Her Fierce Warrior (X-Ops #4)

by Paige Tyler

  “We can finish the rest later,” he said as he stood.

  Carrying the box into the kitchen, he stuck it in the fridge, then went back to the living room. Minka was sitting with her legs crisscrossed under her, Boris clutched to her chest, and a far off look on her face. Angelo sat beside her and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her knee.

  “It’s going to be okay, Minka.”

  She nodded but didn’t look convinced.

  “Zarina and the DCO know a lot about what those doctors did to you,” he said. “Zarina’s done some amazing work helping another hybrid like you get his rage under control.”

  She blinked. Damn, she had some seriously long eyelashes. “There’s another…person like me at the place we were today?”

  “Tanner Howland.” Angelo jerked his chin at the plush sloth. “The guy who gave Boris to Zarina.”

  Her fingers gently caressed the stuffed animal. “Hybrid. What does that word mean?”

  Angelo probably wasn’t the best person to explain it, but he was the only one there right then. “It means something—or someone in the case of you and Tanner—made from combining two different parts. You and Tanner are part human, part animal, kind of like a shifter.”

  “Shifter?”

  Now he’d gone and done it. Angelo didn’t know if he was going to make any sense, but he tried to answer her question the best he could without getting too complicated.

  “Remember the dark-haired woman who was with Landon when you first met him today?” he asked. “She’s a shifter. Unlike you and Tanner though, she was born part animal. You and Tanner were injected with something to make you that way.”

  Minka considered that. “So that is why she smells different. And the woman who let me use her clothes—Layla—she’s a shifter, too? She smells very much like the dark-haired woman.”

  Angelo nodded. “Yep. Layla and Ivy are sisters.”

  She fell silent, as if thinking about everything Angelo had told her. That gave him a chance to ask something he was curious about.

  “How did you end up in that village where my team and I found you?”

  If Minka was surprised by the change in subject, she didn’t show it. Instead, she told him how she had been captured while crossing the mountain pass that led from her home to the small U.S. military compound where she worked. When she described the two doctors who had experimented on her, it wasn’t hard to figure out that they were the same ones who’d hurt Ivy. Angelo knew for a fact that the DCO was going to be very interested in what Minka knew about these guys. He just hoped they cared as much about helping Minka.

  “I don’t know how long I was a prisoner,” Minka admitted. “They captured me in midsummer, then moved me around a lot, so I lost all track of time or even where I was.” She shivered. “It was just one long, horrible nightmare.”

  She obviously didn’t want to talk about the details of what had happened while the doctors held her, and Angelo didn’t push. He had dealt with the same kind of issue in Special Forces. When guys went through a rough patch, you couldn’t get them to talk about it until they were ready. Minka would open up when it was the right time for her.

  He smiled as she yawned. She looked exhausted. So was he, for that matter.

  “You ready to go to bed?” he asked.

  Minka’s big, brown eyes widened.

  It took him a second to figure out what he’d said, and when he finally did, he chuckled. “I meant that you get the bed. I get the couch.”

  She blushed. “I am a little tired.”

  They took turns using the bathroom; then he led her into Landon’s bedroom.

  “I’ll be right out there on the couch,” he reminded her. “We can leave the door open if you want. And if you need anything during the night, just call my name. I’m a light sleeper.”

  Minka nodded, then climbed into bed, Boris in hand. Angelo waited while she got the pillows and blankets situated to her liking.

  “You good?” he asked.

  She nodded but didn’t look very sure of her answer. Well, he was going to have to go back into the living room at some point. It wasn’t like he could crawl into bed with her—as much as he would like to. Shit. He shouldn’t be having thoughts like that. She needed to feel safe and protected right then, not have some guy pawing all over her.

