Roth(Hell Squad 5) (2 page)

“You are a mouthy one,” Hamish grumbled, plucking at his checked shirt.

“And you love it.” She cocked her hip. “Why worry about the carrots and potatoes? They’re just going to get chopped up and tossed in a pot.”

“Because I want them to taste good. People in this rabbit warren deserve something nice.”

Avery’s smile melted away. That was the truth. “I’ll take good care of them. Like I always do.” She’d been reduced to agent in charge of vegetables. It was a far cry from her job as a special agent for the Coalition Central Intelligence Agency.

Forcing the frustration away, she turned her attention back to the box.

Hamish’s cloudy blue eyes narrowed. “Still got you slaving away in the kitchens?”

“We all have to help out.”

“You should do what you’re good at,” the old man said. “I’m pretty sure that ain’t chopping and stirring.”

A heavy knot tied up her insides. Once, she’d prided herself on being good at her job. At protecting people, and defeating the bad guys.

Then she’d failed, and that failure had killed billions of people.

“The medical team won’t give me clearance.” She’d been among those rescued from an alien lab. And even though she’d been lucky and hadn’t suffered any injuries, the doctors were being cautious. It grated. Avery wanted to be out there fighting, not in here cooking. “And anyway, I’m not sure what I’m good at anymore, Hamish.” Avery hefted the box higher, not sure where those words had come from. “Besides, I enjoy coming down here and trading barbs with you too much.”

Hamish crossed his arms and scowled. “You’d do better on the squads, going out there and fighting those damn aliens.”

That knot got tighter. “Thanks for the vegetables, Hamish. See you later.” She pushed open the door with her hip and escaped.

As she made her way down the tunnel, her shoes echoed softly on the concrete. She tried not to think about the past, but it slammed into her like a hard punch to the gut.

Well, some of it did. There were a lot of blank patches and blurry memories she couldn’t make out, no matter how hard she tried. Out of the ones she could recall, there were some memories she wasn’t certain were real or imagined.

At the junction of three tunnels, she turned left, heading for the ramp up to the kitchens and main living quarters. After living here in Blue Mountain Base for the past several weeks, she knew her way around. It was home to hundreds, a haven from the alien apocalypse above.

An apocalypse she’d been tasked with preventing.
Yeah, you did a brilliant job there, Avery.

A headache sprung up behind her right eye and she gripped the cardboard box tighter.

She’d been the golden child at the Coalition Central Intelligence Agency. Special Agent Stillman had been on the rise, bringing down bad guys, fighting terrorists, protecting the Coalition’s citizens.

Her headache spiked up a notch and she hoofed it up the ramp. She remembered when the aliens, the Gizzida, had made contact with the Coalition. She remembered the initial negotiation meetings…then nothing. Nothing until she’d been yanked from a tank in the alien’s huge Genesis Facility by the base’s squads. She’d woken, disoriented, with huge holes poked in her memories.

And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember where she’d been the last year.

Frustration grew inside of her, and Avery powered down the corridor more quickly, turning a corner and nearly mowing down someone. “Oh…sorry.”

“No problem.” Elle Milton smiled at Avery. “It’s Avery, right?”

“Yes.” Avery knew she shouldn’t be wary of the pretty, dark-haired woman. But she knew that Elle was the comms officer for Hell Squad. Avery lifted the box an inch. “I need to get these to the kitchen.”

As she started back down the corridor, Elle settled into step beside her. Avery swallowed a groan.

“I’m heading to the landing pads. Squad Six is on their way back.”

Squad Six was Hell Squad’s official name. Avery just nodded.

“And Squad Nine. They were out on recon.” The woman wrinkled her nose. “Came across a new kind of alien.”

Oh, Avery wanted to pepper Elle with questions, but she wasn’t an agent anymore…she was just a kitchen hand with a memory like Swiss cheese. Instead, she bit her tongue and made an appropriate noise.

“How are you settling in?” Elle asked.

“Fine.” Avery winced. Oh, that didn’t sound terse or defensive at all.

The other woman just smiled. “I don’t see you around much.”

“Chef keeps me pretty busy in the kitchens.”
And I spend the rest of my time in my quarters, either trying to remember, or working out to regain my fitness.

