by Zoe Dawson
Wisps of a dream faded in his mind when Max surfaced from sleep, half-conscious of the soft weight of Renata sprawled over him. Her upper body was across his chest, her face buried in his throat, her hair a live wild mass surrounding him. He shifted and stirred, a sense of rightness warming him as he licked his lips and opened his eyes. The room was still dark, and Renata was sound asleep, but he knew from his internal clock it was early morning. The mental fog slowly cleared, then he carefully wrapped his arms around her sleeping form. He brushed a lingering kiss against her forehead, smiling a little when she made a soft sound and turned her face toward his warmth. If only things could be that simple.
Brushing back the heavy curls across her face, he kissed her again, settling his arm along her slender hips. He stared into the darkness thinking about what happened last night. He had received something from her that he had never expected. An emotional gift.
But what left his gut in a knot was that she had lost it the way she had. In the time that he’d known her, she never got flustered, she never panicked.
There was a coolness, a kind of control in her that he admired. Maybe because he was a hothead who had to temper his own anger, stop flying off the handle and listen more.
She was dealing with some heavy-duty stuff, so there was no surprise that she would have melted down. He thought that was a good thing because holding it inside wasn’t a good idea.
Then he’d told her he loved her, never expecting to hear it back. He lightly brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, then tucked loose curls behind her ear. He wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to do without her once he got back to the States. He closed his eyes as the heated memories from last night flamed through him. He fought the urge to draw her against him. He’d go for a run and give his body the workout he’d been neglecting after his injury.
She stirred when he eased away from her, and he leaned over and brushed a light kiss against her temple.
“It’s okay, babe,” he whispered gruffly. “Go back to sleep.” He tucked the covers over her, easing from the bed. Making as little noise as possible, he got dressed and went into the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the most pathetic of all.” He shook his head. He was a freaking goner, and no matter how much he wanted her to choose him, he wanted her to be happy more. That fragile look on her face bothered the hell out of him. He had never seen her like that before—breakable. Maybe they all were to some extent, and shoring up the cracks and forging ahead was all that they could do.
She’d decimated his inner defenses. Maybe she was also trying to function around him without her armor. They both had to find a way to deal with the exposure.
Max left the house and took off running. Before he knew it, he was being paced by his brothers.
“Can’t keep up with a wounded man? Slackers.”
Dodger chuckled. “We didn’t get to sleep with something soft and beautiful.”
“Right, he slept,” Professor said with a grin. Saint snickered.
“Get your minds out of the gutter, you wankers,” Dodger said. “I was talking about the bed.”
“Sure, you were, mate,” Max said as they came up alongside him.
“I expected to be sporting a black eye today, maybe even a split lip,” Saint said. “There’s something different about you, Maxie.”
“Yeah, meow.” Professor pantomimed a whip lashing along with the ka-cha sound effects. “He’s pussy-whipped.”
Max chuckled and flipped him off. “Did you just go all high school on me as payback for BUD/S?”
“Nope, just being an asshole. You were actually tough but fair. All those things I said behind your back were just to amuse my fellow BUD/Sters.”
Max glanced at him. “That so? How about you see if you can keep up with me, egghead.”
Max increased his speed, and the four of them stopped talking to concentrate on out-racing each other. By the time they got back to the house, Renata was standing with her shoulder braced against the fence, her arms folded.
“Uh-oh. Looks like you’re in the doghouse, man,” Saint said.
“Max, you’re not fully healed. Running for an hour is a long time after a gunshot wound.”
He smiled. Oh, she was on the warpath all right, but he wasn’t the target.
Saint made a ka-cha sound, and Renata’s gaze focused on him, her eyes narrowed. “You should know better, Petty Officer Bartholomew. Aren’t you the medic?”
Saint’s brows rose. “Whoa, lady. You’re out of line.”
Renata lifted that bad girl chin. Max hid a smile. She was a piece of work. “Am I? Do you think you can take me?” She gave Max a wink. His teammates were all just standing there like fish with their mouths open, buying into her tough girl act.
“I don’t hit women.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “You know, unless they’re trying to kill me.”
“Does that happen often?” Her deadpan delivery cracked Max up. Amusement in her eyes, she said pointedly, “Who said anything about you hitting me?”
Max laughed.
Renata walked up to him and patted his cheek. “I was just messing with you. Breakfast is ready, tough guy.”
Max laughed again.
Dodger threw his head back and laughed.
Professor leaned against the fence. “I like her.”
Max watched her walk back to the house, “Yeah, I do too.”
Dodger stood near the fountain and watched Anna and Professor taking care of the breakfast dishes. The two of them laughed and talked. A feeling of being crowded, of being boxed in, moved in on Dodger, and he didn’t like it one bit.
She was tough, brash and had the ability to frustrate the bloody hell out of him. He’d never been so tempted in his life. Maybe it was because she was off limits, forbidden. Maintaining a bland expression, he sent his eyes over the length of her, taking in her sexy bare legs and smooth, supple thighs that made him crazy. Professor’s admiring looks set Dodger’s teeth on edge. Of course, he wouldn’t be the only guy to be drawn to her.
