Blind Fury (7 page)

“Everyone except for the girl who lived in this unit,” said an older woman. “I don’t know if she was home, but her car’s here,” she added, her eyes shimmering in the flames.

“I’m fine, Mrs. O’Malley,” Jenna said as she walked up from behind him. “We weren’t inside.”

The woman stepped forward and pulled Jenna into her arms. “The explosion rocked the house, and I had no idea what it was, but then I saw the fire. I was so scared for you…”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said, caught up in the woman’s embrace. “I hope there’s not too much damage to your place.”

Unbelievable. Her house had just been annihilated and she was consoling her neighbor.

“What happened?” Mrs. O’Malley asked.

“I don’t know.” Jenna stared at the flames as if they might hold the answers. She had to be wondering if this was related to the break-in earlier. As he was.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, dear. First your brother and now this… You must be reeling.” Mrs. O’Malley let her go with a pat on the arm, shaking her head in sympathy.

“It hasn’t been my best day,” Jenna said, watching the flames lick at the roof, her back rigid as she hugged herself.

Mick reached out to steady her, afraid that she might collapse, but he needn’t have worried. She was stronger than he gave her credit for, stronger than he could comprehend. He marveled that she could have a sense of humor about such a disaster, but it would go a long way toward helping her recover. He itched to wrap her up and carry her to safety, but she wouldn’t let him. Of that he was certain.

Instead, he watched in horrified fascination as the vinyl siding on the neighbors’ homes melted like wax at the corners, reminding him of a stroke victim’s face—smiling on one side, sagging on the other.

Before long, the firefighters arrived, quickly blocking off a perimeter around the building and moving the crowd back so they could get to work with their hoses. EMTs checked the bystanders for injuries and cleaned the small cuts on Jenna’s hands and face. They gave Mick an ice pack for his knee.

Shortly thereafter, the police interviewed them. The detective looked skeptical when Jenna insisted she had no idea who might have targeted her. Was she involved with some shady crime group? Did she have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt her?

Ordinary people did not have their homes ransacked and then blown up.

After the interrogation, Jenna watched silently as the fire crew worked, until nothing was left of her home but wet ash and smoke-blackened brick. A disaster cleanup crew arrived to board up the windows and cover the roof with a tarp.

“I’m not sure why they’re bothering. There’s nothing left.” She clenched her fists and pressed her lips tight, fighting for control.

Mick beat down the urge to hold her again. When he thought about how easily she could have been killed… He didn’t want to care so much, hadn’t known he was still
capable
of caring so much.

“Let’s go. You must be exhausted.”

She hugged herself as she stared at the remains of her home. The street was no longer filled with gawking spectators, the people in the neighborhood having returned to their regularly scheduled lives.

He gently pushed her along toward his car, which had been protected from damage by the low berm and a large truck that was parked next to it.

Back at his condo fifteen minutes later, he prodded her to take a shower, gave her a T-shirt and boxers to wear to bed, and dug up a travel toothbrush. Other than thanking him, she didn’t speak to him at all. Nor did she cry. He knew the numb feeling all too well. In war, you either learned to distance yourself from the horror or you put a bullet in your head.

Hours after he’d tucked her beneath the covers on his futon, Mick woke with a start, his heart pounding after a dream he couldn’t remember. Whatever it was about, it had left him gasping with feelings of pain and loss.

Too anxious to lie still, he crept into the living room to check on Jenna. In the dim light filtering through the window, she looked up at him, her eyes dry but wide with fear. Not of him though. She didn’t shrink away when he slipped under the covers next to her.

Instead, she let him wrap around her like a cloak, and relaxed into his embrace with a small sigh. Within minutes, her breathing was deep and even, and the anxious creases in her face eased away.

She was beautiful, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to her temple, though he managed to control his less dignified urges. Lying with her brought him a kind of peace he’d never experienced, one he needed as much as she did. One of his last thoughts before falling asleep was that he’d never just
slept
with a woman before.

He was surprised by how much he liked it.

