Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1) (7 page)

“
Not yet.” She climbed into his lap and burrowed in. “Are you leaving in the morning?”

Darkness covered them in this pocket of ditch almost like a cave, surrounded by winter grass and silence. “In the morning, we’ll go to the bank. Fix the problem.”

“
And then?”

The need to stay with Lauren was a visceral thing—she was his from the moment he had laid eyes on her—but the need to protect her from the hell raining down on him was stronger. Her kiss in the bar was filled with all the goodness he wasn’t sure any of them deserved. Team Fear was the heartless result of focused recruiting combined with tireless training and a little R&D. They’d sold their souls, each and every one, for a power they could never fully comprehend. Ryder forced his thoughts onto the woman in his arms. “I have to leave. You have to let me.”

The flex of her throat when she swallowed drew his attention. “Ryder, I just got in a car accident.”

“
Let’s get you to Debi’s and patch you up.”

“
I’m still not feeling one hundred percent.” She adjusted to put one knee on either side of his hips. “Let’s take a minute to celebrate the fact that I didn’t die.”

The way she melted into him, soft to his hard, warm to his cold, was all the encouragement he needed. She wanted him. Like the kiss in the bar, this was inevitable. And fleeting. No one knew the time limit better than Ryder. They couldn’t be together as long as he had the potential to go off the rails like Madigan. But right now?

Right now, his woman straddled his lap, nestling his crotch between her legs and she looked up at him with—

This time, he couldn’t go slow. He took ownership of the kiss. Of the woman. Her lips parted under his assault. She knew him, knew he would swoop low to taste her. Home, she tasted like sunshine and honey and home. This is what he’d missed, what he’d needed more than food, water, or air. How could he walk away from the only bright light in his life?

The night filled with moans. Her lips answered his, the kiss blistering in intensity. He nipped and tasted. He controlled. She wriggled her hips to slide closer to home. Her hands caressed his arms to settle around his neck. She twisted her fingers through the hair at his nape and pulled him closer. Harder. Need shot straight to his balls. Her tongue pushed into his mouth and she became the aggressor. Maybe they’d both held back before, the perpetual honeymoon of deployment and homecoming keeping them at their best behavior. Something the accident had shaken loose. They’d been denied time to settle into real life. They didn’t know how long they had together this time around, so they both took and gave, real and hard.

With a tug, she pulled his head back to release her lips. The pressure on his scalp shot straight to his groin. Her chest rose and fell, her breath fanning out in soft puffs of white vapor. The soulful gaze he’d fallen in love with settled on him like a net. He’d stay trapped with her for eternity. He’d planned on forever from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but sometimes, life didn’t go as planned.

The compelling questions in her eyes didn’t need a voice. She wanted to know why. Maybe his guilt forced the question. Either way, words failed him. Anything he said would sound paranoid. He very well might be a paranoid bastard, a hazard of the life and the training and the meds that should have long ago cleared his system. Maybe he was crazy, but if he wasn’t—

She levered up to capture his lower lip and tug it between her teeth. “Quit thinking.”

The tug turned his dick to granite. It would be so damned easy to lose himself in her. He rocked against her core. “Lauren—”

Car headlights flashed through the opening. Tires crunched against asphalt and slowed.

“
Ry, get up. Someone’s stopping.”

CHAPTER SIX

Lauren despised herself right now. She’d nearly given herself to Ryder in a ditch. Bloody and looking like hell, God, could she get any more desperate? Hopefully not. The second the car passed, he’d swiveled to put his body over hers. Muscles bunched under her fingertips. She released her grip and struggled, trying to buck him off. Right. Because he was so easy. The grind of the car’s brakes sounded and the glow of lights diffused the desperate dark. “Ryder.”

He slapped a hand over her mouth.

No. He. Didn’t. Did he remember who taught her self-defense? Instead of kicking, since no way could she get the leverage, although it would feel fantastic to kick his sorry ass, she pressed her feet against the ground. All she needed was a little leverage to turn them sideways and then she’d get up and find help before this car left like the last one.

Right. All she accomplished was wedging her butt deeper into the grass. The man was a rock.

“
Be still,” he hissed. “No way these guys belong out here.”

What kind of guys? She’d ask, but he still had his fingers over her mouth. She licked his palm.

“
Now who’s twelve?” He removed his hand to wipe the slobber on his shirt. “Are you going to keep quiet?”

She could run to the car against Ryder’s wishes, and destroy whatever connection they’d gained in the last few minutes. Normally, he kept stuff bottled up tight, but he’d shared his concerns for his safety and for hers. He’d actually talked instead of changing the subject or walking away. She shouldn’t want to build anything with him, but the lost look in his eyes when he said he didn’t trust roadside strangers just about broke her heart. She’d bet good money that he didn’t trust anyone, and she blamed the Army. Nothing about their situation was easy, but if she walked off now to get help, he’d never open up again. “I’ll stay quiet if you’ll tell me what concerns you.”

He helped her kneel low and peer around the edge of the drainage ditch. “Three males, early twenties, late model sports car.”

The dark made it hard to see. “You just described nearly every soldier on the post.”

“
Close-cropped hair.”

“
Military,” she insisted.

“
Slouched, poor posture, skinny.”

How did he focus on so many details across the dismal expanse? All she saw were the headlights shining at the hillside and what might be the front tire of her pickup. “Could just be a couple country boys heading home after the bar.”

“
No cowboy hats or boots, too casual clothes, and a new shine on the car. No way that car drives out to some dusty border ranch. Trust me, these guys do not belong in a rural environment.”

Trust me, he said, when it was obvious he didn’t trust anyone. Her chest felt tight. Lauren stared up at the fathomless sky. If Ryder was paranoid, he did a fine job of convincing her of his truth.

