Hot for His Hostage (36 page)

“Well,
alooooha
, asshat!” Garrett threw the warm greeting to Tait, who volleyed a mock sneer in return.
Zoe figured he was allowed. The men had been on the same Special Forces team for years,
until Tait’s transfer to a new assignment in Hawaii back in September.

“That’s my line, you pussy.” Tait took Garrett’s mission pack from him and tossed
it along the wall next to a pair of nearly identical dark green bags. “How have you
been, man? How are Sage and Racer?”

“Good…and great.” Garrett pulled out his phone to proudly show off an image. “As you
can tell, he really loved his first birthday cake—though I think Sage is already worried.
Seven out of the ten kids at the party were girls.”

“Let me guess,” Tait drawled. “
StarWars
theme?”

“You think Uncle Zekie would have it any other way?”

A man the size of a small mountain strolled in behind Garrett. He yanked the sunglasses
off his formidable face, making Zoe shiver more than the first time she laid eyes
on Ghid. Like Garrett, his hair was also thick. Unlike Hawkins, his near-black waves
tumbled to kiss the collar of a shirt in a blinding lime green jungle print and scuffed
khaki pants, a look that likely served him well if he needed to masquerade on an op
as a slumming-it sheikh. Or a tree.
Mierda
. Ava was right. Zeke Hayes’ pictures were awful stand-ins for the man’s real-life
command of a presence.

“What kind of mayhem are you blaming on me while I’m not around, Hawk-Man?” He barked
it while hooking his elbow around Tait’s and Shay’s necks then yanking them into a
pair of gruff holds, apparently his version of “hugging it out,” Or in. Zoe wasn’t
certain she wanted to truly find out.

“Nothing requiring bail, Psycho Zsycho.”

“Holy fuck.” Zeke took in Rok’s place, with its gold-plated Greek columns, moss-green
walls, French Rococo furniture, and swagged satin drapes, and promptly choked. “This
place looks like Liberace had a wet dream.”

“Thank you.” Roklan emerged from the dining room, looking like one of the Hemsworths
but preening like June Cleaver. “Some of the pieces actually came from his estate.”

“You don’t say.” Zeke looked as interested in that as the sidewalk he’d just walked
in off of. “So are those Rhett and Rebel’s packs? Are they already here?”

“They’re setting up in the dining room.” Zoe offered it before thinking twice. She
needed to help the poor guy. He looked as comfortable as a punker at the opera. She
just wasn’t sure if she had the heart to tell him the dining room was just as gold,
gaudy, and swirly. Maybe she’d let him be surprised.

Though it looked like a stare at her accomplished the job first. “Holy fuck,” Zeke
blurted.

“Huh?” Tait questioned. “Z, what’re you—”

“I thought she was Ava.” He blinked and flashed a dopey grin that turned the cliff
of his face into pulse-grabbing charisma. “Sheez,” he muttered, stepping toward Zoe.
“Sorry for gawking but it’s like harmonic convergence. You could be twins with somebody
I know—who also happens to be a cousin to my fiancé.”

Zoe relished the chance to slide his smart-ass words back at him. “You don’t say.”

“Seriously. You’ve got me believing in doppelgangers now.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

He shrugged, still a goofball in the skin of a hulk. “I think it depends on whose
side you’re on.”

Shay appeared at her side. Correction: loomed at her side. “Zoe, this is Zeke Hayes,
bull-in-a-china-shop extraordinaire. Zeke, meet Zoe Chestain. She’s my china.”

 Zoe dug her teeth into the inside of her lip.
Mierda
. If the man thought he’d turn her nerves—and her pulse and her pussy—into fifteen
kinds of gooey with proclamations like that, he was totally right.

She forced her attention back to Zeke, who’d gone semi-apoplectic when hearing her
last name. “It’s awesome to finally meet you. Sorry it couldn’t be under more pleasant
circumstances. I’ve been trying to get Rayna to bring you down here to see the show
for months.”

Zeke grimaced. “Yeah, I know. Our absence is my fault. The bad guys of the world don’t
take a lot of breaks. The team’s been everywhere from Manila to Mumbai lately.”

