Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,56
like a beast. Her kisses were powerful enough to make him think of things like a future and forever. Two things he’d shelved once his life had turned into counting steps and anticipating running into strangers, table edges, or curbs. His life was orderly because it had to be.
But Maddie… He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like a hypocrite. Here he’d been telling her to believe in herself. Maybe he should take his own advice.
Her silky palm on his cheek brought Jameson out of his reverie. “Where’d you go?” she whispered.
“I’m still right here. Can’t you feel me?”
“Yes, but…” Her fingertips smoothed up his jawline and into his hair, melting the last of his defenses. “For a minute there, it seemed like you were somewhere else.”
Ahh, she was picking up on his cues awfully quick. See? Smart.
“I’m just tired,” he lied. There’d be time for truth later when they were alone.
Her hand didn’t move away as he expected. Instead, she cupped the back of his head and settled her cheek on his shoulder. “We’re safe, Jameson. We’re really safe.”
Man, how he wanted to agree, but he whispered, “Shush,” instead. The inner spidey senses that ran like tiny livewires through his nervous system were tingling. Telling him they weren’t alone, and they weren’t safe. Not yet. Someone was outside the perimeter of this monster vehicle. Too damned close.
“Babe, sit tight,” he said as he leaned forward and grabbed one of the pistols he’d midnight requisitioned back at the farmhouse. “I’m just going to—”
Too late. Some asshat flung the rear limo door open.
Jameson aimed his weapon for a headshot. “Back off or you’ll die,” he ordered.
“Shit, man, is that any way to treat a buddy?”
“Adam? Thank God!” Jameson pointed his weapon at the ceiling and thumbed the safety.
“Yeah. Me, Hunter, and Eric been looking for you. Hunter’s the one who finally spotted this limo.”
The door on Jameson’s left jerked open to a surly, “Jesus Christ, you two are a freakin’ lot of trouble. You left one helluva mess back at the farm, Tenney.”
Jameson was grinning by then. He didn’t know who that guy was, but he sounded as good as Adam.
“One casualty,” Jameson changed the subject. “Vlad Somebody. Haven’t had a chance to get more information. He can’t talk because of his—”
“Get that spotlight out of my eyes, Reynolds,” Maddie ordered. “I’m not hurt and I’m not Vlad.”
“Got him, Maddie,” yet another deep, confident male voice replied. “Give me some room, Adam. Let me look at… Damn, who bandaged this guy?”
“She did,” Jameson said at the same time Maddie said, “I had to. He was dying.”
“Good job, Mad Dog,” that same male operator, Reynolds, replied enthusiastically. “What’d you use for plugs in that bullet hole?”
“My bra,” she answered, her tone gone timid again. Any other operator would’ve made those two words sound like a brag, but she made it sound like an apology. That had to change.
“Mad Dog, huh?” Jameson asked. “I like it. That’s who you’ll be from now on, Mad Dog Bannister.”
“No!” she squealed, pushing farther away from him. But he could tell she was smiling, and that Reynolds guy knew how to talk to her. His praise made Maddie feel like one of the guys.
Jameson pulled her back into his side. “Come here, you. I hear Alex is on his way. First responders, too.”
“No worries,” Adam replied. “Eric Reynolds is former USMC medic. He’ll take care of Vlad until they show.”
“Here’s something to snack on and four bottled waters.” The man named Hunter passed the goods to Jameson and made sure he had a hold on them. “You need help with an IV drip, Eric?”
“That’d be good. Vlad’s got a strong pulse, but he’s dehydrated. Let’s get one started. No telling how long the EMTs will take. This place isn’t easy to get to.”
While the three operators worked on Vlad, Jameson eased back into the seat, with Mad Dog settled against him, her back to his side. She leaned her head onto the arm he’d circled around her neck and shoulder. Her entire body expanded with a beautifully feminine sigh. And Jameson knew what he wanted, make that who he wanted, in the rest of his life. In his bed. Who cared that they’d only just met? He wanted the brave, timid kitten in his arms, the one whose purring echoed in his heart. She might be tiny, but her old man was dead damned wrong. She was fierce.