by Toby Neal
He found her a spare set of trainee gym clothes, and she changed quickly in the locker room. Nani’s heart rate increased and her muscles jumped in anticipation as she stripped out of the gray suit and stowed her weapons neatly in a locker.
She loved to spar with a worthy opponent, and Luciano wasn’t going to go down easily. Good. She was like a cat. She enjoyed playing with her food.
Nani wound her thick braid around and around, anchoring it in a ball on the back of her head with a rubber band, then pulled on the shapeless nylon gym shorts he’d handed her. Per usual, they hugged her butt like a sausage casing, while her narrow, toned upper body swam in the tank top. If she’d been more comfortable with Luciano, she’d have left off the ill-fitting shirt and just gone in wearing her exercise bra so she could show off her nice, feminine six-pack.
Who cares? She didn’t need to look good for this man. She just needed to beat him, and for that she had a solid base of operations. Her ass might be big, but she was seldom tipped over onto it.
Luciano was already in the ring when she entered the gym. Peaches lay on the cement floor watching her master in adoration.
He moved well for a big guy, loping around, swinging his arms to loosen his spine, but there was definitely a hitch in his stride. Approaching, she saw a scar above his knee that reminded her of a spider web crack in a windshield—a raised lattice pattern indicating a shrapnel wound. Hence, the Special Forces guy sidelined out here in this burg.
Well, she’d break him out of his rut starting now, with the element of surprise. Luciano wouldn’t know that she’d been brought up in a dojo with a father who was more of a coach than a parent. She’d earned black belts in three separate disciplines and won tournaments before her recruitment to the FBI, where her hand-to-hand skills had been polished further.
Nani slid between the padded ropes and held her hands up, indicating the split-fingered, padded gloves used for mixed martial arts that he’d given her. “They fit.”
“Your shirt doesn’t.” Indeed it didn’t, bagging and gapping around the belly and arms. Mercifully, he didn’t mention how the shorts didn’t fit either. “Let me fix that for you. Can’t have a loose shirt providing a handhold for your opponent. Turn around.”
“What?” Nani frowned but complied, and the air whooshed out of her in surprise as Luciano grabbed a handful of the baggy shirt and twisted it in a quick, tight knot at her waist, effectively plastering the shirt to her body. Her nipples went tight in shock, and she crossed her arms over them. “Careful, Captain.” She spun to face him, but Luciano’s face was blandly expressionless.
He indicated the ball of her bun with his chin. “Same way you took care of your hair.”
“Okay. Let’s get to it.” Nani circled him on bare feet, keeping her arms loose, waiting for him to show what he had.
It didn’t take long for the captain to launch an attack. She dodged and ducked, gliding ahead of him, circling, spinning, almost waltzing. While his legs were his weak spot, hers were her strength. She could do this all day.
She made him chase her around and around the ring. Rich color filled his bold face as Luciano tried various combinations, and nothing connected. He was good—excellent, really—especially for a man with an injured leg, but eventually the captain left his chest open. Nani sprang forward and executed a standing solar plexus kick, blasting the air out of Luciano’s lungs and powering him backward into the ropes, where he slid down, eyes bulging in surprise, mouth opening and shutting like a fish.
Nani hurried over to ease his fall to the ground, catching his heavy body and taking the weight with her legs, lowering him to the mat on his back. She took a knee beside him, gazing down into his mottled face.
“Just relax. Don’t fight it. Your breath reflex will kick in a minute,” Nani patted his shoulder. “Good match. You really know your way around the ring.”
Luciano’s hand clamped onto her arm and he tossed her to the side like a rag doll. He rose in monolithic fury, clearly still unable to breathe, but after her like a typhoon. Nani rolled away, hearing his inarticulate grunts as he pursued, and she was finally able to gain her feet—just in time for him to grab and flip her.
She hit the mat on her back so hard that her breath was gone, and then Luciano collapsed beside her, heaving and gasping.
A long moment passed as Nani regained her equilibrium and contemplated the acoustic tile and ugly fluorescent lighting tubes above them. Eventually she could speak. “Want to go another round? I’m not hurt. Are you?”
