Twisted Mercy (Red Team Book 4) (10 page)

Feral stumbled down the stairs and went past her on his way to his old car. “I’m sorry,” she said. He didn’t look at her. He slammed his car door and drove off, leaving her alone with a very angry Mad Dog. He was crazy mad. She realized the nickname Feral gave him fit perfectly.
 

Mads stepped in front of her. She lifted her gaze. “Do what you want to me. I don’t care. I’m not going to be here long. But Feral, he looks up to you. You’re a hero to him.”

“Whatever I want?” Mads asked, ignoring her latest plea for his hang-around.

He stepped into her space. She put her hands on his chest—to stop him or brace herself, she wasn’t sure. She cringed when he palmed her face, expecting a strike. Her reaction made his nostrils flare. He bent his head and captured her mouth, pulling her up against his body with his other hand.
 

His rough beard ground into her chin and cheek as he deepened the kiss. She could feel the ring in his lip. She drew a deep breath, filling her nose with his amazing scent. Soap and heat and leather. Like his shirt that she still had. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding herself against him.
 

His hand moved to the back of her head, his fingers in her hair, spread wide, controlling her movements, holding her in place for the assault of his mouth. He didn’t thrust his tongue in a dominating way, but searched out hers, danced against it.

Her body responded fast, taken by his strength and gentleness. A sensation swept through her, curling and burrowing in her lower abdomen. She arched against him, driven by an insatiable need to touch her body to his, to feel him, learn him.

He lifted her, spreading her legs on either side of his hips. She took hold of his face and kissed him as he carried her over to an old wooden picnic table. He lowered her to the surface. She moaned in complaint at the easing of space between their bodies. He hooked his arms beneath her knees and gripped her hips, grinding the rigid bar of his cock against her core.

Her hands went to the zipper of her hoodie, ripping it apart so that she could take it off. He took hold of her hands and moved them to either side of her head, leaning over her as he pinned them to the picnic table. He smiled down at her, smiled as if the hunger writhing in her left him wholly unaffected.

“Mads—”

He stopped moving. His stillness caught her attention. She met his hard gaze. “I think that’s enough punishment for one day,” he said.

He pulled away from her, leaving the cool evening air to congeal her raging senses. She lay unmoving, listening to his footsteps in the gravel as he crossed to his cabin, listening until she could no longer hear them. When he was long gone, she pulled herself together and retreated to her tent. She crumpled on her sleeping bag, folding her knees up.
 

What had just happened? She’d never reacted to a man the way she just had for Mad Dog. Ever. She’d owned nothing of that interaction. He’d played her against herself, giving nothing of himself.
 

She bowed her head and rested her forehead on her knees, trying to find a way to shut out all the crazy that had happened tonight.
 

CHAPTER NINE

It was close to ten o’clock the next morning when Hope ventured into Mad Dog’s cabin. She’d been ready to head back to the compound for a couple of hours, but didn’t want to face the biker after last night’s fiasco. She had no idea how long he would hold on to a grudge for what she’d done, but seriously doubted he would have slept it off overnight.

She made a cold breakfast of cereal. Mad Dog was showering. When he came out of the bathroom, she was standing in the kitchen, trying to take up as little space as possible. God, what was he going to do to Feral today, because of her?

He stepped into the narrow galley space between the fridge and the sink. His damp hair curled above his pierced ears. His tawny eyes looked like he’d never had a friend. She didn’t know what to say to him, so she said nothing. He opened the fridge and guzzled half the quart of milk she’d put in there.
 

“Want some eggs or something?” she offered.
 

“No.” He looked her over. “You ready to head in?”

“Yeah.” She tried not to let her gaze linger on the fur of his bare chest or the dark line that led from his navel to the edge of his jeans. She drew a breath, and tested the waters. “Mad Dog, about Feral…”

“Forget him. He’s not your worry. He’s mine.”

“But it’s my fault.”

The hard look he gave her did little to set her nerves at ease. “You should have thought about that before getting him in trouble.” He walked over to a closet and came out pulling his T-shirt on. He sat on his futon and put his socks and boots on. She washed her bowl quickly, then followed him outside, afraid she’d miss her ride over to the compound.
 

