Armed And Dangerous (The McKinnon Legends - The McKinnon American Men Book 2) (13 page)

He laughed softly, almost wickedly, pulling the small drop of blood away from his neck with the tip of his finger. Surprising her, he took that drop and placed it on her lip. He watched as on reflex the tip of her tongue flicked the blood away. He heard the sharp intake of her breath. He quickly reached out, pulled her to him, and kissed her passionately. He took her bottom lip and purposefully nipped it, bringing blood. His mingled with hers. He tasted her and she was sweet nectar. That kiss was demanding, giving, taking, denying, and granting all rolled into one. It was something neither had ever felt before.

He pulled away drawing from years of self control.

“Now, you have intimate knowledge, Doll, what pure power and lust tastes like.” He pulled away realizing what he might have just done to them.

He stepped back, placing a little space between their heated bodies, not trusting himself not to attack her for very different reasons than to teach her a lesson. “Consider us even. Now, you will be able to imagine what I can do to you, as well.” He narrowed his eyes raking her from head to toe and back.

She was beginning to see just how dangerous Mason could be. There was something there just below the surface. Gone was the immature and reckless young man, and in his place was a seasoned warrior, cold and deadly to his core. He was pure power and pure male, just as he said, and they had just tasted each other in a very intimate way.

Blood, giver of life, was the essence of a person’s whole being. She could still taste him on her lips and in her mouth as the molecules traveled through her own veins.

Could he protect me? She found herself asking.

Never doubt it, her mind quickly answered.

Could he conquer your soul?

Never doubt that either, her mind flatly stated.

Hell will freeze first, she countered inwardly.

He hardened even further. “Don’t ask the question if you can’t take the answer, Doll.” It was as if he knew what she had been thinking. He did. His mind was telling him the same. “She is mine!” He thought when he looked at her.

“Go to hell, you overbearing bastard,” she said while pushing past him, heading back toward their tent.

“Barbara,” he softly called after her. There was not a hint of the anger he felt flowing, pulsing hot through his veins.

“What!” Barking, she turned back to him, angry with herself for feeling that very strong power and the lust coursing through her body.

“Don’t ever call me a bastard and don’t ever go outside the tent without me again.”

“Bastard,” she just glared at him, dropping the flap back over her single word.

Police Headquarters

Panama City

“Sir, I’m not sure what to make of it. One minute they are close and all soft and cuddly, the next they are killing each other. She cut him this morning.”

“They’re married all right,” Juan Redondo commented dryly as he received the update.

He had the couple tracked from the resort for the sole purpose of keeping tabs on what happens in his country. As the head of the Panamanian National Police, he had a right to know. The minute they entered through customs and immigration, he was notified. That alone made him wonder what was going on and if the couple really were on a honeymoon. Usually, something this overt could not be clandestine. They would have known authorities would be alerted to their presence. Crashing their reception had been fortuitous giving him the opportunity to get an up close and personal vibe from them. They were lovers, no doubt. Who could blame either? He could smell the desire and raw sexuality on the woman after the couple completed the dance together.

The name McKinnon was not lightly bantered around, and he had just discovered what he felt was the real reason the couple inserted their presence into Panama at this moment in time.

Del Torres.

Juan spit on the ground at the thought of the slime ball who was a hold-over from the drug days of General Noriega.

He would continue to have them watched. It could be coincidence and then again not. And who was to say? They might prove handy in eliminating the one person who he could not touch.

Mason could plainly see the bruises on her arms and upper back. Their sparring had not been gentle, but full of healthy competition. He had several sore places of his own. He did not feel badly about those bruises, his or hers. They were superficial and would not last long.

Besides, like any gentleman, he let her take the lead and set the pace in that dance. They both had enjoyed it. Well, enjoyed it until the point that she cut him.

What he had not noticed before was the blood coating her jeans. That was something new and troubling.

What he did feel bad about was the fact she was compensating for her right shoulder and any further damage that he might have done to her there. While they were fighting it had been subconscious, nevertheless he sensed her weakness on that side of her body when they were sparring. So, he
might
, and he used the word cautiously, have taken advantage to gain the upper hand. If he hurt her, it was not intentional.

As a result of her giving into her injury, she was pulling harder with her left arm as they paddled. He was constantly course correcting because of it.

“Take a rest, Barbara. I have it. Give your shoulder a break,” he offered. They were heading with the current and the going was much easier.

He fully expected her to argue and push back on him. Instead, she immediately set the oar in her lap and began rolling her head from side to side and massaging her neck and shoulder.

“How bad is the pain?” he asked as they continued to glide down the estuary.

He saw her shrug.

“Worse than some days, better than others. Can you toss me my pack?” She needed an aspirin.

“When did it happen?” he asked handing her backpack to her.

Mason had several hours to look at her back, neck, and shoulder as they made steady progress. The scarring was not fresh. It was not old either.

She hesitated. “2002.”

“Is that why you retired?”

“Yeah, something like that. They offered me a desk job. I almost lost my mind day-in and day-out seeing others doing the job I loved and couldn’t do any longer.”

Mason could relate to that. He was not sure what he would do if he could not have his missions and sports.

“That was when you bought out Chase and me in the business.” The time frame made sense.

She nodded.

Mason guided the kayak into a small cove shaded from the relentless sun. The shade was a welcome respite. Barbara was hungry and in more then just a little pain, both making her edgy.

“Can I ask how it happen,” he asked as they tied off the gear and settled on a soft area to eat and rest away from the others in the party.

“Why is it important to you, Mason? So you can lord it over me and hold it over my head?” she snapped back at him. He really did not deserve it, and she was sorry almost the moment it left her lips. She was hungry and it always made her snippy. She knew better and should just keep her mouth shut.