“No. And no, I don’t want to go another round.” Luciano sounded like a wounded bear, wheezing and grouchy. “Unlike you, I already had a workout today.”
Side by side, looking at the ceiling, she felt like she could tell this man the truth. He was all she had, and she might as well make the best of it. Getting him to trust her and follow her lead was essential. “I’ll be honest with you, Captain. The job the President has given me—us—is a challenging one.”
Luciano sat up, lifting his good knee to rest a long, thick arm on it, and rubbing his bad leg with a knuckle as he looked down at her.
Nani looped her arms around her bent knees, facing him. “Let’s go to the SCIF and talk.” The information she had to share was top secret.
Luca nodded. “You’re looking at it.”
“What?” Nani scanned the large room—in an unlit corner she spotted several desks with aged computer equipment on them. “You’re kidding, right?”
Luca shook his head. “We don’t have much need of an SCIF. But, we wanted a fighting ring. Doors are locked, so say your piece.”
Nani tore her gaze off the dilapidated equipment, suppressing the surge of doubt that threatened to paralyze her. “We have intel that puts ground zero of a bioterror plot not far from here.”
“You’re saying Scorch Flu is an attack?”
“Yes, I am.” She let out her breath.
Luciano frowned deeply. “Who?” His voice was a dangerous rumble.
“Earth-purging skinheads.” Nani held Cocky Lupo’s gaze. All those ripped muscles? Dime a dozen. Didn’t do a thing for her. She also did not notice the flecks of gold in his eyes or his ridiculous lashes, totally wasted on a man. Luciano had perfectly ordinary brown eyes, not pretty at all. “A lot of deadly, earth-purging skinheads led by a man named Tanner Hillish. Heard of him?”
Luciano shook his head.
She filled him in on what she knew: Tanner Hillish was in his early forties, well-educated, and had spent time in mental facilities before developing the movement he called Great Nation America. He had a loyal and well-armed following, but up until this point had stayed put in the Texas plains—and there was nothing in his jacket that would indicate he was capable of infiltrating the Pentagon. How he’d gotten his hands on the virus was still unknown.
“So here’s the plan: we’re going to investigate this group and ascertain whether or not they’re the source of the virus, and call in a strike force.”
Luciano’s eyes widened. “Why isn’t a Green Beret unit doing this? Sounds like a stateside Bin Laden-style operation.”
Nani stood up. “Honestly, I don’t know.” She began to pace, her words easier to find when moving. “I’m an interagency consultant on bioweapons and bioterrorism. I thought I was just briefing the President and the next thing I know, I’m leading the investigation.” She stopped, hands on hips, legs braced wide as she faced him. “I need a team I can trust that can get the job done. What do you think? Do you have access to the right personnel? Do we have a chance in hell?”
Chapter Four
Luca
Luca sat on the mat, an arm hooked around his knee, looking up at the doc. Damn, the woman could kick. He resisted the urge to rub his chest where she’d gotten him. A civilian woman who could keep up with him in the ring and looked like a goddess.
Not at all what Luca had expected.
Dr. Kagawa was talking about the operation, but he was having trouble concentrating with he
r pacing in front of him. The tribal tattoos snaking around her biceps seemed to come alive as she moved. And that ass, in those tight shorts, was glorious.
He wanted to peel those shorts right off of her—they didn’t fit anyway. He’d start at the top and work his way down. First, he’d nibble on her earlobe, sucking the tender flesh between his teeth, biting down just a touch, not so that it hurt—just so it stung, but in a good way.
“Do we have a chance in hell?” Dr. Kagawa interrupted his fantasy. She’d stopped pacing and stood over him, her hands on her hips, holding that tiny little waist of hers. Her eyebrows were raised, glittering brown eyes expecting an answer. He’d never seen anything like her eyes—wide but tilted, and such a deep brown that they were almost black. Her skin was the color of caramel ice cream, his favorite—he tasted the sweet, salty combination on his tongue just looking at her.
Where was this woman from?