  “Good night, Minka.” He smiled as she snuggled into the blankets a little deeper. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He flipped the light switch but left the door open. On the way to the living room, he stopped to snag a blanket and pillow from the linen closet in the bathroom. Man, his buddy had seriously bought into the whole wedded bliss thing. The Landon he used to know would have been satisfied with a stack of army-green wool blankets and those striped pillows that shed feathers all the time. Then again, if he and Ivy did stay there occasionally to make the place look lived in, Angelo was pretty sure she wouldn’t have been down with that.

  He took off his T-shirt and jeans, then flopped down on the couch in just his boxer briefs. Damn, he was beat. Before stumbling on Minka, he’d been humping through the mountains of Tajikistan for nearly two months straight. He hadn’t slept on anything more comfortable than a pile of leaves, and the couch felt damn good.

  He ran his hand through his long hair, then folded his arm behind his head. Thinking about the team made him wonder when he’d join up with them. It was obvious Minka had developed an attachment to him because he made her feel safe. Angelo didn’t have a problem admitting he felt a certain attachment to Minka as well. But he was Special Forces, and SF lived in the field.

  Angelo muttered a curse. Where had that thought even come from? He’d known Minka for a little more than twenty-four hours. It wasn’t like they were going to start dating anytime soon. Shoving that thought aside, he rolled onto his side when movement behind him made a tingle run down his neck. He instinctively reached down for his weapon, then realized he didn’t have one—and that the movement behind him had to be Minka.

  She stopped beside him, wordlessly gazing down at him, her eyes glowing with the slightest tinge of red. Through the dim light coming in through the window, Angelo could see her standing there in her yoga pants and tank top, clutching Boris to her chest, her face tense.

  He was about to ask if she’d heard a strange noise, but then he decided that would be a stupid question. If her hearing was like Tanner’s, she could probably hear people talking at the far end of the corridor. She’d probably come out here because she couldn’t sleep so far away from him.

  He considered offering her the couch while he settled for the floor next to it, but he instinctively knew that wasn’t going to work. She needed contact, and there was really only one way to do that.

  Swearing to himself that this was probably really stupid, Angelo pulled back the blanket and made room for her on the couch beside him.

  Minka stared at his naked chest before her gaze slowly slid down to his boxer briefs and bare legs. With her hybrid senses, he knew she could see every little detail. But she didn’t say a word. She simply climbed onto the couch and silently curled up beside him. She adjusted Boris so he wouldn’t be in the way, then gently rested her cheek on Angelo’s shoulder. He pulled the blanket up over both of them, and within seconds, she was completely relaxed and breathing deeply.

  The soft purr of contentment she let out was so beautiful, it produced an amazing sensation inside him—a need to protect this woman stronger than anything he’d ever felt in his life.

  That was when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to leave Minka anytime soon—regardless of being Special Forces.

  Chapter 5

  Jayson Harmon stirred the burrito meat in the frying pan on the stove, adjusting the temperature with his free hand, so it wouldn’t burn. He didn’t want to have to toss the whole thing in the garbage and call for takeout. Not tonight. Because tonight was special.

  He was making dinner—and burritos were one of the few things he knew how to make besi
des spaghetti and meatloaf—to celebrate the end of Layla’s probationary period in the covert division of the Department of Homeland Security where his former commanding officer, Landon Donovan, and Layla’s sister, Ivy, also worked. Layla had been there for three months and was now considered a fully qualified psychologist for the covert organization. The status change meant Layla could work completely on her own with her patients. Jayson knew how important that was to her—hence the special dinner.

  He’d met Layla Halliwell at Landon and Ivy’s wedding back in June of last year, and the connection between them had been intense and instantaneous. She looked like a supermodel, but there was way more to it than that. She was a bubbly, outgoing person who was as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. It was impossible to be with her without some of her optimism rubbing off on you, and it wasn’t too much of a stretch to say Layla and her optimistic outlook had turned his life around.

  Jayson had been in a pretty bad place when they’d met. He’d gone through a few back surgeries, and even though most of the rocket-propelled grenade shrapnel from that ambush in Afghanistan had been removed, there was very little to be done for the severe amount of nerve, muscle, and bone damage he’d sustained. He couldn’t walk without support and tremendous pain, and didn’t want to think about what kind of life he was going to have in front of him.

