A castle. Harrumph. She was still a little shocked that they were in an honest to goodness castle in Scotland. It was one thing to live in a mansion—she’d spent the first fourteen years of her life in one—but a castle was in a whole different category. It conjured up images of dashing knights saving damsels in distress, or Cinderella and Prince Charming. Every little girl who’d seen the Disney cartoon, or one of the non-animated versions, had dreamed of living in a castle with her prince at some point in her young life. At least, until the reality of adulthood came crashing down on her.
Mic and the others had told her to help herself to anything in the kitchen and a glass of warm milk might be just what she needed to get some sleep. One of her childhood nannies had gotten her hooked on the comfort drink when she couldn’t sleep, and Jordyn still found it helped all these years later.
She quietly opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. Pausing, she listened for the sounds of anyone else being up at this hour, but was met with silence. Trudging down the steps, she tried to remember how to get to the kitchen from the front foyer. Was it a left, left, right? Or a left, right, right?
After correcting one wrong turn, she spotted the swinging door that led to the kitchen. She was just about to push it open when Carter’s voice came from the other side. “Hey, beautiful. How’s my favorite lady?”
Jordyn froze. Beautiful? His favorite lady? Probably the gigolo’s standard line for when he couldn’t remember the name of a woman he’d fucked.
Turning on her heel, Jordyn started back to her room and then stopped short. Should I forget about the bastard, go to bed, and try to sleep? Should I breeze into the kitchen like I have no idea he’s there talking to one of his girlfriends? Orrrrr . . . should I eavesdrop?
If she wasn’t so damn curious, she’d be mad at herself for choosing the latter. Tiptoeing back to the door, she listened again.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. Give my boy a kiss and a hug from me. I’ll call you when I land in D.C. . . . Bye.”
The sound of a stool scraping across the tile had Jordyn scrambling for a place to hide. Running on silent feet back the way she came, she made the first left and tried the first door she came to on the right. The knob rotated easily and she ducked inside, shutting the door behind her. It was pitch dark and she had no idea which room she was in.
Waiting with her ear against the door, she struggled to hear any sign of someone walking down the hall. If it was anyone else, she’d probably pick up a footstep or the rustle of fabric. But Carter was a fucking ghost, moving around with as much noise as a piece of dust floating through the air.
I love you, sweetheart? Give my boy a kiss and hug from me? Carter has a son? And from the sound of it, he has a wife, too. Or at least a longtime girlfriend. And why did all that piss her off? Because of the way my cheek tingled when his fingers brushed over it. Because of the heated stares he keeps sending my way. And because of how all of that makes my blood boil and my core ache for him. Because I’ll never forget the one night I spent in his bed. That glorious night that rocked my world and ruined me for every other man. Damn it!
Hearing nothing, she waited for five minutes, counting each second off in her head, before she eased the door open a crack. Still, nothing stirred. Stepping out into the hall, she turned and ran right into a wall. Well, not one of the stone walls of the castle, but a solid, warm, and breathing wall of flesh. Large hands grabbed her shoulders to steady her, and Jordyn fought the urge to drop whoever it was to the floor. Looking up, she was glad she had.
“Any reason why you’re coming out of the dark billiards room in the middle of the night?” Pierce asked, his expression unreadable.
“I . . . uh . . . I mean . . . um.” She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, her shoulders relaxing under his big hands. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing. At least, nothing I want to fess up to or that you’ll believe.”
The corners of his mouth ticked up in a grin, and amusement filled his soft, brown eyes. He was really good-looking, and, not for the first time since she met him a few hours ago, she wondered why she couldn’t fall for a guy like him. But no. Jordyn Alvarez’s traitorous body only revved up to an eleven on a scale of one to ten when the one man she hated was around. There had to be some sort of women’s law about that—like craving chocolate is mandatory during that time of the month. If you despised a guy, your girly parts shouldn’t get all tingly if he was near.
Pierce cocked his head to the side. “Try me.”
