by Paige Tyler
Todd separated them into two groups, one on either end of the log. Landon and Ivy were on the same side, along with Buchanan. Damn. He’d been hoping to square off against the shifter.
“You spar until one person ends up in the pit,” Todd announced. “Standard rules—no face shots, no nut taps.”
Beside Landon, Ivy rolled her eyes. “Leave it to a man to come up with that silly rule. Concussions are fine, but please don’t hit me in the balls. You’d think it was the only important part on a man’s whole body.”
Todd gave her a stern look. “I’m serious this time, Ivy. No more of your oops, my bad.”
She held up her hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll be good. Promise.”
The first two combatants grabbed the pugil sticks and carefully moved toward each other, which was difficult to do on something the size of a balance beam. Todd waited for them to get their balance, then blew the whistle.
Both men were intent on taking out their opponent with one hit—not something you could easily do while balanced on a log. They got in a few good pops, but after a few swings—and misses—they both ended up in the pit, victims of their own aggression.
The next matchups were more of the same. There was some strategy, but mostly it was all brute force. Landon cheered along with everyone else. It might be ugly to watch, but it was entertaining.
Landon was next. As he hopped onto the log, a blond-haired man did the same. Before his opponent could step forward, however, Buchanan hopped into the pit and stalked over to the man. The shifter climbed onto the log and yanked the pugil stick out of the guy’s hand.
“What the hell?”
Buchanan threw him a glare. “It’s my turn.”
The man wanted to argue, but then shrugged, muttered something that sounded like “whatever,” and walked over to take the empty spot Buchanan had left.
Landon met the shifter’s cold eyes. You want to fight, asshole? Fine with me.
Todd blew the whistle.
Buchanan attacked immediately, leading with a vicious overhand swing. Landon jerked his stick up just in time to block the blow—and keep the shifter from taking off his head. The son of a bitch was using the bare part of the stick instead of the padded end.
You want to play dirty? I can do that, too.
Landon aimed a vicious shot at Buchanan’s left hand and heard a satisfying crunch. The shifter didn’t react to the pain. Instead, he smiled. That’s when Landon noticed Buchanan’s canines were longer than before. And that his eyes weren’t their usual brown, but gleaming yellow.
***
Ivy knew the sparring match wasn’t going to end well the moment Clayne climbed up on the log. She hadn’t thought the idiot would shift, though.
Crap.
She couldn’t believe Clayne was going to beat the hell out of Landon—or try to—simply because she wouldn’t give him the time of day. It was childish and stupid.
She darted a quick glance at Kendra, who looked as nervous as Ivy was. Todd and the other training officers, on the other hand, were practically salivating at the matchup. What the hell was wrong with them? Anyone watching could see this wasn’t going to be a simple sparring match. Both men looked ready to cause some serious damage.
Clayne growled low in his throat as he swung his pugil stick again and again. Landon followed every block with a counterstrike, going after Clayne as ferociously as Clayne went after him.
“Hey!” Todd shouted after an especially savage hit from Clayne. “Take it easy.”
When Landon and Clayne ignored him, he blew his whistle. Like that was supposed to stop them. Neither one was following standard sparring rules. What the heck made Todd think they were going to pay attention to a whistle? This fight would only end one way—with someone going to the hospital. If they were lucky.
Unless she stopped it first.
Ivy took a deep breath and extended her claws, ready to jump into the fray, when Clayne abruptly tossed his pugil stick aside and launched at Landon with a deep, rumbling growl. They hit the pit in a twisting heap, fists and claws flying everywhere. Todd blew his whistle again, yelling for them to break it up as Clayne raked his claws across Landon’s chest. Ivy’s heart seized as the scent of blood filled her nose.
Landon didn’t flinch. Instead, he swung his fist, hitting Clayne in the side of the head hard enough to knock him senseless. While Clayne was still reeling, Landon shoved him onto his back and climbed on top, cocking his fist back for another punch.
Ivy dove into the pit, latching on to Landon’s arm with all her strength. Beneath him, Clayne lunged, canines flashing as he went for Landon’s throat. Ivy instinctively moved to put herself between them when someone landed hard on Clayne’s chest, knocking him back. It took Ivy a moment to figure out who it was and when she did, she blinked, staring at Kendra in astonishment. There were nearly two dozen men standing around, but the only one willing to help was another woman.
The guys must have realized how that made them look because Kendra’s interference was finally the signal to get their asses off the sidelines and separate Landon and Clayne, who were still trying to get at one another. It took some hard work, but with the men’s aid, Ivy and Kendra managed to drag them away from each other. Then it became a war of words, complete with a lot of cussing, name calling, and growling.
“Calm the fuck down!” Todd ordered. “Both of you!”
Clayne bared his teeth at the training officer. Todd rounded on him. “You better get it under control, Buchanan, or I’ll have you thrown in lockup and hosed down.”
Landon let out a self-satisfied snort. “Serves you right, asshole.”
