Chapter 8
SCOTTIE
His massive, calloused thumb slammed down on top of mine—again. “Rematch! Now!” I demanded. We were both lying prone, facing each other. Something more casual had settled over us, and for the first time since learning what my assignment was going to be, I felt a modicum of calm.
“You really think, after I’ve won every round so far, this time will be different?” he asked, releasing my thumb from beneath his. As rough as sandpaper, as strong as steel, his fingers clung to mine like it was the last thing keeping him here—keeping him grounded.
“Absolutely.” I tapped to the side of his hand. “One.”
“Two.” He moved his thumb to the side of mine.
“Three, four, I declare a thumb war!” I blurted out and attempted to ram my thumb on top of his before he had a chance to move it out of the way.
It obviously didn’t work.
“Can I ask something more personal? And you won’t get…mad?” I hesitantly questioned as our thumbs wrestled. He was purposefully going easy, dragging out this battle, as over and over again, I managed to evade his maneuvers.
His tongue flicked out, running across his lips. “Depends.”
Drawing in a breath for encouragement, silence settled calmly between us. “Your tattoos,” I slowly began, breaking the gentle serenity. He didn’t look up from our clasped hands. Not a sound passed his mouth that briefly drew my gaze. Maybe I’d misjudged him initially. “Other than the one on your shoulder, why are they only around your abdomen or lower back?”
His thumb faltered, this time not on purpose, and I slipped mine out from beneath his without much force. “The Greek statue and mythology theme is really cool, except… I mean, I know I only saw them briefly once, but—”
“But you’re extremely observant,” he finished for me. Not with the exact words I had planned to use, but that was the gist of it.
“Hazard of my training,” I said, hoping to provide him with whatever reassurance he needed. His blond lashes ducked over his eyes, hiding his piercing irises from sight.
And he stopped moving, pulling his hand from my own. Shifting upright, he sat back on his heels and stared over my head. Still, not a word slipped off his tongue. His expression fell, drowning in memories that I almost regretted asking about.
At least he didn’t get mad, but whatever my question ignited in him twisted his rather unexpectedly intense and handsome features with pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered and pushed myself up to my feet. Twisting my hair back up into the bun, I paused. He didn’t move. His eyes remained forward, unblinking, not reacting to my presence in the room. “I’ll let you be,” I added, waiting for another half a second for him to do something, anything. But his chest barely moved as if breathing was no longer a requirement for him.
And just as I turned to leave the tent, the flap flew open and in walked Bernie. “Hello, you two, what’s going on…here…?” His voice began chipper and teasing as always, but as his eyes settled on Mikey’s still figure, the brightness softened. “He okay?”
My eyes remained on Mikey, tracing the outline of his frame. Hardened. Burdened. A mystery to yet unfold. “I asked him about his tattoos,” I quietly muttered, and Bernie closed his eyes.
“Let’s go grab some air, maybe clean our rifles.” Bernie immediately slammed a hand around my arm, spun on his heel, and dragged me out of the tent.
“What are you doing?” I asked, prying his fingers off my skin. Stumbling over my feet, Bernie didn’t budge as he pulled me farther and farther away from Mikey and our sleeping quarters. Weaving around tents, past chatting soldiers and a couple men fighting in the dirt, he finally stopped.
“Mikey doesn’t talk about them. Ever. And we don’t ask,” Bernie bluntly stated, finally letting me go. He faced me. Not an ounce of humor coated his face. The sun had already chipped away at his cheeks, turning them pink, but the red blooming across his skin had more to do with my question than the rays beating down upon him.
“Why not?” I asked, digging my heels in.
Bernie pulled his lips into a thin line and his green eyes darkened beneath his brows. “I just said we don’t ask. Mikey didn’t exactly have the greatest childhood, and anytime you ask him about it, that happens. So, just…don’t ask.”
“He got tattoos before he was eighteen? His parents were okay with that?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“His parents…” Bernie ran his hand over his jaw and shook his head. “That’s for Mikey to tell you. Now, gym or weapons? Pick.”
As I clamped my teeth together, Bernie’s gaze darted over my shoulder. Following his line of sight, I knew why he immediately changed the subject. Mikey walked our way. The brightness in his eyes wasn’t quite back, but he was moving.
“Gym. I’m still trying to get Mikey to spill how he got his call sign,” I quipped, hoping that Mikey would hear that and forget I’d asked about his tattoos. A tight smile pulled onto Blondie’s face and relief flooded my senses. He’d heard.
And didn’t seem too upset…
“So, you’re up for squats now?” Mikey asked, lightheartedly joining us. Bernie didn’t say a thing, nor did Mikey about what had happened. Not even a look was shared between the two. As if it never happened, neither of them acknowledged the strange situation.
“Well, I lost at a thumb war, several times, so I’ve gotta try something else!” I teased, attempting to distract my own mind from the question blooming into several more questions by each passing second.
Bernie leaned his head back and cackled. “And you think you’ll beat Mikey in squats? Griffin was the only one who managed to out squat this guy. He’s got that sleeper build, I’ll tell you. Though, I’ve got him on bench.” He grinned.
Mikey shook his head. “By like five pounds. And I’m coming for you quickly.”
“Shit,” I mumbled. “How about that arm wrestle, then?”
Bernie clutched his stomach, doubling over in laughter like it was obvious. “Even worse of a fucking idea than squats.”
Narrowing my gaze, I shot a glare at Mikey. “You wanted me to fail. Didn’t you?”
