Strategic Engagement

But marriage. Kid. Love. That had him cricking his tense neck to the side.



Four days. He kicked through the clear waters, deeper, until there was nowhere left to go, and still he could hear her declaration of love echo in his ears. Same words he'd heard his parents say to each other.



Damned if he'd seen any example of love lasting.



He preferred what he and Mary Elise had and he didn't want to screw it up. Crap. He was acting like a whiny kid rather than an adult. Get it together, Baker.



Daniel kicked upward, snagging Mary Elise and drawing them both to the surface. "Gotcha."



"What do you plan to do with me, Danny?"



"This." He drew her closer, brushed her bikini-clad br**sts against his bare chest, eliciting a rewarding purr. He cupped a breast—fuller, more sensitive. The pregnancy thing had definite side benefits, like the visit from the oh-so-generous Breast Fairy.



"Danny," Mary Elise panted against his mouth.



"Pool house, or take a drive and park. Your choice, but make the decision fast. "He prayed for the pool house. Closer. Sooner.



She stiffened against him. "Danny, I'm not feeling too good. Something's wrong…"



Daniel struggled to pull himself awake. Awake? But he was in the pool with Mary Elise.



Reality and dreams mussed. He wanted out of the pool or the dream or wherever the hell he was before the rest of the events unfolded: Mary Elise wrapping an arm around her stomach, a drive in the car that hadn't led to parking but instead to the emergency room.



He forced his feet to keep treading water as if that could stave off the end, keep them both from moving to the end of everything. Their baby. Them.



Water churned around them, someone else in the pool, beneath, drawing near Mary Elise to take her, blasting to the surface…



Kent McRae.



Daniel bolted upright on the sofa.



Dragging a hand over his face, he shook off the nightmare fog.



Mary Elise sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, hands in her lap, emerald eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?"



He nodded, throat still too tight for talk. Swinging his boots to the floor with a thud, he braced his elbows on his knees and sucked in air, steadied his heartbeat. He kept his hands clasped between his knees rather than gathering Mary Elise hard against his chest to feel her warm and alive against him. "I'm fine."



"Bad dreams suck."



Leave it to Mary Elise not to let him dodge the issue by pretending. "Yep."



"You've had a lot on your plate lately, too, not just the boys, but losing your father, not even being able to make the memorial service for closure."



Death wasn't high on his list of topics for discussion, the word riding too hard on the heels of a time he'd thought Mary Elise might die. The doctor may have called it a routine, first trimester miscarriage. But the doctor hadn't been the one carrying her across the yard to the car while she cried in pain.



Daniel stared at his clenched hands and remembered the weight of Mary Elise in his arms. His father had met him at the emergency room, silent but there. Odd how he'd forgotten that part over the years. "I'll always regret that he and I didn't have a chance to talk."



"Life can change so fast. And when I think of how close I came to being in the car with him that day…"



Daniel's mind raced back to the present. "What?"



"I was supposed to be with your father the day he died. I had a doctor visit in town, but had to cancel it at the last minute because of an emergency teacher's meeting. Your father decided to take his wife along instead, make a day of it and see if they could start working though their problems."



Her words nailed him like relentless mortar rounds. How she should have been in the car. McRae's money transfer to Rubistan shortly before. Daniel blanked his face and prayed she wouldn't draw inferences. He should have known better.



All too soon, dawning horror stained her face. "You don't think? Kent couldn't have been responsible. Could he? Oh, God, Danny, please don't let me have caused your father's death."



Think before opening the yap, Baker.



He forced his mind to work, remember that she needed to be a part of whatever happened. A tough-as-hell thing to do when his instincts blared for him to lock her in the bathroom and barricade her there while he stood between her and the rest of the world.



"Stop looking for trouble, Mary Elise. Ammar makes the more likely suspect if my father's death wasn't an accident. Killing my father would give Ammar control over the widow, the boys and all their inherited money." His conscience kicked him, reminded him of Mary Elise's insistence on no more passive roles. Damn it, he just wanted to keep her safe. His conscience gave him another hefty punt. "But it's possible he could have been working with McRae."



"How so?"



"McRae has been funneling money into the Middle East underworld. The FBI has already been alerted."



"Terrorism?"



"That. And Rubistan is one of the largest suppliers of opium. There are any number of likelihoods. But yes. I think McRae tracked you. And I think it's possible he and Ammar hooked up." Daniel paused, ready to pull her close if she fell apart, wondered if he was a sick bastard for wanting the excuse to hold her.



Mary Elise blinked once, tears glinting but not falling, then nodded for him to continue.



"Regardless, I think Ammar was gunning for my father."



"And Kent would have found help even without Ammar."



"Exactly."



The glaze of tears disappeared, replaced by a different glint altogether. Suspicion. "When did you find out about the overseas transactions?"



Damn. "Yesterday."



"Last night?"



Baker, you are so busted. "Yesterday morning."



Silently she stood, walked away from him, made a freaking production out of straightening a stack of papers by the computers.



"Go ahead and say it, 'Lise."