She was also touchy on the subject and hated thinking about it. She hated the fact she had scars. She hated the fact she despised the scars. But more so, she hated the fact that she failed in her mission and the scars were a daily reminder, one she could never escape short of joining those in the ground she failed to protect and save.

“Damn it, Barbara! Did it ever occur to you that I really want to get to know you?” Why she persisted in being so difficult, he would never know.

“No, Mason. It didn’t. It’s not usually your M.O. now is it?”

Could he really have innocent reasons for prying into one of the most horrific days of her life? She had never known him to be serious a day in his life about getting to know a woman. The parade of woman Mason McKinnon sported was legendary. You cannot get to know a woman if you only date them once.

“No, it isn’t usually my way, but humor me,” he asked dryly.

“All right,” she helped her plate and came to sit back down beside him, crossing her legs Indian style. “We were on a routine intelligence recon in the Philippines, strictly Green Side.”

There was their first mistake, Mason thought. No Recon is ever
‘just routine’
and to think so just gets you killed.

“There was a band of particularly nasty guerillas operating in the area around a satellite communication station on the northernmost tip of the mainland of Palawan.”

“About four hundred and fifty kilometers from Manila. I know the place. Nice beaches. Great surfing.”

“Do you want to hear this or not?” she asked.

He realized he was digressing and motioned for her to continue.

“We were there to see if we could get a bead on who the satellite tracking station belonged to and we were not to engage the local enemy under any circumstances. It was strictly keyhole operations. We were just carrying light protection and had no backup,” she offered as she ate.

“That was dumb. Even I know to expect the unexpected.” He was thinking he needed to swallow a dose of his own medicine. He had not expected the unexpected where she was concerned and had the strangest feeling he could be falling hard for her. Dumb, he conceded, considering she was not interested in men given her divorce to Jeff. He hated the man and had never even met him. The guy must have really been an ass to make her jump the fence onto sexual pastures completely different then the ones she grazed most of her adult life.

“It was not unusual for us to go out with light weapons. We were not FORECON, Big Guy. I was leaving that up to you and your Marine Corp buddies to come in and blow shit up. Very subtle your group,” she needled him. It was all in good fun now that she was no longer suspicious of his motives.

“Point taken,” he said with a smile. “So, you were on a fact finding day trip. What happened? I’m assuming things went to hell in a hand basket.”

She nodded placing her plate aside. Mason noted she had eaten very little and he did not like that fact one bit. He was beginning to put two and two together. Just as Robert had said, she was bitchy when she needed to eat, and he really did not like her bitchy, not when a power bar would avoid it.

“We were set up and took on cross fire. My partner went down in the first volley. I took one too. Soon after some kids came to investigate.” She was mechanical in her description, Mason noted, and he could see where this was going. It was down a path he hoped he never had to walk.

He swallowed hard at the thought of her sacrificing her own life for children she did not even know. “So you did take those bullets on purpose. You sheltered the kids didn’t you?”

She nodded. “The ones I could, yes.” She closed her eyes taking a deep breath and slowly let it out. “There just wasn’t enough of me to go around. Pray you never have a child die in your arms. I don’t recommend it.”

“It was a brave thing you did.” He brushed the side of her face with his fingertips.

What she did was an act few men ever lived to tell of. Most Medals of Honor were given posthumously. Barbara would never receive a medal for her bravery in the line of duty. She wasn’t in the military so would never qualify.

She didn’t think bravery had anything to do with it. It was instinct driving her to try and save those children.

“No way,” he countered. The drive to survive is too strong. “In the normal human being we make those decisions somewhere on a conscious level, even if we have only a split second to decide.”

“It all happened so fast, Mason. I really couldn’t tell you if it was conscious or not. I saw the kids and I covered. Simple as that,” she shrugged it off.

“Simple as that, huh?” He figured she would glaze over it, yet it was far from simple. Heroism and bravery were hard things to define. It is even harder to know who will and will not display these traits and even harder to know when. He guessed if he had to go into battle she would be a good one to have at his side.

“I don’t remember how I got to the hospital in Manila. I was airlifted back to Hawaii. I retired soon after.” She finished her story quickly not having any real desire to relive it.

“And there is not a day that goes by that you don’t think about the ones you couldn’t save. Am I right?” Mason felt he was more than just a little on target.

She stood up and turned her back to him, then nodded looking down as if ashamed.

There was nothing to be ashamed where her actions were concerned. She was a deeply emotional woman, and he was seeing he had misjudged her all these years. She was not cold, but quite the opposite. Her cool demeanor was a defense against caring too deeply, something no one had ever accused him of doing.

He held her from behind gently squeezing her. “It is war, war of a different kind, but war all the same.” He turned her around. “You just can’t save them all.”

He knew it, understood it, and five tours of duty later, he accepted it. He, too, had seen buddies die.

“Look at me, Doll.” He waited until she did. “Don’t dwell on the negative. Think about the ones you did save, Barbara, and almost at the cost of your own life.”

He stood there for a moment looking deeply in her eyes trying to see past her defenses and into her mind. She would never let him in, he concluded That was his own fault from the years of not caring if she existed or not. It was his loss, too.

It was time to go. They had one more child to save. Standing face to face he saw her fear as plainly as if she had stamped it across her forehead. He enfolded her into his arms and rested his chin on her head, softly rocking her for comfort, both his and hers.
“We’ll get Jesse back, Barbara. I promise. And then you can put the old ghosts to bed.” He kissed her on the head just before turning her loose.

They had made camp late in the afternoon and shortly thereafter Mason disappeared leaving Barbara to wonder where the man had run off to without telling her. Night was falling quickly, leaving her with an acute sense of unease. It was never a good thing to be alone in the jungle, especially at night. She was worried and feeling a sense of him that she had never had before. He was running on high adrenaline and worry.