"It's dangerous work, honey. Security guards don't have all that much training. Or worse, if it's a government enterprise, you might run across an itchy trigger finger somewhere."
"Oh, please, Mack, let's not start discussing dangerous jobs." Jaimie swept her tousled hair from her forehead. The moment she released the silky strands, they settled right back in a soft, thick halo.
"You knew that was coming." Kane laughed, his head back, uninhibited, the way he always laughed. But his eyes weren't laughing, Jaimie noted. "And you deserved it."
"Get your gear out of the middle of the hallway," Mack said.
"He always resorts to dishing out orders when you get the best of him," Kane reminded Jaimie.
"Speaking of dishes, clean your mess up," Jaimie said primly.
"No one was speaking of dishes," Kane denied. "I said dishing, dishing, you know, like . . ." He trailed off with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, all right, then, but this is under protest. You used to do our dishes."
"I was twelve and you blackmailed me," Jaimie said, scowling darkly at him. "If I didn't, you weren't going to let me go to any of the football games." She tilted her chin. "Now I call the shots."
"Says who?" Mack flipped her over so she landed on her stomach. Instantly his leg was across her thighs, his upper body pinning her down. He leaned wickedly close, his warm breath on the nape of her neck. "I just let you think you call the shots, honey. I draw the line at this Spagnola character."
"Mack, let me up." Jaimie tried not to laugh. She wasn't going to encourage him. He felt so familiar, so right, but she knew better, and playing around with him was like playing with fire. Sooner or later she was going to get burned. On the other hand, he was waiting for her to fight with him over sharing the bed and she wasn't going to do it. He would never touch her with Kane in the room. He might want to, but he was exhausted and Kane was a good chaperone. She was safe, and she could act like it meant nothing to her. Let him think it didn't matter to her at all.
"Will you two stop horsing around?" Kane yawned. "It's three o'clock in the morning. Let's turn in."
"The great TV watcher." Mack reluctantly shifted his weight from Jaimie. He took great care to retain his hard-won portion of the bed. "Pack it in, honey, hotshot has spoken."
"I'm not sharing my sheets," Jaimie announced with a fierce, meant-to-be-intimidating scowl. "You can sleep on top of the covers."
"I bought them," Mack pointed out, tracing the hand-embroidered dragon nearest him. "That should give me a few rights."
"I'll share my other pillow," Jaimie conceded, "but only because you sent me all those dragons." She loved the collection of dragons, mostly given to her by Kane and Mack over the years. She might forgive him a little just for that.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Kane protested. "You know that jeweled one from Egypt? I bought that one."
"Like hell you did. You were making goo-goo eyes at some belly dancer, as I recall," Mack lied, settling more comfortably onto the mattress, his thigh touching Jaimie's.
It had been so long and she felt like heaven, all soft skin and heat. She smelled a little like heaven too. It was only the fact that he was so exhausted that he dared take a chance sharing her bed again. Jumping her was not the way to win her back, but keeping the old familiar footing would go a long way toward smoothing his path.
Kane retrieved the rest of their luggage and dumped it unceremoniously in the corner of Jaimie's bedroom. "The man said you looked like an assassin; he wouldn't take your traveler's check. I paid, remember. Is the couch comfortable?"
"Aren't you two supposed to be used to roughing it?" Jaimie demanded, exasperated with both of them. "And Kane never makes goo-goo eyes at women. That's you."
"I paid you back, Kane," Mack insisted, ignoring Jaimie.
"When did you pay me back?" Kane asked suspiciously, as he headed for the bathroom.
"You're in a lady's house," Mack called out. "Don't forget the toilet seat. And it was in Milan."
"I can't believe you said that." Jaimie was horrified. "I'd forgotten what it was like sharing a house with men." She buried her face in the coolness of the pillow.
"He isn't very well trained," Mack explained loud enough for Kane to hear.
"Turn on the alarm, Kane," Jaimie reminded as the man emerged wearing a long-suffering expression and navy blue sweats. She smiled to herself. Sweats seemed to be quite the rage in nightwear when she'd bet her bottom dollar they never slept in clothes if they could help it.
