Strategic Engagement

Oh, Daniel. Always trying to flipping protect her.

Damn it, she absolutely refused to let Kent anywhere near him. Hatred spiked sarcasm. "As always, Kent, you're too generous."

His smile widened without reaching his eyes. "I do miss your wit. Now, open your present and I'll tell you whether your lover is alive or dead."

A frigid fist closed around her heart. She knew Kent was playing with her like a cat tormenting a mouse. And she wouldn't be a mouse. She would play his game and win.

Keeping one hand steady on the gun, and her eyes glued to him, she worked the paper free of the band around the weight. Thicker paper than she'd originally thought. She raised it and glanced at the last thing she would have expected. Oh, God.

Her fingers clenched around the funeral mass card for her stillborn child.

Cold hatred iced through her, although she wouldn't give Kent the satisfaction of seeing he'd stabbed her clean through. She thought perhaps she could shoot Kent after all. Fighting back for herself wasn't near as easy as fighting for her child.

Maternal instincts swelled further, encompassing Trey and Austin, demanding retribution for the fear this man had brought down upon her boys by working with their uncle. How dare he force Trey and Austin into hiding? Fury clogged her throat.

"It seems only right that you have one, too, since you left everything behind when you ran from me."

She cleared the haze of emotions and adjusted another inch to the left. Move, Kent. Move. "I didn't run from you. I ran to life. Something you could never understand."

Her finger itched on the trigger until logic teased, reminding her if she gunned him down in cold blood she would be no better than him.

That argument almost swayed her. Almost.

Then logic pushed further that she owed it to Trey, Austin, Danny to be a stronger person. As much as she wanted vengeance, her life was inexplicably woven with theirs. And that surrender made her all the stronger.

She took a bold step forward toward the trap, placing her within touching distance of pure evil.

Kent lunged.

An explosion of motion from the trees behind him yanked her vision up.

Danny?

Kent grabbed her wrist, twisted, squeezed. Her gun went flying.

She screamed. Jerked, yet was unable to take her eyes off Danny locked in hand-to-hand battle with a knife-wielding foreigner. Blood stained both of them. From which one?

Bodies shifted, revealing a face she'd hoped never again to see outside of Rubistan.

Ammar.

Daniel gripped both of the man's arms, brought his knee up, Ammar twisting to dodge. The man's heavily accented curse floated on the air. "That McRae bitch should have died in the car, not my sister."

Mary Elise shuddered. "Danny," she whispered.

Daniel appeared to have the upper hand, but—

Kent's hot breath grazed her face. Adrenaline gave her the strength to break free, powered her back away from Kent and in the direction she'd been trying to lead him earlier. She struggled to orient herself, keep from placing her own foot in a spiked trap. She stumbled, fell to the ground, pine straw offering little cushion.

Panting, she crawled, a gnarled root jamming her knee, her ears filled with harsh curses from Ammar and Danny. Thuds, grunts as fists met flesh.

She grappled for her gun. Kent advanced, foot landing hard. Slamming through the earth and into the bucket. His scream of agony halted her. He fell to his knees, one leg trapped.

No time to waste.

Mary Elise searched the ground when more than anything she wanted to look at Daniel and reassure herself he was all right. Rustling through the pine needles, her hand grasped, found, closed around her gun.

She rolled to her back just as Kent whipped his hand from behind him. Gun drawn.

"You bitch."

Death winked in the steady steel barrel.

Heels pushing against dirt, she backed away, her arms outstretched in front of her, 9 mm aimed. "You might as well give up, Kent."

"Already have you running again, don't I? Never could stick with anything. Not even a marriage. Now you've ruined my plans. Bet you don't even have the guts to shoot me."

She wouldn't let him rile her. She kept her eyes trained on him, peripheral vision assuring her Daniel was still on his feet. She couldn't risk shots distracting him.

Let Kent talk. Ignore his words. Daniel would finish Ammar off in seconds. Kent would not win.

Dirt streaked his face, his perfectly groomed facade shot to hell and revealing the monster she knew him to be. "You believe I don't know what you're thinking, Mary Elise, but I do. I know I'm not going to make it. Ammar is no match for your lover there. And if I shoot you, no doubt Baker will kill me. Oddly enough, you inspire that kind of fanaticism in a man. I should know."

His twisted logic for love crawled over her like a lethal rash when she wanted more than ever to live. For Daniel. For the boys. For herself. She wanted life with a ferocity she hadn't expected after so long of simply existing. Daniel had brought her back to life.

Kent adjusted his knee, winced at the shift of his foot against the spikes. "Your leaving hurt me. Did you know that? I loved you and you threw our life together away. If only you'd been more patient, I wouldn't have had to hurt you, too."

The will to live flamed hotter. "Kent, you don't have to do this."

"Oh, but I do." Resolution froze his eyes to an icy blue full of certainty. "And I know the best way to hurt you back." Foot anchored in the bucket, he pivoted.

Toward Daniel.

"No!" The scream echoed in her heart, powering resolve.

She fired.

Kent bucked. Blood bloomed across his chest. Eyes widening with surprise, he fell over backward. His gun skittered from his lifeless hand as he lay, unmoving.

