“Sir?”
Something I’d learned over the last five days, Liberty’s backbone was infused with steel. The general singling her out did not make her happy and she had no issue showing her displeasure—not with her body language, not with her tone, and certainly not with the cutting look she’d directed the general’s way. As a matter of fact, Liberty oozed annoyance.
“Stay sharp. Watch your back. Look, listen, learn. You have the best of the best at your disposal so use them.”
Oh, yeah, my tigress was pissed as fuck. Her chin jutted out and her eyes narrowed into slits. She was fighting a losing battle keeping her temper in check and I knew she indeed lost that fight when she opened her mouth.
“All due respect—”
“Right.” Wick cut her off and chuckled. “Respect.” He shook his head, softened his gaze, and lowered his voice. “I’m not asking as your commanding officer, Liberty. I’m asking as a man who watched you crawl on your father’s lap when you were in diapers. A man who was at your fifth birthday and placed your ass on a pony and led you around your family’s backyard. A man who was at your high school graduation. And finally as a man who fought beside your father. I don’t want your respect, young lady. I want your goddamn promise I will not be accompanying a condolence officer to deliver a crushing death notification.”
Jesus, I had no idea how close Wick was to the McCoy family. I knew they had ties but not a clue how deep they ran. Neither Liberty nor the general had let on to their profound connection. Which actually impressed me. Liberty could’ve used the bond for special treatment and she had not, nor had Wick allowed her to bypass evaluations.
“I promise,” she whispered.
Wick’s body relaxed a tiny fraction and his nose twitched before he sniffed. “Be safe. All of you.”
And with that, the man turned and went back to the large screens mounted against the back of the room.
We made our way outside. The fresh air filled my lungs and I took a moment to enjoy the quiet. It was late, most everyone who wasn’t on duty was asleep and the ones who weren’t knew not to make a ruckus. In a few hours’ time, gone would be the fresh air and quiet. Neither of those things would exist while we were in Beirut. It would be noise, pollution, and people.
We made the short walk back to the barracks in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. This was not unusual, if we had a few hours before we loaded out, we always took that time to get our heads straight.
Trey let us into the hut and went straight to his bunk. The others did the same, leaving Liberty and me alone by the door.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
Her eyes came to mine and my first instinct was to pull her close.
Now was not the time.
Actually, never was the time. But after our kiss the other night, never was getting harder and harder to accept. For five nights, she’d slept in my arms. Five. And I was addicted. Tucking her close and feeling her strong, lean body pressed against mine was a rush. The same kind I used to get when I jumped out of the back of an aircraft at thirty-thousand feet. Her fingers laced with mine as she fought her way back from a nightmare felt like a gift. Breathing her in, holding her, but most especially kissing her, was the best fucking feeling I’d ever experienced.
And soon it would be gone.
A woman like Liberty made a man reevaluate his life. Reprioritize what was important.
All of that from five nights and a kiss.
I’ve had women in my bed who were masters of manipulation. They’d tried and failed to lock their chains around my neck. Fronted, schemed, and straight-out lied to get me to commit to them and the fantasy they had about marrying a SEAL. None had tempted me. None had interested me. And none had succeeded in making me fall for them.
But Liberty had.
And she’d done it in less than a week.
“Just running the op in my head,” she answered.
“You wanna talk it through?”
“Not right now. We’ll run it again when we get there.”
“Yeah. About a hundred more times.”
“Okay.”
There was something working in that pretty little head of hers but I couldn’t get a clear read.
“What’s really going on, babe?”
“I made myself a promise.” When she said no more, I patiently waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Something was weighing heavy on her and she needed to get it out now before we boarded a helicopter. Once we were in the air, there was no more time for idle chitchat. “When I decided to go to Ranger school, I promised myself I’d never be the weak link.”
“Liberty—”
“No, Drake. Please listen. It was important to me. I swore to myself that if I couldn’t keep up with the men, I’d quit. I didn’t need to max out the pull-ups or beat their run times, but I couldn’t come in last and that is not because I wanted to be some trailblazer. It’s not because being a woman in Ranger regiment was some lifelong goal to move the sisterhood forward. I had to know that me being there and my personal accomplishments were not ever going to put lives in danger.
“I went through SF training with the same mindset. If I couldn’t get my injured battle buddy to safety then I needed to step down. Something my dad taught me is, there’s no place for ego on the battlefield. Your wants, desires, and personal goals are checked and stowed when you enter a combat zone. I need you to know mine are checked and stowed and I’m ready to learn.
“I also need you to understand my motivation. I won’t deny I want to take out Lore and Roman. I do. I want it so badly I can taste it. I want to complete my mission—not to check the box but because it is what’s best for boots on the ground. Lives will be saved.
“What’s on my mind is, am I good enough? Am I capable of carrying you off the battlefield if needed? I am smaller and physically weaker than every man in this room. That’s a fact. So here I am, at the eleventh hour, soul searching.”
Fucking shit.
Honest to God, if I hadn’t already been completely taken in by this woman after that, I would’ve fallen in love.
