The Omega Team: Hot Rod (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Sabrina York

  “Hmm.” She affected a cheery tone, though her soul was writhing. “What was she like?”

  He was silent for a minute, then said starkly, “I’m not talking about her.”

  Contrarily, given his response, it was the only thing she wanted to talk about. Did he still have some shred of feelings for that poor, sad, doomed girl?

  “Her?” Yeah. The word came out hard and strident. “Only one girlfriend? A hard, hot SEAL like you?”

  He glared at her. “I wasn’t a SEAL then. I was fifteen.”

  “But I bet you were hot.”

  His eyes narrowed even more. He studied her and then he leaned closer, far too close, in-your-face close, and whispered, “So you think I’m hot?”

  She lurched back as though he’d scorched her with his fiery dragon breath. “I didn’t say you‘re hot.”

  “I think you did.” He nudged his chair closer to hers, but only to intimidate her. She could tell he thought if he was daunting enough, she would run. And then he wouldn’t have to talk about it.

  But he didn’t know her.

  Not anymore.

  “All right. Okay.” She waved a blasé hand at him. His freaking gorgeous face, his massive shoulders, the chest that made her palpitate. “You’re hot. So what?”

  “Right.” He leaned back and folded his fingers. “I forgot. You’ve been with lots of hot men, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, just oodles.” She didn’t know why he scowled. She was supposed to be a hooker, after all. “And you’ve been with oodles of women too.”

  “You so sure about that?”

  “Um… Yeah. Pretty sure. How many have you been with?” Again, squirming curiosity and a question that should never have been uttered. Because at her core, she really didn’t want to know.

  He frowned. “That’s a pretty personal question to ask someone you just met.”

  “Afraid to answer?”

  “No.”

  The ancient clock ticked as she waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “How many?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I really don’t know.”

  “So many?” Almost a sneer.

  His lashes lowered, shielding his expression. “So…forgettable.”

  Well hell. That stopped her in her tracks. The answer, and something else. Something around him, a muddy cloud, a sadness she hated to see clinging to him. As though he had tasted all the world had to offer, and its flavor was ash.

  “Whatever happened with her?” Somehow, the question was soft and gentle, though she was neither.

  “Her?”

  “The girl. The one you knew when you were fifteen?”

  His expression, when he finally looked up at her, devastated her. Such anguish. Such torment. It breathed life into that flaccid hope that there’d been an excuse for his desertion. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten about her after all. Maybe…

  “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “But—”

  “You should get some sleep.”

  “I’m just asking.”

  “And I’m not answering. Go to bed.”

  “Matt—”

  He stood so quickly, his chair tipped over. The thud bounced off the walls like a gunshot. A bustling from the mens’ room arose and Coop bolted out wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants.

  “What was that?” he cried, quartering the room with a hard-eyed surveillance.

  “I knocked over the chair. Sorry. Go on back to sleep,” Matt said, and then, for some reason, glowered at her.

  It was hardly her fault.

  “Well, hell.” Coop yawned. “It’s almost my shift. Why don’t you go ahead and turn in? I left the bed warm for you.”

  “Thanks.” A grunt, but barely that.

  Cooper turned to Sam and shot her an affable grin. “And what are you doing up, pretty lady?”

  “She couldn’t sleep,” Matt snapped. “Strange bed.”

  “Well how about a card game? I got about six hours to kill.” Coop waggled his brows.

  Damn, he was cute. A pity she felt nothing for him, at least in the romance department. But then, Matt had ruined her for any other men.

  “I…should go to bed.” She wasn’t tired, and this was a great opportunity to get to know Cooper, but she needed time to process her conversation with Matt. The interaction had befuddled her. His expressions, his muttered responses, the things that he hadn’t said, haunted her. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball under the covers, the way she’d done when she was a frightened girl, and be left alone.

  So she nodded to the men, one after the other, and escaped.

