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IF IT HADN’T been for her doctor’s appointment, Mac would have kept her in the wilds of freaking Virginia. Hannah had all but convinced herself she was imagining threats behind every bush, despite evidence to the contrary. Thing was, once she got back to DC, things seemed to have smoothed out. No tails. No shadows. No hair rising on the back of her neck.
Maybe life would start to bear some resemblance to normal. The last time she’d felt in control was the moment she’d nailed First Sergeant Carter in the ass during her trial parachute jump. How did she get into these situations? The paper under her bare butt crinkled as she shifted positions. Thank God Mac had dropped her off. He’d mentioned some stuff he had to do at the Pentagon and that one of the Wolves would be waiting for her if he didn’t get back by the time her appointment was over. Not having him there to growl at the doctor would help the exam go faster, but she had to admit she was getting used to his presence.
The guy was sexy as hell, if a girl went for that whole chest-thumping alpha male deal. Sadly, she was turning into one of those women. The man had ways of worming through her defenses. He brought her coffee. In bed. Made just the way she liked it. And with him there, she could drink it. Go figure. He remembered her favorite foods, watched her favorite TV shows even if he hated them—just so he could sit next to her and cuddle. Hell, he’d even held her hair more than once during morning sickness. The man was insidious. And she missed him when he wasn’t there. Still, her heart remained frosty in that block of ice she’d erected around it. She had no choice. She was falling for the big jerk and she didn’t trust him with her emotions as far as she could throw him—which was all of about two feet. Maybe. On a good day.
A light tap on the door signaled the arrival of doctor and his nurse. Hannah could put away her dark thoughts for the moment. She had this other thing to worry about and wasn’t about to admit to the doctor she referred to the alien in her belly as Ripley. She’d already been weighed and measured. Now she got poked and prodded and lectured.
“You’ve lost weight,” the doctor complained.
“That’s a bad thing?”
“When you’re pregnant, yes. Eat more.”
“Uhm...morning sickness.”
He grabbed a pad and scribbled out a prescription. “Take this. It will help with the nausea. If you crave something, eat it. Unless it’s dirt. Or paint.” He shoved the slip at her. “See me next month.”
Hannah had just slipped on her boots when the door opened again. She wasn’t expecting to see Mac and the grim expression on his face had her straightening.
“We have a situation.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from a pocket of his combat pants.
All officer now, Hannah skimmed the info. “Oh. Fuckityfuckfuckfuckity. Shitandpissitalltohell. I have to get back to the office. Figure out what’s going on.”
“Captain Harjo is already working on it.”
Her knees suddenly weak, Hannah sagged, only to be caught up in Mac’s arms. He reluctantly deposited her back on the exam table.
“I don’t know what’s up, but I will get to the bottom of things. I’ll make sure you and the others are safe.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, babe, we can take care of ourselves. And those who belong to us.” He cupped her cheek. “And you belong to me, Hannah.”
A bit of the ice around her heart melted. “Do I? Belong to you?”
“Yeah. You belong with me, too, darlin’.”
More ice cracked. If she wasn’t careful, it would turn into the freaking spring thaw. She studied him, her gaze tracking over every inch of his face. He’d buzz cut his hair so it was just a dark shadow against his scalp. The slight dent in his strong chin was obscured by the dark scruff covering the lower half of his face. His was the face of a warrior, sculpted from granite with wide, deep-set eyes, an aquiline nose and a full mouth. She fixated on that mouth, remembering how it felt assaulting hers, his quick, clever tongue. The parallel lines between his brows knitted as he tried to figure out what she was thinking. He wasn’t beautiful. He wasn’t even handsome though he turned female heads from the sheer...force of his presence. He was good-looking, yes, in a rugged way. She thought warrior again.
He’d surprised her. Every fucking step of the way. She expected him to cut and run. He stuck like glue. She ran. He chased. She put up barriers. He tore them down. He was relentless. Implacable. Steady. She saw single-mindedness in his expression. And honor. Duty. And when she got lost in the honeyed warmth of his brown eyes, she saw love. For their baby, yes, but for her. Her. For the very first time, she recognized her importance and all his words played back.
“Hannah? Babe? What is it?”
She circled his wrist with her fingers. “You.” She leaned toward him, brushed her lips across his. His soft exhalation teased her skin and she leaned her forehead against his. “Let’s go fix this mess, soldier.”
She understood now. Mac got her. Life wouldn’t be easy, but they’d get through it. Or kill each other trying.
HANNAH SHOVED FINGERS through her messy hair. A month. She’d been searching for answers for a fucking month and had nothing to show for it. Of course, she was combing through files all by herself. She didn’t know who she could trust. She’d spoken to the Secretary of the Army, quietly, in the garden of his home where she’d been invited to afternoon tea by his wife. Who wanted to throw her a baby shower. She trusted him. And she trusted the system. She had to. The Wolves had been safe for...two hundred damn years. Their secret held close by a handful of military officers and the commander in chief.
She felt like a hamster on a damn wheel and she was fucking tired of the squeaking. Her door swung open and the “What the fuck” on the tip of her tongue died as she recognized the intruder.
“Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I don’t have to knock to come in here.”
“Oh? Really? And what would you have done if the Secretary had been sitting here.”
“He wasn’t.”
“But you didn’t know that.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? I always know when a man is near you. Besides, the Secretary wouldn’t come to you. You’d be in his office.” He smirked a little, which only served to piss her off more.”
“Get out, Mac. I have work to do.”
“So do I.”
He stalked around the desk and Hannah gulped. “I don’t have time for cat and mouse games.”
“I’m not a cat.” The wolfish grin stretching his lips was proof of that.
“Dammit, Sergeant Major McIntire, get the fuck out of my office.”
