Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three (10 page)

Fully aware that he could not dissuade his headstrong daughter from following in his footsteps, John Larsson did the best he could—he taught her how to stay alive.

Lorelei’s words stayed with her.
Did Lorelei have it right? Am I an adrenaline junkie,
too? Is that my problem? Do I need the constant challenge of fear and excitement to keep me
centered? Do I need to be jacked up to feel alive? Is that why I can’t survive a serious
relationship? What mortal man could compete with a locker full of explosives? Regardless of the
situation, I know my crew will never let me down: no man left behind. No woman, in my case.

Abandonment is not an option. Most people can’t say the same about romantic entanglements.

In Keko’s experience, many military lifers, law enforcement officers, firefighters, search and rescue personnel, professionals who lived on the edge, became addicted to the intensity of their professions. They needed that spark of danger, the threat of peril, to keep the juices flowing, to keep them feeling vital, necessary, alive. She was sure that extended obsession, at such high levels, accounted for the number of infidelities, divorces, broken homes. For such men—and women—partners and teams became, out of necessity, closer than family, closer than spouses. Keko had begun to keep notes, just out of curiosity. Of the Larsson crews, the only married guys were newcomers. In the first twelve months, newbies either left the job as being too physically and emotionally demanding, or their wives left them for mates who led more normal lives.

Why can’t MacBride leave the relationship as it is? Isn’t incredible sex between us
enough?
She considered that. Did MacBride fill the physical gap for her, so she didn’t lose total contact with her humanity?

Then again, mix former military and current law enforcement with two demolitions experts—that recipe could’ve proven volatile. Keko saw trouble on the horizon, there was no doubt.
Where could this possibly lead?

Well down the length of the par course trail, she stopped, stretched, perched on a wooden railing to the side of the path. The cat sniffed the granola when it was offered, and plainly indicated such fare wasn’t worth consuming. Keko ate the protein bars, then tucked the wrappers in the pocket of her jacket for later disposal.

“Cat, normally I would agree with you, but it’s better than picking nuts and berries in the woods, or checking out carcasses for signs of freshness. Call me silly, but I prefer granola to mice.” Keko gave the creature a look, shook her head. “Great, now I’m talking to a cat.”

“You could talk to me, but the cat is probably more interestin’.”

The cat spit, yowled, and ran. Keko yipped, jumped off the railing, fell into a crouch as she spun toward the masculine voice. Her hand flew to her hip, came up empty.
Oh, that’s just great. I left the lodge without a sidearm. Damn it.

A lean, muscled man stepped silently from behind a huge pine, an older man, his long, greying braids held back by a red bandana. His blue plaid shirt was as faded as his worn jeans, and his scuffed boots had seen better days. The sun had weathered his nut-brown face, with crow’s feet and deeply etched lines. Still, she thought he must have been a handsome man in his younger days. His black eyes were clear and bright, his features square and chiseled, with high cheekbones.

“Who the hell are you? FBI? Undercover? Sonofabitch! Wear a bell around your neck or something. Saints in a freakin’ sidecar. You coulda sent me into freakin’ cardiac arrest.” Her hands flew to her chest, as if the gesture would calm her racing heart.

“Nah, not one of those guys. They’re too noisy, like buffalo in the bush. You woulda heard ‘em.”

He took a moment to look her over. Casual. Not threatening. At least, she didn’t think he appeared threatening.

“Bobby Black Crow, former Army scout.” He kept his distance, didn’t move close enough to offer his hand.

“Yeah, well, Bobby Black Crow, former Army scout, you scared the goddamned shit outa me.” Her hand still over her heart, she hoped her pulse would eventually slow down.

“Yep, that seems to happen. Especially with you women.”

”
Us
women? Did you pull this stunt on Lorelei?”

He shook his head, hooked his thumbs behind his carved leather belt. “Hell no.

She’s crazy, and she’s armed. That female woulda shot me dead, then skinned my sorry carcass before it hit the ground.”

“Then what are you doing out here? Are you a friend of Adam’s or Lucian’s?”

“We know each other.”

The adrenaline still spiking, Keko took an aggressive spread-legged stance, fists parked on her waist. “Okay, look, Mr. Black Crow. You scared the crap outa me and I’m in no mood to play twenty damned questions. Since you obviously decided knocking on the front door wouldn’t work for you, exactly what the hell do you want?”

