9. Sexy military shit
Chapter 9
Sexy military shit
LETTIE
W elp . They’re out there. A whole team of them. Tomer included.
Hunting the man who spiked my drink, hauled me out of a bar, and attempted to destroy me with his vile friends.
Attempted .
Didn’t succeed.
Mia and Klein stayed behind to do... whatever it is they do from headquarters. I’m here in the lair with them, where I’ll be safe and sound.
The lair . Such a silly name, mysterious and diabolical. I wonder if Tomer came up with it.
To me, the space resembles something more like mission control. The monitors, covering an entire wall, provide a bird’s eye view of the op—that’s what everyone keeps calling it. The op . And they aren’t bodyguards right now; they’re operatives or operators. Ooh la la.
It’s like I’ve entered the inner sanctum or got plopped onto the set of an action movie.
Mia and Klein are positioned at their respective workstations, flipping through various screens and toggling between camera views. Before they left, Tomer and his badass buddies suited up with bulletproof vests, weapons, body cams, and headsets. We could hear them earlier, but now it’s like watching a silent film. I suspect Mia has their audio muted or the volume turned low.
“The team is ten mikes out, Aaron. Prepare to launch the drone.”
That’s another fun word I learned. Mikes means minutes in hot guy military speak.
If Tomer says that in front of me, I’ll probably fall to my knees in front of him with my mouth open and hair tied back.
And they’re using a drone, huh? This is so damn exciting. My knee is going for the world record in bouncing.
I watch with the wide-eyed fascination of a child walking down the stairs on Christmas morning. Sadly, the drone’s lift-off is anti-climactic, so my attention redirects to the body cam footage from the operatives in the SUVs. Giggle.
Boss Dad was in here until a few moments ago when he ran out to take an important call. I expect he’ll be back any minute. He wasn’t thrilled with my decision to watch the capture.
Peggy told me it wouldn’t be the first time a loved one watched an op from the safety of the lair. Then she twinkled her eyes at me, blinking about a hundred times in three seconds like she was physically trying to send her message to me via the breeze she made with her lashes. Pretty sure that was her way of ensuring I didn’t try to go on the op.
Message received.
Rather than asking Tomer for permission to view from the lair, I told him goodbye, kissed him, and drooled over how sexy he looked in his tough guy clothes. He said it was tactical attire . Another fun phrase.
Hot as hell is what it is. Made me wanna play a little bam-bam in the ham with him before he left. Unfortunately, my ham was left uncooked due to time constraints.
Something to look forward to for later, I suppose.
Unlike last time he went to do hot guy shit, I didn’t make him promise not to kill anyone. He already knows.
On the other hand, I made it clear I’m a-okay with Yev suffering a little before he’s turned over to the cops. If I left that nightmare house with bruised ribs, cigarette burns, belt marks, cuts, and bruises all over my body, Yev deserves some of the same. It’s only fair.
Aside from my right knee bobbing around like it’s powered by a jackhammer, my stomach is twisting and turning. It’s the kind of nausea where it’s uncomfortable to breathe. A permanent weight presses on the outside of my throat near my collarbones. This is maybe the fourth time today I’ve been hit with this.
Thoroughly ignoring why that may be the case.
The urge to chew my nails to the nubs is so compelling I tuck my hands under my legs to stop it.
When I catch myself sliding them out of their thigh prison, I shove them back and spin in the chair to distract myself.
On my third rotation, my eyes catch on the whiteboard filled with Redleg’s master plan. I dig my heel into the carpet to halt my twirling.
More items have been crossed off since I last gave it more than a fleeting glance. There are also plenty of new items up there—names, notes, circles, squiggly lines, and arrows. It reminds me of a playboard in a football team’s locker room.
Only this isn’t a game tossing the pigskin around. It’s a sickening tragedy. A repulsive infection in humanity that needs to be eradicated.
The columns across the top of the board are a testament to how the greatest fear humans should have is our fellow man. Men like this, at least.
So much evil for one family.
Why?
