Gray staggered into the tree line and stopped to lean against a tree to catch his breath.  Mickie collapsed at his feet, drew up her knees to her chest and rested her head on them to do the same.  Other than sweating profusely, her brother appeared to be totally unaffected by their mad dash for the trees, through sand and rocks.

“We can’t stay here long,” Dante said, walking to the edge of the trees where he squatted to peer back at the beach.   “They just did a hot drop and two men are walking toward the house.  That probably means they didn’t see us, but we need to get deeper into the preserve.”

“Well once I can walk without collapsing, I’ll do just that,” Gray said, as anger at the bossy bastard pushed past his exhaustion.

Dante laughed and looked back at him.  “You need to work on that stamina, Mr. Big Dill.  My sister can out-run you.  What, exactly, does she see in you?”

“Stop fucking calling me that!” Grayson growled, pushing off of the tree.

“Well when you wear it on your chest, that means you own it, cazzone,” Dante replied with a cocky, condescending grin.

“I see a man who has kept me alive for two weeks and who is putting himself at risk to help me stay that way,” Mickie said, jumping to her feet as she leapt to his defense.  “You should be thankful like I am, Dante, not an asshole.”  Something warm broke loose in Gray’s chest to soothe his temper.

“Is that what you were doing when I walked in? Thanking him?” Dante asked with a snort.

Mickie emitted that growl which forewarned she was about to snap, the same one she emitted before she hit him with her purse.  In a blur of motion, she shot forward to push her brother hard and he staggered back.  He grabbed her arms and turned his body to shield his groin, which said he evidently had plenty experience with her tactics.

“Grrrr—” she grumbled, twisting and turning to break his hold. “You can leave, if you’re going to act like this, Dante. I don’t want your help!”

“Well, you’ve got it, whether you want it or not. I made a choice that could get me killed or in jail, at the very least jobless, but I couldn’t let you fight this alone.  And now, I can’t change my mind.” The starch left Michaela’s spine as Dante pulled her to him for a quick hug.

Although, in all honesty, Gray appreciated the help, he couldn’t help resent the fact that this guy thought he was the only one capable of protecting her.  She was right—he had kept her alive for two weeks—and all without the help of her arrogant brother. Go figure.

Gray made a decision right then.  If he wound up dead from a heart attack by the time they got to the other side of the preserve, or if his feet were two bloody stumps when he got there, since he didn’t have shoes on, he would not stop.   He’d show this testosterone-laden Italian stallion that he had just as much stamina as he had. 

Gray just wished like hell he had stopped to grab his laptop, like Mickie had her purse, before they took off running. There was entirely too much information on that computer for it to fall into the wrong hands. Thank goodness Dexter had insisted on installing a destruction mechanism to wipe the hard drive clean if the password was tried and failed too many times.

The problem with that was, all of his information he’d gathered on Mickie’s case would be wiped out too.  So, when he could put his hands on another laptop, he’d have to start all over again. That would be even more of a reason for her brother to think he was incompetent.

Why in the hell do you care what this buster thinks about you? 

He didn’t, but he did. Other than his incompetence when Mona sent him to the front lines of the drug war in Arizona when he got too nosy, Gray had never felt or been incompetent in his life.  That reminded him he needed to call Derek, but first he needed to call Hawk to get them the hell out of here.

Pulling out his phone, Gray speed-dialed Hawk and then handed the phone to Dante to give him instructions.  It was a quick call, so evidently Hawkins understood the foreign language he spoke.

“We’re meeting him on the beach at the other side of the woods at dusk, so we need to pop smoke. It’s about ten clicks west, and I need time to clear an LZ for him,” Dante informed, as he handed Gray his phone.

“I’m not one of your military buddies, so speak English, would you?” 

Mickie hadn’t told him her brother was former military.  She didn’t have to, just like she didn’t have to tell him he was Mafioso.  Gray had dealt with both types of men too long, not to recognize one when he saw one. This guy scared him a little, though, because he was both—a deadly combination.

“We need to go now, Nancy, because we have six miles to walk and I need time to clear and mark a landing zone for your pilot to pick us up.”  Dante slung his rifle to his back and turned to the west.  Gray slid his rifle to his back too, then took Mickie’s hand.

