Page 42 of Heart of Danger
The emotions fed on each other. Each person had a history, a highly emotional past, not always pleasant. They were happy to be here in this specific time and place but there was an outside world pressing in, threatening…
The threat felt like ropes around her chest, dark and burning. There was love here but no safety except the safety provided by the three men in command. Catherine perceived the underlying fear and the threats and yet in Mac’s embrace, the part of her touching him was free of fear, while the part of her being touched by others was absorbing it, she was a sponge soaking up the dark tides rising, rising…
And the world went black.
* * *
Fuck.
Catherine went limp in his arms. Mac gathered her up and turned to everyone who’d been crowding her. He knew his community was celebrating and not just the birth of the little girl.
Named Mac. Jeez. What the fuck was that about? You couldn’t call a little baby girl Mac. He’d have to talk to Bridget and Red about that.
In the meantime, he had an unconscious woman in his arms.
“Okay gang, listen up!”
Mac had a deep voice and he knew how to put command in it. In two seconds there was utter quiet in the room. Everyone had stepped back and were now recognizing that Catherine was unconscious.
“I know you’re all happy about the birth of Mac.” He had a straight line of sight to Bridget cradling the baby, Red by her side. “And you two—you’re gonna have to rethink that name.” He put a hard stern note in his voice but Bridget just smiled at him sleepily. “And I know you are all grateful to Catherine for her help. But I think we’ve overwhelmed her.”
Yeah. Nearly freezing to death in a snowstorm, interrogated by professional soldiers who’d been subjected to SERE training, watching her home being trashed by thugs, delivering a baby…yeah, that would try anyone, let alone some as fragile-looking as Catherine Young.
He turned with Catherine in his arms and stopped when Stella put a hand on his arm. She was frowning with concern, accentuating the scars left by the knife slashes. “Take her to your quarters, she’ll be more comfortable. I’ll send some tea in.”
He nodded and walked out.
He had spacious quarters—a large apartment really—two floors down. He stood for a second outside his door. The lock was biomorphological, set to recognize his body shape, together with the shape of Nick and Jon. It didn’t recognize his shape with Catherine in his arms so he had to enter in a code in the alphanumeric keypad hidden in the wall.
Mac had to suppress the shocking thought that he’d better reset the biomorphological lock because it wouldn’t be the last time he’d have Catherine Young in his arms.
Where did that thought come from?
From the fact that she felt damned good.
Mac walked into his quarters and moved into his bedroom. Bending, he pulled back the covers and lay her down.
He missed that warm, slight weight in his arms immediately. For minutes, he hovered over her, still touching her, unwilling to let her go completely.
New terrain.
Mac’s body did what he told it to do, no more, no less. The idea that he’d hover over a woman because his arms simply didn’t want to obey him shocked him as much as the boner in his pants.
Christ.
Get a grip.
It took every ounce of self-discipline he had to straighten up and let her go and that scared him.
Her eyes half-opened when he unzipped her boots and removed them.
“Wha—” she whispered. Her eyes were such a brilliant gray he was almost glad they were half-closed. They were mesmerizing. It was always hard to look away from her.
Her head moved weakly. “Where am I? What happened?”
You fainted dead awaydidn’t feel right. “You’re a little tired. You delivered a baby.“ She looked so lost in his huge bed, he picked up her hand. “Rest now,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You’re safe now. Don’t worry about anything. I’m here.”
Man, how could he expect her to feel safe when last night he was interrogating her, fully armed, suspecting her of being a government spy? What a fucking stupid thing to say to her.
