by J. B. Havens
“I should, huh? Well, I’m not going to. If and when I feel it’s appropriate to tell you more, I will. That time is not now.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned as far sideways as he could, his long hair falling over his face and obscuring his features.
“Soon Rook, I won’t give you a choice.” I thought back to the soundproof interrogation room. Rook was the only member of Steel who had not been through that particular funhouse. I needed to meet with Pierce and discuss our options. Rook was different. I was almost positive he would see right through any ruse we could concoct.
As I made the turn onto the road to the compound, bumping and sliding on the slushy mess covering the pavement, the wheel started shaking under my hands. I slowed down even more than usual since vibrations were coming up through the pedals. The wheel shimmied and the Jeep pulled sharply to the right. “What the fuck?”
“What the hell, Mic?” Rook spat at the same time, his voice thick with anger.
“Feels like a flat.” I pulled to the side, just up the road from the guard shack. The guards at the gate were eyeing us from their post.
“How did you get a flat? It was fine before,” Jordon said, earning another eye roll from me.
“No clue, but I’m going to find out.” Stepping out into the snow, I crouched down at the front driver’s side tire. It was only about half-inflated. Slipping off my gloves, I felt along the ridges of rubber. It only took seconds to find the nail. The shiny flat head was nearly even with the tire, not too strange considering I’d been driving on it.
“These are supposed to be puncture resistant tires…” I muttered, opening the driver’s door. “Picked up a nail. It’s good enough to get back to the hangar where I can change it.” Slowly navigating the road, I did my best to miss as many potholes as possible. Any further damage would ruin my fucking day.
The guards raised the barrier and waved as we approached. A red-headed guard I remembered from when I picked up Riley was watching intently as we passed—taking his duty pretty seriously by the looks of it. Good news for us. The guards had all been extra cautious and vigilant since Phillips’s death. I attributed his scrutiny to that.
Rook opened the door and was striding through the snow to his cabin almost before I got the Jeep fully stopped. “Send Jones the interview now; we’ll get started while you deal with your Jeep or whatever.”
“There is something up with him,” Jordon remarked.
“Very observant of you, Captain Obvious.” I smirked at him over the seat. “Go open the hangar bay, will you?” I smiled pretty while I asked him, before quickly emailing the recording to Jones. “Very funny, smartass. Oh—excuse me, I mean Staff Sergeant Smartass.” His green eyes were shining with mirth.
“Consider yourself smoked. Get out. I want fifty push-ups, Corporal.” I stepped out, having more fun with this than I’d had in days.
I stood next to the Jeep, ankle deep in snow, waiting for him to drop at my feet.
“You’re serious?”
“Perfectly. Now, or I’ll make it a hundred. On your face.” I pointed at my feet. A grin tried to stretch my face, but I refused it. There was no smiling when channeling your inner drill sergeant.
“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled and dropped to the ground. His hands disappeared into the snow, as he began pushing and counting. I heard the door to the hangar open, but I ignored it.
Pierce yelled from the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Boy-o here has jokes. But the joke’s on him,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Oh hey, will you open the bay door for me while I deal with Jordon?”
“Sure, but don’t let him get frostbite. You two still need to report to Jackson. Rook is waiting.” Pierce slammed the door closed, leaving Jordon and me out in the snow. Jordon hit fifty in no time, as I expected he would. Jumping to his feet, he stood at attention in front of me, sweating and shivering.
“Having fun, Corporal? Do you like playing in the snow?” I asked, pushing him a little harder.
“I love playing in the snow, Staff Sergeant,” he shouted.
“Glad to hear it.” I looked him over, from the beard he was growing, to the rigidness of his stance. I had yet to find anything about Jordon that I didn’t like… and that was the problem. “What is it about you?”
His face twisted into confusion; I realized too late I had spoken out loud. “You tell me, Bea. I have the same question.”