Kane activated the alarm, rolled out his sleeping bag on the couch, and turned off the light. "It wasn't Milan."
"I paid your fine so you wouldn't go to jail. Hell, Kane, you tried to steal the cop's hat."
"You dared me to." There was a flurry of rustling sounds, a loud thump announcing Kane hitting the floor. Fortunately, his censored comments were muffled by the carpet.
"Never try sharing a bed with him," Mack advised. "Jaimie?" Now his voice turned very casual. "Professor Chilton was one of your instructors at Stanford, wasn't he? How did he end up in London doing consulting work?"
"His brother-in-law worked in some capacity for a corporation. He recommended Professor Chilton after the company had a series of breakins. It was lucky for me he checked into the same hotel I had gone to after I . . ." She broke off, grateful the lights were out. She didn't have anything to be ashamed of. She'd left because she had to go in order to survive. If Mack couldn't understand that, too bad.
A hint of defiance entered her voice. "I checked into a hotel after I left our apartment and the next morning I ran into him in the lobby. We had breakfast together; I really needed a friend. Naturally, we talked electronics. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was in business." She didn't add that running into the professor had given her the freedom to keep from running back to Mack, afraid and a failure. It had actually felt good to make her own decisions and be responsible for her own life, once she'd gotten past the pain of separation.
"So you think you're good enough to make it on your own?" Kane prompted. He took a few minutes to get settled again.
The room was pitch-black, Jaimie's eyes working to adjust as she stared up at the ceiling. "I was better than Chilton, Kane, right from the start. He knew it too. I used his name and he used my expertise. He's back teaching--that's what he loves--and I've got enough of a reputation now to hold my own. It worked out great."
"So you actually break into buildings?" Mack didn't sound happy about it.
"Sure, I study the security system and find a way to beat it. The theory being, of course, if I can do it, so can someone else. Then I try to design a system exclusive to the particular needs, setting, and personnel of the client. Sometimes it's a onetime shot; other times I'm on retainer as a full-time consultant. I'm also developing new software for a bomb detector. There's a lot of interest in that."
"I've got to hand it to you, Jaimie"--Kane's voice was frankly admiring--"you've done well for yourself."
Beside her, Mack stirred restlessly. Jaimie ignored him. "Thank you," Jaimie said softly to Kane. She refused to care whether Mack approved of what she did or not. She thumped the pillow and snuggled deeper, trying to ignore his close proximity.
"I didn't spot your cameras." Kane was casual, his voice coming out of the darkness from the direction of the couch.
"My cameras?" Jaimie turned toward the wall, curling up, her voice drowsy, unconsciously sensual.
"None of our team triggered the alarm. I looked at the tapes myself yesterday during the report. You know we always record any action. We made it into the warehouse clean, yet you knew we were there. You even knew who we were. You grabbed the frying pan instead of the gun."
Mack could feel Jaimie go perfectly still. Her body trembled. She twisted the edge of the sheet between her fingers. Without conscious thought, Mack's hand went to the nape of her neck, easing the tension out of her.
Kane allowed the silence to stretch and lengthen. It was a full five minutes lat
er before his soft, insistent voice disturbed the night. "The cameras, Jaimie, where are they?"
"I didn't bother with cameras on the ground floor." Although she sounded sleepy, Mack was certain she was selecting her words carefully. "The cameras will be on the second floor."
Mack found himself smiling at the misleading nuggets of information. She hadn't changed much. She was less sure of herself with them when it came to work. She was picking and choosing what information she wanted to give them, but she had a difficult time not falling into the old pattern of camaraderie and friendship.
"And Kane," Jaimie added, "I don't use a gun."
Kane didn't buy any of it and was being unusually stubborn, not letting her off the hook. "So how did you know?" he persisted.
Jaimie curled up away from Mack, settling back into the pillow, snuggling beneath the covers. "I guess you must have been a little noisier than you thought." There was a lazy note of humor now.