I was so enthralled by Liberty, I missed my team coming close. I missed them listening in and eyeing Liberty as she spoke.
“You’re good enough,” Logan told her.
I lost her eyes as she looked at Logan and asked, “You willing to bet on that?”
“Yep. Just like I’d bet my life you’ll have my back.” Logan semi-repeated their exchange from earlier.
“Stick close, kid, we’ll teach you a thing or two.” Luke winked and I damn near convulsed at his playful tease. He was by and far the most standoffish of the team.
“Pre-op pucker, girl, nothing more. You’ll be fine. You trust us and we trust you, that’s how this works,” Matt added.
“Just remember the rules,” Trey started and all of us groaned.
“If you quote Zombieland I’m gonna throat-punch you,” Logan threatened.
How many times had Trey quoted those stupid rules? Too many. Enough that we had all seventy-three memorized, and by the time he got to number five, someone normal gut-checked him.
“What? Seriously, they work,” Trey defended. “Cardio, double tap, beware of bathrooms, buckle up.” Wait for it. “Travel light.” Matt being the closest moved, and socked him in the solar plexus. While Trey was gasping for air and coughing, he smiled and said, “And don’t be a hero.”
“Do we get to enjoy the little things?” Liberty asked with a broad, bright smile.
“Rule number eleven.” Trey beamed. “Hot damn. Woman, you’re all right.”
Matt clapped Liberty on the shoulder as he walked past her on the way back to his bunk muttering something about her being a cool chick. I agreed she was but I didn’t like hearing Matt’s compliment. I also didn’t like seeing Matt touch her.
Where in the actual hell did that come from?
“You trust us?” I asked.
“Yes. Do you trust me?”
�
�Absolutely.”
“There’s no hard feelings if—”
In two strides, I closed the distance between us, my hands went to Liberty’s hips, her words died, and I hauled her closer. “Straight up truth, when my life is on the line I’m not concerned about hurting feelings. I’m concerned about the job. I’m concerned about my objective. I’m concerned about the good guys coming home and the bad guys dying. At no time during a mission am I worried about offending someone. Hard feelings or not, if I didn’t believe you were capable you wouldn’t be going with us. And now I know that has less to do with me asking for your removal and more to do with you asking to be removed. It’s good to know your limitations, your strengths, and how to work around weakness. The mere fact you’re thinking about these things and they’re weighing on you tells me your head’s where it needs to be. What you can’t do is crumble under the weight. Check your ego but keep your confidence. They’re two different things. One gets you dead, the other will keep you alive.”
Liberty’s hands had made their way to my chest and her tiny palms were burning through my tee. I wished her handprints would forever be blistered on my skin. Tangible marks I could look at, physical reminders of what she meant to me.
“Confidence. You’re right,” she mumbled.
“Always am, baby.”
Liberty’s lips tipped up and her eyes lit. Fucking hell, she was something else. Bright—so bright my skin warmed. Unless it was the middle of the night. Then she was filled with darkness and that shit cut me deep. It hurt like a bitch to see her wounded eyes search mine as the remnants of her nightmares tore her apart.
But what hurt worse was soon she’d be dealing with that on her own. I wouldn’t be there to hold her hand and help her beat back the demons as they viciously tried to pull her under.
“Can you say arrogant.”
“Arrogant?” I shook my head. “I’m unfamiliar with that word.”
“Right. You should look it up. The dictionary defines the word as Drake Hayes. There’s even a picture of this really hot guy for those who can’t read.”
“Hot guy?” I teased.
“Really hot guy.”
Fucking shit.
I lowered my mouth to her ear knowing that the guys were listening in, therefore they’d already heard enough—too much, in fact. No one needed to worry about Liberty’s performance on the battlefield. They needed to worry about mine. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure because I’d never tried it, but I didn’t think running and gunning with an enormous hard-on was recommended. And if we didn’t cut this shit out now, hours from now when we landed in Beirut, my dick would still be throbbing.
“You’re hell on a man’s control,” I whispered.
“How so?”
“Just you standing close breathin’ is enough to make me want to tear your clothes off. You being cute and funny, admitting you think I’m hot… now that makes me want to tear your clothes off and play with you until you’re screaming my name.”
“Really hot.” Her breath fanned across my neck and I was holding on by a thread. “Don’t forget the really.”
My body made the decision. The decision being, I pressed my hard-on against Liberty’s stomach, ignored her body when she softened into me, and growled, “You’re playing with fire.” My brain finally caught up and I stepped away. “Seriously, Liberty, there’s only so much I can take before I really take. I think that’s what we both want, but I’m playin’ it smart. Help me with that, babe, and don’t push it.”
I took a moment to memorize the pout on her lips and blush on her cheeks. Then I turned and left. But not before I remembered how fucking great she tasted.
17
Beirut was bustling. Even in the wee hours of the morning.
We’d arrived at the apartment we were staying at for the next couple of nights. I wasn’t hip on real estate in Beirut but the space was surprisingly modern. It wasn’t lost on me the three bedroom, three bath apartment was in an expensive building with spectacular views of the Mediterranean Sea. We were on the top floor and a balcony stretched the length of the apartment on the sea side. Spacious living room, huge square kitchen, gleaming white marble floors with veins of gold running throughout. And it was fully furnished—two black leather couches facing each other in the living room and a four top, round table in the breakfast nook with a view of the Mediterranean. Two of the three bedrooms had that same view.
