5

Chapter 5

Joe Merino pulled the black surveillance van into a parking spot within sight of Morganna’s house and stared at the dimly lit upper window thoughtfully.

She was home safe and sound, no tails, no problems. So why was the hair on the back of his neck tingling? It was never a good sign.

Beside him sat the one true friend he had ever claimed and the only man he trusted with his life.

Grant Samuels was slouched in his seat, nursing a steaming cup of coffee and bleary eyes. His ever-present University of Southern Carolina baseball cap was pulled down over his eyes and his dark T-shirt stained with some painting project his wife had pulled him into months ago. And he was scowling. This was his third night away from his comfortable matrimonial bed, and he was starting to get damned cranky.

A cranky Grant wasn’t anyone’s idea of a fun time, either. Even his best friend’s.

“Think he’ll do it?” Grant finally mumbled as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips again.

Grant was as addicted to his coffee as he was to his wife.

“He’ll do it.”

“What makes you think so?” Grant yawned through the question.

Joe stared back at the house, seeing the slender female shadow as it passed by the curtains in the living room before the lights flipped out. He was going to have to mention windows and shadows before some son of a bitch put a bead on her through that window.

“She’s his weakness.” He nodded to the house. “Every woman he’s had in the last five years resembles her. She’s not going to obey him like a good little girl, no matter how much he wishes she would. She’ll defy him, and then he won’t have a choice.”

Joe understood that kind of weakness; he could even respect it in a pitying sort of way. When a man loved a woman like that, then the betrayal, if and when it came, ripped his soul apart.

“He has a strange way of showing it,” Grant muttered. “And he’s not the smartest good ole boy I ever met, Joe. You don’t piss a woman off like that; she’ll cut your balls off for it. And she’s crazy about him. I swear I heard her heart break when he talked about working with another woman.”

Yeah, Grant, poor sap that he was, had kept his eyes lowered, his expression filled with sympathy, as Clint pushed the girl. Grant had actually muttered an “amen” when she stalked from the apartment.

“She reminded me of Maggie,” Grant sighed. “Full of fire.”

Joe grunted absently, watching the house. Clint Mclntyre was one hard-ass. He was one of the regulars at the upper-scale bondage clubs and well-known for his extreme tastes in sex. Spanking, toys, butt fucking. He was good to the women, but he pushed them, pushed the limits of their sexuality as well as their endurance.

Some of the women he’d had in the last few years said he could fuck for hours without breaking pace and then start again with only a light nap. Hell, Joe hadn’t done that since he was eighteen. Mclntyre’s testosterone level must be off the damned charts. That or he was trying to screw a hunger out of his system that wouldn’t die. Joe understood that one. He understood that one too well.

“So why are we here?” Grant shifted in his seat, working to get more comfortable. “Clint’s in the back watching the house, and I can’t see where we’re needed.”

“That attempted hit bothers me, man,” Joe finally admitted. “Her cover couldn’t have been cracked. No way in hell.”

“There’s never no way in hell,” Grant pointed out wearily. “Anything’s possible.”

Yeah, no shit. It wasn’t something Joe should have forgotten. Hell, he hadn’t forgotten; that was why Grant was here missing out on his wife and bitching over it. Joe didn’t have the same trust in the others.

Joe shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about this one, brother. A bad feeling all the way around.”

“Not good,” Grant muttered.

No, it wasn’t good. Joe lived his life by his gut; he always had. It was one of the reasons he’d left the SEALs, one of the reasons he’d taken command of this task force.

“So why are we here?” Grant asked again. “I could be curled around my Maggie, sleeping peacefully, Joe. McIntyre ain’t stupid. He’ll watch her tonight.”

That was Joe’s intention. Clint needed time to assess the situation, to think about things awhile without interference. If that hit was against Morganna and another came too soon, then he’d jerk her out of the assignment and cart her off gagged and bound. Joe couldn’t afford that. He needed the other man in this assignment fast.

