“Excellent points. Haha, points. It’s a pun.”
“I’d kill you if you weren’t so hot and you weren’t presently teaching me to kill other people,” I snap.
He wiggles an eyebrow. “Hot, huh?”
“You have moments,” I say. “I can’t save myself with a pen.”
He opens a small silver case and places the basic pen inside before removing a fancier one. “These are tactical pen. There are a couple of these babies in this case with your standard pens.”
My brow furrows. “What are tactical pens?”
“A weapon and a pen.” He shows me the writing end. “It writes, not as well as you might like, but it writes. The opposite side is your real weapon.” He flips it over. “This is metal, with stamped grip grooves, and the hard tip is designed to penetrate and cause pain. It’s also intended to not just puncture but incapacitate. As a bonus, it’s capable of breaking glass should you need to get through a window. Keep one of these on your person in random places, at all times; a sock, your bra, your waistband, your pocket. Behind your ear.” He catches my hand and walks me around the table to stand in front of him. “The pen doesn’t have a blade and you need to use it at close proximity to do damage but slicing motions have an impact.” He pulls me around and in front of him, pressing the pen into my hand and then showing me his version of slicing. “The head is a good target.” He releases me. “You need to practice here, now, with me. And remember. You won’t look menacing with a pen. That works for you. That’s going to take an enemy off guard. Now. Let’s talk about pressure point targets and why they matter.”
We cover tons of material and practice for what feels like forever. Once we’ve set aside the tactical pen, we move on to a small folding knife. “I don’t like the idea of you using something that can be taken from you and used against you,” he says. “But the knife has its uses.” We cover how and why to pull the blade before we move on to mace, which I already carry. He, however, has a unique perspective on how and why to use mace. “Not everyone is sensitive,” he says. “And the victim of its use will recover. Use it and then the pen in the eye.”
Once we move to artillery, it’s all about loading, handling, targeting, hand position. We practice maneuvers, weapon draws, and more. By the time we start firing, I’m feeling exhausted but determined. I do well. He’s pleased. “Hell yeah, baby,” he approves, removing his protective glasses. “Hell yeah.”
“Hell yeah, is me going to the bathroom,” I say, setting my weapon down on the table in front of me, before removing my own protective glasses. “And I need food.”
He catches my hand and guides me to him. “Not sex?”
I laugh. “Not until you feed me.”
“Well then hurry the hell up and go pee so we can eat and get home.”
“Anything from your team on my father?”
“I’ll find out while you pee.” He promises.
I start to dart away and he catches my hand. “Forgetting something?”
My brow furrows and then I laugh and kiss him. “I like the kiss, baby, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Armed and dangerous. Live it. Take your gun, in your purse.”
“You already have me covered in tactical pens, Rick. And I’m not taking my purse.” He doesn’t release me. He just gives me one of those broody, Rick Savage looks. “Fine. I’m about to pee my pants. I’ll take the gun and purse.”
He releases me and I pick up the gun, making necessarily fast work of retrieving my purse, settling the gun inside, and just to please him, I pick up his preferred brand of mace and slip it in the side pocket. His sweet and hot stare, that promises an equally hot night, has me smiling as I head for the door. “Top of the stairs and down the hall to the right,” he calls after me.
I lift a hand and hurry out of the room and up the stairs. Once I’m in the single toilet private bathroom, I quickly kick the toilet seat down, cursing men. That’s the problem with sharing a bathroom with a man in a public place and one at home. At home, you know who to yell at. Outside home, you don’t.
Once I finish up, I suds my sore hands and silently thank Lea for the floral lotion, that I doubt Kevin chose. Feeling better, and ready to eat, I don’t give myself time to think about all the reasons I have to worry. As Rick said; Fretting, worry, and obsessive thoughts create emotional weakness. I can’t afford weakness, right now. And his suggestion that I fuck the hell out of him instead of fretting, well, that sounds pretty good right now.
