Scarecrow

by Zoe Dawson

  The upright guy threw another punch and Scarecrow jerked his head back out of the way but caught the thug’s punch before it could connect to his jaw. With his fingers encircling the other man’s wrist, he twisted his arm, spun him around, and shoved him over the mosaic table. Ruthlessly, Scarecrow wedged his knee between the thug’s knees to keep him pinned in place and jammed his contorted arm higher up his back until the guy cried out in agony.

  As the second guy came up from the ground, Scarecrow pulled the gun from its holster at the small of his subdued assailant’s back and pointed it at him. “Stay down.” He saw the guy shift and Scarecrow said, “I would think twice about that asshole. I don’t point a gun at someone if I’m not prepared to pull the trigger.”

  “Wow, you guys are getting soft. An old granny with arthritis in her hips could take you.”

  Scarecrow looked over at Scarlett. She didn’t look the least bit ruffled, more amused.

  “You know these two?” Scarecrow asked, deadly serious.

  “Yes, let him go. That’s Keith Stone, and the one on the ground is Damien Kessler.”

  He stepped back and stood next to Scarlett as Stone, who had been bent over the table, straightened. “Damn, Yank. You almost broke my arm.”

  Scarecrow uncocked the gun and flipped it around, offering it to him. “Sorry about that. I thought you were attacking Scarlett. Have you been watching her?”

  Stone took his weapon and settled it back in its holster.

  “Scarlett, is it?” Kessler asked as he got to his feet, ignoring the hand Scarecrow offered to him. “Ha, ain’t he cute. That bird don’t need no protection. Yeah, we been watching her. Taking turns.”

  “Brits. Let me guess. MI-6.”

  “And you?”

  “Navy SEAL, Petty Officer First Class Arlo Porter.”

  “That’s our…Scarlett,” Stone said. “She only goes for first class.”

  She chuckled. “Come on inside. You, too, Scarecrow.”

  They went through the French doors and into the kitchen where she brewed each of them some coffee. They sat down at her kitchen table.

  “You know it’s not nice to go off the grid. Not when we need you on the job,” Stone said, taking a sip. “Sir Rodney is fit to be tied. He wants you back.”

  “Why?”

  “We have a threat.” He looked over at Scarecrow. “Yanks are roundabout responsible.”

  Scarecrow sat up straighter. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Guns, lots of them. American military issue, stolen from what I gathered. They must have been stashed at a different location than the warhead you retrieved. The MBFF is on the warpath. Word is they’re gunning for Parliament. There’s an open threat to the rail system, too.”

  Kessler smiled, showing crooked teeth. “You’re the best, sweetheart.”

  “I walked away for a reason. Tell Sir Rodney they’ll have to do this without me.”

  “Tell him we’ll be there,” Scarecrow said.

  The change in her was immediate. She turned to look at him, her gaze narrowed.

  “Oy, I wouldn’t want to be you, mate,” Kessler said.

  Stone laughed.

  She gave them both ice queen looks, and they rose. “Thanks for the coffee. We’ll be outside waiting for you. He said not to leave without you.” He started for the door, Kessler following. “Oh, and go easy on the Yank, we don’t need the Americans after us.”

  Scarecrow folded his arms across his chest and waited for them to exit the house.

  “Does this mean I’m not getting any jambalaya?”

  She rose from the table and leaned over him. “Who do you think you are telling me what to do? You know why I’m here. I don’t want to go back to MI-6. I’m done.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She closed her eyes as if to gather her composure. “Of all the high-handed…. If you think I’m going to just give up what I’m doing here and be at the beck and call of British intelligence, you better think again.”

  He rose and gently curled his hands around her arms. “You have a job to do that’s extremely important. London is at risk, and you took an oath to protect your country.”

  “Oh, my God. Are you really spewing this queen and country crap right now? I didn’t join SIS for anything patriotic, Crow. I joined for revenge.”

