Bad Boy Christmas: Box Set

by Cheyenne McCray

  Around the building were the two sets of thick-linked fences with rolls of barbed wire along the inner and outer ten-foot high fencing. At each corner of fencing that formed a square around the compound were tall metal outposts, each with two armed sentries.

  “In thirty,” came Casper’s low, casual drawl. Anyone who knew him would have no idea that he was about to wreak havoc on the compound big time.

  Janie shielded her eyes with her hand and slowly counted down the seconds. At the exact moment she ticked off thirty in her mind, an explosion rocked the compound.

  The entire compound went dark.

  The roiling ball of fire shooting toward the sky as sparks jetted from the flames provided enough light to see the sudden pandemonium in the compound. Black smoke boiled from the ground along with the flames. The IED that had just taken out the compound’s main generator had obviously done its job.

  Cries and screams echoed in the jungle, coming from the direction of the compound. Men shouted out orders in Spanish while others reacted with cries of chaos.

  Another explosion blasted the night. More flames shot up to the sky, the sound so loud she wanted to put her hands to her ears. Instead, she maintained position, her heart pumping blood as if the fire had turned to liquid in her veins. She forced herself to breathe as she waited for Brick to give the order to the men to move in.

  Janie blinked in surprise when the compound’s lights flickered—and came back on. Dimmer, but they were working.

  She frowned. The second explosion should have taken out the backup generators.

  Now, in the light provided by a third set of backup generators, it was easy to see men rushing to surround the perimeter of the fence, their rifles pointed toward the jungle.

  Damn. The team’s main advantage was totally gone if they couldn’t take out the lights.

  “Hold on tight, kids,” came Casper’s drawl inside her ear, through the comm. “You might want to cover your ears and close your eyes.”

  Janie barely had time to lower her rifle to obey before light scorched the night, lightning-bright even through her closed eyelids. Thunder from the third explosion sounded as though her hands weren’t even muffling her ears.

  “Good to go,” Casper said in his usual casual voice.

  Janie’s ears rang as she opened her eyes to see the compound was dark again, with the exception of more light from flames shooting toward the sky in the compound’s huge jungle clearing.

  She pulled her night vision goggles down, careful to avoid looking at the flames and gripped her rifle tight again.

  “Synchronize.” Brick’s powerful voice was strong over her earpiece.

  Boy was he going to be pissed when she came out of the jungle with the rest of them. He was too professional to let it distract him, so she wasn’t worried about diverting his attention from the mission.

  She glanced from the darkened but chaotic compound to her watch as he continued his countdown in a slow, measured tone, “Five…four…three…two…one.”

  Janie clenched her jaw as she brought up her rifle. At the same time she pushed herself to her feet and bolted for the compound.

  * * *

  Rage flowed through Brick as he charged forward. He focused through his night vision goggles as he squeezed the trigger of the M-4 rifle while he took out as many of Chavez’s men as possible.

  That sonofabitch, Chavez’s right hand man, was going to die for what he’d done. For daring to kidnap Brandon to draw Brick out for Flynn’s own form of retribution.

  When Brick got too close to the compound for the M-4 to be effective, he slung the rifle over his shoulder. At the same time he drew his Glock.

  Spit Andersen shot out of the jungle on Brick’s left. He felt no surprise as Janie drew up on his right. The depth of his feelings for her, feelings he’d refused to acknowledge, were shoved even deeper aside. Now was not the time to be thinking of Janie in that way—in any way but as a valuable member of the team.

  He tried to be pissed that she hadn’t obeyed him. Truth was she’d be an asset tonight whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  Brick didn’t have to look at Spit to know he was leveling a large grenade launcher at the double fences.

  The hollow thumping sound of the launcher was nearly lost in the compound’s chaos.

  With the next explosion, Brick squeezed his eyes shut for a mere second to avoid the glare in his goggles. He didn’t stop running. He blinked and had the satisfaction of seeing the gaping holes now through both fences thanks to the grenade launcher.

  Brick gripped his Glock in both hands as he fired at two more of Chavez’s men. Since Janie was there, he knew that his back was covered as he ran through the gaping wounds in the fence straight toward the main house. He’d rarely seen anyone who could shoot as well as she could. Spit, also a superior marksman nearly as accurate as Janie, would keep things clear behind them.

  Adrenaline surged through Brick and his insides felt as if his entire being was strung tight. He and his teammates fought their way through the darkness, the night-vision goggles giving them a big advantage.

  When they reached the main house, Brick headed straight for his target. Sure as hell, he knew he’d caught a couple of glimpses of Brandon through the window during the torturous days of recon.

  Brick had wanted to rescue his nephew every time the team surveyed the compound. He knew better than to rush things and risk getting the kid killed. After their last day of recon and run-through of each and every drill, Brick had been satisfied they’d recover Brandon.

  Once his nephew was safe, Brick would find that bastard, Mark Flynn. Brick would make sure Flynn never fucked with Brick’s or anyone else’s family again.

  One of Chavez’s men rounded the corner of the house, his sites leveled on Brick. In the next instant Chavez’s man crumpled to the ground when Janie put a bullet into his head.

