Privilege: Special Tactical Units Division: Book Two

by Sandra Marton

  That the queen controlled her world.

  And all that crap about not remembering him.

  She remembered him, all right, first from Camp Condor, where she’d made it clear she figured she could have handled the communications part of the operation much better than he could.

  And she certainly remembered him from the wedding, thanks to that damn kiss.

  Chay glared at his reflection in the mirror.

  He wasn’t proud of it. He’d never kissed a woman who hadn’t looked as if she’d wanted kissing before, but, dammit, by the time it happened, he’d been going crazy. Not with lust. With more unwanted, uncomfortable togetherness than one human being could handle.

  All those hours of tolerating each other. Sitting side by side at a rehearsal dinner that seemed endless. Hitting the dance floor—not slow dancing, for which he’d been almost pathetically grateful—but moving to the music together because it was expected. Smiling phony smiles for a trillion pictures, laughing phony laughs at a trillion jokes.

  Bad.

  All of it.

  He’d been counting down the minutes until he never had to see Bianca the Perfect again. She was a control freak. And like most control freaks, she was positive she knew everything.

  He’d watched the florist try to escape her; the bandleader get a panicked look each time she approached. He’d seen the caterer flinch when she eyed the wedding cake and again when she went from table to table, surreptitiously straightening forks and knives that didn’t need straightening.

  Okay. He had to admit she’d seemed polite enough in dealing with all those people, but didn’t it occur to her they knew how to do their jobs? Her every action said she was the person who should be in charge of the world, that nobody else was up to it.

  She’d dealt with him like that too.

  No. Not like that.

  Worse. She’d abandoned any pretense at politeness with him.

  Disdainful glances. Icy words. An attitude that said he was in her way. Man, she was all attitude. And by the time the party was winding down, he’d been longing to see the last of Bianca Bellini Wilde.

  That was what he’d been thinking when he and all the other guests went outside to see off the bride and groom.

  “Goodbye,” the guests shouted. “Be happy. Be well.” And some of the guys from the unit had shouted more basic things, things that made everybody laugh.

  Everybody but the Tigress, who’d been as aloof and apart as if she were alone on the crowded porch.

  The guests, the Wildes, the Bellinis had all gone back inside.

  Bianca hadn’t.

  For reasons Chay still couldn’t explain, neither had he.

  They’d exchanged a few words. Chilly, not nasty.

  And then…and then, he’d kissed her.

  Okay. Not the smartest, smoothest move he’d ever made. He certainly hadn’t had a real desire to kiss her. What man would want to kiss such a self-centered, know-it-all ice queen?

  To this day, he couldn’t come up with an answer for why he’d done it.

  Impulse was the best he could manage, just a reaction to her looking at him as if he were a lesser form of life. He wasn’t into the me Tarzan, you Jane thing, but if that was how she thought of him, so be it.

  Or maybe she’d flattened his male ego one time too many. Whatever the reason, he’d reached for her, hauled her none too gently into his arms and kissed her.

  Stupid? Of course, but no-think moments were usually stupid.

  He hadn’t even considered how she’d respond. If he had, he’d have figured she’d slug him.

  But she hadn’t.

  Yeah, she’d struggled to get free. Struggled for maybe a tenth of a second. Then, she’d made a little sound that had gone straight through him.

  And she’d melted in his arms.

  Her body had softened against his.

  Her lips had clung to his.

  She’d lifted herself to him, clasped one hand around the nape of his neck and parted her lips to the demand of his, and then it was over, it was done…

  Except…the taste and feel of her had been in his head all these months and wasn’t that a bitch that he should remember a woman, a kiss, a moment that should never have happened, and now here she was, all that same disdain, that same fire, that same lush mouth and soft body and, Jesus, he could show her that what she felt for him wasn’t disdain at all…

  A fist pounded against the door.

  It had been pounding for a while, Chay realized.

  He ran the cold water again, cupped some in his hands and rubbed it over his face. Then he yanked another length of paper towel from the dispenser, dried his hands and face, and unlocked the door.

  “Dude,” said a guy he recognized as a STUD trainee, “I’ve been knockin’ at that fucking door for an hour.”

  “A couple of minutes, maybe,” Chay said. “And remember who you are, lowlife.”

  It was standard hazing talk from an established STUD to a trainee. Still, judging by the way the guy’s eyebrows reached for his hairline, Chay figured his tone, his expression must have kicked things up a notch. He considered apologizing, couldn’t come up with a valid reason for one and, instead, punched the guy lightly in the biceps as he moved past him.

  “Good bladder training,” he said.

  The guy choked out a laugh. Chay shot him a smile, then threaded his way to the booth through the crowded bar.

  He needed another cold ale.

  Maybe he even needed some time off.

  Captain Blake, the CO at Condor, had offered him a break.

  “One, two weeks,” he’d said. “Get away from here, do something different. Might be good for you.”

  Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe it was something to consider. Maybe—

  Hell. The booth was ahead of him. And Tanner was seated in it, alone.

  “What’d I do?” Chay said, sliding into the opposite seat. “Scare off the ladies?”

  “Another pit stop.” Tanner hunched forward over the table. “I think Alessandra figured the only way to stop the war was to come up with an excuse and get her sister off the battlefield.”

  “Yeah.” Chay reached for his bottle of ale, shoved it aside instead and said, “Shit!”

  “You always were good with words, Olivieri. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to make Alessandra uncomfortable.”

  Tanner sat back. “What in hell was all that? You and my sister-in-law went at each other like a pair of street fighters.”

  Chay considered downplaying the accusation, but how could he? They had gone at each other, and he’d have to figure Tanner as a dumbass if he hadn’t recognized it.

  He sighed, sat back, and shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “Well, the thing is, we, you know, we don’t get along.”

  Tanner barked out a laugh. “Amazing. I’ve never known you to deal in understatement before.”

  The look on Chay’s face made it clear he wasn’t amused.

  “When I was COM Op for you during that San Escobal thing, she was damn near impossible.”

  “Yeah. I remember you saying she was in your space all the time.”

  “She was, to put it bluntly, a total pain in the ass.”

  “Doing what? Leaning on you because her old man’s a general? I wouldn’t have figured Bianca for that.”

  “She never mentioned him. It was her. I finally figured out that’s just the way she is.”

  “Like, what?”

  Chay folded his arms over his chest. “She’s sure she knows everything, that she’s smarter than everybody else.”

  “Yeah,” Tanner said thoughtfully. “See, here’s the thing. She really is smart. Alessandra says she graduated top of her undergrad class, and she�
��s close to getting her doctorate.”

  “Do I give a damn about her doctorate?” Chay said, glowering. “She knows as much about what we do as a mouse knows about whales, but does that stop her from trying to interfere? Hell, no. Does it stop her from trying to do a job she knows nothing about? No way. She’s got a one-track mind and the track it plays says I know how this should be done and if you don’t like it, that’s too damn…What?”

  “Oh, nothing much.” Tanner took a swig of ale. “I mean, I can’t imagine why someone like you would have a problem with any of that. You’re such an easy-to-deal-with guy, always ready to take advice, always so modest and humble and unassuming.”

  Chay glared across the table. “I am never difficult to…” His mouth twitched. “Jesus. Okay. I get it. I sound like a jerk, but, dammit, women aren’t supposed to be like that.”

  “No.” Tanner said. “Of course not. Women are supposed to be docile and sweet.”

  “Hell, Akecheta. Don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I meant.” Chay shook his head. “We’re like oil and water, you know? She rubs me the wrong way and I do the same to her.”

  “Yeah.” Tanner cleared his throat. “But, you know, speaking of rubbing… She’s a good-looking woman, dude. Did you maybe come on to her and get the door slammed in your face?”

  Chay thought about that kiss. Thought, again, about how the Tigress had reacted. He even thought about clueing Tanner in, telling him that yes, he’d made a move and she’d dissolved right into it…

  No. He wouldn’t tell that to anybody. Not to protect himself. To protect her. She was a first-class bitch, but he was an officer and a gentleman, even though he’d managed to forget both those things on the porch at El Sueño.

  “So? Did I touch on something, bro?”

  Chay managed to smile. “You know better. How could such a thing ever happen? What woman in her right mind would turn down a Chayton Olivieri move?”

  Tanner went on looking at him for a couple of seconds. Then he smiled, too, and lifted his bottle of ale in salute.

  “See what I mean? So modest. It’s one of your finest qualities.”

  “You left out brilliant,” Chay said.

  Both men laughed. They clinked their bottles of ale together, but before they could drink, a female voice interrupted them.

  “Male bonding. Such a charming thing to see.”

  The sisters stood next to the table. Alessandra was the one who’d spoken in a high, deliberately cheerful voice. Bianca stood next to her, arms folded, expression stony and unforgiving.

  So what else is new, Chay thought, but he kept smiling.

  “It’s bromance,” he said. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Of course they are,” Tanner rose to his feet. “Ladies. How about getting out of here and having dinner somewhere else? That Thai place. Olivieri? You agree?”

  Chay hesitated. Forget it, he wanted to say. You guys take off. I’m gonna stay right here.

  But this wasn’t about him. Or about the Tigress. It was about old pals getting together for a few hours. Just a few hours. He could deal with that.

  He nodded, reached for his wallet and tossed some bills on the table. Tanner reached for his wallet, too, but Chay waved him off.

  “Drinks are on me. So, how about getting some food. Sound good to you guys? Tanner?”

  Both men looked at the women. Alessandra looked at Bianca.

  “What about it?” she said softly. “You up for some dinner?”

  They all waited. At last, the Tigress inclined her head. Only that. Not a word. Not a smile. Not anything that would keep Chay’s gut from knotting. Just that one haughty gesture. The queen acceding to the request of the peasants.

  “Fine.”

  The word was clipped and the tone she used made it a lie, but Tanner went with it.

  “Great. Excellent. We’ll take my truck.”

  “No.” Chay spoke quickly. Everyone, including Bianca, looked at him. “No,” he said again with what he hoped was a smile. “If we go to the restaurant separately, you guys can go straight to your hotel afterwards. Besides, I, ah, I’m meeting Sanchez on the beach for a run in the morning. At zero dark hundred. I’ll probably want to call it a night before you do.”

  He could tell that Tanner wasn’t buying the excuse, but Tanner was his blood brother. Blood brothers stood up for each other.

  “Sure,” Tanner said. “That makes sense.”

  It did, but what happened next sure as hell didn’t.

  Tanner put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

  “Ready,” Alessandra said. “Bianca?”

  The Tigress took a breath so deep it was audible.

  “You two go ahead. I’ll ride with the lieutenant.”

  Three heads swung toward her. Three pairs of eyes focused on her face.

  “Really. I need the change.” Her smile was big and bright and, Chay knew, as phony as his had been a few seconds ago. “I’ve been riding in that truck for so long, I’m starting to think I need to buy cowboy boots.”

  “Yeah,” Tanner said, “but—”

  “Tanner?” Alessandra grabbed her husband’s arm. “Honey, I’m starving. You promised me a meal, remember?”

  Her smile was as artificial as Bianca’s.

  Tanner shot Chay a What in hell’s going on? look. Chay shot the same look right back at him.

  “Lieutenant?” Bianca said. “Is that okay with you?”

  What could he do except nod his head in agreement?

  “Well,” Tanner said, “if everybody’s cool with the arrangements—”

  “For heaven’s sake,” Alessandra hissed. She flashed another smile, slid her hand into her husband’s and all but dragged him toward the door.

  Chay waited until they were out of sight. Then he turned towards Bianca.

  “Kind of sudden,” he said, because why pull any punches now that they were alone? “Your change of heart.”

  “I haven’t had a change of heart. Not about you, Lieutenant.”

  “Then why ride with me instead of Tanner and your sister?”

  “We were making them uncomfortable.”

  Chay folded his arms over his chest. “Isn’t that a specialty of yours? Making people uncomfortable?”

  Color stained her cheeks. “That’s quite a statement from a man who went out of his way to make me uncomfortable just a few minutes ago.”

  “What are you talking about? I never…” The comment he’d made about knowing a way to remind her of the last time they’d met danced in his head. “Oh. That.”

  “Yes. That.”

  “Yeah, well, you can only push me so far.”

  “I pushed you?”

  “Oh, I remember you now,” Chay said in a high, mincing voice. “You were the gofer who brought us sandwiches.”

  The color in her face deepened. “I never called you a gofer.”

  “And the waitress… I’m only surprised you didn’t get up and show her how to serve our drinks.”

  “Unbelievable! This is what I get for trying to pour salt on troubled waters.”

  “It’s oil. Oil on troubled waters. The salt thing is about what you never want to pour on open wounds.”

  Bianca threw out her hands. “Chi se ne frega! Who cares? I am trying to make a point here.”

  “Which is?”

  She drew another deep breath. The action drew her breasts up tight against the shirt she was wearing.

  He hadn’t really noticed what she was wearing before.

  He did now.

  The shirt was an indeterminate shade of brown, somewhere between what he figured women called beige and tan. The short sleeves did justice to her arms, which were trim.

  Everything about her was trim.

  Nice brea
sts. Slender waist. Gently rounded hips.

  He couldn’t see her legs, because she had on pants the same color as the top. There was no way to judge whether her legs were as trim as the rest of her, but though the gown she’d worn at the wedding had been floor length, she’d lifted the skirt when she’d stalked back into the house and the glimpse he’d had of her ankles had been okay.

  Better than okay.

  It had made him want to see more.

  He remembered the color of that gown, too. Purple. No. Pink. Not pink either. He had no idea what the color was, but it had been great for her, the perfect foil for her golden hair…

  Jesus.

  Who gave a damn about her looks? Okay. She was easy on the eyes despite the way she dressed. Even the shoes. If the brunette who’d been hitting on him had on spike heels, what would you call these? Not flats. They were kind of wedged. From head to toe, she was dressed the way she probably dressed for the office. Nothing that would draw a man’s eye. Even her hair. She wore it drawn back into a low ponytail, something a woman with silky-looking, soft-looking long waves of golden hair should never do.

  None of those things changed the fact that the lady was what you’d get if you crossed Marie Antoinette with a wolverine.

  The thought made him laugh.

  Her chin lifted.

  “What,” she said coldly, “do you find so amusing, Lieutenant?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” He sighed. “Actually, I was thinking that you’re right.”

  She blinked. “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right about what?”

  “About us making Tanner and his wife uncomfortable.”

  He could almost see a little of her defiance slipping away.

  “Tanner’s my best friend. I might not see him again for months. And Alessandra is your sister.”

  She gave a stiff little nod.

  “Exactly. And we live thousands of miles apart, me in New York, she in North Dakota.”

  “South Dakota.”

  “Whatever,” she said with a touch of her usual impatience. “The point is, it’s far away. It is why I agreed to fly to Texas and meet them there so we could spend time with our family, and then to drive back to South Dakota with them and see their ranch.”