“Yeah, like that’s not a loaded statement.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, although, if you’d taken me up on it, I wouldn’t have said no.” Grasping her upper arm, he spun her around and started walking toward the kitchen. “Come on. There’s leftover apple pie in the fridge. I’ll heat it up and add some ice cream. Maybe that’ll get you talking.”
Jordyn snorted, but let him lead her. “Let me guess. You failed Torture 101, didn’t you?”
“Nah . . . this is just more fun—plus there’s pie. No one can refuse Maggie’s homemade apple pie. Now, if you were some fugly third world terrorist with a God complex, then, yeah, I’d probably start with the waterboarding.”
Chapter 9
The tension in the dining room was sky high, but no one said anything about it. Jordyn and Chris, as usual, were glaring at Carter, who was glaring at Pierce—not as usual. The rest of them ate their breakfast in silence, their gazes bouncing from one glaring person to another, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Flynn and Pierce were the only two oblivious to the hostility flying around the room while Ian, Mancini, McCabe, Mic, Jones, Rook, and Roza, looked on in a combination of confusion and amusement. Carter wanted to tell them all to fuck off, but Roza’s presence had him biting his tongue—Mic and Jordyn wouldn’t be offended, but the quiet, shy woman had his protective and polite inner Dom emerging.
About an hour after he’d left the kitchen and gone to bed last night, Carter had heard Jordyn and Pierce in the hallway. The man had said something to make her giggle, to Carter’s shock and amazement. It’d been years since he’d heard a flirty, little laugh from Jordyn, and it made him want to rip the other man’s head off. Whether Jordyn knew it or not, she was off limits to any other guy. At least, until Carter figured out why she hated him so much so he could fix it. After that, he’d get her back into his bed until he had his fill. But for now, he wanted to pound on any guy who dared flirt with her. Jealousy was a new emotion for him, and unless he got it under control as far as Jordyn was concerned, there were going to be quite a few homicides in the near future—starting with Pierce.
Mic cleared her throat as she looked back and forth between Carter, Jordyn, Pierce, and her boyfriend. “Soooo . . . what time are you heading to the airport?” she asked none of her guests in particular.
A knowing smile spread across Ian’s face. “Smooth icebreaker, Mic. Can’t get any subtler than that.”
A few chuckles filled the air as she shrugged. “What can I say? It's a talent.” She sent a scowl around the table. “You know, you assholes either need to fight, fuck, or let it go. The hostility is getting tiresome.”
The buttered roll in Flynn’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “Am I missing something here?” No one answered him.
Ian threw his napkin down on the table and stood. “She’s right, this is getting old very fast. Break out the paintball guns, Mic. I don’t trust these assholes with anything stronger. We have a few hours before we have to leave. Let’s take it out on the course until the last man . . . or woman . . . is standing.”
Flynn jumped from his seat in excitement. “Yes! Get ready to eat my paint, bitches—that goes for both sexes. What do I win when I’m the last one standing?” Not waiting for a response, he ran from the room, presumably to gather up the equipment, looking like a kid in a candy store.
“Fucking Flynn,” his team grumbled in unison.
Everyone fini
shed their breakfast, then headed upstairs to throw on clothes they didn’t mind getting ruined. Jones volunteered to monitor the property’s security system while working on some computer coding. Roza also didn’t join them, choosing to remain indoors on the dreary, overcast day. The cool air out on the huge paintball and laser tag course did nothing to temper Carter’s jealousy, but he had to admit, Ian and Mic were right. They all needed this “shoot ’em up and spit ’em out” release of energy and frustration so they could get back to the task at hand—figuring out who wanted the Deimos operatives dead.
* * *
Loading the gun with paintball pellets, Jordyn eyed the others doing the same. The red team consisted of Ian, Mancini, Pierce, Chris, and her, while Mic, Carter, Flynn, Rook, and McCabe made up the blue team. Jordyn was looking forward to nailing Carter’s ass. She was wearing her black pants from yesterday and Mic had given her a clean, long-sleeved, black shirt. Resting her gun on the picnic table they were gathered around, she pulled a hairband out of her pocket and gathered her hair up into a ponytail. Without even looking, she knew Carter was watching her every move and unwanted goosebumps pebbled her skin.
