Chapter Seven
Jag kicked off his boots, scooted onto the bed and propped his back against a pillow. He listened to the running water in the next room and felt regret flow into his chest.
Maybe not regret, but what was it?
He'd known Mercy for almost as long as he knew Mateo.
Their first meeting still haunted him.
Mateo had invited Jag to a weekend getaway at the lake during leave before SOI. During that time, he met Mercy. He snuck away to catch a peek at the water and that was when he saw her reading on a rock near the lake’s edge. He stood there for the longest time, mesmerized by her beauty, how the ends of her coiled hair whipped around in the wind beneath the obnoxiously wide-brimmed hat. Her white shirt was open in the front, revealing a neon pink bikini, and Jag instantly noticed how long and toned her legs were.
The sun had hit her face just right, making her look almost angelic or a figment of his imagination. He had no idea who she was, yet he would have sacrificed anything, including his next breath, to meet her.
She was so focused on the book that she didn’t hear him approach until he was right up on her. She’d whipped off her sunglasses, revealing the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Made even bluer by the bright sunlight.
Transfixed by her, he’d missed her miffed expression.
“I’m reading,” she’d said with a tilted head.
Days out of Marine boot camp, she was the best thing he’d seen in weeks so she could have struck him over the head with a tire iron and he probably would have missed the cues that she didn’t want to be bothered.
“What are you reading?” he’d asked.
She’d held up the book to show him the cover. “Jane Austen. I’m guessing you have no clue who she is.”
He chuckled. “It’s a beautiful day.” It didn’t too long to realize she had a bit of a smartass personality. Not in a mean way…but a teasing way.
“It was,” she said sharply, then buried her nose back in the book.
He’d been determined to make a fool of himself. “This is the first time I’ve been in this part of the country. I’ve always heard Colorado was amazing. From what I’ve seen so far, I’ve been missing out.” He’d journeyed his gaze down her legs to her brightly pink painted toenails that had matched her bikini.
“Lovely,” she said without looking up from the book.
“I hear there’s a great creek nearby. I’d love to get into some fishing while I’m here.”
She didn’t acknowledge him.
He started to catch on. “Is everyone around here as friendly as you are?”
That brought her gaze up. One corner of her mouth twisted. “You’re intruding on my peace and quiet,” she said.
“Trust me, I regret it,” he growled.
“Hey, I see you’ve met Mercy,” Mateo said as he approached.
“Do you know her?” Jag failed to conceal his disinterest.
“She’s my sister.”
Jag watched as the woman jumped off the rock in enthusiasm and ran into Mateo’s arms for a tight hug.
“I’ve missed you. Look at that hair. It’s so short.” She’d ran her hand over his military cut.
“Sis, this is Jag. We met in boot camp.”
“Oh… Jag.” There was finally a hint of a smile.
“Pride & Prejudice,” Jag said.
Mercy’s eyes had widened while Mateo glanced from each of them, confused. “Did I miss something?”
“So you do read?” Her smile widened.
“Believe it or not, but I can tie my shoes too.”
He was brought back to the present when the water shut off in the bathroom. Over the years since that lakeside meeting, Jag had always looked forward to seeing Mercy when visiting Mateo. Fortunately, his first impression of her had changed. Although she was full of sass, he found her engaging. Now here he was, vowing to protect her. That meant keeping his hands to himself and treating her like his best friend’s sister.
The door opened, and she stepped out, carrying with her the scent of soap and a blast of steam. She wore a T-shirt with the American flag emblazoned across the front and sweatpants that were a bit snug, accentuating her feminine curves. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and her face was bare and clean, the dark circles under her eyes prominent against her fair skin.
“Better?” he asked, feeling the need to say something.
“Somewhat.” She sat down on the end of the bed. “I need to know more about the plan. You said you’d tell the crew that I’m your cousin?”
“Under the circumstances, I think it’ll work.”
“Whatever you say.” She loosened the towel and dragged it off her head. Her damp hair fell in thick, damp coils down her shoulders.
He inhaled her clean scent and felt a familiar tug in his body.
Time had gone by since he’d held a woman. A choice he’d consciously made. He’d isolated himself from everyone, making his social circle as small as possible. PTSD could do that to a person. Coming to Storm Pass, that circle had grown, but he was protective of who found their way into his bubble.