He was sitting on his idling bike. He looked at her as he handed her his helmet. She put it on then straddled his bike. She didn’t want to hold on to him, but he was cutting corners too close for her and going too fast on the dirt road. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him.
 

Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed his driving evened out once she was holding him.
 

* * *

The garage door opened as Selena pulled around the side of the house. Greer must have seen her drive up. Kit stood by the only open spot. He nodded a greeting. Eddie was there, too, with Tank. Selena gritted her teeth, realizing the team would never forget or forgive the fact that she’d brought Amir into their home. Hell, she wasn’t going to get over that herself. She was surprised Kit had asked her to stay.

When she got out of the SUV, the dog was already at work. Eddie smiled at her. “Just protocol.”

Selena nodded. “No problem.” She popped the back hatch open. Tank stood up on the bumper and sniffed the cargo area.
 

“Hey,” Kit said.
 

“Hi.”
 

Eddie finished up, then took Tank out around the back of the garage for a walk. Selena remained standing there, awkwardly waiting for Kit to hand out orders or to dismiss her.

“Need help?” he asked.

“No. I can manage.”

“I know you can, but do you want help?”

Selena turned to him. “With all due respect, sir, I got this.”

Kit shrugged. “Too bad. I’m already here.” He reached for a couple of boxes.
 

“I said I didn’t need help.”
 

He stopped and looked at her again. “I don’t want us to start this way, Selena.”

“I don’t need the strong guys to carry my weight.”

“I know you don’t.”

“So just let me deal with this. Sir.”

Kit shoved the boxes back into the car. He sighed, then faced her. “Things are different here. For one, you don’t need to ‘sir’ me, but you do have to follow my orders. For another, you aren’t alone here. You’re part of a team. You got the backing of a team.”

She flashed a glare at him. “It was my understanding that I would be more adjunct than member. My work is separate from the team’s.”

“Fuck that. We all work for the same man—Owen. We all have the same mission. Protect our people, our base, our community, and our country.”

Her nostrils flared. She considered leaving everything in her SUV and turning back around. It wasn’t too late to back out of this. “I’ve been on a team, sir. Lots of them. I agreed to this assignment because it lets me work alone.”

“No one works alone here, feel me? I get that your last unit had shit for brains and couldn’t accept having a female among them. This group’s not like that. We’re a real team. We pull for each other. If we see one of our own in need, we jump in. It’s gotta be that way, ’cause we’re all we’ve got.”
 

She stood her ground.
 

Kit shut his eyes and bowed his head, waiting a second before he looked at her. “Make no mistake: I’ve seen firsthand what you can do, Selena. Your abilities are what got you a place on this team. The guys here can be bastards at times, sure. We all get and give our fair share of it. Something tells me you’re going to fit right in.”
 

He paused. “If anyone oversteps your boundaries, make it clear they crossed a line. If they continue, escalate it to me or Owen.”

She frowned. “I just told you you’d crossed a line and you ignored me.”

“Seriously? Your boundaries have to make sense. Pride’s a piss-poor line to draw.”

The door to the house opened, and Val and Angel came out. Without asking or waiting for instruction, they helped themselves to some boxes, a suitcase, and a large army duffle bag.
 

“Your old room, Sel?” Angel asked. Kit smiled at her, reading the irritation in her face.
 

Selena sighed. “Yes. Please.” The four of them emptied her vehicle in a single trip. The guys set her things in her room. Kit took off, but Angel and Val remained behind.

“Need help unpacking?” Val asked.

“No. No, I do not. Go.” She pointed toward the door.
 

He and Angel exchanged a disgusted look and turned toward the door. “She’s not very friendly,” Angel complained, as if she weren’t walking right behind them.

“No. She’s not. But at least we get to keep her,” Val answered. “You saw what she did to Amir. She’s legit badass.”

She shut the door behind them, then leaned against it. As she considered her new quarters—and teammates—a wide grin helped itself to her face.

* * *

“Rocco, can you join us in the bunker?”
Greer asked over the comm unit.