A bright smile lit up the woman’s face. “The man is a genius. Crazy that aliens can invade, and we can all still eat well.” Her gaze traced over Avery’s. “If you need to get out, or need someone to talk to, I’m always available.”

Right
. When she wasn’t shacked up with one of the most dangerous men in the base—Hell Squad’s leader, Marcus Steele. Avery just couldn’t work out how the pretty former socialite and the rough, scarred soldier went together. But Elle had an almost incandescent look on her face. One that screamed happiness, even in the middle of hell.

Avery felt a sharp stab of…something. She shook her head. It was crazy to care for someone when the world had gone to hell. Especially someone who went out there every day to wade through it. As far as Avery could see, Elle’s happiness was on shaky ground. “Thanks. I do need to get back.”

Elle’s smile dimmed a little. “Sure thing. Bye.”

Avery quickened her steps. The door into the kitchen appeared ahead. Elle seemed nice, but Avery just couldn’t seem to make herself befriend people. Part of that was learned from her time being shuffled around the foster care system. You befriended people and cared about them at your own risk. The next day, someone would be there to take you away, and your new “friend” would be gone.

The other part of her wanted to scream at everyone—
I’m the one responsible for all of this. You living deep underground, dressed in second-hand clothes and all your loved ones dead, because of me.

She wasn’t sure she could be free and easy, like Elle. And she was damn certain she’d never radiate happiness.

Avery reached the door, jammed the box between the wall and her hip, then slapped a hand to the door lock. She quickly grabbed the box again and as the lock beeped, she pushed through the door.

Delicious scents assailed her. She had to admit, the food in the base was good. Definitely much better than the frozen dinners she’d lived on before. Since she’d been pulled from that alien tank—and thank the lord, she hadn’t been in there long enough to start the transformation from human to alien—she’d quickly gotten used to eating well here at Blue Mountain.

The man in charge, General Adam Holmes, ran the base with smooth precision, and she couldn’t fault the work he’d done. He’d worked hard to transform the former military base into a home—with living quarters, a school, an infirmary, and dozens of storage rooms for any and all scavenged goods they could find. Still, at the end of the day, it was a military base as well, home to those squads who went out to fight the aliens every single day.

“Took your time, Av.”

Avery set the box on a shiny silver workbench and looked up at the enormous man nearby.

The massive giant of a man didn’t seem to have a name, going simply by Chef. He was six foot eight with massive shoulders, skin the color of black coffee, and most often a wide, easy smile. He was the friendliest man she’d ever met…unless you messed up any of his food.

Then he could be downright cranky.

“Keep your hat on, Chef. I had to work my charm on Old Man Hamish. You know he begrudges every floret of broccoli that leaves his gardens.”

Chef made a harrumphing sound. “Bring it over here. I need to get that spinach in the stew.”

She set down the vegetables he’d asked for. “Heaven forbid we don’t have enough spinach in your masterpiece.”

“No respect,” Chef muttered, but his teeth flashed white in his face.

She shook her head, smiling. “Temperamental.”

“Don’t know why I put up with you.”

Avery started unpacking the rest of the vegetables. She knew they were lucky to have the fresh stuff at all. The shelves behind her were stacked with cans and dry goods that had been scavenged over the year and a half since the invasion, but slowly those stocks were dwindling, and eventually, they would run out. “You put up with me, Chef, because no one else will work with you.”

“We both know you won’t stay working in here for long.”

Her hand paused, clutching a leek. She deliberately placed it on the chopping board. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Nope. But, girl, you have skills…they’ll decide to use them.”

Avery closed her eyes. First Hamish, now Chef. She should have kept her mouth shut about her past employment. It was true, she wanted to be out there, fighting, helping bring these aliens down, but for now, she was grounded. “I have some pretty mad kitchen skills, too. You need them.”

Chef snorted. “Girl, you can barely boil water. That’s why I make you chop and stir.”

She shot him a smile…just as the kitchen door slammed open. She turned and froze.
Not again.