A man never truly understood how much a military career affected him until he was tossed back into civilian life. The lack of routine and focus had left Jag feeling ungrounded. Detaching himself and moving to a cabin up on a Tennessee mountain had given him time to bounce back, so when Puma reached out with an offer to work at the ranch and Shades of Steel Security, Jag decided he’d been in an incubation period long enough. He couldn’t say those first few months weren’t hard as he adjusted, but being around a crew of like-minded men did help him settle in faster.
“Tell me about the cowboys.” She gave her hair a quick finger-comb, tossing the ends over one shoulder.
He crossed his ankles. “We talked about Puma and his wife.”
“She’s pregnant, right?”
Jag nodded. “You might have heard Mateo mention some of their names. Arrow. Atlas. Bones. Bear. Kye. Crow. We’ve all been battle buddies at some point.”
“Maybe, but when he came home, he didn’t want to talk about his life over there and the missions he was a part of.” She twirled a strand of her hair around her knuckle. “Where will I stay?”
“You’ll be staying in the cottage…with me.” He knew he’d better make the living situation clear right from the get-go.
She gave the impression that she wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “You can’t be hooked to my hip. People will be suspicious.”
“The crew won’t think too hard about the situation. If you don’t give them reason to overthink things.”
A frown crossed her expression. “Won’t they ask questions?”
“Bryar might have a couple, but the men will take it for face value.” He glanced over at her. “I’m sorry to hear about Mateo and his wife. Is there any chance they might reconcile?” Jag thought they needed a change of subject.
“I hope so. They were very much in love. Their jobs, though, made it difficult for them to navigate the personal and professional aspects.”
“I can understand,” he scraped his fingers down his jaw. “We should probably try to get some sleep. We’ll have to be up early.” He jumped up from the bed, grabbed a pillow, and headed for the chair, giving it a check for stability. It wobbled and creaked, yet he’d slept on worse.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Getting settled in for the night,” he dropped into the chair, giving it another check to ensure he wouldn’t topple to the ground.
The area between her brows scrunched. “You’re planning on sleeping on that…that thing that disguises itself as a chair?”
“Better than the floor. You take the bed and get some sleep.” He dragged his hat lower over his face. He was tired but knew he’d only get a couple of hours. “Grab that light, will you?”
“This can’t happen,” she muttered.
He pushed his hat up on his forehead, slanting one eyelid open. “You can’t get the light?”
“You can’t sleep there.”
“I would have opted for the bathtub, but someone took a long shower. I’m not keen on sleeping in puddles. That’s where I draw the line.”
“Look, this bed is big enough for two.”
“Not happening,” he grunted.
“Why not?” The corners of her mouth dipped.
“You're Mateo’s sister.”
“You’re his best friend. So what? Not like we haven’t slept together before.”
“And it can’t happen again.”
She sighed. “I’m not inviting you to have sex. I’m offering to share the bed, platonically.” She stood up, grabbed her bag, and shoved it into the middle of the bed. “Now it’s fairly divided.”
Logic chimed inside his head, urging him to reject the offer. Take the chair and deal with it, but on the other hand, he knew he’d regret it in the morning. His body wasn’t twenty years old any longer. He also had a sinking feeling that the wobbly chair might crash when he shifted. He eyed the bed, then Mercy. A tightness grew in his throat. “It’s best I stay here.”
“We’re adults.”
“Yeah, that’s the excuse we used when we allowed things to get out of hand at Mateo’s wedding.”
Her brow lifted. “Are you saying you can’t keep your hands to yourself?”
“I was thinking more that this wasn’t part of the deal. Sleeping in the same bed.”
“This isn’t one of your usual situations now, is it?” she said flippantly. “Suit yourself. You can't blame me when you wake up with body aches.” She crawled under the covers, then yawned and stretched her arms high above her head, making a deep, moaning sound. “The bed’s not too bad for a two-star motel.” She gave a little flip of her body to test the springs in the mattress.
The imp knew precisely what she was doing to him.
Every part of his body stiffened, but his back was already aching. He wasn’t looking forward to the condition it’d be in come morning. The last strand of doubt frayed, and he hauled himself to his feet, swiped off his hat, and laid it on the desk. Knowing she watched him intently, he strolled to the bed but ignored her.
He stretched out on top of the blanket, and although the bed was much more comfortable than the chair, he found it hard to breathe because every inhale brought her delicious scent into his nostrils. What was happening to him? He’d always had control like steel girders, but they were lacking this evening.
He plopped over onto his side and closed his eyes.
He counted sheep.
Pigs.
Blades of grass.
Nothing worked.
