Tomorrow, Jaimie, we get a couple of decent beds in here. You have any beer?" He was already striding toward the refrigerator.
"Of course she doesn't have any beer," Mack scoffed. "She doesn't drink. And where do you think you're going? You can't leave this stuff here."
Kane was peering in the brand-new, very modern refrigerator. "Uh-oh, little Jaimie has some explaining to do." He pulled out a bottle of Corona and popped off the top.
Mack's eyebrows shot up. "Didn't the doctors tell you not to drink alcohol, Jaimie?"
"Stop trying to sound like my father."
She attempted to shove him, her hand flat on his heavily muscled chest, but shoving Mack never worked. He simply brought up his hand to cover hers, pressing her palm over his heart.
"You don't have a father," Kane reminded, swallowing half the bottle of beer in one gulp. "That's our job."
Jaimie tugged to get her hand free. She never discussed her past if she could help it, not even with the ones who had seen her through it all.
"And we're good at it," Mack pointed out smugly. His hand kept hers trapped against his chest. "Why would you have beer in the fridge?"
"Entertainment purposes, and stop ruffling my hair." She ducked under Mack's hand.
"You cut it." Kane made it an accusation.
"It's just the right length for ruffling," Mack pointed out. "Entertaining who?"
"Whom," Kane corrected, his head back in the refrigerator. He came out with a handful of turkey slices. "Thank God you're over your vegetarian phase. I nearly starved."
Mack hefted two bags over his shoulder and followed Jaimie across the carpeted floor to the bedroom wall. "Who's she entertaining with beer?" he demanded. "Let's get some answers here."
"Stop harping." Jaimie curled up on the bed, watching him stow the gear in the corner.
"It isn't harping if I don't get an answer." Mack stood right in front of her, his dark, gleaming eyes on her face as he began to unbutton his shirt.
Jaimie couldn't tear her gaze away from his hair-roughened chest, the hard, defined muscles, his flat six-pack belly. She swallowed hard as his hands went to the waistband of his jeans. "Don't you dare take your clothes off in my bedroom, Mack."
He flashed a taunting grin. "You don't have an over-abundance of walls, little darlin'. Where exactly am I supposed to get undressed?"
"Well, not right here, for heaven's sake." Her long lashes fluttered in shock. "The bathroom would be much more appropriate."
Kane found a deep, comfortable armchair and sat down with a second beer and a sandwich. "Get away from that innocent little thing, you oversexed lout," he said mildly.
"Tell her to answer the question." Mack didn't take his glinting black gaze from her startling blue one as he dared her.
"I did answer your question. Go ahead and change in the bathroom." Jaimie's chin lifted belligerently.
"The other question, the important question. Who's the beer for, Jaimie?"
Her fist thumped the pillow. "You're going to make me crazy, Mack. All right. It's for my assistant, Joe Spagnola. Are you satisfied now?"
"Damn it, Jaimie," Mack snapped, his eyes blazing.
Kane sat up straighter, a dark frown on his face.
"Well, I couldn't do this alone," Jaimie hastily defended. "There's a lot of work and he's been invaluable."
Kane snorted derisively. "Invaluable."
"She gives him beer to drink," Mack muttered under his breath. "How old is your Joe Spagnola?"
Jaimie threw her hands in the air. "Look, he's thirty-two or so, I don't know. What difference does that make?"
"You got this guy up here drinking beer in your bedroom and you don't know what difference it makes?" Mack said, taking a step closer to the bed. His hands were at his sides, fingers opening and closing ominously. "Is he single?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
Kane hitched himself closer in the chair. "You bring that guy up here alone with you?"
Jaimie made a T out of her hands. "Whoa, there, guys. Stop right there. Time out. I'm not a teenager anymore and you are not my guardians." She glared up at Mack. "I'm not yours. You got that? I'm not yours. I know what you're thinking and you can just forget it. You aren't going to do one single thing to Joe. Not one. In fact, you will be polite to him."
Kane and Mack exchanged a long, wordless look. Mack turned away and stalked to the bathroom, every line in his body conveying pure outrage.
Jaimie threw her pillow after him. The pillow hit the bathroom door just as he closed it. "Don't egg him on, Kane," she ordered. "You know how impossible he is."
Mack called out to her from behind the bathroom door, his tone somewhere between a threat and suppressed rage. "Somehow I don't think your Joe is going to get along too well with us. Drinking beer in your bedroom. What will you think of next?"
"He was not drinking beer in my bedroom," Jaimie denied hotly. "Where do you come up with this stuff? And it wouldn't be any of your business if he did," she added furiously.
The bathroom door flew open so hard it slammed against the wall. Mack swept up the pillow, hardly breaking stride. He was wearing dove gray sweat bottoms, obviously a concession to her modesty, and nothing else. His body rippled with muscle, with pure strength, as he moved toward her with all the stalking grace of a predator.
"It's my business, honey, anytime anyone is in your bedroom. Scoot over." He tossed the pillow on the bed behind her.
"I'm not going to scoot over," Jaimie argued. "Find your own bed."
Mack sank down on the edge of the mattress, suppressing a grin as Jaimie automatically retreated. "It's late, Kane. You aren't going to sit up all night eating, are you?"
"I was thinking about watching television. Do you realize how long it's been since we watched TV?" Kane pulled off his shoes. "You lack closets, Jaimie girl. We'll have to do something about that."
"It's not finished yet," Jaimie pointed out. "But it will be so
mething when I'm all through. This floor will be my home, everything fairly open still, but with more cupboards and closets. The bathroom's great. We finished it last week. Admit it, Mack--the bathroom's a work of art with all that tile. It's a masterpiece."
Mack ruffled her hair again, deliberately easing his body farther onto the bed and stretching out his legs. "So, all right, that's true. The bathroom is a work of art. Even you, Kane, will appreciate it."
"Joe did it," she said smugly.
Mack swore under his breath and made a move toward her. She scrambled backward on the bed until her back was against the wall.
"What is all this, Jaimie?" Kane wasn't going to be polite and wait until she confided in them.
Jaimie drew up her knees, hugged them to her, rocking a little back and forth, her smile enough to blind a man. "The second floor is my lab, where I'll do all my planning and experimenting. The first floor will be an office, bathroom, and room for my models."
"Models?" Kane echoed.
"Of buildings. I own a security company. I've left Professor Chilton and branched out on my own. I started consulting work with him and now I'm swamped. I prove existing systems can be breached and design systems specifically for corporations. I have some government contracts, as I still do analytical work and retain my security clearance. That's where all my training comes in. I get to break into these places. It's very lucrative, not to mention fun."
"Does Spagnola do this work with you?" Mack's voice was very low.
"He's a builder, not an electronics expert," Jaimie answered. Out of long habit, she rubbed at his frowning mouth with her fingertip. "He's nice, Mack."
The trouble was, the feel of him was so achingly familiar. Mack's lips were velvet soft. He opened his mouth, his strong white teeth nipping her fingertip, sending unexpected liquid heat curling through her body. She snatched her hand away as if he had burned her, rubbing it on her thigh as if erasing his touch.