by Zoe Dawson
“So, you ever thought about going Tier 1 and attempting Green Team?” Professor asked as he kept his eyes roving ahead of them.
There wasn’t anything equivalent of a Tier 1 operator on the SBS, and Dodger had thought maybe after he’d done his time in Team Seven, he might try out for DEVGRU, The Naval Special Warfare Development Group, formerly known as the famous SEAL Team 6.
Saint chuckled. “You’re just a wet behind the ears baby SEAL, boy. Pace yourself.”
“I was just curious. I think all of us have aspirations to become Tier 1 operators.”
Saint shrugged his big shoulders. “I’m content where I am. You not happy with your team?”
“Hell, yes. Our LT is the best freaking leader and my teammates, Gator, a Cajun badass, Blitz, who gave up football to become a SEAL, Buck, a Texan, descended from a legacy of Texas Rangers, D-Day, WWII royalty, Zorro, who can both flamenco dance and play a mean guitar, and Bear, this indomitable Native American who always has this deep wisdom that makes you think hard are all kick-ass. They all enjoy ribbing the new guys but recognize true leadership when they see it.”
Dodger knew that Professor’s LT was Lieutenant Adrian Lane, the officer from their BUD/S class. The only other guy Dodger knew on Professor’s team was Zephirin “Gator” LaBauve. His Cajun roots went deep into the Louisiana Bayou, but he was still a hardcore, true blue American.
“Well, you know the drill. Whenever you want to do something you have to fill out a special form, but you’ll need five years in before you can apply.”
“Yeah,” Dodger said. “You can’t scratch your balls without a special form.”
Anna huffed a small laugh as if she had been caught off guard and so didn’t want to find him funny.
“You were in the SBS, right?” Professor said.
Anna turned to look at Dodger. “SBS?”
But it was Professor who answered. “Special Boat Service. UK’s special forces badasses. They’re an elite group equivalent to the SEALs since they carry out maritime counter-terrorism like we do.”
“Whatever I did with SBS is classified. I don’t talk about it.”
“Hoo-yah,” Professor said. “Not even to us.”
“Classified is classified, mate.”
“Copy that.”
Saint stopped. “This is it.” He moved faster and they rushed into an open area. Dodger inched back a little and pushed up his night vision goggles, shining a flashlight, but saw nothing but a mass of green.
“Could it be any darker?” Anna asked, frustration in her tone, as he walked the edge of the small clearing. Softly rounded boulders edged along the shore, worn away from the flooding, looking like beached whales in the dark.
Anna climbed the dense plants, over a rock, then turned back as Dodger pushed at branches, used his foot to trample brush, looking for any evidence that Max had been here.
Something white caught his eye and he crouched down. He reached out and picked it up with his glove.
“He was here,” he said as the other three crowded around him.
“Oh, God,” Anna murmured, her eyes taking on a sheen in the moonlight, shaking her head.
It was Kerlix and it was soaked in blood. Max’s blood. Dodger’s throat closed up, and he took a deep breath.
“There’s a trail,” Professor said as Dodger turned his head and saw the two rows of scratches on the ground, leading off into the deep jungle.
“What the hell…” Dodger said just as all hell broke loose. Gunfire sounded and there was an explosion. He was thrown and when he hit, darkness was absolute.
9
He listened to the two women splashing out there until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d ended up in the spare bedroom off the study. He walked to the window and peeked out. Carolina and Renata, her hair pulled ruthlessly back into braids, bounced a beachball between them, apparently trying to keep the ball out of the water as long as possible. He was much too fixated on her as he watched her breasts bounce along with the ball in that skimpy black bikini.
Jugs whined from the bed, but Max refused to allow him to mix in like he was a family pet. He needed to take back the leash and remind Jugs they were working, not vacationing. Now that he was getting his clarity back after the fever had fully left him, he couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. “No, pal. You’re staying put.”
