Strategic Engagement

No way could he let her fly out of the apartment like this. He struggled to make sense of her words, a hard-as-hell proposition with her writhing under him. The glide of her body against his numbed his brain while heating other parts of him.



She clipped him on the chin.



All right, then. Passion tempered. He grabbed her flailing fists, manacled them with his hands over her head. "You need to rein it in, Mary Elise."



"Get off me, you son of a bitch, and I'll be just fine."



She glared up at him, her green eyes sparking with a mix of fury and a desperation that knocked him harder than her punch. She wasn't fighting him but some demon he couldn't combat until she let him in.



God, he never, never wanted to frighten her. As much as he knew of the old Mary Elise, he was beginning to realize he would need new instincts in dealing with this wary woman.



He gentled his grip. "Southern boys get particularly pissed when you talk bad about their mamas. Now hush up and listen for a minute." He trailed a finger down to loosen a strand of hair clinging to her full bottom lip. "You know I would never hurt you."



She stilled under his touch, br**sts pressed to his chest, legs twined. Back and forth, he traced the pad of his thumb over the giving softness of her mouth, felt the steamy rushes of breath gust over his skin.



Into him.



Her eyes darkened to that deep green of late summer grass. Oh, yeah, he remembered the shade well, felt the hitch in her breath that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with wanting.



Adrenaline-fueled desire. Logical explanation. Not that logic would stop him from—



Her face rose to meet him as he angled down. Mouth to mouth, open, ready, hungry. More adrenaline and heat and too long not touching sent his hands into the pooling mass of her hair.



He needed to hold her again and kiss her senseless and find out if being inside her was as un-freaking-believable as he remembered before she hauled ass out of his life. Not that she seemed pointed toward that door at the moment.



She was damned near tearing his flight suit off. Her fingers yanked at his zipper, crawled inside to stroke his shoulders. Sweeping the warm recesses of her mouth with his tongue, he tasted Mary Elise, wondered if the honeysuckle sensation was taste or scent but couldn't tell with her jumbling all his senses.



Daniel struggled for reason. He couldn't let this spin out of control, as much as he might want to roll her to the floor and lose himself inside her with a deep rightness he hadn't felt since … her. He needed to get his head on straight. Two boys waited down the hall, and regardless of what she said, the cops would have to be called. They would have to face her past.



Together, dam it.



He let her soft touch seep into his anger, even feed the protective urges. Whatever it took to keep her safe, he embraced it.



Daniel pulled away, let his gaze land on her, immobilizing her with only his will. "You're not going anywhere without me."



The cloudy passion in her eyes dissipated. "Danny—"



"How closely did you look at that bottle?"



Her head angled to the side, toward the coffee table where the bottle rested. Her hand inched closer to graze the numbers handwritten across the label.



He forced himself to say the words, even knowing they would scare the hell out of her.



Whatever it took to keep her safe.



"You can talk about walking away to protect me all day long, but McRae has already made the choice for you." Daniel pointed to the penciled scrawl across the label on the medicine bottle. "My social security number. He's not just after you anymore."



Time passed in a haze.



Standing by the queen-size bed, Mary Elise sorted through the laundry basket, folding the boys' clothes into a suitcase, her body on autopilot. Beside her, Daniel jammed gear into a big green bag—a webbed vest, canteens, knife.A gun.



His stark announcement about his social security number on the bottle still thundered through her head. She'd brought Kent's wrath to Daniel.



She would never be able to forgive herself.



Danny had insisted on calling the cops and filing the official complaint. Prints had been lifted. A restraining order requested. She'd been this route before.



At least the boys would be protected, safely hidden away with Darcy and Max until the threat passed. The engaged couple had already planned to spend Thanksgiving with Darcy's sister stationed at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in Goldsboro, North Carolina. The boys would be ensconced in a family full of service members and an OSI special agent. She would stay alone with Daniel in a secluded fishing cabin Max kept for his "cave time" as Darcy called it.



Totally alone. Gulp.



Daniel had calmly explained this would give him and Max time to track information through CIA and OSI internet files. The remote locale would also keep the threat away from others if Kent found them.



Mary Elise willed her hands to keep folding little boy boxers and pairing up socks. Darcy and Max would finish their own accelerated packing soon. It still boggled her mind that Daniel could ask this of them and that they wouldn't even hesitate to help. The level of friendship went beyond anything she could fathom.



Made her question the depth of her friendship with Danny.



She tunneled a hand into the basket and came up with … one of Daniel's shirts. Hard Rock Café: Bangkok.



Once they'd shared so much, and now there were countless unshared memories and experiences between them. She smoothed a hand over the logo, then tugged the shirt inside out for Danny before folding it.



They had been close, damn it. She'd only turned to his father because she'd known Franklin wouldn't ask too many questions.



Or had she secretly been hoping Franklin would notify Danny? A disturbing notion that left her swaying on her feet.



"Would you quit before you fall over?" Daniel palmed her waist, stirring embers barely banked after their kiss earlier.



The two of them would be alone together soon. No more secrets. Well, not many. Already she could feel the inevitable draw they hadn't been able to resist eleven years ago.



