Fast Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  His background and security clearance were the only reasons it had been allowed. She’d become a pretty decent shot, too. Not exactly the most romantic of settings, but watching her slowly gain her confidence with him while becoming less afraid and far more than proficient with a firearm were rewards in themselves. Those were the only times they’d been alone together, and he wished they’d had more.

  The last time he’d seen her was right before they deployed to Afghanistan on this most recent rotation. They’d talked via video chat and emailed or texted back and forth a bit, but always surface stuff and it wasn’t the same as seeing her face to face. He’d texted her last night when his team had arrived home, hoping to talk to her. Figure out a way to see her again.

  He dialed her number with his hands-free device as he drove away from base, conscious of the tingle of excitement in his gut.

  “Hey, I got your text,” she said when she answered. “Good to be home?”

  Even better to hear your voice. “Yup. Didn’t miss the D.C. traffic, though,” he added, now stopped on the highway over a mile from his exit.

  “I’ll bet. Everybody on the team okay?”

  He loved that she cared enough to ask. There was so much he couldn’t tell her about what had happened while they were away, but he could tell her that. “All good. Every one of us made it back in one piece.” Though Maka would be sore for a few more days.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She cleared her throat, signaling she was about to get down to business. If there was one thing he’d learned about her, it was that she spoke her mind. He found it damn refreshing. “Listen, you can totally say no, but I was wondering if I could come over to talk to you about something.”

  His internal radar pinged. Was something wrong? Outside of the range, the only other place he’d seen her was at a hospital, a lawyer’s office or a meeting room in a secure building. “Come over…to my place?”

  “Yes. If you’re okay with that,” she added quickly. “I’d have to get clearance from my security team, but since they all know you, under the circumstances I think they’d probably allow it.”

  He was still concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine.”

  The tension in his gut eased. What did she want to talk to him about that required them to be face to face at his place? He was definitely intrigued, and wasn’t passing up the opportunity to see her. She’d been on his mind constantly while he was away. “Sure, when did you have in mind?”

  “I was hoping for tonight, if you’re not too tired. It won’t take long.”

  He was bagged, but his tiredness disappeared under a rush of excitement at seeing her again. “Works for me. Have you had dinner?”

  “Not yet. Want me to bring something over?”

  “I’ll grab some groceries on my way home. Does seven work?”

  “For me, it does. I’ll check with my team and get back to you. Okay?”

  “Okay. Talk to you soon.” They ended the call, and he found himself smiling despite the traffic as he took the next exit a quarter mile up, diverting to the grocery store. After picking up everything he needed, he headed home on the feeder routes, unpacked everything and tidied up his condo even though he’d had a cleaning service come by a few days before he got home.

  He was in the middle of unpacking when Victoria texted that she’d be over at seven. Brock gave her his address, put away his bags and got busy prepping dinner. He was a pretty basic cook and rarely cooked for anyone. Burgers, steaks. Except Victoria didn’t eat beef now, because it reminded her of the night her family had been killed.

  He blew out a breath, eyed the ingredients laid out on the counter. Really, how bad could he screw up chicken and grilled veggies?

  Bad enough.

  He could have looked up a recipe online. Except he wasn’t much good in the kitchen even with written instructions. So he swallowed his pride, came to his senses and dialed the team’s foodie and food inhaler, Maka. Who hopefully wasn’t already so deep in homecoming bliss with his girlfriend Abby that he would still answer his damn phone.

  “Cap. What’s up, brah?” his teammate answered.

  Thank God. “I need some cooking assistance.”

  “Yeah?” He sounded surprised. “So, let me get this straight. You pull a stunt like that at Bagram, have the entire team dog pile on me just so you can steal the belt, and now you think you can call me up and ask me for help?”

  While at Bagram they’d formed a superhero wrestling league a few weeks in to pass the time. “Yeah. And by the way, it’s hanging over my desk in my office right now.”

  Maka chuckled. “That’s cold, man, but fine. I dig that you need my help.”

  God, maybe he should have just risked burning everything instead of making this call. “Uh huh. So? Yes or no?”

  “Of course yes. You want to ask me, or Abby?”

  “You’ll do. So I’m making chicken and grilled veggies for company. Peppers, zucchini and stuff.” Seemed simple enough when he’d seen something similar cooked on the food channel.

  “Okay. Whaddya want to know?”

  “How do I make it taste good?”

  Maka huffed out a laugh. “What kind of seasonings you got?”

  “I dunno, some stuff in the cupboard. Basic stuff.” He glanced at his watch. “And I gotta be honest, I don’t have long to get this done.”

  “Why, who you having over?”

  “A friend.”

  “A female friend?”

  Brock had no trouble picturing the eager expression to match that tone. “Maybe.”

  Another low laugh. “All right, be all secretive. Here’s what you need.”

  Brock pulled out every single spice he owned from the pantry. All five of them, including salt and pepper. Maka declared the remaining three totally useless and revolting for chicken and veggies. “Yeah, well, that’s all I’ve got. Work with me.”

  “That is just so sad and wrong,” Maka said in disgust. “Man, I’m going with you to the store tomorrow so you can have stuff on hand that will actually make your food taste good. Damn, Cap.”

  He flushed. “I eat out a lot.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you do with only that in your pantry.”

  “Okay, so my seasonings suck. Now what?”

  It took some doing, and Brock had to run next door and ask his elderly neighbor for some basil and balsamic vinegar—which she thankfully had. Once he had all the instructions from Maka figured out, he went into frantic chef mode.

  Thirty minutes later, to his surprise the kitchen smelled freaking amazing. He was just basting more of the homemade glazing stuff onto the chicken for the last part of the cooking time when Victoria texted that she was in the underground parking garage. A surge of excitement hit his bloodstream, similar to when he was about to lead the team on an op.

  She was still at the WITSEC safe site here in D.C. even though her testimony was over. Maybe the government thought she could still be of help with the ongoing Nieto and Montoya investigations, because they hadn’t sent her to her new life yet. The marshals in charge of her security had tightened protocols even more after the breaches with other witnesses pertaining to the Veneno cartel six months ago. Her driver would wait in the vehicle while the other marshal came in and checked the building.

  Brock met him at the door. They knew each other, so he went back to finishing up dinner while the marshal checked his place.

  “Okay, I’ll bring her up in a few minutes,” he said to Brock when he was done searching. If the marshal wondered what the hell was going on with this visit, he didn’t let on with his tone or expression.

  “Sounds good.” He couldn’t wait to see her, had taken the two books she’d written with him to reread at Bagram. Both were about her investigative work on North American drug cartels, mostly about the Venenos. Incredible, detailed work he admired, but respected tenfold more now that he had gotten to know her and her story. The cartel had targeted her because of her work, yet
even everything she had endured at their hands hadn’t crushed her spirit. The woman was a serious badass in her own right.

  He’d still been overseas when she’d given her victim impact statement to the judge in front of Ruiz, and he wished like hell he could have been there to support her. They’d talked about it a little afterward, over the phone. Facing down Ruiz after so many months and recounting aloud the things his men had done to her and her family must have been tough.

  Tough but awesome, because she had so much strength in her. Maybe more than she realized. She amazed him.

  At the knock on the door, more excitement tingled in his gut. He answered it, nodded once at the marshal before allowing his gaze to drink in the sight of Victoria as he stepped back out of the way. “Come on in.”

  The marshal headed back down the hallway. Victoria aimed a little smile at Brock and walked past into the entryway, her coffee-brown eyes filled with warmth. “It’s good to see you.”

  He put his hands in his pockets to stem the urge to hug her. “Good to see you too.” Better than good, although he was careful to hide it.

  She took off her coat, revealing a short-sleeve cherry red turtleneck that hugged the lean lines of her torso. Dark, snug jeans made her legs look a mile long. She’d grown out her hair since he’d last seen her, the deep brown waves caressing her shoulders.

  She was even more stunning than he remembered.

  She glanced around his place. “It smells fantastic in here.”

  He hoped it tasted decent. If not, he’d order another team dog pile on Maka as punishment. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Come sit and make yourself comfortable while I finish up.”

  She followed him into the kitchen and took a seat at the far counter, composed. Contained, as always. It made him wonder what lay beneath that cool exterior. He’d seen glimpses of the fire in her. He wanted to see more of it.

  “I bought some wine if you want some,” he said.

  “Love a glass, although I already had one earlier with Trinity and Briar and I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he poured the ruby liquid into a glass for her. “How’s training going?”

  “Good. We’ve been working on breaking chokeholds and disarming moves. I can give you a demo later if you want to see.”

  He smiled. “I might.” Especially if it gave him an excuse to be close to her. Although after what she’d been through, he was scared to touch her in case it triggered a bad memory.

  After making up their plates he carried them over to the counter and paused beside one of the stools, leaving one empty in between him and Victoria. He was always careful about not crowding her or making sudden moves around her, especially when they were alone. “You okay here, or do you want to move to the table?”

  “Here’s fine.”

  He lowered himself onto the stool and raised his own wineglass. “To you.”

  She blinked at him. “Me?”

  He nodded. “You.”

  A startled smile spread across her face, and she touched her glass to his gently. “Well, thank you. And here’s to you being home safe and sound.”

  “Cheers.” He deliberately kept the conversation light as they ate, attuned to her body language, her face. She seemed relaxed around him, more so than she was with most other people, but there was definitely something going on in her head. What did she want to talk to him about?

  “What rank did you have when you left the army?” she asked, surprising him.

  “Captain. I’d just finished off my master’s degree in leadership.”

  “So does your team call you Cap because of that, or because you’re a Captain America superfreak?”

  He cracked a grin. “The second part.”

  She studied him a moment, a faint smile playing on her lips. “It suits you. Did you always want to try out for Special Forces?”

  Where was she going with this? “Ever since I thought about enlisting.” He’d wanted to be part of the tip of the spear, and he’d gotten his wish.

  “What made you decide to get out?”

  “Constantly being on long deployments. They needed us in so many places, we were lucky if we got to come home once every year.” He had to grin, because the irony didn’t escape him. “And here I am, winding up in Afghanistan for four months every year.”

  She smiled then lowered her gaze and forked up a bite of vegetables. “I bet it was hard on your family too. Or your significant other.”

  Brock analyzed her line of questioning. Was she fishing? “My mom was worried sick every time I deployed. As for significant others, there were only a handful of those and it never lasted.” Including his last serious relationship that had ended eighteen months ago. She got sick of him being gone all the time, and moved out while he was deployed.

  “You seeing anyone now?”

  The question made him glance at her in surprise. It had seemed casual enough, but the way she’d asked it, while avoiding his gaze, made him curious. “No. Just to jog your memory, I’ve been away for the past four months,” he teased.

  She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Really? Who was I going to get involved with in Afghanistan, even if I’d had the time?” It happened, but as team leader, he took his responsibility to his team and his agency seriously, and tried to lead by example in every way.

  She smiled. “Okay, forget I said that.”

  He leaned back, propping an elbow on the countertop. “Why do you ask?”

  Rather than answer, she cleared her throat and reached for her wine, sharpening his interest and attention even more. It was like she was working up the courage to say something, which went against everything he knew about her personality to this point. “No reason.”

  Beautiful liar. He resumed eating the rest of his meal, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was definitely nervous. Why?

  He finished, forced himself to wait until she had only a bite or two left before asking, “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  Her fork stopped in the act of spearing the last bit of chicken. She cleared her throat again, still wouldn’t look at him. “I have a proposition for you.”

  All kinds of intrigued now, he pushed his plate away and gave her his full attention. “That sounds interesting.” Way too interesting.

  She took another sip of wine, almost for courage, then lowered her glass and finally turned her head to meet his gaze. “Once the sentencing happens, if nothing new surfaces about Nieto or Montoya that I could help them with, it probably won’t be long until they move me out of D.C. and send me to my new life.”

  A weird tightening sensation pulled in his chest. Dread. He’d known the time would come when she could leave and start over again somewhere else under a new identity. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Felt certain that he would regret losing her, even though she wasn’t his. His feelings made no sense, yet they were there nonetheless. “Right.”

  She looked away again, began fiddling with the stem of her wineglass. “So, the thing is, I’ve been working hard to get myself together. Prepare for starting over. For the most part, I feel ready. But there are other things. Areas where I don’t feel ready at all.”

  He stayed quiet, watching her, letting her get to the point in her own time even though he was ready to burst from curiosity.

  Drawing a deep breath, she met his eyes again. “I want to reclaim my sexuality again, and it has to be with someone I trust. I was hoping you would consider helping me with that.”

  Brock barely kept his mouth from falling open in shock. Of all the things she could have said, even though she spoke her mind, this was so unexpected and outside the realm of anything he’d anticipated, he wasn’t even sure he’d heard her right. “You want me to sleep with you?” he blurted, needing to make sure he’d understood.

  Her cheeks flushed, but to her credit she didn’t look away. “If I can go that far. But if it would
put you in a bad position or compromise your career in any way, then please pretend I never brought it up,” she added quickly.

  Brock stared at her in stunned silence for a moment. Was she fucking serious? He’d been harboring secret fantasies about her for months, feeling guilty as hell about it because he knew what she’d been through in those weeks she’d spent as a captive to Ruiz’s men. And here she was asking him to take her to bed, but only if he was okay with it?

  “Why?” he asked bluntly, refusing to let his little brain take over. This was important. He needed to understand why she needed this, why him, and he needed to hear it in her words.

  “Because I want to have a normal life at some point in the future, possibly even a relationship with someone, and sex is going to be a stumbling block for me. When I was held prisoner they took my dignity and my self-image away. I want to reclaim those parts of myself. My femininity and my body, and I need a partner I trust to help me do that. So I thought maybe…” She glanced at him, the first stirrings of uncertainty written in her eyes.

  Her answer made all kinds of sense, and yet there were still so many questions he wanted to ask. Starting with the most important one. “You trust me, and I’m glad. But that’s not the same thing as wanting me.” He paused a beat. “Do you want me?”

  Because if she wasn’t attracted to him physically, then even discussing this further was a bad idea.

  She’d been brutally violated by multiple men. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter how nicely she asked, he refused to add to that trauma. He thought he’d caught a gleam of interest from her a few times over the past year, but hadn’t read much into it because he assumed anything between them other than platonic friendship would be impossible.