Jugs grumbled as if he was calling Max a bad name, and he wasn’t sure that grousing rumble wasn’t Malinois-speak for bastard.
He knew he wasn’t thinking straight right now, and most of it had to do with Renata. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and keeping it simple might just be the death of him. He was standing in the shadows watching her, dressed only in his skivvies, semi-hard and pathetic.
Behind him, Jugs rose from the mattress and jumped down. His attention was focused at the door. His ears were pricked and his focus feral, then he started to growl. Max went for his weapon and was out of the room and to the pool area like lightning. Neither woman reacted. Both of them had seen him naked many times.
He motioned for the women to get out of the pool. They complied, their wet feet slapping against the concrete deck. He stepped in front of them protectively when a male teenager with a shock of dark hair and muddy boots came around the house, holding the reins of a horse that trailed behind him. Jugs barked and the kid stopped. When he spied Max, he immediately held up his hands, talking in rapid Spanish.
“Diego?” Carolina said, as she peeked around Max’s broad torso.
"Sí, Doctor! Buenas noches. Es nuestro toro, Santiago. Está muy enfermo y necesitamos su ayuda esta noche. Ahora. ¿Puede venir conmigo?"
“Yes, I can come right now.” She explained quickly that their prized bull was ill. “I’ll take my horse.” She turned and addressed Diego in Spanish, telling him to saddle her horse for her, then she faced them again. “I may be gone all night.”
“Are you sure?” Max said, calling Jugs off. “Is it safe?”
“Of course, it’s safe. Don’t worry. I’ll be with Diego. He knows this area very well.” She ran to get changed, and once she emerged from her bedroom in dry clothes with riding boots on her feet, she grabbed the black bag by the door.
“Stay safe, Carolina,” Renata called. Carolina responded with a quick wave. “She is something else.”
“Yeah, you were lucky to have stumbled across this beautiful place with that beautiful soul.”
She turned her gaze on him, her face showing her surprise at his words. She was shivering slightly.
“Why don’t you jump in the shower and change?” he said. “What you’re wearing isn’t helping this simple pact between us.”
When she moved, he moved with her. She stopped and he came up against her back, immediately having to regain his balance. All that gorgeous skin was just there, and his hands went around her waist to keep her from falling. She had the silkiest skin, and there was so much of it on display, all bare legs, bare arms, those lovely shoulders, the amazing cleavage.
She took in a hard breath and said, “Why are you following me?”
“I can’t think of a single safe place for you to be except with me.”
“Oh,” she said. “You think we’re in danger?”
“It doesn’t hurt anyone to be vigilant, does it?”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She shrugged. “I think that will make me feel better too.”
“Good, because it wasn’t debatable,” he said.
She stiffened and he nudged her forward.
Inside the room, Jugs looked happy to be back. He curled up on the carpet and promptly went to sleep. If anything stirred outside, his alarm dog would let him know. He sat in a chair across from the bed, the entrance to the bathroom to the left of the headboard.
She ducked inside. There was no door to close, so he heard wet clothes plop onto the floor, the water go on. From there, the images of what she looked like flowed and he couldn’t stop that flow.
“What you made me say in the
barn. That kinda threw me for a loop.”
“What I made you say?” He was drowning, and the opportunity to talk to her was a lifeline he latched onto.
“You don’t remember?” she said, sounding like she was getting annoyed.
This was a woman thing. That hide-the-real-reason-she-was-pissed game. He was straightforward and blunt. “Does it have to do with the helmet?” he guessed.
“Yes,” she ground out and it was official. She was getting angry.
“Renata, just tell me what’s going on. I don’t have the inclination or the energy to play twenty questions.”
“God, you can be such a jerk.”
“Give it to me straight, then I know how to respond. Otherwise this is just pussyfooting around.”
The water stopped and he could only guess she was drying off. Her silence was making him wonder if she was done talking to him. But then the blow dryer came on and stayed on for a bit. When it finally went off, she materialized at the doorway wrapped in nothing but white terry cloth.