“Why in the hell didn’t you just say that?” Gray grumbled as he followed.  His first step was on a pine cone which sent a needle of pain zipping up his leg.  Bloody stumps for sure. Gray trudged on with Mickie beside him, but watched where he walked.

Because of his care to avoid more pine cones, Gray and Mickie arrived at the “LZ” a good half-click behind Dante Girabaldi, who didn’t even notice.  When they got to the edge of the trees on the other side of the preserve, Gray saw him darting in and out of the trees to gather limbs.  He pulled Mickie down beside him to sit against a tree.   If the man needed their help, he could ask for it, but it looked like he was a one-man band. 

Gray wondered how that worked out for him in the military.  His guess would be not very well.  The former military men he worked with could act independently, but they usually didn’t. They were a team, and always had each other’s backs.

“I’m scared,” Mickie said, her voice trembling as she took his arm and scooted closer to his side.  “Usually nothing scares me, but I’m terrified right now.”  Gray looked down into her eyes, and her words were seconded there.  The need to make her fear disappear was great.

Don’t do it.  But he did.

Laying his rifle down beside him, Gray pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her.  With a sigh, and a shudder, she snuggled her face into his neck, and his heart tweaked.  She smelled like salt water, pepper spray, and sunshine.  Nothing had ever smelled better, or felt better than holding her, having her depend on him…having her trust him.

She lifted her chin and there was a silent plea in her eyes that he couldn’t ignore.  Her lips fell apart, and a soft sigh escaped when his head gravitated toward hers.  Their lips met for the first time with no anger, no hurry, just a need to comfort…and what?

Gray didn’t care, as a deep sense of rightness, of soothing to his own soul spread through him.  After several slow, delicious passes to absorb her taste, he sealed his mouth to hers and she whimpered as her hand slid up to cup his neck.  He loved how she pulled him to her when she kissed him.  Like she wanted to make sure he didn’t escape. 

Little did she know he didn’t want to be anywhere other than sitting against this tree, kissing her.  If they weren’t running for their lives, he could be happy sitting here forever, having her kiss him like they’d been apart forever.  She moaned and leaned into the kiss as her fingers curled into his skin.  If they hadn’t been interrupted, if life and her brother had just given them two more hours, he wouldn’t feel so guilty right now for how quickly he’d taken her earlier.

With a sigh, he pulled his mouth from hers.  “I’m sorry for earlier.  I promise next time—” She put her finger over his mouth, then slid it down to replace it with her lips again.

Next time I’ll take it slower, be gentler…and I won’t be angry when I do. 

“The landing zone is prepared, so if you can manage to pry yourselves apart, we need to watch for the helicopter,” Dante grated and Gray’s eyes flew up to meet his angry gaze. With him as her watchdog, it’s a wonder Michaela wasn’t still a virgin.

With a sigh, Gray slid Mickie from his lap and they stood to brush off their pants.  Gray bent down to pick up his rifle.  “Where should I go to watch?”

“Anywhere you can manage to keep your lips off of my sister, so you can make sure she stays alive,” he replied, glaring at Gray.

Michaela walked between them to put her hands on her hips and puffed out her cheeks to blow a breath.  “Back off, Dante.  You’re the one trained to keep us alive.  Just tell us where we should wait.”

“Perché! Why in the hell did I come back to help you?” he hissed, as he shoved a hand through his hair.

“Because you love me, and also because you know Mama would kill you if you let something happen to me that you could’ve stopped,” she replied, and Gray bit back a laugh at Dante’s growl.  At that minute, Gray loved her too, for standing her ground, but he could also commiserate with her brother’s frustration.

He heard, rather than saw, a helicopter in the distance and walked toward the edge of the trees.  Peering up at the sky, all he saw was a black dot headed toward the beach.  He hoped that materialized into the Deep Six helicopter and not the one flown by the feds.  When it got closer he saw the insignia, then Hawk lined up with the marks that Dante had set up on the beach.  Only then did Gray finally relax.

“It’s a hot pickup, c’mon. Keep your head low unless you want a haircut.” He looked at Gray.  “That was for Michaela—you stand tall, because right now I wouldn’t mind if your head went.” Dante sniggered as he ran to the edge of the trees, looked up and down the beach then shot out into the clearing when the skids touched the sand. 

Gray grabbed Michaela’s hand and ran behind him, squinting and coughing as he pushed through the rotor-created sandstorm.