Smiling again—thank you, Rick Savage—I open the door and jolt at the site of a tall, broad man with long blond hair and tattoos down his arms.
“There she is,” he says. “Finally, I meet the magnificent Candace.”
My heart explodes in my chest and my mind goes to Tag before it plays Rick’s words again: Fact find—which we’re doing for you—prepare, and then act. And shoot your damn gun. I reach in my purse, grab my mace, rather than my gun, and spray him in the face. He curses, and lifts his hands, leaning on the wall. That’s when I pull the tactical pen from my waistband and shove it in his thigh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Savage
I round the corner as Candace slams the tactical pencil into Asher’s leg, the mace bottle in her other hand, and holy shit, this is life at its best. I burst into laughter.
“Holy fuck, Savage!” he yells. “What the hell?”
He gets it.
This is “holy” territory.
Holy fuck. Holy shit. Holy wonderful.
“I guess you pissed her off, man. Candace, baby, that’s Asher.”
Candace drops the weapons in her hands and settles back on her heels and withdraws her attack, her breath heaving from her chest. “Asher?” she gasps. “You’re Asher?”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Asher half-growls because, despite the fact that I know he’s one of the rare ones who barely reacts to mace, he feels the contact. “I’m Asher,” he adds. “Did you talk to my wife or Savage before planning this or both?”
“Your wife?” she blinks. “Why would your wife want me to mace you? Are you an asshole to your wife?”
“No,” Asher says, pushing to a squat. “She knows I’m about 90% immune and it’s a blast from the past. She maced me.”
“Your wife maced you?” Candace gasps. “Why?”
“I was trying to save her the way I am you, and she did the same thing as you and shot first, asked questions later.”
I catch Candace’s arm and pull her to her feet. “Which is a good thing,” I assure her. “You didn’t exactly use that pen effectively though. It didn’t get past his jeans and into his leg.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Asher says, standing, eyes watering. “I need to go and wash my damn face.” He steps around Candace and enters the bathroom.
“Navy SEALs aren’t what they’re cracked up to be, baby,” I say. “As proven by you all but taking him out.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her!” Asher calls out. “Asshole,” he mumbles as the water comes on.
“Oh my God, Rick,” Candace whispers. “I can’t believe I just did that.” And when she would press her hands to her face, I drop the mace and pen and catch her wrists.
“Now you’re just making me a hero,” I say. “Don’t touch your face until you scrub down. Most people react far worse to mace than shithead in there and it doesn’t take much contact to feel the pain.”
“I feel horrible that I just did that,” she frets, and then calls over her shoulder, “I’m so sorry Asher!”
“Always happy to be a sparring partner,” Asher calls back. “Just warn me next time,” he adds in another mutter.
I grin. Candace knees my leg. “Stop. I really do feel horrible.”
“Go wash up,” I say, releasing her and motioning her to the bathroom.
“And you stop laughing at him.” With that, she spins around and enters the bathroom with Asher.
Following, I stop in the doorway and watch Asher step away from the sink, offering
it to Candace while he grabs paper towels. “Sorry,” Candace murmurs again, turning on the water and lathering up. “You really aren’t in pain right now?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” he says. “It feels a bit like bad allergies for me. As for the pen, you should have gone for the groin. And,” he adds, scowling at me, “Savage should have warned you I was coming.”
“You called after she went to the bathroom, jerk-off,” I snap. “And why are you sneaking up on her?”
He steps up to me, puffed up in the chest in challenge, and there was a time when him doing this would have been real, when he would have wanted to punch me. Back when all he saw when he looked at me was a mercenary. He hated me. I liked that about him. Now? Now, we’ve shifted, become friends. The truth is, much about my life has shifted since I joined Walker Security and for the first time, I allow myself to believe that was preparing me to come back to Candace.
“Pussy,” Asher snaps.
“Fish-face woolly mammoth,” I snap.
“Wooly mammoth?” he challenges. “What the fuck, Savage?”