“This is a mistake,” I mumbled under my breath before taking him by the hand and tugging him behind me. I dragged him past the hangar and to the edge of the woods. As soon as I felt we were hidden enough, I spun around, facing him abruptly.
“What’s a mistake, Bea?” he whispered.
“This…” I stood on my toes and dragged his lips down to mine. He groaned and pulled me tightly against him, crushing my breasts against his chest and sweeping his tongue into my mouth. Releasing me for a split second, he squatted and grabbed me under my ass, lifting me high against him. I responded by wrapping my legs around his waist and burying my hands in his hair. His hat fell into the snow behind us, marking our trail as he walked forward until my back bumped against a tree.
“If it wasn’t so fucking cold, I’d have you right here and now.” He gasped against my mouth, tugging my bottom lip with his teeth.
“If it wasn’t so fucking cold, I’d let you,” I murmured against his lips. His beard scratched my cheeks as he kissed and sucked his way down my neck. The bark of the tree was hard against my back, my coat doing little to cushion me. I shivered as Chris lavished attention on my neck and the sensitive skin near my ear.
“You’re so soft. How are you so soft?” He leaned his hips into mine, grinding hard and keeping me pressed to the tree so he could free his hands. He jerked the zipper of my coat down; the cold air felt good against my hot skin. His big palms found my body under my coat, sliding down my ribs and sides. He bumped over bruises, the pain adding a pleasant spice to the electric touch of his hands.
I leaned my head back against the tree and gave in to the strength of his hands against me, the rapid beat of my heart, and the heat and power of his touch. An unfamiliar feeling clogged my veins and stole my breath.
In the background, I heard a throat clear loudly, shattering the quiet of the forest and erasing the moment that Chris and I were having.
“Put her down, Corporal.”
I opened my eyes and met Jackson’s. He was standing with his hands behind him, rocking forward and backward on his heels, patiently waiting for our reaction.
“Oh fuck…,” Jordon whispered against my neck. “He’s right behind us, isn’t he?”
“Yes. I am. Put her down and button anything that needs it,” Jackson ordered.
Jordon slowly slid me down his body, stretching the moment out and hoping to delay the inevitable ass-chewing we were both about to receive. He clasped my hand and turned around, facing the onslaught of Jackson’s ire. I left my coat hanging open, not willing to let go of Jordon’s hand to zip it.
“We were going to have a conversation about this after you reported back to me. It’s apparent to everyone there is something going on with you two. Now that I’ve witnessed it, I have to do something about it. What should that be?” Jackson paced in front of us, wearing the snow away to the soft dirt beneath.
“Nothing. Just leave it alone,” I said.
“You don’t really believe that’s possible, do you?” He was calm and collected; although I had expected screaming and red-faced anger.
“It might be. It could be. We’re not regular Army, Master Sergeant,” Jordon added.
“True enough, Jordon. Is this a serious thing for you two or just scratching an itch? I won’t allow hormones to destroy my team.” Jackson stopped pacing and leveled his eyes to us.
“It’s serious.” The words were out of my mouth before I had even processed that I was going to say them. I hadn’t meant to. Dammit. Jordon squeezed my hand tight and I could feel his heart beating fas
ter against my palm.
“Now that’s interesting. I had expected Jordon to say that, Mic. When did this start?”
“Colombia,” Jordon explained. “Well… before that, but… it changed in the jungle down there. I… don’t know what to say. If you’re going to kick her out, I’m leaving too.” I knew that he hoped that I felt the same, that I would follow him out of Steel. Would I? I thought to myself. So much was happening so fast that I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Jackson crossed his arms over his massive chest. “No one is getting kicked out. I have to decide how to handle this. You two being involved physically and emotionally is a huge complication and risk. I have to put the interests of the team first. Period.”
Letting go of Jordon, I clasped my hands at the small of my back. “Of course you do, Master Sergeant. This has been coming for a while now. Resisting Jordon has turned into a full-time job for me. You have to understand that, considering your own situation with my aunt.”
