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Deacon knew he should be in the library with the team leader, Dain, going through logistics, discussing their plans, explaining the setup here at the house. King and Saint had arrived around lunchtime with a shit load of equipment they’d laid out in the library at the back of the house. Dain and Elliot had been delayed at the office but arrived a few minutes ago, and yet Elliot still lingered out by the team’s van in the driveway.
And where was he? Lingering in his own foyer, for God’s sake. Waiting for a certain spitfire to come inside. He should probably feel guilty for watching her through the front windows, for spying, but he didn’t; he was curious, a trait that usually served him well. He wasn’t sure where that curiosity would lead him with Elliot, but he refused to back down from it.
The door finally opened, and Deacon released the breath he’d been holding as Elliot walked into his home. What kind of name was that, anyway? Elliot Smith. The men called her Otter sometimes, but if anyone asked him, she bore zero resemblance to the playful creature they’d nicknamed her after.
The second the words popped into his head, he understood.
They’d named her after her opposite, of course. Just to piss her off, more than likely—something his team would do to one of their own too. He grinned imagining all the havoc that must have wreaked with the prickly woman.
Elliot didn’t seem prickly now as she walked through the front door and stopped to eye the open area before her. Those intense blue eyes assessed the new domain, but her expression remained blank. Buttoned-down. He had the sudden perverse need to provoke her, to push her past whatever was holding her back and free the attitude that had so fascinated him in the office. Pushing away from the wall, he walked toward her.
That sounded easier than it was, because the closer he came, the more the sexual attraction that had flared in Jack’s office gripped his balls in a vise of need. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt hunger this strong, and with no effort whatsoever by the object of his interest. Elliot didn’t startle at his appearance, didn’t do anything but stand there looking around, and yet the sunlight streaming through the glass surrounding his double front doors set her white-blonde hair gleaming, brought a rich glow to the light tan of her bared neck and the slope of slender muscles in her arms. Her shirtsleeves were rolled up, the buttons open at the collar, creating a beguiling vee that drew his gaze down to places that had distraction written all over their tempting curves.
Her body was small but perfect. Just the thought of how small she’d be if he managed to get inside her had sweat breaking out on his upper lip. He forced himself to look back to her face, to stop at the base of the stairs and lean an elbow on the banister instead of moving right up into her space and seeing if she’d have the same kind of reaction to his body that he had to hers. Would those blue eyes widen? Would her pale skin flush, her breath quicken?
A pinch in his groin warned him to avoid that path, so he opened his mouth instead. “I wondered when you’d get here. You aren’t afraid of working with a four-year-old girl, are you?”
Aaand inserted his foot. Damn it.
Elliot’s back went rigid so fast he heard a distinct pop from her spine. Not the reaction he’d intended, but she wasn’t indifferent to him, at least. He worked to control his grin. Elliot was probably a typical female in many ways, but in this she was just like every other man he’d had under his command—being called a coward offended her. The look she shot him could’ve peeled paint off the walls. “Do I need to be?”
He released his grin. “Depends.”
She didn’t take the bait by asking him to explain. Instead she went back to studying the layout of the house.
“What do you think?”
Elliot stared at the sweeping staircase reminiscent of traditional Southern plantations. Deacon had added the feature after he’d bought the house, replacing a plain staircase that had hugged one wall and closed the space in too much for his liking. “I’m thinking we could use this to our advantage in the event of a security breach.”
Hmm. Well trained. And focused. What would that focus be like when it was on him and not his house?
His eagerness to find out surprised him, though given the fact that his dick had yet to subside, eagerness might be too mild a word.
“There are small hidden closets—cubbies, really—behind the staircase on each side,” he pointed out. “Easily accessible from the back of the house, for either observation or an ambush. The foyer and the upstairs landing area are both open for obvious reasons.” No one should be able to sneak in the front door and find cover, if they even managed to get past the three-foot-wide windows along either side and atop the doors without Deacon observing them.
“All this glass...”
A spark of ego lit inside him. “The windows here and in the back are coated with a special reflective film. We can see out, but no one can see in. I won’t give anyone leverage.” He was surprised she hadn’t noticed, but then he’d gotten the distinct impression from Dain that something pretty intense was going on between the two. The vibes coming off the team leader when he’d entered told Deacon he was unhappy for some reason. Were they involved?
No, Dain wore a wedding ring. Elliot didn’t. And they were on the same team. No way would Deacon put a married couple together, and he’d bet Jack wouldn’t either.
“I noticed,” Elliot said wryly. “I meant, what kind of glass?”
Now it was his turn to be offended. “Bullet-proof, of course.” What else?
“You designed this house for attack?”
