Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Redemption for Misty (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Pierce Securities Book 5)

by Anne Conley

  But Chris seemed pissed on her behalf. His temple was ticking madly, and she could see his jaw flex where his teeth ground together, his eyes arctic as a glacier.

  “Really. It’s no big deal. We weren’t that into each other.” Misty was trying to reassure him, even though she didn’t understand why he was so upset.

  “What about the guy at the coffee shop?” There were tons of “guys” at the coffee shop. At her blank look, he continued, feet firmly planted on the floor, suddenly engaged and alert. Her answer was important to him, but she didn’t know who he was talking about. “The latte guy, the shy one who never looks you in the eye but hangs around watching you for thirty minutes every morning.”

  “Saul?” This time, she couldn’t contain her laughter, and Chris’s posture relaxed a little. “No. Not interested in Saul, nothing going on with Ghost, either. None of my regulars at the shop are a thing with me. There isn’t anybody in my life right now. Just friends.” Her laughter faded to a smile, and she wondered why he was so interested, but when he smiled back at her, the dimple in his cheek made her breath hitch.

  In an effort to dispel the sudden awkwardness, Misty stood and gathered her plate. “I’m going to clear off the table and leave you the dishes. Is that okay?”

  “Absolutely. That was an awesome dinner.” Chris wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood with her. “Is there any strudel left for me?”

  And with that, all the awkwardness was back. Misty remembered his eyes when he’d taken the strudel from her fingers, and she was tempted to tell him he could have it if he smeared it all over her body and then licked it off. Suppressing her shiver, she turned her back on him and the image he invoked.

  “Sure, help yourself. I’m going to go watch TV in my room.”

  She needed to get the hell out of here.

  Chapter five

  Chris was settled at the shop, working diligently on a logo for the new client he’d met the day before. It was Saturday, and they were pretty slow compared to the weekdays near the capitol building. But there was still a steady stream of tourists visiting the State Capitol building and picnicking on the lawn, stopping in for coffee before they hit the road.

  Misty had just refilled his cup, one of her hands full with two fresh cappuccinos and the coffee pot in the other. When the noise started, everyone in the coffee shop jumped, but Misty’s reaction was more severe, and Chris completely lost it.

  Pop. Pop.

  Everything slowed down for Chris. Misty’s body jerked, and she hissed loudly, as if in pain. All he could do was react. Still in slow motion, he leaped from his seat, diving toward his girl. He tackled her to the ground as she yelled in obvious pain.

  Then he was covered in hot, wet blood. He’d forgotten how hot blood was. But Misty’s blood was boiling. And she was groaning.

  “Where are you hurt?” She’d been shot. Right here in front of him. Crash was going to kick his ass. And he might as well just go home to his mom. There was no way he could forgive himself. He should have made her stay in the kitchen, where there weren’t any windows. Or home. Yeah. She’d be safe at home. His hands skated across her body, looking for wounds, but all he could feel was hot wetness. It felt like weird blood. It wasn’t sticky at all.

  “Why don’t you take her into the kitchen?” Ghost asked, a thin smile on his lips. “Those Volkswagen backfires can be brutal.”

  Chris climbed off Misty, who rolled over to expose a wet, brown torso. Coffee. He’d burned her with coffee. What he’d done hit him like a punch in the gut.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Without another word, Chris scooped her up and held her in his arms while she tried to hold her shirt away from her skin. She hadn’t been shot. Chris had burned the ever-loving shit out of her with hot coffee.

  She weighed nothing as he toted her into the kitchen, cursing apologies the entire way. “Jesus, Misty. I’m so fucking sorry. So fucking sorry.”

  “What did you think it was, Chris? Somebody blowing up the capitol?” God love her. She was joking with him while in obvious pain.

  Ghost had followed them, and he tensed at the doorway but said nothing. He was definitely an odd bird. Military, for sure—probably some special forces. Due to his secretive nature, Chris would guess the ever-elusive Delta Force, but since the Army didn’t really say much about them, he’d probably never know. But he was definitely someone on assignment. Chris was familiar with the posture, the alert intelligence, the no-nonsense attitude.

  “It sounded like a lot of stuff I heard in another life.” Chris shrugged. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it, but Misty had tears in her eyes, and they were there because of him.

  Ghost piped up. “Actually, it did sound a lot like an IED, Misty. Anybody who’s seen action would find the corollary. I think he might have been reacting to your reaction to the sound,” he mused.

  “First-aid kit?”

  She sniffed, pointing to a door on the side of the kitchen. “Yeah. I’ve got one in the storage closet.”

  Chris retrieved it from the immaculate closet—shelves upon shelves of neatly stacked and labeled boxes. He found a small bottle of salve with Aloe Vera in it and took it back to where Misty was sitting, Ghost watching closely.

  “Here. Take your shirt off. Let me see what I’ve done.”

  Ghost turned his back while Misty inhaled deeply, removing her shirt with a swift exhalation of air. Chris knew the bright red skin was tender and probably hurt like a bitch. He warmed some of the salve between his fingers and began applying it as gently as she could, ignoring the bared curves on display.

