by April Hunt
“Careful there, King, or you may break a nail,” Roman quipped dryly.
“I’d like to break something.” His old service buddy glanced his way before releasing the guy in his grip. “Today’s your lucky day. Get gone. And if I see you back here again, you’ll be betting on your life.”
“No problem, man. I’m outta here.”
“Porter? Make sure he gets off the property.”
“Not a problem, boss.” Garrett followed the wiry guy around the side of the house.
Anyone who didn’t know Ethan King would’ve shit a brick when the six-foot-four and nearly 220-pound former Special Forces soldier drilled him with a hard look. Not Roman. He’d witnessed him trying to fold his bulky frame in a damn Humvee and had been the prime suspect in a prank that had King shitting his brains out for forty-eight hours straight. He knew the bastard as if he were one of his brothers…and he knew the man loved danger.
He loved the thrill.
He loved not just beating the odds, but crushing them into a fine powder.
And he also happened to be one of the best trackers he knew…short of the four-legged furry kind.
“The answer’s no.” With a growl, King turned on his heel and headed toward his cabin.
Roman followed. By the time he stepped into the small kitchen, King had already poured himself a generous helping of tequila. “I didn’t even ask you anything.”
“Yet.” He pointed an accusing finger at him. “But I know all your dumb faces, and that one right there tells me I not only need to say no, but no-to-the-fucking-hell-no. So this is me officially telling you to bug off.”
Roman shook his head. “Can’t do it. There’s too much on the line.”
King knocked back his drink and immediately filled the glass with another. He put up a good front, but deep down under King’s rough exterior beat the heart of duty-driven softy. Roman just needed to chisel his way through granite to get there.
“You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t necessary,” Roman added.
King folded his huge arms across his chest and leaned against the counter. “Let me determine if it’s necessary.”
Step one—complete.
“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I punch it off, brother,” King warned. “I agreed to hear you out. That doesn’t mean I’m packing my bags.”
Roman told him about the lab theft, the virus, and about the possible outbreak in Beaver Ridge. With each new bunch of facts, his buddy’s frown deepened more, and so did Roman’s. Hearing it out loud made this assignment sound more and more like a one-way trip.
“Let me get this straight,” King interjected. “You want me go to Bumblefuck, Alaska, where the town’s most likely infected with some kind of Walking Dead virus and surrounded by armed assholes who spend their spare time breaking into maximum-security labs?”
“About sums it up. Pretty sweet deal, right?”
“There’s something you’re leaving out.”
“I literally told you everything.”
King narrowed his eyes, studying him as if trying to find hidden answers somewhere on Roman’s face. He fought to keep his face a blank slate, but leave it to his buddy to find that microscopic crack.
Ethan grinned, chuckling. “This doctor you mentioned…you have a hard-on for her. Well, I’ll be damned. I thought I’d never live to see the day.”
“Keep it up and you won’t.”
King lifted his hands in mock surrender. “If I agree to this crazy-ass assignment—and I’m not saying I am—but when would we be wheels up?”
And step two—complete. “Tomorrow morning. Seven sharp. Manassas Regional.”
“You’re asking for a lot, man.”
“I know.”
King grunted. “I’ll think about it…but don’t do anything stupid like go counting on me. I’m not exactly the self-sacrificing type.”
Roman battled a threatening smirk and instead nodded in feigned agreement. King would be there—dragging, probably hungover, and a whole lot of grumpy, but he’d show ready to kick some ass.
* * *
Despite her day wrangling the supplies they’d need to handle a possible FC-5 exposure, Isa still didn’t believe that in twenty-four hours she’d be on a plane to Alaska. The work they did at the Legion was meant to avoid these kind of scenarios, not bring them into fruition, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible.
If she’d only fought against the intruders a little harder. If she’d only managed to hit the alarm. If she’d been inside the lab at the time they’d breached, she could’ve tossed all the damn FC-5 samples into the freaking incinerator.
They couldn’t use FC-5 as a bioweapon without the virus itself.
But they did have it, and an entire town may have paid the price for Isa’s mistake. If jumping into field medicine was what was needed of her, she’d do it, and she’d do it without complaint. Her discomfort meant nothing compared to what the people in Beaver Ridge faced.
A burst of laughter pulled Isa’s attention from the laptop, where she was checking for an update from Tony. Holed up in what the Steele Ops gang considered their family room, the team was unwinding after a long day. Beer and specialty cocktails brewed from Iron Bars’ own boutique alcohol had been flowing freely for the last two hours.
To anyone looking in, they appeared like family and friends relaxing and enjoying each other’s company, but it hadn’t been that way a few short hours ago. They’d inventoried weapons, strategized exit routes, and fine-tuned security measures to be taken once they reached Alaska. A lot of it had gone over her head, but what she had grasped was that beneath the intense planning—and now rampant joking—was a hell of a lot of worry.
Isa included.
With everyone temporarily teasing Ryder about his lack of pick-up skills, Isabel slinked away to the back room she’d call home for the night and made the phone call she’d delayed long enough.