  Matt stared after Vixen LaFleur as she disappeared into her room. The woman was full of contradictions. On the one hand, she was as hard-boiled as a petrified egg, but occasionally he caught glimpses of another girl. Someone tender and sweet. And this afternoon, with her makeup, clanking jewelry and slinky outfit, he could have picked her out of a hooker lineup. Tonight… Well tonight, she’d been something else altogether.

  With her features scrubbed clean and unencumbered by war paint, her hair down and woven into a long braid draped over the shoulder of her pink Hello Kitty PJs, she could have been a teen at a slumber party.

  She’d been hard to look at tonight. She’d been far too enticing…especially with a smear of mayo on her lips. Christ, that had nearly unmanned him.

  Not that he had a thing for teenyboppers in Hello Kitty PJs… It was more than that. There had been a softness about her, a freshness, a sparkling aura the hooker side of her didn’t have.

  A man had to wonder what had happened to a woman like that to force her into such a profession. He knew it couldn’t have been an easy choice and a part of him mourned for her, for the life she might have had.

  But he was here to protect her from the enemy, not to save her from herself. And it was her life. Her choice. She seemed strong, determined and hard-edged enough to do exactly what she damn well pleased. Maybe the money was good. Who was he to judge?

  But one thing was clear. Hooker or not, she intrigued the shit out of him.

  And he wanted her. Wanted the snarky, lippy, gum-cracking woman of the world. Wanted the delicate and vulnerable little-girl-lost.

  He wanted all of her.

  It took everything in him to quash his lust.

  This was hardly the time or place for a seduction.

  The fantasy itself was a waste of energy.

  And, fuckitall, it would definitely keep him from sleeping tonight.

  And for many nights to come.

  Chapter Five

  “Well, shoot.” Ace glared at his cards and then glared at Sam. “I thought you said you’d never played poker before.”

  She held back a grin. “I didn’t say that. I think what I said was you’d have to teach me. And you are.”

  From the stove, Coop barked a laugh. “Teaching her how to win.”

  It was the sixth morning of their stay in this little slice of paradise, and while she and Ace played poker, Cooper was making pancakes—not that anyone was still hungry. Cooper just wanted more pancakes. For a country boy, he sure could pack them away. Matt was still asleep, having taken the night shift again.

  He’d been doing that a lot. To avoid spending time with her.

  At least, that was what she suspected.

  She was probably right. When they were together, he was dour and uncommunicative and ignored her and incessantly wrote in that journal. Truth be told, she preferred Ace’s and Coop’s company. At least they tried to entertain her.

  Now that she knew them better, it was hard to believe either of them was capable of betraying their brothers. With any luck, Grey was wrong and the last mission had been just a terrible tragedy of errors.

  If something were going to happen, wouldn’t it have happened already?

  “I swear to God. You’re killing me, missy,” Ace said as he pushed the pot of chips over to her side of the table. Sh
e picked one up and ate it. Because they were playing with actual chips. No one had thought to bring a poker set and they’d all agreed it was sacrilegious to use the Oreos.

  “Stop eating the pot,” Ace growled.

  She flashed him a wicked smile. “I won them. They’re mine. I can juggle them or wear them as a hat if I want.”

  “Chip hats? Sounds fancy,” Coop quipped as he brought his mountain of pancakes to the table. They were covered with melting butter and doused liberally with boysenberry syrup and suddenly, even though she’d refused his offer to make her some, she wanted a taste. So she stole his fork and cut into the stack.

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!” he crowed. “Get your own.”

  She fluttered her lashes. “Yours are better.” But she said this through a mouth of flapjack.

  “Let’s get back to the issue at hand,” Ace said with a growl. “Stop eating the poker chips.”

  Just to be contrary, she ate another. Surprisingly, it went well with the syrup. So she ate another still. “I told you. They’re mine.”

  “But I intend to win them back.”

  “Do you?” She took the deck and shuffled. And then launched into the elaborate Bend and Waterfall she’d learned on a mission in Vegas when she’d posed as a dealer. Both men gaped at her, and then exchanged dismal glances that made her smile. She leaned forward. “You sure you don’t want to play strip poker?”

