Chapter 10
Joelle couldn’t believe she’d had the audacity not only to kiss Mike, but to suggest they become an item so his ex would back off. It wasn’t going to be a hardship for her… Ah, helmet. Yes, it was. Because she wanted to jump Mike’s bones for real, and other than a little PDA aimed at confusing the murderous Mellie, nothing more would be on their proposed agenda. What would her excuse be if she accidentally took things to another level in private?
Oh, don’t mind me. Just part of the job. I’m rubbing up against your impressiveshnick in order to keep you alive.
Joe managed to avoid a snort. Barely.
Mmm, hmm. She’d felt the more than adequate bulge in Mike’s BDU’s—or BVD’s—before he’d leveraged himself off her. Which meant… He had to be physically interested in her, too. Right?
She broke into a grin. This thing might just work out for both of them.
“I’m all in.” Joelle stated her opinion happily, then bent down to brush the dirt off her clothes. She didn’t want anyone to see her gloat that they swiftly agreed to her plan without a fuss. “Where do we go from here?”
“That’s going to take some figuring. And time. You want to come back to camp and join us for supper where we can brainstorm?” Alvero asked.
Mike immediately got a grumpy look on his face that his buddy seemed to notice. Joe hoped it was because her new fixation wanted to keep her all to himself.
“What?” the medic put in quickly. “We need to get your stories straight for your ex.” He pointed back and forth between Joe and Mike. “Like where you two lovebirds met, how long you’ve been seeing each other on the sly, and all kind of other, small shit.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Joelle agreed. “Let me just move my car and lock it up, then I’m all for sharing grub with you guys.”
“We’ll wait.” Mike still didn’t sound at all pumped with the prospect of her joining his team for a meal and a discussion.
Joe walked off, puzzled. What was his problem? Mike would be getting a great deal; discouraging his ex from killing him while at the same time being allowed to play footsie, albeit in a pretend kind of way, with Joe.
Joe shrugged, getting in her car to move it. She wasn’t going to start telling the man his business by getting up in his face. That’s what always got her into trouble. Just this once, she’d follow someone’s lead.
For now.
Parking and locking her car, she walked back to the small group, unsure why exactly she wanted to play nice with Mike instead of calling him out on his boorishness. It wasn’t her norm. She dug deeper.
Maybe it was to witness the twinkle in his eye she’d seen him throw her way at the gym the other day. She hadn’t missed his interest, and it had been…affirming. Yeah. That had to be it. She’d enjoyed being looked at appreciatively by a guy who regarded her as something other than a testicle-busting bitch. She could work with that.
“What’s your real name?” Mike barked out as she approached, pocketing her keys.
Joe grimaced. So much for being wanted for her charms.
“I’m not at liberty to tell you,” she responded sharply. “Suffice to say, I’ll answer to Elle. It’s close enough to my real name.”
“Which means you’re not going to tell us who you work for, either,” Mike surmised, disgruntledly.
“Smart man.” Joe winked to hopefully yank his chain, then turned to him as they all started walking. “Listen. Why don’t you throw me some softballs? Other than my name, rank, and serial number, I promise I’m an open book.”
Now it was Welker’s turn to snort. “Not the term I’d use.”
Mike, however, bit. “Fine. Let’s start with the cut on your chin, and end with your odd choice of softening expletives.”
Joelle couldn’t help but poke back, saying for his ears only; “Not going with list number two? Our kiss, and your, uh, reaction to it?”
“Later,” the man growled, and didn’t that just send tingles up and down her spine. Was he making a promise? Joe sure hoped so, because this guy rang all her bells.
“Okay. My chin.” Once again, Joe found herself giving in easily. There was something about Mike that made her want to bite—literally—not bark. “I was taking a nice, relaxing hike north of here, and was nearing the summit when my phone showed me your ex’s car was moving steadily in your direction. I turned around and booked it down the mountain, triple-time. I was just about to my vehicle when I lost focus and tripped on a root. This,” she waved at her face, “is the result.”
“That sucks,” Kyle commiserated, then turned to Mike, cheekily. “LT,” he snarked. “She hurt herself coming to your rescue. That’s like…rom-com 101.”