“Isabel,” her grandfather answered. “I wasn’t expecting a phone call from you tonight.”
“I wanted to check in because I’m going out of town tomorrow, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to call next.”
“Is everything okay?”
Yes. No. Isa longed to spill everything, but she couldn’t bring herself to make him worry more than he already did. “I have to go into the field. There’s a lot of sick people in Alaska that need help.”
“Then they’re in good hands.”
Isa sat on the bed and sighed. If only she believed that. “This has the potential to be really, really bad, Abuelito. If it’s not handled the right way…”
She didn’t need to say more.
After she lost Olly, her grandfather had let her work through her grief at her own pace. He’d listened to her angry rants and held her as she’d cried. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her…except let her question her own abilities. That’s where Carlos Santiago drew the line, and it was one he’d never let either one of them cross.
“Isabel Marisol Santiago, you’re exactly what those people in Alaska need, just like you were what that little boy in the hospital needed.”
Tears welled in her eyes because of course he knew what went through her head. “What that little boy needed was someone to save his mother. Instead, he got me.”
“Sweetheart, what happened is a sad reality of the world we live in today. You’re a doctor, Isabel, not a miracle worker. You can’t do what’s out of the realm of possibility.” Her grandfather’s voice softened. “As much as it pains me to say this, you weren’t meant to save that young mother.”
“What if I’m not meant to save the people in Beaver Ridge, Alaska, either?” Isa’s voice trembled. She took a breath and held it until her chest ached. “What if I’m not enough? Again?”
“If there is a way, sweetheart, you will find it. I have complete faith in you…more than you have in yourself.”
Isa couldn’t help but smile sadly, because it was true. “I love you, do you know
that?”
“I do…and I love you, cariño.”
Hearing a noise in the hall, Isa glanced up. Roman stood in the open doorway, shoulder pushed against the jamb as he watched her. She didn’t know how long he’d stood there or how much he’d heard.
“Grandpa, I have to go. One of my colleagues is here, and we have a few more things to go over before tomorrow. I’ll try to check in when I can.”
“Be safe, sweetheart.”
“Always am.” Isa said goodbye and took a moment before meeting Roman’s gaze. She couldn’t read his facial expression, and for a moment she thought he was gearing up for another argument about why she needed to stay in DC. “Is everything okay?”
“Guess I should be asking you that.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Isa lied and stood, suddenly anxious to repack her bag and make sure she had everything she needed. “Carmichael promised that the supplies I asked for will be at the airport first thing in the morning, and Tony emailed that he’s set up a makeshift hospital in Beaver Ridge. I should be able to hit the ground running the second we get to Alaska.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Technically, you didn’t ask a question.” Isa dumped her clothes on the bed and busied herself with refolding and packing.
“Fine. You want a question?” He caught her elbow and eased her away from her duffel. “Do you really think you’re not capable of getting in front of this?”
“Eavesdropping on private conversations doesn’t become you.”
“Neither does that nervous doubt I heard in your voice a few minutes ago. What’s changed since yesterday? Or the day before that? What happened to the woman who nearly castrated me while in quarantine? She sure as hell wasn’t full of doubts.”
“That women wasn’t faced with having to pick up her stethoscope for the first time in years,” Isa snapped. “Don’t worry about it, Roman. I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike. And in case it’s not, that’s why you’ll be keeping your distance. Distance in Alaska…and distance here.”
Something flashed in Roman’s dark eyes, there and gone before she could identify it, or take back her words. “Distance.”
Staying away from Roman Steele was actually the last thing she wanted to do, but when she let herself get close to him, everything else seemed to melt away. “With Beaver Ridge hanging over our heads on top of the missing FC-5, I can’t afford to get wrapped up in this thing with you, no matter how exciting and freeing it feels. I can’t let myself get distracted.”
“Knock-knock. There you guys are.” Jaz and Liam stood by the open door. “We need the two of you to break a tie. And FYI, if you choose drunk charades, you’ll be dead to me.”
Liam’s gaze bounced from Isa to Roman. “We can come back…”
“Like hell! This needs to be settled right now.”
Isa forced a smile and casually stepped away from Roman. “Actually, there’s no time like the present…and I’m sorry, Jaz, but drunk charades sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Isabel,” Roman growled.
Isa tucked her arm through Jaz’s and let the other woman direct their way through the labyrinth that was Steele Ops. Avoiding Roman—practically running away—wasn’t one of her finer moments, but it was one that needed to happen, because if she was all that stood in the way of a possible outbreak unlike anything the world had yet seen, then she needed to have her head on straight.
Not on Roman Steele.
Chapter
Ten
Leaning against his truck’s front bumper, Roman cast a glance at his watch. The Steele Ops jet had been packed and fueled, nearly ready to depart from Manassas Regional Airport except for one small hiccup.
Still no King.
Roman wasn’t worried yet. He’d show, if for no other reason than to be able to use the humanitarian mission as a way to impress his next big-hearted and probably big-breasted conquest. As if the guy needed additional help getting laid.
Ryder popped his head out of the plane. “Pilot’s ready to go.”
“Five more minutes.”