For what?
Money? Power? Or do they simply enjoy making people suffer?
Do men like Viktor and his father, Nikolai, go their entire lives lacking a functioning conscience?
Even without the trafficking, any one of the other categories is horrid on its own—drugs, guns, money laundering, cyber-attacks, and whatever internal crimes covers. I’d wager a guess, but I’m already queasy.
The entire picture of what the Lenkov Bratva does is repugnant. Despicable beyond measure. I can’t even come up with some of my colorful Lettie-isms to describe it, which speaks volumes.
My vision catches on two words—the box. I glance at Mia and Klein to determine which of them might be more likely to talk to me. Klein appears more intense, as if he’s working overtime to concentrate. Mia, on the other hand, is calm. Serene almost. Her fingers fly over the keys faster than a hawk hunting a snake in the tall summer grass.
Snakes. Shudder .
They’re almost as bad as the damn lizards that hang around every sidewalk and patch of nature in Florida. Constant jump scares every time I dare to walk to my car. That’s one thing I wasn’t prepared for when I came here.
Well, that and basically everything else.
“Mia, what’s the box ?”
Her fingers freeze, and she pitches a glance at me over her shoulder. Before she answers, her vision rapidly drops to my jittery knee. I willfully halt the comforting tic.
“Tomer didn’t ask you about that?”
I shake my head while answering, “He was supposed to?”
“Yeah. Did he?”
“Um.” Carefully, I peel back my memories of the last few days, one layer at a time. Many moments are hazy at best, which is typical for me and my top-tier brain. “No. What was he supposed to ask?”
I’m hit with a memory of Tasha’s hidey hole in the hell house. Surely, that can’t be the box listed on the grease board, though. Right?
If it is, that explains why he wouldn’t have brought it up. He’s seen me triggered too many times, and his protective nature likely makes him cautious of what he says around me. Not to mention, he’s been doing a million different things for this entire case. He’s only human. How much can one man handle?
Mia’s face perks up like she’s been struck with a bug zapper. “Is there any chance you’d be open to letting us ask you some questions about your time in the house?”
My tongue pokes the inside of my cheek as I feign annoyance. “Do you often answer questions with questions?”
She and Klein catch eyes for a brief second before she focuses on me. A playful grin dances across her features. “The box...” She glances at him once more, and this time, her gaze lingers longer. The peaks of her brows arch faintly.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was seeking his permission. My suspicion is confirmed a breath later when he lowers his chin in a swift nod.
Mia immediately launches into an explanation. “There was a box inside the house. Shoebox-sized.” She holds her hands out in front of her to approximate the shape.
Does she think I don’t know what a shoe box is?
“Tasha’s box?”
She shrugs, adding, “When Tomer and Shep visited Savin and his girlfriend before they entered WITSEC, Savin told Tomer exactly where to find it. And he went there to get it, but none of us know what it means. Now that Savin’s off the grid, it’s a blank spot for us. Any chance you know why he’d want us to have it?”
“No clue.” My mind sorts through all she said. “That must have been the night Tomer burned—” I cut myself off mid-sentence.
Mother of Macaulay Culkin . I almost ratted him out for arson.
Mia’s expression flashes with devilish charm, eyes twinkling and mouth rounding. “Don’t worry. I’m well aware of what he did. And I don’t blame him one bit. In fact, I’m the one who wiped the cell tower data to ensure Shep and Tomer’s phones weren’t pinged in the area. I also helped him purge nearby traffic cam footage from that night.”
Aww . She’s a great teammate for my guy.
“Impressive,” I admit. “Kri was right when she said you were good.”
“Mia’s the fucking best,” Klein chimes in, suddenly entering the conversation. “By the way, we’re five mikes out.”
He leans close, capturing her lips in a chaste kiss. When he pulls back, they make goo-goo eyes at each other for a hot minute, causing a high-pitched laugh to crawl up from the depths of my belly. “I can’t believe I—” I snicker into my hand, hoping I can stop this silliness before my new boss comes in and sees me cackling like a hyena.
