Wet For Her Warriors (Book 5 of the WILD -- Warriors Intense in Love & Domination -- Boys of Special Forces) (4 page)

“And don’t you
think that your parents would want you to be happy? To not have to worry about
this place all the time? To provide for Leo, and have a simpler life for
yourself?” With every question, the man shifted closer to the bottom of the lanai
steps, though kept his stare fixed on Lani’s position at the top. He gave a
small nod to his two henchmen, who motioned the others forward, too. “Just let
us look around, darling.”

“I’m
not
your damn darling.”

“
Hoaloha
makamae
—”

“She’s not that
either, asshole.” Whatever it was. Tait didn’t need a translation app to
comprehend the general tone of the endearment, one the guy took as seriously as
the stinking feet Lani had mentioned. He’d had enough of Benson trying to turn
his silver tongue into a dagger through her heart, which was clearly tied into the
land onto which this fuck wazzle wanted. Vitalized by a mix of fury and hooch,
he stepped past Lani to brace one foot on the landing next to her, the other on
the top stair. “And she’s made her point for tonight. So it’s time for you to
leave,
GQ
-la-roo.”

“What the hell?”
Lani flashed a spectacular you’ve-grown-another-head stare. “What—what’s going
on?”

Benson’s plucked
brows cinched together. “Shockingly, Miss Kail and I agree on something. What
is
going on?”

Lani swung her
frown at the man. “They don’t work for you?” Her answer came before she was
done. Benson’s shrug said it all. “Then who the hell—”

“Do you need
assistance throwing them out?” Pretty Boy didn’t waste time jumping on that
golden opportunity. More accurately, motioning his minions to do so.

“No.” Lani’s protest
sliced the air, desperate and harsh. “No, damn it. You’re not getting onto the
property in
any
way, Gunter. Wave your dogs off or I’m calling the
police!”

Benson’s boys
reacted like that was the best punch line of the week. With matching chortles,
they barely broke their strides toward the stairs. Tait didn’t waste energy on
an answering laugh, but indulged himself inwardly.

Bring it on, fashion
plates.

As soon as the first
henchman dared a boot on the bottom stair, he stepped down. “The woman’s made
herself clear, dude. Back off.” He kept his tone conversational. No need to let
these tarts think they were worth anything more.

Kellan moved
down to flank Tait on the step. All Gunter’s minions tensed. After taking half
a second to fully size Kell up, the henchman in front of him made the first
move. Though the guy wasn’t packing a gun, his chest was as wide as a C-130, his
neck big as the plane’s loading bay. Kell was smart enough to recognize a lucky
break. As soon as the guy cleared two steps, Kell shoved his heel of his palm
into that broad target of an Adam’s apple.

The C-130
crumpled so quietly that Kell had time to roll his eyes at Tait before the blow
was noticed—and Benson ordered the rest of his posse forward with a snarl.

Tait grinned.
The boy on his side of the stairs now raced up higher, enraged by watching his
friend get toppled by Kellan. “Come and get some candy, sweet thing.”

The boy turned
up the speed. Tait smiled wider. The faster the velocity, the better the punch.
Sure enough, the guy ran into his fist hard enough to cause an audible
crack
of flesh to bone—until the guy’s wail drowned it. He stumbled back,
clutching his bloody nose.

“What the hell?”
Benson screeched it like they’d taken out his whole pack of Twinkies instead of
the two. “Who do you two meatheads think you are?”

Tait snickered.
It had to be the vodka at play, but he couldn’t help himself. “Meatheads.
That’s a new one. I kind of like it.”

“Says the flank
steak,” Kellan drawled while centering himself on the steps with a wide stance,
now directly guarding Lani. Tait had to hand it to the guy. Looking that
daunting in nothing but khakis and an open beach shirt required significant
balls. “Sergeant Kellan Rush at your service, Mr. Benson,” he stated. “This is
my brother at arms, Sergeant Tait Bommer. We’re honored to be assisting Miss
Kail tonight on behalf of the US Army.”

“Oh my God.” Lani
whispered. “Are you a couple of Franz’s guys?”

