by Becky McGraw
“Will you please let me make an appointment for you with the doctor who helped Mark? I swear EMDR is amazing, and I think it could help you.”
Hearing about her two-timing ex-boyfriend again, and the therapy she found for him did not put Slade in a better frame of mind. It made him want to find that bastard and punch him in the face. Give him something to have flashbacks about.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I told you, I’m calling my doctor tomorrow,” he growled and his muscles tensed up again.
“It’s like bio—” she started, but he cut her off.
“They tried that biofeedback crap on me before I was put on meds and it’s a bunch of hokum. Please just mind your own damned business, and let me handle mine.”
“I’m just trying to help you,” she said softly, her voice sounding a little hurt. “You could at least talk to him, and if you don’t think it will help, walk out.”
Every muscle in his body was rigid again now, the tension in his gut building. “I don’t have time to deal with that shit right now. We have a missing kid and a bomber to find.” He lifted up to punch his pillow, then flopped back down on it. “Just get some damned sleep!”
“I have one more thing to say and I will. This is a new therapy, and it wasn’t approved five years ago. It’s not the same one that they tried on you.”
Slade didn’t respond. It would just invite more of her unwanted suggestions. He slammed his eyes shut and focused on relaxing again.
“Fair warning...” she murmured sleepily, and her arm tightened around his waist. “I’m not going to give up on convincing you.”
Slade finally relaxed when he heard her soft even breaths.
Fair warning to you—you’re wasting your breath. I don’t deserve help, because I should’ve died in that blast instead of my men.
***
Taylor was surrounded by delicious heat, wrapped in a comfortable cocoon when she dragged her eyes open. She quickly shut them against the bright light that pierced her brain and offended her senses. That brief glimpse of her surroundings confused her sleep-drugged mind, so she opened one eye a slit to take another look. It landed on a man’s broad, muscular back and her heart froze.
Mark? No, Mark was gone from her life, and good riddance.
Her body relaxed, but her mind ran through things, and when the clouds parted in her brain Taylor remembered exactly where she was. At the Deep Six Security compound out in the boonies. Accused of attempting to assassinate Prince Khalil yesterday.
Biting back a groan, both of her eyes popped opened again to fix on the broad back in front of her. And she was in bed with her new boss whose body was tense even in sleep, so tense her arm, which was draped over his waist, was pinned there.
She didn’t want to wake Slade, because he needed the sleep, but Taylor had needs that were pressing. Carefully, she tried to slide her arm from under his, but his heavy forearm pinned it to his side. When she tried again, he grumbled, his hand closed around hers and he tucked it to his muscled chest.
For a minute she laid there, counting the steady beats of his heart against her palm, considering her options. Her need to pee finally won out over worrying about him being asleep though, so she used her free hand to push against his back. The amount of sunlight pouring into the room from the single window in the far corner told her they needed to get up anyway. It was probably well past the time he’d scheduled for the meeting with his men.
“Slade, wake up,” she said, rocking her body against his and he moaned. Instead of releasing her though, his body tensed and he gripped her hand tighter almost cutting off the circulation to her fingers.
Taylor shoved him again and with a heavy sigh, his arm finally lifted and she pulled hers free, unglued her body from his and rolled to the other side of the bed. She got up and hurried toward the bathroom, but a flash of red and yellow on the floor beside the bed stopped her.
Curiosity won out over her need to pee, so Taylor bent to pick up a pair of man-sized yellow boxer briefs that sported a big smiley face in the center of the crotch and on the left thigh was printed, “Yes, I’m happy to see you!”
A giggle rumbled in her chest and trickled past her lips as her gaze shot to the bed and she met a pair of sleepy green eyes that were not amused.
Her eyebrow lifted, and he frowned, as a grin stretched her face tight. “Underoos for adults? Someone buy these for you as a gag gift?” she asked, unable to stop another giggle.
Slade sat up dragging the covers with him. His arm reached out to snatch the underwear from her, as a flush crept up his neck to stain his cheeks. “No, camo gets boring, so that was my middle finger to the military. It’s the only thing that kept me sane while I was deployed.”
The smile slid off of her face, but Taylor couldn’t help but ask, “So you have more? You wear them all the time?” The thought of this big beefy man wearing goofy underwear was titillating to her for some reason.
“I have a whole drawer full, if it’s any of your damned business,” he grumbled as he pulled them on under the covers.
“All with smiley faces?” she pressed, and a growl rumbled in his chest as he stood to glare down at her. Taylor’s eyes didn’t meet his though, hers fell to the smiley face on his crotch which at the moment was stretched over a long hard ridge that said he was very happy. She was mesmerized until his finger tipped up her chin.
“Let’s get something straight. I don’t want to get to know you, or have you in my business. I don’t need a mother, I have one. I hired you to help me find that kid, not as a fuck buddy. You won’t be sleeping in my room again, so pick a cot in the bunkhouse today, or get used to sleeping by yourself over in the other building.”
His green eyes were hard as granite, his words like bullets that chipped away any soft feelings for him inside of her and Taylor fought the burn in hers. Yesterday had been a nightmare for her, and today wasn’t shaping up to be any better. She wished she could just rewind to yesterday morning and have a redo. Then her life wouldn’t be upside down, and she definitely would not be here with this hard man.
“I just want to go home,” Taylor said, biting her lower lip and Slade’s eyes fell there.
She needed to find another job, maybe move somewhere else and start over. That’s what she should’ve done after her breakup with Mark and she wouldn’t be in this mess. But she hadn’t, and she was in this mess, so she needed this man to help her deal with it so she could start over.
“That’s not going to happen until we figure out who planted that bomb unless you want to go to jail.”
“I don’t have any of my things here, so I’ll have to go by there eventually,” Taylor replied with a huffed breath. She didn’t even have a toothbrush with her, or clean underwear.
Scratching at the door preceded a sharp bark, and muffled whining. Slade huffed a breath as he walked to the dresser, grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. “I’ll send Fletch over there later, so make a list of what you need.” He grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. “I’m going to let the dogs out, so you have about ten minutes to shower and get ready. We have a lot to do today and we’re late for the meeting.”
His brusque attitude this morning evidently didn’t extend to his dog, because he opened the door and greeted Lola with soft words and a scratch between her ears, before pulling it shut behind him.
Taylor grabbed her folded clothes from the dresser, then trod to the bathroom on leaden feet wondering what the hell happened to the relatively nice, seemingly easygoing man she’d taken a job from yesterday. The thing that really puzzled her though, was how she could be jealous of a damned dog.
CHAPTER NINE
“Let’s get busy.” Slade grated, as he strode into the conference room and felt seven sets of eyes glaring at him as he took Dave’s chair at the head of the table. His eyes ticked over every face taking roll call in his mind. “Where the fuck is Dexter?”
“Later than you, evidently,” Gray shot back, looking up from his laptop. His ey
es cut to Taylor, then narrowed as they swung back to Slade. “For a different reason, I’m sure.”
Anger scorched through Slade, and he opened his mouth to tell the judgmental pencil-pusher off, and he had plenty of steam to do a good job of it too, but Hawk cut him off.
“I tried to wake him up before I left the barracks, but he’s either comatose or dead,” Hawk informed with a laugh.
“He didn’t get in until four or five this morning,” Caleb added, and Slade’s anger deflated.
Probably because he’d been working on getting all the information together Slade had requested for this meeting. The geek got a pass this time, but they needed him here, no matter how tired he was.
“Well, somebody needs to go drag his ass up, because we can’t proceed without him.” Slade eyeballed, Caleb until he finally pushed his chair back.
“Dude, who shit in your Wheaties this morning?” he asked hotly as he stood and held Slade’s gaze. He waved his hand at the others. “We’re the ones who’ve been sitting here cooling our heels waiting for you to decide to stroll in.”
“Don’t push it,” Slade warned, lowering his tone a notch. “I’m not in the mood today.”
“Drink some coffee then and improve that mood, or we’re going to have some serious problems here today,” Caleb fired back, not blinking.
“I’ll go make some,” Taylor offered, pushing up to her feet.
“No—sit!” Slade barked, his eyes swinging to her.
“I’m not your damned dog,” she ground out, her eyes shooting blue fire at him as she lifted her stubborn little chin.
Slade’s eyes fell to her heaving, unbound breasts then ticked down to the waistband of her yoga pants. How in the hell was he supposed to focus on anything today when he knew she wasn’t wearing underwear?
He knew this because he found her black thong and bra hanging over the towel bar in his bathroom this morning where she’d evidently hung them to dry after washing them in the sink.
But he hadn’t needed to see those articles to know.
He’d been treated to a full visual display of swishes and jiggles, while they walked from the barracks to the office a few minutes ago. In the body-hugging top she wore, he also couldn’t miss the fact that her large nipples seemed to be in a perma-hard state. Sort of like his fucking cock when he was around her. Every man here had to notice too, and that pissed him off.
Slade might be less agitated at the moment if he could have done something about his frustration in the shower this morning, but she’d only left two damned minutes of hot water.
“Damn, I should’ve brought my machete to cut through the tension in here this morning,” Levi said with a laugh, as he pushed back his chair to stand and stare at Slade. “I’m leaving before it’s my turn, so I’ll make the coffee.” Without waiting, he all but ran for the door. Caleb stalked behind him out of the door.
Knowing he was about to have a rebellion on his hands, Slade dragged his eyes down to the table and took three deep, calming breaths. Lola nudged his hand under the table, and he rubbed her muzzle. Blowing out a breath, he looked back up. “I’m sorry, I’m just damned worried about all of our jobs here. We need to fix this situation fast. Friday will be here before we know it, and that ransom will be paid. Once that happens, we’re probably screwed.”
“Dex found billing addresses and phone numbers in the hotel database for the prince, so he put me on finding the money,” Gray announced, meeting Slade’s eyes again. “I found several accounts, but I’m still trying to figure out which is the prince’s personal account. I’ll work on his brother’s when I have that nailed down.”
Mackenzie cleared his throat. “I’m doing background checks on the royal family, and the hotel employees he identified from hacking into the hotel database. The list is long, and I’ll have to go through Interpol for the family. I’ll try to have answers by Friday, but it’ll probably take me at least a week to finish.”
An involuntary smile curved Slade’s lips, as the tension inside of him eased. “What in the hell do you guys need me for?” he asked, and they laughed.
Slade loved when he was reminded just how damned good the Deep Six team was. Dave Logan was either a brilliant strategist when it came to assembling a team, or he had a horseshoe up his ass. Every man here knew his job well, and was the absolute fucking best at it. They might not always get along, but one thing he knew was when it came down to a mission or an investigation they worked together like a well-oiled machine.
His eyes tracked to Taylor, who was sitting again, but still shot hot blue daggers at him from the other end of the table. He hoped his additions to the team so far, Taylor and Cee Cee, didn’t mess up their mojo.
“To be the resident grumpy bastard while Dave’s out of the position?” Caleb guessed with a derisive snort, as he walked back into the conference room. Dexter stumbled in behind him, his arms loaded down with a laptop and several thick stacks of printouts.
Slade ignored the Deep Six sniper because he deserved that shot, and instead turned his attention to the buttoned-up forensic accountant who was squinting at his laptop screen. “Gray, once you identify the accounts, I need you to watch closely for a ten million dollar transfer.”
Grayson’s head snapped up again, his eyebrows raised. “Why ten million?” he asked.
“That’s the ransom demand and I need to know where it goes, if it’s made.”
An idea occurred to Slade that would get Taylor Kincaid out of his hair too.