He guessed he was too damn tired to sleep. Sometimes that happened. His thoughts were running too freely.
“Can’t sleep either?” she asked.
“Nah.”
“Mateo said you were injured in Kuwait. A gunshot. That was why you retired?”
“Yeah. It still gives me fits at times.” He hated discussing the day he and his unit encountered enemy fire. He got shot in the leg, but fortunately, he didn’t lose it. He and his team were deployed to a secluded area to locate a terrorist who had been hiding underground for months. They’d entered a network of dark caves and were ambushed within minutes. They took on severe gunfire and were lucky that every soldier made it out alive.
“You hate discussing the missions, too,” she said softly.
“Sometimes it’s best not to talk about things. We learn to hide them behind a steel trap.” The darkness in the room made it easier for him to open up. “That’s not healthy.”
“Neither is junk food, but I remember you always had a sweet tooth.”
“I eat when I’m stressed.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m only saying we live in a world where ninety-nine percent of our actions could be classified as unhealthy.”
“Somehow, I feel like this is your way of evading the subject.”
“You could be right,” he muttered.
“Just so we’re clear, I admire what you did,” she said softly.
He lifted his head a few inches to look at her through the shadows that seemed to move. “Which part?”
“I admire the bravery it must have taken to board a plane and jump into a foreign, potentially hostile location. The adrenaline rush that comes from searching for a criminal and bringing them to justice is exhilarating. It’s validating to end a terrorist's reign of destruction.”
“Mercy?”
“Yes?” She shifted so that she was looking at him. A hint of moonlight trickled in from the slats on the window.
“Why are you sitting behind a computer?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m beginning to understand. You took the opportunity to infiltrate Cross’s party because you enjoy taking risks. Pursuing criminals outweighs the danger. It’s perfectly okay to want to do more than stay behind the scenes. I admire that too.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell Mateo what I had planned to do. I wanted to go into the club and take pictures. I know it can be classified as clumsy behavior, but I felt alive. The desire to end Cross’s terror outweighed safety concerns.”
“Hell, it’s time you start living your life and not allowing Mateo to run the show,” Jag said.
“That’s interesting because you and I certainly have allowed him to 'run the show' when it comes to us.”
He’d walked right into that one, and he wasn’t going to tackle that subject tonight. “I thought you said this bed was comfortable,” he said. “I’ve slept on softer dirt.”
“It is for me, but again, I don’t have all those…things.”
“Things?’
“Muscles. But it’s not like I noticed, of course.” She yawned again, which made him yawn too.
“Question. Are you still best friends with the lady with blue hair and a dozen piercings on her nose?”
“Hart? Yes. She’s a fashion designer and models her work.”
“She just…well, I don’t think she likes me. All that talk about women’s rights and all men are bastards could be the giveaway. Hell, don’t get me wrong, I believe in equal rights, but she always looks at me like she wants to run me through with a spear. She’s a bit scary.”
Mercy laughed. “You? Afraid of a five-foot-two woman? The same man who was shot with a bullet?”
“Women are far more dangerous than any bullet.” He propped himself up on his elbow and struck his pillow a few times. He then lay back down, gazing at her silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight.
“Believe it or not, Hart has been through a lot. I’ve always told her she should write a book about her past experiences.”
“My therapist told me journaling every day could reduce the racing in my head.”
“Hmm. Did you try it?” Mercy asked.
“For a while, but writing my thoughts down just isn’t my thing. Hey, it might work for others, but I find that I’m a more hands-on -working-hard type of guy. Since I’ve been at Storm Pass, I feel…different. Healthier. Ranching is hard, but it pushes the body and the mind in good ways.”
“I’ve always known you were human, Jag.”
“I always knew you were smart.”
“What gave it away? That I always had my nose in a book?”
“Have you heard that being a nerd is sexy? Men like that sort of thing.”
“You mean women who can hold a decent conversation?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Was it hard for you to walk away from the military?”
“There are days I miss being deployed. A person can get addicted to the adrenaline, but he also knows when it’s time to hang up his uniform.”
“Adrenaline can take years off your life if you're not careful. I'm changing the subject. I must say, I’m surprised you were interested in intelligent women. I didn’t think they were exactly your type.” Her sarcasm was evident in her tone.
“Oh, that’s how this is going to go? Picking on me, huh?”
