The Omega Team: Hot Rod (Kindle Worlds Novella) (4 page)

Ace threw himself into one of the rickety chairs at the rickety table. “Coop wanted to call his mommy.”

Coop smacked Ace on his bald head. “She’s my girlfriend. And I had to cancel a date.”

“Such a fucking ladies’ man,” Ace snorted. “We also stopped to get some beer. Grey never sends beer with the rations.”

Matt’s expression darkened even more. “He never sends beer because we’re on duty.”

“Rotating shifts,” Ace said with a smirk. “I’ll only drink when I’m off duty.”

“Really?” Matt set his fists on his hips. “I’m sure the bad guys will be obliging enough to only attack when you’re sober.”

“Don’t be such a Boy Scout, Devereaux. Besides, how would the cartel find us here? No one knows where we are.”

“Grey knows,” Coop said.

Ace closed one eye and glared at Coop through the other. “Grey doesn’t count. He’d die before he told anyone.”

Matt frowned. “Grey’s not the only person who knows about this safe house. The OT has support staff. Someone made these arrangements for us. Someone services the cars we drove in. Reymundo could have broken our encryption. Anything could happen. We can’t make
any
assumptions.”

Both men gaped at him, openmouthed. Ace shook his head. “You’re paranoid.”

“Am I? The cartel knew we were coming last month. Someone had to leak the word.”

“That was just a Charlie Foxtrot. A fucking heinous coincidence.”

“Was it?” Matt’s gaze drilled into Ace’s like a laser. Ace looked away.

“Sure it was,” Coop said, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.

“Doesn’t matter if it was or not. We need to be on point all the time if we want to keep that girl safe.”

“Girl?” Ace’s laugh was a cackle that sent prickles up Sam’s spine. “She’s a
whore
.”

Funny, how Matt’s face went all red, as though he was angry. “She’s our target. Her life is in our hands. And, for that matter, so is Don Reymundo’s son’s. If she doesn’t testify, he walks. Do you want that?”

“Nobody wants that,” Ace muttered. He glanced around the room. “So where is she, this
girl
we’re supposed to be protecting at every waking moment?”

“She’s in her room.”

“
Her
room?” Ace frowned. “Does that mean the three of us have to share?”

Coop laughed. “Only two of us. One of us will be on duty, remember.”

“I do.” Ace sighed. “I hate these things. Almost as bad as stakeouts.”

“I brought some games,” Coop said and Ace grimaced.

“Not those stupid draw shit games again. I hate those.”

“Cards Against Humanity,” Coop said with a waggle of his brows. At that moment, Sam decided she liked him. She liked irreverence in a man. And thank God there would be something to do, some mechanism to allow her to interact with them as she got to know them. Sitting around on the flea-bitten sofa and staring at each other would be as much fun as a colonoscopy.

“We should bring everything in from the cars,” Matt said.

“You didn’t already do that?” Ace asked.

“Of course not. I had to secure the cabin. Besides, I’m not your mom. You can carry in the groceries. Oh, and we still need to do a perimeter check.”

“Didn’t you do anything?” Coop asked, but it was in a teasing tone.

“I got her here.”

“Yeah, and about that… How the hell did you pull that plum duty?”

Matt glowered at Coop. “Plum duty? She cracked her gum all the way here.”

A chorus of hoots rose. Apparently they both knew how much Matt liked gum chewing. Sam filed the knowledge away. Annoying him might be the only entertainment she got for the next month or two. And she’d brought a lot of gum.

Chapter Four

As nights went, this was a long one.

Sam tossed and turned, torn between watching the door—which she’d locked—and drifting into tantalizing memories of days gone by. She wished she could take a pill that made her forget anything that had to do with Matt Devereaux, because all those remembrances were wrapped in painful emotions, like a rumaki made with barbed bacon.

And they were sneaky brain farts. They waited until she was almost asleep, and then slithered in, wrapping themselves around her, coiling tight and squeezing the breath from her lungs.

The day they’d met.

A first kiss.

The fireworks on the Fourth of July bursting over the water.

The time they spent all night out on the battlements.

She’d given her virginity to him, and he to her. Neither had really known what they were doing, but they’d figured it out, exploring passion together.

There were some not so awesome memories too, like the time he’d taken her to meet his dad—a full bird colonel—and his mother, who had looked down that long hawklike nose at the NCO’s daughter and expressed her disappointment that her son was not courting a girl of his station.

Of his station?

She’d been furious, but had hidden her wrath in a vain attempt to win his parents’ approval. A truly wasted effort. She should have responded with something snarky and bold. Like, “Yes’m.” Or maybe a curtsey.

They probably wouldn’t have gotten her sarcasm. But she hadn’t been terribly snarky or bold back then. It had taken life beating the crap out of her for her to grow a spine.