Ignoring him, she checked out the landscape they were about to head into. The game course was a maze, spreading out over several acres with trees, eight-foot hedges, boulders, trenches, and small hills to hide behind. Jordyn knew she was at a slight disadvantage between having never been on the course before and it having been a while since she’d engaged in this type of warfare. Urban assassinations and undercover ops tended to make up the majority of her missions. But sneaking around and being invisible was something she’d learned from her uncle, and then from Carter, and she had plenty of tricks up her sleeve.
As everyone finished loading and put on their eye protection, Mic nodded at Ian to set things in motion.
“All right,” he announced. “Since you’re not a bunch of pansies taking time off from an office job to play cops and robbers, the rules are simple—there are no rules. Once the opposing team has been eliminated then you’re on your own. Last person standing gets bragging rights.”
“That’s it?”
“Shut up, Flynn, or you’re my first fucking target. Blue team, head out. You’ve got a three-minute start before we come after your asses.”
After some challenges were laid down, a few fists were bumped, and one or two middle fingers were flashed, the blue team disappeared behind the first hedge. Ian set the timer on his watch, then leaned against the wooden picnic table that was covered with empty paintball boxes. His gaze fell on Jordyn. She looked away and then back at him. “What?”
He shrugged. “I just knew the woman who was going to tie that boy up into knots was going to be kick-ass.”
Her brow furrowed. “What boy? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, please.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if it’s because you’re giving him the cold shoulder or what, but, damn woman, you have to know Carter’s hot for you. And despite your words and actions, the feeling is definitely mutual. So why don’t you bury the fucking hatchet, find the nearest bed, and get it over with.”
“What! Screw you, asswipe! You have no idea what you’re talking about. And that bastard is the last man I want in my bed.”
Chuckling, Pierce stepped over and leaned against the table as well. “I tried telling her that last night and got the same response. Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Seriously? Who do these guys think they are? They sure as hell weren’t Dear Abby, and even if they were, she wasn’t discussing Carter with either of them.
“Last night?” Ian repeated with unveiled interest. “Do tell.”
“Yeah. Found her sneaking around downstairs and tortured her with apple pie, but she wouldn’t fess up. I think she was avoiding Carter since he came up the stairs a few minutes before I went down. But that’s just my guess.” Pierce lifted his chin toward Jordyn. “Zip-lips over there would neither confirm nor deny.”
“Well, I guess that explains why he was sending daggers your way at breakfast. You shared a fucking pie with his woman.” Ian punched Pierce’s shoulder in jest. “Don’t you know that was added to the man code recently? I mean it’s pie, dude. You don’t share pie with someone else’s woman.”
Jordyn gaped at the two of them. Abbott and Costello they were definitely not, even though they seemed to think so. “I’m not his woman, asswipe. And let me tell you something else—”
Her words were cut off by the timer on Ian’s watch going off. He pushed off the table and gave her a wink, which irritated her even more. “Sorry, sweetheart, you can finish that lie when we’re done. Now let’s go have some fun.”
Circling his hand in the air, he gave the silent signal for them to move out into the maze. Everyone pulled their goggles down over their eyes and merged onto the course. Ian and Jordyn went to the left, while the others took the right. Covering the former SEAL’s six, Jordyn listened for any signs of their playtime enemy nearby. They spent a good five minutes creeping around before Ian held up his fist, telling her, without words, to stop in her tracks. He swiveled his head only toward her, pointed to his right ear, then at the row of tall hedges next to them. He’d heard someone on the other side she hadn’t. In complete silence, the man dropped to his knees, then to his stomach. If she hadn’t watched him do it, she would never have known he’d moved. Aiming his weapon between the bases of two arborvitaes, he edged it forward. With a slow squeeze of the trigger, he fired a single shot.
