Page 24 of Atlanta Heat (Tempting SEALs 6)

Macey was behind Emerson, his arms wrapped around her, his heart racing in his chest.

“You were shot.” She tore her gaze from the death across the room as the six men stared over at her and Macey in varying degrees of shock.

The members of Durango Team were there, along with her godfather, and her godfather wasn’t looking happy.

“Lieutenant,” the admiral snapped as Emerson moved to check the crease in his side. “Are you going to live?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then find your pants, sailor. You’re not dressed.” The admiral’s tone was clearly disapproving.

“No sir, I’m not,” Macey growled, his voice, irritated, still rough from rage, cut through the room.

“Enough.” Firm, brooking no refusal, Emerson sliced her gaze back to Macey. “You need to have this seen to.”

“It’s nothing,” he snapped. But his lips were tight and discomfort darkened his eyes as he glared at the admiral.

Emerson turned back to her godfather. “If he loses rank again, you’re going to have to deal with me. Now take care of the mess in here and I’ll take care of Macey.”

She bent and jerked the jeans he had worn earlier from the floor where he had tossed them before lifting her gaze to his. He still looked ready to fight.

“In the living room.” She swallowed back the bile in her throat at the smell of death that had begun to permeate the room. “You can take care of Drack after I take care of you.”

She led Macey back to the room, aware of the glowering looks he and her godfather exchanged. She couldn’t worry about that; her godfather didn’t get along with anyone, with the exception of her.

She couldn’t worry about the consequences Macey might face in the short term. Because she had come to realize days before that her godfather had been matchmaking for years. In his own less-than-courteous way.

Macey would get over it. Because in a few short minutes Emerson had realized what mattered most to her and it wasn’t protecting her heart.

Macey owned her heart. And he’d better be serious about her owning his, or she was going to make Pierce Landry look like a walk in the park.

Macey belonged to her.

ELEVEN

THE MURDERING SCUM-SUCKING BASTARD had killed Drack. Macey still couldn’t believe it. The snake had lived through one attack, years ago, by a burglar intent on stealing Macey’s electronics.

At that time, the cave hadn’t existed, the computer setup hadn’t been as extensive, and Drack had been a full-grown anaconda. Macey had kept her locked in the computer room as an added precaution. Somehow, someone had gotten in and Drack had taken offense to a stranger in her territory. She had been very territorial.

The snake had taken six shots that had creased her hide deep enough that Macey had to take her to the vet for an extended stay. Drack had never forgotten the scent of a gun, or its consequences. And now, she had died because of one.

Snakes were unfeeling creatures, Macey knew that, but damn if he hadn’t been fond of her.

But Emerson was safe.

He looked down at her as she knelt by the couch, the first-aid kit beside him as she cleaned the wound in his side.

“You need stitches.” She pressed a thick piece of gauze against his side, then pressed her forehead to his jean-clad leg.

Wrapped in a sheet, her shoulders bare, her hair falling down her back, she was like a young goddess kneeling, beautiful and courageous.

Macey buried his hand in her hair and bent his head to hers, despite the pain in his side.

“I’m going to be fine, Em,” he promised softly against her hair. “It’s all over, baby. You’re safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

She shook her head against his leg, and he realized that tears would begin falling soon. She had been brave and strong, but she would need to crash.

He would take her out of here, take her to a hotel room in town, someplace bright and romantic, where he could lay her back in bed and hold her through the night. Let her get used to being safe again.

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