Maya Banks - Forged in Steele

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Steele. I love you so much. I’ll marry you whenever and however you want. I’ll elope to Vegas if that’s what you want. As long as the end result is that you’re my husband and I belong to you, nothing else matters.”

He captured her lips in a long, seeking kiss. It wasn’t as gentle as before and he poured the depth of his emotion into it. His love with every breath. Their tongues tangled and he sucked and licked at her lips, tasting and nibbling as he explored every inch of her mouth.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you.”

“That’s good, because I plan on keeping you around for a very long time. I did the impossible.”

He reared back, giving her a puzzled look.

“I took down the ice man,” she said with a smile.

He grinned back. “Damn straight you did.”

“WHY’D you do it, Hancock?” Steele asked bluntly.

He was standing by Hancock’s bed, and the man looked like shit. He’d already been beat to hell and back by Maksimov’s henchmen, and that was before taking a bullet and then being pulverized in the helicopter crash.

Hancock slowly trained his gaze on Steele, steadily regarding him. Steele engaged in the staredown, neither man speaking as they felt each other out.

“You complaining because I saved your woman?” Hancock asked mockingly.

“I owe you,” Steele said grudgingly. “And I’m sure you’ll collect.”

“Oh, I’ll call my marker in. One day,” Hancock said. “But for now you can rest easy. I’m out of commission for a while, and then I’m going after Maksimov.”

“Who do you work for, Hancock? I can’t figure you out. One minute you’re a flaming asshole and the next you’re Captain Fucking America.”

Hancock made a derisive sound. “I leave the Captain America crap to your KGI. We all have the same job, Steele. We just have different ways of getting it done. You think your missions are righteous. I think mine are. Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Does it really fucking matter who I work for? It probably sticks in your throat, but we’re on the same side. We just have different methods. And while you work strictly for Uncle Sam and the private sector, I work for the greater good. That’s not always Uncle Sam. Vipers are everywhere. Your government isn’t immune.”

“My government? It’s your government too,” Steele pointed out.

Hancock’s face became stony. “I don’t claim a government that when it decided for political reasons that they no longer wanted to risk Titan becoming a liability, we became expendable. They labeled us traitors and did their damnedest to take us out. But they were the traitors. Selling out and fucking over the American people. My government? No fucking way.”

“And yet you take missions to bring down people who are a direct threat to national security,” Steele said.

“I don’t give a fuck about politicians and bureaucrats. But I do care about innocent lives, American and non-American. The world is a better place without Farnsworth. Without Caldwell. And it’ll sure as hell be a better place without Maksimov. You may not agree with my methods, but in the end, our goals are the same.”

Steele frowned, not liking that Hancock had a point. Steele was no Boy Scout, and he could hardly point the finger at Hancock when he himself had made choices steeped in shadows.

“Take care of yourself,” Steele said grudgingly.

Hancock cocked an eyebrow. “You and the doc out of here?”

“Yeah, I’m taking her home.”

Something flickered in Hancock’s eyes, but it was gone almost before Steele registered the slight reaction.

“I’ll look you up when I want to call in that marker,” Hancock said.

“Just make damn sure you don’t bring trouble to my doorstep,” Steele warned. “I won’t hesitate to take you out if you pose any danger to my family.”

“Duly noted.”

Steele turned and started to walk out and then paused at the door. He swiveled around to find Hancock still watching him.

“You got a way out of this place when they cut you loose?”

Hancock’s brows rose mockingly. “You offering me a ride?”

“Don’t be a dick. You’re a lone wolf. If you need a place . . .” Steele broke off, indecision gripping him. But the man had saved Maren. Three times if you counted the fact that he’d gotten her out before Caldwell went completely off the deep end. “If you need somewhere to crash until you recover, you’re welcome at my place.”

Hancock stared back at Steele for a long moment, and Steele could swear that he’d actually caught the other man off guard.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” Hancock murmured.

STEELE waited nervously at the end of the aisle, anxious for Maren to make her appearance. They’d decided to marry in the church the Kellys had attended for generations. It was a perfect church. Old, whitewashed, something out of the eighteen hundreds. There was a cemetery in back with headstones dating back hundreds of years.

Everyone was there, and by “everyone,” he literally meant everyone who meant anything to Maren and him. The entire Kelly clan had gathered, Rusty and Sean included. Skylar and Edge were there as was Rio and his entire team.

Steele’s team stood with him. Every single one of them. They were all acting as his best men. P.J. was there, the only difference was that she stood across the aisle on the bride’s side, along with the Kelly wives, all of whom Maren had asked to stand with her.

Maren’s brother and mother sat on the front pew of the bride’s side. Everyone else filled the church, not paying attention to which side they sat on. They were each important to both Steele and Maren, no differentiation was made.

Steele’s breath caught and held when the doors at the end of the aisle opened and there stood Maren, on the arm of her father, looking so beautiful that he was dumbstruck. Music played in the background, but it didn’t fully register. All he was focused on was that Maren was slowly walking down the aisle. To him.

