Darkfall (2 page)

She could easily imagine him doing that. Ian MacDaniel had always impressed her as almost bigger than life. A force of nature. People didn’t fight with him. Like the Red Sea for Moses, they parted quickly to get out of his way.

“We’d better get moving,” he said. “Things have calmed down, but I don’t think it’ll stay that way. I didn’t see any sign of the men that broke down your door, but there’s no guarantees.”

She shifted and then winced as a deep ache penetrated her temple. She put her gun down on the shelf under the video monitor at the front door.

To her surprise he stepped close and tilted her face with a gentle upward nudge of her chin. She met his gaze and saw the pure attention, the concern. “What’s wrong? Did one of those pukes hurt you?”

For a second his all-male scent took her off guard, as well as his attentiveness. “Headache. It’s not every day I get chased by crazy men.” She shivered at the memory and swallowed hard. “I don’t think I could have taken on all of them if they’d gotten ahold of me.”

“Shit,” he whispered.

What did she see on his face? The thought that she could have been raped and killed before he got here? She knew he didn’t take kindly to civilians and innocents in harm’s way.

Then he did something she didn’t expect. Again. He slipped his left arm around her shoulders and brought her against him. Surprise melted under the glorious sensation of being enveloped in all that hard, protective male concern. His other hand came up and pressed her head into his shoulder. Automatically she slipped her arms around his waist and held on. She was five-seven but his powerful body towered over her. He kissed the side of her forehead, and this time the shiver that went through her had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with sensual awareness and an overwhelming feeling of comfort.
Okay, so that hasn’t changed.
Whatever else she thought of him, the man still flipped her switch. He wasn’t conveying sex in this moment, though, but a strange tenderness that always had disarmed her on the rare occasions she’d seen it in him before. Solid male arms held her close but not tight enough for discomfort. She allowed herself to sink into that delicious sensation for a little longer.
Wow. He feels…like heaven.
The damn man even smelled delicious, a masculine sandalwood.

The embrace lasted only moments, and he released her. She was half-tempted to ask what the hug and kiss were for, but she shoved it aside. Now was not the time to analyze anything. Making sure they got out of here in one piece was top priority.

She swallowed hard again, her tongue dry as sandpaper. “Thank you for coming after me.”

“I wasn’t the General’s first choice.”

“Oh?”

“He ordered one of the other men to come here, but Adam’s got a woman in his life and I could tell he didn’t want to leave her.”

“So the General told you to come and get me?”

Ian crossed his arms. “I volunteered. He didn’t want me to come, but I told him he didn’t have a lot of choices. It’s not as if he has a big team.”

He’d
volunteered
. She soaked in that information, surprised. Rather than being coy, she asked, “Why did you volunteer?”

Ian’s mouth tightened, and he looked ready to answer when his head jerked toward the stairs, and he reached for his weapon. He held his index finger up to his mouth and motioned for quiet. He held the gun down along his thigh, and she grabbed her piece from the shelf. He put hand out as if to say she should stay here, but she defied the order and followed. He glared, but she ignored him. They ascended the stairs, but when they reached the top all hell broke loose.

“Get the bitch!” The roar came from nearby, then pounding feet rushing their way.

Voices gathered, far more of them than before. There had to be dozens of people rather than the six who’d attacked Penny before.

Ian braced his feet for a second, but there was no mistaking the lack of compromise in his voice. “Penny, back in the shelter!”

She took the stairs at a scramble. A weapon fired, so loud it echoed off her ears. She winced and almost tripped, expecting to feel pain from a bullet. Her heart tried to exit her throat as the angry voices clashed with another shout from Ian.

“Get the fuck back!” Ian roared the demand.

Another weapon went off, blasting against her eardrums.

Penny rushed into the shelter and turned in time for Ian to follow her inside, slam the door and seal it. The locking mechanism twirled in Ian’s hands as he made certain the men charging couldn’t enter. She tripped backward and landed butt first on the concrete floor. Her gun went spinning across the floor. She didn’t move as she stared up at the monitor and the men outside. Ian’s back stayed toward her as he also watched the crowd.