Joelle grinned. She was really coming to like Mike’s friends. They clearly loved him, but weren’t above giving him shpit.
“Or a bad horror flick,” Mike returned with a grunt before verbally accosting Joe again. “Now tell about your fucked-up swearing.”
“That one’s easy.” Joe shrugged. “I have a boss who… How shall I say this? He takes exception to my balsa-to-the-wall disposition. He hates it when I act out, act up, or out and out…act. In other words, he wishes I wasn’t sporting the personality I was born with, and the feeling is mutual.”
“Not into strong-willed women, huh?” Welker replied.
“Understatement,” Joe agreed, glad somebody was getting her. “Anyway, this ask-hat boss of mine was one of my instructors at the— Uh—where I underwent training a bunch of years ago.” She caught herself just in time before revealing pertinent info. “He noticed, even back then, my propensity to go off-task. Not that it’s always a bad thing, according to me. When Mr. Big-man set up mock-conflicts, I was the one who’d think outside the box and more often than not uncover what he was really attempting, which pissed him off.”
“Sounds like a total douche. But you were done with him once you got through your schooling, right?” Alvero posed, heavily emphasizing the word school, but again, Joelle wasn’t going to be led.
“So I thought. But just a year later he was assigned to be my boss.” That had been a sour moment.
“Which means…?” Doug wanted to know.
“Which means he now gets to bust my brawls whenever and however he wants. And one of the things he took exception to, early on, was my language. Which had always been an integral part of me,” she grunted. “I grew up in a male dominated home, my mother having died when I was a baby. I was brought up by my father, and we lived with his brothers, my two bachelor uncles who are retired military, but were often deployed while I was young. I learned from the best to cuss; never accused of having a sweet mouth. But I knew when to use my colorful words and when not to. I never had a problem choosing my venues before I…took my current job.” Joe shrugged. “Then once I was surrounded by a bunch of guys whose swears would concuss Cartman’s eardrums, I dropped my constraints and let fly. Like one of the team, you know?”
“So what was the problem?” Mike asked.
“There actually wasn’t one until that drink-head decided there was,” she glowered. “Every time I swore, he’d write me up. Which was really unfair, because he didn’t do it to any of my male colleagues. But fair or not, before I became a wash-out statistic, I learned to curb my colorful vocabulary. Although,” she snickered, “the words I use now make him equally nuts. He just can’t do anything about it. So, I guess you’d say the drouche has this antiquated idea about how women should sound and act, and I tromped on those nicely conceived notions. Of course, there’s more.”
Mike’s lip curled up in a semi-grin. “Right. The more you already mentioned. You have a propensity to go off on tangents while you’re working. Like now,” he pointed out. “Your boss curbed your language, but not your unauthorized excursions into worm holes.”
“Nicely put,” Joelle applauded. “Because of some past…indiscretions, he’d go flippin’ ballistic if he knew what I was doing here with you.”
Mike raised his brows. “Riddle me this. Are you still working your actual case to the fullest of your abilities?”
“Frogging right I am,” Joe replied with alacrity. “I forwarded good intel to the powers-that-be just this morning, as well as performing my own due-diligence. Which means I’m waiting for things to happen before I can take any further action.”
“Well then, your asshole boss can’t complain, can he,” Welker stated, clearly taking her side, for which Joe was appreciative.
“He shouldn’t be able to, but he’ll find a way if he finds out. Instead of wanting me to be involved with Mike’s intrigue, I’m sure he’d rather murder were done while I sit in my rental room knitting socks.”
“Then the guy is delusional,” Cisco snorted. “We’ve known you for…” he looked at his watch. “…forty-two minutes, and I already know there are no yarn-goods in your past, present, or future.”
“See?” Joelle replied happily. “You get me. That’s all I’m looking for. People who understand my need to…multitask.”
Mike grunted, but this time his amusement was showing. “I’ll bite. Besides your assigned operation and this segue into my shit, how many other things are on your docket?”
“Not a one,” Joelle told him honestly. “At least right now.” She smiled sassily at him, daring him to call her out.