Now she didn’t take shit from anyone.

With a heavy sigh, she kicked off her covers, strapped her weapons to her thighs beneath her flannel PJ bottoms and headed for the living room. If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well work. Subtle interviews with each of the men was the first item on her docket, and what better time than the middle of the night, when only one of them would be up?

Her door creaked when she opened it, causing the man seated at the table, scratching notes into a journal, to look up.

Their gazes clashed.

Shit.

Of course it had to be
him
.

He leaned back and stretched. “Can’t sleep?”

She shrugged. “Strange bed.”

He flicked a look at her. One that said,
Oh, and you aren’t used to strange beds?

She ignored it because it was hardly the insult he intended and also because she didn’t want him to think he had any power over her. She wandered over to the fridge and opened it. She wasn’t really hungry, but it gave her something to look at other than his annoying night beard. Honestly, just because they were in a rustic cabin far from civilization didn’t mean he couldn’t freaking shave. The bristles on his strong, square chin made her crazy.

She grabbed some deli meat, cheese, mayo, tomatoes and bread and made herself a sandwich. All the sodas were generic—she hated generic sodas—but she grabbed one anyway and, carrying her plate, made her way to the table. She sat across from him and began to eat, but he watched her so intently she couldn’t swallow.

“Want some?” she asked, picking up half the sandwich and shoving it at him. He stared at it as though she were offering him
heart of targ
.

“Huh?” His attention locked on her face. Her lips, to be precise. His tongue peeped out, which made her shiver.

“Are you hungry?”

“Oh. Sure.” He took the sandwich and she realized her mistake at once. She should never have allowed him to touch her. Sensation sizzled where their fingers met. He seemed to feel it too. His attention snapped to her eyes and he stared at her.

Surely such intensity was not called for. Not over bologna and cheese.

“You, ah, have something,” he said touching the side of his mouth, “right here.”

She licked at the spot he’d mentioned and, indeed, there was a glob of mayo there. His nostrils flared, but then he deliberately looked away.

“Probably not a good idea to eat so late. It will give you bad dreams.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I can’t sleep when I’m hungry.” It was true. She just wasn’t really hungry.

He nodded and, after a moment, went back to his scribbling.

“What are you writing?”

He stopped immediately and sighed, but didn’t look up. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” How intriguing. But when she reached for the book, he pulled it away and slipped it into his rucksack.

“Just a letter.”

She hadn’t pegged him as a letter writing kind of guy. He hadn’t responded to one of hers. Not one. “To whom?” And who wrote letters in a journal?

A muscle clenched in his cheek. “No one.”

Really?
No one?

It hit her then and hit her hard. He had a girlfriend. Maybe a wife. The thought had never occurred to her before and she had no idea why it devastated her the way it did.

She
didn’t want him. Didn’t want anything to do with him. When this mission was over they would go their separate ways and she would never see him again. He would certainly never know her true identity. She’d pluck out her own eyes before she revealed that secret to him.

But, she had to admit, she wanted to know…

“So,” she gusted. “Tell me about yourself, Matt Devereaux.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Tell me about yourself. Come on, Hot Rod. We’re going to spend a lot of time together. We may as well get to know each other.”

There was no call for him to frown like that. “I don’t like talking.”

Really? He’d been a chatterbox as a kid. At least with her. “Try.”

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Army brat.”

“Ah. So all over.”

A grunt. Damn, this conversation was like pulling teeth. But she needed to know who he was now—strictly for the mission’s sake, of course—and to do so, they needed to talk. She ignored that little voice that whispered she also needed to know what had happened all those years ago. And why. And to whom he was writing in the dead of night.

For her mission. No other reason.

“Where was your favorite place to live?”

She didn’t expect his reaction to the question. His expression softened and his eyes closed a little. “Fort Monroe.” He said it like a prayer and shivers danced on her skin.

“Why?”

“You’re nosy.”

“I’m bored. Why Fort Monroe?”

He shrugged. “It was an old Civil War fort with battlements and ghosts and a moat. Very attractive to a kid of fifteen. Plus it was near the water and I loved to sail.”

Ah. She saw it, in her mind’s eye. A girl and a boy in a skipjack, cutting through the waves with the sails billowing in the wind and laughter floating on the air. And kisses that tasted of sweetness and salt.

“Crabbing is good there.”

She shouldn’t have said anything. His gaze snapped to hers and it was no longer dreamy. It was sharp. So sharp it cut. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “Everyone knows that.
Virginia is for Crabbers
, right?”

“Something like that. Anyway, yeah. Fort Monroe was my favorite.”

“Did you have a girlfriend?” Hell, she shouldn’t have asked. It was stupid to ask.