All in all, the place was swank. I could almost forget we were there on an op and not a vacation if it wasn’t for the five sea bags, gun cases, and backpacks strewn about.
Upon our arrival we’d swept the entire apartment before the guys got down to the all-important task of assigning bedrooms. Which is what they were doing now—arguing about who got which room. I was staying out of it because I didn’t care. I’d be happy sleeping out on the balcony, the view was that good. Though there wasn’t any patio furniture out there which I thought was vaguely odd.
That’s what I was contemplating when I heard my name.
“What about me?”
“Only three bedrooms,” Matt told me.
“So? I saw two beds in the room I searched. Three rooms, two beds in each, that’s six. What’s the problem?”
“Five beds,” Luke snickered. “Master has a queen, not two singles.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll take the couch.”
“No. You’ll take the master, I’ll take the couch,” Drake shot back and I glanced at the leather sofa.
“Right.” I laughed. “Sorry, big man, but you’re not fitting on that thing. Not sure if that’s some European style I’ve never seen before, but it’s way too small for you. The only person fitting on that couch is me.”
“I’ll take the floor.”
“Told you, brother, I’ll take one for the team. You take a single, I shack up with the lieutenant,” Trey joked.
And I knew he was clowning around, pushing Drake’s buttons, when he flashed me his Hollywood smile while trying his best to beat back a laugh.
“You try that and you’ll find your ass over the balcony, pretty boy.”
At Drake’s outburst, Trey lost the battle and burst into laughter. The rest of the guys weren’t far behind, chuckling and making jabs.
They all had great laughs. They were tough as nails when they needed to be. Hard, rough men who carried a heavy load. But when they cut up, they were hilarious together.
Friends.
Brothers.
Teammates.
My smile died, my heart pinched, and bile swirled in my stomach.
Teammates.
Mine were gone—because of me—and there I was, smiling and joking about who was going to get which bed.
Breathing.
I was breathing and they weren’t.
How could I forget? Even for a second, how could I joke and smile and enjoy the comradery of the group of men who’d rescued me and not them?
I didn’t have the right.
“Come on.” Drake’s hand snagged mine and then he was dragging me out of the room, up the stairs, and before my brain reengaged, we were in the master bedroom.
“What’s wrong?” he barked.
“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one that drug me up here.”
“Don’t try to bullshit me, Liberty.”
My temper rose, and the bile that’d been swirling in my stomach turned into the fuel I needed. I couldn’t forget my place. I couldn’t forget I was the lone survivor in a murder attempt that should’ve ended with me dead, not my team. I pulled up all the memories of that day, the day we’d been ambushed. I remembered the look of shock on my teammates’ faces. I remembered the anger in Perez’s normally happy face. And finally I remembered Ball’s prone body next to mine in the dirt. Our wrists and ankles zip tied, our eyes locked, and his last whispered words to me, “Stay strong.”
Then I was separated from my men, their angry protests rang out as I was thrown into the bed of a pickup truck and a masked man climbed in
behind me. I’ll never forget the flash suppressor of his rifle jabbing me in the back as we bounced down the bumpy road. Visions of the man accidentally shooting me as the truck hit pothole after pothole.
I wish I would’ve died in that truck.
I wish my team had lived.
Five good men died and I’d had five good days breathing, laughing, and joking.
Wrong.
It was so wrong I couldn’t find my breath.
“Liberty,” Drake snapped.
“I’m unclear what your issue is, Master Chief.”
Drake did a slow blink, then his eyes narrowed into two dangerously, pissed-off slits. The corners of his eyes wrinkled, his lips pressed together, and his brows pinched. His face as a whole was a mask of fury.
“Drake,” he barked.
“What?”
“My name is Drake.”
“So, you brought me up here to tell me your name.”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“My fucking name.”
“Why?”
“So you’ll remember who the fuck you’re talking to. I see you’ve slipped back into that fucked-up place in your head again. You’re putting up walls. But what you still don’t get is, those walls, they’re not keeping others out. They’re keeping you trapped inside. Inside a place that’s totally fucked-up.”
“Good to know you think I’m fucked-up.”
“Babe, your head’s a mess. And I keep telling you it’s gonna stay that way until you deal with it. What happened to you, to your team, was not your fault. Don’t take that on. You have enough weighing you down. Trust me, you don’t need that, too.”
“Right,” I bit out sarcastically. “Roman’s vendetta against my family is what killed those men. That means it is absolutely my fault.”
“No, Liberty, it means it’s Roman’s fault. His father was a piece of shit, he needed to be put down and Lenox made that so. Your uncle made the world a safer place. One less arms dealer roaming the planet. Junior doesn’t see it that way, thinks dear ol’ dad was a saint and wants retribution, that’s not your fault either.”
“You don’t understand.”
Taking Liberty: The Next Generation Page 12