He moved closer, just close enough to catch the warm female scent of her. Not flowers, definitely not perfume, just fresh, clean skin. “More habit than anything else. I certainly wouldn’t have brought danger home to my family if I could help it, but I’m not one to leave it to chance.” That was one of the reasons he hadn’t intended to have children until he left the field, but Julia had been impatient. Or maybe they really had been careless as she’d claimed. He’d always suspected that she became pregnant on purpose during that short vacation in Sydney between missions, but once his daughter had arrived, why she’d been conceived no longer mattered. Sydney was the center of his world. And now that Julia was gone...if they had waited much longer, there would’ve been no children for them at all.
Elliot’s snort cut his mental trip down a rabbit hole short.
“What?”
“If your intention was to not bring danger home to your family, you really fucked up, didn’t you? Mansa’s about the worst danger you could imagine.”
“Granted. But it wasn’t a fuckup.” He tried to keep the bite from his voice but didn’t quite succeed.
Elliot didn’t seem offended—or intimidated. “No?”
“No.” He realized he was stalking toward her about the time her shadow reached his boots. “If it’s a choice between bringing danger to my daughter and letting that bastard rape a second eighteen-year-old defenseless girl, I’ll stick by my decision. One child destroyed on my watch was one too many.”
With the sun behind her, Elliot’s eyes were shadowed, hard to read, but he felt their intensity even if he couldn’t see it. That same intensity echoed in her voice. “Mansa has always been death on women; Andre Diako was raised to it. Not that that’s any excuse.” Her mouth went tight, her tone deadly serious. “You don’t want him getting his hands on Sydney, Deacon.”
It was the first time she’d said his name. A shiver tingled down his spine. “No, I don’t—and he won’t. That’s what you’re here to help me prevent.”
She opened her mouth to answer, pulling his gaze down to the full curve of her lower lip. The growl of an engine outside the front door cut her off, followed by the harsh ping of gravel being thrown beneath abruptly braking tires. Deacon groaned.
“Looks like the rest of our backup is here,” he said before allowing himself a small retreat. If he stayed that close to Elliot, he wouldn’t be able to breathe—and Fionn would razz him endlessly over it. No way his best friend wouldn’t notice Deacon’s crazy reaction to this woman.
“The rest of our backup?” Elliot asked.
The front door opened. Deacon squinted against the harsh glare that left him momentarily blinded as Fionn slammed the door shut. A sharp wolf whistle split the air.
“Deac, you’ve been holding out on me. Who is this pretty wan?”
Elliot’s eyes widened, the first openly honest emotion he’d seen on her face since she’d walked in. Her shock shone plainly as she turned to take in Fionn’s appraisal of her ass. Deacon glowered at his friend as much as at the sudden urge to protect said ass from Fionn’s view. He should be focused on the situation, not jealousy or ego or, God forbid, lust. And yet he was helpless against all three, which only added an even harder edge to his words as he made introductions. “Fionn McCullough, meet Elliot Smith. Elliot, Fionn, my best friend and frequent embarrassment.”
“Elliot?” Fionn had moved on to appraising the front of her now. “What kind of name is Elliot for a pretty little thing like you? Ellie, maybe...now that’s a name for a woman.” The smile that had gotten Fionn laid more times than Deacon could count crossed his face. A charming smile.
Elliot didn’t seem to be reacting the way most females did.
Deacon wondered how long it would be before Elliot put Fionn on his ass. Maybe slightly longer than it had taken her to put him on his ass, but not by much if her expression was anything to go by.
The men of Team Foxtrot were making a hell of an impression today, weren’t they?
Elliot surprised him by taking a totally different tack with his uncouth friend. “Fin?” She tilted her head slightly. “Like on a fish? And you think my name is weird?”
“Irish, you know.” The lilting flavor of his friend’s language deliberately deepened, emphasizing his nationality. “That be Fionn with an O.”
Deacon had seen this conversation played out more than once during their friendship. When Fionn’s mouth formed the O, something about it made women want to mimic the shape of his mouth with theirs. Some kind of sexual spell, according to Fionn. Personally Deacon had seen Sydney do the same thing when he was trying to teach her to eat solid food, not that he’d shared that vital bit of intel with Fionn.
Now he watched with interest as Elliot’s lips softened, parted just barely, then pressed firmly together. When disappointment flashed across Fionn’s face, her mouth twitched like she was forcing back a smile—of amusement or triumph, he wasn’t sure. He was sure Elliot would take it as a personal victory to deprive his friend of the reaction he wanted. Would she be equally amused to know Deacon wanted to punch Fionn in the face for flirting with her when Deacon had seen her first?
And on that note...
He cleared the growl out of his throat. “Elliot, your team is setting up in the library.” He nodded toward the right hallway beside the stairs. “Would you like to join them or spend some time with Sydney before we tour the house?”
“The layout of the house is likely more impor—”
“Elliot!”
His daughter appeared at the head of the stairs, her tiny body practically quivering with delight at the sight of her new friend. Just like she had a thousand times before, Sydney grasped the banister at the top of the stairs, threw a short leg over with the aid of a little hop, and whizzed down the slick wood. Deacon was chuckling when Elliot’s slight weight knocked him out of her way.