“Would that be a
bad thing?” Tait murmured.

She didn’t take
her stare off Benson. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Nice to meet
you, Sergeant.” The new information didn’t shake Benson. The man folded his
arms and advanced by another smug step. “Under different circumstances, I’d
offer to take you boys out for a beer to thank you for your service. But as
they say, this situation is what it is—and I’m sure that my friends at PACOM
would be interested to learn how a couple of their boys pulled my men into this
dust-up without provocation or—”

This time Kellan
joined Tait in his laugh, sharp enough to cut off the bastard. “First, I don’t
see a spec of ‘dust,’ man—though that can be arranged if you’re disappointed. Secondly,
go right ahead and call your fancy mucks in Honolulu. I’m sure they’ll also be
eager to know how the local ‘businessmen’ of their islands are showing up at
private residences where they’re not wanted and demanding entrance, anyway.”  

Benson was still
unfazed. Tait snorted and shook his head. Some idiots didn’t get the message. Times
like these were when it came in handy to let the vodka fairies fly away with a
guy’s inhibitions.  

“Hey, Slash? You’re
being nice, aren’t you?” He stepped down to the same level as Kellan and
backhanded his partner’s chest. “This is strange. He’s not usually the nice
one. But that means we can’t have fun, because
I
don’t feel like being
so pleasant right now. Not when a beautiful new friend of mine has been barged
in on like this, slapped with threats thinner than rubbers from a truck stop
bathroom, then told she might as well not fight the asswads who made them,
because it’s ‘for her own good’.” As he lowered his hand, he cracked his
knuckles. “Shit like that makes my blood hot, especially when I’ve been
drinking. And fuuuck, have I been drinking.”

Kellan emitted a
tight groan. “Goddamnit, T-Bomb. You that determined to live up to the
call-sign tonight?”

Near the bottom
of the steps, there was a man giggle. Tait glanced over to watch the jeer
spilling from one of Benson’s goon boys. The dude had a lanky build, eyes like
a rat, and a layer of stubble of which he was clearly proud, complete with
styling product worked into the scruff.

C’mon, Benson.
Let this pup off his leash. Let them
all
off.
The itch to rumble with
these posers was a fire in Tait’s blood. Okay, so it was displaced fire. He
wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t recognize that truth. What his body really
craved was friction of a different kind, learning every incredible curve of his
beach goddess’s body. Yyeeaahh, that was happening sometime…never. The woman
already protected her
land
like a wrathful divinity, which made her
person a no-fly zone. And studying her bikini—for pure recon purposes of course—made
him note a snug custom fit along with snap-lock closures instead of string ties.
The garment was made for utility, not intimacy. Not that he couldn’t get her
out of it in less than a minute, with the proper invitation…

Goddamnit, he
needed to pummel something.

“Casey.” Benson’s
clipped command didn’t bode well for that cause. “Don’t waste your time on the
nice soldiers. They’re likely getting ready for a trip to Lihue, hoping they’ll
be able to buy some ‘entertainment’ for the night. It’s sad, but some people
need to do that.”

“And some just name
theirs ‘Casey’ and keep it on a pretty leash.”

All really
wasn’t lost. The crack did the trick. Casey’s lips curled before he pounded up
the steps toward Tait. Adrenaline rushed Tait’s blood, mixing with the alcohol,
sending him into a weird kind of high. Yeah, this was good. The euphoria he’d
been seeking for six months. The nirvana of not giving a fuck whether he lived
or died.
Finally
.

When the kid
reached him, Tait stayed open long enough to let the boy land a solid fist to
his gut. To any outsider, the blow became Tait’s justification for retaliation.
He took the punch with pleasure, curling his arm under and thrusting up with a
satisfied grunt. The pup had washboard abs, but they were conditioned by weight
machines, not battle drills. Damn. That meant the kid would only last one or
two more whacks before slinking off in tears like his friend. Where were some
serious warriors when a guy needed to taste blood?

Luckily, Casey’s
buddies surged up, eager to help answer that question. Tait eyed them with a
feral grin. “Let’s have some fun, boys. I love playing with puppies.”