Todd turned his glower on Landon. “And don’t think for a minute I believe this was entirely Buchanan’s fault, Donovan. You’re just as much to blame. Unless you want to get locked up in a detention cell for a day or two alongside him, cool your jets.”
Landon’s jaw worked, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Ivy let out the breath she’d been holding.
Todd looked from one man to the other. “You’re both in anger management for the rest of the week.” He glanced at the men restraining Clayne. “Take him to the clinic to get checked out and make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. And send a medic down here to look at these scratches on Donovan.”
Clayne sent one more low growl Landon’s way, but allowed the men to escort him out of the training area. Kendra left with him, but not before giving Ivy an exasperated look. She turned to find Landon scowling at her.
“What the hell were you doing, getting between Buchanan and me?” he demanded. “He could have ripped out your throat.”
A simple thank-you would have been nice. “I was trying to stop you two from killing each other. What was that about?”
His jaw tightened. “I reckon that was Buchanan’s way of saying he doesn’t think much of me being your partner.”
“Yeah, that much is obvious.” She didn’t even want to think of how Clayne would have reacted if he knew about the kiss in Venezuela. “What I want to know is why you were spoiling for the fight.”
Landon stopped examining the scratches on his chest to scowl at her. “What are you talking about? I was only defending myself.”
Right. Ivy wasn’t naïve enough to think this was a case of boys being boys. Clayne had tried to lay claim to her, and Landon had told him what the shifter could do with that notion.
Ivy shook her head and moved Landon’s hand out of the way so she could get a look at the damage Clayne had done. She lifted Landon’s shirt, trying to ignore the way his chiseled muscles flexed as she ran her fingers over the scratches. They weren’t as deep as she’d feared, but Clayne’s ragged claws would probably leave a few scars.
“Damn him,” she muttered.
“What the hell kind of shifter is Buchanan anyway, a Tasmanian devil?”
She couldn’t stop her
lips from twitching. “Just your plain, garden-variety timber wolf.”
Landon snorted. “More like a freakin’ werewolf.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not.” Ivy flashed him a grin. “Then I’d have to worry about you turning into one and we’d have to deal with the whole cats and dogs thing.”
Ivy didn’t want to even think of the animal attraction there’d be between them then.
***
After two straight days of anger management classes, Landon wanted to punch somebody. He’d come close when Coleman, who’d been there the first day, made some snide comment about Landon being at the DCO to help keep the “animals” in line, not become one himself. Not to defend Buchanan, but Ivy. Because he knew Coleman had included her in that remark just to get a rise out of him. He hated that man.
The only thing that made sitting in an uncomfortable stuffed chair opposite Marlon the shrink bearable was knowing the big, hulking, paranormal asshole Buchanan was being forced to go through the same torture.
“Does that idiot doctor even realize he works for an organization that kills people and blows things up on a regular basis?” Landon glanced at Ivy as he shoved clothes in his duffel. She’d already been packed and waiting for him when he got back to their room, and was now leaning against the doorframe. “He actually told me it was okay to get mad at people, but it wasn’t okay to yell at them, call them names, or—heaven forbid—hit them. Forget Buchanan and I were in combative training using pugil sticks on each other when the fight started. Or that the rabid wolf attacked me first. He gave me a placating smile and told me if I resort to violence, I’m no better than the other person.”
“What’d you say?”
He zipped his bag. “That turning your back on an enraged werewolf had to be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”
Ivy’s lips curved. “I’m with you on that. How’d that go over with Marlon?”
Landon opened his mouth to answer, but his cell phone cut him off. He swore as he dug in the pocket of his jeans. If it was Todd saying he needed another session with Doctor Doofus, he was going to throw the phone through a wall.
He didn’t bother to look at the call display. “What?”
“Whoa. Someone got up on the wrong side of the sleeping bag this morning. Hello to you, too, dude.”
“Angelo, how the hell are you, man? You back from deployment?” Landon grinned. It was good to hear that voice.
“We got in a couple days ago. With both you and LT gone, the battalion considered us nonoperational and sent us home.”
“Everyone?”
“Roger that. We’re all in one piece.”
Landon breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.”
“So, what the hell’d you do, sleep with some general’s daughter and get demoted to pushing papers at the Pentagon?”
Landon chuckled. “Nah. Believe it or not, I got transferred to the Department of Homeland Security. Or at least an organization within it.”
“No shit. Well, damn. We’re thinking of going up to DC this weekend. You want to grab a beer with the guys and me?”
“I don’t want you guys burning up your leave on me.”
“It’s a few days. And we were heading up there to see LT anyway. Besides, Diaz grew up in the DC area and says there are some sweet clubs up there.”
Landon shook his head. Diaz. Should have known. “Since you’re coming up anyway, why the hell not? When do you want to get together?”
“How about tomorrow night around 2000 hours at this place called DC Scandals?”
Landon cupped the phone with his hand and looked at Ivy. “You ever heard of DC Scandals?”
She nodded. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. I know where it is, though.”
“Who are you talking to?” Angelo asked.
“My partner.”
“Invite him along so we can meet him.”
Landon’s mouth twitched. “He’s a she.”
