eyes burned suddenly. She missed Billy. She’d missed Morgan, too. She’d been such a child when she’d chosen between them. Nineteen. She hadn’t known anything about anything.
“Anyway.” She half turned to leave. “I just wanted to thank you for grabbing Cody from those horses. He’s getting so independent. I have to watch him like a hawk.”
His shoulders relaxed at last, and the tight set of his mouth softened. He was almost the old Morgan. “You should have seen the trouble me and my brothers got into growing up.”
“Don’t tell me. I might not sleep another night if I know what’s waiting for me.”
A ghost of a smile played above his lips.
She wanted to step back into his arms, wanted it so bad it scared her.
“Welcome home, Morgan,” she said and hurried back downstairs, toward the safety of the kitchen.
* * *
MORGAN RAN OUT TO HIS car for his phone charger before joining the others in the kitchen, and saw Rusty Fisher who was heading toward Dakota’s place. The old guy was plenty rough around the edges, but Morgan had always liked him. They’d broken in a horse or two together back in the day.
“She’s at the house for dinner,” he called out to the man who turned his way and watched him for a second before recognizing him.
“Morgan. Good to see you home. Heard you were coming.” Rusty smoothed down his handlebar mustache. His shirt revealed a line of tattoos around his neck that had impressed Morgan plenty when he’d been younger. “I was just going to ask her about the kid. Heard he’d gotten under the horses earlier.”
“Made it out fine.” He took the man’s hand as he strode closer for a shake. “Everything’s good with you, I hope?”
Rusty shrugged. “Things are as good as you make ’em.”
Plenty of truth in that.
“It’s good that all you boys came back home,” the man said. “Family is important.”
They could lift you up or smack you down, that was for sure, Morgan thought, but didn’t say it. “I better get back in. They’re waiting for me for dinner.”
Dakota among them.
He shouldn’t have kissed her.
Mistake number one.
And he hadn’t even unpacked his bag yet.
He didn’t want her to start mattering to him again. He didn’t want to want her. But he did, and he always would, he realized now. He swore under his breath.
Ignoring reality didn’t pay. On a mission, ignoring reality could kill you faster than just about anything else. So as far as he could see it, there really was only one thing he could do: win Dakota back.
Chapter Three
Morgan couldn’t fully concentrate on anything else until Dakota left after dinner. She needed to put Cody to bed. She’d taken Julio’s dinner to him, so Julio wouldn’t have to leave the cabin. For a moment Morgan hesitated whether to go after her. He wanted more time with her, and had plenty of questions for Julio. But he had plenty of questions for his family, too. He would leave Dakota and Julio for the morning.
The ranch manager—who had joined them at the table, an old custom at the ranch—hesitated in the doorway on his way out, worrying his hat in his knobby old hands, his white hair slicked back. “If you have a minute, Justice.”
“Sure thing, Shane.” Justice followed him out to the porch.
Morgan walked back to the living room with his brothers and sat on the sofa, ready to tackle the reason for his return. “So all we know for sure is that our rescue target is somewhere in Mexico.”
“Her name is Brittany,” Wyatt said as he sank into one of the oversize armchairs.
“Most likely somewhere in Mexico,” Bull corrected. He remained standing. “Calderón could have moved her back across into the U.S., but I don’t think it’s likely. His main strength is on the other side of the border where he has law enforcement in his pocket.”
Morgan considered that for a moment before he nodded. “Agreed.” He measured up his brothers. They looked as capable as any of his commando team members. “We’re going to get her back.”
“Of course we will. She’s a McCabe.” Bull emphasized the last word, as if Morgan needed a reminder. “Somebody messes with a McCabe, he messes with all of us. Although, some of us ride to the rescue a little faster than others, I suppose.”
“I was busy.”
“All important, hotshot-commando stuff, I’m sure.”
Annoyance flashed through him. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation. “Carrying my best friend’s body out of the Afghan mountains,” he said anyway.
Bull