Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(77)

She pushed back her chair and rubbed at her eyes. “I’ve got the computer analyzing the e-mails, searching for something we may have missed, but I think we’ve got everything we’re going to out of these letters.”

Mack wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her body into his, letting his warmth seep into her shivering body. She hadn’t even realized the temperature was dropping in the room. “Are you both still going with the theory that Paul is Sergeant Major’s son?”

Jaimie put her head back against his chest. “I say definitely. If not, Griffen raised him.”

“I’m going with Jaimie on this one, boss,” Javier agreed. “There was no ‘dad’ or ‘son’ or outward sign of affection, but it was in the feel of it. And why the hell keep the letters at all? He’s a kid missing his family.”

“His last name is Mangan, not Griffen. His mother is Shiobhan Mangan. She’s an ambassador’s daughter, a very diplomatic family. She’s the current Irish ambassador. He’s an American citizen and his file says he was raised here with an aunt. His father is Theodore Greystone. Not Griffen.”

Mack snapped his fingers, irritated with himself. “Griffen comes from money,” he said. “Old money, some blueblood family from the South. I remember seeing a spread in a magazine once and his family had an old plantation dating back years. The name of the plantation was Greystone. I thought at the time that it fit. The columns were all made of huge gray stones and it made an impression on me.”

“What are you going to do?” Jaimie asked.

“Don’t either of you say anything to him.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss against her temple. “Thanks, Jaimie. I hope to God you’re right over this. I like the kid.”

“You gonna kiss me too, boss?” Javier asked.

“If you want. Right on the lips,” Mack offered.

“I’ll pass just this once. Wouldn’t want Jaimie to get jealous.” Javier winked at him, kissed Jaimie’s cheek, and sauntered up the stairs as if he hadn’t been up half the night.

“You’re very fond of that man,” Mack said.

“Very,” she acknowledged. “And so are you.”

“He worries me,” Mack admitted. “They all do, but Javier is entirely unpredictable. There’s no way of knowing how he’ll react to any given situation.”

“You saved his life, Mack. A long time ago, on the streets, he could have gone either way. You pulled him into your circle, and he made the decision to follow your lead. He would have been a criminal.”

“He didn’t have much of a chance.”

“He’s always been different. You gave him a moral code. He didn’t have that until you came along.” She turned her head and looked up at him. “When you talk to me, Mack, sometimes you make me crazy, but I want to try again. Read some books on communicating with women, that’s my only advice to you, because you suck at it.”

A slow smile accompanied the slow burning deep in his groin. She was so beautiful to him. So sexy. She didn’t even have to try very hard. “Now’s not the time to give me good news, honey, not with all the boys camping out in our bedroom.”

“Everything is not about sex.”

His eyebrow shot up. “It’s not?”

Jaimie laughed and shook her head, turning to cut off his step before he made it to the stairs. She circled his neck with her arms. “I’m sorry. For earlier. For accusing you.”

He settled his hands at her waist, his heart squeezing down hard like a vise. “Don’t think I won’t do it if I have to, Jaimie. That’s part of who I am. I won’t like it, but if I have to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger to save everyone else, I’d do it. You have to know who and what I am. This time, I want you to know who you’re loving.”

Her heart jumped at the word. He rarely if ever used the L word, certainly not to her. “I know. If I told you I missed you every hour of every day, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say you couldn’t possibly have missed me more than I missed you. You tore out my heart, Jaimie. Don’t do it again. I’m not going to be perfect at this. I’d rather you snap me out of it some way. Kick me in the shins. Punch me. Get my attention. But don’t walk out on me when I’m being dense.”

She touched her tongue to her bottom lip, a sign he recognized as being nervous. Mack kissed her. Hard. Long. With his heart and soul. He never wanted her nervous when she talked to him. She could twist him up inside like no one else could and maybe that did set his teeth on edge, but he’d pay that price if it meant having her. Keeping her. Waking up every morning to her. He wanted to grow old with her. He wanted her there by his side when he died.

The problem with kissing her was it caused other much more intense reactions. His body immediately made urgent demands, hot and hard, and so painfully full he could barely stand the touch of his jeans. Worse, there was no way to stop kissing her once he started. He devoured her mouth, loving the velvet heat and the way she tasted.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt to cup her breasts. “I can barely stand not touching you,” he whispered. “I love your skin. The way you taste. Your mouth.” He bit on her lower lip, tugged, and then teased with his tongue. “You’ve got me hurting like hell, baby.”