She didn't want this. Especially not now.



Mary Elise ducked from under the temptation of his broad palm. "It's only a little laundry. Do you really want to subject Darcy and Max to the sonic shriek that will come if you forget Austin's blanket?"



Daniel jammed a pen and paper in her hands. "Make a list. You're great at details. There's plenty of crap Darcy and Max don't know about the kids that you didn't need to include on my lists."



What? He didn't think she could even handle climbing Mount Washmore? Being relegated to nonactive roles stung on a day where she'd taken a few too many hits. "I've already written everything out."



His hands landed on her shoulders, urging her to sit on the bed. "Do you have any freaking idea how pale you are?"



Yes, she did. The mirror didn't lie as well as she could. "It's been a helluva day. Maybe I'm a little shaky, but then, who wouldn't be?"



Slowly he shook his head. "What the hell else aren't you telling me? Why would your ex leave a medicine bottle in your bag? And you'd better come clean now because I don't want any more surprises knocking me on my ass for at least another twenty-four hours, if you don't mind."



Two fingers slid from her shoulders up to the bare skin of her neck. "No lies."



Mary Elise swallowed her anger. The last thing they needed was more sparks. She stared into his smoky-brown eyes and found plenty of anger … and concern. The guy genuinely thought there might be something wrong with her.



She'd pushed him far enough.



"I mean it when I say I'm fine, Daniel. I told you already that the bottle was linked to fertility drugs. I just have a … condition … called endometriosis. A chick thing, and you really don't need to hear all the details. I hadn't planned on this trip back to the States, and my meds are still in Rubistan. But it's not like I'm terminal. Women lived with this for centuries without any more medical help than herbs and a warmed brick."



"Well you look like hell."



Just what a girl wanted to hear from an old lover who was even hotter eleven years later. "I get a little achy." Understatement of the year, but hopefully she'd kept her pulse steady enough. "I'm a tad anemic, too, which is why I seem run-down to you. And thank you very much for letting me know I'm a hag. That makes me feel much better."



"Nice try with the diversion. Not working. Although later I'm going to want to hear what the hell the brick was for." He tapped her nose. "You know you're beautiful, so don't fish for compliments. Do you need a specialist or can any doctor take care of this?"



Beautiful?



"Mary Elise? I want an answer."



Oh. Yeah. She shook off silly vanity.



She had a specialist, but… "This can wait until we have everything settled."



His stubborn chin jutted. "A specialist or a regular doctor."



"A regular doctor can handle this, but Danny—"



"Fine." He wrenched the zipper on the green military-issue bag closed, then slid a laptop computer off the dresser to rest beside the suitcases. "We have to swing through base, anyway, to mask our tracks and make sure no one sees us trading the boys off to Wren and Spike. We'll check in with Kathleen while we're there. Now that I think about it, Bronco's TDY—temporary duty—to McChord for two weeks. We can swap out my truck for his SUV when we leave base. I can clear a tail even if McRae's got help, but changing cars wouldn't hurt."



Damn it, she understood he had more expertise in these things, but she wouldn't be relegated to a sick bed with her pen and paper. She could pitch in with something besides lists.



She respected that Danny was loading his gun and packing for the worst, but he didn't realize Kent would never fight the kind of head-to-head battle that Danny must excel at. "Do I get any say here?"



"No."



Frustration swelled. Built. She owed him, but why did he have to be so damned stubborn with the whole his-way-no-matter-what attitude?



The doorbell pealed once, twice.



Daniel backed one step at a time. "You won't be any help to me if you pass out."



He spun away on his boot heel.



Great. He got to be bossy and right. As if the hag comment wasn't bad enough, damn his cute departing ass in a wrinkled flight suit, he had to go Cro-Magnon on her.



She should be thanking him for fixing her mess of a life, not cursing him. Except rogue thoughts of the future kept teasing her with how much these boys would need a mother's softening influence long-term so their knuckles wouldn't drag the ground on occasion, as well.



Compressing the stack of clothes, Mary Elise tucked Trey's nebulizer, an extra inhaler and the rest of his asthma meds on top, and zipped the suitcase closed.



"Boys?" She crossed the hall and opened the door to find both children perched on the bottom bunk with Game Boys in hand. They'd been told about the change in plans, but with so much to assimilate in the past week, she wasn't sure they fully understood.



Hell, she still didn't understand everything.



She held out her arms. Flinging aside the video game, Austin launched toward her and hopped up. He clung to her, spindly arms and chubby cheek pressed against her neck while Trey's thumbs flew over the handheld video.



Voices drifted from the living room, Darcy and Max with Daniel. Austin's hold tightened. Tears burned her eyes. Oh, God, she couldn't lose it in front of the kids.



"Don't wanna go wif' Wren and Spike." Austin's muffled voice rang with the steely resolve of a temper tantrum on the rise.



Guilt jabbed her like the unrelenting stab of endless needles.



She pushed back her tears and straightened his Winnie the Pooh shirt. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's just for a little while. You'll have fun playing with all of Darcy's family."