“Feisty little thing, aren’t ya. Kinda like a blue jay with young’uns in the nest. Not so much what I want, more like what your friends need ta know. Tell your man there’s been someone hangin’ around Smitty’s place, just outa sight of the FBI. He’ll want to know. He can pass it on.”

“My man? I don’t have a man.”

“The sheriff. MacBride. He’s a good one, spoke up for me at my hearin’. So did those two Marines. Only got community service for poachin’. Of course, I was huntin’, not poachin’, but the law didn’t see it that way.”

“Why the hell did you say that MacBride is
my
man?”

“Just be sure you tell him.”

“But what made you think … .?”

Then, just as quickly as he appeared, Bobby Black Crow vanished into the woods with the stealth of a fox. His words trailed behind.

“You’re fresh outa his bed. I can smell him all over you.”

Chapter Seven

Monday

Mac had been awake when Keko left his bed. He played possum to see what she would do. Grabbing her and pulling her back under the bedclothes with him would have been his choice, but she seemed determined to sneak away.
If she was so hell-bent on
leaving, why did she brush the hair away from my eyes?
Why were her warm, soft lips so tender when she kissed his forehead?
Damn, she’s an exasperating woman
. A vibrant, headstrong, sexy, but still exasperating woman.

He’d been serious about someone only once in his life, serious to the point of marriage. But what he felt for Keko seemed different, stronger. He always joked that his brothers had better luck with the ladies—although he did admit that the MacBride boys made a striking quartet when they cruised their favorite hometown watering holes and eateries.

“I swear, you’re the bane of my existence,” his mother would say, repeatedly, when they’d all reached their teens. That led to the boys happily tormenting their mom by referring to themselves as Banes One, Two, Three, and Four. Mac was Three.

However, even though they made her crazy, their mama couldn’t hide the love and pride in her voice.
Her boys
. Their father would just smile and shake his head, go back to his sacred workshop to build beautiful things for their mother.

Down in the kitchen, Mac moved out of the way so Adam could whip up breakfast. Lucian brewed the coffee, set the table, then parked out of the way to suck down the caffeine he appeared to need.

Lucian gave Mac the hairy eyeball. “Boy howdy, chief, you’re not lookin’ so good.

Definitely rode hard, put up wet.”

“Yeah, well, Golden Boy, you should check the mirror before casting aspersions on others.” Mac held out his mug for Lucian to fill.

Lucian poured. ”
Ooh
, big words this morning. Did you hear that, hoss? I’m casting aspersions.”

“It means you made a rude and insulting remark, Luce. Not fishing for trout.”

Adam turned back to the stove.

“Hell, I knew that.” Lucian pulled out another chair and rested his feet. “I’m just sayin’ it appears to have been a lively night all the way ‘round. An observation, that’s all.”

Already in a mood, Mac’s back stiffened; he sat up straighter.

“Duquesne, if you have something to say … .”

“If Duquesne has something to say, he’ll keep his sweet, sexy, Southern boy mouth closed until the caffeine reaches his brain and the little gray cells kick in. Won’t you, darling?”

Lorelei strolled into the kitchen, sidled up to Adam for a quick kiss, then settled on Lucian’s lap. “Hayseed.”

Lucian wrapped his arms around her, nuzzled her ear. “Heartless wench. There’s no call to be takin’ the sheriff’s side. He’s only a guest. I live here. I’m special, and I have privileges.”

“Mac is not a guest. He’s a friend.”

Lorelei kissed her blond Adonis full on the mouth. “Here’s one of your privileges. Now, hush up, be a good boy, and brew up a nice cup of special lemon tea to perk up your exhausted woman.”

She slid off Lucian’s lap, settled on his chair as soon as he rose to put the water on to boil. Lucian refused to use the microwave to brew tea.

Since Lorelei had arrived rather abruptly at Sanctuary months earlier, Mac never ceased to be amazed at how these three people ebbed and flowed around each other, like water in a tidal pool. As individuals, they had great energy—yet they still merged well. More than amazed, he suddenly realized jealousy reared its ugly head. He wanted what his friends had.
Why can’t I get through to one half-Hawaiian woman whom I want so
bad, my soul aches?

Lorelei rested her elbow on the table, her chin propped up in her hand. “So, are you going to ask her?”

All three men swung around.