“Whoever you’re waiting for obviously isn’t showing. We’ll be fine—unless we make Isa wait too much longer. She’s already walking up and down the aisle like a caged tiger. I never saw anyone so eager to walk toward a death virus.”
Roman pushed off the truck, nearly ready to give in, when a bright yellow VW convertible screeched to a stop in front of the hangar.
A hair-tangled redhead sat behind the wheel, King on the passenger side. He leaned across the gearshift and dragged the woman into a heavy, tongue-filled kiss before grabbing an old Army rucksack from the back seat and hopping out from the cramped space.
“Still cutting things close, I see.” Roman’s lips twitched as he grasped King’s forearm in a friendly grip. “And still making sure you get a proper send-off.”
“There’s no other way to do it, brother. Especially when you’re taking me somewhere where I might die from a hemorrhage in my ass.”
Hearing King’s arrival, Ryder and the others approached. He needed to make this next part quick. “Look, about our time in Burundi…no one knows. Even my family. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
King’s smile evaporated. “Fuck, man. Seriously?”
Roman’s hackles rose. “You telling me you give everyone you come across the pros and cons of working on a CIA black site for nearly two years?”
“No, but I also don’t have a close-knit family like yours.” King’s gaze flickered down to his left leg. “Or that to explain. It’s been five years. You seriously haven’t told them a damn thing?”
He hadn’t. At first because his time on the Burundi black site was classified, and then because he wasn’t eager to put his naïveté on full display. Admitting he’d trusted the wrong person and paid for it with his leg wasn’t a conversation he really wanted to have with people who expected him to have their back. Despite not wanting to, his family still treated him differently since his amputation.
Roman hardened his gaze to make sure King knew he was serious. “No Burundi. No Kat. No explosion. Tell me you can handle that, or walk away now.”
“Yeah. Okay.” King hoisted his rucksack higher on his shoulder. “But you’re climbing a slippery slope, brother. You know me. I’m not exactly an open book, but keeping that kind of shit on the inside—especially when you have people around you that give a rat’s ass—is like a damn cancer. It eats you from the inside out.”
“Not a damn word.”
“Got it.”
Ryder and Jaz joined them, Isa on their heels. Her hair pulled away from her face in a ponytail and dressed in khaki cargo pants and a plain white T-shirt, she looked the epitome of functional and sexy as hell.
True to what she claimed the previous night at Steele Ops HQ, she’d avoided him all morning. At first, it pissed him off. While everyone had played games in the commons, he’d knocked around the heavy bag for a while, but when he was done, when it was just him and his bruised knuckles, he understood—if just a little bit—what she’d meant about being distracted.
When he’d been buried balls-deep inside of her, he hadn’t been able to see anything but her. The entire world had disappeared. There’d been no threat. No virus. No nagging past hounding his every step. There’d just been the two of them, and it had felt fucking incredible.
And it could also be fucking dangerous, considering where they were going and what they had to do. But just because he reluctantly understood didn’t mean he hadn’t contemplated making the distance between them disappear about a dozen times since then.
Ryder stuck his hand out to King. “You must be the mysterious friend we’ve heard nothing about. Ryder Steele.”
“One of the infamous brothers. I can’t say I didn’t hear anything about you guys.” King turned to Jaz and Isa, his voice dropping to a low purr. “But you two beauties I definitely would’ve remembered. Ethan King at your service.”
“And at
the service of the redhead who practically sucked off your face a few minutes ago.” Jaz took his hand, not the least bit fazed by his flirtation.
He smirked. “Saw that, did you? Sweet girl. Kindergarten teacher. But don’t worry, I’m still very much a free agent.”
Jaz snorted and turned back toward the plane. “Oh, I wasn’t worried.”
Ryder laughed and clapped King on the back. “Word to the wise: Don’t piss off a world-class sniper.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” King chuckled nervously and extended a hand toward Isa. “Are you a sniper, too?”
“Doctor. Isabel Santiago.”
King held her hand a little too long for Roman’s liking. “So you’re the reason we’re walking into a scene of Outbreak.” He slid a coy look at Roman. “I get it now, my friend. Totally get it.”
Isa glanced to Roman and back. “I’m glad one of us does, because I’m obviously out of the loop.”
“Nope, you’re right smack in the middle, sweetheart.”
Roman wanted to punch the grin off his friend’s face. “We’re wasting time standing here gabbing. We have a ten-hour flight to Anchorage and then at least another hour by puddle-jumper until we get to Beaver Ridge.”
On the plane, Jaz commandeered one of the two couches, her feet kicked up as she flipped through a magazine, and Isa took a seat at the small conference table, her laptop and papers spread out around her.
“I’ll tell the pilot we’re ready to take off,” Ryder announced before heading toward the front of the plane.
Roman’s gaze drifted toward Isabel, but not before catching King’s shit-eating smirk. He flipped him off and took the seat next to her. Almost immediately, she tensed, a far cry from the physical reaction she’d had to him back at his place.
“You don’t think you’ve looked at all this information enough?” Roman risked asking. “I’d think you’d have it all memorized by now.”
