I rappelled after him and felt his hands at my waist to lower me the last few feet. Reaching down, I untied the rope from the hose spigot, then pulled and pulled until the section we’d just used to lower ourselves went up to the roof and around the vent to fall to my feet.
Collecting the entire rope, I tucked it under my arm as best I could, but Hayes snagged it from me. He took my wrist and pulled me away from the house. He wasn’t running, but his legs were much longer than mine. I had to move all out to keep up.
“Package received,” he murmured, his gaze scanning the darkness. I assumed I was the package, and he had some fancy communications device on him. I guessed SEALs were never alone. “Extraction in five minutes.”
I didn’t know who he was talking to, but it seemed I wasn’t the only one used to late-night missions. He skirted the back of the property, around the large patio and landscaped backyard to the field beyond.
A coyote howled in the distance, but other than that, it was silent. I didn’t know how a man of his size could move so silently, but he was a SEAL.
We moved for a few minutes. From my visit earlier, I knew we were doing a wide arc around the property and aiming for the road. We hit the packed dirt and an engine started nearby. An SUV stopped before us, lights off. Hayes opened the rear door and all but pushed me in. He tossed the rope into my lap then climbed in beside me.
On my other side was Kennedy. Ford and Taft were in the front.
The SUV sped off.
“Hey there, Deputy,” Taft said. “You’ve got some fancy moves.”
“If you’re looking for a job outside of law enforcement…” Ford told me but left it hanging.
Kennedy winked. “Welcome to the team.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
HAYES
“Are you pissed?” Megan asked as I parked her Subaru in her driveway. Her voice is quiet and unsure, which is not something I like. I like her ballsy and prickly, and I admit, stealthily stealing a stupid historic knife and getting out undetected.
She could be a SEAL or in the circus.
We’d picked up her car after we extracted her from the heist location, and I had insisted on driving. I was all for my woman taking care of herself, but I drove. End of story.
I hadn’t said anything on the ride back to town. I was the kind of guy who went silent when a lot was going on in my head, and I didn’t know where to start.
“Not pissed.” I climbed out of the car and strode to her door, which I’d left unlocked when I dashed out earlier. Sure, shit could have gotten stolen, but the only thing I worried about inside her house was Megan herself. Since she hadn’t been there and instead had been breaking into a fucking house…
She followed me in. “Because you seem kind of pissed.”
She carefully removed the five-million-dollar dagger from her hip pocket and put it in her gun safe.
I kept walking until I got to the bedroom–the place where she’d tried to keep me from following her just a few hours ago. It felt like a lifetime, already.
I toed off my boots then stripped out of my shirt.
Megan surveyed the broken headboard. “Guess it takes more than a pair of puny handcuffs to stop a SEAL.”
I grunted in response.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said when I didn’t respond further.
“Yeah.” I followed her into the bathroom. Washing off the night's deed suited me, too.
We didn’t say a word as we stood under the shower spray together. Her tub was fucking tiny. I let her soap me then took the bar from her and returned the favor. She watched me all the while, her brows knit tight.
It was the most attentive she’d been to me. Usually, I was the one focused on her, and she was deflecting. I was up in my head, trying to figure out what I had to do or say or be to finally get through to her. To show her I was going to stick. She couldn’t stop me from coming for her, no matter what she tried to do to me.
Handcuffs to me were nothing more than part of a magician’s act.
If what happened wasn’t enough to drive that concept home for her, I had no fucking clue what would.
I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel for Megan. Her eyes went soft at the gesture, like me handing it to her meant something. Like I wouldn’t always take care of her needs first, until the day I died.
She was fucking surprised I was here. That I was being nice. That I was her man. And that confusion was my fucking issue.