Mace walked into his bedroom, closed the door, and paced the room. He saw his reflection in the mirror. Gruff along his jaw, the dark, hollow look to his eyes, and he felt himself process his reaction to Harper. Why he was being such a dick was obvious. He was feeling jealous, insecure, almost like he was never going to be normal or feel like a regular guy. None of them brought women around or talked about them. They disappeared for a day or so, or even a night here and there, and it was self-explanatory what they were doing. Easing that ache a man had.
He ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t had sex with a woman in over a year. Why? He had nearly become obsessed with one pretty young thing an hour and a half out of town. She had been his regular partner for months, and he felt comfortable, sort of, with her. Then she told him it was over. That she couldn’t wait around for him to commit or be more than a sex partner. She wanted more. She wanted the house, the kids, the connection, and the commitment he wasn’t capable of.
Mace wasn’t about to analyze why he was adamant about such a relationship. Well, maybe he should analyze it, get out what was bothering him and concerning him about a relationship. He didn’t want to tell his team, his brothers, his thoughts. His desperate need to have them close by. Like he needed them to be with a woman. That was crazy. All the dangerous life-threatening things he did in his life with his team made him stronger, harder, but apparently more dependent on them.
Now here was Harper meeting some woman with a gun in the woods and acting like he was under a spell. How fucking hot was this woman? She had to have a hell of a body and a damn beautiful face for Harper to react like this.
He thought about that and ran his hands over his face as he sat on the edge of the bed.
Could he date a woman? Find a woman he could feel comfortable and candid with? He didn’t think it was possible. He trusted himself and his team, his brothers-in-arms.
He thought about his reaction to Harper. He was a jerk. He was feeling jealous, inadequate, and incapable. They were all competitive but supportive. He didn’t wish bad things for Harper or anyone else. He was just so confused when it came to women and committing. He had to make things right for Harper. If he didn’t find out who this woman Sally was and how to get in touch with her, then Mace would hunt her down for him. It was the least he could do for being such a dick.
He took a deep breath and sighed as he stood up. Again he saw his reflection in the mirror and cringed. He looked like some psycho mercenary. He was in perfect physical condition. Had muscles everywhere as well as scars. He lifted his shirt and saw the definition on his belly. He thought about what it might feel like to have the feminine touch of a woman against his skin. That delicate feel of fingers, nails, and the scent of sweet perfume. Could he be gentle, and then a little rough? Could he make her scream and then beg for more of him? Could he ever feel safe enough to let go, to lie with a woman in his arms and know that everything was perfect even if only for a minute, an hour, a day?
He let his shirt go and stared at his reflection.
“You’re one broken, fucked-up, scarred SEAL, man. A good woman will never find you appealing or worth her time and her body.”
He turned around and headed toward his bed, plopping down on the comforter and staring up at the ceiling fan. His mind wandered on all the fucked-up shit he’d done in his life, and how truly dark and scarred he was. A fine, beautiful woman might not want him but at least he had his team, his brothers-in-arms.
Chapter 6
Lauren avoided taking the same jogging route through the woods in hopes of not bumping into Harper. Despite how the man remained on her mind the last several days, she knew she couldn’t entertain some fling. God knew when she would have to hightail it out of here. She was still waiting for some sort of response from her commander about the next steps in securing her safety and possible return to New York. The last conversation left her feeling pretty discouraged about the legal system and the fact that Miklos, Rafael, and Orlando got away with attempting to kill her. Even as she asked him about Frank, he gave spotty information and told her to not worry about it and that it was taken care of. She researched the case and the news reports online that morning and saw that there was never any mention of Frankie’s death and she wondered if he were still alive. Could they be covering it up and saying that he was dead when he wasn’t? But why?
It seemed to her that more was going on in this investigation than she had been let in on. It was also apparent that her commander didn’t want her in contact with Hercules and his crew or Agent Burk. How had her and Frankie wound up there anyway?
She thought about that as she got ready for another run and a workout against that set of hills that made her injuries burn and caused her to lose a bet against Harper.
She shook her head. She was in no position to flirt or fool around with some sexy, attractive cowboy like Harper. She needed to train and to be in tip-top shape. She had to be ready to fall into survivor mode at the drop of a hat.
Lauren thought about the informant that Frankie knew and how they got the call a few blocks away from that location. Had he known that this guy was going to call him? Had he already planned on going in and taking down Miklos and Aces? The way Frankie got out of the car and didn’t wait for backup was completely against protocol. Why did he resist waiting for backup? Why did he approach the way he did all gung ho and as if he were some bulletproof superhero.
She closed her eyes and saw his body jerk as each bullet hit him.
She released an annoyed sigh and stood up after tying her sneakers.
It was warm out today. She wore her spandex leggings, a sports bra, and a tank top in black-and-green camo. Then she pulled on the light, nylon vest that would cover her gun she had in the holster on her back. She wasn’t going anywhere without her weapon.
Lauren headed downstairs, gave a quick wave and good morning to Beth, and then off she went. The air was cool and pleasant but would soon be warm and humid in no time. She started off behind the house going over the trail she had a week ago. She needed to head toward those hills. She never liked to fail. She usually never did. Having Harper beat her up those hills had really gotten under her skin. Despite the pain it had caused her ribs and the scarred skin of her gunshot wounds, she was determined to not fail again.
She made her way through the winding pathways, not seeing a soul and being grateful for it. As she looked to the right, she noticed the area of plusher, thicker woods that was a bit farther off course. Feeling the need for a challenge, she headed that way.
As she ran farther up the steep hill then into thicker brush, she heard what sounded like branches cracking. Sure enough, a quick
turn to her right and there was Harper.
Her mouth dropped at the sight of him. The son of a gun wasn’t wearing any shirt. Even from the distance she could tell he was in great physical condition. His pectoral muscles were thick and hard, he had a twelve pack for abs, and his arms were defined as well. The man was a fantasy. Too bad she was hiding out in this town.
She turned away although he’d probably already seen her drooling over his body. But then he stopped a foot or so away from her just as she heard a noise a half a yard in front of her. She immediately saw what appeared to be a few dogs together. Then she heard Harper.
“Don’t move.”
She eased her hand behind her back and was about to reach under her vest to grab hold of her gun when she felt Harper’s hand clutch her arm and then his body close to hers.
“Don’t. They’ll just keep walking and be on their way in no time. Stray dogs,” he whispered.
She turned her head to the right and then felt his hands on her hips. They were warm, and masculine. She started to move when he gripped her snugger then pressed against her.