  A little voice in the back of his head had told him this was as good as it was going to get and that it wasn’t good enough. He’d mentally checked out of his physical therapy, started hitting the pain meds way more than he should have, and allowed his mind to go to some dark places where he wondered why he even bothered trying.

  Then, when things had been their darkest, Layla had walked into his life. He had no idea why someone as beautiful and vivacious as she was had taken an interest in him, but she had. The next thing he knew, she was coming to his room at Walter Reed every day, playing video games with him, taking him for walks around the recovery ward, even attending his physical therapy sessions with him.

  Layla had pulled him out of the funk he’d been in, getting him serious about his rehab and making him think that he just might have a future. Sure, every once in a while he still found himself wallowing in self-pity, but that shit stopped the moment he saw Layla. And when it had been time to move out of Walter Reed and transition to outpatient therapy, Layla had been right there with him, helping him find this apartment and making sure he could get around it okay.

  He owed her so damn much. Tonight, he was just trying to repay a little bit of his debt to her.

  Jayson used a spoon to dip out a small amount of the simmering meat, blowing on it before he gave it a taste. It wasn’t too bad, but it could definitely use a little more kick. He turned and reached for the red pepper in the spice rack. A sharp pain immediately shot out from his lower back, zipping down his legs and all the way up to his neck.

  “Shit!”

  He reached out and grabbed the counter, praying his legs wouldn’t give out on him. Layla was going to be there any minute, and he sure as hell didn’t want her finding him in a crumpled heap on the floor. That would just suck all.

  He stood there sweating for a few minutes, torn between reaching for his cane leaning against the refrigerator in the corner or stumbling over to one of the chairs at his small kitchen table.

  Finally deciding to go for the chair, he turned the heat down under the pan, put on the lid, then carefully moved over to the table. Every frigging step drove a railroad spike of agony through his lower back, but he made it. As he slowly lowered himself down into a chair, he briefly considered taking a pain pill but quickly dismissed the idea. Tonight was all about celebrating with Layla, and he didn’t want to feel—and sound—doped up.

  So instead, he sat there in the chair and breathed through the pain. They’d tried to teach him about dealing with it without resorting to narcotics at Walter Reed, but he hadn’t been very attentive during the sessions. So Layla had taught him to do it her way, with a mix of deep breathing exercises, meditation, and visualization. He’d thought it would never work, but it had, and now she had him doing it five days a week and also anytime he had a flare-up—like now.

  It wasn’t magic, but putting his mind somewhere else for a while gave the pain a chance to dull somewhat, and when he came back out of his relaxed state, he found he could manage it okay.

  He was back at the stove finishing up the refried beans and the Spanish rice when the doorbell rang.

  “Come on in,” he called.

  He heard the door open, then close. A moment later, Layla came into the kitchen, looking beautiful as always. Part Native American, she had long, dark hair and the most expressive brown eyes he’d ever seen. Sometimes, when the light caught them right, they almost looked as if they had a hint of green in them—like they did now, as she smiled and kissed his cheek.

  What had he done to be worthy of this amazing woman’s attention?

  “Need help with anything?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as they roamed over the table he’d already set.

  “Nah.” He grinned. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go wash up.”

  He had the food on the plates and was ladling extra salsa on the burritos when Layla came back in.

  “Mmm, it smells delicious,” she said as she sat down. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble, though.”

  Jayson sat down across from her. “Of course I did. Today was a big step in your career, and I want to help you celebrate it. Besides, I’ve wanted to do something special for you for a while, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  She smiled. “I would normally point out I haven’t done anything difficult, since you’ve done all the heavy lifting, but my mom always told me to accept a compliment with grace, so I’ll simply sit here and accept your appreciation—and your cooking. It looks amazing.”

