Chapter 15
SCOTTIE
Nobody asked a thing about yesterday. Not even Mikey asked me anything more after my meltdown, and for whatever reason, I was torn on how I felt about it. Part of me was grateful he seemed to trust me enough to handle my own shit. The other part wished he’d at least attempted to pry more.
But Bernie’s words the moment we met rang heavily in my ears: Mikey was not one to trust easily. While Mikey had let slip he had an ex-fiancée, the intensely mistrusting root ran much deeper than just that.
Cool metal slipped fresh beneath my palms as I sat on a table with my sniper rifle sprawled out in pieces in front of me. Hot sun blazed down on the desert as the rest of the team was lifting in the outdoor gym to my left. All the jabs at jokes tossed around seemed an empty attempt to avoid speaking about the questions that none of us had answers to.
While the impending attack we’d disappeared during had been easily diverted by the platoons remaining at the combat outpost, our mission had gone sideways before it’d even begun. That was twice now we’d failed, and while I was new to the team, I’d heard stories from the other soldiers about this specific SEAL team, and those stories warned me that my team was not happy at all.
Ford grunted beneath a barbell, pressing the heavy weight off his chest with Duncan offering him a spot. Dom nodded once and left the team, shooting me a casual smile and tossing a passing comment that he was going to see if the colonel had any new information. He was as impatient as the rest of us.
Mikey’s blue eyes had barely even glanced my way as he snapped the shared lifting belt Bernie had managed to pack out here onto his waist. Sweat deepened the color of his shirt collar and ran down his spine, something that should’ve had me gagging, but instead, my heart raced in my chest like a runaway vehicle, desperate to be near him.
His chest expanded, inhaling a deep breath, and he braced against the belt, stooping with ease to start his set of deadlifts. If only we didn’t have to wear our fucking cammies out here and I could see his legs while he picked up weight that should not have moved as easily as it did.
At least the short sleeves exposed his forearms. With each rep, the veins intensified, running like thousands of rivers down across the back of his hands. Red, sweaty, and hot, his thick neck was accentuated by each pull of the weight.
And then, for the first time all day, as he plopped the weight down, his gaze flickered over to me. He stepped over the barbell, winked, and flicked the lever on the belt.
Tearing my eyes away from him, everything in me ran warm, and a dull pulse ignited in a place that I’d long since believed to have gone dormant. Squeezing my legs together a little tighter, I immediately picked up the scope and began cleaning it.
What an arrogant man…
Such a simple, openly flirtatious moment should not have happened, especially if someone else saw. But it had.
That had been him flirting, right?
And what about yesterday? That had all been innocent, right? He’d merely been trying to help me with the injuries that ached today, right? But the scars… Something about that had seemed more vulnerable than two teammates taking care of each other.
Each tattoo covering the scars clearly held purpose. As if he attempted to cover whatever caused the pain that never fully healed with art that meant nothing and also everything to him.
The way his hand had so quickly snatched mine, jerking it away from him, I’d never seen such shock on his face. Pain once coursed through him, leaving an expression in his eyes I recognized all too easily.
No wonder he didn’t seem to fear death.
Honestly, he didn’t really seem to be afraid of anything, and my stomach twinged knowing he knew I was afraid of something. Taking him up on his offer for extra hand-to-hand combat training sounded better and better as the day wore on. Yet, I’d avoided it this morning. More so because I was avoiding him.
Something more than a simple offer of comfort for a teammate passed between us yesterday. And I’d let him cross a boundary. