He'd face that later. And pray that by then he could remember all the reasons why he shouldn't lay her back on that water bed and rediscover every inch of her.
First priority, arm Mary Elise with a weapon.
Hooking his hands under the end of the sofa, Daniel hefted the far edge a couple feet to the right. He flipped back the edge of the brown braid rug and knelt, working his fingers down the ridges in the boarded floor.
"Danny?"
"Shhh." He waved her silent as he concentrated on finding … bull's eye.
He pried three loose boards up, revealing, just as Max promised, a small gun safe. Spinning up the combination, Daniel opened the door. A gasp sounded from behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
"I just didn't expect to see that."
He tracked her wide-eyed gaze down to the two handguns—a Browning M9 and a .45 automatic—surrounded by stacks of ammunition. "What do you think we do for a living?"
"You fly planes. Spike investigates. I mean, well, I figured you took a gun with you on missions or assignments, like the one in your closet. I just didn't expect to see all of this here, too."
"Maybe Spike packs a little more firepower than some of us. But like a cop, a military serviceman is never off duty." He dug out ammo and tossed it on the sofa. Sitting on the couch, he checked and began loading both weapons.
She eased down beside him. "Never off duty?"
"Back when you were working for the paper," he answered without taking his eyes off his task, "if you got a three-day weekend, you could hop a plane and go anywhere you wanted as long as you were back at work on time."
"Yeah. So?"
"If I travel outside the area, I have to apply for official leave and let admin know where I'll be at all times. Even on a weekend."
"Why?"
"We may not sit alert anymore, but we're always on call, 24/7." He pressed bullets into the magazine. Click. Click. Click against the spring action. "If the world goes to hell, we have to be ready to roll."
She sank down beside him. "How can you live that way?"
"How can I not?" With the heel of his palm, he jammed the magazine home on the 9 mm.
That she even had to ask the question offered a great big reason why he should reconsider a mattress dance with this woman.
"Darcy said you have … connections."
"She did?" His fingers paused in loading the .45, a damned big gun with even bigger stopping power.
"What kind of connections?"
He didn't answer. Couldn't. More reasons to avoid sleeping with anyone he genuinely cared about.
Whoa. Back up, Echoes of emotionally unavailable ricocheted like an out-of-control bullet in his skull.
"Danny?"
"I fly airplanes."
She waited.
He rolled a bullet between two fingers. "There's a lot more to being in the military than fighting wars, and that includes things we can't talk about. At times we walk out the door with no indication of where we're going or when we'll be home. Some of those missions bring connections."
End of discussion. He had more current concerns, anyway. Like keeping her alive.