  Ace clutched his t-shirt like a Regency matron having the vapors. “Egads, woman! You are a monstrosity.”

  She cocked her head and did another extravagant maneuver. “I do try.”

  When the door to the bedroom opened and Matt emerged, Ace barked, “Whatever you do, do not play poker with this woman! She’s a shark.”

  Matt shot a look at the table, at the pile of potato chips, and his lips quirked.

  Damn. He was adorable when he’d just woken up. The stubble annoyed her, but there was a sultry, slumberous look in his eyes and a pillow crease on his cheek that made him look like a boy again. He shambled to the coffee pot and hefted it. When he found it empty, he turned and glowered at them. “Really?”

  Coop grinned and took a slurp from his mug. “It was good coffee.”

  “Vixie made it,” Ace said.

  Matt’s expression soured. “Vixie?” He spat the word out as though it had pinchers.

  “She doesn’t seem like a Vixen,” Coop murmured. He shot a playful frown at her. “Though she does seem to have no compunction about stealing my food.”

  “How is it your food?” She had to speak up in her own defense. Because, seriously.

  “I made it.”

  “So? It’s not my fault you’re an excellent chef.”

  This seemed to please him. But then, compliments of any sort tended to please him. Some men were easy like that. “Am I? An excellent chef?”

  She leaned forward to pat his arm. “You absolutely are. Your creations are irresistible.” They were. So she stole another bite, this time with her fingers.

  “Stop that.” He whacked her with the fork and she laughed, sucking the syrup noisily from her thumb.

  “Why don’t all of you stop it?” Matt’s growl bounced round the room, shattering the banter.

  “Ooh.” Ace smirked. “Sleeping Beauty is cranky.”

  The growl became a snarl. “What do you expect? There’s no coffee.” He waved the empty pot. “And how am I supposed to sleep with you making so much noise?”

  “We’re just playing poker,” Ace said on a pout.

  “Make another pot,” Coop suggested.

  Judging from his expression, Matt didn’t care for either comment, but he clomped to the cupboard and riffled around for the coffee. He emerged with an empty bag. “It’s all gone.” He glared at Cooper, probably because he had the biggest mug. Or maybe because he’d put the empty bag back into the cupboard.

  Coop was utterly unaffected. He took another healthy slurp. “It can’t be all gone.”

  Matt turned the bag upside down. A dusting of grounds floated to the floor. “Gone.” He tossed the bag in the general direction of the trash can and scrubbed his face. “I need some coffee.”

  Coop grinned at him. “I guess it’s time for a trip to town. Is there anything else we need?”

  “Yeah.” Ace grinned. “More potato chips.”

  Sam shot him a simpering smile. “It won’t save you.”

  His eyes glimmered as he leaned forward. “Wench.”

  “Can we please be serious? For a minute?”

  Sam had no idea what had crawled up Matt’s butt and died, but whatever it had been, it was irking him greatly. So she sent him an angelic smile. “I could use some tampons.”

  His jaw dropped and his face paled. Then his lips worked as though he was trying to remember a prayer…or a curse. “I-I-I… Didn’t you bring your own tampons?” A squeak.

  She batted her lashes. “I thought I did, but one of you guys must have used them all.”

  He turned away and rubbed his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, “Jesus H. Motherfucking Christ.”

  “I could go for steak tonight,” Coop suggested.

  Ace’s eyes lit up. “Mmm. With a nice baked potato? Sour cream and chives.”

  “Butter,” Sam felt compelled to add. She loved sour cream and butter on her potatoes and whoever had done the shopping for this little party must have been a freaking vegan health nut—Ace had brought all the decent snacks. “Oh, and Pop-Tarts.”

  Ace gaped at her. “Do you put butter on your Pop-Tarts too?”

  She fixed him with an incredulous look. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “My God. I do believe you are a perfect woman.”

  “People!” Such a sharp bark. So savage it made the little hairs on her arms stand up. “Can we focus? Please?”

