Mack stared out the window to the streets below. He didn’t dare move. He leaned his forehead against the thick glass, desperately trying to shut out the sounds of the water running. Just the thought of Jaimie naked, eyes closed, her face turned up to allow the water to cascade over her br**sts, run along her narrow ribs, her flat belly, still lower to the silky triangle of tight curls . . . He just stopped himself from groaning out loud.

Kane, damn him, would know immediately what was wrong. Mack rubbed his pounding temples. It felt like someone was using a pile driver on his head. His entire body burned, throbbed with pain. He hadn’t felt this way in his worst teenage years.

He had a sudden vision of Joe Spagnola in that elegant glass shower with Jaimie, his hands moving over her body. Mack’s large hand balled into a fist, slammed into the window ledge, instantly dispelling the scene.

Kane whistled softly. “Need a couple of aspirin?”

“The woman makes me crazy,” Mack said between clenched teeth. His voice grated.

“The woman has always made you crazy,” Kane was compelled to point out.

“Don’t laugh about this, Kane. She’s living in this . . .” Mack gestured wildly with his hands, swinging around to encompass the huge floor. “Look at this, a f**king warehouse in a not so great part of the city. And . . . and,” he added when he saw Kane’s mouth twitch, “she’s got some six foot Adonis drinking beer in her bedroom.”

“Let’s be fair, Mack, she probably had him drink it in the living room or maybe the kitchen,” Kane replied mildly.

“Just how the hell can you tell the difference? If he’s sitting in her living room, he can see the bed, can’t he? Don’t you think that’s going to put a few ideas in the bastard’s head?”

“Looking at Jaimie probably put ideas in this guy’s head,” Kane corrected. He poured two mugs of coffee.

“I think I’ll have a private little chat with him. Find out what the hell he wants with her.”

“What do you think he wants, you idiot? He’s a man, isn’t he? She’s beautiful, intelligent, going to make a load of money, and she’s single. He’s no fool.”

“You aren’t helping, Kane.” Mack curled his fingers into fists and hit his thighs.

“He’s looking to take advantage of her because she’s lonely.”

“Don’t do anything to make her feel sorry for him. You know Jaimie and her underdog syndrome.” Kane flashed a small grin. “And she didn’t look all that lonely to me, not with beer in her fridge.”

“It was a big mistake to give her all this time.” Mack accepted the steaming mug of aromatic liquid. “So, all right, Jaimie doesn’t like what we do . . .”

“Back up, Mack,” Kane cautioned. “It’s more than that and you know it. Jaimie can’t stomach it. End of discussion. You, better than anyone, know that. You saw her.

Don’t get any ideas about discussing it with her. She was traumatized. In shock. She can’t live this life.”

“We can’t just dance around the subject.” Mack’s black eyes gleamed like firestones.

“Isn’t that exactly what you said the night she left?” Kane rested a hip against the butcher-block table.

Mack swore softly. He had bungled that so badly. “The whole thing went wrong from the start.” He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, remembering that horrible night.

The weather turned bad as they were nearing the shore. They were in dark, skintight clothing, crepe-soled shoes. Nine men, one woman. Rhianna had been chosen for a special assignment in Brazil, leaving Jaimie the only woman on the team. The raft was put over the side and the men took up the oars. No one spoke, their faces like masks in the reflection of the choppy water.

Mack hit the sand first, covered the others as they pulled the raft onto shore. The raft was camouflaged and the group headed stealthily up the beach. Two cars waited for them. No one spoke. At precisely 3:58 the cars split up, one stopping at the top of the block, the other at the other end. The silent team closed in on either side of the fourth building. Rain hammered at them, visibility was poor.

“Sentry,” Jaimie hissed softly. “Another across the street, on the roof.”

Kane moved around her to take care of the guard in front. A second man split from the group to warily cross the street. The rest waited, crouched in position, until first Kane and then Javier signaled.

They moved like lightning, entering the house from two points, heading for the second floor, third door on the left. Their informant had been positive the two French hostages were still alive in that room.

Jaimie suddenly signaled, her eyes wild with fear. “They’re waiting for us, it’s a trap, there’s at least two dozen of them.”

Mack didn’t hesitate. “Pull out! Pull out!” Mack gave the order clearly, quickly, into the radio.

All hell broke loose, machine gun fire erupting from all directions. They were forced up the stairs to the second floor. “Don’t touch the doors, none of the doors.”

Jaimie yelled the warning into her radio, danger emanating in waves from their surroundings.

Mack stayed in the lead with Jaimie behind him, the others, and, finally, Kane bringing up the rear. Screams, blood, dragging their friends—it was an eternity of hell. A hailstorm of bullets followed them everywhere. Jaimie found their escape route with her unerring, uncanny, undefined ability. One door, looking like a closet, not wired, but locked. Jaimie dispatched the lock holding up two fingers.

Mack rolled in going to the left, Jaimie to the right, guns tracking. Two women, both screaming in French. “Hostage! Hostage!” Mack lowered his gun. In the same heartbeat, one of the women raised an Uzi. The other woman continued to plead in French, tears coursing down her face. She was between Jaimie and Mack’s assassin.

