Chapter 3
SCOTTIE
Typical blond-haired, blue-eyed surfer type of guy , I thought, watching his broad back vanish under the tent flap. He was full of himself, and when things didn’t go his way, he jetted out of the situation as fast as lightning. Of course, it was just my luck this type of guy had to be a part of the SEAL team that the brass assigned me to.
“The fuck is his problem?” I seethed, staring at the tent flaps.
The eyes on the redheaded operator widened, and he took a physical step back, bumping into a man the size of a grown bear.
“Don’t mind him. He’s got trust issues when it comes to women. He’ll come around,” one of the four remaining men said, responding with a slight hesitancy in his voice. Dark skin surrounded narrow eyes as it hit me that his gaze had yet to leave my face.
“Brash reaction for simple trust issues,” I grumbled, my stomach churning with annoyance as they all seemed to finally find their feet.
“Well, none of us were expecting…you,” he continued and grabbed the rucksack that blondie had dropped.
“Why? The colonel said he would be introducing my file to you guys before we met.” I tracked each and every one of them, studying as they all snatched up the bedrolls shoved against the walls of the tent and unraveled them in groupings of two as far as they could get away from me. Once again, I was a pariah, and they’d met me less than three minutes ago.
Typical. Why I’d ever thought things would be different outside of sniper school was immediately lost in the blind rage rolling through my veins.
“He did,” the redhead answered. His beady green eyes shot up to mine, a flash of shame coursing through them.
Frustration filtered through my body, and I turned away, feeling their stares like a thousand tiny mice crawling across my skin. Inhaling deeply, I crouched down beside my bed roll and dusted sand off the desert camouflage sniper case stuck to the side of the pad.
The silence was heavy, laying upon the entire atmosphere in the tent and with every breath drawn, it became more difficult to bear. They’d been chattering loudly as they approached the tent—I’d been able to hear them. So, the absolute stillness now was encumbering. The teeth of zippers sliced across their packs. The sound of feet shuffling throughout the tent met my ears.
Yet not a word was spoken. Whatever shock forced the blond one out seemed to be weighing on all of them.
A sudden race of shivers snapped up my spine and I spun around. Four sets of eyes darted away, looking at everything but me. Deliberately.
Maybe they already knew.
“Sooooo,” the redheaded one finally spoke, breaking the sludge around us. He knew they’d been caught staring. His green eyes returned to me, and I took the opportunity to quickly study him. Average height, red hair, rough around the edges despite a calm disposition. “I’m Bernie. Explosives officer.”
The rest of the team stopped moving and glanced at Bernie. But no one else said anything.
Inhaling deeply, I simply nodded once, scrunched my forehead, and knew I needed out. “I’m gonna get some fresh air,” I stated bluntly and, without a backward glance, ducked out of the tent. The tension immediately dissipated as I slowly wandered away from what was supposed to be my team—people who would risk their lives for me—over these next several months.
And I knew immediately that the moment they learned my nickname from sniper school, I’d be permanently scarred with it as a call sign. So, one teammate already didn’t trust me, and the rest what? Didn’t like me? Why? What had I done to earn such quick animosity?
Grunting reverberated in the clear sky, growing nearer as I walked around a corner of tents and emerged at the outdoor, makeshift gym and training area. Several men occupied duct-taped punching bags, sweat dripping down their shirts. Rusty barbells and plates probably weighing different amounts than what their labels read, clanged with the movement of other men lying on weight benches or ripping an absurd amount of weight from the ground. Crowded, as it should be, while every soldier—and now this SEAL team—waited for their next set of orders.
However, while my heart wanted to take me over to a barbell and work through the frustration, instead my attention was drawn to a couple men sparring off to the side. To one particular blond-haired man. He stood out as he wrapped an arm around his opponent’s neck and flipped him to the ground like he was nothing more than a paperclip to brush off a cluttered desk. An aura of calm surrounded him despite the violent nature of his training. His every movement seemed deliberate and calculated as the muscles beneath his shirt rippled while the fabric clung to his steel-cut frame.
I’d seen hand-to-hand combat before, but this was something else. It was effortless. He was in control even while fighting three different guys at once.
Inching around the edge of the fitness area, the garbled shouting between them became clearer the closer I got.
