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THE SOUNDS OF people wrapping up their work day whispered beyond the half-open door of Hannah’s office. Four days. Mac and the team had been gone four days. She couldn’t sleep. Could barely eat. Her skin felt stretched tight over her bones, and itchy.
No one in her chain of command had tripped to the fact that Mac had forced himself into her life, that she was pregnant with his child. How the fuck did she get into these things? Despite being pissed as hell at him, the last good night’s sleep she’d had was after their fight. When he’d crawled into bed and just held her. What was it about the damn man that put her dander up? If she wasn’t wanting to jump his bones, she was wanting to beat him bloody.
And the absofucking cherry on top of her sundae? She couldn’t even drink coffee. The alien monster in her belly rebelled if she so much as thought of swallowing a drop of life-sustaining caffeine. A wave of nausea rolled through her and she gagged.
A sharp rap on her door straightened her to attention and smoothed her expression into poker ready. “Colonel Bradshaw? Come in, sir.”
Her mentor, who was only a year or two away from his first star, pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold. His brows scrunched together as he raked her with his gaze. “Damn, Major. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Her heart tripped in her chest but she kept her expression unruffled. “Sir?”
“You look like shit.”
Great. She’d never been one for wearing makeup and she’d obviously botched the job of hiding her sleepless nights. “A touch of flu, sir. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine to me. Take some sick leave. Lord knows you have plenty stored up. Contrary to your belief, this office is capable of running smoothly when you aren’t here. Go home. Get well.” He glanced at the diver’s watch on his wrist. “I don’t want to see you until Monday morning. And that’s an order.”
Panic surged and she bit her tongue to keep from blurting out the words on its tip. Four more days. Alone. Staring at the walls of her apartment. Her empty apartment. At least coming to the office offered the sound and clutter of normality.
“Major?”
“Yes, sir. Understood, sir.” The words tasted like sour milk in her mouth. She shoved up out of her chair and began shuffling the papers on her desk back into their files. “I’m headed out as soon as I shut down here, sir.”
“No dawdling, Major.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Her throat ached from swallowing the urge to cry but she managed to choke out, “Roger that, sir. No dawdling.”
He pivoted and left and it wasn’t until Hannah was on the platform waiting for the Metro that she wondered why he’d come to her office. She shifted the messenger bag to the opposite shoulder. She’d dragged all those files home. If she didn’t work, she’d go even crazier than she already was.
Hair prickled on the back of her neck and she fought the urge to turn around. Someone watched her. As people gathered around her, Hannah shifted to her left and backwards until she had a pillar to lean against. Checking out the people around her and those standing further back in the station, she homed in on a man about thirty. Fit. Dressed in a black turtleneck and wearing a dark navy pea coat and a knit watch cap pulled low on his forehead.
The train rumbled into the station and passengers surged forward. Hannah let them pull her along. Watching the man from the corner of her eye, she waited until he stepped on the next car before she ducked behind a large woman. Staying low, she braced against the flow, working backwards to the pillar, where she slipped behind it. The train pulled away and Hannah joined the flow of passengers exiting the station. She’d take a cab home, even if it cost an arm and a leg.
Torn between real worry and the idea she might just be paranoid, Hannah had the cab drive past her apartment building twice, from different directions. She couldn’t tell if anyone was watching her or not. She’d purposely rented in the heart of DC, thriving on the noise and crowds, but the things she loved about urban living now worked against her. She paid and dashed through the front door. Unwilling to deal with the elevator, she hiked up three floors, slipped into her apartment, locked and dead-bolted the door behind her. Leaning back against the solid metal door, Hannah drew in deep sucks of air.
She’d just gotten her nerves under control when her Blackberry phone chirped and she almost screamed. Her hand was shaking as she withdrew it from her bag. She answered it with a breathy, “Hello?”
“Hey, babe—”
“Mac? Mac!” Her tears could no longer be contained and she was sobbing his name.
“Hannah? Baby, what’s wrong? Is everything all right? Hannah?” Mac’s gut clenched and he had to force air into his lungs so he could talk. Something was wrong—really wrong. “Honey, is it the baby?” He caught her shuddering breath and his heart broke, fearing the worst.
“Oh.” Her voice sounded small. “Yeah. The baby. Always about it. It’s fine. What do you want?”