  “What made you jump like that, Misty?” Ghost asked. “It’s really none of my business, but I’ve seen jumpy people in my line of work, and you’re up there with the best of them.”

  Chris clenched his teeth together but still couldn’t stop himself from jumping to her defense. He was proud of her, the reaction notwithstanding. It would take a feat of herculean strength to not react to a car backfiring after what she’d been through.

  “She was attacked in her home and kidnapped. Held for several days. Raped. The rescue attempt involved flash bang grenades and a lot of fucking noise,” Chris gritted out through clenched teeth. He’d heard the entire story from Crash, who’d replayed what he’d learned to the platoon, who’d all gotten drunk in celebration that night. “I’d say she’s entitled to a little jumpiness.”

  Ghost’s mouth turned down into a frown. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was you personally who needed redemption.” He was referring to the name of the coffee shop, but Chris was done.

  “Dude. You can go and let me take care of my girl here.” Without another word, Ghost nodded and disappeared into the main part of the shop, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

  Chris got back to work smoothing salve over Misty’s flat belly. Her creamy olive skin was dark red where the coffee had burned it, and Chris worried it would scar. He tried to be gentle, ghosting his hands over her skin, but she hissed anyway at the contact. He tried to pretend they were doing something else, but the ugly red welts growing on her skin made that difficult. So he distracted himself with looking at the enormous butterfly marking her belly, going around her side. The ribs must have been painful. He’d heard that was a bad place to get tattoos.

  “This is beautiful,” he said to break what was quickly becoming an awkward silence.

  “Thanks. I got it after high school… to remind me to spread my wings.” Her words were hisses, reminding him yet again he was an asshole for burning her. “They’re addictive, though. I’ve got another one on my back, one around my bicep, and I have plans for more.” She smiled wryly at him. “Do you have any?”

  “No. My parents wouldn’t allow it, then the Army was real picky. I want one, though.” He wasn’t going to tell her what he wanted. She’d think he was a creep, so he bit his tongue and stayed silent, hoping she wouldn’t ask. He wanted an eagle across his chest, and could probably play it off with the patriotism thing and being
in the Army and stuff. But the truth was, the symbol of power reminded him of the woman who had all the power for him. Such a fucking sap.

  The silence grew thick between them; the only sounds were Misty’s grunts of pain and Chris’s tender blowing on the heated burns. Finally, she drew in a deep breath.

  “I wasn’t raped. I can’t believe Drew told you all that.” Her voice was soft and cradled itself in Chris’s brain like a baby bunny seeking shelter from a storm. Something inside him unfurled at the words.

  “He was upset. He needed to talk it out. I was there for him.” Upset was putting it mildly. His buddy had been in tears after finishing off his bottle of Mezcal. He’d lost all inhibitions, and instead of sticking to his macho façade, he and Chris had gone outside, where Crash unloaded all of the what-ifs and worries on him. He was so glad Misty was okay but still dying inside that he hadn’t been there to protect his little sister.

  “Thank you for being there. That couldn’t have been easy for him to go through so far away from home.”

  Chris huffed, his movements stilling. “You’re the survivor here, Misty. We rooted for you, cheered for you, and idolized you.” We loved you. He was glad she hadn’t been raped and wondered if her brother knew, or if it was something they didn’t talk about after she was safe.

  Misty faced him and put her hands on his face, freezing his thoughts. With her cool skin touching his, all thoughts of her brother fled his mind. All he noticed were her chilly palms on his cheeks. Turning his face to hers, Misty looked deep into his eyes, her chicory-colored eyes penetrating him.

  “It’s okay, Chris. All that is in my past. I won’t say I’m over it because I still have my moments…” She took a deep breath and expelled it, wafting a sugary breath across his face. “But I want to live my life without thinking about that time. Thank you so much for helping Andrew get through being away for that horrific experience. And thank you for being here now, with me.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say there was no place else he’d rather be, but she kept talking. “Now, keep smearing that cream on me. This hurts like a bitch.” She released him from the spell he was under.

  With that reminder, the guilt flowed through him again, ending up in a pool in his gut. He hated himself.

  Misty saw, and her eyes filled with concern. “Stop it. I reacted, you reacted. It could have been anyone.”

  Clearing his throat and continuing his ministrations, trying once again to ignore the smooth skin under his fingertips and focus on the burns, Chris simply mumbled, “I’m so damn sorry.”

  “Just keep smearing that stuff on and we’ll call it even.” She spoke with a smile, but as his fingers worked, she still hissed as the frigid lotion spread across her heated flesh.

  After a few minutes of his gentle rubbing, Misty took a deep breath to speak. “What did you mean? Earlier, when you called me your girl?” She spoke quietly, but not timidly. It was like they shared a secret with his answer.

  He shrugged, not willing to let her know the depths of his feelings. He couldn’t act on them. What would be the point? “Just that… you’re my responsibility. I’m supposed to be taking care of you. If Crash wanted Ghost to take care of you, he’d have asked, right?”

  Disappointed leaked into her face with the downturn of her mouth and the twitch of her eyes. But she simply said, “Right.”