Shay clapped him on the shoulder. “Yet here you all are, spending your leave doing
this one off the books. I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“From what I hear, nobody’s done ‘off the books’ better than you the last six months,
dude. Now we get to be a part of the fun, too. Hell,
we
all might be thanking
you
when the fireworks are done.” He cracked his neck with cocky swagger. “I’m going
to get a world-class boner off this, aren’t I? Might as well order Rayna’s ass on
the next flight in from Sea-Tac right now.”

“Great plan. Maybe we can talk her and Ava into the
I-dos
right now.”

That interjection was issued by the next guy through the door, who received a double
set of head-to-toe assessments—and subsequent approvals—from Rok and Ryder. Zoe sprinted
to him in three seconds, nearly bowling him over with the enthusiasm of her hug.

“Ethan!”

“Hey there,
hermana
.” The guy warmed her with his smooth laugh, letting enough of his rogue’s grin linger
to fill her eyes with grateful tears. His face darkened with concern. “You okay? I-Man
promised me you were safe and would stay that way…”

“I am,” she rushed out. “I…am. It’s just so good to see family.”

Her tears dampened the shoulder of his black T-shirt as he drew her into another embrace
and murmured, “I know. And it’s going to be okay.” He tightened his hug. “Ava’s on
her way, too.”

So much for attempting to keep her composure. Joyful sobs crashed over her like a
hurricane surge, making her sag a little more against him. Ethan’s encouraging hum
brought even more of the emotions to the surface, and
Dios
, did it feel wonderful to let them free.

“Archer.” Shay didn’t hide a note of his accusation. “What the hell did you—”

“
Ay
,” she shouted. “
Callate
, silly! They’re good tears, okay?”

All the guys, including Ethan, were silent for a long moment. When they all burst
into chuckles, Shay was the only one to abstain.

“Welcome to the world of being smitten by a Chestain,” Ethan finally drawled.

“Down with your bass on that, brother.” Zeke pumped a solidarity fist. “At this point,
I still have one burning question for the I-Man.”

Shay scowled. “Do I even want to encourage you?”

“How the hell did you snag a gem like her—in the middle of working undercover for
Cameron fucking Stock?”

Zoe was thankful for the chance to join their laughter, despite how Shay reclaimed
her from Ethan’s arms and tried to move in for a little peck on the lips.
Not happening
,
amigo
. He might have just cranked up the moisture readings in all the right places in her
body but she was still incensed as hell at him. The thought of him walking into Adler’s
lair, even with some well-trained, bad-ass Special Operations backup, still terrified
her soul in corners she never knew it possessed.

   “That’s an interesting story,” she said to Zeke. “I can tell you, but then you’ll
be questioning how many shots of
loco
I got in first.”

To her surprise, Zeke and Ethan shook in harder laughs. “Ohhh, little Zoe,” Zeke explained,
“this team has downed so much
loco
already, it’s a wonder they don’t call us the wild boys.”

“Maybe they should.”

The comment cracked the air like a whip—wielded by a Dom who knew exactly what he
was doing with it. Before he even looked toward the newest arrival in the doorway,
Zoe knew who it was. The six-foot-six man, a dark, skull-haircutted cross between
a Samoan god and a Special Forces recruitment ad, could be none other than Captain
John Franzen. Ava had gushed plenty about Ethan’s CO. The man’s presence could be
felt before he entered a room and long after he departed, not only eliciting the obvious
respect of the men already standing here but pulling Rhett and Rebel back out of the
dining room to greet him.

“Look what the transport dragged in.” The Creole-accented jibe came from the self-described
“explosives man—in more ways than one” for the team. To the rest of the guys, he was
known as Moonstormer, a call-sign derived from a 1700’s pirate legend about one of
his ancestors. It had taken Zoe five minutes to decide it completely fit. With his
jet-black hair and fully-tattooed arms, the only thing Rebel was missing was a real
brigantine. Or a Harley.

“Yo, Moon.” Franzen swapped a fist bump with his man. “You and Double-O finding a
crap-ton of trouble to get into?”

