Chapter 2
Pid was ultra-aware of the woman at his back, though she hadn’t said a word since they’d barely managed to slip out of the house before it went up in flames.
Even though he’d told her he wasn’t afraid she’d take his knife and use it against him, he honestly wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wouldn’t.
He’d never been in a situation where he and his team had gone in to rescue someone who was so openly hostile. Some were scared out of their mind, others were distrustful at first, but normally loosened up once they realized they were about to be rescued. Others were demanding.
In this case, he one hundred percent believed Monica would’ve shot him if he hadn’t moved as fast as he had. And it seemed the longer she was around him and Slate, the more her distrust grew. It was baffling.
It didn’t help that whoever had shot out the door of the house had claimed to be a SEAL, but he suspected her antagonistic behavior went beyond that event.
How Pid knew that, he had no idea, but when he’d looked into her eyes, he’d seen a level of fear he’d rarely encountered before.
She had bravado in spades, but someone had treated the woman like shit—and it pissed him off.
Pid wanted to beat the hell out of whoever had taught her to be so distrustful.
He also hadn’t missed her disfigured left hand; it was the reason why he’d grabbed her right to hook to his belt.
He found himself wanting answers. How had she injured her hand? Who’d made her so distrustful of military members? Why had her attitude changed instantly at the mere mention of the boys she was in charge of?
But she was a mission; nothing more, nothing less. As soon as he and Slate met back up with their team and deposited Monica with the rest of the people they’d evacuated, the SEALs would be on their way home to Hawaii.
Sounds of the out-of-control mob at their backs spurred Pid to walk a little faster. Slate was several paces ahead of them, his head constantly on a swivel, looking for trouble. Monica maintained her silence as they walked through backyards and down alleyways to avoid the main streets.
Just when Pid thought they were home free and would be able to make it to the meeting spot without trouble, Slate stopped in his tracks, then turned and headed back toward them. The look on his face told Pid all he needed to know.
“We can’t go that way,” he said.
Pid heard the shouts from another group of rowdy protestors getting louder and louder as the crowd neared their location. He turned to reassure Monica that he and Slate would keep her out of harm’s way. Her gaze was fixed to the middle of his chest and she had absolutely no expression on her face.
“It’ll take longer, but we’ll circle around to the east,” Slate said.
Pid nodded, and once more they were walking at a fast clip, trying to outmaneuver the protestors. Monica tripped once, but her grip on his waistband kept her upright. Pid reached back and took hold of her arm to try to assist, but she shook off his hand.
“I’m fine,” she told him, her tone resentful.
Many men would take her attitude personally. Would let it affect how they treated her. But Pid wasn’t one of them. The more standoffish she was, the more he wanted to know why. She was acting so differently from how most people would in her situation, he was sure there had to be a reason.
He was also honest enough to admit to himself that regardless of her prickly attitude, he found the woman attractive.
And noticing someone’s looks in the middle of an op wasn’t like him at all.
He was always professional, and had never felt one iota of attraction toward someone while on a rescue mission.
But there was something about the contradiction between her vulnerable looks and her fierce attitude that got to him.
Pid didn’t have a type when it came to women.
He’d been with brunettes, redheads, blondes…
tall, short, curvy, athletic, slender…artistic, analytical, liberal, conservative… he’d dated them all.
But from the moment Monica had threatened to shoot him, something in his psyche had inexplicably stood up and taken notice.
She was around a foot shorter, but he could feel the muscles in her petite frame when he held her.
Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail and the light strands had clung to the stubble on his face.
He saw intense emotion in her ice-blue eyes, though the rest of her face had been largely expressionless, save for the slight flush of her cheeks betraying her anger.
He suspected she had more passion in her little finger than some people had in their entire bodies. She did her best to bank it, but Pid saw it simmering behind her eyes. He had a feeling when she let loose, truly let loose, she’d be a sight to see.
One thing Pid was certain of—whoever broke through her extremely thick barriers would be a lucky man.
Even though it was inappropriate as hell, he thought that he might want to be that man.
