Under Siege (Wingmen Warriors 3)

"Shelby, don't push me."

She hooked her hands on the h*ps of her low-slung jeans, attitude and anger radiating from her. "You can ground me now and ground me again, even pitch my phone in the trash, but you can't control what I'm thinking. Another year and half and I'll be old enough to leave if I want."

Her words stopped him cold. Of course he knew her age, but somehow he couldn't erase the image of her at nine years old climbing a tree to save a nest of baby birds.

But she was sixteen, almost seventeen. He and Pam hadn't been more than eighteen months older when they'd started "just sleeping" together. The past sure had a way of biting a man on the ass when he least expected it. He needed Julia's help keeping track of Shelby now more than ever.

Zach scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face, up to his bleary eyes, suddenly so damned tired beyond what the flight, party and unbelievable hours with Julia should have drained from him.

Bottom line, he couldn't post round the clock guards on his daughter, although the idea had merit. "At least promise me you'll protect yourself. Don't count on the guy to—"

"Why won't you ever stop being such a nimrod and listen to me?" Stomping forward, she shouted in his face, big fat frustrated tears in her eyes. "I told you already. We weren't doing anything. But if I'm going to be accused of the crime, I might as well go ahead and enjoy myself, don't cha think?"

She spun away and ran down the hall to her room. The slam rattled windows three rooms over.

A baby squawk sounded, echoed and built as Patrick cried. Aggie barked, scratching at Shelby's door, woofs turning to whines when she ignored her.

Zach reached down to scratch the dog's head on his way past. "Well, that went well, didn't it?"

Patrick's wails picked up speed and velocity. Man, the little fella was breaking a few sound barriers. Zach strode into the bedroom, Aggie dashing past to leap on the bed. The golden retriever burrowed her head under quilted pillows, Julia's additions to his room.

Julia lifted Patrick from the crib, her white terrycloth robe twirling around her bare legs.

"It's okay, sweetie, everything's okay."

"Want me to take him?"

Patrick wailed, his face tomato-red.

She shook her head. "Now that he's awake, he knows he's hungry."

"Of course." Zach leaned against the dresser, nudging the rainbow assortment of nail polish scattered along the wooden surface. When Patrick's cries didn't stop, Zach glanced up.

Julia was still standing by the rocker.

Her gaze skittered away from his and he could have sworn she seemed... Embarrassed?

He'd seen her feed Patrick hundreds of times the past months. They'd long ago moved past any awkwardness, and tonight should have cemented that. Why the sudden attack of nerves now?

He must be misreading her. Who could think anyway with the baby screaming? Patrick paused for a breath, then shifted the wails into high gear.

Surrendering to the inevitable, Julia sank into the oak rocker, slipping down one side of the robe to nurse him. The baby squirmed and kicked, hiccupping sobs between gulps.

Zach set aside a bottle of Passion Flower Pink polish and crouched beside her, stroking a hand over the baby's soft white hair. A surge of protectiveness rushed through him "Is he okay?"

She nodded. "I think so. The noise probably just startled him, and babies sense tension."

Plenty of that to go around. "I'm sorry Shel let you down."

Julia didn't answer, just rocked and cradled her son.

Zach dropped to the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed. His head fell back. "God, Jules, I don't know what to say to her anymore."

"From in here, it sounded like you told her all the right things. She's right about one thing though. We can't control her thoughts. We just have to hope she listened, and if she didn't, pray she'll be careful."

Not the reassurance he was looking for. "Sometimes it's all I can do not to lose it with her. She knows how to push my buttons until I want to shout it all out there."

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing."