by Becky McGraw
He opened the door and walked out leaving it open. Taylor quickly ran behind him, and shut the door behind her, but heard a whimper and remembered Buddy. She opened it back up and he shot past her to chase after Lola and Slade who were already halfway across the yard. Thank goodness she had on her sneakers, she thought, as she hustled down the steps. With his extremely long legs and ground-eating stride, Taylor had to run to catch up to him too.
It was a long walk to the barracks on the other side of the compound, and Taylor was out of breath by the time she stopped beside Slade at the door while he punched in a security code. Seeing that they had tight security at the compound made her feel a lot more confident that there would be no surprise raids by the feds while they were sleeping. If she was to be arrested and sent to federal prison she would at least see them coming. At the thought, the acid in her stomach turned into a brick and sank down to cramp lower.
Slade opened the door and it was dark inside the building. Reaching inside, he flipped on the lights then pushed the door open and stood aside so she and the dogs could enter. “The sleeping quarters are over there through that door.” He pointed to a six-panel wood door on the other side of the office chairs and huge conference room table which must serve as both the dining room and a meeting area. “Let’s see who all is here tonight.”
The tiredness in his voice was echoed in her body as he walked to door and flung it open to walk inside. Taylor followed behind him, and when she walked through the door to stand beside Slade her eyes landed on three men who sat in hard wooden chairs in front of a small television in their underwear playing a video game.
With muttered curses, they scrambled. One jerked a blanket off a cot and wrapped it around him, while another grabbed a towel. The third ran for his cot to jerk his jeans up to hold them in front of him.
“Think you could knock buddy? Or at least tell us you have a woman with you?” the tallest, leanly muscled guy who picked the blanket to cover himself asked angrily.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Caleb asked. She recognized him because he was one of the Deep Six guys who’d worked on the security detail at the hotel.
Taylor gathered up her courage and blew out a breath. “I work for Deep Six now,” she announced walking further into the room drawing gasps and groans from all three men. The sofa over at the other building was looking better and better by the moment than bunking with these men who, from their expressions, did not want her in here.
Now, this is exactly how she’d always imagined the offices of Deep Six Security would look, Taylor thought, as she walked down the aisle, her eyes ticking over each of the three sets of bunk beds. She’d just about nailed things all the way down to the razor wire topping the fence that surrounded the compound.
The sleeping quarters reminded her of her dorm in college, only less private and filled with a lot more testosterone. She had survived the quad room at OKU for four years, she could survive this.
“Which bunk is open?” she stopped to ask.
“None of them,” Caleb replied shortly, and her eyes flew to his, but he was glaring over her shoulder at Slade who stood behind her by the door. The man’s tone, his posture and his attitude told her he didn’t want her here, but that was too damned bad.
“Levi, Mac and Dex are coming out here later so they’re not late for the meeting in the morning. Slade should know that since he told Dex to get all of us out here. I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be sleeping in here with us anyway.”
“Well, I for one don’t mind if she sleeps in here,” the man wrapped in the blanket announced with a grin as he walked over to her to stick out his hand. “I’m Hawk, the company pilot. And who are you ma’am?”
Taylor forced a tight smile and took his hand. When he shook it firmly, her smile and attitude softened. “Taylor Kincaid,” she replied then lifted a brow. “Do all the guys at this company only have one name?”
“Legends only need one name, sweetheart,” he replied arrogantly, but his eyes sparked with humor and male interest. “Superman, Flash, Zorro.”
“Bullwinkle? Bozo?” Taylor added with a laugh, even though she could almost believe his assertion. Every one of the men who worked for Deep Six were not only muscled out to the max, they were all damned good looking in a rough and capable kind of way.
But she knew they weren’t hired for their looks.
Dave Logan wouldn’t give a crap if they were good looking. He’d want capable men with exceptional skills. Deep Six Security wouldn’t be as well funded as they appeared to be, or as well thought of in the security sector, otherwise. Taylor realized then Hawk hadn’t let her hand go, so she pulled it back to wipe it on her thigh.
He winked at her and turned to drop his arm over her shoulders. She heard Slade growl, but Hawk didn’t seem to care as he led her down the aisle to his bunk. “I tell you what...since I’m so nice, I’ll let you share my bunk tonight.” Hawk cut his eyes at Caleb, who glared at them from over by the television. “I’ll even loan you my ear plugs so you don’t have to hear grumpy over there snore.”
“Cut the crap, Hawkins. I’m tired and I don’t have time for it.” Slade’s words sliced through the thick honey in Hawk’s words like a knife.
And she did not want to cause trouble here tonight. It was not the way she wanted to start her new job. “As tempting as that offer sounds, Hawk,” Taylor said with a laugh as she slid out from under his arm. “I don’t think that’s a good way to start my new job here. I think I will just go back over to the office and sleep on the sofa.”
“I’m sure Slade has a few other ideas as to where you can bed down, since he brought you over here knowing all the bunks were full,” the other guy said as he stepped into his jeans and dragged them up his legs.
“Fletch don’t start,” Hawk said, the humor in his tone gone.
The man stood back up and pinned Hawk with his eyes while he buttoned and zipped his jeans. “Slade sure is hiring a lot of females, and you know as well as I do, the likely reason he’s doing it, Hawkins.” His nasty, insinuating laugh sliced right through Taylor. “Dexter said another one will be here at the end of the week too, so he’s probably setting himself up for a twofer.”
“Yes, Cee Cee Logan will be here at the end of the week,” Slade confirmed with a snarl. “So I’d suggest your change your attitude, Fletcher, and get with the program, show a little respect, or I’ll hand your ass to you, along with your pink slip.”
Although Taylor would be glad to have another woman to interact with here, she did not like how this man was talking. Like they were token hires, because they were female, and Slade was some kind of degenerate. A twofer? This man was not only being nasty to her, he was confusing as well.
“Who is Cee Cee?” she asked, folding her arms over her breasts, where Hawk’s eyes appeared to be glued.
“Logan’s younger sister,” Hawk informed, dragging his eyes up to hers. “She’s been trying to get a job with Deep Six forever, and we really need her now. I’m glad Slade hired her.”
“The reason Logan didn’t want to hire women is because of this exact situation,” Fletch said with a short bark of laughter. “We don’t need liabilities that will distract us from our job, disrupt our operation, so Slade can get a booty call.”
That did it. Taylor had enough. This man wanted a pissing contest with her? Well, he’d just bought himself one, she thought, as her arms floated to her sides and she walked over to Fletch to stare up into his eyes, but Slade suddenly pushed her aside to stand toe to toe with the man. Anger radiated off of him in waves, and was mimicked in the low, throaty growl Lola emitted right behind him.
“I hired her because she’s qualified and we need her help. Probably more qualified than you. I hired Cecelia for the same reason, and if I ever hear you say something like that again, I promise I’ll be finding a female replacement for you on this team. Do you understand?”
Fletch’s face turned bright red and his eyes flamed as Slade stepped
back. Hawk groaned, and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard Caleb cough.
“Yeah, I understand,” Fletch said angrily, as he snatched his shirt up from the floor and pulled it over his head. “I’m going to sleep in my fucking truck, so she can take my bed.”
“No, I’ll make other arrangements,” Slade said sharply, grabbing her arm. “Get some sleep, Fletcher, because we have a goat fuck on our hands and I need you sharp for tomorrow. Change that attitude by morning though, or you can drive that truck right out of here because I don’t need your crap.” With that, Slade turned and shoved her toward the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Slade couldn’t sleep. It was no wonder either, because even as thickly padded and carpeted as the floor was in his bedroom, there was still concrete beneath the padding. The carpet was the rough Berber variety, easily cleaned when mud was tracked over it which happened often, but rough as sandpaper to his skin. Efficient, but certainly not suited for sleeping.
And Buddy still made low mournful sounds from the kennel in the other room, which was what had driven him to the bedroom in the first place. Well, that and the fact his body was too long, his shoulders too wide to get comfortable on the small sofa out there.
Taylor Kincaid was tiny enough to sleep on that sofa, but he just couldn’t make himself make her sleep there. His mother had drilled chivalry into his skull since he was a kid, until it was firmly implanted in his psyche, so Taylor was sleeping peacefully a few feet away in his fucking king-sized, memory-foam-padded bed, making soft purring sounds that set his teeth on edge. Rolling over, Slade punched the hard sofa pillow to tenderize it and sighed loudly as he dragged the thin cotton blanket up to his shoulders.
The main reason he couldn’t sleep though was his freaking brain wouldn’t shut off trying to work out the puzzle that was this kidnapping. That bomb in the prince’s car said other factors were in play in the situation. Factors that just didn’t make sense. Was the assassination attempt connected to the kidnapping somehow?
The timing was awfully suspect.
With Deep Six gone and the two Arab guards dead, the whole family was vulnerable now to more attempts on their lives unless Prince Khalil hired more security. His mind was probably fucked and that was the last thing he was thinking about though, and maybe that was the goal.
Whatever the reason, Slade needed to try to talk to the prince and convince him the family needed to move out of that hotel. The prince was wealthy, he could afford to rent a secure location somewhere else. That’s what needed to happen because they were sitting ducks where they were and he had no idea who was behind all this.
What were the odds the man would listen to him however? Slade had no evidence, the prince blamed Deep Six for allowing the kidnapping, and he was harboring Taylor who was probably wanted for the bombing here. The odds were less than zero that Prince Khalil would listen to anything he had to say, but he was going to try.
He needed Grayson to locate the prince’s accounts and keep an eye on them. They needed to know when that ransom money transferred and to whom. That would lead them to the kidnappers and probably the kid. Hopefully, before he was killed, if that was the plan.
The bed covers rustled and a soft moan drew Slade’s eyes to the bed. “You can sleep up here you know,” Taylor offered in a sexy, sleep-slurred voice, and Slade bit back a groan as temptation clawed at his insides.
God, that’s all he needed. To be in that bed with her, feeling her nails raking down his back, hearing her soft moans as he drove into her tight little body. That would solve all of his present problems from the adrenaline crash he was suffering. But it would create so many more.
Slade didn’t know much about Taylor Kincaid, but he suspected she was not a fuck buddy type of woman—the only kind he wanted.
Her offer just now was for a slice of the bed, not a slice of her. In the frame of mind he was at the moment, if he crawled up in that bed with her, he knew he’d try to change her mind. There was not a line of her perfectly curved body he hadn’t inventoried with his eyes when she changed into those second-skin yoga pants at her house.
The adrenaline crash would pass, but crossing the line with a woman not on the same page as he would not. In the morning, he’d take care of things in the shower and the fire scorching his insides would be gone. Besides, he was not about to give credence to Fletcher’s assertion that he’d hired her for a booty call, even if she was that kind of woman.
Nope, he was staying right here on the floor where he belonged, even if he didn’t get a minute’s sleep tonight. He craned his neck to see the green digital display on his alarm clock on the nightstand and saw the night was already half gone.
You’ve slept in much worse places, man. Close your eyes and clear your head.
Forcing his eyes shut, Slade focused on relaxing his tense muscles from his toes up to his head. When he got to his face, he also mentally clicked off the switch in his brain by focusing intently on the first time he met Lola when she wasn’t much more than a puppy. The feel of her soft, but coarse fur as his palm glided over it, the warmth of her wet tongue as it flicked out to lick his chin. His breath left him on a sigh, as he finally found relaxation.
The hum of the ceiling fan lulled Slade deeper into his subconscious. Flashes of the exciting days of working with the trainer and Lola at the center in Yuma floated through his mind. It only took five weeks for them to become a combat explosives detection team, but took two more years in Iraq for them to become best friends and known as the best team in the corps.
Their next deployment was to Afghanistan, and things were okay at first. But then his field commander was promoted, and Slade was put on point for his squad in the field. Put in charge of making decisions for them, deciding on entry strategy and positions, and clearing buildings for safe entry.
That changed everything.
It wasn’t just a matter of being one of the guys then, and focusing on what he and Lola did best. Keeping them all safe, by using what seemed to be psychic intuition to identify where tangos would set booby traps and IEDs. No, he’d become so good at that the military wanted more from him. That distraction proved to be fatal for his squad, and almost for him and Lola too.
The tension in his body ratcheted up and his teeth clenched as he fought to keep those images from his dreams, tried to rewind to the training exercises, playing with Lola in that sunny field in Yuma, but there was no going back. He’d crossed that line in his thoughts and images of the mud village in Badakhshan Province gripped him.
Because the intel was supposedly fresh and they were in the area, his squad was sent in at night to find insurgents who were named as responsible for the massacre of a group of aid workers. As it turned out, the intel wasn’t fresh as usual. The village appeared to be a ghost town when they arrived, but they had to clear every building to know that for sure.
He and Lola worked through every house and found only a few devices. The entry team gave the explosives wide berth as they cleared the buildings then marked them for detonation crews who would come behind them. Because it would take the longest, they saved the largest mud house in the village for last.
It was nearly sunrise when they finally got to it, and Lola was just as exhausted as the men in the squad, as him. How was she to know there was a second device set up very close to the first one? The scent would’ve been the same, her alerts would have been the same so he wouldn’t have known either. But that didn’t make what happened any easier to swallow. It had been his responsibility to keep those men safe and he’d failed them.
Slade gave his men the location of the first device, when he and Lola exited. The squad entered to clear the building and managed to avoid the first device. He set up men to guard the entry team outside, and took up position at the house next door. Close enough to see the stunned expressions on the faces of those men he’d set up directly outside that building to guard the men inside when the second device detonated. Close enough to watch in slow motion as thei
r bodies flew through the air until large chunks of debris fractured his skull, broke bones in his face and slammed him to the ground.
He wouldn’t find out until he woke up at the hospital in Germany that the only survivors were him, Lola and the three lucky men he ordered to guard the entrance of the village. Lola was at the vet hospital getting treatment for her injuries, and it was uncertain whether she would have to be euthanized.
Slade wished right then they’d euthanize him. But he was left alive to suffer knowing that he’d killed those men as surely as if he’d set that device himself. To suffer through multiple surgeries to reconstruct his face, shore up his skull and then months of treatments to learn how to function again, to even take a piss on his own. Why that injury couldn’t take those memories from him like it had his mother’s face for a while, he didn’t know.
Because you deserve to remember, to live with the hell of seeing those faces imprinted in your mind forever.
“Slade, wake up!” an anxious female voice shouted, dragging him from his agony.
As consciousness finally came, the rawness in his throat told him he must’ve been screaming. A bead of sweat streaked down his neck, and he realized he was drenched. His body shook and his teeth chattered as he heard frantic scratching at his bedroom door that said Lola must’ve heard him too. He’d locked her out of the bedroom because he knew she’d end up in bed with Taylor Kincaid, where she normally slept with him, if he let her inside.
“Lo-lo-la” he croaked weakly, and tried to get up, but Taylor pushed his shoulder back to the carpet and rose to walk to the door.
“Get in the bed, Slade,” she commanded, as she opened the door and Lola dashed inside to run over and bathe his face and neck with kisses. A tremor shook his hand as he raised it to scratch between her ears when she rubbed her face against his shoulder. Inch by inch, his body relaxed, and his breathing slowed.