“Pulling rank doesn’t work, Major Darlin’. You should know that by now.”
She thumped his chest as he pinned her against the back of her desk chair. He didn’t bother saying “ow.” They both knew she couldn’t hurt him with her fists. She’d tried—often—just to make a point. He always backed off, only to return with an icepack for her injured hand and a kiss for her bruised ego.
“You need to rest.”
“I can’t.”
“An hour or two isn’t going to make a difference.”
“It might. I’m still tracking leaks, Mac. And getting transfers set up for all the support personnel. I’ve got work to do.”
“Not at the expense of our child. These months are crucial, Hannah.”
Mac gentled his voice and his manner. Hannah had adapted to her strange new life with better graces than he would have, if the combat boot had been on the other foot. His mate was a stubborn, infuriating woman. And he loved her.
HANNAH READ THE information in the file for what was probably the tenth time. None of it made sense. She’d acted on instinct, getting the sailors undergoing the experiments in Nevada out, their location deeply buried. And now the Wolves were in the crosshairs, evidently targeted for what they were. She didn’t know what to do, who to talk to, wasn’t positive if the information she had was correct. That if was a big one. She’d been combing records for five months now and frustration bubbled just beneath the surface of her calm. Whenever she thought she had a thread to tug, the damn thing would break. Or disappear. Numbers. She had to follow the numbers and those slimy little bastards were worse than a pond full of just-hatched tadpoles. There were thousands of them all swimming in different directions.
The hairs on her arms prickled and she glanced up. Mac lounged in the doorway of her office, brawny shoulder braced against the jamb.
“What are you doing here?” She didn’t mean to sound bitchy but her emotions shifted over into that territory when he flashed that superior I-know-everything look she hated.
“You need to eat.”
Glancing at her watch, she blinked in surprise. Almost two. Where had the morning gone? She was supposed to eat something every couple of hours. She hadn’t since six that morning when she’d inhaled a protein drink on her way out the door. Life was less complicated when Mac was back at Ft. Lyle. In self-defense, she snarled, “I’m fine.”
“Don’t be stubborn, babe.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Then make it.”
“Command Sergeant Major—”
“Don’t pull rank, Major. It just pisses both of us off.” He pushed off the wall, his gaze lasering in on her expression. He read her, his nostrils flaring at her scent—the ammonia stench of fear overlaid with the dusty odor of her exhaustion. “Hannah? What’s wrong?”
She pushed fingers through her short cap of blond hair as she looked away. “Nothing.”
He checked where the people outside her office were located. Several milled around though most were at their desks. Mac closed the door but didn’t go to her. He wanted to. Wanted to take her in his arms, but he remained where he stood, feet planted shoulder-width apart, leaning against the door. “You’re worried. What is it?”
Scrubbing at her forehead with the heels of her hands, she continued to avoid looking directly at him. “Someone is hunting the Wolves.” She hesitated a long moment before dropping her hands on her desk and glaring up at him. “There’s a leak.”
“How do you figure?” Mac’s expression didn’t change though his heart tripped double time.
“You thought the same on that last mission to Bosnia. And...” She shoved the file toward him. “Here.” She waited while he read, doing her best not to fidget, despite the fingers of her left hand drumming on her thigh under the desk.
His stony gaze met hers. “There’s someone inside. Well placed.”
“Yeah. You, the teams. I have to get all of you out of their reach.”
“You as well.”
“No. I need to work this. Find out who’s behind it all.”
The color of Mac’s eyes morphed to frozen coffee and feral red glinted in their depths. “Have you considered the fact that you’re a target too?”
Her head tilted to the left as she lifted that shoulder in a negligent shrug. “I’m smarter.”
“No.”
“No, I’m not smarter?”
He growled his frustration at her flippant question. “No, I won’t let you endanger your life, or the baby’s.”
“If I don’t figure out what’s going on and who’s targeting Wolves, the baby will never be safe.”
She was right, and he fucking hated it. If he had hair, he would have been yanking it out by the handful. So far, only Captain Harjo and the Whiskey teams knew Hannah was carrying his child. She was showing now, had put in for maternity leave beginning with her eighth month. Her superiors had adopted a don’t ask-don’t tell attitude. She had six months accumulated and he’d been working to convince her to take all of it. He was getting ready to insist—but he had to wait. He’d come to tell her he had a mission. Short term. The team would be gone no more than a week. But she’d be on her own, here in Washington, in the fucking middle of the snake pit.
Hannah closed her eyes, exhaled, and rolled her head on her neck. He could hear the snap, crackle and pop. “Why are you here, Mac?”
He had to be blunt, especially since she was in a pissy mood. She wouldn’t appreciate him trying to roll her in bubble wrap. “We have a mission.”
Her eyelids jerked open and she blanched as she looked at him. The pungent scent of ammonia filled the room. “When? Where? Why?”
Mac tossed her a cocky grin. “You left out who and how.”
“Gawddammit, Mac.”
“It’s okay, babe. This is just routine. It’s been on the roster for awhile. Even before the Bosnian operation came up. Escort duty. No more than a week, and not a hot zone.”
“I don’t like it.” She laid it off on the fact that she hadn’t tracked down the threat, not to her own nerves jumping at the thought of him being gone. They didn’t see each other every day. She was still in DC, he was in western Virginia. He could get there fast if she needed him. On a mission? She’d be on her own while he was out of country.
He wrapped her up in his arms despite her desultory attempt to get free. “You have Captain Harjo’s number. Call him if there’s a problem. I’ll get to you ASAP. And he’ll get you covered until I can get here. Okay?”
“Fine. Just...fine.”
Mac laughed and kissed her forehead. “No, it’s not fine. I’ll be back as quick as I can. Try to stay out of trouble, Major.”
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”