“Don’t dive in wild like that,” Blondie calmly said as he wrapped a hand around a fist barreling toward him. Instead of parrying it away, he caught it and pulled it closer to him, jerking the man into his body. “Leaves you open for this,” he growled, his voice low and much less lackadaisical than I’d expected it to be. And within a flurry of limbs and camouflage uniforms, Blondie was straddling the unsuspecting soldier, with the tip of a knife pressed against his throat.
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a distinct swallow, dipping against the blade as he lie on the ground, his eyes widening with the knowledge that he would’ve been dead had this been something more than training. He didn’t say a thing as Blondie slowly slid off the guy and stood up, sheathing the knife back against his belt. My teammate’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, broad shoulders supporting a thick neck. And his blue eyes could be seen a mile away sliding across the compound, stopping as they connected with mine.
Every muscle in his body stiffened. A few casual voices called out to him, and he offered friendly nods without removing his narrowed gaze from me. His brow ridge, more prominent than I’d noticed previously, darkened the intensity around his eyes, and his thin lips pulled tight, proportionate with his wide, square jawline. Deep shadows carved out beneath his ears accentuated how intensely broad his face was. Honestly, it suited him as he rolled his shoulders as if brushing off hot coals from a fire he wasn’t in control of.
I shouldn’t have stared at him like I was, but I couldn’t help it. Everyone around him approached casually, as if he was already friends with them despite just arriving here. They all seemed to know him, and he was open and kind to them. Offering a smile that brought faint dimples to his cheeks.
To hell with trust issues. He’d reacted with such a blunt expression upon seeing me, whatever fa?ade he put on for everyone else wouldn’t fool me. His response to our first encounter was more than likely his true personality. Either way, I would do my job, but opening up to any one of these so-called “team members” would not happen.
Shaking my head, I glanced away and locked eyes with someone who seemed vaguely familiar standing with a couple other soldiers at the edge of the gym. Short, rather skinny, his hard eyes dull and hollow. “Look who it is!” he shouted, his voice similar to a mouse, drawing the attention of the men training around him. “Nice to see you again, Squib!” Eyes all around darted toward me, sending a shiver down my spine that ignited the fuse of anger I’d held at bay for so long.
Squib.
He said it. He voiced it.
Shit. I knew him. Sergeant Alex Reyes. From sniper school. The very one who coined the nickname. And somehow he was here.
“Hey Squib, wanna join me for some poker tonight?” he shouted again, silencing even more of the soldiers separating us.
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Go fuck yourself!” I shouted back.
“Is that what you picture late at night, when you’re all alone?” He grinned, and one of the guys with him clapped him on the back.
Swallowing stiffly, I tore my eyes away from Alex, annoyed beyond hell, desperate for an escape, and nearly fell over. A zap raced up my spine at how close Blondie was standing next to me. The smell of his warm sweat hung in the air, a scent I wasn’t even sure what to call. In fact, it intrigued me, though I knew that eventually any hint of sweetness to it would disappear the longer we were out here. His piercing blue eyes, swirling like a frozen lake in the moonlight, stared directly at Alex.
“Who the hell is he calling ‘squib’?” he muttered, his brows creasing as he pulled them together.
Looking away from Blondie, my shoulders raised to my ears involuntarily, but I kept my mouth closed. My rage was not directed at him.
Okay, at least not all of it at this moment.
“And what the fuck does he mean by ‘squib’?” my new companion added.
Sighing, I closed my eyes. “You know? Like Damp Squib? Something that is disappointing because it is not as exciting or effective as expected?”
Blondie’s attention shifted to me without moving his body. His sharp eyes studied me for a moment, assessing me in a way that I didn’t understand, and then a smirk briefly crossed his face. “How do you two know each other?” he asked, either ignoring my explanation or agreeing with it.
I pulled my lips into a thin line. Of course he figured it out. Damn it.
“Sniper school.” I glanced at him through slitted lids. “And if you so much as say a word about that to anyone else, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Blondie faced me entirely and lifted a single, snarky brow.
“I can handle myself.” As I spun sideways, my chest nearly bumped into him, and a mischievous grin lifted on his lips.
“Oooo, you got me shaking in my boots.” He faked a shiver, and I rolled my eyes.
“You’re an ass. Leave me alone,” I grumbled and twisted away, scanning the crowd. Reyes and his buddies were gone.
A low chuckle left his chest. “There it is.”
Confused, I stitched my brows together. “What do you mean, there it is?”