“Crap, they’re more of them than the last time.” She almost gagged on the words. Fear seized her throat, and she took in a half-choked breath.

Ian was breathing hard, his shoulders heaving. “Fuck.” He growled his next words. “Fucking hell.”

Behind the heavy door the shouts of enraged people sounded minimal.

“Ian—” She saw red spreading over the back of his right shoulder. A small stain but growing steadily. She scrambled for her weapon and launched to her feet as her heart banged in her chest. She put the weapon on a small table. “You’re hit.”

He turned away from the monitor and toward her. “What?”

She rushed up to him to check out his wound. “Your right shoulder. You’ve been shot.”

She tried to see around the flak vest. A tiny tear in the turtleneck shirt showed a small pool of blood.

He shrugged, winced, and turned back to the door. “This is a cliché, but it’s only a flesh wound.”

“Let me—”

More pounding on the door made her jump and step back.
Dammit, those assholes would not debilitate her.

She moved to the cabinet above the bed to retrieve a first aid kit. She tossed the kit on the bed as the pounding stopped and voices faded. Her heart still thundered in her chest.

“Motherfuckers,” he whispered under his breath.

Despite the fear she managed a small smile. He’d always cursed too much, even in front of her. She didn’t mind it, because she tended to curse too often as well—she couldn’t deride him when she didn’t always control her potty mouth.

After they’d stood there some time, the monitor showed the crowd had left the basement. He turned toward her. His taut strength was evident as he moved—all of it made her feel safe while thoroughly unnerving her in other ways.

Ian’s expression blazed with slow-simmering anger. “Shit. I should have gotten you out of here instead of fucking around.”

“You didn’t know they’d come back.”

“My assault rifle is in the SUV. Damn it! What a stupid, fuckwit thing to do.” He hissed the curse, but she didn’t flinch. She knew his piss and vinegar belonged with the creeps outside and not towards her.

She gestured at his shoulder. “Let me look at the flesh wound.”

He glanced down at his right shoulder again and shrugged. He winced, and at first she thought he wouldn’t oblige. Instead he stripped off his flak/utility vest and dropped it on the floor.

“It’s hardly worth bothering with,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah.” She planted her hands on her hips and tried for humor. “Big bad SAS man. Don’t tell me. You’ve had all your limbs shot off at one time or the other, and you’re now like the Universal Soldier with all your parts sewn back on.”

For a second his mouth dropped open, pure incredulousness on his face. Then he cracked a smile that almost destroyed her ability to breathe. The grin, though small and a bit lopsided, made his eyes brighten with stirring warmth. He’d never smiled much—the damn man took strong and silent to the extreme. Always watching, always keeping his back to the wall, at least metaphorically speaking.

And then there was his freaking body. Ian brought new meaning to the word ripped.

The turtleneck molded to his broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and hard pecs in sinful ways she couldn’t ignore even after what they’d just experienced. He drew the turtleneck over his head as he walked to the bench and sat down at an angle so she could reach his shoulder. She sucked in a breath. She’d never seen his naked torso before, but she’d fantasized about it enough times.
Holy crap.
Her imagination had nothing on reality. As she tended to the wound, she ogled him. Before he’d turned his back, she’d spied an eyeful of russet hair sprinkled lightly over hard pectorals, a six-pack and down into the waistband of his pants. Muscles bunched and released in his shoulders as she dabbed antiseptic on the wound.

“You’re right.” She cleared her throat as her voice almost squeaked. “This isn’t bad. It’s not even bleeding anymore. Definitely a scratch.”

He grunted. One of those male sounds which could be easily construed as agreement or mockery. She drew in a deep breath, not wanting to think of what could have happened if the shooter had better aim. The thought of potent, totally alive Ian being killed or seriously injured sent a shudder of pain through her she didn’t want to acknowledge. She patched him quickly, and when she closed the first aid kit, he turned straight on the bench to look at her. He scrunched the turtleneck in his fist, and her gaze snagged on his big hands. A heatwave slammed through her when she remembered the one and only time those hands had threatened to send her over the edge with pleasure.
God, I’m nuts. Why the hell am I responding to him like an infatuated teenage girl? Especially when danger lurks right outside the door?