Then he shook his head at his own ridiculousness. The second they rendezvoused with the other citizens being evacuated, she’d be gone. And he had no doubt she wouldn’t look back.
Reminded of that fact, Pid did his best to turn his concentration back to the mission at hand. Namely, getting the hell out of this neighborhood and safely evacuating the nanny and themselves.
But it didn’t seem that was going to be as easy as they’d hoped. The number of protestors in the neighborhood had risen since they’d crept into the streets. It was as if someone had decided it was open season on the houses in the upper-class neighborhood.
As soon as the thought entered his head, Pid knew that was exactly what had happened. And with mob mentality, all it took was a few people to start the looting and raiding before others followed.
“We need to find a place to hunker down for a while,” Pid told Slate.
His teammate nodded. The trick was finding somewhere that wouldn’t become a target for the opportunists currently looking to steal anything they could get their hands on. The air was already thick with the smell of smoke as houses were set on fire after they were cleaned out.
“There’s an abandoned factory of some sort a few streets over,” Monica said.
Both Pid and Slate turned to look at her.
Her chin came up, as if she felt the need to defend her suggestion.
“I like to take walks on my time off. It relaxes me and gives me space to think. The building seems safe, there aren’t any machines or anything in there anymore.
Just a bunch of empty boxes and old wood.
When the weather’s bad, some of the neighborhood kids use it for pickup games of football…
soccer…because the main floor’s completely open, without a bunch of walls breaking it up. ”
“Which way?” Slate asked.
Monica let out the breath she was obviously holding. She’d clearly expected them to dismiss her suggestion. She lifted her hand off his belt and pointed to the right.
Slate nodded and headed that way. Monica started to follow, and Pid reached for her hand. He wasn’t paying attention and realized as soon as his fingers closed around her hand that he’d taken hold of her left one. The one without fingers.
Monica lashed out so quickly, Pid was unprepared. She jerked her hand out of his and hissed, “Don’t touch me!”
Pid held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.”
“I mean it. No one touches my hand. No one.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry again.”
They stared at each other for a heated moment before Monica dropped her gaze, her cheeks flushed once more.
“I was just trying to help you grab hold of my waistband again.”
“You don’t have to manhandle me. All you have to do is use your words,” she said caustically.
Surprisingly, her words and tone didn’t turn Pid off. But he didn’t dare smile. He had a feeling she’d incorrectly assume he was laughing at her. He wasn’t; that last statement just sounded as if she was talking to one of her kids. He wasn’t seven, but she had a good point.
“You’re right. Sorry. Please grab hold of me again, Monica. I need to know you’re at my heels at all times.”
She stared at him with a look of confusion.
“What?” he asked.
“I just— You apologized.”
It was Pid’s turn to be confused. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.
Especially since I don’t know you. Hasn’t anyone ever told you they were sorry after doing something they shouldn’t have?
” He meant his question to be lighthearted, but when she didn’t immediately roll her eyes and say “of course”…
he realized perhaps no one had ever apologized to her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “Can we go? The last thing I want is to end up in the middle of a crazed mob.” She reached out her right hand and lightly took hold of his belt once more.
There was so much Pid wanted to say at that moment, so many questions he wanted to ask, but she was right. They needed to get off the streets and to safety. He headed in the direction Monica had indicated and quickly caught up to Slate, who’d been not so patiently waiting for them.
“If I’d known you were going to stop to have a chat, I would’ve left your ass,” Slate grumbled.
Pid shook his head. “Always so impatient,” he chided.
“Whatever,” Slate said under his breath.
The threesome continued through the streets, moving away from any sounds of crowds before finally arriving at the back of a dark cinderblock building. It was on the edge of the upscale neighborhood, and with one glance, Pid knew it would be the perfect place to hole up for a while.
There were scraggly looking weeds all around the building and most of the glass in the windows had long since been broken out. The doors were missing and the vibe of the place was actually quite creepy.
“Kids come here to play?” Slate asked in disbelief.