Hot Rebel (2 page)

She hadn’t shot Jonah, but she’d wanted to. Turned out it hadn’t been necessary since he’d gotten himself killed by a Russian mercenary on the way here during a dispute over God knows what.

Whatever. It wasn’t her problem. She’d called it in. If the boss wasn’t happy, that’s what he got for hiring military rejects and Rambo wannabes in the first place.

She didn’t bother to wonder where that put her in the catalog of hires. She already knew what she was and why.

The two men were staring at her as if she’d materialized out of thin air. Which, for their purposes, she nearly had. She’d shadowed them for days now, and she knew they were Army Special Ops. She hadn’t seen their faces, but now the setting sun arrowed into the room and picked them out where they had their backs to the wall and guns drawn.

Both were dark-haired, muscled, and sported several days’ beard growth. One had his jaw hanging open. But the other…

Recognition hit Victoria like an unexpected encounter with a bat. She knew that face. Knew that mouth, the hard curl of those lips as he’d hurled insults at her during the few weeks they’d spent as competitors at the Army Sniper School. He’d been the only one there who’d had the ability to get to her, to rattle the smooth surface of her calm. And he’d done it again and again. Where the other guys tried to cozy up to her, he’d done nothing but push.

In a way, she supposed she should be grateful. He’d made her remember what she was there for, that she’d been determined to graduate and earn her right to be an Army sniper.

She would have done it too, had things not changed.

Victoria pushed the door shut and rushed over to the tattered rug that lay on the floor between her and the men.

“Don’t just sit there looking stupid,” she snapped. “Help me get this trapdoor open.”

The one she didn’t know stood as if to obey. The other one—Nick Brandon—shot a hand out and stopped the guy from moving.
 

Victoria shoved a stray lock of hair from her face and sputtered. “You’re going to let them find us just because you’re pissed, is that it?”

“You took the shot.”

“Damn right I did.”

Nick unfolded himself and got to his feet, his hands flexing on the case slung over his shoulder. “You took the goddamn shot, Victoria. But you shot the wrong motherfucker.”

She jerked at the trapdoor, levering it up with a grunt. Sweat rolled down her face. She wanted to rip the burka off entirely, but she still needed the damn thing. If this shit went south, it would provide a measure of protection that her assault suit wouldn’t.

If they looked under the burka, however…

“So you do remember my name. And for the record, I didn’t shoot the wrong guy. I shot the one I was hired to shoot.”

Nick’s face twisted darkly. “You still shot the wrong guy. And for the wrong fucking reasons.”

She shoved the trapdoor until it fell with a thud. “How do you know what my reasons are?” She slapped her forehead. “Oh wait, I forgot. It’s easy for you to be self-righteous, isn’t it? Preacher’s son who shoots people for a living. How’s that working out for you, hot stuff?”

The other guy’s gaze had been swinging back and forth between the two of them. But now he put his hand on Nick’s arm. “Dude, I don’t know how you know this chick, but I think she’s right. We need to get inside there and wait this one out.”

The sound of machine-gun fire rolled through the streets, closer than before. Typically, the Qu’rimi opposition wasn’t that organized, but this group was taking orders from someone new. And that person had a plan.

“Yeah,” Nick said, tilting his head to listen.

Victoria huffed a breath as she swept her hand toward the darkened stairs into the cellar below. “Be my guest, boys.”

“You first,” Nick said, his hazel eyes lasering in on her, gleaming hot.
 

Victoria shrugged as she tossed her gear into the hole. “Fine. Just be sure to hook the rug on the door on the way down.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. She knew he didn’t have clue what to do with the rug at this point—and they didn’t have time for him to figure it out when she already knew.

“Dex can go first then.”

The other man shrugged and came over with his gear, tossing it into the opening. When he was down in the hole, Nick passed the rest of the gear to him. And then he climbed halfway into the opening before he stopped and glared at her as if he didn’t trust her.

Victoria sniffed. “Make room, asshole, or I can’t follow.”

“How do I know you intend to?”

She blinked. “What do you think I mean to do? Wave the scumbags in and show them where you are? How do you think that’ll go for me once they discover I’m not a Qu’rimi woman?”

He grunted before lowering himself farther into the opening. He was almost at the bottom when she spoke.

“Stop right there,” she said as she grabbed the trapdoor and folded it over so he could prop it up. Then she snagged the rug and went about fixing it over the door. Once she was certain it was in place, she had to lower herself onto the floor and slide into the opening.

Nick was still there, still holding the door up so she could shimmy beneath it. The opening was tight and she found herself wedged against him suddenly, the hard press of his muscles making her jump and tingle in all the wrong places.

Or right places, depending on who you asked.

“Jesus,” he muttered as she dropped, her body sliding against his.

“Let the door go,” she urged. “Slowly.”

He went the rest of the way down the ladder, letting the trapdoor sink behind him. The rug, though tattered, had a heavy weft and would lie flat.
 

The cellar was surprisingly cool for a dirt hole carved out of the desert floor. They were near an oasis here or it wouldn’t have been possible, but the bedrock was solid and allowed the villagers to dig cellars in order to store vegetables and water.

The room wasn’t big, and the only thing preventing it from being completely dark at the moment was the glow stick the man named Dex had broken.

The ground rumbled and dirt showered from the ceiling. Victoria clenched her hands into fists. God, she hated this part. Being buried alive was bad enough, but buried alive with this man…

Nick’s head was back, his eyes on the ceiling as the dirt stopped falling. His skin glistened in the dull glow of the light. She let her gaze slide over him, cataloging the chiseled planes of his cheekbones and nose. And those lips.