“We’ll help him watch her awhile,” Joe murmured. “You can sleep tomorrow.”

“Man, Maggie ain’t in the bed through the day. You suck, Joe,” Grant griped.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Grant was missing one pitiful night with his wife. So what? Joe was missing every night with his.

“If I were that mean-assed SEAL, I’d cart little Morganna off as hard and fast as possible and tell you to kiss my ass,” Grant continued. “What makes you think he won’t?”

“She won’t let him.” A tight smile curved Joe’s lips. “She’s had a taste of adrenaline, Grant. A taste of danger. She likes it. She likes it real well. And she’s damned good at the job.”

He knew the signs, knew the fire that burned in the eyes and in the soul. It made her careful, but it pushed her, made her eager for the job. Given a few more years, a little balance and experience, she would be a damned good agent.

“You’re a bastard, Joe,” Grant accused, his voice low, sad. “You’ve really sunk, man. You knew what you were doing when you let her come in, didn’t you?”

“Did I know McIntyre would follow?” he asked knowingly. “Yeah, I knew. Just like I made sure she was in the right place at the right time when I needed him. I’m good like that.” Maneuvering it had been a bitch, though.

“You’re evil like that.” It wasn’t a compliment. “He’ll kill you if he finds out.”

“So?” If McIntyre found it, then it meant the operation had been completed successfully. That was all that mattered. Nothing mattered but the mission.

“You scare me sometimes, buddy,” Grant whispered. “Sometimes you really, really scare me.”

“I’ll watch your ass.” That one was a given. Always.

“I’ll watch yours,” Grant promised. “But, brother, one day, payback is gonna be hell.”

Joe was already paying.

Morganna saw the shimmer of color just beneath the awning of the small shed out back and knew that Clint was parked there.

He was watching over her. A sad smile reflected in the window as Morganna sat tucked into the wide frame, knowing he couldn’t see her, that he was unaware that she was watching him even as he was watching her house. And she bet he didn’t even know why he was sitting out there.

Clint would excuse it, just as he always did, but in his eyes she would see the truth. He was as helpless against what he felt for her as she was against her emotions for him.

Maybe in a way she could almost understand his determination to keep her out of the line of fire, away from danger. If she could keep him home and safe, then she would have done it years ago. But the one thing she understood about Clint was the fact that he was a warrior. He believed in what he did; all the way to the bottom of his soul he believed in it.

Just as she believed in what she was doing.

Clint may have made certain she was no longer working this case. Morganna had no doubt that Commander O’Reilly wouldn’t prefer a trained SEAL, familiar with the role he was playing, working it. But he would place Morganna somewhere else.

Perhaps it was time to request an assignment outside of Atlanta, she mused sorrowfully. She could tell Reno what she was doing now; it was too late for him to stop her. He wouldn’t like it, it would hurt him, but he would accept it.

And if she left Atlanta, then the chances of seeing Clint again would be nearly zero. At least slim enough that maybe she could find a life outside the constant hope she managed to keep alive in her heart.

She loved him. She had long ago grown used to the fact that she would always love him.

And she was terribly afraid Clint would never change. He would always fight what he could feel for her. And he would always insist on attempting to save her from herself. As though she were a child rather than the woman who ached for him nightly.

She touched her hand to the window, her gaze never leaving the dull shimmer of color beneath the awning. He had shown her more of himself tonight than she had ever seen in him before. She had felt his kiss, his touch, his passion, and the need for more burned inside her with a ferocity she couldn’t fight.

She had fought too long to allow Clint to take this from her, though. This was different from the parties he had dragged her away from and the boyfriends he had frightened off. This was her life, and if he didn’t want to share it with her, then he could step aside and let her live it in peace.

Even if it meant she had to eventually leave Atlanta herself.

“Good night, Clint,” she finally whispered, pressing her lips to her fingers before placing them against the glass once again.

Then with a self-mocking little snort she moved from the window, shed the robe she had donned, and climbed into her empty, lonely bed.