Crave (The MacKenzie Family #11) (16 page)

She looked up and touched his cheek gently, gazing into the blue of his eyes. “For most of my life there’s been one person who took the time to invest in me—even when we were stupid kids with no sense of self-preservation between us. You’ve always had my back. I know that. And I know that you love me.”

She kissed him softly. “I love you, too. Have loved only you since I was old enough to know what those feelings were. So yes, I trust you. To love me, to work beside me, and to live with me. For as long as we both shall live.”

“Are you proposing to me, sugar?”

“I figure it’s my turn to lay out the rules of the game this time.”

“How about we negotiate,” he said, nipping at her lip, the wicked look in his eyes sending her hormones into overdrive.

“Why don’t we,” she agreed.

Surrender, Montana

T
he Fourth of July was something the MacKenzies celebrated in full force. For more than a hundred years, people from the community joined them on the back lawns of the original MacKenzie homestead.

The home had been added to over the years, so it was a mishmash of rooms sprawling in all directions. But the purpose of the house had stayed the same through all that time—it was a home built for family—to be the center of births, weddings, and deaths. Good and prosperous times, and the not so good.

To the MacKenzies, family was the core of what they were. And between John and James MacKenzie, they’d managed to continue on the line with nine children between them—eight boys and a girl. And those children had done a pretty damned good job of ensuring the MacKenzie legacy by marrying and producing children of their own. A lot of children.

The homestead had passed down from generation to generation, and it was Thomas and Cat MacKenzie who resided there now. To the MacKenzies, tradition meant everything, so picnic tables were brought out of storage and washed and scrubbed. Plastic tablecloths were set out, gallons of tea were made, and streamers and lanterns were strung from the oak trees.

A stage was constructed for the band and stakes were driven into the ground so horseshoes could be played by the men while the women rocked babies in the shade and talked about the same things that women for hundreds of years had been talking about.

“Boys, you’re putting those picnic tables too close together,” Mary MacKenzie called out from the back porch. A woman didn’t raise five children and not know how to speak so she could be heard. “We’ll all be sitting in each other’s laps if you don’t spread them out some.”

“Five seconds ago they were too far apart,” Cade said, but he and Declan scooted them out some just as their mother had asked.

“And five seconds from now I’m going to take a strap to your backside, Cade MacKenzie. Don’t you sass me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said to the snickers of his brothers and cousins.

“Another tradition fulfilled,” Grant said. “Cade is always the first to get yelled at every holiday.”

Of the five siblings, he was the most laid back and cautious. Nothing much riled him up, and it was often said he moved slower than a lame duck in winter when he was thinking something over, but that’s just because he wanted to make sure he made the right decisions.

Cade and Declan put down the picnic table, and then before Grant could blink Cade rushed him and hit him around the middle with his shoulder, lifting him up in a fireman’s carry. There were hoots of laughter as Grant went flying into the lake, landing with a splash.

“That’s a tradition too,” Cade said, grinning. “You make it so easy, brother.”

Grant treaded water where he was and squinted up at his brother. “My best sunglasses are at the bottom of the lake. You either find them or get me another pair.”

“You mean these sunglasses.” Cade held them up with a smile. “The spoils of war.”

Declan and their cousin Cooper flanked Cade from behind on either side and Cade grinned at the implication. It had been a while since he’d had a good fight. Maybe when they’d all gotten together at Christmas.

“Boys,” Mary MacKenzie yelled from the porch.

But it was too late. Declan and Cooper rushed him at the same time, the sunglasses went flying, and all three of them went into the lake. Sometimes you had to sacrifice yourself to bring a man down. It was all worth it in the end.

“Just a bunch of overgrown children,” Darcy said, shaking her head. As the youngest of the five and the only girl, she’d had a lot of experience watching the mayhem unfold. She’d also thrown her share of first punches, so it wasn’t like she was completely innocent either.

The women started to gather around to watch and place bets—the wives making sure to put their money on their husbands—and Thomas came around the side of the house and said, “I brought my medical bag just in case. And I’m not using anesthesia on anyone who needs stitches. Serves you right.”

“Way to uphold that whole Hippocratic Oath thing,” Sophia said, wincing as a fist glanced off her husband’s jaw. Declan didn’t let punches get past him very often and he was going to be pissed at whoever made contact. Thomas would need that medical bag before it was all over.

“Aunt Mary is going to be so mad,” Dane said, putting his arm around his wife Charlotte and watching the fight. “I’ve got twenty on Cade. He’s got a newborn, so he hasn’t had sex in a while. He’ll have a lot of frustrations to get out.”

He
mmmphed
as his wife’s elbow made contact with his ribs, but just grabbed her closer in a bear hug and squeezed until she started laughing.

“I’ll take your twenty and double it to put on Declan,” Sophia said. “A newborn means no sleep, so he’s weak.”

“We have three hundred people showing up in the next couple of hours and this is what they decide to do,” Mary said. “I’ll say this for them. They’re consistent. This is the reason Jim and I travel all the time.” She wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head. “I’ve got to get inside and make potato salad for the masses. Don’t let them track through the house wet. They can strip down in the barn like they did when they were kids.”

She turned to head back toward the house, but she stopped in her tracks. Tears flooded her eyes before she could stop them, and she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. Being a mother was difficult. Being a mother to honorable, testosterone driven men was only accomplished through the will of God.