“Mac, I have help for you,” he said, meeting the detective’s eyes. He waved his hand down to the end of the table. “You haven’t met her yet, but this is Taylor Kincaid, the former security head at the hotel. I’ll bet she can help you whittle that list down, so you can give me answers sooner.” Slade transferred his gaze to Taylor and smiled. “She even has a list of her own that she stole from her former employer so you can compare notes.”
Taylor’s shocked look and outraged gasp made his smile widen.
“I didn’t steal it,” Taylor hissed, glaring at him. “It was in my drawer, and I had every right to have it. I wasn’t hiding it from anyone.”
“Yeah, it’s only taking those hidden things that makes you a thief, right?” Slade asked sarcastically, and rolled his eyes.
“I guess it all depends on the item that’s hidden, Smiley.”
Taylor’s meaning was not lost on him considering the evil smile that punctuated her words. Slade’s smile faded and he held his breath as he waited for her to out him on his underwear choices. But she just folded her arms over her chest, thankfully hiding those damned nipples from his view.
“You know I work alone,” Mac said gruffly, glancing at Taylor like she had two heads.
Yeah, Slade knew that, but Mac needed to learn to be less of a loner and a control freak, or he was going to burn out. Because it was how he’d always operated during his fifteen years as a veteran detective with the Dallas Police Department, he kept everything too close to his vest until he had all his ducks in a row. Slade also knew, he wasn’t overly fond of women since his ex-wife had done a number on him. Yet another reason he needed to work with one to get over it.
Slade leaned back in his chair, proud that he must be as good a strategist as his best friend. Getting into his role as boss, he turned his attention to Fletcher, who appeared to be half-asleep in the chair beside Dexter who was slumped down in his chair sleeping.
“Fletch?” he said and the man jumped, then straightened up in his chair. “I need you to discreetly get into Taylor’s house tonight to retrieve some clothes and things for her. She’s going to make a list for you.”
“I hope it includes a bra,” he said with a rusty laugh, his gaze locking onto Taylor’s chest.
Taylor’s mouth dropped open, and her cheeks turned bright red.
Anger blew through Slade like a tornado to swirl inside his skull. With every eye in the room on him, even Dexter’s who seemed wide awake now, he slowly stood, then strode around the
table to tower over Fletcher.
“Stand up, Fletcher,” he growled, jerking his chair away from the table.
Fletch pushed up to his feet and took a step back, but Slade stepped forward to grab the front of his shirt and lift the shorter man to his toes. He tried to hide his fear, but Slade saw it in his eyes when leaned down to bring their noses almost tip to tip.
“If I ever hear you talk about Taylor that way again, or be disrespectful to any woman Deep Six employs for that matter, I will personally throw your ass over that fence outside. Do you understand me?” Fletcher swallowed hard, and nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. Slade wanted to hear the words. He twisted his fist and the knot in the shirt tightened. “Answer me, Fletcher, or I swear to God I’ll put my fist in your face,” he ground out.
“I understand,” Fletcher replied, his voice an octave higher than usual.
Slade loosened his grip and lowered the man back to his feet. “Good, now apologize to her, and make it good,” he growled, as he turned and walked back to his chair.
“I’m sorry for being an asshole, Taylor.” His gaze darted to Slade as he sat down again. “Really sorry.”
The room went dead silent, until Taylor nodded.
“Okay then,” Hawk said loudly, as he slapped the table and stood. “I don’t think y’all need me anymore, so I’m taking the bird to Houston for some maintenance. Call me if you need me.” Before Slade could say a word, he was out of the door. The rest of the room cleared just as fast, but he caught Taylor at the door.
“Taylor, I need to talk to you a minute, please.” She stopped, studied him a minute then grabbed a chair, but he caught her before she sat. “Privately, so shut the door.”
“Am I fired already?” she asked sharply, as she shut the door took the chair to his left.
“No, but you will be if you ever show as little sense about working around men as you did today,” Slade replied as calmly as he could manage, because he was seething inside over the whole situation. Mostly at Fletcher, but she had a hand in creating it too.