  Misty didn’t say anything until they were done. She found another shirt to wear in the supply closet—a work polo with the coffee shop’s logo on it—and slipped it on. Chris felt like he’d messed up big time by not telling her the truth, and he longed for a set of balls that would enable him to just be honest with everybody.

  Chapter six

  Misty didn’t know what to do with the words Chris had spoken. She’d known her brother had a hard time with what had happened to her, but to hear about it from someone who’d been with him when it all went down was like having an out of body experience. It was like Chris was talking about someone else and not her.

  To know her brother’s entire platoon was pulling for her, admiring her for escaping the episode, was overwhelming to say the least. She didn’t know how to respond to the new information.

  And the way he had looked at her was insane. Chris had looked at her as if he was the one who had gone nuts during her kidnapping. Like he wanted to be the one to save her. Like he regretted not being there for her.

  And then when she’d given him the perfect opportunity to say something to open their relationship up to something more, he’d pulled back, essentially making her feel like she was nothing more than a favor between buddies.

  So Misty retreated. That night, at dinner, she’d told him to fend for himself, complaining of a headache. She’d said she was taking a cool bath and going to bed, ignoring the pain in his eyes. She knew he felt guilty for spilling the coffee on her, and she’d admit it hurt like hell, but there wasn’t anything to be done for it.

  She didn’t know what to do other than make his job easier on him, so she went to bed.

  The next day, Sunday, she and Mia were only open a half a day, so she got there at her usual time—the butt crack of dawn—and started the muffins. Chris rode with her, as they’d become accustomed to doing, but this time they were silent. She supposed he was taking his cues from her, not willing to talk about the elephant in the room, but she didn’t know what else to do except not talk at all.

  “You’re feeling better this morning?” His voice was a raspy squawk, and she felt bad he was feeling so guilty about burning her, but again, the elephant was keeping them from being open about things.

  “Much. I think that cream really helped. I put some more on last night.” Inane chatter. That’s what they were reduced to. It was painful.

  Sundays weren’t busy. The work crowd was gone and tourists were heading home. So when Mia got there, it was slow. Good old Mia, she brought Jordan along, who sat in the booth with Chris. She also brought her sister, who lived with them, but as she was a pouty teen, she skulked across the shop to slouch in the corner and pulled out her phone. Chris and Jordan hadn’t had many opportunities to chat, and Misty watched their body language with more than a little amusement.

  They were approximately the same size, but Jordan’s chest puffed out as he sat and introduced himself. Both men’s hands white-knuckled through the handshake, and Misty admired the cordy forearms Chris’s t-shirt showed off as he pumped his hand. Chris sat up a bit straighter, almost military-like, and Jordan imitated the pose. Then Chris’ chest puffed out while his face took on an indignant look.

  Mia whispered in her ear, apparently watching the show as well. “Jordan just put down the Army. See that?” Then she giggled as Misty turned to her friend, needing an ear to bend about her current predicament.

  “Oh God… Things are soooo aw-kward right now,” she whined, not caring that she sounded like a teenager.

  “So dish. Have y’all done anything?” Mia’s eyebrows waggled suggestively as she grabbed a coffee cup and poured herself a hazelnut brew.

  “No. Sometimes he seems like he wants to.” Misty warmed from the inside out, just thinking about the looks Chris had given her. “And then other times, he pulls away, like he’s talked himself out of it. I don’t get it. His fucking nickname’s Casanova, for Christ’s sake. A man with that name can’t be all that picky, can he? Am I just that unappealing?” She tossed down a towel she had been using to wipe the counters.

  “No. You’re not at all, so just shut up.” Mia mused a while. “He’s a friend of Andrew’s? You think he’s scared? I bet Andrew threatened him.”

  That was a thought. But Chris didn’t seem like the type to be scared of anybody. If he and Andrew were like brothers, though, maybe he felt like her brother, too? That might be a little creepy, but sometimes the way he acted around her was anything other than brotherly. Like that time with the strudel…

  So Andrew probably did threaten him. She wouldn’t put it past her brother to pull something like that. He was such a trog
lodyte.

  “I guess. That’s probably it.”

  “So you’re going to have to make a move on him if you want in those pants.” Her best friend nudged her shoulder. “You up for it?”

  Misty looked over at Chris, who had relaxed into some semblance of friendliness with Jordan and was actually smiling at whatever he’d said. “I’m totally up for it. It’s been too long since I’ve seen any action,” she muttered to herself. Watching Chris smile, she got a little lost in his dimples. Those were nice.

  His eyes flicked over to her, and his smile widened a bit. Holy. Shit.

  Yeah. It had been too long. It was time for her to up her game. Maybe she should start wearing cuter clothes, or some makeup or something.

  She shook herself. No. Misty needed to just talk to him, tell him how she felt.

  Now she just had to figure out exactly what she was feeling.

  Mia interrupted her thoughts with a nudge to her ribs. “We’re not busy. Let’s go hear his plan for the signage and that SOE stuff you were talking about.”

  “SEO,” Misty corrected.

  “Whatever. Maybe we can get y’all talking about S-E-X and you can fucking relax for once.”

  “Good Lord, Mia.”

  The most innocent of looks crossed Mia’s face. “What? We need signs. You need sex. Let’s do this.”