It’s not even that funny. No clue why I’m this amused.
Gah . Stress and tension release, most likely.
Wearing a smile as wide as the day is long, Mia asks, “What’s gotten into you, girl?”
Still fighting back the mirth, I drag my palm over my forehead and flop my head onto the chair back. “Before all this shit happened, I thought Tomer was cheating on me with you.”
“With which one of us?” Klein asks from behind a dopey grin.
I level the joker with a teasing glare. “ Duh . Obviously with you,” I jest. “It’s so silly because I look at you two together, and Tomer wouldn’t have had a shot even if he wanted one. Which now I know he doesn’t.”
I tap my purple necklace.
My collar.
Still feels weird to say it, even internally. It’s an odd feeling to have this on all the time. Not in a bad way, but in a million years, I’d have never thought something like a collar—what we put on animals’ necks—would mean so much to me. But it’s so damn sweet to feel claimed by him. And the promises he made when he gave it to me were everything I never knew I needed.
Speaking of animals, a sudden rumble comes from Klein. Is he... is he growling ?
Mia rolls her eyes with a flourish. “Ignore him, Lettie. He suffers from an incredibly sexy form of jealousy.”
My eyes flash wide, and my lips part.
She adds, “It’s a little ironic that you felt that way because Klein did too.” She reaches under the desk and squeezes his upper thigh. “Same as I told him a million times, I’ll tell you too. Tomer is like a big brother to me. We just clicked, but it’s not anything beyond friendship. There was never any attraction. Just a mutual appreciation of the other’s skills. As a hacker, there aren’t too many people who understand how my brain works. I think it was the same for him.” She lowers her voice to emphasize her point. “Neither of you have anything to worry about.”
“Oh, I know that now . Back then, things were a little bizarre. In retrospect, I believe it was a case of him hiding other things which are now out in the open.” Realizing I’m oversharing again, I snap my mouth closed.
One sweet day, I’ll learn to stop while I’m ahead.
Today is not that day.
They turn around to face their computers. My knee resumes bouncing as the SUVs pull into a neighborhood, slowing their speed.
Mia rolls out her neck and cracks her knuckles. “It won’t be long now.”
Automatically, I finish her sentence, “Said the cat when they cut off his tail.”
They chuckle but keep their focus on their monitors.
I scoot my chair closer for a better view. On one of the side screens, Klein types out a note in an instant messenger program, letting Big Al know that the team has arrived at their destination. I saw Peggy use that program a few times today.
The nausea that’s plagued me all day reaches new heights, and I swallow aggressively to force my saliva down. My eyes skim around the room, searching for some candy or water. No luck. I glance from the various computer screens to the door, calculating whether I have enough time to run to the break room.
My decision is made for me when one SUV stops, and a few guys exit the vehicle, quickly huddling by the trunk.No time.
“Is that the view from the drone?” I ask, pointing toward a screen displaying the neighborhood from above.
Klein grins at me over his shoulder, waggling his brows. “Yeah. It’s my toy.”
“You’re controlling it from here?”
“Yep. While you and Mia were talking, I flew ahead to ensure the coast was clear and help them pick a place to park.”
He points toward the screen on the right of his computer. “Target is inside the third house from the left. One row up from where Henderson just parked bravo team.”
“They didn’t stop in front of the house?”
“No,” Mia answers. “They’re splitting into two teams. One will enter from the back and the other from the front. Parking directly in front would blow the element of surprise.”
I zero in on the large monitor that shows the feeds from their body cams, searching for Tomer’s view.
Big Al hustles into the room, immediately locking his focus on the monitors. “Oh good. I’m not too late. Status report.”
Klein tips his head toward Mia, and she begins rattling off an update. “Alpha team is parking now. That’s Tomer, Sawyer, and Aaron. They’re a few structures away from the target’s location and will breach the front door. Bravo team is Jonesy, Shep, and Henderson, and they parked on the street behind the residence. They’ll infill through the back patio door. We’re about to do an infrared drone scan.”