“Can you put together a team to do this job, or not?”
That must have been the second time she asked him that.
“Yeah. Absolutely.” Luca nodded and rubbed his scar, staring at the dirty mat. Freckles and Big Nate were close by. He could probably get hold of Tug, D. Love, and Jaguar, too. If Luca was lucky, he could convince Biscuit to join them. The guys were gonna die when they met Doctor Kickass...yeah, that was a good nickname for her. They already had a “doc” on the team, though—that’s what the D in D. Love stood for.
“How many guys do you think you can get on short notice? We’ve got to move out fast.”
It was impossible to form coherent thoughts as she stood over him, skin shiny with sweat, the shirt he’d knotted at her back pulled tight across small, round breasts with pointed nipples.
How long would what take?
Luca had to shut down his erection or he was going to come off like a freakin’ idiot.
He leaned forward to stand, and she held out a hand to help. The doc had long fingers, short nails, and calluses across her palm—did she use a staff in her martial arts practice?
Luca almost refused the help, but wanted to feel her skin again. She was tall for a woman, around five foot nine, but his hand still engulfed hers as she hefted him to his feet. Now Luca was standing too close. The doc was the one to take a step back and incline her head to look up at him. Her nostrils flared as her eyes narrowed.
Yes, she was the perfect antidote to his grief over Nando—nothing like a good lay to erase pain and regain control.
“I’ve got to make some calls to see who I can get over here on short notice. Meet me in my office in two hours.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “Noon.”
“Just point me to the Arms Room. I want to assess your weapons cache.” It sounded like a proposition, the way Doctor Sexy said it.
Luca turned away, ducking under the ropes to get out of the ring. The shrapnel in his thigh jabbed at him and pain shot up his side. Going all out like he had in their bout demanded a price, but there was no way he was going to limp in front of this woman. He used all of his concentration and willpower to set equal weight on both legs as he pointed in the direction of the Arms Room. “That way.”
“I’ll change and come back.” She plucked at her shirt. “Gotta get out of this.”
Oh, let me help you with that, Dr. Sinuous.
No, that nickname didn’t quite fit, though it described her smooth moves in the ring and her tattoos. He was getting closer to finding the perfect nickname, though.
Back in his office, Luca made his calls while Peaches settled into her bed under the window, basking in the hot sun. The six guys he’d really wanted were available and agreed to come in. Luca set their files on his desk, ready for Dr. Kagawa when she showed up—if she managed to find him.
Navigation was a hallmark of a good soldier. If the woman couldn’t find his office despite the fact that it wasn’t listed in the directory, and that he’d given specific directions to the administrative staff not to tell anyone the location, then she wasn’t someone he could respect.
At exactly noon there was a knock on his door.
“Come in.” Luca stood up as the doc entered.
She was back in that suit again. It didn’t fit her nearly as nicely as the shorts. Like him, she probably had trouble finding off-the-rack clothing. There were few men as broad as Luca, or women with an ass as round and lush as Dr. Booty.
He liked that one, but just for the bedroom. It was missing something; the woman wasn’t just ass, after all. She was also eyes and hair—and some pretty serious brains, from the impressive résumé Heathcliff had left on his desk.
“Have a seat.” Luca offered her the extra chair. Usually filled with guardsmen in fatigues, the doc’s exotic looks stood out even more.
“Were you able to reach your men?” She placed a briefcase between her feet and sat down.
“Yeah, I’ve got six guys coming in. Some will be here this afternoon. The other two can be here by tomorrow morning.”
“Great. I talked to the motor pool and the armory. It seems like we won’t have access to helicopters.” She frowned. “Apparently, all the pilots are sick.”
“Seriously?” Luca sat back in his chair. “How many cases?”
“Six. Heathcliff is making calls to see if he can get someone else to come in.”
“Jesus.” Luca winced at the slip—he hadn’t meant to use the Lord’s name in vain. “My man, Patel, might be able to help. He’s my logistic specialist—guy can find anything. We call him Biscuit. Nathan Stolen will want to go over your supply list with you. He’s my weapons sergeant, and he’s the best. We call him “Big Nate.”