Roth Masters strode in, still wearing his lower body armor. On top he wore a simple, faded, green T-shirt that stretched across a broad chest and shoulders. The neckline was soaked with sweat and his dog tags hung in the center of his hard chest. His rugged face was set in hard lines, his sandy hair falling over his forehead, and his ice-blue eyes were laser-focused.

On her.

Chapter Two

Avery stiffened. The leader of Squad Nine was over six feet of alpha male. He oozed his take-charge, in-control attitude like pheromones.

Cranky, stubborn, alpha-male pheromones. At least, they were to her. She eyed the corded muscles in his biceps, and the hint of the ridges his T-shirt clung to, her gaze drawn there against her will. She’d always been attracted to raw strength and power. How could such an annoying man come in such a delectable package?

He paused near her. “Agent Stillman.”

Avery ground her teeth together and resumed unpacking her box. “Masters, I’ve told you, just Avery will do.”

“I need you to come with me.”

He had a smooth, deep voice for such a muscular, rugged man. If she closed her eyes, that voice conjured up the image of a handsome man in a tailored suit.

“Now,” he continued.

Her chest went tight. “We’re going to do this dance again? For the third time this week?” She spun and faced him, her hands on her hips. “Me and you across a table, you battering me with questions I can’t answer.”

“Won’t answer.”

“I don’t remember!” She slapped a hand against the bench, and ignored the sting to her palm. “Why can’t I get that through your thick head?”

He took a step closer, crowding her close. “Because I saw the records on that damn alien ship. You starred in all of them. You met with those fuckers before the invasion. You negotiated with them.”

Avery heaved in a breath. That negotiation was something she’d clearly sucked at. She just loved having Roth Masters rub her face in it. And on top of that, he was a big fat reminder that he got to go out there and fight, and she didn’t. Anger stormed through her blood. She leaned in, until they were barely an inch apart. “And for my trouble, I got shoved in an alien genesis tank, remember?”

His hand shot out and gripped her arm.

She ignored the zing she felt where his fingers touched her skin. Instead, she let her training take over. She chopped a hand to his arm, saw him flinch, and broke his hold.
I could take you, Masters, if I really wanted.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He grabbed her other arm, fingers biting into her skin.

“I don’t remember anything, Masters.” Except fear, and pain—horrible pain. Her mouth flooding with fluid, and burning through her body. No, she wasn’t going there. She straightened her spine. “I don’t remember.”

His fingers tightened on her arm, but he was silent, watching her.

She lifted her chin. “My clearest memory is you. Pulling me from that tank.”

Those eyes like chips of ice. She remembered those in glorious detail.

He’d been the one who’d pulled her out of the tank. He’d stopped her hurting herself or anyone else. He’d held her with those strong arms. And she saw those pale-blue eyes in her dreams.

Stupid
. She also remembered that in her disorientation, she’d attacked him. In the scuffle, she’d given him a black eye, while he’d been careful not to hurt her.

“Girl’s been through enough, Masters,” Chef said, his voice rumbling with displeasure.

Masters was still staring at her. Then his jaw firmed. He tugged her away from the bench. “We all have. I need answers.”

Avery sighed. “Fine. Let’s dance.”

***

Roth turned and put his hands on his hips. Special Agent Stillman sat at the battered metal table in the interrogation room, her face composed. They’d been at it for an hour, and he’d gotten nothing.

She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes. When she caught him staring, she lifted her chin, her eyes sparking.

She had spirit, that was for sure. She’d looked the same way when she’d come out of the tank—wet and bedraggled, but fighting. He turned away, looking at the one-way mirror back into the corridor. He knew his good friend, Captain Laura Bladon, head of the interrogation team and the prison cells, was out there, observing.

He turned back. “Okay, so you say you can’t remember anything about the invasion or how you ended up in the Genesis Facility.”

Avery huffed out a breath. “Yes. I’ve mentioned that, about a hundred times.”

“What’s your last clear memory? What do you remember?”

A crease appeared on her brow and she tapped one long finger on the table. “I believe it was the first meeting we had with the Gizzida.”

“So they made contact and asked for a meet?”

She nodded. “They contacted the Coalition leaders, told us they were here in our solar system. We suspected they may have contacted other world leaders, as well. But they swore us to secrecy, so it was never confirmed.”