“Holy fuck.”
Kellan’s mutter was lined with anger.

“Oh, my God!”
Lani’s gasp was filled with fear.

His reaction to
both was a smile he felt from ear to ear—just before he was tackled, rolled
over, and pinned to the steps with his arms spread wide. Casey’s victory scream
filled his ears, piercing his I-don’t-give-a-shit bliss, before he looked up—into
the kid’s fist.

Make it good,
Fido.

He vaguely
remembered the words actually tumbling past his lips before the blow descended.
Pain exploded through his head. Then at last, a bottomless blackness sucked him
into its thick perfection.

 “
Hupos o na
hupos
.” Lani spat it for the hundredth time in the last half hour. For the
sake of emphasizing how high her fury soared, she repeated it for Sergeant Rush
in words he could understand. “Morons. All of you damn men. You’re half-brained
morons.”

She pushed
harder on the ice pack against Bommer’s face. The man groaned from where he lay
on the chaise upon which Rush had dumped him. A second later, he flung out a
drunken arm. “Garrhh! Unnnggh! Stop!” His arm went lax as his fingers found her
thigh. “Mmmm. Ahhh.
Don’t
stop.”

“Shit.” She shoved
his hand away. Well, tried to. “Yep. Morons.”

From his
position under the door frame, Rush rolled his shoulders a little. In a less
formidable man, the motion probably resembled a squirm. “I think you’ve got the
win on this one, sweetheart.”

The man needed
another glare hurled his direction for the slip on the endearment, but damn it,
the words soothed her nerves in at least ten ways. Still she seethed, “What the
hell possessed him to goad Gunter’s pack like that? What would he have done if
you weren’t there to peel them away, and convince pansy-man to call them back?
Does your friend have a damn death wish?”

“It’s beginning
to look that way.”

The dismal
certainty of his statement caused her to stare back to Bommer. She tried to
ease up on the pack, but the unconscious man reached up, clutching her wrist
like his torch in an abyss. “Don’t go. Please don’t let go of me, Luna.”

Her breath
clutched. The plea wasn’t like his other ramblings. Every syllable of it was
clear, pronounced—and desperate. She stretched a finger out from the edge of
the ice pack, trailed it across his forehead. With every inch she covered, his
tension ebbed a little more. Was he relieved? Grateful? Lost to a dream? If so,
of who? Or what? She suddenly burned for the answers as if she’d been awaiting
them for months instead of minutes—and from the looks of things, she’d be
waiting longer. Bommer began pulling in longer breaths, forcing her to call on
an old friend called patience.

“I think he’s
sleeping.”

Her gentle tone
caused visible surprise in Sergeant Rush. She shared his curiosity. How had her
anger turned to tenderness so fast?

Don’t go there,
Hokulani. Don’t even start
.

But she’d
already done so, hadn’t she? It didn’t take thousands in psychotherapy bills to
figure out why. She’d felt out of control for so long. She’d
been
out of
control. She was not and never would be a victim, but Gunter’s scheming with
Hales Anelas was becoming harder to fight. Now, blood had been spilled because
of her resistance to the man. Gods be thanked that nobody’s injuries were
lethal, but in those moments after Gunter’s men had swarmed over Bommer like a
pack of pissed-off apes, she hadn’t been so certain. Her screams had been
shrill with real terror.

But this moment
gave her some empowerment again. This stranger, so impossibly foolish and lost,
gave her a moment of importance. Even if he was obliterated and had her confused
for someone named Luna, she’d finally done something productive in this world
again.

“I think you’re
right.” The soft concurrence came from the gray-eyed man in the doorway.
Correction: gray-eyed hunk.
Aue ka nani.
Such beauty.
Sergeant
Kellan Rush really was a magnificently-made man. His shoulders, chest, and
torso gleamed like wild honey spread over a marble statue. The shorts did
little to hide the matching muscles of his long legs, which were dusted with
more of his dark hair. He affected her in raw, animal kinds of ways. Her skin
tingled, her heartbeat sped…and her sex thrummed in demand. She swallowed to hide
her reaction, lucking out on the timing. Rush sighed heavily at the same time. “Sleeping
is good,” he stated. “That’ll make it easier to hump him back over to Franz’s
place.”