Her cheeky slender hip was cocked to the side, and she was wearing a pair of cutoff jeans shorts that had been cropped for a shorter woman with a cinnamon T-shirt that had Caliente across the front, molding over her generous breasts.
She leaned over the dishwasher. Every one of her movements was damn sexy and arousing. He wanted to find Max and wrap up this op so he could go back to forgetting her. Yeah, ‘cause that worked so well the last time, mate.
This was on him. The health of the team was too important for him to give in. She handed Professor a dish served up with a dazzling smile no red-blooded man could resist.
She never missed an opportunity to taunt, tease, and provoke him in her never-ending quest to see just how far she could push him before he finally snapped and gave into the heat and attraction simmering between them.
It wasn’t going to happen, he vowed. He’d spent the past two years resisting her, and no way would she ever find out just how much she aroused him and just how badly he wanted her. Doing so would be his biggest downfall.
“How much longer are we going to stay here? We need to get back to Asunción with Max and get the hell out of this country,” Saint said.
Dodger turned. “I don’t know. I let LT know we found Max, but he was reluctant to leave because of the threat to Palmer.”
“Did you get ahold of Shea?”
“No. She didn’t answer. I’ll try again.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“How if looks could kill, poor Professor would be cold stone dead.”
“Oh, sod off, Saint. I don’t have any interest in Anna.”
Saint laughed heartily at that. “You’re a piss-poor liar, Graham. It’s pretty obvious that she makes you hot, bothered, and very tense.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “It would be a dick move.”
Dodger looked at Saint. “You enjoy stating t
he obvious, Zach? I’m aware what crossing the line means.” He wasn’t going to screw up his personal and working relationships with his teammates because he couldn’t keep his hands off Anna.
Carolina walked past with some linens.
“Ma’am, do you have anything I can help with?”
She looked over to Anna and Professor and back to him. She smiled. “Yes, the loft just got a load of new hay and needs to be stacked and cleaned up.”
“Brilliant,” he said. He needed something he could toss around.
Twenty minutes later, stripped down to just his pants, damp with sweat, Dodger stacked bales with speed and precision, the pull on his shoulders hot and sharp. He wasn’t going to think. He’d come out here to Carolina’s loft determined not to, using hard physical labor as a vent for the current situation. Since he couldn’t get drunk or pick a fight, this would work.
It was better than giving in to the attraction that was burning a hole in his gut. Just a few more days and he’d be home free.
Sweat blinded him, and he stopped to yank off his gloves and wiped his unshaven face. He tipped his head back and reached for the bottle of water. Trying to work out the pleasant burn in his shoulders, he exhaled heavily, straightening. He pulled the gloves back on.
He heard a noise behind him and turned around. It was Anna, carrying a sandwich and a glass of tea.
“Thought you might be getting hungry.”
He just grunted as she set it down on one of the bales and he returned to stacking more hay. She didn’t leave as he had hoped. She walked over to a small radio and turned it on. A spicy tune started to play. He released a pent-up breath.
He looked over at her, clenching his teeth as she settled on a bale of hay. “Anna, I’m busy.”
“Yeah, stacking hay is so all consuming you can only seem to communicate in grunts and growls.”
He turned away at her light, saucy tone, trying with all his might to not respond and to hide his amusement. He grunted for emphasis.
She huffed out a laugh. “You are so annoying.”
“You are a pain in my arse,” he said.
“Well, at least that’s something, King of Denial.”
“King of—”
“D-e-n-i-a-l.”
“Does that make you the Queen of O-b-v-i-o-u-s?”
“Maybe if it would get you to stop pretending you don’t feel what I feel.” Suddenly, she was standing right next to him, and she ran her fingertip along his hard jaw, homing in on his lips.
Encircling his fingers around her wrist, he gently drew her hand away from his face and let her arm drop back to her side. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. Nothing’s going to happen between us until you stop being Max’s baby sister or I decide blowing up my team isn’t the worst thing I could ever do to this brotherhood.”
She moved forward, crowding his personal space, setting her hand against his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Max isn’t the boss of me,” she whispered.
He didn’t remove her hand this time, but neither did he touch her in return. Instead his fingers curled into tight fists, and his muscles flexed beneath her hand.
“Don’t go there, Anna,” he said, his voice a rasp of sound in the shadowed loft. But he was wavering, and she knew it. It didn’t help matters that he was keenly aware of the woman, in every way—the warm vanilla scent clinging to her skin, the sound of her captivating laughter, the beauty of her face, and her indomitable spirit. She pressed forward, going up on tiptoe, her lips parting.
The satphone rang and he was never so thankful for a sound in his life. He had been falling off a cliff with no handholds. He backed up and grabbed the phone.
She shook her head and sighed, shooting him a hot look filled with a sultry feminine knowledge and confidence that didn’t bode well for him and his good intentions.