Fuck. He rubbed his palm over the bristly hair on his head. What had he done now to screw up? “What’s wrong, Hannah?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.” His muscles locked up. Had she done something stupid? Had she terminated the pregnancy as she’d so often threatened? “I’ll be there late tonight. We’ll talk.”
“Stay away from me, Sergeant Major.”
Dead air echoed through the speaker as he stared at the satellite phone in his hand. Fury flared, sending heat winging through his bloodstream. He felt the eyes of his entire team focused on him and he raised his head to glare.
“You fucked up.” Sean’s cocky grin begged to be wiped off at the point of Mac’s fist.
“He’s right, Mac.” Lightfoot met Mac’s gaze squarely. “You need to listen to him.”
“Fine, Donaldson. Enlighten me.”
“What’s Hannah’s biggest fear?”
Mac opened his mouth, started to say “Losing the baby” then clamped his jaw shut. That was his biggest fear. What was Hannah’s? He didn’t have a clue and that pissed him off. The woman was his mate. He should know what frightened her, what she felt, why she felt that way. “Okay, smart ass. You tell me.”
“That you don’t care about her. That all you care about is your son.”
“That’s a fuckin’ lie. Of course, I care about her. She’s my fucking mate, dammit.”
Nakai stared at him, expression stoic though slightly condescending.
“What?” Mac glared at the older man, then at each of us teammates.
“Ah...Mac?” Sean took his life in his hands. “Thirty-year-old virgin. The woman has issues.”
Mac scrubbed his temples with the heels of his palms. “What the hell are you saying, Sean?”
“Commitment issues. Self-confidence issues. Look, dude. The woman is a brainiac, right? That’s what she’s known for. Boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses. Yeah, she comes across all tough and shit but that girl is a marshmallow inside. At the moment, she’s holding onto her life by her fingernails. You take her virginity in a cave, impregnate her, move into her life thumping your chest, and it’s all about the baby.” Sean held up his hand when Mac started to interrupt. “Yeah, yeah. We’re Wolves. That’s what we do. But she’s not. Mac, she thinks the only reason you want her is because she’s pregnant.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
Sean didn’t move fast enough. Mac was on him in half a heartbeat, taking Sean to the ground. Mac’s hands fisted but rather than throwing a punch, he wrapped his fingers around the other man’s throat with every intention of strangling him. When Sean remained relaxed and submissive, Mac loosened his grip but didn’t get off.
“I tell her I love her.”
“Shit, dude. Words are easy. Guys say that crap all the time to get what they want. Have you ever asked Hannah what she wants? Think about it. She doesn’t know anything about us, about our society. You’re Alpha. You roll in and take over because that’s who you are. Yes, the baby is important, but so is she.”
Mac sat back on his heels and Sean pushed up to sit, arms draped over his bent knees. “My point is, you need to romance her. You need to treat her like a woman not a baby incubator.”
Nakai placed a hand on Mac’s shoulder. “The child will thrive or not. Losing a pup hurts our hearts, Wolf. Tala and I have three daughters. They are healthy. They are stars to light my night. But there were others. Two more daughters. And two sons. One was a Wolf. Each loss left a hole in our hearts and our tears were enough to fill a river. But Tala is my mate. She is the best of me. We fit, like two pieces of a broken pot. Do you understand?”
Considering the old Wolf’s words, Mac closed his eyes and searched deep inside. He’d mishandled Hannah from the beginning. As Sean pointed out, she relied on logic, numbers, routine. While he was overjoyed at the pregnancy, she was terrified. Terrified on levels he was just now beginning to comprehend.
Terror was a good word for the waves of emotion he’d heard in her voice. He stiffened and sat straighter, the sense of wrongness washing over him again. Behind the hurt, which he now recognized, there was real fear. Something had scared her, something that had nothing to do with their child. And he was hours away from her.
MAC PARKED HIS crew-cab pickup two blocks away from Hannah’s apartment. He glanced at Sean and Lightfoot, read their expressions. They felt it too. Something hunted in the dark. Sean was already stripping. Moments later, the door opened and a golden-brindle wolf leaped to the sidewalk and padded off. Lightfoot followed, a long, slim padded bag strung over his shoulder.
“Give me ten minutes to get to the roof.” The Indian sniper faded into the shadows and was gone. He would provide high cover.