“True enough, Mic. True enough. It’s cold out here. Go inside; you have a report to deliver. I’ll have my decision on this matter later.” Jackson turned on his heel and left us.
“Well, that could have been worse.” Jordon tugged me by the hand and followed Jackson’s tracks in the snow.
“Yes. It could have.” I paused, attempting to collect my thoughts. “You would leave Steel for me?” I was a top spinning in a sea of strong emotions.
“In a heartbeat. No question. Where you go, I go. That’s all there is to it.” Jordon made it sound so simple, but his words carried a heavy weight—a weight that I wasn’t sure I could carry. “You said it was serious between us. That’s the first you’ve admitted there’s more going on here than simple lust.”
“I know.” I was at a loss, unsure what to say now that I’d acknowledged it.
“Nothing more to say?” Jordon glanced at me, hoping to read something on my face, maybe.
“I’m… confused. Torn apart.” I stopped and tugged my hand back from him and wrapped my arms around myself. “I want you. So much. I just don’t know that I can have you at the price I may have to pay.” Steel was everything to me. It was all I had ever wanted, to be a part of something greater than myself. Steel was my mother and father, sibling and child. My religion and life. I couldn’t give it up for Chris.
He surprised me by wrapping his arms tight around me, holding me close to his chest, and resting his head on top of mine—offering me the comfort and support I hadn’t known I needed.
“It’s going to be okay. I believe that. And if I need to believe it for both of us… I can do that, too.”
I pushed away from him, needing some space. “Let’s just wait and see what Jackson says. I’m not going to make any decisions or think about it anymore until then. We need to give him our report and check in with Jones. Maybe he can find something in one of his databases about a man with a snake tattoo like the one Rozalina described.” I was pushing him away again, but I had to right now. A few moments ago, I had discovered that my feelings for Jordon were deeper and more intense than I ever bargained for. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want to have these incredible feelings for him; I didn’t want to be forced to choose between Jordon and Steel.
I knew more than most that life was not fair and often didn’t go the way you had planned. Steel was supposed to be my safety net, my home. I could feel the walls of security that I had built beginning to fracture and crumble around me. Everything was changing; I was changing and I didn’t fucking like it.
“Mic? Hello, Earth to Mic.” Jordon was calling to me.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought for a minute. You go ahead. I have to pull the Jeep into the hangar anyway.” Once again wrapping my arms tight around my body, I walked to my still idling Jeep. Jackson and Rook would be waiting for us in the war room. I heard Jordon sigh heavily behind me before striding ahead to the mess hall.
Chapter 7
Jordon strode ahead of Mic toward the mess hall and the war room. He wished he was following Mic, instead, because he really appreciated the view as he walked behind her. It took little effort to bring to mind the tight thermal pants she wore, which left little to his imagination. He’d once again had his hands on her, had her wrapped around him and clinging. His feelings for her surpassed a physical want’ she was now an emotional need. Not being part of Steel and not having Mic in his life were not options. He would do whatever was necessary to make Jackson believe that.
His heart had thrilled when Mic admitted it was serious between them, to Jackson of all people. This was a first for him. All of his adult life, he’d been focused on succeeding in his career, determined to make a difference and honor his brother’s memory. There had been no time for relationships longer than a weekend. He had never said those three little words to a woman—had never wanted to—until now.
Pushing thoughts of her aside, he went over the events at the hospital again in his mind. Rook had more explaining to do, and Jordon wanted to be around when Mic forced the answers from him. Rozalina had given them some good information; he hoped it was enough for them to track those bastards down.
Mic caught up with him just as he was pulling the door open. He held it and let her walk in first.
“You guys were out there a while,” Flynn smarted off. “Didn’t get frostbite, did you?”
Mic gave him the finger as she walked past him.
“Now is not a good time to fuck with us, asshole,” Jordon said to Flynn, who was losing badly at a game of pool with Pierce. Jones and Rook must already be in the war room.