  “I am focusing,” she said. On butter. And Pop-Tarts. “Make sure you don’t get the chocolate Pop-Tarts.”

  “Right?” Ace said. “Or the strawberry.”

  Sam nodded. “Blueberry or…”

  “Cinnamon!” Ace finished for her.

  And then, of course, they high-fived.

  Which really pissed Matt off. “You’re going to get whatever the fuck I grab. And you’re not going to complain.”

  “Oh,” Sam said into her coffee mug. “We’ll probably complain.”

  Ace barked a laugh. “You know, I think I really like you, Vixie.”

  “I think I like you too, Baldie.”

  And because he was a man who appreciated a good barb, Ace chuckled.

  Matt didn’t chuckle. Not even a little. He glared at both of them and then glared at Cooper too, for good measure—but probably because Coop was just sitting there looking far too innocent…and amused. And then he turned on his heel, stormed into his room and slammed the door.

  Ace blinked. “I thought he was going into town.”

  “Hmm. I thought so too.” They shared a smile and then Sam dealt out the next hand, even though Ace hardly had any potato chips left.

  When Matt re-emerged, he was dressed. He yanked on his jacket and grabbed the keys off the hook.

  “Oh,” Coop said. “You may want to take the other car.”

  Matt rounded on him. “Why?”

  Coop shrugged. “It’s almost out of gas. It could use a fill-up.”

  “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to fill it up on the way here?”

  “We were supposed to be here first, remember?”

  “But you didn’t make it here first, did you?”

  Coop’s wide grin didn’t dilute Matt’s annoyance one iota. But thankfully Matt—and his foul mood—exited the cabin without another word.

  Unless slamming the door counted as a comment.

  It probably did, because it was pretty expressive. In as much as it shook the rafters.

  “Man.” Ace picked up his cards and snorted. “He’s a ray of freaking sunshine this morning.”

  “You can’t blame him,” Sam said. “It’s a litt
le nerve-racking to be cooped up here so long, waiting for the axe to fall.”

  Cooper’s head shot up. He stared at her. “What makes you think an axe is going to fall?”

  Shit.

  She needed to remember to stay in character. She wasn’t supposed to know how at risk they were. She softened her voice and peeped at Cooper from beneath her lashes. “Well, I am a hunted woman. It’s only natural to expect something. I mean, at some point. Don’t you think?”

  He stood and crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain, watching as Matt started the car and pulled away. Sam heard the crunch of the gravel as he left and tried not to feel so…alone.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so.” Cooper turned and leaned against the wall in a casual pose, but something about it prickled at Sam’s nape. The energy humming around him. The tightness of his usually carefree grin.

  Unease rippled through her.

  Her instincts were good. She trusted them. So she listened to them.

  And thank God she did.

  Because even as she stood to bolt to the safety of her room, Coop pulled out his SIG and put a bullet in Ace’s skull.

  It was a shock, seeing a man she liked, a man she’d counted as a friend, slump over the table with a gaping hole in the back of his head. Seeing his brains splattered over pancakes and potato chips. He hadn’t even seen it coming.

  Fortunately, she’d been trained to deal with shock, so she pushed it away, into the back of her mind, and reacted with swift, well-practiced moves, even as Cooper fired another shot. This one hit where she would have been, shattering the SAT phone charging on the counter.

  Unlike other women, who might run from a man holding a gun on her, she ran toward him, dropping into a roll as he fired, and pulling her pistol from the ankle holster concealed beneath her jeans.

  Two could play at the surprise attack game, and she hurtled into Cooper before he had a chance to process what she’d done. She knocked the gun from his hand—though he retaliated with a smack that sent her weapon skittering across the room.

  Oh. So that was how it was going to be. Hand-to-hand combat? Excellent.

  She’d been at the top of her class.

  Before he could fart, she racked him hard in the balls. He yowled and crumpled and she hit him with a couple more vicious slams to the nose and solar plexus.