His pulse jumped along with his dick at the sheer beauty of all those black, exploding curls.
“I thought I had everything worked out. Leave medicine behind me, leave all that pressure and those damn expectations in the dust.” She stared at him for a few moments, her eyes giving nothing away. But he sensed a deep discontentment in her, as if she were enduring some inner struggle. “Now, I have to admit that all my excuses for leaving medicine are just that…excuses. Tending to you…operating again, it’s made me realize that I haven’t been honest with myself.” She leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes, and arching her gorgeous neck.
He couldn’t stay where he was. She drew him beyond his will as she struggled with her own personal breakdown. He went to her. Soul-searching wasn’t really his thing. But she was making him question his own tenet in life. Limitless thinking. In the barn, he had to wonder if it was really the nonsense about combat hookups, or if he was scared to take a step with Renata. She’s a woman of substance. And that did scare him, because he was getting wrapped up in her.
She huffed out a soft breath, her laughter bitter. “I just wanted to be free and not feel trapped all the time. I wanted a job without ghosts and legacies. There’s a comfort in being reborn, in starting fresh, just as there are supreme drawbacks. Like guilt for not living up to the Hippocratic Oath, like leaving people I know I could help, maybe save.” She raised her hands and stared at them. “Like losing your father because you thought he would disapprove, and it was just easier to tune out.”
Max searched her upturned face, and the impact of her confession clutched at his chest. He grasped her hand and she squeezed back. “Maybe it’s just as you thought.”
“I wish that were true. I’m anything if not brutally honest with myself.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“Maybe I made a mistake. Anthropology was a closet to hide in, a love that I enjoyed, but I don’t think it’s my calling. Oh, God,” she whispered. “This is all your fault.”
“I’m sorry, Renata. I truly am. I was only pushing you because your words didn’t ring true…dammit. I’m doing it again.”
Life was complicated, a real fucking mess most of the time. He couldn’t avoid it—simple wouldn’t suffice—not now that he’d met her.
He was a fraud.
His thinking wasn’t limitless at all. He was locked into his own fear of getting involved, working at a relationship, dealing with the stuff that came with it. Ninety percent of SEALs got divorced. That was a cold hard fact. He wasn’t sure he could survive that kind of heartache.
She had saved him and maybe he could save her. He knew what she needed, and he knew he was the only guy on the whole planet who did. What she needed was standing right in front of her.
He was it.
Mad Max Keegan.
The one and only.
He pressed closer to her and lowered his head to hers, resting his forehead on her brow. She hit his chest and he let her vent her anger and her pain, let her until instead of pounding his chest, she was flattening her hands against him.
“Max…” she whispered, burying her face in the curve of his neck. “Oh, Max.”
“I’ve got you, babe.”
He kissed the top of her head, let his lips slide over the silken mass of her curls, pulling her closer.
“Max…” She gripped him tighter, buried herself deeper, clinging to him. “Max. Oh, Max.” She loosened her hold on him, and her arms came up and around his neck.
He welcomed the sweet feel of her against him as her tears let loose. She wasn’t weeping. She was just crying soundlessly, nearly motionless in his arms now. The tears were against his neck, baptizing his skin, breaking his heart.
Damn, but life could be so freaking tough, even for a tough cookie.
And yet it had to be lived, every day, in every way, over and over again until the end, and if a guy was blessed, he’d give up his stupid fears and give himself over to a complex woman, somebody who turned him inside out.
“Renata,” he said her name to settle her, bringing her back to him.
She slid her arms farther around his neck, and he kissed her cheek.
“I’m sorry this is causing you so much pain,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her again, and he felt her soften against him.
There was no way he was going to get his rocks off without her acknowledging to him it was sex she wanted. He needed to ease her pain, to remind her there was life, always, the flame of it burning deep inside, to give her pleasure and ease her mind.
Talk about being selfless. Yeah, he was the poster boy.