  With an irritable sigh, she broke away from him as if his touch was too distracting. She paced to the French door leading out to the patio. The sun had completely set, and the rising moon’s light puddled on the paving stones.

  She ran her hand over her face. “He killed my family. My country was a battlefield, and the man who had taken away my safety, my life, was walking around free and enjoying all the spoils of war.”

  It was the argument he expected. “I understand how you feel and why you don’t want to go back. But I think you’ll regret it. We didn’t keep those warheads and guns out of enemy hands, and that’s on us. But I’ll be damned if I stand by while innocent people pay the price of that failure.”

  He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He could clearly see her face in the glass and that he had struck a chord.

  “For all the innocents in Kirikhanistan and for my adopted country,” she said, her voice catching. “You have really changed me,” she whispered.

  Just then his cell phone rang. He looked at the illuminated face and clenched his jaw.

  He was going with her, and it looked like his team was deploying, too.

  Naval Base Coronado

  San Diego, California

  Wicked sat next to Ruckus as the transport plane took off from Coronado. Ruckus glanced at him, focusing on the bruise on his jaw.

  “I ran into a door.”

  Ruckus looked around at the other team members.

  He focused on Kid, and he squirmed. “A lot of that going around?”

  Kid’s weak laugh was a dead giveaway as Ruckus arched his brow. “Yeah, those doors, they jump out at you without any warning,” Kid said as Tank nudged him.

  Wicked sighed. They were as transparent as plastic wrap. But what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas.

  Kat was sitting next to Wicked, and she was completely distracted. She looked even more exhausted than the last time he’d seen her. There were dark circles under her eyes and a white bandage peeked out the top of her olive-green T-shirt.

  He leaned over and said, “Is everything all right?”

  She shot him a venomous look. “It’s none of your goddamned business.” She rose and moved to the back of the plane.

  He caught Hollywood’s attention and he shrugged. Wicked should have known better.

  They were heading for Lakenheath to give the Brits another assist with the MBFF who apparently were quite pissed off that commandos had raided their base and confiscated their shiny ballistic toy. He glanced at Kat again, but her eyes were closed.

  Hollywood rose and then settled in beside him.

  He whispered, “Do you think Ruckus knows you’ve kicked our asses?”

  “Of course he knows,” Wicked said under his breath. “Kid pretty much confirmed it.”

  “I did not,” Kid whispered.

  Tank laughed softly. “You so did. Chaos is the appropriate name for you, my friend.”

  “Did not. I was as cool as a cucumber.”

  Cowboy set down his weapon and slung his arm around Kid. “As unpredictable as a crazy squirrel on the highway.”

  “We just want to run over the indecisive little fucker,” Wicked said.

  Kid looked back at him. “You giving me ‘the face?’”

  “When he starts with Sex and The City references, he’s just pulling your chain, man.”

  “Are you, Kid?”

  “I could write it on a Post-It for you, or better yet, keep pushing and it’s The Way We Were. All. The. Way. To. England.”

  Everyone groaned.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You start that shit and I’ll shove my boot-s
weat-saturated socks in your piehole,” Ruckus said without opening his eyes. “And, by the way, you so did, Kid.”

  “I don’t know, LT. I think they taste like chicken.”

  There were gagging noises and choking laughter. “Chaos still rules,” Ruckus said.

  “Will you all just shut up,” Kat said, her voice carrying from the back of the plane.

  Silence descended.

  “Who pissed in her Wheaties?” Kid whispered.

  Who, indeed, Wicked thought.

  Hours later when they set down, Wicked woke up, jarred by the landing. They filed off the plane and there was a shout. He turned at the sound of Scarecrow’s voice.

  He walked across the tarmac, and holy hell, the woman next to him put every supermodel to shame. Platinum blond hair, a pink sweater that was laminated to her upper body, and a black leather mini-shirt that only accented her long, long legs ending in simple black heels. She was almost as beautiful as Kat.