“Let’s see…there was Sara Foles. Her favorite movie was Clueless . I, too, loved the movie, but for different reasons. I didn’t run out and adopt a miniature dog, carrying it around in a pink purse and feeding it ice cream pops—poor dog. And then I do believe Macy Riley told a story about learning French. She passed her community college class because she always wore those thin, tight sweaters that showed off her Christmas present, aptly named double Ds.”
“Sara and Macy were both nice girls.”
“And so were my exes, but that doesn’t keep you from making fun of them every time I see you,” she pointed out firmly.
“Fine. I’ll stop with the insults. At least I’ll make my best effort. Anyway, Mateo said there are a lot of suspects he’s pulling dirt on. Your Uncle Joe. I would have never guessed. He always seemed so…”
“Kind and sweet?”
“I don’t look at men and think they’re kind and sweet.” Jag chuckled. “I thought he walked a fine line. But he wouldn’t be the first person to cave in his career. Law enforcement is tough and pressurized.”
“I guess.”
“Penny for your thoughts?” For the first time in a long time, he was truly enjoying a conversation with someone.
“Mateo planted a seed in my head about my partners at SMH.”
“What is the seed?”
“That Howie, or McKinley, could have gotten involved with Cross. Mateo thinks that was how Cross knew I was coming to the party.”
“Makes sense. Mateo has honed instincts.”
She sighed. “Wouldn’t I suspect something? See the red flags?”
“Not necessarily.” Jag shifted his body to get more comfortable. “When it comes down to it, we see what we want to see in the people we care for. Damn, Mercy. You could have been hurt, or worse. Going in there without the proper backup was reckless.”
She hesitated before saying, “I could have been, but I wasn’t.”
“There are times when I wonder if you enjoy testing the waters.”
She yawned. “I’m getting sleepy.”
“Get some rest, Mercy.”
“Good night, Jag,” she slurred. “Thank you for being my bodyguard. I’ve always wanted one of those.”
He couldn’t tell if her words were sincere or mocking.
A few minutes later, her delicate snores told him she was asleep.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the shade lowered on the window. The storm started, and thunder vibrated the walls, reminding him of bombs exploding in the distance. Everything these days seemed to be compared to his time in the SEALs. Even now, a few years later, he felt like he had to be vigilant about every sound, every shadow, every movement. The training was embedded in him.
The sound of the rain hitting the roof soothed him some, but the change in barometric pressure caused a throbbing at his temples. Maybe the headache was partially due to the situation.
Mercy wasn’t just any case.
Not by a long shot.
He couldn’t deny that he had feelings for her. It wasn’t right that he did. Even if he could get over the fact that she was his best friend’s sister, he couldn’t be in a relationship. He was still adjusting to civilian life.
He lay there another half hour until he couldn’t lie still any longer.
Pushing off the bed, he quietly went to his bag, unzipped it, and took out the pack of cigarettes. It was a foul habit, but he guessed he could do a lot worse. He shook out one and stepped outside. He breathed in the fresh scent of rain and decided against smoking. He’d put too much effort into quitting to falter.
He opened the sleeve and dumped the contents onto the ground.
A car pulled into the quiet lot, and a man and woman climbed out, laughing and goofing off. Jag heard the woman say, “I can’t believe I can call you my hubby. I’m going to have sex with my husband tonight. It has a special ring to it, don’t you think?” She seemed very proud.
The man laughed. “I’m going to have sex with my wife.”
The two stepped up to the door, and he scooped his wife into his arms, carrying her across the threshold as they slammed the door behind them.
Jag felt an ache in the center of his chest. Not that he envied marriage, but what he did envy was the innocence of young folks. If only they had a glimpse of the dangerous world, would they be more cautious? Bitter? Like Jag.
He didn’t want to be bitter. He wanted happiness like everyone else, but he carried self-doubt. He rejected the notion that he could offer someone all his heart without feeling like he was giving away a part of himself.
He could hear Mercy saying as plain as day, “How could a man so brave be such a chicken?”
He laughed at his annoying thoughts and went back inside to crawl into bed, careful not to disturb Mercy. She looked so peaceful, her hands pressed together under her cheek. He reached over and lifted a strand of her hair, twirling the silken piece around his finger. In that moment, he had never wanted to protect anyone more than her. He’d never felt such a strong urge to toss aside his values and pull her into his arms.
She moaned as if she were having a bad dream.
“It’s okay, Mercy. You’re safe.”
His words seemed to satisfy her because she fell into silence.
Lying next to her didn’t feel too bad.
What scared him the most was the fact that he wasn’t so scared about his feelings for her. She made him feel safe, and that was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.