Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

“For a minute.” Risa turned to Micah. “He’s a friend of mine. He’s been in Iraq forever. I’ll be fine.”

The hell she would be.

Micah nodded stiffly before moving back and placing his back against the thick support post at the edge of the dance floor. He hoped neither of them expected him to just tuck his tail and slink back to the table, because it wasn’t happening.

The dance mix had moved into a slower tune, a soft ballad that required the other man to take her into his arms. At least she wasn’t rubbing against him like the sensual little cat Micah knew she was. But she was too close to the other man, and for a moment Micah knew complete bloodlust.

“YOUR BOYFRIEND is upset,” Mac said as they moved to the music, his topaz eyes watching her assessingly.

That was Mac, always thinking about things, she thought fondly.

“Micah will be fine.” She gave her head a little shake before the impulse to look over at him got the better of her.

“I heard about the abduction, Risa.” Mac’s statement had her head jerking around as humilitation flared within her. “I was in Iraq with Reno when they pulled the rescue team together, and I asked to transfer to the rescue team. They denied the request. I would have found a way to get you out of that clinic if I had known.”

It was a statement. It was an acknowledgment that she had needed help then. The humiliation drained out of her, but weariness seemed to set in.

“I made it out.” She didn’t want to talk about it. “And I don’t want to discuss that, Mac. But look at you. You filled out.”

He grinned. He was a few years older than she was, maybe seven years, she thought. That would make him thirty-two maybe. The last time she’d seen him she’d been sixteen and he’d been a wise, older twenty-two-year-old who had just joined the Army.

So many years. And they’d both changed.

“I’m not the only one.” He smiled down at her with wry amusement. “You’re looking beautiful. But didn’t I always tell you you would?”

“Yeah, after you made me cry by calling me the ugly duckling,” she pointed out without bitterness. It was impossible to stay angry with Mac for long, even then. He’d had a shy, touching smile and a way of telling you the way it was, no matter what you wanted to believe.

“I was right.” He nodded briskly. “You turned into a beautiful young woman, Risa.”

She shrugged, uncomfortable with that thought. She still saw the plain features; if there was any beauty there, it hid from her in her mirror.

“So what do you do in Iraq?” she asked, desperate to know more about one of the few friends she had had as a child.

“I work in Special Ops,” he stated. “We coordinate many of the missions that go out among the SEALs and Special Forces in the Middle East. Most of them make it through our command center eventually.”

“You should have met Micah somewhere then,” she told him. “He was a SEAL before returning to the states.”

He glanced at Micah, then back at her. “He’s not a SEAL, Risa,” Mac stated.

“Yes, he was.” Risa stared up at him in confusion. “He worked primarily in the Middle East.”

Mac shook his head as a touch of worry entered his expression. “I don’t know what he’s trying to pull on you, but I know damned good and well he’s not a SEAL,” he said again. “Not just because I don’t know him, but because SEALs carry themselves a cert

ain way, even after they leave the Navy. If they ever do. That man has never been a SEAL. An agent somewhere perhaps, definitely not someone you want to mess with.” His gaze sharpened on her face then. “Riss, are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

Risa felt an overwhelming surge of affection fill her. That was Mac, always trying to look out for someone else.

“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “But trust me, Micah’s a SEAL.” Wasn’t he? She was desperate to convince herself that at least that much was the truth. That Micah’s entire personality couldn’t be false.

Mac shook his head again. “You trust me, Risa, if that man was a SEAL, then I would have met him. And I know SEALs. He’s nothing—” He broke off. “Riss, is that Ian Richards with him?”

She nodded; she didn’t have to look.

“Riss.” Concern colored his voice. “Sweetheart, what are you involved in?”

“WHO IS HE?” IAN moved in close to Micah as they watched Risa dance with the other man.

“Mac Knight, Special Ops in Iraq,” Micah answered. “And whatever he’s telling her isn’t setting well with her.”