“Go for Dodger.” He walked to the edge of the upper door and looked out the wide opening to the blue sky and thick green jungle in the distance. The sun cast a shimmering scrim-like haze between Dodger and the outdoors. He set his hand on his hip, trying to catch a breeze that would cool his hot body.
“Mr. Graham. Where is Agent Palmer?” the male voice asked on the other end of the line.
“What?” Dodger stiffened and turned to look at Anna. Alarm igniting in her eyes, she stared at him. “She’s not there?”
“No, and it looks like she put up one hell of a fight.”
17
Pitbull pulled up to the back of the hotel. They were going to enter through the kitchen. It was very early morning and there would be fewer people about. They exited the vehicle in black gear, their faces obscured, so there was no evidence that his team was still in Paraguay and nixing any political backlash.
Fast Lane couldn’t shake the gut-deep feeling that this was too hastily put together, not that his team couldn’t handle anything thrown at them. But with a mole in the government, Angar Said was already aware they were going to attempt a kidnapping.
He didn’t care for the unknowns like the possibility of a suicide vest, or the number of men he had up there, or if Angar Said was even still in the country. They were going in blind, and while SEALs assaulted in the dark as ghosts, they didn’t particularly enjoy being in the dark.
This had goatfuck written all over it.
They moved in a single line into the building after Pitbull breached the door. There was no one in the kitchen as they moved through to the staff elevator. Anna’s friends indicated he was on the twenty-seventh floor of the hotel and Angar Said had booked all the rooms on the floor.
Fast Lane was sorely missing Max and Jugs but was grateful that they’d been found, albeit a bit beat up. The elevator opened without a sound, and through hand signals, Fast Lane and the team emerged and fanned out, Pitbull and Dragon on point. As they moved steadily down the hall, they neutralized any guards.
At his room, all but 2-Stroke breached the door and they rushed inside to find an empty room.
“Boss, he’s squirting,” 2-Stroke said through comms, and in the predawn quiet, Fast Lane heard the sound of chopper blades.
“The roof,” he growled.
They all took off at a run, in close pursuit, several of Angar Said’s men pinning them down. There was a fierce firefight and plenty of slinging lead before they were subdued, and the team lost precious minutes.
Hitting the door to the roof at a run, they had to contend with several more tangos in the stairwell but eliminated them and burst out onto the roof. Dragon, using one of the flat surfaces of an air conditioning unit, sighted down his sniper rifle. But he swore as two civilians ran into his kill box.
“No shot,” he yelled as the helicopter landed and Angar Said and the remaining two men jumped into the chopper and while Fast Lane watched impotently, lifted off, then disappeared into the gloom.
“Son of a bitch!” he growled. Utter and total mission failure.
“Guys!” Dodger came charging in, and Max looked up. “Someone grabbed up Shea!”
“What?”
“Someone took her.”
The satphone rang. “Give me that,” Max said, pushing the speaker button. “Hello.”
“Max?”
“Shea, are you all right?”
“Not exactly.”
There were sounds of a tussle.
“Shea!”
“What do you types call that? Proof of life?”
“Who is this?”
“This woman’s executioner unless we get what we want.”
“What is it you want?”
“Jason Palmer.”
Max looked over at Jason and his mouth tightened. “This is Jason Palmer. If you harm my sister, you’ll never get what you want. I’ll go to my grave with the information.”
“Well, hello, Mr. Palmer. You’re an elusive man. All we want is our money. We appreciate you holding onto it for us, but we will claim it now.”
“All right. He rattled off their coordinates. Bring my sister or there’s
no deal.”
The line went dead.
“Are you sure about this, Jason?”
“I’m sure. They’ll never stop coming, and it puts the people I love in danger.” He clasped Carolina’s hand.
“Maybe you should fill us in on where all this money is.”
“I’m not sure. I still can’t fully remember.”
“You just gave the cartel our coordinates and you don’t have what they want. Palmer, that was a boneheaded move.”
“They were going to kill my sister. I’ll remember.”
“You better because we got a chopper inbound.”
“Let’s gear up and be ready. Professor, you get yourself to a good sniping point. Take out the guy with Shea if you can get off a shot.”
“Copy that.”
“Carolina, you go with Dodger and stay low.”
“No. Jason—”
He pulled her hard against him. “I love you more than anything. But I have to know you’re safe. Can you do that for me?”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “Please, keep him safe.”
Renata squeezed her hand.
Max touched Renata’s shoulder. “Go with them.”
“But, Max—”
“No arguments. This is what we do. Go with them. You too, Anna.”
Once the women were gone, he turned to Jason and Saint. “I’ll go out with Jason. You stay here and make sure no one does anything stupid.”
Saint nodded. “Man, don’t get yourself killed. We want to keep Jugs.”
Max chuckled. “Prick.”
“The chopper is landing,” Professor said over comms.
“Come on, Jason.”
They walked out the back way and slipped through the fence to the pasture beyond as the rotor wash of a dark green chopper flattened the grass and plastered their clothes against them.
The door opened and Shea stepped out followed by a dark-haired man. He had a gun to her head. Shea’s gaze went directly to Jason, tears of joy on her face.