  When they reached their target destination, Brick pushed up his night vision goggles on top of his head. With fire still consuming some of the outbuildings, he could see well enough as he focused on the small barred window. Flames reflected on the glass making it difficult to see inside.

  Janie and Spit stood with their backs to him, covering him from all sides. Regardless of the ear-splitting chaos of the night, he identified every report of their weapons.

  It took some effort to keep from worrying that something would happen to Janie. He had to acknowledge that she was just as competent, tough, intelligent, and capable as his other teammates.

  Brick stuffed his Glock in its holster and unslung his rifle from his shoulder. He still couldn’t see inside. Damn. He wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt the kid.

  He got as close to the window as he could and shouted, “Stand back,” hoping he could be heard. Or at least be seen.

  After retreating a step, Brick gripped the rifle, raised it, and through a pair of bars slammed the butt into the window’s glass. The glass shattered—not bulletproof, thank God.

  “Brandon!” he shouted through the bars, hoping to hell his nephew was in here. “It’s John.”

  “Uncle John?” came the boy’s voice and relief poured through Brick. Brandon’s terrified face came into view. He sounded even more scared than he looked as he added in a stutter, “What—I can’t believe—”

  Brick shot a quick glance over his shoulder before looking back at Brandon. “Are you alone?”

  Brandon nodded. “Yes.”

  Brick searched the room with one sweep of his gaze and spotted a bed. “Get under the bed,” Brick ordered his nephew. “Have to blow these bars and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  Brandon didn’t hesitate. He ran to a far corner of the room, dropped to the floor, and vanished beneath the bed as Brick took a small, but always effective explosive device from his belt. Unlike an IED, this device was far more accurate and controlled.

  Brick didn’t bother to look over his shoulder again to see what was happening behind him. Janie and Spit were taking car
e of business.

  “Down!” Brick shouted at the pair as he set the explosive on the windowsill and pressed the button that had a mere three-second delay.

  He was a good ten feet from the house and dropped onto one knee, turning his head slightly away as the explosive blew. Then he whirled to face the window. Through remnants of smoke he saw the bars were history and the former window was nothing but a gaping hole.

  Brick swung his gaze to look around them. More of Chavez’s men were to be contended with, but Janie and Spit had Brick and Brandon covered.

  Brick rushed back to the house. “Get out, Brandon,” he shouted into the room when he reached it.

  The boy scrambled from under the bed and ran for the window. He jumped out so fast that his weight slammed into Brick, causing him to take a step back despite being three times the size of the boy.

  Brick released the boy. No time for even a small reunion. “Stay close to me and as low as possible. We’re going to get you out of here.”

  Brandon gave a short nod and his features now gave a show of bravado that Brick knew was for him. “Yes, sir,” he said at the same time he crouched low beside Brick.

  Sweat rolled down Brick’s face from the heat of the flames and his T-shirt clung to his skin beneath his body armor as they shot any of Chavez’s men who came into sight. Brick’s heart pounded as he aimed the handgun and pulled the trigger time after time.

  Once they made it through the gaping holes in the two fences, Janie, Spit, and Brandon sprinted beside him across a barren clearing, toward the jungle.

  Just before they reached cover Spit shouted and dropped. Janie came up short, like she was going to go after Spit.

  “Take the boy. Head for cover.” Brick gave Brandon a slight shove toward Janie. “I’m going after Spit.”

  Janie’s nod was sharp, her expression grim. The boy didn’t pause as he dashed to the jungle beside her.

  Brick ran to Spit who was motionless on the ground. He put his fingers to Spit’s neck and felt the man’s strong pulse. Out cold, but alive.

  Shots speared the night as Brick grabbed Spit under his arms. The bullets were close, way too close as Brick dragged the SEAL into the cover of the jungle.

  When they were hidden by thick foliage, Brick shoved up his night-vision goggles. By the light of the flames, he saw Spit wake and grimace, but the man didn’t make a sound.

  Through the cover, Brick caught glimpses of Chavez’s men at the compound. Looked like they’d organized what remained of their ranks and were about to head into the jungle.

  “Get the hell out of here,” Brick said over his comm. “Chavez’s men are headed our way.”

  Thank God all of his team responded in the affirmative, including Janie. Meant no one was down but Spit.

  “Where are you hit?” Brick asked his teammate and friend.

  “I’ll live.” Spit sucked in his breath. “Took one in my thigh, I think close to bone.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Bullet got me in the back, too, dead center in my armor. Knocked the breath out of me but that’s it.”

  Brick ripped strips of his T-shirt off and hurried to tie a tourniquet around Spit’s thigh and the blood-soaked fatigues.

  “We need to get our asses back to base.” Brick jerked Spit to his feet. “Thunder and Casper should make it before we do with you holding us up.”

  “No fucking kidding.” Spit had already turned and made his way through the jungle, barely limping despite the wound. Tough sonofabitch.

  Shouts came closer and a bullet zinged and buried itself in a rubber tree next to Brick’s head.

  “The kid with you, Taylor?” Brick said to Janie over his comm while he busted through the foliage, away from the compound.

