Page 35 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

"Not enough," she whispered tearfully. "Not enough for either of us, Clint."

She pulled free of him before jumping out of the truck and running up the cement steps to the front yard. Now was as good a time as any to say good-bye.

Chapter 9

CLINT HUNG HIS HEAD, HIS jaw clenched, his head pounding with a need that wracked his body. And he was sitting here in this damned truck letting her run away, letting her give up on him. Hell, he had never let her give up, he realized. He had pushed her away with one hand, pulled her back with the other, and tortured them both with the arousal she fired in his blood.

No one could affect him like Morganna, and she terrified him because of it. Terrified him because he had always known that something wild and free beat inside her. She needed a man who could stand at her side, not one who would stand in front of her.

And Clint needed to stand in front of her. He needed to protect her, to shield her. The thought of losing her forever ... God, it was killing him.

He groaned, a low, torn sound that shocked him. She was giving up on him. He had heard it in her voice, and that affected him more than he would have ever guessed. Affected him, hell. He couldn't do it.

Clint jerked open the door and moved from the truck, striding quickly up the cement steps to the house. He was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. He was about to take a chance on destroying both of them, and he knew it.

The front door was open, but no lights were on. As Clint made it to the porch, every instinct he had ever honed in the SEALs went on full alert.

He heard Morganna's short cry, the sound of something breaking, and fear tore through him. He rushed into the house, his gaze quickly finding her. For a moment, one blinding second in time, Clint knew he had lost her forever.

The dim light seemed to glow around the two figures. The tall, masked form behind her. A leather fist was clenched in her hair, jerking her head back as the other hand lifted, the blade of a wicked knife gleaming in the darkness as Clint rushed for them.

His mind was processing as he rushed for her. The determination in her face, the lack of fear as her arm came up, bent, her elbow slamming into her attacker's solar plexus as she gripped his wrist and twisted with both hands.

Clint managed to grip her arm, jerking her back and throwing himself a| her attacker. The sound of a knife clattering on the floor was followed by a heavy male curse as Clint rushed him.

Rage transformed itself, fury and fear; the sight of Morganna within inches of death sent a flash of red before Clint's vision.

Before he could slam his body into the assailant's, before his fists could connect or the bloodletting rage could find an outlet, the dark form threw itself through the window behind him.

The crash of glass and the splintering wail of the home security system shrieked in Clint's head as he jumped through the window frame, landing on the ground in a crouch as gunfire splattered around him.

"You son of a bitch," he snarled as he threw himself to the side, staying low and rushing to the front of the house.

"Gun." Morganna was waiting at the doorway, pushing the .45 into his hands.

"Let's go."

He had to get her out of there. If the intruder was an assassin, he'd definitely have backup. Clint grabbed her arm as he balanced the weapon in his hand and pulled her from the house.

"Stay low." Clint pulled Morganna close to his side as he moved at a run for the truck, rushing to get her out of the line of any fire.

Lights were filling the homes around Morganna's now, and he knew the police would be on their way soon. Jerking the driver's side door open, he pushed her inside before following.

"Get down." He pushed her down in the seat as he twisted the key in the ignition and pushed the gas to the floor.

The truck peeled out of its parking spot, followed by the ping of bullets against the side.

"I'll twist his guts if I find him," Clint growled at the damage to his truck. "Damn bastard. It's a new truck."

He twisted the wheel as he turned the corner, accelerating down the street and heading for the interstate.

Morganna hadn't said a word.

Clint glanced over at her, seeing her wide eyes, her pale face, as she curled up on the seat, her head lying next to his thigh.

"Are you okay, baby?" One hand shot from the wheel, running down her arm, her stomach, her hip. "Did he cut you anywhere?"

Clint leaned over her, checking her for injuries as he raced away from the residential streets. The fear that flooded him at the thought of her wounded, bleeding, cramped his guts in horror.

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