“I’ll be happy to confirm with him.” The doc gave a small smile. “I’m guessing he’s short.”
Luca nodded. “You’re familiar with ‘handles’ then?”
“Five brothers and eight years in the FBI—yeah, I know a little something about nicknames.”
Her hair was still in a braid, but no longer wound into the tight bun she’d had it in for their sparring session. What would it look like loose? Probably long enough to touch her spectacular butt. The thought of knotting his hands in all that thick black hair made him glad he was hidden behind the desk. Luca leaned forward. “So what’s your nickname?”
The doc shrugged. “Never went in for that sort of thing.”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Luca’s voice dropped low.
The doctor laughed.
Bells tolled, whispers sung
Coiling ink and hair undone
Summer brings new sun
Luca picked up the folders on his desk and cleared his throat. “Here are the personnel files on the men.” He held them out.
“Thanks. I’ll review these.” She took the files.
Luca folded his hands on the desk. It seemed to him that their business was done, but she was still sitting in that chair, her nails clicking against the laminate armrests, her gaze focused on the wall above his head.
Dr. Beautiful was hiding something. Shit. Women were always hiding something.
“Is there anything else, Doctor?”
“I’m going to share confidential intel, but you can’t tell the rest of the team. This is for your ears only.”
Yep. Dr. Kagawa was sneaky, like all the rest.
“I’ve got a vaccine for Scorch Flu.” She let that sink in for a moment. Luca raised his brows. “I’ll be vaccinating you and your team.”
Nando’s face flashed before Luca’s eyes—laughing and reaching out for a hug. “A vaccine?” The rattling cough Luca had heard over the phone line when he’d last spoken to his brother, the same strangled sound he’d heard in the nave of his church that morning, filled his ears. “Where did you get it?” Luca’s voice stayed flat, just like he wanted it to.
Dr. Snake held his gaze. She wasn’t squirming, but she should be. “That’s need to know.”
“Why isn’t the vaccine being distributed?” He bit off the words, anger tightening his jaw.
&n
bsp; Dr. Kagawa firmed her full lips. “I don’t know why there isn’t more. But I’ve been ordered not to share this intel, and I’ve only been given enough to dose a small team. We’re not going to tell the men what it is.”
“We’re going to give it to them, though?”
“Yes. We’ll tell them it’s a B12 booster.”
Luca barked a laugh. “That’s your lie, honey. Nothing to do with me.”
“And you’ll back me up. Honey.” Her voice dropped low—she was issuing a command.
The hairs on the back of Luca’s neck rose. He inclined his head the barest inch.
Dr. Kagawa reached down into her briefcase and pulled out a black pouch. She unzipped the small case to reveal a plastic box holding ten pre-filled syringes. “I’ll inject you now.”
Luca stiffened as she came around the desk and leaned over him. The woman smelled like shampoo from the locker room—that stuff in the wall pumps, astringent and piney. He’d always disliked the smell, but there was something else in her bouquet, something earthy and feminine, and it made his nostrils flare.
She pushed up his sleeve, her fingers never touching his skin, just the soft cotton of his shirt, but he felt their warmth—and was that a slight tremble? Luca’s left shoulder bore a tattoo of the Airborne symbol: a lightning bolt, with a sword in the foreground.
She jabbed him right in the middle of it. Luca sucked air between his teeth—filling his senses with her scent.
God, she smelled good.
“It’s always the big guys who moan about shots.” He heard a smile in her voice.
“I didn’t moan.”
“Sure. Nice tattoo.” She turned away.
Luca refused to rub the sore spot. “Iktan Balam, the commanding officer of the team I’m bringing in, did it. You’ve got some nice ink, too.”
The doc replaced the syringes in her briefcase, bending over in front of his desk. Mother of all amazing butts... It was so big and round and perfect...
She turned back to him. “Thanks. I’m half Hawaiian, and the triangles are cultural patterns. My name is Haunani. I go by Nani, when I’m not answering to Dr. Kagawa.”