Angelo made a sound that was a half laugh, half snort. “Well, then definitely invite her.”
Landon hesitated. After the kiss, they’d both agreed to keep things purely professional, and going to a place with a name like DC Scandals screamed anything but professional. It wasn’t as if they were going alone, though. If he knew his team, they’d all be there.
He cupped his hand over the phone again. “Some of the guys from my old team are coming up this weekend. You want to go out for a drink with us?”
Her lips curved. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”
There was no good reason why her answer made him want to pump the air with his fist, but it did. He resisted the urge—barely—and told Angelo they’d both be there.
***
At the risk of making it sound like a date, Landon offered to pick Ivy up, but she said she needed more time to get ready and would meet him at the club. Finding Angelo and the guys wasn’t difficult. They’d clearly picked two tables where they could easily scope out the door, and shoved them together. They waved him over the minute he walked in. Angelo and Diaz were there, along with Marks, Deray, Griffen, Tredeau, and Mickens. Almost his entire team. It was good to see them.
“The rest of the guys would have come, but the battalion didn’t want the whole team on block leave at the same time.” Angelo caught the waitress’s eye and gestured for another round of beers. “So, tell us about this Homeland Security gig.”
Griffen finished what was left of his beer in one swallow. The guy had to have gills hiding somewhere. “We spent the whole drive up here speculating.”
Landon was about to say he couldn’t tell them very much, but the waitress appeared with the round of beers Angelo ordered. She gave Landon and the rest of the guys a smile, her gaze lingering on Deray as she reminded them they knew where to find her if they needed anything. The dark-haired engineer gave her a wink.
“Okay, spill,” Angelo said when she left.
Landon took a swig of beer. “Not much to tell. I work for an organization that’s under the Department of Homeland Security.”
Tredeau grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bowl in the center of the table. “What kind of work are you doing?”
“Can’t really talk about it.” Which bothered the hell out of him since these guys were like family. “All I can say is that it’s closer to CIA shit than Special Forces work.”
Deray leaned forward, one hand on his beer bottle. “Tex-Mex said you have a female partner? What’s that like?”
Landon chuckled. “It took a little while to get used to, but outside of you guys, there’s no one I’d want covering my ass more than Ivy.”
“Where is she, by the way?” Angelo ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair as he glanced at the door. “You said she was coming.”
“She’ll be here in a bit. Enough about me. What happened with you guys after I left?”
He wanted to change the subject. He’d been caught off guard by Ivy the first time he’d met her. No reason Angelo and the other guys shouldn’t be, too. Besides, he’d driven himself crazy for weeks now wondering what happened to his team.
“We went back to Qari’s place with Bennett. Used a BLU-129 to take out the tango, then went in and collected up all the intel we could.” Angelo snorted. “Battalion wanted to temporarily dissolve the team to fill shortages in the other A-teams, but Johnson wouldn’t put up with that shit. He made such a fuss they shipped us back the next day.”
Landon should have known Master Sergeant Johnson would take care of the guys. Johnson could get away with damn near anything.
“Whoa,” Angelo breathed, his dark eyes going to the door. “Hot babe at two o’clock.”
Landon turned to see Ivy sauntering in. His mouth fell open. He’d seen her in everything from the black DCO uniform to a tank top and pair of panties, and thought she looked sexy as
hell in all of it, but tonight, hot babe was the only way to describe her. In a short, sleeveless dress with makeup accentuating her exotic, dark eyes and her long, usually straight hair hanging down her back in soft waves, she was perfection on a pair of high heels.
He got her attention and waved her over, then glanced at his friends. “That’s Ivy.”
Someone at the table—make that a few of them—choked on their beer.
“That’s your partner?” Deray asked. “Do they have any more openings in this organization? If they do, I’m requesting a transfer the minute we get back to Campbell.”
“I’ll just skip the transfer and go straight to the third date, thank you very much,” Diaz said.
Landon chuckled. “Careful, boys. She can rip out your guts in a heartbeat.”
“It’d be worth it,” Mickens said.
Landon wasn’t sure if he was jealous or proud. Probably a bit of both. And because he knew he could trust his teammates not to mess with his partner, he’d concentrate on being more proud than jealous.
He made the introductions, starting with Diaz and finishing with Angelo, who grinned and told Ivy she wouldn’t be paying for anything she ordered from the bar.
“The guys and I have you covered.”
They also regaled her with every embarrassing story they had about Landon—and there were a lot. When they launched into the one about the time their operating base had been attacked in the middle of Landon’s weekly shower and he’d run out wearing nothing but a flak jacket and a pair of combat boots while carrying his M4, he decided things were getting a bit too personal.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s the end of the stories. That’s an order.”
Ivy laughed. “But I want to hear what happened.”
Landon liked the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. He chuckled. “I fired my weapon until I was out of bullets. End of story.”
In the back corner of the club, the DJ put on a song with a dance beat. It sounded like Justin Timberlake. At least Landon thought it did—with back-to-back deployments he hadn’t really kept up with who sang what.