  And Scarecrow was possessive of her. He could see it in every line of his teammate’s body. Huh? Was this the woman he’d been boffing? The neighbor?

  Her?

  No wonder he said it was complicated. MI-6 if he wasn’t mistaken.

  “Yana?” Kat said, and the two women made a beeline for each other. Kat wrapped her arms around her. They stood there for a few minutes. “My God, it’s so good to see you.”

  “Fuck me,” Hollywood muttered.

  If the stud kept it up, Scarecrow was going to tag and bag him. Wicked would love popcorn and a front row seat.

  13

  Avery Walk, Battersea, SW11, London

  Scarlett knew there was going to be a discussion between her and Scarecrow. She hadn’t exactly told him her real name. She’d brought him to her Avery Walk condo. He was upstairs right now taking a shower.

  “You and Crow, huh?” Kat said, leaning back on the white leather couch.

  “It’s a small world.” She held up her glass of whiskey, the good stuff she kept in her cupboard. Kat collided her glass with a clink of cut crystal.

  “You look like hell, mate. Is it Cross?”

  “Orion is my Cross to bear,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. “I can’t tell you what’s going on, but suffice it to say I’ve had a pretty bad few weeks. The worse since I joined The Company.”

  “I’m sorry. This job will rob you, Kat. I quit MI-6.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  She jutted out her chin and gestured toward the stairs. “His doing.”

  “He does have the kind of charm that is hard to resist. Add in that Southern accent and it’s game over.”

  “Cheers on that.”

  “He could be a CIA agent. He’s got what it takes. He’s a hunter and damn good at it.”

  “You trying to recruit him?” The CIA always had their own agenda just as SIS did.

  “I’m always looking for officers who can hold their own.” Her voice turned bitter. “Less loss that way, don’t you know. Training is expensive, and he’s already got the skills.”

  “Another one?” Scarlett asked, reaching for Kat’s glass, realizing full well that something had happened to her, and when a person was in the spook business, it was never something good. The kind of something that meant deaths in the field. She was top-notch, and Scarlett would follow her into hell, but where Scarlett had banked her emotions, Kat hadn’t been able to do that fully.

  “No, I’ve been drinking too much lately, and we have a briefing in an hour.” She closed her eyes, her voice strained. “I have no ties. I lie to my family. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’ve got to set things right—”

  The sound of Scarecrow coming down the stairs made Kat retreat into herself. He looked delicious as usual. The weariness and scruff looked good on him. But it was clear Kat was on the edge.

  “What’s the plan?”

  Kat rose and gave him a half-hearted smile. “Always ready for action, huh, Crow?”

  “You know it, lady.”

  “We’re briefing in less than forty-five minutes. Yana knows where to go. I’ll see you there.”

  Scarecrow’s eyes narrowed when Kat used Scarlett’s real name. Bugger it.

  When the door closed behind Kat, Scarecrow came around the couch, snagged her glass, and took a gulp of the whiskey. “Smooth. Just like you.”

  “Don’t give me a hard time. I was into my persona, and I guess I wanted to be your Scarlett. It feels more real to me than Yana.”

  “Yana?”

  “Kozlov.”

  “I like it. Much more badass sounding than Scarlett.”

  “I don’t know. She was pretty tough in Gone with The Wind.” She took the glass back and finished it off, her tongue and throat burning, then the punch of the afterglow. “We going to argue?” She stuck her bottom lip out. “I don’t know about you, but I like to shag before a mission, takes the edge off a bit.”

  She watched in fascination as a slow, seductive smile curved the corners of his full lips and his gaze turned smoky green with desire. She knew she was getting her way when he stepped forward and nuzzled the side of her neck with that incredible mouth of his.

  Before she could say anything more, he kissed her. Like mad. Hot and passionate and blowing any control he had right out of the water.