“This one is my favorite,” Colin said to Tara as they stood in front of the Korean War Memorial.

The statues glowed gray in the dark, oversized ghosts of a battalion—or regiment or whatever they called it—frozen in motion, stopped in their tracks, just like the men who’d died. It was a bit eerie, really.

Her first thought when he brought up the idea over dinner in DuPont Circle had been “ugh.” Even for a former commando, visiting the monuments seemed a bit cliché. But she’d been wrong. It was powerful, moving, and somehow romantic. Most guys would have taken her to a movie or a loud bar. How were you supposed to get to know someone when you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts?

They’d spent the last two hours strolling beside the reflecting pool under the canopy of trees, talking about everything and nothing. He was the oldest of four boys and had grown up in Illinois. He’d been in the Army and served with Troy Griffin before a knee injury forced him out of Airborne. Griffin had invited him to join Claymore from the very beginning, and he’d jumped at another chance to join the fight against the Taliban and insurgents.

“Our role is different as private security contractors. We’re more of a protective detail, either for people, equipment, or buildings. And sometimes we train the local police forces. But every once in a while, we get to do our part to reduce the terrorist population,” he’d told her.

His easy attitude toward killing others—even if they were the enemy—bothered her, but she supposed it was hard to stay objective when your life was in danger day in and day out. And then the tough guy had surprised her with his sensitive side, asking about her own upbringing in northern Virginia.

And speaking of sensitive, he must have noticed her goosebumps, because his hands slid along her arms as he tugged her back against his chest, instantly chasing away the chill. Her belly did a slow flip while her heart danced to a nervous beat. She hardly knew him, but the attraction was almost animal.

In an attempt to distract herself, she looked back at the memorial and said, “I think this is my favorite too. I’ve been down here dozens of times, but never at night. It’s surprisingly beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping his warm arms around her.

A shiver chased across her skin. He was so big and strong and hard, and she thought briefly about Mick’s concerns. But she’d seen nothing tonight to make her worry. Maybe she should be scared, but instead, she wanted to peel away his layers and learn more. Did he like dogs or cats? What kind of music did he listen to? What turned him on?

Well, actually, based on the evidence pressed tight to her lower back, she was pretty sure
she
did. It was either her or the ghost soldiers.

She rotated in his arms and ran her palms along the brick wall of his chest, feeling every ridge and ripple as she worked her way down his ribs. His hold tightened around her waist and he cradled her head in his giant hand. She had only a second to register the desire in his dark eyes before he captured her mouth.

His lips were soft but insistent, his tongue molten as he licked and teased his way inside. Her body buzzed with energy and heat pooled between her thighs as she and Colin waged intimate battle.

He won.

She wanted to climb him like a tree, wrap herself around him, and feel him deep inside. She was wanton and mad. God, what the hell was wrong with her?

He cupped her ass, and she forgot to care.

He broke the kiss with a low groan, his breath coming fast and heavy. “Stay with me tonight.”

“It’s nine a.m., Jay.”

Jenna’s eyes popped open to see Mick’s face just inches away from hers. Close enough to kiss. And, oh God, how she wanted to know what he tasted like. Last night, she’d been too tired and numb to want anything but comfort, and he’d surprised her by sensing that. Now, though, wide awake in the light of day with his warm breath on her neck, something coiled in her belly at the sight of him.

He watched her, his pupils dilating until only a small ring of bright blue remained. “Breakfast is ready,” he said.

And then, just like that, he stood, breaking the spell he’d cast. Why did he always have this effect on her? He was like fire. He mesmerized and danced and teased, but if she ever gave in and grabbed hold, she was sure she’d get burned.

Despite the goodness she could see in him, she knew deep in her soul that he’d break her heart if she let him. But the more time she spent with him, the less she cared. Which was stupid. She gave herself a mental shake. Lust was a fool’s game, and she was better than that. When she finally gave her heart to a man, it would be for keeps, and he wouldn’t be an unpredictable adrenaline junky like Mick.