Klein addresses the teams through the comm system. “Bravo team, hold at the rear property line. Alpha, proceed to the front property line.”
Through Jonesy’s camera, I make out the other two guys from bravo team. They sink into a squat near the ground beside a fence. I can see the house from their vantage point. Nothing special. Just a basic, cookie-cutter Florida home. Similar to most of the others in the neighborhood.
My mouth dries, and my pulse spikes as I envision what it’ll be like to watch them enter and come face-to-face with Yev.
Following the feed on Tomer’s camera, his team has exited their vehicle and is approaching as Klein ordered. It looks like Tomer’s in the front of the pack. I don’t like that at all. Based on the twitching and cramping, my stomach doesn’t like it either.
Not that I want any of them to get hurt. But knowing he’s ahead of the others makes him a bigger target if bullets fly.
My teeth clamp down on my lower lip, and I tug in a deep breath through my nose to try to quell the rising nausea and anxiety.
Again, Klein directs the teams. “Alpha team, hold by that large oak tree near the blue vehicle. I’m scanning the structure with infrared.”
The view on the drone changes like an Instagram filter. I see our guys in the front and back of the house as reddish-orange figures as the camera lowers closer to the ground. He flies it over the roof in a large circular motion.
Mia and Klein whisper back and forth. She appears to be checking a schematic of the house, comparing it to the drone footage.
“Tango in the living room,” she tells him.
Klein reports it to the teams. “Only one tango inside. He’s in the living room, approximately three feet inside the door, on your two o’clock position. He’s seated. Looks like a reclining chair. Based on positioning, alpha team will apprehend the tango. Bravo team, you will sweep the house to ensure we didn’t miss anyone. The hallway will be on your right when you enter from the rear of the structure. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms to clear. Both teams, confirm.”
“Alpha copies,” Tomer answers next. Hearing his voice sends my stomach into a tizzy.
Hold it together, Lettie.
“Bravo copies,” a voice calls back. I’m guessing Shep because of that cocky tone he favors.
I avert my eyes to ground myself, doing some of the breathing tactics Simone taught me.
Big Al hovers behind Mia and Klein, his intelligent eyes rotating from screen to screen. His broad arms are crossed at his chest, displaying the tattoos running down his arms. It’s the first time I’ve seen them since he’s usually in a long-sleeved shirt or has his denim jacket on.
Happy for the distraction, I study him like a creeper, noticing a colorful floral print tattoo on the underside of his forearm. It strikes me as odd for such a tough guy. If I ever get the chance to talk to him about more than work shit, I’ll ask him about it. Until then, theories will begin running amuck.
Is it for his mother? Is she alive? Does she know she has a granddaughter?Will I ever meet her?
Or is the tattoo for a different loved one? Some type of cause that’s personal to him? Or does he just like flowers? Does he garden? Did he want to be a florist when he grew up but ended up a military badass?
All possible, yet mostly improbable.
More likely . . .
It might bein memory of a woman he lost. My mother, perhaps?
Nah . Probably not. He already told me she was a casual fling for him. The more focus I put on that, the ickier it feels. At first, it didn’t bother me. As it’s steeped, my opinion has waffled. A tad.
I wonder what my mother thought of him. Did she love him? Did he break her heart?
At some point, I’ll need to confront my grandmama-mama about this whole mess. Why did she lie to me all my life? What was she hiding?
And can she tell me how my mother felt about this big broody guy beside me? Was I truly conceived out of... a reckless moment? Just sex with no feelings? No love at all?
“Any 911 calls?” Big Al asks, snapping my focus back to the mission.
“No, Boss,” Mia answers in a clipped tone.
How does she know that? And why would anyone have called 911? Nothing has happened yet.
It’s killing me not to ask, but I bet if I start yapping at them, someone will kick me out of here. Plus, I don’t want to distract them since what they’re doing is important to ensuring the safety of the man I love.
