Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(27)
The fed’s face set. “It won’t matter what either of you claim. As a federal officer, my word will be enough for a warrant.”
Cosky snorted. “In other words, you’re gonna add this new lie to the list of fairy tales you boys have drawn up.”
Mac grinned slightly at that, before swinging his rifle to the left. Amy had gotten the little guy dressed, and both children stood by her side all spiffy in their new clothes. Which was perfect, since the helicopter was approaching in the distance.
“Time to catch our ride,” he said, rising to his feet.
It took a fraction of the time to get down the hill that it had taken to get up.
“I should arrest you four right now—” Frustrated rage twisted Clay’s face, but there was no surprise as Mac and Zane joined Cosky.
“Good luck with that,” Jude said without bothering to look at the fed.
The whop-whop-whop of the chopper blades was much louder and closer. Thin trails of dust spiraled into the air.
“Momma!” Amy’s youngest went back to tugging on her T-shirt. “That’s a hellcopper.”
“Indeed it is,” Amy said in an easy voice. “How would you like to go for a ride in it?”
Mac studied her composed face. Did anyone else sense the stress beneath the veneer of calm?
“We’re taking a helicopter back?” the older, quieter kid asked, glancing up at Zane for confirmation.
“That’s right.” Zane settled a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You ever been on a chopper before?”
Before the older kid had a chance to respond, the younger boy let out a squeal and bounced a couple times. “Really? Really? We’re gonna ride a hellcopper? Can I—”
The beat of the rotor as the bird closed on them drowned out the boy’s question. Dust began to fly. Through the gray film he saw Amy press her youngest son’s face against her abdomen. Zane drew the hem of the older boy’s T-shirt up over his mouth.
The Jayhawk settled to the ground twenty feet ahead. Jude jogged over, crouched as he neared the blades, and dragged the cargo door open. On high alert, Mac and Cosky covered the bird while Zane and Jude boosted Amy and her two youngsters inside. Once their civilians were stowed safely away, Jude and Zane boarded. Mac followed suit, with Cosky right behind him. The bird lifted as they pulled the cargo door shut. After one quick glance to make sure Amy and the kids were settled, Mac took a seat next to the cargo door and stared out the window.
Amy’s brother grew smaller and smaller as the dust bowl and hillsides spread out beneath them. He scanned the entry road as they flew over it. Nothing. It and the surrounding hillsides sat in frozen, unoccupied stillness. No vehicles. No men waiting to ambush them as they exited the rendezvous site.
He exchanged confused glances with Cosky and then Zane. Unless the kids’ clothes had been bugged, they’d massively overestimated the interest in Amy and her children, which left an unsettled, sour feeling spinning around in his gut. As well as the distinct feeling that the other boot was about to drop in some unknown direction with devastating consequences.
* * *
Chapter Five
* * *
NOW DARLIN’.” RAWLS caught Faith’s gaze and shot her an encouraging grin, but the smile faltered at the emotions boiling in her eyes. The uncertainty and awkwardness he’d expected—he intended to tease that out of her. But the desire and sexual awareness . . . hell, those caught him totally off guard and tied his tongue up good and proper.
A burst of sticky heat swept him. Coughing the sudden dryness from his throat, he dropped his gaze. Big mistake, since it latched on to her mouth. Her moist, slightly parted, far too enticing mouth. Her bottom lip was naked and plump, with the sexiest indentation in the middle. The urge to taste it, suck it—tame that sassy dip with the tip of his tongue—hit hard and fast. When the fit of his jeans tightened, he groaned beneath his breath and wrenched his eyes to safer territory.
The safety lasted all of three seconds, which was how long it took him to wonder if those cinnamon freckles stretching from cheek to cheek tasted sweet or spicy. The impulse to lean down and trace the light brown flecks with his mouth damn near swamped him.
He pulled back, his heart drumming in his ears, the tempo building with each throb of his cock. As he dragged his gaze from her face, it fell on her chest and the milky white crescent of skin between her waistband and the hem of her blouse—beneath which his hand, along with the tubing and diaphragm of the stethoscope, disappeared.
It wasn’t his heart beating a mile a minute, it was hers.
He could feel it pounding beneath his fingers, hear it throbbing in his ears. Unable to stop himself, he lifted his head and zeroed in on her face. A dusky rose invaded her cheeks, but it wasn’t the red of embarrassment, rather the sultry heat of sensuality. Her eyes simmered with hunger, and as he watched, her blue eyes darkened until they looked black.
A web of sexual tension enveloped them, cinched tighter and tighter, while they sat there, staring at each other, his hand pressed to the warm, satin smooth skin above her galloping heart.
“Jesus f*cking Christ, Doc. The bed’s right there. She’s asking for a good hard screwing. What the f*ck are you waiting for?”
It took a second for the words to hit home, but when they did, he recoiled from the bed like he’d just discovered he had hold of a black mamba rather than a stethoscope. Pachico’s raucous laughter followed him as he took a few giant steps back for good measure.