If her look became flirtatious, it was because she was feeling pretty good. About this group. About becoming Mike’s fake girlfriend…which she hoped wouldn’t be too fake. She’d protect the man while hopefully scratching an itch that hadn’t been taken care of in a very long time.
“And then there’s that,” Kyle noted, pointing to her face. Clearly, he was seeing the sparks that shot from her eyes as she regarded his boss. “So spill. Because we’ve all been wondering about the blood in Mike’s beard, and whether or not it’s yours.”
It was time to see if their acceptance of her included letting her tease. “Oh, that. It’s mine alright.” She didn’t so much as hint at a grin. “When he threw me to the ground thinking I was a perp, I passed out and he had to give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
She managed to keep a straight face, but Kyle…
“Uh, huh,” the kidder in the group nodded sagely, but she could see his chin trembling with suppressed mirth. “Mike’s good like that. Which means I’m assuming he accompanied the rescue breathing with a little tongue, and chest compressions?”
Joelle’s nipples tingled, remembering how nice they’d felt rubbing against Mike, even through several layers that included his flak jacket. What would it feel like, skin to skin…?
“And of course if you hadn’t responded quickly enough to a secondary chest massage,” Cisco added cheekily, breaking her out of her fantasy, “I’m sure he would have thoughtfully loosened your clothing, and?—”
“Okay, assholes. Enough,” Mike snarled. “If you must know, I kissed the lady. Okay? It was a heat of the moment kind of thing, and it just…happened.”
With color rising in her cheeks at the unaccustomed save Mike had sent her way regarding which one of them had been the aggressor, Joelle wondered if she should call Mike out on who had initiated the contact, or if she should let him have his moment. Deciding she liked him taking over for now, she kept her mouth shut, but couldn’t help a wink she sent in his direction.
This time both corners of his mouth quirked up.
Score.
Although she’d already ascertained that Mike probably smiled and laughed a lot, she hadn’t been the recipient of many of those beguiling looks. She’d take this one.
Amidst additional light banter, the seven of them walked briskly until eventually Joe spotted a large group of men and women in various stages of undress. Shed of protective flak jackets, boots, and constrictive BDU layers, the SWAT teams’ discards were spread out over rocks, ostensibly to dry, while they lounged about, decompressing. There was a lot of good-looking flesh on display, but as Joe and her escort approached, Mike began pulling off his gear to toss it aside.
Joe lost total focus of everyone else.
Bullet proof vest? Gone. Long sleeve shirt? History. Pecs that went on for miles? Drool.
“Mase? Everlee?” Mike called out, dragging Joe from her stupor. “I want you to meet someone.”
Another male hotty walked their way, his arm over the shoulders of a raven-haired beauty who clearly thought her squeeze hung the moon and stars. Mike introduced them.
“This is my Chief, Mason, and Everlee, our Use of Force consultant. Mase, Ever, this is Elle Picket. Which is not her real name.”
This brought a scowl to his superior’s lips.
Joe sighed. Why did higher-ups always have a problem with her? Of course, it didn’t help that Mike had chosen to introduce her the way he had. She needed to implement some damage control. Joe jumped in to take charge, as was her norm previous to meeting Mike.
She stepped forward with her hand extended. “My real name has been redacted for security purposes,” Joelle quipped with an edge of truth. “But I answer easily to Elle, so feel free to use it.”
The woman Mike had called Everlee walked forward with a true smile and took Joe’s proffered shake. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Ever Sothard, and this is my husband, Mason.” Her grin turned impish. “I can’t wait to hear the story behind all this.” She waved her hand at a dour Mike and his entourage.
“It’s not too complicated.” Joelle decided to go all in. “I’ve been watching Mike’s behind…” Oh, if they only knew how much. “…because I uncovered intel that he’s been targeted by—” That’s right, drangit. Mike hadn’t yet told the rest of his team about Melanie walking out on him. Joe quickly amended her statement. “…a certain faction who wants him dead. You’ve probably been briefed about the cameras on his property and the tag on his truck?”
When Mason nodded, still not smiling, Joelle continued.
“That was me. I needed to make sure these…people didn’t get to Mike without him having backup.”
“We’re normally Mike’s backup,” Mason stated, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would he need you?”