Unable to stand the bouncing of my knee, I bend one leg, tucking it under myself. Shoving with the other foot, I resume twisting my chair back and forth in tiny movements. My jitters must be noticeable because Big Al glances over at me with his brows raised in silent question.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, hoping to assuage his concern.
Play it cool, Lettie. You don’t want him to kick you out.
Or try to.
Let’s be real. If he did, I’d just spy again from the door like I did earlier. Unless he closes it.
He glances back at the screens where Klein is doing another pass around the house with the drone.
I halt my chair twirling to swap legs, putting my left under me and pressing off the ground with my right foot.
Again, Boss Dad notices. And this time, he doesn’t hold back his comment.“Are you sure you can watch this?”
“Yes. It’s not all nerves. I have ADHD, so I rarely sit still even under the best of circumstances.”
Not totally untrue. It’s a bit worse now for obvious reasons, but the chair spinning and knee bouncing are quite common. Often not simultaneously, though.
Some of that kindness I’ve glimpsed in him a few times before makes a brief appearance. “If this gets to be too much, just say the word. No shame in leaving.”
I wrinkle my nose, then bite back my snark about how I’ve seen far worse than what’s about to happen. Instead, I remind him of what I told him earlier. “Thank you. But I want to see this guy get what’s coming to him.”
He lowers his chin, then shifts his focus back to the mission, his face waxing over.“Let’s move along, team. Mia, are you good to go?”
“10-4. Neighborhood secure. No calls to 911 to report our presence. No phone calls in or out of the house from the tango. Clear to proceed.”
Ah . That’s what she was checking for earlier. Makes sense. If I peeked out my window in the afternoon and saw a pack of SWAT guys approaching, I might call too.
From what I heard earlier when I was... listening without explicit permission , they didn’t want to wait until night because he was such a flight risk. The car they caught him driving to the store was parked inside the garage, so they couldn’t put a tracker on it. The longer they waited, the greater the potential for shit to go wrong or more people to arrive.
“Klein?” Big Al asks.
“All clear on my end,” he replies.
Boss Dad unfolds his arms and shifts his stance. “Check in with team leads. If they’re good, then count it down.”
Following his directions, Klein asks each team lead if they’re ready. Both answer affirmative .
I get a dash of excitement when I hear Tomer’s voice. He’s so focused. Confident and determined. Damn. That’s hot. Plus, I always get hot when he’s in military mode. That’s been the case since he first told me he was in military intelligence all those months ago. My sexy soldier.
As Klein counts them off,Kri bustles into the lair, closing the door behind her. “Did I miss it?”
“Breaching now,” Big Al answers without taking his eyes off the screen or fists off his hips.
She grabs a chair from the table, rolling it up beside me. Keeping her volume low and vision on the op, she leans close. “You okay? Didn’t think I’d see you in here.”
“I want to watch that shitbag go down,” I whisper back, balling my fidgeting hands into fists.
Most of my anxiety has morphed into anger. While I’m still nervous for Tomer and the team, I can tell how seriously they’re taking this. The scan of the house Klein did with the drone helped calm my fears too. Knowing only one man is inside, and six military guys on the outside goes a long way to reassuring me that it’ll be fine. I suppose all that leaves is hatred of Yev to fester inside me.
Kri reaches over and takes my hand, weaving her fingers with mine. I spare a one-second glance at her. She’s nibbling her lower lip, tension showing in the lines of her pretty face. It makes me wonder if she’s holding my hand for my comfort or hers.
Maybe it’s both.
I pulse my grip as Tomer kicks open the front door. Looks like Shep did the same at the back. Bangs ring out, and flashing lights flicker.
Gasping audibly, I stiffen in the chair, my eyes frantically moving from screen to screen. For whatever reason, I press my free hand to my chest, where my heart’s about to thrash right through my rib cage.
“Flash-bang,” Kri whispers to me.
“What’s that?”
“Like a smoke bomb. It disorients them.”
“Oh. Okay.”
That’s good. I think.
What the hell do I know?