Shane sat in his wheelchair at the top of the grassy hill next to the house, the doctor Declan had hired standing behind him. She couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but Declan had assured her she was the best there was. At that moment in time, Mary could’ve kissed the ground she walked on for getting him there in the first place.

Her youngest son had given her a lifetime of worry. He’d always kept himself separated from the pack, wanting to go his own way. He’d been so sweet as a child, but had been in a hurry to shed it so he could keep up with his brothers. He was quicker to start a fight and hit harder. And he was stubborn as a mule. He got that from his father.

She’d been as proud as any mother could be when he’d joined the Navy and then become a SEAL, but she’d seen the change in him over time. The hardness and cynicism that had become as much a part of him as the color of his hair or eyes.

He’d come back from missions battered and bruised and silent, acclimating to being at home or around civilians again, and he’d sit for hours in silence. She knew there were wounds that could never be healed on her son. But she prayed daily the wounds would fade into scars and that he could see another future—another path.

Her husband came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder in support, and she noticed the fight had stopped in the water and everyone’s attention was focused on Shane.

He stared straight ahead—stoic—and she was afraid if anyone said or did the wrong thing then he’d get up out of that chair and bolt, missing leg or no. Physically he looked better than the last time she’d seen him. He was gaining weight and that awful hollowness in his face had filled out some. He was clean and he wore old jeans that covered the injuries on his good leg, and he’d folded and pinned the other leg so it stopped just below the knee.

Mary squeezed her husband’s hand and called out, “Shane MacKenzie it’s about time you got here. I could use some help. We’ve got a million people showing up and your brothers are playing in the water like fools.

For a moment she thought he’d spin his wheelchair in the opposite direction and go back to his cabin. The boys climbed out of the lake and started stripping down to the underwear on the dock, and Shane just stared at them in silence.

“You guys are getting old,” Shane said. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised he spoke aloud—him or his brothers and cousins. “Five years ago it would’ve been a cold day in hell before y’all let Grant get in punches like that. Nice shot on Cade’s eye though, Grant. He didn’t even see it coming.”

Grant groaned and shot Shane the middle finger.

“That was you?” Cade asked, narrowing his eyes at Grant.

“Thanks a lot Shane,” Grant called out. “You always were a tattletale.”

“Nah. I just like to stir shit up.” Shane undid the brakes on his wheelchair and slowly started making his way down the hill toward them.

Mary didn’t realize she was crying until her husband placed a handkerchief in her hand and squeezed her fingers around it. It was going to be a good day.

Shane had done his duty.

He’d done what Shaw had asked and spent the day with his family. He’d put up with small talk and a million questions from people he didn’t really give a damn about, and he’d done a good job, in his opinion, of not punching anyone in the face who annoyed him. But from the number of dirty looks he’d gotten from Shaw maybe he hadn’t done such a good job after all.

The one thing he’d been adamant about was being back home in his cabin by the time the fireworks started. He didn’t particularly want to be in a crowded place when it got dark and explosions started going off overhead. The citizens of Surrender didn’t need a free show to go with the fireworks.

He turned his wheelchair and started heading back up the hill, away from the crush of people marking their territory with picnic blankets, and ignored his brother when he called out after him.

“I know you can hear me,” Declan said as he came up beside his wheelchair.

“Yep. I’m just choosing to ignore you.”

Declan snorted out a laugh and angled himself so Shane would have to physically move him out of the way.

“I need to talk to you about Doctor Shaw.”

That was the only thing that could convince Shane to stop and listen. He wanted information about Shaw, and he’d get it any way he could, even by secondhand means.

“Where is she?”

“I told her I’d walk you back and to enjoy the fireworks.”

Declan moved out of the way and Shane continued to wheel himself up the hill. Dec didn’t offer to help and Shane wouldn’t have accepted, so it was best neither of them brought it up. His upper body strength was back at a hundred percent, and it didn’t take long to make it to the top of the hill and one of the Jeeps they kept on the property.

Declan waited until Shane lifted himself into the passenger side of the Jeep before putting his chair in the back, and then he started up the engine and they headed to the opposite side of the property where MacKenzie Security headquarters was tucked safely behind a twenty foot wall that went around the entire perimeter of the property.

It’s not like all they had to look at was the walls. Most of the land was thickly forested and there were a couple of small lakes on the property. Declan and his wife, Sophia, had built their home behind the walls, and so had his other brothers and their families and his sister Darcy and her husband, Brant.

Shane understood the importance of family and the lengths one would go to for their safety. And with the sensitive information that passed through MacKenzie Security and the danger of being an agent with a family that could be used against them, the need for the twenty-foot fence and protection was more necessary than ever. Especially since they knew firsthand what it was like to be ambushed on their own land.

“It must be bad if you’re waiting this long to decide how you want to word things,” Shane finally said.

Dec grinned again and punched in the code to open the gates of the compound. “I’m just tired. I want all these people off our land and I want to take my wife to bed.”

“Good luck with that. As long as there’s food there will be people. What’s the deal with Shaw?”

“I need to put her back on active duty,” Dec said. “When I saw your progress tonight and the fact that you came out to be with us at all, I knew she’d done what I sent her to do. You look strong and your leg is healing well. MacKenzie R&D has some prototype prosthetics for you to try when you’re ready. I’ve held off as long as I could from removing her from the picture so you could have stability. But she’s too big of an asset.”

“A physical therapist is too big of an asset?” Shane asked with a laugh. Inside his guts were clenched and his skin clammy. The thought of being without Shaw didn’t sit well. She’d been his lifeline for months.