Surrendering To Her Sergeant

by Angel Payne

  Her gaze drifted out the window. “That’s one way of putting it.” She let out a raspy laugh. “The signs were all there; I just didn’t want to see them. Flynn was like Colin in all the big ways…the sex, the laughter…so like a fool, I jumped straight to the next logical conclusion.”

  “That you two were connected enough for marriage.” After accepting her grimace as confirmation, he ventured, “So you really are the cute house and swing set girl.”

  She swept to her feet in a furious rush. “People break, Ethan, remember? And who wants broken goods?”

  Okay, no more Mr. Calm and Understanding. He surged up as well, and advanced straight toward her. “And that’s logical how? Just because Flynn the Fuckhead didn’t want to walk down the aisle?”

  She turned back before he got to her, stopping him in his tracks. Every inch of her face was possessed by raw defeat. “Because he didn’t want to walk down the aisle with me, Ethan.”

  He scowled. “What are you saying?”

  Another sad laugh spilled from her. “He went to a training meeting in Reno sponsored by a civilian contractor. On the second night, he called sobbing at me—in happiness. Apparently, he and a girl from the base workshop decided to come clean about a mutual attraction, and they’d just tied the knot. That knot. He’d called to ask if I’d go to his apartment and clean out my stuff, so his new wife wouldn’t have to.”

  “Fuck.”

  It wasn’t eloquent. He doubted it was even comforting. But it was the only thing his fury could coherently create. It turned him into a slab of awkward uselessness, unsure whether to hug her, punch a wall for her, or ask her for Flynn’s last name so he could hunt down the prick and turn him into a soprano for her.

  Ava was somehow able to read all that across his face. “It’s all right,” she said with a shrug. “I should probably thank the guy. After Zoe helped me get my head and heart back together, I decided that after everything the Lewis-McChord boys had put me through, the Hollywood jungle would be a breeze. It’s when I moved down here and took a shot at styling the big-timers.”

  “And here you are.” He let her hear the encouraging pride in his tone. It seemed to surprise her. Then unnerve her.

  “Right.” She flashed a smile more falsely bright than her voice. “Here I am.”

  “Successful, confident, beautiful.” And never imagining that the corporal you kissed in the woods back home was going to be the sergeant who brought all that shit screaming back to your front door. “I’m really proud of you.”

  He dared lifting a hand to brush some hair from her face. Somehow he had to make her see that he wasn’t another Flynn, that everything from yesterday still meant something to him today, probably more. But in doing so, the curtains from the ruse with Bella had to stay up. He had to save face without tempting her to claw the skin off it. Easy-peasy, yeah?

  While he deliberated what the hell to say and do now, she’d obviously been doing the same thing. From the sad vacillation in her eyes and the little bites she dug into her lips, he already knew he wouldn’t like her outcome. “Ethan…”

  “What?”

  “You’re still officially on duty, right? How do you guys say it? ‘The op’s in play’?” She asked it in a rasp softer than the breeze on the windows. Damn it. He could deal with her in pissed off whirlwind mode, but this permeating sadness simply froze him in place.

  “Yeah,” he growled. “Right.”

  Though she ran reverent fingers along his lapels and name badge as she did, the motions were more good-bye, soldier than hello, Sir. “That means you’re ‘working’ with Bella more.”

  Ethan expelled a hard breath. He wrapped her fingers in his, dragging the depths of his self-control not to grip until he had her hauled against him. “What does that have to do with us?”

  The beginning of a new sob crunched her face, though she beat it back by defiantly jerking up her chin. “It has everything to do with us and you know it.” The tears finally broke through, falling in thick, silent tracks down her face. “It always did, from the second Bella saw you again yesterday. I knew it and I ignored it…and I was stupid to do so.”

  His own teeth locked, barring his snarl until he spoke. “Ava—”

  “I just hoped—” she stammered. “I—I just thought that maybe—”

  When she couldn’t finish, he decided to do it for her. Why the fuck not, when his gut-deep growl phrased everything so perfectly? It resonated through him as he dragged her against him. In a heady instant, her scent surrounded him. Oranges and jasmine filled his nostrils as her sweet nearness ignited his body. His skin blazed. His blood was liquid fire. His cock felt like a goddamn signal flare. He tunneled his other hand into her hair, positioning her face for his commanding kiss. In another second, he’d prove that her hopes weren’t for nothing. That he hoped, too. And wanted. And needed. And craved. And—

  She’d be even more shattered than before.

  Fuck. He couldn’t do this. No matter how it got choreographed, taking her in the horizontal mambo now would be doomed to disaster. Even if he gave her a dozen screaming orgasms, it wouldn’t redeem him from what had to happen when they returned to real life. The Don Juan veneer with Bella had to continue until he, Rhett, and Rebel cracked Lemare’s inner sanctum. Compounding that by getting naked with Ava again would officially ink him onto her Flynn and Assorted Other Assholes list.

  But if he took her into confidence and revealed the true purpose of their on-set presence, he risked the security of the entire team as well as her own. They had no idea what the Aragons and their producer friend were actually up to. Letting her bite that apple of knowledge would only replace her fury with fear, exhuming Colin’s ghost when she was blatantly reminded of how dangerous his work really was.

  He stood in the middle of Hollywood, California, but he might as well be on the road between Ramadi and Fallujah. Screwed no matter which direction he chose.

  He pressed his forehead to hers as he sucked down air in hard heaves. Her chest pumped with the same ferocity. Fuck. Fuck. Just another inch, a few millimeters and he’d at least get to at least taste her once more. Drink in the nectar of her sweet, hot mouth…

  With tight chokes, they pulled away from each other.

  “M-maybe,” she whispered, “this all happened for the best.”

  The fuck it did. “Sure.”

  “Don’t growl. I’m serious.”

  Serious was a few miles back, sunshine. I’m pretty much at miserable now. “Uh-huh.”

  “We—we have closure now, Ethan. Seven months ago, we didn’t. We got it all out of our systems. Now we can move on.”

  She had the audacity to urge him into a “friendly” hug. But as he enveloped her back in his arms, breathed her back into his senses, let her warmth permeate him like a bath in summer sun, only one blowback of thought blasted through his mind, charring the edges of his soul.

  “Out of my system?” That’s one place you’ll never be again, Ava. Ever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’m never going to complain about surveillance on hostiles again.”

  Kellan’s remark, mumbled between a couple of swigs of energy drink, brought out a commiserating chuckle from Tait. They’d been parked on this soundstage roof from six in the morning until ten at night for four days now. Nearly sixty-five hours of watching nothing but rolling costume racks, trucks full of plants and props, carts full of electronics, and golf carts full of arguing people roll by. If gathering intel in the Mideast desert was tedious, spying on this rogue state of creative combustion was a goddamn soul sucker.

  “Crap on a stick!”

  A starlet below, outfitted in a formfitting gold toga for an episode of the superhero show that taped down the way, stopped and exclaimed it to her friend, who was outfitted in a turquoise blue version of the same ensemble.

  “Another broken nail?” Tait mumbled.

  “Pffft.” Kell peered through his hand scope. “She’s looking the wrong direction. I’ll b
et the double-sided tit tape isn’t working on that slick fabric again.”

  “We can only hope.”

  His friend hummed in surprise. “Not a broken nail. A broken heel.”

  “A what?”

  “Shoe,” Kell explained. “Her left heel snapped right off.”

  “That’s new.”

  “No shit. I wonder if Wardrobe checks the costumes for issues like that.”

  Tait shoved back and leaned against a low wall that framed an industrial air conditioning unit. “And I wonder if we’ll ever have a conversation about something that really matters again.”

  “Fuck.” It was Kell’s way of agreeing. Not that he dropped the scope for a second.

  They passed several more minutes listening to the buxom blonde and her leggy friend go over the options she had with the broken shoe, while continuing to keep one eye apiece on the side door to the Dress Blues soundstage. While this entrance got used less by the show’s cast and crew, they took an educated stab at this being the best area to observe Lor’s comings and goings, since his on-lot offices were closer to this door. But so far, the only thing they’d seen the guy do was talk on his phone, fix his hair, pace to his office, talk on his phone some more, hit on gold toga and turquoise toga, then talk on his phone even more.

  At first, all that cell chatter had given them hope, but after accessing and translating both sides of the conversations, they had nothing except recordings of Lor talking about production deals, selling his mansion, and bawling out his nutritionist that after taking thirty supplements every day, he wasn’t gaining the muscles the guy had apparently promised. Tait and Kellan had started to throw down bets as to when the nutritionist would grow the balls to address the man’s nonstop cigarette habit. So far, their joint ante totaled forty-two dollars and fifty cents.

  “Okay, let’s feed the kitty,” Kell offered. “A buck says Aphrodite girl decides to go for the exotic look and barefoots it.”

  Tait snorted. “Are you serious? She’s pea green over the bestie’s height. Not a chance she’s giving up the heels.”

  A voice from directly over his head drawled, “Sounds like you boys are having a grand time.”

  Tait joined Kell in whipping out his pistol and turning on the source of the quip. “Holy God,” he spat, exasperated and relieved at the same time. Though he matched Kell’s inhalation to try and regulate his heartbeat to normal, there was a slim fucking chance of success when Luna stood there outfitted to the brink like the studio accountant she was impersonating. Her dark brown wig was styled in a demure bun that topped double pearls at her neck, a grey vest over a white dress shirt, and a black pencil skirt with matching black pumps.

  “Somebody rang for God?”

  She strutted forward, taking the saucy secretary image to a whole new level. Tait couldn’t rip his stare off of her. Holy fuck, what he wouldn’t do for a three-piece suit and a desk with bondage hooks about now.

  Kell broke into that wet dream with a line of blazing rage. “Are you fucking nuts?” he charged.

  “Maybe,” Luna returned. “Scratch that. Yeah, probably.”

  Kellan held up his pistol while he dropped back into position to scope out Lor’s door. “These are called firearms, Luna. We pull them out when there’s the possibility of hurting or even killing someone with them.”

  To Tait’s shock, Luna dipped her head and kicked at the cement below them. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  After Kell acknowledged that by throwing up his hands, forgiving her and ignoring her in the same gesture, Tait shifted closer toward her. Watching her even inch toward submissiveness with someone other than him was, he now openly admitted, a massive problem. “How the hell did you get up here? In those shoes? It’s a twenty-foot vertical climb, after you clear the soundstage catwalks.”

  “What?” Her eyes, covered by contacts that darkened them to midnight blue, narrowed in confusion. “They’re platform heels, Weasley, not strappies.”

  “Well, shit. Now I feel so much better.”

  “Stop being a Neanderthal.”

  He grinned. The opening was too damn good. After making sure the toga girls had really secured Kell’s attention again, he couldn’t resist forming a hand around the perfect swell of her ass. He leaned down and grated into her ear, “You crave Neanderthal.”

  Her breath instantly hitched, igniting every inch of his body, before she countered, “You have no idea what I crave.”

  “I have every idea what you crave.” He traveled his hand further around her body. “And every idea of how to give it to you.”

  She reached a hand to stop him but stopped it at his forearm, betraying her own need by gripping him tight there. Since they were working this op out of sight, he and Kell were dressed in camo tops and bottoms, but that didn’t stop the magic of her touch from penetrating the thick cloth.

  “What?” she murmured. “You going to wave your ‘magic wand’ at me, Weasley?”

  He ran his lips down the column of her neck. “Flinging long, blunt objects might have something to do with it, yes.”

  She dug her grip harder. The action pulled at his arm hair. The tiny rasps of pain fired his desire even hotter. “We—we have to—stop.”

  He groaned. “Did you have to pick the second I discovered your thong line to say that?”

  A little laugh spilled from her, sounding like sultry music, before she stepped back and deliberately kept him at arm’s distance. “This is business, okay? I’m up here, even in this getup, because Franzen and Dan sent me.”

