Men were screaming now, a roar of a lion echoed through her head. Lion? Good God, was it one of the Feline Breeds or a real lion? It sure sounded real.
Cement splattered inches from her, a hole tearing into the floor as she pushed Merinus deeper into the shadows of the porch and the dubious protection of a woodpile that had been stacked to the side. There wasn’t a chance in hell of making it to the door, and from the angle of the gunfire even less a chance of making it around the side of the house.
“Taber!” Her screams joined the frantic cries from the yard.
“We have one down! One down!”
Roni turned back to look into the yard, watching the workers scatter, one of them hauling a wounded man on his back as they rushed for shelter. There was very little. Gunfire rattled off then. The rat-a-tat-tat of automatic weapons, the single sharp bursts of revolvers. And still, wood and cement flew around them as she sheltered Merinus’ unconscious body. She could smell her own blood, feel the tearing pain in her shoulder from a bullet, the crawling of her flesh as she lay over Merinus, fighting to keep the deadly little missiles from tearing into Merinus’ body, harming her or the child she had spoken of so tenderly.
Men were everywhere, but none close enough, or in position to reach them and drag the other woman to safety. Roni heaved a sobbing breath, screaming out Taber’s name again as another volley of gunfire came much too close for comfort. She felt the wood tearing loose from the side of the porch just above her head, raining into her hair as she hunched protectively over the other woman.
“Roni!” Nothing had sounded sweeter than Taber’s voice at the moment. She lifted her head, watching in amazement as he came sailing over the low rock wall that separated the grounds from the outer working area. In his hands he carried a lethal, powerful M-16, spraying a round of gunfire over the heads of the fleeing workmen into the area the enemy fire was coming from. At the same time, the terrible roar she had heard earlier sounded again. Behind Taber, Callan cleared the fence as well, but he came unarmed, his expression savage, rage echoing through the animalistic roar as he caught sight of his fallen wife.
Simultaneously the back porch became a haven rather than a trap. Feline Breeds, male and female, placed themselves between the porch and danger, guns blasting as Taber and Callan rushed for them. Taber snatched Roni from her position in a surge of strength that amazed her, keeping her off her feet as he threw them both into the open doorway of the kitchen. Callan was no more than a half second behind him.
“Doc!” Callan’s enraged, grief-stricken scream echoed around the house as he seemed to fly by them, bearing his unconscious wife in his arms.
“Are you hurt?” Taber rushed behind him, half-carrying Roni as he forced her farther into the house.
“No…”
“Fuck, you’re lying to me!” He must have seen the blood. “Come on. Downstairs. You’ll be safe there.”
Safe. Her head was swimming, her shoulder was throbbing like hell and all she wanted to do was have him throw her to the floor now and f**k her until she screamed. She moaned in defeat. At this rate, she would be pregnant before three days were up. No more heat, no more bond, and Taber would be gone again. Just as before.
Chapter Eighteen
Well, it was official. Mor**ine didn’t ease the mating heat, either. But at least the symptoms were a shade more bearable. The good doctor was able to check her shoulder and dress the flesh wound quickly as they all kept a careful eye on Merinus.
The other woman had finally awakened, none the worse for wear. The force of the wood that had hit her temple had merely rendered her unconscious for a while. There was minor bleeding but no complications that the doctor could see.
Callan wasn’t listening, though. He sat beside the small hospital gurney, his body hunched over the bed, arms wrapped around his wife as he held onto her protectively. His large hands ran over her tangled hair, her back, the slight mound of her abdomen where, the doctor assured them, the babe rested safe and sound.
His voice was broken, hoarse with emotion as Merinus tried to soothe the fury trembling through his body. Twice she had been forced to whimper, a more than obvious fake sound of pain, to keep him from rushing back outside when news came that the assassins were contained. Two were dead; another was alive but wounded. Doc Martin had not yet moved to treat the mercenary locked in one of the empty supply sheds.
“Matter of priorities,” he had said calmly when she asked him about the doctor’s oath he had taken.
“Besides, if that one dies, there’ll be more to take his place.”
There was a hatred so unforgiving within the older man that Roni shivered at the force of it. Taber had said very little. He had held her as her shoulder was bandaged and still hadn’t moved but inches from her side as she lay on her stomach, fighting exhaustion and arousal. He smelled too damned good and she was so tired.
“Take your wife to her bed, Callan,” Doc finally said wearily as Callan’s head rose, his body still trembling in reaction. “She needs to rest. And you need to assure yourself all is fine. The danger is over for now. Same for you, Taber.” He turned back to Roni. “Take her upstairs and care for her. Tomorrow is time enough to worry of other things.”
Martin’s shoulders were slumped, his voice tired and so filled with sadness Roni wanted to weep for him. As he moved away from the bed, Callan rose from the chair he had pulled to Merinus’ bed and approached Roni slowly. As she looked into his eyes, she knew this was a man she never wanted to
cross.
The golden-brown orbs were almost a full amber, glittering with an animal savagery that she knew wouldn’t hesitate to kill.
“I know I can’t touch you,” he sighed as he approached her, going to one knee in front of her and looking up at her. “I know what you did, covering her body with your own. My men were screaming the information at me as I ran for that damned porch. If I could hug you, I would. If I had riches, I would bestow them upon you. If I had anything to show you the gift you gave me in saving her life, then it would be yours.”
His voice was soft, throbbing with all the pent-up emotion that he was fighting.
“Morphine’s a great little drug,” she whispered conspiratorially, lying through her teeth. “I didn’t even feel a twinge when the doc dressed the wound. You can hug me if you need to.”
A small smile tilted his lips, involuntary and chastising. “You are still the little imp you always were,” he told her gently, shaking his finger at her. “I know better. I could smell your pain as the doctor worked on you, and it flayed my soul to know that it had happened. She would have been defenseless…” He swallowed tightly.