"Damn it, Jaimie." Kane was frustrated. "That's not possible."
"No?" She was laughing openly at him now. "Then it had to be my acute sense of smell. Take your choice. What other explanation is there?"
Kane's curse was only partially muffled by his sleeping bag. Beneath his hand, Mack could feel Jaimie's shoulder shake slightly with laughter. She had managed to elude Kane's questions again, the same questions he and every instructor and field operative she had been pitted against had asked.
Mack lay still, savoring the feel and scent of Jaimie. His arm curved possessively around her waist. Her breathing stopped for a moment, her body tense. He smiled to himself as she fought with herself. Which was the lesser of the two evils? Let him have this one little thing? Or provoke him into something more dangerous by protesting? She left his arm in place with a soft little sigh.
Mack was fairly satisfied with the way things had gone. They had danced around each other, but Jaimie had missed him every bit as much as he had missed her. It was there in her eyes. She was determined to bring them to a brother/ sister relationship, to treat him as she would Kane or Javier, but he was just as determined to get her back. And he never stopped when he wanted something, whether it was personal or work. He would find a way around every argument.
His grip on her tightened involuntarily. He had known, two years ago, he was falling deeper and deeper under her spell, but he hadn't known how much a part of him she really was. Until he woke up one morning to find her gone. Life went from laughter and adventure to a bleak, desolate kind of hell. Oh, he had functioned, like an automaton, but the best part of him was gone.
He knew the exact moment she let go and drifted off to sleep. She slept with all the trusting innocence of child, her body warm and pliant, her face so beautiful he ached inside. Everything masculine and protective welled up in him along with very primitive possessiveness. He eased his body beneath the covers, molding around her, a kind of heaven and hell. His arm clamped around her, his chin resting on her silky head.
Slow, smoldering desire flared into urgent demand. His body burned for her, an unmerciful, relentless, savage need. His skin crawled with it, his head pounded. The heat was a living flame until every inch of his skin was burning. Mack McKinley was a man who lived with the truth about himself. He recognized his strengths and weaknesses, he acknowledged the hidden demons he controlled with absolute discipline. He carried a kind of ice-cold rage in him, but still, this shook him. This felt out of control, beyond control even. He didn't need the complication of fierce, combustible chemistry raging between them. He wanted to court her slowly and carefully, seal her to him for eternity. This time she wasn't getting away from him.
Jaimie moved in her sleep, the curve of her bottom sliding invitingly, painfully, over his throbbing, aroused body. Mack nearly groaned out loud. So, okay, this wasn't working out the way he had planned. He rolled over, away from Jaimie, silently cursing his body's raging need. He had been with her hundreds of times, taking her each night, almost every morning they'd been together, but the hunger had never been so strong, so urgent. Just the scent of her filled him with such a powerful need he wasn't certain he had the strength to resist. The urge was almost animalistic. He shifted positions again, trying to ease the relentless aching.
A soft chuckle floated tauntingly from the center of the room. "Can't sleep?" Kane asked.
"Go to hell," Mack growled, resisting the urge to throw something.
"I think you're screwed, Mack. If it's as bad as I think, that bastard paired you two. You were already attached physically and emotionally. Good luck."
Mack knew Kane was referring to Dr. Whitney's infamous breeding program. He had paired GhostWalker males with some of the females. Kane had served a short period of time at one of the breeding facilities--in fact, he'd aided some of the women in escaping. Brian had also served at one of Dr. Whitney's facilities. Few knew where the doctor was working; he moved in secret and was heavily guarded at all times. Mack and Kane had come to the conclusion that it was not in anyone's best interest to work with or near him.
Kane had testified in a closed hearing, as had Brian, turning over evidence of Whitney's breeding program to Sergeant Major Griffen, as per the chain of command, but the meeting had been top secret and no one knew the outcome. The men had rejoined Team Three under Colonel Wilford's command and had gone on several missions. Griffen worked directly under the colonel and presumably had turned all evidence and reports over to him. Kane didn't talk about his time with Whitney, but he hadn't slept much since and he'd definitely been searching for someone. Mack was fairly certain it was one of the women he'd helped escape the breeding compound. Mack still had trouble believing such a thing had existed.