“What? The hell
you will.” She balanced the ice so it would stay on Bommer’s forehead before
rising to square off against Rush. “We’ll put him in the back seat of my jeep,
and I’ll drive you two back over. It may be a bit bumpy, but I don’t think
he’ll notice.”

“Out of the
question.” He folded his beautifully-muscled arms. “That’d leave you to drive
back here on that two-lane thing that barely calls itself a road. I wouldn’t
put it past Gunter to be parked somewhere nearby, figuring we’ll have exactly
this conversation, waiting for you to cruise back here by yourself. With his
boys already whiffing blood, the man won’t toss aside that kind of an
opportunity.”

No matter how
deeply the words seared into her as the terrifying truth, Lani defaulted to her
usual reaction: completely faked defiance. “He wouldn’t try anything with Leo
around.”

Once more the
man barely moved, though his pewter gaze drilled into her. “Yes. Leo. The one
who’s expecting to find you here in one piece when he returns from fencing practice.”

She sprinkled
the bravado with sarcasm. “You
were
listening in class, Sergeant.”

“That’s my job,
Miss Kail.” He intensified his scrutiny, almost sending a vibe of discomfort,
but Lani wrote off her perception as silly. These guys worked for Johnny Franzen,
who barely suffered fools in his civilian life, let alone what he demanded of
his Spec Ops team. Despite how Bommer had pulled the jackass move of the decade,
Franz wouldn’t have turned over the keys to his place to any half-brained joes.
Not that Rush helped correct her perception, with his semi-stammered follow-up.
“So…Leo? He’s—errmm—your son?”

“My brother.”
She smiled, not seeing any point in prolonging the man’s stress. “I was my
parents’ college surprise and he was their ten-year anniversary gift.” She
pressed her lips a little tighter to keep the smile fixed, despite the hit of
sorrow that came—as it always did. “The age spread turned out to be a good
thing, though. Mom and Dad died together two years ago, but I was twenty-three,
old enough to file for legal guardianship of Leo. He’s fifteen now and surpassed
me on height about four months back. But inside, he’s still processing the loss
in a shitload of ways.”

He tilted his
head a little. “And you’re not?”

“In my own way,
each and every day,” she countered. “Only I’m not doing it with a teenage boy’s
hormones screaming through my veins.”

“You get the win
on that one, too.”

She joined him
in his good-natured chuckle but cut hers short when she sensed he had more to
say. “What?” she prodded.

The man stunned
her by shifting from his position in the doorway. She wasn’t sure whether to be
unnerved or thrilled by the way he moved toward her across the wood floor,
every step quiet but deliberate, until he stood only two feet away.

Lani’s breath snagged.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. In this softer light, his gray eyes resembled
sea foam in a storm. Apt comparison, considering what his nearness did to every
vital organ in her body.

He took a step
closer. “What happened?” His voice was a murmur between them alone. “To your
parents?”

His interest,
issued with somber sincerity, touched her. “My Mom and Dad did a lot of
volunteer guidance work with at-risk teens on the island. One of the kids
they’d been working with snuck away for a Saturday night rave in Honolulu with
some college boys, and got himself arrested for possession. My parents insisted
on flying over to post his bail. There was a pilot with a bird parked on this
side of the island—”

“At the strip at
the Barking Sands missile base?” he interjected.

Lani nodded.
“He’d just dropped a couple of guys at the base as a favor to the base’s CO.
There was a storm coming in pretty hard and fast, but my parents begged him for
the ride. The kid in Honolulu had anger issues, to the point that he took meds
to keep it all in check. He’d been off the meds for nearly twenty-four hours,
and—” A rock of grief stopped her from speaking for a moment. The next moment,
she gulped it down. “They finally got clearance to take off, and…the pilot lost
control.” She tilted her head the direction of the shore. “We heard the bird go
down from here. By the time Leo and I got to the beach, all we could see was
wreckage. That’s all they found, as well.”