Everlee slapped him on the shoulder. “Lighten up, Mase,” she told him. “Look at Mike’s posse. Do their faces make you think something is seriously wrong?”
Joe turned to where Ever pointed, and sure enough, the five musketeers were all beaming like loons.
“If there was a problem,” Everlee continued to her disbelieving hubby, “Elle would be restrained. Not coming in under her own steam.”
Mason stink-eyed both Joe and Mike. “If that’s the case, it means I don’t have nearly the whole story. Would one of you like to fill in the missing details?”
By now a crowd had formed around them, and Joelle—again, atypically—stepped back, letting Mike take the heat on this one. It was mostly his story to tell.
Mike blew out a breath. “Goddammit. This wasn’t how I wanted to disclose things to you, but… In a nutshell, I might have forgotten to let you know that Melanie left me and the kids a year ago.”
He paused. Waiting.
Mason’s dour expression didn’t budge, and except for a twitch of one eyelid, Joe would have thought the information didn’t affect the man, at all.
Mike sighed and kept going. “We’re divorced now, but in the interim, I neglected to change my will and life insurance policies. She and her fucker boyfriend found out somehow…”
Not throwing the kids under the bus.
“…and have decided to kill me.”
So far so good. Mike’s chief had gone from mildly PO’d, to irate, to contemplative.
Mike resumed. “Elle is undercover as a server at the Local Moose for some agency or another which she won’t divulge, and that’s how she overheard the pair plotting,” Mike apprised the group. “She didn’t feel like outing herself to the local cops once she had her intel, or to us.” He gave her a disapproving look. “So she took it upon herself to become my watchdog.”
“Why is she here, now?” Mason asked evenly.
A reasonable question, which Mike once again answered.
“Because the tracer she put on Mellie’s car, showed her heading toward mine earlier, and Elle drove to the rescue. Sort of.”
Welker jumped in. “Shit. I wish I could have seen your initial meeting.” For those not in the know, he clarified. “Mike’s motion alarm, as you all know, had already clued him in to the fact that someone was messing with his truck.” He tried, and failed, to tamp down his amusement at the unorthodox meet-cute. “But Mike, of course, thought the perp was Elle.”
Joelle, listening avidly and ignoring the fun facts, shook her head. “That’s why you were already under your vehicle. You put a sensor on it.” It was intel they hadn’t shared yet, and it had her snickering. “You thought that whoever was touching your baby was the same person—me—who’d tagged your truck and put up the cameras.”
“An easy mistake to make,” Mike defended himself.
Joelle agreed. “Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation…” She trailed off. There was no need to school a smart crowd like this on philosophy.
Mike sent her a real smile, and goosebumps rose on her arms.
Dang, the man was potent.
“So, to wrap up,” Mike continued to his boss, “the Mellie-faction had already done their dirty and cut my brake lines by the time Elle arrived. I was under my truck when I saw her walking a circuitous route around my ride, so I took her down. Luckily, before we got into a major battle of strength, we shared explanations and cleared things up.”
“Did you damage her face?” Everlee looked at Mike sourly.
“Nope. I did that all on my own,” Joe cut in, more than willing to save his rep. “Clumsy geek that I am. And your man Alvero did a fine job stitching me up.”
Finally, the chief relented. “That’s a lot of information to take in on an empty stomach. I don’t suppose you’d like to join us for some food?”
Joelle grinned. “Alvero already invited me, which is why I’m here,” she revealed. “But if there’s not enough…”
“There’s plenty,” Everlee stated. “It’s just campfire stew, but I always make a lot. And I brought a bunch of homemade bread I cooked yesterday, so nobody will go hungry.”
“Sounds great,” Joelle replied. “Do you need any help?”
Everlee opened her mouth. “I?—”
“No. She doesn’t,” Mike stated unequivocally, cutting her off while pulling on a clean T-shirt from his go-bag.
What a shame.The view had been so freaking enticing.
Joe wondered what his next move would be, but didn’t have to wait long. Taking her elbow in an unrelenting, but gentle grip, Mike moved them both a few steps back, away from the crowd.
“You and I need to talk.”
Oh, craptastic. He was using his “authority voice”.
His mistake.
Joe never responded well to that.