Besides, she had more important things to think about, like who was gunning for her. The only important thing was to get her life back. She shot to her feet and grabbed her clothes from the coffee table where Mick had left them folded after they came out of the dryer.

Somehow it seemed fitting that all she had left in the world was wash-and-wear funeral clothes.

 
More aware of her surroundings this morning, she took in the decor of his home as she crossed the small living room. The condo had crown moldings, neutral colors, and plush beige carpeting, but that’s where the designer touches ended. The only furnishings were the green futon she’d slept on, a scarred coffee table, two stools at the breakfast bar, and the huge flat-screen TV on the wall. No pictures, knickknacks, or plants. The word
sterile
popped to mind.

As she headed to the master bath through the bedroom, it became instantly clear that this was the only room where Mick worried about making an impression. A cherry sleigh bed took center stage, flanked by matching nightstands and neatly covered with a dark maroon bedspread. This room had probably welcomed more women than a gynecologist’s office.

Pushing away the unwelcome thought, she ducked into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

Five minutes later, she sat at the granite breakfast bar, fork in hand. She had to admit that Mick made a mean omelet. Who knew he could cook? Somehow she’d slept through all of his banging around in the kitchen.

“That was delicious,” she said. “Thanks.”

He grinned and she ignored the extra thump of her heart. If only she could ignore him. That would have made life a lot easier. And she could use some easy for a change.

Her chest still hurt at the thought of everything she’d lost, so she decided not to think about it, to focus on making lists instead. A master list of everything she needed got her started, followed by smaller sublists for things like potential apartment complexes, clothing basics to replace, and personal essentials she needed to pick up.

The only short list would be the one with ideas for who was after her and Mick.
 

She scooted back from the bar and cleared her dishes. “Do you have anything on your schedule for today?” Probably a hot date with some on-again off-again local girl, in which case, she didn’t want to know. “I need to do some shopping, but I could rent a car. Now that my house is toast—” She stilled. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I said that.”

Hysteria forced up little bubbles of laughter and she swiveled away from him, stricken that she could laugh about it. She didn’t feel like laughing. What the hell was wrong with her? She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to hold back the unwanted sounds.

“It’s okay, Jay. Happens all the time when our brain can’t process something.” He rested a warm hand on her shoulder. “When I was seventeen, my mom and I got rear-ended at a stoplight. I laughed until the paramedics came. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop. She was pissed as hell, and I’m not sure she ever forgave me for it, even though the medic said it was pretty common.”

She closed her eyes and focused on his smooth voice and reassuring touch. “Thank you,” she said, dropping her hands as the manic giggles finally subsided.

“No worries. And my calendar is clear for the foreseeable future, so I’m all yours.”

Until he left again. And he’d never be
all
hers. “When are you going back?” she asked.

“Eager to be rid of me already, huh?” When she didn’t return his smile, he cleared his throat. “I promised Rob I wouldn’t go back, but I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do next.” Pain crossed his face for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked it with a smug grin. “I’m sure I’ll find something that’s in my wheelhouse. Apparently, Dan knows a guy who’s a flight medic. Or I might look into firefighter jobs.”
 

Of course. He didn’t talk much about his childhood, but she knew it had been rough. Was that why he always pushed his limits? Was he trying to prove something, or just running away? She held in a sigh. “Well, I should be able to find a furnished apartment in the next few days, and then I can get out of your hair,” she said. Rebuilding her life would be a lot easier without him around as a distraction.
 

“Skip the apartment search for now. I want you here until we get this figured out. This place is already set up with security. Plus, I know the emergency exits, where my weapons are, and how someone would approach.” The warrior came out as his spine stiffened and his jaw hardened. “I can protect you here.”

He’d already lined up his strongest arguments without waiting for her to protest. Helplessness crept over her, heavy and thick as a wool blanket, her sense of control slipping out of her grasp. “And how long do I have to sleep on your lumpy futon before you declare that I’m safe to reenter the world?”