Page 77 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

"I need a car," he bit out. "I have her hid for now. I'll collect her and bring her back here. You." He pointed his finger fiercely back at the two of them. "Had better have your shit together. Because if anything happens to Morganna, there won't be a hole you can hide in deep enough to save you. Man or woman, I'll kill you."

"He's so fierce." Jayne shivered mockingly. "I bet I could teach Morganna how to tame him, though."

"Tsk, tsk, kitten," Drage murmured. "Let's not tempt an explosion until we're in safer quarters."

Shit, they reminded Clint of Morganna. Was this where she had learned her smart-mouth tendencies or had she taught them to Smith? He didn't doubt she had.

"You can use my car." Smith pulled a set of keys free of the snug pocket of her leather pants and tossed them to him. "It's completely secure and parked in the underground garage I'll be waiting for you at the back door when you return and we'll get her inside safe and sound. Let's do this and do it right, Clint. Then we'll all be safe."

He caught the keys in his free hand as he finally allowed himself to breathe in deeply. He didn't like admitting to the terror that had crawled through his system when he realized how easily Markwell had been taken out. He had been one of the best. A fully trained Navy SEAL warrior with the reflexes and instincts that only sheer talent for the job and hard training could instill. Fuentes wouldn't be easy to take out. If Clint could at least manage to wound his network enough to find that lab, then they could defang him for a while, if nothing else.

"How do we work Merino?" C

lint asked then.

Jayne Smith smiled easily. "We tell him the truth, of course. You aren't comfortable with the attacks on Morganna or the fact that one of your men has been taken out, so you're going to work from here. We'll work with him and see what Fuentes' next move is. In the meantime, I'll have a tag put on each of Joe's men and see what happens. It won't take long."

No, it wouldn't. Fuentes had shown how desperate he was get his hands on Morganna. He would make his move soon. "I'll be back tomorrow night." Clint nodded his head. "I need to sleep a few hours and get a few things together. Do what you have to on this end." Drage straightened from the bar, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"We'll have everything in place, Clint. I look forward to working with you."

Yeah, Clint just bet he did. The son of a bitch didn't count success from the amount of money he made but rather from contacts he could call in. Clint wasn't a man who liked to beholden. But in this case, he was also a desperate man because he knew if anything happened to Morganna, if the fire that burned in her eyes were to ever dim, then Fuentes wouldn't have to kill him. The grief alone would.

Chapter 21

HE DROVE BACK TOWARD Mace's neighborhood in the leather comfort of Jayne's steel blue Z4 BMW Roadster. it wasn't the extravagance of the car, the smell of warm leather, or the ride he would have enjoyed at any other time that filled his head.

He thought of the friends he had lost to Fuentes' damned network. Nathan Malone, "Irish." He had fallen during the mission in Colombia.

His death had been a hard blow. Nathan was a good friend, but with his death Clint had seen what was left behind. Nathan's young wife had been destroyed. Clint remembered seeing her at Nathan's memorial service, her eyes vacant and hollow, her face as pale as death.

She had worshipped Nathan, just as Nathan had worshipped her.

And Devin Markwell. Hell, he was one of the best fighters the SEALs had ever produced. His body was an efficient, highly trained weapon, yet he had been taken out.

It didn't make sense. Fuentes couldn't know who had taken out his compound. That wasn't possible. Even the Navy hadn't listed their names for that mission. Unless Nathan was alive. It was the only answer.

Clint leaned his head against the backrest, feeling weariness drag at him. He was damned tired. Tired of the missions, the deaths. It had begun with Irish's death. Seeing the horror and grief on his young wife's face had started the cycle. Now- God, Clint didn't think he could do it anymore. If they managed to take Fuentes out this time, then it might be time to pack it in. Clint was thirty-five years old and felt eighty. He had two more years before he could claim his retirement. Maybe it was time he began considering that.

And then there was Morganna.

He had left her with one of the biggest womanizers he had ever laid his eyes on. Mace was dependable, a hell of a brute fighter, and loyal as hell when it came to the battle. But he liked women. Loved women. As many as he could get his hands on.

And Morganna had been madder than hell, furious that Clint had left her. He remembered clearly the fights between his parents before his father went off on a mission. Terrible screaming matches that would run for hours on end before

Clint's father slammed out of the house and headed out for war. And Clint's mother headed out for a round of parties night after night, man after man. Could he handle it? he wondered. Hell no, everything inside him screamed out in fury. If Mace touched Morganna, Clint didn't know if he could contain his rage.

His hands clenched on the steering wheel as he pulled into the open garage door and waited for the door to close and the interior lights to blaze on. He knew better than to step out of the car before Mace knew who was there.

When the lights flickered, Clint opened the door and raised his long frame out of the vehicle before moving for the door.

His fists were clenched, his jaw bunched so tight he could reel his molars grinding. Could he survive another man touching her after he'd had her? Would he lose his mind as his father had?

Clint shook his head as he moved through the house, feeling the weight of his fears bearing down on his shoulders as he fought to make sense of the soul-deep tiredness filling him.

The wall section slid open as he neared it, assuring him that no matter what may have happened through the night, Mace was watching.

"Thank God!"

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