"Obviously, I don't need to." The papers slid from her hands in a scattered mess, making lie of her seeming calm.



Not unlike the mess he was making of this conversation. "You'll feel better if you chew me out."



A dry smile twitched as she collected the pages. "I doubt it."



Talk, damn it. Shout. Care enough to fight back so he would have a clue what she was thinking. Then he could plan a counter-defense. Strategize so they wouldn't self-destruct their relationship this time.



He shot to his feet. His boots traced a restless path on the hardwood floor, across the brown braid rug, back and forth in front of the stone fireplace. He needed action. Decisions. All the waiting and inaction left him with too much time to think about the past.



Flashes of his nightmare had him ready to snap like one of those trip wires strung under the cabin. Watching her distance herself from him didn't help. He needed reassurance she wouldn't bolt, not a helluva lot to ask.



Damn it, he wanted to lock her up tight beside him so he wouldn't have to worry about her day and night. "We should probably try to find something in the same school district so the boys aren't uprooted again."



"What?" She tucked the papers in her suitcase.



He paced over to the computers, checked again, found the same uninhabited security picture of sunrise filtering over the deserted beach. Nothing but a pelican and some egrets hunting for breakfast. Alarms stayed silent.



Action. Even a simple e-mail from Max would give him something to do. He would settle for anything that would make him shut up before his rambling mouth pushed her away for good. "A house on the water is out of my price range, but then with Austin around, it wouldn't really be safe or practical long-term, anyway. Buying an older home, we can get more space, but then I don't want you to be stuck dealing with the extra repairs when I'm TDY."



"Daniel."



"Yeah, 'Lise?"



"Slow down." Her hand fell to his arm.



"Oh, yeah, right." He dropped onto a bar stool, his booted foot twitched on the lowest rung. Tap. Tap.



"I didn't mean your pacing."



"Oh." He frowned. What the hell had he been saying anyway? Something about house hunting, an attempt at making something happen to relieve the stretched-taut inaction when what he really wanted was to nail McRae to the wall.



And to make Mary Elise stay. Houses. Duh. His subconscious was having a field day with him. Way to steam-roll the woman. "Hang on a second. I think I know what I'm supposed to say here. Uh, what kind of house do you want?"



She perched on the other stool beside him, her hands gliding up his thighs in an obvious attempt to distract him. "Danny, this isn't the time to take such a big step with life decisions."



"Why the hell not?" His frustrations swelled to the surface, inconvenient as hell when he knew calm would work better. But his feelings for Mary Elise were anything but placid. "Is it my job? I know the gun safe and the traps freaked you out. Damn, Mary Elise, I realize I'm not offering you much of a deal here, but I'll do my best to make it work for you. I can even back off the secret stuff, stick with more straightforward missions."



He trailed his fingers down a strand of her auburn hair as if he could bind her to him, pull her slim body to him and give her something to do with their mouths so she would quit worrying her rings in circles around her fingers.



"It's not your job. God, I know it's a part of you." She stroked up to his chest, tracing his collar, dipping inside to hook in his dog tags, tug him forward. "And if this past year has taught me anything, I know that life is dangerous no matter what you do. We should live to the fullest."



"Exactly." He manacled her wrist in his grip. "I understand that logic and facts indicate I'm not the best bet for the long haul, but determination can't be gauged, and damn it, I'm hell-bent set on making this work. So why are you holding back from me again?"



Her hand fell to her lap. "Why is it that if someone doesn't go along with your way, then they're holding back?"



Echoes of other arguments pummeled him, nose-to-nose battles with his father, defensive confrontations with the squadron commander. But, damn it, those had been different situations. "Do you love me?"



Where the hell had that come from? His dream.



"Yes."



Say it back, dumb ass. "Then what exactly did I offer up that was so hell-fire terrible? A house?" He fished in his sleeve pocket and pulled out the solitaire. "Or God forbid I should give you a ring."



He held it with two fingers, a silent question between them. Say it back, Baker. His mouth stayed closed.



She folded her hands over his, held his hands in hers without taking the ring. At least she wasn't shoving it in his face. Yet.



"Danny, think. I told you I love you. And I know you love me, too, even if you can't push the words out. I hear you, anyway. I only asked for space." She knocked on his forehead. "Hello? Why does it have to be all or nothing, black or white with you?"



"Seems pretty clear cut to me. Yeah, you're right." He said the damn words, ridiculous to hide from them, anyway. "I love you, too. So either you want to marry me or you don't."



The words burned his throat, but they were out there like a big purple polka-dot elephant between them they'd been trying to ignore all morning.



"It's not as simple as a ring and love, or everything would have worked out eleven years ago. Why are you just assuming that if my timetable doesn't fit yours I must not want you at all? Maybe I want to take the next two months and go ice fishing."



"Do you?"



"No. Maybe. I don't know. And that's my whole point. You're pushing too hard, too fast for me right now. I'm not like you, feet-first jumping in. All I'm asking is that we table this discussion, and then take it slow once we get back to it again. Okay?"