"Tell me about pairing. What is that?"
Kane sighed. "Are you sure you want to know? Sometimes it's better to keep your head in the sand."
"Tell me about Whitney," Mack insisted.
Mack did his job and took his men where the sergeant major directed them. They had a damn good record when it came to rescuing hostages from cities where no one knew who was the enemy and who was innocent. He enjoyed being enhanced with all the added things it allowed him to accomplish, but the rumors he was hearing about some of the experiments Whitney had conducted along with the genetic enhancements made him realize they were dealing with someone who might be brilliant but as mad as a hatter.
"He's been allowed to do whatever he wanted without answering to anyone for so long that he believes himself above the law, above even the president. He considers himself a great patriot and defender of the country. He believes the end justifies the means."
"So basically you're telling me that everything Jaimie told me about him and his experiments is probably true and I should have listened to her."
"Yeah. That's what I'm saying. I said it back then too. She's too damn smart to ignore."
"I hear a reprimand in there."
"I'm just saying, you hurt Jaimie again and I'm going to tear out your heart and feed it to you."
Kane sounded casual enough, but he wasn't kidding. Kane, like most of his team, was protective of women. Mack's mother had been the one stable influence most of them had. All of them had developed what the psychs referred to as being overprotective. And maybe they all were, but when it came to women, they didn't like anyone messing around with them.
Kane had risked his career, his life, everything he was, to do the honorable thing and help the women get out of the facility where they were being held. Orders or not, as far as Kane was concerned, what Whitney had demanded of them wasn't honorable. He had done everything in his power to take the evidence to the commanders to get it stopped. Now Kane had a deep distrust of Whitney and the chain of command, which meant Mack did also. Ever since Kane had returned from that assignment, Mack had watched his best friend's back even closer.
"I hear you."
"And the next time she tells you something is a red flag, put your damned ego aside and listen to the woman."
"I'm all about the listening." Mac
k sounded as pious as possible.
Kane rolled over and groaned. "I'm getting back on the couch. I swear, if we're staying here for any length of time, I'm buying a bed tomorrow."
"We're staying. And you're getting soft. You've slept on the ground more than you've slept in a bed over the last few years. You're also getting old."
"Says the boss from his superior position on a nice soft bed."
"It's a single bed, Kane. It may be soft, but there isn't much to it, and lying next to her is killing me."
"Then move, you stubborn bastard."
"Not a chance. I'm establishing my territory. She's not going to let me back into her life so easily. She's made up her mind to stay away from me."
Kane tried to make himself smaller on the couch. He had a thick, heavily muscled chest and big arms. One kept flopping off the couch uncomfortably.
"You know, Mack, things aren't always black and white. Sometimes, for whatever reasons, we have to do things that we can't live with. They just sit in the gut and keep you up at night. We're all wired differently. You have a gift, something inside you that lets you make a decision and live with the consequences. The rest of us aren't so lucky. Jaimie had to do what she did to survive. After what I saw in that compound with Whitney, if I could get out, I would, but they aren't going to let any of us go. Not now. It isn't about the money and training anymore. We're too dangerous to them."
Mack was silent, turning the words over in his mind. Kane had come back troubled from his last assignment. Not only troubled, but suddenly very leery of every mission, questioning everything, as Jaimie had. Mack had known then that the questions in his mind, the doubt rising up with each new nugget of information about Whitney and his experiments, weren't just because Jaimie had planted the seed and suspicion was growing.
Kane and Brian had come to him, careful of what they said, fearful that they were on a death list and not wanting Mack to be there with them. He had gone up the chain of command and set into motion a hearing. He hadn't been allowed to go with his men.
"I'm sorry, Kane. You're right. I should have listened to her. I should have investigated what Whitney was doing before I took us all down this path. Once we were on it, I just wanted us all to survive." He had watched over them, trying to figure out what each of them had been gifted--or cursed--with and how best to cope with it.