He had to stay inside the truck. Mac knew this. Sean needed time to scout, Lightfoot time to get into position. That didn’t make his wolf happy. Mac and his animal both wanted to rush to Hannah’s apartment. To touch her. Smell her. See for themselves she was safe and unhurt. At seven minutes, he exited and locked the truck. He, too, faded into the dark. Three minutes later, he was close enough to hear the conversation of the two men parked across the street from Hannah’s building.
“I’m starved.”
“We can’t leave until the next shift gets here.”
“Man, the bitch isn’t going anywhere. This is stupid. She doesn’t know anything.”
“Yeah? Then why did she give Johansen the slip?”
The man chuckled. “My old granny could give Johansen the slip. He was probably too busy trying to pick up some skirt to see the bitch get off the train at her stop. Doesn’t matter. We know she’s up there now, all locked in for the night. And for the next four days. She was ordered to stay out of the office until Monday.”
“Will that give our guy enough time?”
“Above my pay grade, man.”
What the fuck? The insinuations baffled Mac. What was Hannah involved in? Why had she been ordered home? And who gave that order? Who were these guys? He glanced up, picked out Lightfoot’s silhouette on the roof above the car—a brief glimpse just to show him where the sniper had set up his nest. A moment later, Sean trotted down the sidewalk, stopping to sniff along the way. He paused at the front wheel of the car, lifted his leg, and marked the tire.
“Fuck!” The passenger opened the door and yelled. “Get the hell away from here, you stupid dog!”
Sean growled but ducked back like a startled—and submissive—dog. He darted across the street and blended back into the landscaping around the building’s door. A few minutes later, a couple arrived and Sean followed them in. Mac wanted to stay and listen to the men but his wolf was frantic to get to Hannah. He spent another few minutes circling around and approaching the building from the back. He discerned no threat from that direction and within a few breaths, he’d picked the lock on the back service door and was headed up the stairs to Hannah’s floor. Sean was waiting for him.
She’s there. Alone.
Mac allowed air to fill his lungs for the first time in hours and his muscles unlocked. He pressed the doorbell and listened for movement inside. When none came, he started work on the locks.
Call.
Distracted, he stared into Sean’s eyes. That made sense. He pulled out his cell phone and keyed in Hannah’s number. He heard the landline ring inside, then the answering machine pick up. “Hannah, answer.” When she didn’t, he dialed her cell phone. Then he texted her, though his fingers fumbled over the keys as his anxiety mounted.
He was about to kick in the door when his phone rang. “Hannah?”
“What do you want?” Her voice quivered.
“I’m outside the door. Let me in.”
“Go away.”
“Hannah? Baby? Please. Let me in.” He sucked in a breath to settle both himself and his wolf. “I’m about five seconds away from kicking in the door. I don’t want to do that, but baby? Something’s wrong. Why are two guys watching your place?”
Her gasp shredded his last thread of self-control. If Sean hadn’t darted in front of him, he would have kicked the door. Instead, he caught the sound of locks and deadbolts turning. As soon as she opened the door, he swept Hannah into his arms.
“God, baby. Are you okay? Please tell me you aren’t hurt. If anything happened to you... Fuck. I don’t know what I’d do.” His hands stroked and soothed and touched her everywhere as he made sure she was fine.
When he could breathe normally, he gestured Sean into the apartment and kicked the door shut. Mac cupped Hannah’s cheeks in his palms and gazed down at her. “You may not believe me, darlin’, but trust me. If anything ever happens to you, I’ll hunt down every sonvabitch that ever hurt you and rip out their throats.”
As relief washed through him, his muscles unlocked more and he started to tremble from the adrenaline drain. Unable to help himself, he swung Hannah into his arms and sank onto the couch with her cradled in his lap. “Okay, baby. Tell me. What’s going on?”
Words spilled out of her. The orders from Colonel Bradshaw. The files she’d brought home. The tail at the metro station. She hadn’t known about the shadows across the street. With little argument, she packed a bag and within fifteen minutes of their arrival, Hannah followed Mac and Sean, still in wolf form, down the stairs and out the back way. Fifteen minutes after that, they were headed away from DC, toward Ft. Lyle. Three teams of Wolves would damn sure keep her safe. Or they’d die trying.