Mary Elise rushed to her feet, ran, toward Daniel, his hands twisted in Ammar's shirt. Daniel hauled back his fist and landed a final, knockout punch.

The boys' uncle crumpled to the ground.

Panting, Daniel barked, "Rope, from the porch."

Blood poured from the jagged tear on his flight suit sleeve, but she couldn't waste time thinking about that now. Mary Elise snagged the coil and pitched it to Daniel, her feet suddenly unsteady.

By the time she worked her way back, he'd finished tying Ammar.

Swaying, Daniel flattened a palm to the ground. Extended the other arm to her. Without hesitation or question, she fell forward, into his embrace.

Home.

Five hours later Daniel hefted his green duffle bag into the back of the SUV. His arm hurt like a son of a bitch from thirty-six freaking stitches, but he'd turned down painkillers.

He wanted a clear head to savor every minute of knowing Mary Elise lived. She had her life back, and damned if he wasn't alive, too.The cops had already cleared the area, taken statements, hauled Ammar to a holding cell. International laws and extradition would make for a lengthy legal process. If Ammar ever saw the light of day again, at least Daniel would have time to formulate a plan for keeping the boys safe—with Mary Elise's help.

Yeah, he needed a clear head so he didn't screw up this second-chance gift with her. Whatever pace she wanted to set, he could handle, because at least they would be together. He was through running.

After all, she'd given him a gift he'd never received, not even from his father. Total acceptance. Mary Elise didn't want to change him or fix him. Damn, the woman was even okay with his job, a rare-as-hell find. All she asked was that he give her the same consideration in return.

However she wanted to take this, he'd follow and hang in for the long haul. She'd said she loved him. He could hold on to that—especially if she let him keep slathering strawberry preserves and anything else he could scavenge out of the cabinets all over her delicious body.

And he was a mighty damned good scavenger.

Daniel closed the hatch, his gaze skating over the top of the SUV out to the shoreline where Mary Elise stood. God, she was a trooper. McRae's parting "gift" to Mary Elise in the form of that funeral mass card would have leveled just about anyone. No question, if anyone deserved to die, McRae fit the bill, but still, taking a life left an irreparable bruise on a person's soul.

But Mary Elise was stronger than she'd known. His pigtailed buddy who'd needed a defender against playground bullies could bloody noses all on her own now.

She would make a helluva life partner.

Partner. A word he was only just beginning to understand, and he looked forward to a lifetime of learning more with Mary Elise's help.

He skirted the bumper, walking toward the shore. Mary Elise knelt, releasing the card into the tide before standing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and watched with her until it disappeared in the surf. Her head fell back against his chest. With that unspoken connection between them in full working order, he could feel her pain easing into a swelling acceptance.

She tipped her head, looked up at him. "I can't have children, Danny."

"I know."

"You're okay with that?"

He could only think of one reason she would ask him that question. Relief nearly drove him to his knees. Exactly where he wanted to be, on his knees proposing, begging this woman to make their love official. Instead he stayed on his feet and let her find her own pace.

After all, he was a smart guy, and more than his own happiness, he wanted hers. "Yes, I'm okay with that."

Her wise eyes held him. "That's all you have to say? Danny, I've had years to think about this, to accept it. It's more complex than just a single sentence."

Maybe to her. Not to him. But if she needed more words, more—he gulped—emotional analysis, he would dig inside himself for the words and feelings to reassure her. He turned her in his arms to face him.

"Straight-up honest, yeah, it hits me right here—" he thumped the area over his heart "—to think we'll never make a baby together, and I imagine you feel the same." He cupped her face with both hands. "But I also know in that exact same place that I'll love any child we adopt as much as any child we might have made."

Her jaw trembled.

Without a wince she'd risked the retaliation of Rubistanian guards to climb in a box with two frightened boys. No crying, she'd stood down Kent McRae, her worst nightmare, for him.

But now, two big fat tears to rival any from Austin pooled, fell over her eyelids and down her cheeks.

He brushed away the tears with his thumbs. "A child shouldn't be just an extension of me or you, or only my chromosomes and yours mixed up together. A child, our child, is a person."

A watery laugh bubbled free. "I do so love your logical mind."

"You do?" He knew but sure wouldn't mind hearing it again.

Her tears evaporated in the warmth of her smile. "Yes. Of course, I've loved you since you slugged Buddy Davis for me in the third grade."

She traced her hand gingerly over his bandage.

"Buddy's punch back then hurt a helluva lot worse than this." He captured her fingers tracing featherlight paths over his arm as if to heal it. He brought her hand to his lips. "I love you, too."

Whimsy lightened somber emerald eyes to spring grass. "More than Hostess Ho-Hos?"

"Oh, damn, that's a tough one."

She slugged his uninjured arm.

Laughing, he pulled her close, inhaled the scent of honeysuckle shampoo and the promise of forever. He held her while the wind encircled them and could have sworn there was something symbolic in the moment. A damned strange thought for a man more comfortable in the mathematical realm.

He held her closer. "You know I'm not a. flowery-words kind of guy. I wish I could tell you how much I love you with the poetry that you deserve. All I can say is that I love you. No measurements. No limits."

Her hands hooked around his neck, she stood in his arms, unmoving while they both watched the fading sunlight stain the sky deeper hues of purple. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">