“All that damn girly hair around your pretty little face.”
“You and your ugly mug wanna throw down?” Asher challenges.
“Yeah, man. Let’s throw the fuck down.”
Candace steps to our sides and presses a hand to both our chests. “Stop, you two. Stop now.”
Asher and I burst into laughter. “One day,” he says.
“Bring it, woolly,” I challenge, but I also back away and let him out of the bathroom.
Candace follows us, eyeing us both, a confused look furrowing her brow. “What just happened?”
“What happened,” Asher says, “is that I decoded your father’s notes to the best of my ability. Now, I need the two of you to help me add two and two to make four.”
“This is my father we’re talking about,” Candace says. “The answer wouldn’t be that simple. Two and two better equal five or you’ll never find your answer.”
“Then let’s find that magic five,” he says, grabbing the bag he’s left on the floor at some point, I suspect when he hit the ground. “We all need to change shirts and wash up again.”
“I’m not reacting to anything,” Candace says. “I feel fine.”
“He’s right,” I say, pointing a finger at Asher. “Don’t get used to those words,” I warn before I glance at Candace. “If you get one wrong rub of that pepper spray, you’ll feel the pain. Lea can get you a change of clothes.”
“Can’t we just go home?” she asks.
“Not a good idea,” Asher says. “Then it’s all over the car.”
Not long later, Lea has forced everyone to take showers, which sends Candace to a female locker room and me and Asher to a men’s locker room. Asher tosses a duffle down on the bench in front of the showers. “You can wear some of my shit. Lea just told me she’s getting Candace some clothes.”
I cut past the clothes and pepper spray. “Any word on her mother?”
“Not yet. I’m forced to devote my time to the most pressing safety issues. I have shit I really need you to look at. Kara sent you a message. She has Max’s wife. She’s staying in one of our safe houses until all of this is over. No word from Max.” He clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Here’s to hoping he doesn’t earn a red dot by his name.”
A few minutes later, I step under a shower, with a clawing feeling in my gut. A feeling that says that Max earned his red dot. Max is dead and he’s not a man who would die easily. But then, neither am I.
***
Half an hour later, I’m wearing Asher’s clothes, and the jeans are so damn tight they’re squeezing the fuck out of my balls which Asher finds far too amusing. The only thing that keeps me from punching him in his balls, just so he can feel for me, is Candace joining us in the main lobby. Candace who looks sweet as fuck in a pair of equally tight jeans that is now making my tight jeans even tighter.
“Now what?” she asks, giving me an inspection that lands on my bulging crotch, a devious smile on her glossy lips.
I grab her and pull her to me, my hand on her perfect ass. I kiss her hard and fast while Asher pats his leather bag. “We need to go through my questions and data collected. Where can we do this?”
“Next door at McDonald’s,” Candace suggests. “I’m starving.”
I slide an arm around her. “I’m sure you now see what a perfect woman she is.”
“Every perfect woman I know I met by being maced,” he teases and winks at Candace, who blushes.
My perfect woman.
So perfect she’s worth killing for. And the killing is coming, the slaughter is coming. It’s in the air, a whisper that promises that the ground we walk on now might be clean and dry, but soon, very soon, we may well be wading through a river of blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Candace
The first hot salted French fry is always moan-worthy. Today is no exception. I moan, and Savage stares at me like he’s going to throw me on the table right here and now and do who knows what to me. “You’re killing me here, Savage,” Asher groans, from across the table. “Stop. Looking. At. Her. That. Way.”
Asher should know better. Rick loves to antagonize, and he proves this point by turning me to him and him to me, while giving me a hungry once over and saying, “Right here, right now. On the table.”
I shove a fry into my mouth. He grimaces and complains, “You’re ruining the mood.”
“The mood is hungry,” I say, shoving a fry into his mouth. He chews and I arch a brow. “Good.”
He grabs another fry. “Damn good fries, but you’re still better.”