It’s hard to concentrate on any single screen and even harder to visually detect what’s happening because of all the smoke from the bang thing. With the audio from the six different perspectives and the drone zooming in from the backyard looking inside the house, there’s too much for me to focus on. My squirrel brain is freaking out, trying to absorb it all.
Sounds of a struggle reach my ears, then what might be slamming doors.
A gruff voice yells, “Hands where we can see them, Yev.”
It all happens so fast.
I seek out Tomer’s camera just in time to see his fist flying into a familiar, wretched face. They found Yev instantly, exactly where they expected him to be.
Tomer punches him again, this time in the throat by the look of it. Ouch .
My nausea comes rushing back, making me gag. I cup my neck to reassure my brain that my throat is just fine.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpse the other Redleg guys racing through the house, guns extended. They’re opening closets, checking behind doors, under beds, and behind shower curtains.
I recognize Shep’s voice calling out that his room is clear. Kri’s hand squeezes mine.
The guys provide a series of quick updates in much the same manner.
“Bedrooms on east side are clear.”
“Kitchen clear.”
“West bedroom and bathroom clear.”
“Dining room clear.”
Big Al taps the back of Mia’s chair. “Tell Sawyer to get ready.”
“10-4,” Mia responds, then clicks something on the console. “Sawyer, you’re up.”
“Copy that.”
Wait . What’s happening? He’s up for what?
My vision snaps on Sawyer’s body cam view. With a burst of speed, he returns to the living room, heading for the recliner where Tomer has Yev pinned beneath him. There’s a bit of a struggle.
Another Redleg guy works to restrain Yev’s legs with thick duct tape around the ankles.
“Easy, T,” Big Al whispers, despite not being on the comms.
My eyes refocus on Tomer’s vantage, giving me a close-up view of Yev’s beady eyes bulging and his face reddening.
Familiar hands grip his neck. Tightly.
Shit . Tomer’s choking him.
“Come on, babe,” I mumble.
On one hand, I’m happy to see Tomer get some of his anger out at an incredibly fitting target. And have no problem watching the suffering of that disgusting excuse for a human. In fact, it feels damn good.
But I don’t want Tomer to kill anyone. He doesn’t need that on his conscience.
It seems Big Al, Mia, and Sawyer discussed this possibility and are ready to intervene.
“Tomer, ease up,” Mia warns over the comms.
“I’m good,” he grits out, voice menacing but surprisingly controlled. “I’m not killing him. Not yet. I only want to ensure he knows how fucked he is before I knock him out.”
He loosens the hold on Yev’s neck. Out of nowhere, an elbow flies up toward Yev’s face, knocking him under the chin and flailing his head backward.
And he’s out cold.
Tomer stands, towering over Yev. His breaths are so raspy they sail through the speakers as loudly as the vocal updates everyone is hollering.
“Tango down,” Klein announces. “Sawyer and Henderson, retrieve the vehicles. Double time it. Prepare to exfil in 90 seconds.”
Those two run off.
As I watch Tomer tying Yev’s wrists and forearms behind him, it’s so familiar I want to laugh, but I hold it in. I know firsthand how good he is with ropes.
If it weren’t for this nauseating lump at the base of my throat, I’d probably have more than a dash of giddiness flowing through me.
They did it. They got him. No one got hurt. Except the one who deserves it.
“Still no calls to 911.” Mia shifts back in her chair, locking her hands behind her head. “Neighborhood clear. No panic alarms or anything. As soon as they leave, I’ll scan the cloud for any surveillance feeds that need wiping.”
Klein rolls out his shoulders. “Checking the perimeter with the drone.”
“Good job, team.” Big Al throws a grin at me. “See? All good.”
While I have his attention, I ask something I’ve been wondering. “Where are they taking Yev?”
“Back here for a little chat.”
Oh shit.
My breakfast threatens to reappear as my stomach plummets to the floor.
Remember when I said I was brave enough to face my attacker and smile?
Yeah. I’m not so sure about that now that it’s becoming a reality.