  “Yes,” she said over the earpiece to the sound of gunfire, her breathing sounding a little rough. “We’re sure not hanging around.”

  Brick kept up with Spit and covered their backsides as they headed back to base.

  * * *

  “Thank you, Uncle John.” Brandon crouched by the fire, early morning light showing the dust and ash on his cheeks. His focus was entirely on his uncle.

  Brick sat on a rock near the campfire. They were at a different location this time, much farther away from what remained of Chavez’s compound.

  He ran his palm down his stubbled face before looking at Brandon and shaking his head. “I’m the one who got you into this mess. You don’t owe me one single word of thanks.” He nodded toward each team member lounging around the campfire, including Janie. “The team deserves mine.”

  Thunder, Spit, and Casper each shrugged or gave Brick a casual “it’s no big deal” look.

  “You would’ve done it for any one of us,” Thunder said in his rough voice. He pushed himself away from the palm tree he’d been leaning against. “So don’t start that gratitude shit.”

  “Now you can get the kid home in time for Christmas,” Thunder said, clearly trying to change the subject.

  “I can’t wait to see Mom and Dad.” Brandon lit up then looked sheepish. “I was a real jerk though, before I got taken. I hope they’re not still mad at me.”

  Brick shook his head. “Your parents have been worried as hell. They’re going to be damned glad to have you home, and proud of you for how well you handled everything, too.”

  As the other men started talking with Brandon, Brick turned to look at Janie. He wondered if she’d ever forgive him.

  Janie swallowed. Brick studied her with green eyes that looked both tired and irritated. She was still rather pleased that she’d given him an excellent black eye.

  He got to his feet, his torn black T-shirt exposing the flat of the tanned skin of his abs. He focused his gaze on her. “Come on,” he said as he turned his back on her and started walking into the jungle.

  A slow burn traveled through her body, heating her face and causing her scalp to prickle. She was so tempted to ignore the big ass, but she had to face him sooner or later and she never was one to procrastinate.

  “Sure.” Janie tried to keep her tone and her expression cool as she got up from the rock she’d been sitting on. She dusted sand from her backside, as if that would do any good considering they were camped out on a beach.

  By the looks on the faces of the other black ops team members, they knew Brick was pissed and intended to let her know it. Janie swallowed and followed him into the dimness of the jungle.

  As they made their way deeper into the foliage, the potency of his presence seemed to envelop her and she could almost feel him inside of her.

  Idiot. She wanted to bang her head against a coconut tree—maybe a coconut would land on her head and knock sense back into her.

  She had no idea why he was going so deep. All he needed to do was get her out of earshot of the campsite.

  When they were a good hundred yards from the campsite, Brick turned to face her. He looked down at her, his arrogant features grim and unyielding.

  Janie raised her hands before he could speak and imagined herself wringing his neck. “I’m there every step of the way with this team no matter what the mission is.”

  He stood in front of her, like a battleship anchored in stormy seas. His features flickered with an expression she hadn’t seen on him before—and she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

  She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, wanting to clock him. Again.

  Then his features softened, just slightly, but she’d never seen him look anything less than hard. He dragged his hand down his face and she felt confusion on her own features as he met her gaze.

  “I—” Brick cleared his throat, but kept his eyes locked on her, “owe you an apology.”

  Janie blinked. Then she blinked again. Brick was apologizing? “For not letting me on the team,” she stated.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I was wrong to leave you off the team but I had my reasons. But that’s not what I’m apologizing for.”

  Before she could comprehend what this big man was saying, he
continued, “I was an asshole for what I said to you when we—” He cut off his sentence like he didn’t know how to finish it. “I was worse than an asshole.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “That’s never been in question.”

  He approached her and she stood her ground, even when he raised his hands and gripped her shoulders. Warmth traveled from his palms throughout her body.

  His jaw tightened. “The reason I said what I did is the same reason I didn’t want you to go on this mission.”

  Her confusion grew. “I’m not following this conversation.”

  “I care too much about you, Janie.” Brick’s grip on her shoulders increased. “I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. The mission was too dangerous and I couldn’t handle living without you.”

  Janie felt like she’d just fallen into quicksand and it was sucking her in, fast. She’d been an undercover operative for twelve years and on this team for six months. Nothing on earth could have prepared her for what Brick was telling her.

  “I thought that maybe if I—if I had you—that it would make these feelings go away.” He started moving his hands up and down her upper arms.

  She was still speechless.

  “Shit.” He released her arms and dragged his hand down his face again. “I know I fucked that up with how I treated you and with trying to keep you off the op.”

  Warmth grew within Janie’s chest and the weighted feeling that had been in her body grew light, pleasant. He locked his eyes with hers again.

  She started to smile, started to tell him what was inside her heart when she saw an expression of anger cross his features.

  The too-familiar click of a handgun sent harsh tingles down her spine.

  “Nice,” came an unfamiliar voice from the foliage behind Brick. “Brick Sanders has yet another Achilles heel.”

  Brick’s scalp prickled and a sudden rush of adrenaline sent his pulse racing.