“
They’re not looking for survivors.” He peeked his head around. “They’re scavenging.”

“
My purse.”

Ryder pushed her head out of the line of sight. “Anything worth dying for, sweetheart?”

“
My phone.”

“
Get a new one.”

“
But—”

“
Shit.”

“
What?” Her voice rose and he quelled her with a look.

“
They found my bike. I can’t let them take it.”

“
Oh, but they can have my phone?” Yes, she knew her argument was juvenile. His motorcycle probably cost more than a semester’s tuition.

“
Stay here.” He shifted, all sleek muscle and uncommon grace.

“
Do not leave me here.” She tried and failed to keep the snarky sarcasm from her voice. “The girl who gets left behind always dies.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun. Turning it to the side, he flipped off the safety. Before she could question him, he thrust the gun in her hands. “We’re going across the highway to the motorcycle. If anyone intercepts us, you do not engage. Climb back down here to the drainage ditch. If we’re on the other side of the highway, find the ditch and take cover. Stay down, stay safe.”

He was probably paranoid. Those men were probably perfectly friendly. Safe. Lauren’s heart pounded anyway.

Like a shadow, he rolled out of the ditch and disappeared into the black. A few seconds later, he motioned for her to join him. The headlights from the car drew her attention to the hillside. Was that where Ryder was headed? She had no idea where he’d left the motorcycle.

The men she’d seen were no longer silhouetted in the light. Their absence gave credence to Ryder’s warnings. He paused to listen and peer into the night. Time in the silence stretched like a piece of barbed wire. She wasn’t sure where the barbs were, but they were out there in the inky silence.

A muffled grunt sounded from several feet ahead. Lauren tightened her grip on the Glock. The racing of her heart could give a jackrabbit a run for the money. Staying low, Lauren crossed the highway behind Ryder. As they reached the narrow shoulder of the road, he curved around her and hustled her into the other side of the drainage ditch that led into the lake. “We’re not going to make it to the bike.” He whispered the words. “Stay here.”

Shortly after he disappeared, more grunts and smacks filled the night. She couldn’t see more than two feet in front of her face. The murky lake was a few feet in front of her and the ditch at her back. Her grip on the gun was so tight that the muscles in her forearms shook. The crunch of gravel and growls from the fight sounded like it was right in front of her, but she only saw black.

She inched closer to the sounds, away from the narrow ledge near the lake, and her feet caught in something and she went down for the count. On the ground, she turned and crawled smack into a body. Dead? A scream lodged in her throat. She slapped a hand over her mouth to hold the noise in. Puffs of steam pushed through the gaps in her fingers.

“
Get the fuck back,” she heard Ryder yell.

Crud. He was definitely talking to her. And he sounded dang happy to hear her. Not.

“
Who are you talking to, motherfucker.”

“
You, homey,” Ryder said. Breath huffed as if he took a hit. “Stay the fuck back or I’ll kill your sorry ass like I did your friend.”

Bile climbed her throat and she scooted away from the body. Dead. Dear God, what had happened to her life? She was a grad student. A professor. The most trouble she saw was students getting expelled for underage drinking.

“
Oomph,” a growl sounded from someone taking a hit. Who was the punching bag? The smack of flesh on flesh, bones crunching, one human dismantling another, turned her stomach. Lauren rose to hands and knees. She wanted to run. She wanted to help Ryder.

A hand gripped her hair and yanked her to her feet. “Ow.” The pain was nothing compared to the dread. If she survived this, Ryder would kill her.

“
Drop the gun,” a low voice ordered. He used his free hand to crush her wrist.

Lauren dropped the gun and he released her hand. She had been too close, too surprised to take a shot, but no way was she going down. Kicking and biting, Lauren used her whole body. Whoever grabbed her pulled her tight into his body to steal her leverage.

Use every limb to fight off an attack
, Ryder would say. Victims went down easy. Lauren wasn’t easy. With her arms banded closed, she kicked with her remaining strength.

“
Be still, bitch.” Bad breath and booze.

“
Not a chance.” Lauren curled into a ball, bringing her legs up like an airborne crunch, then reversed the move, ramming her head and feet into her attacker. He released her with a muffled curse. A brief moment of freedom preceded her drop. Her knees screamed bloody murder at the impact, but she was free. She scrambled for the gun. Less than five minutes ago, she wasn’t sure she could use it. Now she had no trouble with the idea of taking another life if it saved hers. And Ryder’s.

She crawled, running her hands through the dirt. She didn’t make it more than a few seconds before her attacker landed on her. He pinned her to the ground, jammed a leg in her spine, and pulled her arms back like he was roping a steer. She was trussed up before she could yell out. Not that calling for help would change the outcome.

Ryder’s focus had to remain on his own fight. Hand-to-hand took attention. The attacker grabbed her from behind and lifted her mercilessly to her feet. By her arms. Pain shot through her shoulders. Her scream of pain was silenced by a cuff to the head.

The man shoved her downhill until two bodies emerged from the darkness, engaged in a hand-to-hand fight more intense than anything in a boxing ring. Hits and kicks impacted both men. Skin split. Blood spewed. Lauren didn’t have trouble picking out Ryder. He was the six-foot-four monster whaling on a smaller adversary who held a knife.

She yelled a warning, but her captor clapped a hand over her mouth. She smelled gasoline and chemicals. Lauren resumed her struggles.

“
Stop,” the captor said, then raised his voice. “Stop now, or I cut the woman open.”

Ryder turned, his face shadowed, but anger flowed off him like a lava river. He didn’t have time to react before the man with the knife slashed out. The glint of steel buried in Ryder’s stomach. He fell and rolled out of sight.