Asher shoves a file in between us. “The mood is read this.” We glance over at him and he takes a bite of his burger. I decide right then that with all his long blond hair and tattoos, he looks like a rock star, not a Navy SEAL. But then, SEALs are really rock stars. Asher taps the folder. “I put names next to every dog tag to include current status and location.”
Savage faces forward again, flips open the file, eyeing the list, while I do the same and ask, “Status?”
“Alive, dead, deployed, enlisted,” Asher explains. “There are only five people on that list who are still alive. You, Rick. Three who work for Tag. One who works for your father, Candace. And that someone is here in San Antonio and stateside.”
I finish off a bite of a burger. “Who is this someone?” I ask, about to glance at the list when Asher says, “Gordan Moore.”
“Gordan is on this list?” I ask, my tone incredulous. “No way. He’s like the guy with glasses who is sensitive and shy. He’s more of a secretary to my father than a black ops soldier.” I don’t give anyone time to respond. “And a tech guru. He’s an information guy. He knows things we need to know and he’s going to be dead soon if we don’t save him.” I throw the rest of my burger in the bag and turn to Rick. “We have to get to him before they do.”
“Agreed,” Rick says, and after inhaling the rest of his burger in two bites, he eyes Asher, who’s doing the same. “Where is he now?” he asks, clearly certain Asher knows.
“At a country bar,” Asher says, tossing his trash into the bag as well. “Smith is watching him, but we don’t want to pull him from a public place. We’re waiting to grab him until he leaves.”
“He knows me,” I say. “He’s had a crush on me for years. Let me just go in and get him.”
“I don’t want you anywhere near him,” Rick says, nixing that idea. “He’s a target. You aren’t getting between him and an enemy combatant.”
“No one is killing me before you do what they want you to do,” I remind him. “I’m not a target. Not yet, at least. And I think maybe before we get him out of there, I should talk to him. He knows things he might be more willing to tell if it’s just me and him.”
“You’re once again asking me to let you fuck around with another man, to save the day. Really, Candy baby?”
The fact that he calls me Candy tells me he’s not really
pissed. I lean over and kiss his cheek. “You know that’s not true. Sit right next to us. Be my personal bodyguard. You know how you like that game.”
“All right,” Asher says. “I’ll be outside waiting for you.” He stands up and we both laugh.
“Wait,” Rick orders.
Asher towers over us with an arched brow.
“Grab me a couple of apple pies,” Rick says. “I need to look through the file before we do anything.”
“Do I look like your bakery service?” Asher grumbles.
“About all a SEAL is good for, man,” Savage jabs back.
Asher glares at him and then laughs. “You’re are a piece of work, Savage. I’m getting the pies because I never leave this place without a half dozen.” He eyes me. “Want something?”
“Cherry pie,” I say because, for just a few minutes, I want my world to be cherry pie and Rick Savage. After that, we go save Gordan. In other words, it’s back to murder, mayhem, and Honest Gabe’s quest for world domination.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Savage
I pull the Porsche into the parking lot of the familiar country bar, behind the pickup truck Asher is driving, directing Candace and me to the only spot I can find available. Parking, I slide us into a spot, remarkably big enough to kick on both sides, and kill the engine. The darkness of what is now evening cloaks the car, shadows cut by passing car lights. Glancing over at Candace, I hit that elephant in the car hard and fast. “It’s still here, I see,” I comment, the air charged with memories we made right here in this parking lot.
“Yes,” she says, her hands on her legs, fingers flexing into her thighs. “It’s still here.”
“Do you—”
“No,” she says, glancing over at me and me her. “I don’t come here. Not since you left.”
“Good,” I say, covering her hand with mine on her leg, my eyes meeting hers, “because I don’t care how selfish I sound. This place was ours. Just ours.”
She swallows hard, her tongue snaking out to lick her lips, and just when I’m thinking of mine joining hers, she turns away. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, it always has been our place.”
Savage Burn Page 10