“Something wrong?” His voice was craggy as a cliff.

Penny licked her lips, and her mouth felt so parched she thought she might choke. She walked to the storage cabinet in one corner and opened it. “Water?”

“Yeah.”

“Catch.” She tossed a bottle at him. He caught it with ease.

He stayed on the bench, and damn him but she wished he’d put on the turtleneck. Her gaze kept straying to yards of hot male muscles. He opened the bottle and took a swig, then wiped his mouth on his forearm.

He recapped the bottle and put it on the floor. “Okay, maybe my earlier question doesn’t make sense.”

“Which question?”

“Asking if something is wrong. It sure as hell is. Any of those guys in the first group that attacked you? Or was the last attack a whole other set of mentals?”

“Same pack as the first, with a few added.”

She untwisted the cap on her water and took a long drink. Suddenly her legs didn’t feel steady, and she returned to the bench and sank down. She made sure her back was propped against the corner, and she brought her right leg up on the wood almost as a barrier between them.
Almost? Try definitely.
Following his suit, she thunked her bottle of water onto the floor. She gazed at the video above the door. She could hear voices whispering somewhere, probably at the top of the basement stairs. But she couldn’t see anyone or hear exactly what they were saying.

“How do we get out of here?” she asked softly. “They’re still up there.”

He yanked the turtleneck over his torso.
Thank God.

“Good question. I’m thinking,” he said.

“Work with me, Ian. You know I don’t like to be treated like the little woman who can’t understand the plan.”

He slanted a solid, inscrutable gaze her way. “I’ve never treated you like that. Your father does.”

Busted.
“All right. But don’t start. I’m already ashamed I couldn’t handle this on my own.”

His eyebrows dipped. “What? You’ve got a horde of arseholes coming after you. There aren’t many people who know how to handle that. So you learned to shoot, but—”

“But I refused self-defense training from Dad.” She held her hands up. “I know. I should’ve taken the opportunity.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

“Sue me.” There was little force behind the words.

He lifted one eyebrow. “But you didn’t want to owe him anything.”

“No.”

He went silent for a moment. He finally said, “We need to hang down here for a while until the fuckers get tired and go home. That might be awhile. We’ll check that video feed from time to time and as soon as we think they’re gone we’ll leave. Let’s just hope the beefed-up security system on the truck out front discourages them. It should.” He smiled a mean little grin and looked around at the amenities. “This isn’t a bad place for a bunker. Air conditioning, heating…” He looked at the small door on the far north wall. “Latrine?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “All the comforts of home. As you can see, it’s pretty big. Takes up more than half the basement.” A horrible thought made her sit forward. “Could they cut off the electricity or the air into this place?”

He looked at the ceiling and the light fixtures. “Could. But from what I understand, a person would have to be pretty savvy to understand how to do it. I don’t think those tossers outside would know how.”

A bit of the fear slid away, and she sank back into her corner. “Good.”

Silence stretched for a few minutes, and the acute quiet made her more aware of him. He was over six feet of muscle, and although there was no mistaking the warrior in him, she couldn’t deny how safe he made her feel. He’d never use that power to hurt her. Despite the history they shared, she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a Godsend.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here,” he said suddenly.

In all the time she’d known him, she’d never heard him say he was sorry for anything. The tightness in his jaw said he meant it.

“If there’s anything I know,” she said, “is that you don’t do a lousy job. You tried your best.”

She’d seen his work ethic in motion more than once, but uncertainty filled his intense gaze.

His brows lowered, his frown thunderous. “I’m serious, Penny. Your father sent me to complete a mission and I’ve failed miserably. I left my assault rifle in the SUV.”

I’m a mission. Nothing else.
A pang of hurt slammed through her, and shame followed close behind. She shouldn’t care one way or the other.

“You didn’t fail. If you’d failed I’d be dead.” She’d never seen him this remorseful about anything. “You’re here now, and I’m safe.”