His eyes sparkled as a crooked grin tightened the dimples in his cheeks. “Hell yeah.”
“Well, fuck you, Blondie.” And I flipped him off.
He chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated low in his chest, and fanned a flame pooling in my core. My skin prickled, goosebumps snapping across my entire figure as a chill ran down my spine.
I liked that sound. I wanted to hear it again. And more so, I wanted him to laugh like that with my body pressed against his so I could feel it. To be devoured by every part of him as he laughed. That desire rushed through me like an all-consuming fire that was out of control. And my figure was drowning in his ocean eyes.
A guttural sound left Bernie’s throat, snapping me out of the brief trance I’d been caught in. “You want to hear the story? I’ll tell you what fucking happened,” Bernie offered. Yet Mikey had not looked away, keeping whatever small hold over my gaze latched onto his.
“Sure,” I mumbled, not really sure how that word left my own mouth. Mikey’s chest expanded slowly, broadening his already wide shoulders. His lips parted half a centimeter and mine mirrored his movement on their own.
Bernie, whether actually oblivious to what was happening silently between Mikey and me or choosing to be, he clamped a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “It was our first mission with this guy as a tier one operator. He snuck up on a target and wrapped an arm around the combatant, locking the enemy to his chest.”
Mikey slowly tipped his head, his eyes searing into my soul, and for whatever reason, I didn’t try to stop him from staring.
“Another damn insurgent caught the tail end of Mikey dragging his buddy backwards, so he ran after them. Anyway, next thing I know, Mikey’s surrounded by three assailants while keeping the fourth fucker locked to his chest. The three engage Mikey, they all get in a fight. I’m trying to set a fucking explosive while watching all these damn limbs flying, punches being thrown. You know, all the shit that he clearly does best. All of a sudden, Mikey bites down on the target’s throat. He fucking bites him and rips a chunk out of his neck.” Bernie grins as a wave of unexplainable heat races through my body.
“Like a snake attacking. Like a Viper,” I finished, and Bernie nodded.
“Exactly. Anyway, I never heard such a horrifying scream. Mikey’s got all this fucking blood around his mouth and he grins. Mikey fucking grins, Crow. I’m so distracted from what I’m supposed to be doing ’cause here’s this damn new member of our team, who ripped a dude’s fucking throat apart by his teeth, grinning like a madman.”
Mikey shrugged his shoulders, finally peeling his eyes away from me. “My hands were already occupied. What else was I supposed to fucking do?”
Bernie cackled, drawing attention from a couple passing soldiers. “Fair point.”
“You’re being serious,” I said, not sure if it was shock and awe or merely disbelief over the story.
“Damn serious,” Bernie finished. He wiggled his brows as an image of Mikey gone mad, grinning like the joker with blood all over his mouth and teeth flashed through my head.
“Well, shit. And you still kissed your mom after, with that dirty mouth of yours?” I teased.
Mikey casually tipped his head back. “Well, she’s dead. So, no.”
Silence.
Stillness surrounded us like death had arrived to take me away.
“Breathe, Scottie,” Mikey gently urged. “It’s not a big deal, trust me.”
I gulped down oxygen as Bernie shook his head. “Way to freak out the newbie.” He shot a glare at Mikey, but that ever present hint of humor raked behind his gaze.
“I’m not—”
“What in the hell are you three doing out here?” Colonel Duke’s voice drowned out my own words. All of us turned our heads to look at the very man walking our way.
“Sir?” Bernie questioned, his casualness immediately being masked by the same intensity that covered Mikey’s face.
“I’m asking why you shitheads aren’t grabbing some sleep. I don’t know when the next intel will come in and you’ll be needed. You’ve been back long enough that I doubt there’s much adrenaline left, so why are you not resting before I decide you need to train or head out?” he explained, stopping in front of us and crossing his arms. “I caught the other half of your team passed out in the chow hall and hoped you were smarter than them.”
“Just on our way there right now, Colonel,” Mikey responded without missing a beat.
“I damn sure hope so.” He lifted an accusatory brow.
And if those words had never been spoken, I doubted I would’ve even considered sleep. There had been something roaring through my body hiding any hint of exhaustion, as if it didn’t exist at all.
Until now.
Like those mortars that crashed into the building earlier, I nearly collapsed to the ground in a heap of limbs and fatigue.
“I need your team ready at a moment’s notice, so go,” the colonel emphasized.
My eyelids blinked slowly, heavily. Even Mikey and Bernie seemed to have flipped a switch in their own bodies as their shoulders drooped.
Rest, that sounded really nice…
Tracking back along the pathway Bernie had dragged me across earlier felt never ending. My feet barely moved, and neither of my companions talked as we shuffled back to our tent. How long had we been up for anyway? Over forty plus hours, at least.
And the others passing out in the chow hall explained why Mikey and I had ended up alone for so long. Bernie must have been returning to sleep when he walked in on what had happened.
It all made sense. What didn’t make sense was how I’d managed to go so long with a clear head. Not enough caffeine in the world could’ve provided the adrenaline-fueled clarity that I’d existed in for days.
Mikey was right. Lifting my blurry gaze to the man walking silently beside me, it made sense. Training was nothing like what we’d just experienced, and fear coursed thick through the sludge of weariness.
Fear that the moment I closed my eyes, I’d dream of nothing but the fact that I’d delivered death to three people today.
Targets.Three targets.
Three…
Targets…?