He wanted to fuck her so sweet, make her come apart in his arms, to make her his. He wanted to come so deep inside her, to claim her.
He opened his mouth on her neck and slid one hand down over the curve of her hip to pull her closer, to bring her up against him, and she turned her face into his neck and softly brushed her lips across the skin she’d made wet with her tears.
It was enough.
He kissed her neck, using his teeth so gently, licking her and then sliding his mouth to hers and kissing her deep, angling his head to get more of her. His hand moved to the knot between her breasts and he worked it free until there was nothing but hot skin between them. Then he did what he had wanted to do for so long, ever since he saw those tantalizing tips pressing against wet, white cotton.
He cupped her breasts, and she arched her back in the way that would get any man hard.
Caressing his thumbs over her nipples, he dipped his head to take the softest of soft peaks into his mouth where he turned that softness into hard, aching peaks. Her hands roved over him, over his arms, his uninjured ribs, his waist, and up to his chest.
He swept his open mouth down her breast to her rib cage, then farther down her silken body until he was kneeling in front of her.
He had been falling for her this whole time, unaware that it was something more than lust that drove him. The scent and loveliness of her went straight to his head. Nothing was better. Leaning forward, he pressed his tongue to her hot, sweet center, and he teased her, licked her, swirled as she softly ground her hips against him and tunneled her fingers through his hair.
“Max…” His name was a sigh on her lips, her body a silken, tangible force in his arms.
She spread her legs wider, and he slipped his fingers up inside her. She was so soft, so wet, with such aching promise. She electrified him, turning him on, getting him so hot and hard. He plied her with his tongue, loving the taste of her, the little catches in her breath, and the way she was holding him to her, tighter and tighter.
“Max…”
“Give it to me, babe.” He wanted it so badly, to make her come undone, to make her feel so good. He wanted her to know he was her man, the one she needed, the one who could take her higher than ever before.
Her sighs grew rougher, more guttural, and he was relentless and tireless working her over again and ag
ain, until her soft cries turned into a moan, until she pressed herself against his mouth and held herself there, her hips rocking and the contractions of her release rippling through her.
When she collapsed against the wall, he rose to his feet and shoved his briefs down to the floor.
“Look at me, Renata,” he growled. When her eyes met his, he fitted himself to her and pushed up inside. No hesitation. No thoughts. It was mind-bending. She was so hot and slick, taking all of him on his first thrust, to the hilt.
He hauled in a ragged breath. His eyes still on hers as he pulled out and shoved back in again, watching as her eyes filled with pleasure. A galvanizing charge sizzled between them as their gazes locked, foraging a connection that made his chest tight as he retreated, then thrust into her.
“Oh, Max…Max…” she whispered, her hands clutching onto his biceps, her nails digging into his skin.
She searched his gaze, hungry for contact from him, and he gave it to her, feeling fierce and on fire.
“Kiss me,” she begged, and he lowered his head, her mouth soft and wet, sucking on him, sucking on his tongue, then deepening the kiss. Between them, he found her core and stroked her with his thumb, watching the sparks shoot inside her eyes as they went glassy and unfocused. He watched every flicker of pleasure that crossed her face.
Then he got lost in her body, in the sensations of her climax as she convulsed around him, squeezing him with pulses so sweet. His hands went to her hips, his fingers digging deep into her flesh, dragging her just a bit closer, his mouth on hers, his tongue deep inside, his thrusts moving faster. His dick was so hard, the pleasure rampaging through him, pulling him closer and closer to the edge. She bit his bottom lip, making him groan and buck higher. She cried out as he thrust against a deep place inside her. She tightened her fingers in his hair and held on as she arched her back, taking him over the edge, groaning, growling, as he pistoned inside her while coming in a shuddering fury.
His whole body trembling, Max clenched his jaw, his heart still slamming in his chest, the intensity of his release leaving him totally spent. The feel of her tight around him, gripping him, anchoring him deep inside her felt so good.