  He chuckled as he picked up his knife and fork and began cutting into his burrito. “How was work today? Anything cool happen that you can tell me about?”

  Pretty much everything she worked on was classified, so if she couldn’t, that wouldn’t be unusual.

  But while they ate, she told him about a new patient who had just been brought in from the field with what appeared to be extreme PTSD and anger control issues.

  He glanced at her over the rim of his water glass. “Was she an operative who got hurt on a mission?”

  Layla shook her head. “Not really. She’s a person of interest that one of our part-time field agents came across. He brought her back thinking maybe we could help her out.”

  Jayson wanted to ask for more details, but it was obvious Layla was going out of her way to give him as much as she could without letting any classified information slip. He understood why. The work she did at the DHS was classified out the wazoo. Even though it shouldn’t have bothered him, it did. It wasn’t like she enjoyed not telling him—it was part of the job. But there was a time, before that RPG had filled his back full of metal fragments and nearly severed his spine, when he’d been part of all kinds of classified operations. He’d held a top secret clearance and had access to dozens of special programs that few people in the world even knew existed. Now his security clearance was just a piece of paper in his soon-to-be medically retired personnel record, and he was a broken man limping around with a cane, living vicariously through the career exploits of his girlfriend.

  It was pathetic, but sometimes it felt like he was watching her move farther and farther ahead while he slowly disappeared in her dust trail.

  Jayson pushed those selfish, whiny thoughts behind him. This night was about Layla, not him and his screwed-up insecurities.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Anything on the job front?”

  He shook his head. Jobs were kind of slim for a guy with nothing but a military history degree, a screwed-up back, and a requirement to miss work three times a week for physical therapy. Layla was doing everything she could to help, but she hadn’t had much luck, either.<
br />
  She reached across the small table and gave his hand a squeeze. “We’ll find something soon.”

  Jayson hoped she was right. He was still drawing a full lieutenant’s paycheck for now. But as soon as his medical retirement was finalized, his military pay would disappear and he’d be left with nothing but his VA 60 percent disability pay—barely over a thousand dollars a month. He had a pretty good amount of money in savings, most of which he’d inherited from his parents, but he couldn’t depend on that. He’d need a job soon, or Layla might be visiting him in a homeless shelter.

  “I had another run-in with Ivy today,” Layla said suddenly.

  Jayson winced at the hurt tone in her voice. Unfortunately, this was one area he definitely couldn’t help her with because he didn’t have a clue why Ivy had been such a jerk since Layla had started working at the DHS.

  “Did she actually say anything this time or just shoot you one of those glares of hers that could melt steel?”

  Most of Layla’s run-ins with her sister had been of the latter variety. Ivy and Landon had been out of the country when Layla had gotten the job at the DHS, but the moment Ivy had learned her sister would be working at the same organization as she was, she’d lost it. Since then, there had been a few biting words, but mostly just of lot of glaring. The only time Ivy had been even remotely friendly to Layla was when they’d all gotten together at their parents’ home for Christmas, and that was only because Ivy hadn’t wanted their mom and dad to know they were fighting.

  “Yeah, she said something all right.” Layla sighed. “That I was wasting all the money Mom and Dad had spent sending me to college.”

  Even after all the crap said back and forth over the last few months, that caught Jayson by surprise. “What the hell was the purpose of that, some kind of emotional blackmail?”

  Layla shrugged. “Probably. She couldn’t get me to quit any other way, so I suppose she thought pulling Mom and Dad into this might help.”

  “I really don’t understand this.” Across from him, Layla was looking longingly at the other burrito in the casserole dish. “Go ahead. You can have it.” He almost laughed when she eagerly transferred it to her plate. Where the heck did a woman her size put all the food she ate? “I mean, you found a job that you love, that pays well, and where you get a chance to use the skills you learned in school. Plus, you’re helping people. What else does she want? It’s not like you’re strapping people down to a table and waterboarding them or anything. What’s her problem?”