Lucian found his voice first. “Is who going to ask whom to do what, exactly?”

She pointed at Mac. “Is he going to ask Keko to move in with him?”

Mac forgot what he was doing with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth.

Lorelei reached over, took his mug, set it safely on the table. “Are you going to continue to mope like a love-struck kid, or are you going just come out and ask the girl?”

From the look on Lorelei’s face, Mac knew better than to deny it. He’d been caught out, fair and square. “Damn. Is it that obvious?”

“Been there, done that.” Lucian pulled out another chair and settled, so he didn’t disturb his mate. He’d been enamored of Lorelei from the first moment he saw her—

and she’d been unconscious.

Mac rested his head in his hands. “Man, I don’t know if I can take another beating.”

Adam usually avoided such discussions, but must have felt the need to say something. “She isn’t Caroline. That ship sailed.”

Lorelei perked up. “Caroline? Who the hell is Caroline? What did I miss?”

“Let’s not go into this, all right?” Mac retrieved his mug, took a long pull. He didn’t notice if the coffee was hot or not.

Lucian wasn’t about to cooperate. “His fiancée.”

At Mac’s harsh glare, he amended the comment. “All right, his ex-fiancée.”

“Wow, how did I miss that?”

“It was years ago. Many years ago. Before your time.”

“And—?” Lorelei’s eyebrow cocked.

Mac gave a defeated sigh. “You’re not gonna to let this rest, are you?”

“Not hardly. Out with it.”

Lucian grinned. “Mac, old buddy, you might as well get the thing over with.

Trust me. She doesn’t give up until she roots around like a truffle pig and unearths all the gory details.”

Adam grunted his assent.

Lorelei made herself comfy, wrapped her hands around her tea. “Lucian, baby, later we’ll discuss exactly why your thought processes associated me with a truffle hog, but I’ll let it go for now.”

Lucian reached over, took her hand, kissed her fingertips. “Good truffle hogs are prized in Europe.”

Lorelei retrieved her hand. ”
Uh huh
, I see. Prized in Europe. Mac, this hasn’t gotten you off the hook. Spill.”

“Nothing much to tell. Caroline, my fiancée, bailed on me before the wedding.”

“How long before?”

Mac couldn’t prevent the curse that escaped.

Lucian kicked in. “Bubba, you might as well spill it now, or she’ll hound you until she squeezes every last little detail out of your hide. Trust me. We saw her in action at Mama’s. She held her own in a houseful of Southern women. Our sweet baby took no prisoners, showed no mercy.”

Mac glanced at Adam, who nodded. “It got ugly.”

“Damn.” He took another swig of his coffee. “I was stationed at the Naval Amphibian Base in Coronado, had already extended my enlistment. Caroline and I had been seeing each other on and off for about a year, any time I reached land between deployments. We seemed solid. She said she was okay with the SEAL thing. I finally asked her to marry me.

“I’m thinkin’ a simple on-base ceremony with a Navy chaplain and a couple of witnesses. No, that wasn’t good enough. Nothing would do for Caroline and her folks except a huge, white dress wedding. They seemed like they could afford it, so I finally caved, went along for the ride.

“I’d brought Caroline home to meet my family—my mother, father, three brothers. I thought it was odd that they didn’t seem to warm up to her, especially our mom, but no one interfered. Whatever I decided to do was okay with them, as long as I was happy.” He stopped, glanced at Lorelei for a reprieve. It didn’t happen.

“I had no idea what was involved to bring off a big deal wedding. Our group stayed at a ritzy hotel for nearly a damned week to get through all the wedding nonsense. It was the day before the ceremony. The booze had been flowing freely, so Caroline had been fairly sozzled before and during dinner. After dinner, I thought she’d disappeared to take a nap before the evening’s festivities. I wanted to ask her something. To this day, I can’t remember what was so bloody damned important. There was a communicating door between our rooms. And, well … .”

He stopped again. “I walked in on my fiancée. And my brother. In bed. Naked.”

The guys knew the story. Lorelei sat back, finally stunned into silence.

“There was the obligatory ‘it’s not what it looks like’ bullshit. Rather than pound anyone into pulp, I left the hotel, walked along the beach until the sun came up. When I got back, Caroline and her parents were gone, along with her very expensive engagement ring and all the wedding gifts. So was my brother.” He cleared his throat.