Double-O was the call-sign for the man who emerged from behind Rebel. That fit, too.
Rhett Lange was a stealth-quiet, brilliant-minded, completely hot ginger with biceps
that stretched his dark blue polo to capacity. The shirt matched his eyes to breathtaking
perfection, not that the man seemed to care. Rhett focused on his work with such force,
it frightened her. Fortunately, his expertise was comm, tech, and intel, which meant
his laser beam was mostly directed at the three computer screens in the other room.

“Hawk just declared he and Zsycho haven’t needed bail dough yet,” Rhett issued. “So
I suppose Moonstormer and I will pick up the slack somehow.”

Garrett lobbed a glower. “Who’re you calling slacker?”

Rhett eyed a hangnail. “If the shoe fits, man…”

Zeke cracked his neck again. “Hey, uhhh, Double-O?”

“Hmmm?”

“I really dig that new Powerpuff Girls screen saver on your phone.”

“
Pfffft
. Like
you
hacked my phone.”

“Like
you
unlocked it on the plane so I could earn that Chuzzle trophy for you.”

Garrett and Zeke high-fived while Rhett dug his phone from his pocket.

“Fucker!” Rhett jabbed and swiped at the screen.

Rebel, clearly unable to hold back anymore, surrendered to a soft snicker. “That was
righteously cool, Z, but you know payback’s a bitch with Double-O.”

Zoe dared to move into the fray. If she didn’t do something, Rok’s chichi décor was
going to need therapy from the abuse it suffered beneath a bunch of Spec Ops studs
in the mood to be puppies. “How about some fajitas?” After all the guys eyed her,
instantly conveying one message—
fuck, I hope she’s not kidding
—she broke a bigger smile. “Roklan was kind enough to take a grocery list from me
then called one of those cool delivery services, telling them he was having a party
as a cover. I’m making beans and salad, as well, and there’s chocolate cake for dessert.
I can make veggie, chicken, pork, or—”

“Beef!” The round of alpha male enthusiasm made her giggle. It didn’t hurt for drowning
out the prayer resounding through her spirit, either.

Please, any saint or
espíritu
listening, don’t let the first meal I fix him also be his last
.
 

* * * * *

Later, with the clock fast approaching midnight, everyone was stuffed full—and still
hard at work. Though the activity through the night had included everything from gun
cleaning to mission pack prep to letters for families “just in case,” everyone on
the team now gathered at the dining room table, concentrating on the schematics flashing
across the three large computer monitors.

They’d been able to borrow the screens from the eight Rok had in the house. And the
model called this his “winter place?” Zoe’s imagination soared about his summer digs,
with the Central Park views and private lap pool, in one of Manhattan’s most exclusive
high rises. Not that she didn’t love it here. Cooking in this kitchen was like driving
a culinary Cadillac.

After cleaning up, she reentered the dining room as Franzen directed Rhett to restart
the digital mock-up of their logistics plan for the morning. The images, showing grainy
shots of the little mining camp Melody had converted for the compound, had clearly
been pulled off the internet. There had been no time to gather anything fancier. Even
with that shared understanding, the team shared a groan. They were used to working
with much more sophisticated intel, making this scenario something that probably felt
like walking on tacks after strolling on grass. She was moved and amazed that though
the conditions weren’t optimal, they were all alert and on fire about getting this
done—all for two guys who weren’t even on their real team.

“Okay, let’s run the plan again,” Franzen prompted. “I want to be sure we’re not missing
a goddamn thing.”

“Great idea,” Tait murmured.

As Rhett re-set the simulation program, Franz turned a probing gaze to Tait. “Speaking
of great ideas…T-Bomb, we need to talk.”

All of Tait’s features expanded except for his mouth, which flattened. “Ohhhh no,
we don’t.”

“Tait—my boy—”

“Don’t you ‘my boy’ me, dammit. Don’t you dare do this to me.”

“You want to hear me out? We have enough guys for the op, okay? If you weren’t—”

“I don’t report to you anymore! Even if I did, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re
operating just a few thousand miles below the radar.” He rose so violently, his chair
toppled behind him. “No matter how you slice it, you can’t command me to sit this
one out.”