Jackson was standing in the doorway with his massive arms crossed over his chest. “Flynn, Pierce, get your asses in here, too.” Leaving their cues on the table, they followed Jordon into the room and claimed their seats.
Jordon sat beside Mic and waited for everyone to get settled. Jones slid his laptop closer and with a few swift clicks, the monitor on the wall came to life. It showed Rozalina’s picture, as well as that of an unidentified man.
“Who are we looking at here?” Mic asked. Rook had been busy while he and Mic were off in the woods.
Pushing his hat further up on his head, Jones began to brief the team. “We used the tattoos Rozalina described to track down this man. Anton Ivanov. He’s approximately forty-five years old. He’s been in and out of prison most of his life for a variety of offenses; the worst being the ten-year stint he did for rape. The tattoos Rozalina described are classic Russian prison tattoos. Each tattoo has a specific meaning and contains a coded message. For years now, the police and prisons have been documenting these tattoos. The girl with the dress and fishing rod means he’s a rapist. The pirate is a little more interesting. Rook, would like you like to take it from here?”
Jackson gave Rook the go ahead.
“The letters on the blade are an acronym for Idu rezat aktiv, which means “I’m off to kill the activists.” But that’s just one part of this tattoo. The pirate signifies that this bastard is a brutally violent sadist. Activists in Russian prisons are inmates who willingly cooperate with the guards. The reason for his hatred toward them is self-explanatory.” During Rook’s narrative, Jones had pulled up a large picture of the tattoo in question. There were additional close-ups of Anton’s chest. He bore eight pointed stars on both collarbones, along with a giant double-headed eagle on his chest.
“The stars mean he is a high ranking person in the prison hierarchy and the eagle was adopted as the symbol of the Russian Federation in 1993, after the fall of Communism. The eagle replaced the hammer and sickle on the coat of arms. Worn here, like this, it’s a symbol of hatred and anger toward the former Soviet regime.” The thick black and blue ink was faded and old, but surprisingly well done for a prison tattoo.
“So, we’ve got a name. Where do we go from here? Obviously this rapist bastard needs a dirt nap. How do we go about doing that?” Jordon asked.
“You don’t.” Jackson’s voice halted everyone. Mic’s face flushed red in rag
e, but their commanding officer cut her off before she could say anything. “Cool your fucking shit, Staff Sergeant. This is Russia. The fucking former Soviet Union. You cannot just march in there, ass on fire, and kill this guy. It’s a political minefield. This is bigger than your need for revenge.”
“Then why bother gathering information? What’s the point then, Jackson?” Mic’s voice was surprisingly level and even, her anger held well in check.
“For now, we are not allowed to go into Russia under any circumstances. I have a boss to report to. I will pass on the information and we’ll see. This has to be handled with care or we’ll have a war on our hands. Russians don’t take kindly to Americans going after their own, no matter how much they need killing.” Jackson took a deep breath and sat heavily in his chair. “Mic and Jordon, stay where you are. The rest of you are dismissed.”
Jordon leaned back and stacked his hands behind his head. Anticipation coursed his pulse and sweat beaded on his palms. This was going to be it. His future with Mic was about to be decided.
****
I kept my eyes glued to Jackson and tried to ignore Jordon stretching beside me. Russia being put on hold pissed me off; but I wasn’t so much of an idiot that I didn’t understand why. Although I wanted vengeance and to stop these bastards, it wasn’t worth starting a war.
The door shut behind the rest of the team and I waited for Jackson’s judgment.
“So tell me… what should I do with you two?” He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, observing us carefully.
I glanced at Jordon, trying to gain some idea from his expression. He was no help. “It’s not really up to us to decide, is it?” I asked.
“Are you two going to end up in bed with each other? No matter what I say or think?” Jackson was calm and his words were even. He was being incredibly reasonable about this.
“Yes,” I answered before Jordon had a chance. It was only a matter of time. My attraction and pull to Jordon was gravitational in its power and gravity always wins.