A split second later, loud cursing came through the branches. “Fuck! God fucking damn it!” Flynn roared. “Who the fuck was that? Shit! Don’t tell me I’m the first one out!” He continued to curse and mumble as he left the playing field.
Ian got to his feet and grinned wildly at Jordyn. One down and four more blue players to go.
Mancini was the next person hit, followed by Rook being taken out by Pierce. The rest of them spread out. As soon as a team was eliminated, the other one didn’t want to be in sight of their teammates when it became a free-for-all. To the east of the maze, there were stairs leading to a wooden platform high above the playing field where those who had been shot could watch the action. They wouldn’t reveal any active shooter’s position because that would be poor sportsmanship, but when McCabe was taken out by Jordyn, cheers and snarky comments filtered down.
Chris went down next. “Fuck, Mic! Seriously? You had to hit me in the ass?”
Creeping around a large boulder, Jordyn tried to figure out where the man’s complaining was coming from. While she’d started to like Mic, all was fair in love and war out here on the course. A shuffle came from her left and she ignored it to a point. There was no way any of the three other remaining players would make a noise unless it was to purposely draw someone in that direction.
Pierce was the next player eliminated, but Jordyn didn’t know who’d hit him. He just announced loudly that he was out on his way off the course so no one would hit him again if their paths crossed. Creeping around like this, without worrying about a real bullet, was really kind of fun, Jordyn thought. She’d have to do it again some time.
“Son of a fucking bitch! Jackass, you’re a dead man!” Ian was out, and from the sound of it, Carter had fired the shot.
A small rock landed behind Jordyn and she rushed around the boulder for cover, realizing her mistake a half second before Mic’s blue paint ball hit her in the shoulder and exploded. The woman grinned at her and silently mouthed “bye-bye” with a dramatized girly-wave of her fingers.
Mic was good, Jordyn would give her that. If she ever needed the woman to cover her six, she was confident her ass would be safe. Cutting through the hedges, she yelled out to Carter that she’d been hit, once she’d put some distance between her and Mic. She didn’t want to give the man any clues to her attacker’s location. If Jordyn couldn’t be the winner of this game, she was rooting for the other woman to win.
By the time Jordyn reached the top of the tower and
joined the others, Mic and Carter were closing in on each other. As good as the Deimos spy was, Mic had the advantage of being smaller and more familiar with the course. In a move similar to Ian’s earlier, she nailed Carter in the thigh through a heavy shrub.
Carter dropped his head back on his shoulders and, like everyone who had been eliminated before him, cursed up a storm. But the game had done what Ian and Mic had hoped for. Both teams were now laughing, joking, and slapping each other on the back. A majority of the tension had faded away. Unfortunately, not everything could be fixed with a bunch of blue and red paintballs.
Chapter 10
“Prepare for landing.”
At the sound of the pilot’s voice, Carter was instantly awake. On private jets, surrounded by people he trusted with his life, was where he got some of his best sleep. His mind knew he could relax knowing that if anything went wrong, there was little he could do about it. Learning to fly a plane was one of the things on his bucket list he hadn’t gotten around to yet. Now, jumping out of a plane or crash landing in one were things he’d already done, so actually flying one was kind of anticlimactic after those two.
They were landing just outside of Washington D.C. at a private airport in Virginia. Minutes after the pilot’s announcement, they touched down and taxied toward a hangar. From across the aisle, Ian leaned over the armrest of his seat and smacked Carter’s shoulder. “You sure you don’t want us sticking with you? You know damn well my wife and the rest of the Trident women are going to give me hell if anything happens to you. For some fucking reason, they love your scrawny ass.”
Pulling the leather tie out of his hair, Carter ran his hands through the strands, then retied the ponytail. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re going to need to go see a few people and it may put some of your contracts in jeopardy—”
Absolving His Sins: Trident Security Book 7 Page 8