  He overcame her, slaughtered her with sensations, and Scarlett’s legs softened like warm putty as he back-walked her to the dining table and trapped her against the lip with his big, beautiful body. She groaned as he cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple, sending a pulse of heat through her veins, stirring every cell and making them scream.

  So many places on her wanted to be handled, touched, smothered by this powerful, sexy man, to make her feel like she existed, and not floating between identities and missions.

  His hand was heavy as it rode over her hip, pausing to squeeze, then slid underneath her skirt to the waistband of her panties, slipping inside.

  Suddenly her world exploded. Her legs gave out. He parted her and pushed deep inside, stroking her toward a climax.

  She breathed his name over and over and he watched her writhe in his arms, his gaze glancing down to watch her hips following his moves. “Christ, sugar. You melt on my tongue.”

  She yanked his T-shirt over his head. The fresh, just-showered smell of him was laced with spice and heat. The thick muscle and wide chest were all there for her taking, for her mouth and hands as she licked and teased, kissed and sucked.

  “Off,” she said, pulling at his jeans.

  His fingers plunged into her softness, then retreated, over and over, never giving her a chance to catch her breath. Scarlett gave in and leaned back over his arms, spreading wider, then hooked her leg around his calf. He pressed her to the table in a tangle of arms and legs, and she went crazy on his clothes, pushing his jeans down and diving her hand inside.

  Scarecrow groaned when she closed around him and he flexed in her palm. “Jesus, darlin’.”

  For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring her touch. This woman knew her own power, sliding her fingers over the slick tip of him as he lengthened in her hand. It wasn’t hard to guess that she wanted him on the edge, as helpless as she was, and she showed him no mercy. He hiked up the skirt and she spread her thighs, urging him between, and guided him a little into her.

  He trembled, pushing without control. “Fuck, woman.”

  She guided him. “Inside me,” she whispered in his ear. “Deeply.” The hot words pushed him over the edge, and he thrust.

  She gasped and arched on the table, gripping his shoulders, then went to her back. He held her hips, plunging into her slowly. She was velvet tight. His dick throbbed, as he watched her face. Her body rippled beneath him with pleasure, and he called her name.

  She looked at him, her features softening, her violet eyes glowing with open desire as she fractured her barriers even more. Scarecrow didn’t know what he wanted from her, but his body inside hers was more than two people satisfying a need.
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br />   It was goddamned more, and he pushed her legs around his waist, and she laughed. He pulled her up to him, her hands cupping his face, her gaze locked with his. It was sexy and personal, watching her features, the passion in her eyes as he thrust back. She was coming, he could see it, feel it, and he wanted to tell her what she made him feel, but the words were trapped in his throat.

  “Arlo, love,”

  He pushed her to her back, his hips pistoning, and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

  She moaned and groaned. “I’ve got you, sugar,” he whispered. She arched to meet him, cradling his face, and her eyes went glossy.

  He kissed her, his thrusts quick and smooth as he whispered in her ear, “Give it to me.” The sound of her surrender was like the sweetest note he could ever hear. Her muscles clawed him, sent him beyond the boundaries. In one hard thrust, he erupted and pressed deeper, fusing to her.

  She reveled in his pleasure as he reveled in hers. He held her tightly and watched. Her breath hitched, her body jerked, and she flexed, melting into him, pulling him tighter. The moment when she peaked, tears in her eyes, her heart in her expression, sent tenderness through him to soften his movements. He closed his arms around her as she rode the throbbing sensations with him.

  He’d never forget the emotions she’d shown him. It would stay with him for a long time, he thought, and it changed his perspective. Only made everything more complicated.

  Her phone rang, and he shifted so that she could reach it. “Kozlov,” she said, and the sound of her real name echoed through him.

  Yeah, complicated didn’t really cover this. This was beyond complicated, slipping into impossible.

  She disconnected the call. “Our car will be here in five. Get your gear together. We’re not coming back here.”

  He moved off her.

  Show time.