“Surprised you’re not more mad considering my reaction from earlier. You’re welcome to call me any sort of name you’d like; ass ain’t that bad.”
“I’m not willing to sink as low as you,” I remarked with speed, looking back at him, and his eyes darkened with something I couldn’t place.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You don’t know me either,” he answered in kind.
I studied him for a moment, allowing my gaze to track across every chiseled feature of this man who stood a little over six feet tall. Not the most muscular guy I’d ever come across, but still muscular, and they were hardened from use—very particular, specific use. He was athletic—built to be deadly.
“Mikey,” he said, breaking the silence. His name. An introduction that had me swimming in a pool of the unknown.
“Scottie,” I replied without much inflection.
“The colonel didn’t mention you were a girl.” Whatever smooth casualness had coated his friendly face a moment ago slipped away beneath a mask that seemed too calculating for me to be comfortable with. The hairs on my neck stood up, raising every wall possible. I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of him. Not yet anyway, and he didn’t seem to get me either.
Not that I cared. Right?
“Is that why you acted like such a tool?” I finally asked, facing him again. “And it’s woman, not girl.”
He threw his hands up, turning his palms toward me in defense. “Didn’t want to make you feel old.”
“Oh? So, you’re not sexist at all?” Man, was he irritating, and the likelihood of him ending up sleeping closest to me was very high on the list of possibilities since everyone else picked a spot farther away.
“Not gonna lie, you being a woman isn’t exactly offering me a lot of confidence in not dying out there. Plus, you’ve never been out on an actual combat tour.” His words were slow. As if he’d chosen each one specifically to gauge my reaction. And it took everything in me to hold my tongue. I wanted to lash out, but that would serve no purpose at this moment.
“That’s what’s got you worried? Not wondering why that guy called me ‘squib’?” I quirked a brow and took a deep breath. “There’s nothing else at all?”
He tipped his head back and forth. “Just that. And the fact that you and Dom are gonna both stick out against this very light-tan, sandy background.” A smile twitched at the edges of his lips. Whiplash. One moment he seemed so casual, the next he grilled me, dug at me, and now… What was he doing? But I was not about to back down from whatever twisted game he was playing.
I’d dealt with enough cocky fools since enlisting. He was just another one of them.
“Oh, I get it.” I stepped toward him and poked him in the chest, ignoring how closing that space between us perched him like a towering statue above me. “You’re jealous that I can probably outshoot you and won’t burn like a cherry tomato out here with my beautiful, brown skin.”
He tipped his chin down. His gaze fanned a strange fire roaring deep within my core. “I turn a beautiful golden sheen, never burn, only tan, I’ll have you know.”
“So, why are you out here and not surfing on some beach getting that golden sheen of a tan?”
“Got bored of that. I needed something new. Something…harder.” He raised a brow, and the sticky warmth of the sun had no room to blaze between us. Its heat matched whatever strange stand-off we were toeing in. His shadow swallowed mine whole. I could’ve sworn he felt my heart pounding against my ribcage.
Because I was annoyed.
Right?
“What you’re saying is you don’t stick to anything for too long?” My voice cracked and he noticed, answering with a chuckle.
Ugh… of course he noticed.
“What I’m saying is I’m not scared of a little challenge.” His voice lowered. “I like to think I’m pretty good at winning a difficult fight. They’re more fun.”
I couldn’t seem to swallow. I couldn’t seem to breathe as he remained this towering stone figure in front of me.
He sized me up, challenging me to step and fall into whatever easygoing offer that everyone else around him seemed to take. I had to assume his entire goal was to make me feel comfortable enough to open up to him. And quickly.
But I was not someone who gave in easily, no matter how charming a man could be.
“Hey, Johnson!” a voice shouted through the haze that had encompassed me, suddenly reminding me that we weren’t alone.
Immediately, I shot away as Mikey casually shifted his gaze to the approaching figure. “Sir?” he responded, his face shifting like a butterfly coming out of metamorphosis. Whatever mischievous gleam that had sparkled in his ocean-blue irises was gone, replaced with a calculating intensity that sent a shiver up my spine.
“Glad you’re here too, Corporal,” the approaching soldier said, quickly acknowledging me. “Intel came in, time to gear up. Chopper will be in the air in five.”
And a blaze roared hot in Mikey’s eyes as my stomach plummeted beneath my boots.