When Maren and her father reached the front of the church, just a few feet from where Steele stood, her father kissed her cheek, tears glittering brightly in his eyes. Maren hadn’t worn a veil, and Steele was glad because he didn’t want any part of her beautiful face obscured. He wanted to see her eyes, see the love for him shining in their depths.

Her father then took her hand, pulling her toward Steele. As Steele reached to take her from her father, Matthew Scofield said to Steele, in a low voice, “You are getting one of my greatest blessings in my life. Take care of her and love her always.”

“Yes, sir,” Steele said gravely. “She is my life.”

Nodding his satisfaction, her father stepped back and went to join Maren’s mother and brother in the front pew.

And there was Maren. Standing next to him, so radiant and breathtaking that it was like being punched in the stomach. Her smile lit up the entire church. There was such joy and . . . peace . . . in her eyes. And love. Most of all love. All for him. It still awed him. This woman loved him, accepted him. She had his back and was fiercely protective of him. For God’s sake, it was his job, his duty, his honor to protect and love her, but damned if she wasn’t just as fiercely protective of him. She amazed him every single day, and he’d never take that love and support for granted. It was a gift he’d cherish for the rest of his life and beyond.

He hadn’t wanted to wait to marry her. He’d wanted her tied to him the minute she was released from the hospital, but she’d wanted to wait until they were both completely healed. She’d been adamant that she wasn’t walking down the aisle with a sling, nor would he marry her with broken ribs and his fingers in a splint.

So they’d spent their recovery together at his home in peace and solitude, discovering each other more with each passing day, confirming their growing love. Those days were special, ones he wouldn’t trade for anything. And now he was glad they’d waited, because he wanted nothing to interfere with their honeymoon. And he was definitely taking her on a honeymoon. Just the two of them. Somewhere private where he could spend his days making love to her with no impediments.

His gaze dropped to the now discernible bulge at her waist and he felt the betraying sting of tears. God, he couldn’t lose it. Not now. Not on the most important day of his life. He couldn’t lose it in front of his team and the others. But she undid him. The knowledge of their daughter resting in her womb overwhelmed him.

Their daughter. Their child. His family.

Maren squeezed his arm, her eyes softening, almost as if she knew exactly what he was feeling. Then she nodded toward the waiting minister, indicating they were all waiting for him to proceed.

It was then that he defied convention. He knew there were set rules about ceremonies. Hell, they’d even had a rehearsal—as if he needed to be coached on how to marry a woman that meant the world to him.

But none of that mattered. He couldn’t go another moment without holding her. Without kissing her and telling her he loved her. Now. Right now. Even before their vows.

He pulled her into his arms so that their child was solidly between them. His throat closed in when he felt the faint patter of a kick, almost as if their daughter understood what was happening. He lowered his mouth to Maren’s, kissing her softly at first and then more deeply, allowing every emotion to bleed into that kiss.

She sighed into his mouth. He heard light chuckles from the pews, but he ignored everything but the gorgeous woman in his arms. Shining brighter than the sun. Her love for him. There was nothing that compared.

The only thing lacking from this day was his own family. His parents and his brother, Griffin. But somehow he knew they were up there, smiling down on him and Maren and their daughter. He knew his father would be proud of him. He knew his mother would have loved Maren as much as he did.

When he finally pulled away, there must have been something in his eyes that told Maren what he was thinking. She reached up, ignoring protocol every bit as much as he was, and stroked her hand over his cheek and then down to his jaw.

“They’re here,” she whispered. “They’ve always been with you. And though I know you love and miss them, you do have family. Everyone here.”

She turned, gesturing to the assembled congregation, her smile warm and soft and so filled with love.

“They’re all your family. Mine too. We’re lucky, Steele. So very lucky. And now you have me and our daughter. You’ll always have us.”

The minister cleared his throat and there were smiles from his team and the Kelly wives who stood on either side of Maren and Steele, but he ignored them again as he pulled Maren to him one last time. The last time he’d hold her before they were officially pronounced man and wife.

“I love you,” he said fiercely. “Of anything I ever give you, know this above all else: You will always have my love.”

She smiled back, uncaring as he was that they were holding up the ceremony. “And you’ll always have mine, Jackson Steele. Now, what do you say we get married?”

TWO MONTHS LATER

Steele stood anxiously by Maren’s bedside, her fingers firmly entwined with his as she breathed through another contraction. God, how much longer would this go on? He’d been there when Rachel Kelly had delivered the twins, but it hadn’t taken this long, had it?

No, she’d had a C-section. It hadn’t taken but a few hours. Maren had been in labor for eighteen hours. Eighteen of the longest hours of his goddamn life. She had to be suffering. Her face was pale and sweaty, and yet she looked utterly serene, her eyes warm and full of love, even as she breathed through her contractions. She was taking this a hell of a lot better than he was, because he was about to lose his mind.

“How much longer?” he demanded, turning to the nurse.

The nurse smiled indulgently as if she were well used to harried husbands in the delivery room.

“Not long. She’s fully dilated. The doctor is on his way now.”

“He needs to hurry the hell up,” Steele muttered. “What if he doesn’t make it in time?”

Maren laughed and he marveled that she could possibly find amusement when her body was wracked with pain and she was exhausted from the long labor.