  For a second, he was actually grateful for her no-nonsense stance. It helped him leapfrog over the observation that she she’d said Dan again, with that little pitch of familiarity smoothed on top. Nope. Don’t go there, dude. Not now.

  He called back to Kellan, “Yo, Slash. Get your adorable ass over here.”

  Kell shoved to his feet and trudged over. “My ass is none of your business, dickwad.”

  Normally that would earn the guy another line of snark but Luna now braced her posture like his, doubling his curiosity about her purpose in coming up. When she had Kell’s full attention too, she started. “Bernardo Galvaz contacted Dan late last night.”

  Tait traded a glance with his partner.

  “The guy Runway chatted up in the desert last week?” Kellan confirmed. “Colton reinserted him back in with the Aragons after the interrogation, right?”

  Luna nodded. “He called on the private line for the branch. Wouldn’t speak to anyone but Dan. Apparently, the Aragons are planning quite a party, cartel style.”

  “Meaning?” Kellan prompted.

  “The compound has become more lively than usual. Galvaz even said he felt like they were preparing to become a war zone. The two Aragons themselves, who usually appear publically in nothing but pricey suits and designer shoes, were greeting new recruits in battle camos.” Her brow furrowed and her full lips twisted. “The fact that they were ‘greeting’ recruits at all raises a flag. Mateo and Alex aren’t usually ones for denting their manicures on the boys who run their smack.”

  Tait voiced the logical conclusion to that. “If the ‘guests’ are drug hustlers at all.”

  “That was Galvaz’s point.” Luna raised her hands to her hips in emphasis. “He went on to tell Dan that these guys didn’t seem like street dealers. They walked past tables full of new heroin bricks without blinking. Their goal was clearly something else.”

  Kellan leaned against the air conditioning hutch, shoulders tight with concentration. “Professional mercenaries, then? But for what purpose?”

  Aggravation pressed on Tait. “Damn it. We need to get into that laptop.”

  Luna took a measured breath. “That’s why I’m here.” She tossed a glance across the roofs of the studio lot then back to both of them. “They’ve sent out a second laptop.”

  “What?” He joined Kell in growling it.

  “It left the compound after midnight in a Mercedes with California plates, with four of those n
ew mercenaries inside. It was the main reason Galvaz called. The guy is wigged. He negotiated with Dan on the line for his family’s safety because he’s sure he’ll be dead at the end of all this. He’s also sure he won’t be the only one.”

  “Fuck,” Kellan muttered.

  Tait was tempted to echo his friend’s sentiment. There was something about the way Luna’s face softened as she said that, almost like she commiserated with Galvaz, that made his arms clench with the need to pull her close again, and keep her there this time.

  He funneled his frustration into a tight-lipped outburst. “Haven’t these jerkoffs heard of the Internet? What’s so important that they can’t encrypt the shit out of it, press Send, and become the problem of the cyber-spooks in Langley?”

  Kell didn’t bite on the bait of his rant. The guy rarely did. It was why they worked well together. Instead his friend lifted a nearly serene gaze back to Luna. “So you’re saying we now keep eyes open for the second laptop.”

  She nodded again. “And radio straight to Franz if you do.”

  It was the answer they both expected so Kell didn’t say anything at first. He swept an even gaze across the cityscape, raising it to include the iconic letters on Mount Lee, H-O-L-L-Y-W-O-O-D, before murmuring, “We’re still only doing half the job if we don’t get that data stick.”

  The comment made Tait wince on behalf of Rhett, Rebel, and Ethan. As much as this part of the op sucked ass, he and Kellan had a cakewalk compared to the world of glitz, glamour, and insanity through which their friends had slogged the last few days.

  “I can speak for the spooks in saying we wholeheartedly agree with you, Sergeant Rush.” As if to prove the point behind her tense tone, Luna squirmed against the confines of her outfit. Fucking great. Just when Tait’s crotch had settled to a comfortable state of stand-down, she went and let all that fabric rub her body in all the places he wanted his hands. “And I’m glad to say we might be catching a break there, too.”

  “Thank God,” Kellan declared.