Hell for Leather (Black Knights Inc. #6)(32)

Uh-huh. That sounded simple enough, didn’t it? After all, she was with four big, tough men. It should’ve been easy to walk up to that chipped and peeling front door. It should have been. Unfortunately, someone, at some point, had glued her boots to the sidewalk.

“Jesús Cristo,” Steady harrumphed, the first to start stomping up the sidewalk. “Let’s hope the inside of this place is better than the outside.”

Mac ushered her forward. And was it just her? Or did the trip up to the front porch feel sort of like Dead Man Walking? As if she was heading toward her own funeral…

Okay, and now you’re just being fanciful. Stop imagining things.

“Mr. Sander?” Steady pulled the screen door open—well, frame of a screen door, really; there was no actual screen attached. “Mr. Sander!” Steady tried again, holding the metal doorframe open with his foot and banging on the front door. The thing might have been bright red at one point, but now it was a dirty crimson color, and the air on the porch hung heavy with the smell of the honeysuckle bush growing over the south side railing. Beneath that lingered the dank, moldy aroma of rotting wood mixed with a hint of dog piss and…was that marijuana? “Are you in there, Mr. Sander? We’re friends of Theo Fairchild!”

Silence. Dark, dense silence.

And, as if the place wasn’t atmospheric enough already, a barn owl, perched somewhere nearby, chose that exact moment to let loose with one of its screeching calls. Ozzie jumped, unholstering his weapon. “Seriously?” he shuddered. “I mean…Jesus!”

“Knock again. If you don’t get an answer, try the knob,” Mac instructed Steady, still firmly holding Delilah’s hand. And it was a good thing, too. She feared his tough grip might be the only thing keeping her on the porch and not beating feet in the opposite direction.

Steady knocked. Once. Twice. Three times. When nothing stirred inside the house, he turned the knob, pushing the door open.

Something huge and snarling barreled out at them. The next thing Delilah knew, she was airborne…

***

When the large shadow leaped from inside the house, Mac’s instincts kicked in…

First thing: Protect the girl. He grabbed Delilah around the waist and lunged off the porch, landing on the hard ground on his back—Ow! Sonofa—before rolling Delilah beneath him and covering her with his body. Second thing: Acquire the target. He reached into his waistband, grabbed his Glock 22 .40 caliber pistol, pulled back the side, and lifted the weapon to stare down the night sights.

Just as he’d been taught at the Academy, he scanned the yard in front of him. Acquiring target. Acquiring target. Acqu—There!

“Don’t shoot!” Ozzie yelled. “It’s just a dog!”

And, sure as shit, Mac’d already figured that out for himself. He glanced over his shoulder to see Steady sprawled on his back in the middle of the porch, his neck wrenched back, his arms over his head aiming his handgun into the front yard. Ozzie and Zoelner had taken up positions behind the front pillars supporting the porch’s roof, their weapons drawn, their fingers on the triggers.

Well, good to see we’ve all still got it, he mused, turning back in time to witness—oh, goody—the big, yellow dog squatting down in order to take a mammoth dump on the lawn.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I was expecting,” he heard Ozzie mutter, amusement in his tone.

“Mac?” A muffled voice sounded from beneath him. Ah, shit. He’d jumped on Delilah quicker than a duck on a Junebug, and now the poor woman was probably suffocating under his not unsubstantial weight.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologized, pushing up on his elbows and staring down into her pretty face. There was a smudge of dirt on her chin, and her cheeks were flushed. But other than that, she appeared unscathed. He should have rolled off her. He should have.

He didn’t.

Because she was soft and lush, and for a moment, during which time he was quite sure he’d up and lost his cotton-pickin’ mind, he allowed himself to revel in the sensation of her beneath him. “It was a…” Holy crow, was that his voice? All low and growly? “…a false alarm.”

She nodded jerkily. But it wasn’t fear he saw in her eyes. Hell, no. Fear would not have had every cell inside him screeching to a stop. Awareness would. And that’s exactly what was plastered all over Delilah’s face. Her awareness. Of him. As a man…

And just as every cell inside him came to a grinding halt, so, too, did the rest of the world. The eerie sounds of the downtrodden neighborhood vanished. His teammates and the big, goofy dog appeared frozen in place. It was just the two of them. Just Mac and red-hot Delilah—her lush breasts brushing his chest on an indrawn breath, her green irises speckled with tiny flecks of gold. Up close like this, he could see that he’d been right all along. Her skin was completely, damnably flawless. Her lips plump and smooth. And speaking of… She opened her mouth on an exhale that tickled his chin and allowed her sweet breath to tunnel up his nostrils.

The stupid things flared of their own accord, and when she saw his reaction, she shifted. Just a little. Just enough so that her leg slipped to the outside of his. Just enough for her fun parts to directly align with his. Little Mac, never one to miss this kind of opportunity, swelled and strained against his zipper. His balls instantly tightened and began throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He was lost. Lost in the sight of her. In the feel of her. In the wondrous—