A veil came down over his eyes and the muscles in his face tightened. “I was fifteen. Of course I had a girlfriend.”

“Hmm.” She affected a cheery tone, though her soul was writhing. “What was she like?”

He was silent for a minute, then said starkly, “I’m not talking about her.”

Contrarily, given his response, it was the only thing she wanted to talk about. Did he still have some shred of feelings for that poor, sad, doomed girl?

“Her?” Yeah. The word came out hard and strident. “Only one girlfriend? A hard, hot SEAL like you?”

He glared at her. “I wasn’t a SEAL then. I was fifteen.”

“But I bet you were hot.”

His eyes narrowed even more. He studied her and then he leaned closer, far too close, in-your-face close, and whispered, “So you think I’m hot?”

She lurched back as though he’d scorched her with his fiery dragon breath. “I didn’t say you‘re hot.”

“I think you did.” He nudged his chair closer to hers, but only to intimidate her. She could tell he thought if he was daunting enough, she would run. And then he wouldn’t have to talk about it.

But he didn’t know her.

Not anymore.

“All right. Okay.” She waved a blasé hand at him. His freaking gorgeous face, his massive shoulders, the chest that made her palpitate. “You’re hot. So what?”

“Right.” He leaned back and folded his fingers. “I forgot. You’ve been with lots of hot men, haven’t you?”

“Oh, just oodles.” She didn’t know why he scowled. She was supposed to be a hooker, after all. “And you’ve been with oodles of women too.”

“You so sure about that?”

“Um… Yeah. Pretty sure. How many have you been with?” Again, squirming curiosity and a question that should never have been uttered. Because at her core, she really didn’t want to know.

He frowned. “That’s a pretty personal question to ask someone you just met.”

“Afraid to answer?”

“No.”

The ancient clock ticked as she waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“How many?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I really don’t know.”

“So many?” Almost a sneer.

His lashes lowered, shielding his expression. “So…forgettable.”

Well hell. That stopped her in her tracks. The answer, and something else. Something around him, a muddy cloud, a sadness she hated to see clinging to him. As though he had tasted all the world had to offer, and its flavor was ash.

“Whatever happened with her?” Somehow, the question was soft and gentle, though she was neither.

“Her?”

“The girl. The one you knew when you were fifteen?”

His expression, when he finally looked up at her, devastated her. Such anguish. Such torment. It breathed life into that flaccid hope that there’d been an excuse for his desertion. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten about her after all. Maybe…

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“But—”

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m just asking.”

“And I’m not answering. Go to bed.”

“Matt—”

He stood so quickly, his chair tipped over. The thud bounced off the walls like a gunshot. A bustling from the mens’ room arose and Coop bolted out wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants.

“What was that?” he cried, quartering the room with a hard-eyed surveillance.

“I knocked over the chair. Sorry. Go on back to sleep,” Matt said, and then, for some reason, glowered at her.

It was hardly
her
fault.

“Well, hell.” Coop yawned. “It’s almost my shift. Why don’t you go ahead and turn in? I left the bed warm for you.”

“Thanks.” A grunt, but barely that.

Cooper turned to Sam and shot her an affable grin. “And what are you doing up, pretty lady?”

“She couldn’t sleep,” Matt snapped. “Strange bed.”

“Well how about a card game? I got about six hours to kill.” Coop waggled his brows.

Damn, he was cute. A pity she felt nothing for him, at least in the romance department. But then, Matt had ruined her for any other men.

“I…should go to bed.” She wasn’t tired, and this was a great opportunity to get to know Cooper, but she needed time to process her conversation with Matt. The interaction had befuddled her. His expressions, his muttered responses, the things that he hadn’t said, haunted her. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball under the covers, the way she’d done when she was a frightened girl, and be left alone.

So she nodded to the men, one after the other, and escaped.

Matt stared after Vixen LaFleur as she disappeared into her room. The woman was full of contradictions. On the one hand, she was as hard-boiled as a petrified egg, but occasionally he caught glimpses of another girl. Someone tender and sweet. And this afternoon, with her makeup, clanking jewelry and slinky outfit, he could have picked her out of a hooker lineup. Tonight… Well tonight, she’d been something else altogether.

With her features scrubbed clean and unencumbered by war paint, her hair down and woven into a long braid draped over the shoulder of her pink Hello Kitty PJs, she could have been a teen at a slumber party.

She’d been hard to look at tonight. She’d been far too enticing…especially with a smear of mayo on her lips. Christ, that had nearly unmanned him.

Not that he had a thing for teenyboppers in Hello Kitty PJs… It was more than that. There had been a softness about her, a freshness, a sparkling aura the hooker side of her didn’t have.