Ride the Tide (Deep Six #3) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,101
man to the next. “I’m assuming you want me alive or else I’d already be dead.”
“You are not ours to kill,” Shadow Man growled.
“Oh, goody.” Mason’s tone was bored and sarcastic, but his mind was a hurricane, swirling with a million and one thoughts. The topmost being Can I reach my Colt? Probably not before I take a round, he decided.
If it were just him, he’d risk it. But it wasn’t just him.
“Get dressed, woman,” the man in the hall snarled. “Then come with us.”
Mason bent to grab the tank top and pajama shorts she’d worn to his room, and Shadow Man barked, “Do not move!”
He slowly lifted his chin. His eyes were mere slits, but he hoped the asshat could read the truth in them. “You’ll hafta kill me before I’ll letcha make her get dressed in front of you.”
For a couple of seconds, silence reigned. He could tell both men would’ve liked nothing better than to take him up on his challenge. Eventually, however, Shadow Man dipped his chin and Mason tossed Alex her clothes.
She caught them one-handed, using her other hand to keep the sheet pulled up to her chin. Her gaze never left his. Her eyes were pie-plate round, and the skin over her cheeks was so tight he could see the blue of her veins snaking beneath.
“It’s okay, babe.” He infused his voice with more certainty than he felt.
He’d do anything to take away even a fraction of her terror. And given the chance, he was going to kill both balaclava-clad bastards for making her suffer one moment of fear. Well, he’d kill them for that and for whatever they’d done to his friends.
Devastating grief threatened to wash over him like a tidal wave. So he pushed the thought to the back of his head.
Mourning was something a man did after the danger passed and the innocents were safe. Until then, he had to keep his head in the game, his eye on the prize, and wait for an opening that would allow him to gain the upper hand.
It probably wasn’t the smartest move, but he kept his back to the intruders while Alex dressed. Partly because he wanted to make sure she could wrestle into her sleepwear while staying concealed beneath the sheet. The idea of anyone, but especially these cocksuckers, seeing her intimate flesh filled him with a fury so hot it made his lungs burn. But mostly because she seemed to need the reassurance in his eyes.
“Quickly!” Shadow Man shouted impatiently.
“I’m done!” Alex scooted from beneath the covers, and then stood demurely beside the bed, chin down, hands clasped behind her back.
“Come forward!” the man commanded from the hall. Obviously, he was the one in charge. Mason filed that bit of information away for future use.
Alex did as instructed, stopping only when she pulled even with Mason. He turned so they both faced their assailants, and the move had his arm brushing hers.
It broke his heart to find her skin clammy and cold, to feel her fingers stiff with fear when she clasped his hand to…
Those aren’t her fingers, he realized with a start as she stealthily transferred the KA-BAR knife he kept on his nightstand into his hand.
She must’ve palmed it while she was holding up the sheet to get dressed. Trust her to keep her head about her even with a full-auto pointed her way.
Beautiful, brilliant woman, he thought, pride filling his chest.
If he wasn’t in love with her before, he fell a little in love with her right then and there.
“Come out!” Shadow Man commanded. “Slowly. No sudden moves.”
Mason concealed the KA-BAR knife along the length of his forearm by cupping the hilt in the tips of his fingers. He kept his entire arm pressed close to his side, hoping their attackers would mistake his stiffness for fear.
When they made it into the dark hall and down the stairs without the balaclava twins spying his weapon, he heaved a sigh of relief. Shuffling onto the porch, glad to hear Meat still going crazy somewhere close because it meant that his dog was alive and kicking, he watched and waited for one of his enemies to make a false move.
There was a saying in the spec-ops community. The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat. He wasn’t as good as Wolf when it came to knife play. But after hundreds of hours of practice, he could certainly hold his own. All he needed was—