 
“Roger that.” Rocco looked at Mandy. She was just pulling Zavi from his shower. She smiled up at him, curiosity in her eyes. She wrapped a superhero towel around Zavi’s waist. His boy was patiently standing between her knees as she toweled off his hair.
 

“I have to go.”

“We’ll be fine. Take your time.”

“Daddy, are you going to read me a story tonight?” Zavi asked.

“Not tonight, Zavi,” Mandy answered for him. “I’ll read to you, though. Why don’t you go get into your pajamas and pick the story?” Zavi ran out of the bathroom, dropping his towel as he turned the corner.

Mandy started to straighten the bathroom. She looked at Rocco. “Everything okay?”

“So far.” Rocco pulled her into his arms. “I don’t know how long I will be tonight.” He slipped a strand of her copper hair behind her ear. “You’ll tuck him in for me?”

She kissed him and smiled. “You bet. Don’t worry about us.”

Rocco went downstairs and down the short hallway to the den. Inside, he used the hidden staircase to go down to the bunker. The lights were dimmed in the bunker’s main room. He crossed the length of the large conference room and went into the corridor that gave access to the bathroom, the kitchen, the bunkroom, and the ops room at the end of the hall.

Light spilled into the corridor from the ops room. Greer was sitting at a bank of computer panels. Kit stood next to him. They both nodded at Rocco when he stepped inside the room.

“Hey, Rocco. We got some footage of Jafaar,” Greer said as he put it up on one of the large screens.

“Do you recognize him?” Kit asked, watching him closely.

Rocco turned his attention to the video clip playing on the screen. Jafaar wore a dark, striped collared shirt tucked into jeans. He was slim, of medium height, with black or dark brown hair that was cut short along the sides and longer on top. His Ferragamos were sleek. His appearance had a European vibe that stood in sharp contrast to the ranch wear of the visitors moving about the common areas of Yusef’s motel.

“I can’t see his face yet.” They watched the video feed for another few minutes, until they caught a frontal shot of Jafaar’s face. Greer zoomed in on a detail of him. Rocco stared at him for a long minute, trying to place Jafaar among those he’d interacted with in Afghanistan. “I don’t recognize him.”

Greer put up a small screen detailing Jafaar’s vitae. It showed he’d attended an American high school and college. He owned a flower shop in Denver. Greer posted other images of Jafaar from his passport and driver’s license.
 

Kit was watching him intensely. Rocco shook his head. “I don’t know him.”

Kit nodded. “Then you’re clear to attend the meeting in person. Angel will be your backup.”
 

“I’ll call Jafaar in the morning to let him know things shifted on my schedule, freeing up the time,” Rocco said.

* * *

Rocco sat up straight, yanking himself out of his dream. His chest was damp with sweat, and he was sucking air as if he’d just finished a marathon.

“Rocco? Are you okay?” Mandy’s soft voice whispered against him in the dark. She reached out to touch his arm, her palm cool against his heated skin.

Rocco moved to the edge of the bed. The dream faded slowly, leaving tendrils pulling at him in the shadows of the dark room. Mandy quietly scooted over to sit next to him. She put a hand on his thigh as she rubbed his back, anchoring him to this side of the nightmare.
 

He sat a few minutes next to her, then pulled away and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

Flipping the light on, he studied himself in the mirror. The light chased the last of the dream away, but the fear it had seeded in his soul remained. In his dream, he’d seen Jafaar in Kadisha’s village in the Hindu Kush. Jafaar had been greeted like a distant cousin, welcomed among the men.

Rocco ran cold water over his hands, watching it spill into the basin. The dream had seemed so real. What if he’d been wrong when he told Kit he didn’t recognize Jafaar? What if he’d been in the village and Rocco simply didn’t remember him? What if Jafaar belonged to the group of memories he’d never recaptured, ones lost forever in the shadows of what had happened after Kadisha blew up their home?
 

What if nothing he believed was real and none of his memories were to be trusted?

Rocco dried his hands and face, then shut off the lights and left the bathroom. If the shadows were the truth and his memories a lie, then tomorrow he could well die. He kneeled on the foot of the bed. Mandy had returned to her side of the bed. He crawled over her until he was on top of her, feeling her slight body beneath him.