Dear God, she could never forget those lips. She’d hated them and adored them all at once—and hated them even more because she’d been weak enough to want to feel them against her own.

At least she hadn’t allowed that indignity before the end.

“How did you know this was here?” he asked, not looking at her, his voice a low rumble in the dark.

“Part of the job. I’m surprised you didn’t know it. Or maybe you’re not as good as you like to think.”

His gaze snapped to hers and she found herself swallowing, which wasn’t easy considering her mouth was as dry as the sand covering the desert over their heads.

“At least I’m here for the right reasons.”
 

He sounded cool and judgmental, and it pissed her off even though she knew she shouldn’t let him get to her. He couldn’t know what her reasons were or how right they were to her.
 

“Of course you are. I’m just here for the fun. What girl wouldn’t want to be trapped in a cellar with you two jerks while a bunch of jihadists tromp the ground over her head?”

“Hey,” Dex said, “I didn’t say a damn thing. Leave me out of your pissing contest.”

“The one you let get away,” Nick growled, “will prolong this conflict and cost American lives. How does that make you feel?”

Victoria tilted her chin up as fresh heat flooded her. She knew precisely who she’d let get away. And it still made her sick inside.
 

“And I say the one I shot would have done the same thing. There are no easy choices out here, and you know it.”

“I work for an organization that knows what they’re talking about. Who do you work for?” He took a step toward her, though they were already close due to the tight proximity of the cellar.
 

She wanted to back away, but she wouldn’t show that much weakness. And she wasn’t telling him anything, either.

“Whoever it is,” he continued, “they don’t give a fuck about what’s right or just, do they? Guns for hire never do. It’s all about the money and who can pay to get what they want. You shot an opposition commander of no consequence. You let the terrorist get away. And that’s the fucking truth of it, Victoria, so save the rationalizing for some other dumb ass who might believe it.”

His words hurt, but she wasn’t going to let him know it. She reminded herself that she was here for Emily, and she was going to do whatever it took to get her sister back. Besides, Victoria’s name was already sullied in the eyes of the United States Army. What was one more transgression?

She was hot on Emily’s trail, thanks to Ian Black and his business. She started to tell Nick to fuck off, but there was a burst of gunfire overhead and the words died in her throat. The three of them cast their eyes to the ceiling and gripped their weapons.
 

There was a sudden thump on the trapdoor and Victoria’s heart lodged in her throat. Any second, the door would lift—and they’d be caught in this hole like rats.

CHAPTER TWO

Nick pulled his Sig and prepared to shoot. Behind him, Dex did the same. Victoria yanked an HK submachine gun from her bag and rocked back into a fighting stance. Above them, booted feet thumped and scraped, and men called to each other in Arabic.
 

Someone was going to realize the floor was hollow in that one spot, and when they did, all hell was going to break loose. Nick forced his heartbeat to slow, his breathing to deepen. Calm sank over him like a soft blanket. This was what he did, what he’d trained for. If those bastards came down here, he’d fight until he couldn’t fight anymore.

He glanced at Victoria, wondering how she was going to handle this. It still stunned him that she was here at all. A fucking mercenary. A gun for hire. How had that happened? Why?

She’d been incredible at the sniper school, one of the best shots in the whole damn class. They’d gone head-to-head more than once in competition, and it was often a draw as to who was better.
 

She’d been so fucking good, but then she’d disappeared one day. The instructors never remarked on her absence. Plenty of people washed out, but he’d have never guessed she’d be one of them. Not many women were allowed in, so the fact she’d been there at all had already made her special. Which was why he’d had a hard time believing she’d failed.

The trapdoor began to lift, a slice of daylight shining inside. Dex stowed the glow stick, and the light inside the cellar winked out. The door moved another inch—and then Nick heard the distant whine of a jet engine.

Air support.

The jet rocketed toward them, the engines screaming as it approached. The trapdoor closed with a thud, and booted feet pounded across it and faded into the distance. Who knows where the tangos were going or why, but they’d clearly decided this hole wasn’t worth exploring. Nick let out a long breath and lowered the Sig. He couldn’t see his companions, but he knew they must have done the same. Another moment and the glow stick reappeared.
 

No one spoke. They made eye contact and nodded at each other. And then Nick went over to join Dex against the wall. They sat on the floor and pulled water and food from their packs. It was no use trying to use the comm just yet.

Victoria was still standing and watching them, her eyes wide and innocent-looking in a way that was incongruous with the submachine gun resting against her leg. Nick motioned her over and gestured at the food.

She cast one last glance at the trapdoor over her head and then came over and sank onto the dirt floor.

“That was close,” she said softly.

“Yeah.” Nick handed her an energy bar.
 

Her fingers touched his when she took it, and his skin tingled with the contact. Her eyelids dropped to shutter her gaze from his view.

She opened the bar and took a bite, lifting her gaze to his once more. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “If you hadn’t showed us this cellar, we’d have had a shoot-out up there, I think.”

In the distance, they could hear explosions and gunfire. Victoria turned her head as if she could see the fighter jets above them.

“Now that’s a nice touch,” she said.
 

Nick calmly took a bite of his own energy bar. “Yeah, guess you don’t have air support on tap with your outfit.”

“No, we definitely don’t.”

“What happened to you?” he blurted, unable to hold it in any longer. “You had a promising career, and you threw it all away to do what? Become a mercenary? What the fuck, Victoria?”

Her lips thinned and her rain-gray eyes flashed. She still had the head covering on, but he knew that her hair beneath the cloth was a deep, rich red. Or so he hoped anyway. What if she’d changed it?