“Fuck.” His
mutter was vicious but oddly comforting. He finished it by lifting a hand to
her arm, wrapping firm, long fingers just above her elbow. Though he gripped
her lightly, instant heat spread through her from the contact…and something
more. So much more. A release yet a tension. A surrender yet a power. A
piercing consciousness of all this man’s strength, yet every shred of his
vulnerability. “That’s rough.” Coming from him, the words weren’t empty. His
empathy was thick in every syllable. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

She curved a little
smile, trying to convey she meant it, too. The look froze on her face as her
gaze tangled with his again. His fingers tightened on her skin.

Gods, she was in
trouble
.

His fingers
spread over her arm in a boggling mix of pressure. Sweet concern…curious question…sensual
searching. Every corner of her body responded to all of it, especially her most
tender core. If her clit had just been dropping hints before, it clicked to
full demand mode now. She wondered if he’d use the hold to pull her closer—and knew
if he did, she wouldn’t resist. It had been a long,
long
time since male
body contact meant anything besides Leo and his bear hugs. The abstinence took its
revenge on her body now in hot, ravenous ways…

Suddenly, Rush pulled
back like she really had caught fire. At the same time, a hard shell clamped back
over his features. She recognized the expression all too well, having seen it on
Franz’s face before. A soldier clicking into protective mode. She turned and
straightened pillows on the easy chairs in an effort to loosen the tension
squeezing the air. But damn it, the man didn’t help. The weight of his stare,
following every move she made, assured that every nerve ending in her system remained
on high alert.

“So what about
the dickwad?” he finally asked.

She froze,
gripping a pillow. “Excuse me?”

“Benson.”

“Oh.” She
dropped the pillow and laughed. “
That
dickwad.”

He returned to
propping up a doorway, this time the portal that connected the living and
dining rooms. “I take it he’s a developer of some kind. But you said several
other properties are openly up for sale. Why does he want this place so badly
for his project?”

Like Franz, the
guy didn’t miss much. “He’s not disclosed that for certain.” She let half a
smile play at her lips. “But I have a few theories.”

“Like?”

She let another
thick moment pass by. Rush kept his features neutral, careful. Maybe he thought
she’d brandish the Bowie at him again. The thought made her chuckle, to which
he reacted with a curious smirk. The moonlight sifted in through the dining
room’s big window, highlighting his mouth. He had such fascinating lips. The
top one was nearly bisected by the deep dip in its center. The lower was an
elegant sweep of flesh, set against his nearly square jaw.
Aue
.
Mouths
like that belonged on pirates, rakes, and highwaymen, the kind of men who
dragged women off to the bushes so nobody could hear them being ravaged and
pleasured…

Which should
have been the thought that lowered her hand instead of raising it back toward
Rush.

Which should
have stopped her from stepping over and curling her fingers around his.

Which should
have cut out her tongue before she could return his smile and say, “It’s best
shown instead of told.”

Rush dipped his
head toward her. “Why does that sound like a challenge?”

“Why do you
sound excited that it might be?”

“I’m the
long-range shooting specialist for our team, Miss Kail. Just the word
‘challenge’ gives me a hard—” He interrupted himself with a choke and a grimace
pulled from the nice-going-you-dumbshit file. “Umm, a—a hard time saying no.”

She giggled
while sliding into her light running jacket, then nodding toward the couch.
“How long do you think the lion will sleep tonight?”

He shrugged. “Tough
to say. Up until a month ago, back-to-back deployments kept me from seeing him
for a while. He was on extended leave, riding a desk job back at our base in
Tacoma—but I have a feeling he was riding the hooch pretty hard, too.” His face
clouded over, making it clear he didn’t want to share further details. “He’ll
be out for a while, but I don’t want to leave him alone for too long.” He
cocked a quizzing brow. “How far away
is
this ‘challenge,’ lady?”

Thank the gods
he injected the humor again. That made it simpler to mask how he captivated her
more as the minutes passed. The man already had the muster and character to be
a part of John’s battalion. He was also fierce with the fight club moves when
it mattered, listened with compassion, and openly cared about his shitfaced
teammate. If he knew how to select good chocolate and could navigate a tool box,
as well, she might be a goner. And that was
not
good.