“Shoot!” Kane’s voice roared in Jaimie’s ears and then both women went down in a hail of bullets.

It all happened in seconds. Jaimie screamed a horrified protest. Kane pushed her through, trying to keep her away from the second woman’s body. Jaimie went to her knees, trying to cradle the dying woman’s head in her arms. Bullets spit at them from every direction. Mack yanked her to her feet, dragging her out.

They nearly lost three men, carrying the bodies to the car. Brian, Jacob, and Gideon were all shot to hell. Jaimie had been stark white, her blue eyes two dark, haunting holes. There was blood on her clothes, and all over her hands, as she tried desperately to stem the life force draining from the men she’d grown up with. It had been a nightmare journey home, a fight all the way to keep the three men alive.

Hours later, when they were finally safe, Mack held Jaimie while she was sick, again and again, violent, gut-wrenching spasms. She hadn’t spoken, hadn’t said a word, rocking back and forth with a blank, horrified stare that had scared the hell out of Mack. He’d tried to shake her out of it, order her out of it.

“It might have been better if we could have proved the other woman was also part of the Doomsday terrorists. Unfortunately the French hostages are both dead. No one knows where their bodies are. We’ll never know for sure,” Kane said softly.

“I know,” Mack insisted firmly. “My gut knows. It was a trap, a great trap. I was dead. If you hadn’t come in, I was dead.”

“Maybe she can’t forgive us for not knowing if the second woman was innocent, but I know she can’t forgive herself for not being able to pull that trigger to save your life. She loves you. She’s always loved you. In her eyes, she betrayed you. And when you came down so hard on her, you betrayed her by not understanding, by not seeing.” Kane shook his head. “She’s wired differently than we are, Mack. All that blood. Seeing the others covered in blood, you know she had to remember finding her mother.”

Mack shook his head. “She was such a little child. All eyes. That killer smile. No kid should have to see that.”

“I think blood brings it all back, Mack. She can’t take it.”

Mack swept an unsteady hand through his thick, springy hair. “I see. I understand.

Jaimie probably isn’t capable of killing another human being either. That’s all right with me. It doesn’t make me think any less of Jaimie. I can understand her feelings.”

“No, you can’t,” Kane denied. “Neither can I. It doesn’t mean we think less of her, it means she’s different from us.”

Mack rubbed at his temples. Jaimie was different. And maybe he didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her in his life. She was so good at what they did, yet she couldn’t take the blood and gore, freezing, rendering her useless when push came to shove. She’d been a liability and as much as they needed what she could do, he had to accept that she would never be a part of his work. Never be a part of the biggest part of his life. Jaimie was smarter and quicker at figuring things out.

Maybe she’d already figured that and had walked away because she couldn’t accept it.

Jaimie emerged from the bathroom in faded button-up Levi’s, a soft blue sweatshirt, bare feet, and a towel wrapped around her wet hair like a turban, and both immediately ceased their conversation.

“What? No breakfast? There’s no room service, you know,” she chastised. “I had high hopes that one of you would do the cooking.”

She walked beautifully, even in blue jeans. Mack’s black gaze was hot as it followed her to the barstool. She’d always been graceful, and now she glided, her feet making no sound on the floor. He loved her hair, a halo of shiny curls. Her hair had always been unruly, messy, like a woman after a man spent a long night making love to her. He took a deep breath and let it out, avoiding Kane’s piercing gaze. The man knew him too well.

“We managed to make coffee,” Kane pointed out, pouring her a cup, taking pity on Mack.

“What’s this ‘we’ business?” Mack protested. “If you hadn’t kept us up, Jaimie, half the night with your incessant chatter, we might be a bit sharper this morning.”

She laughed at him, her vivid blue eyes dancing. “You always did wake up crabby, Mack.”

“You take a shower first,” Kane insisted generously. “I suggest a cold one. It will work wonders.”

Behind Jaimie’s back, Mack gestured rudely. The two men burst out laughing simultaneously.

“Towels are on the sink,” Jaimie provided helpfully. She looked a bit smug, very happy and extremely kissable.

Mack reminded himself to quit staring at her mouth. It wasn’t helping to relax his body. “Thank you, honey.” Deliberately, his voice was low and silky and caressing.

The bastard Joe might be six feet tall, but he had nothing on Mack when it came to knowing what Jaimie liked best. He knew every hidden spot, every secret shadow.

She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip, eyes going wide and darkening to a royal blue. She suddenly found her coffee interesting. He managed to walk to the bathroom as if all parts of his body were cooperating.

Kane leaned his elbows on the counter across from Jaimie. “That floor is as hard as nails. I was serious about ordering a bed or two. Would you mind?”

Her small white teeth chewed nervously at her lower lip. Kane was grateful Mack was in the shower. This particular look would have him flinging himself right out the window. “How long do you think you’ll have to stay?”

Kane shrugged casually. “A couple of weeks, a month. The truth is, little Jaimie, we need a base anyway. Now that Mack knows you’ve permanently settled here, even when we clear up the trouble, he’s going to want to stay.”

“I’m not going back to that life, Kane.”

“I know that, honey. Mack knows it too. That doesn’t mean we aren’t family.”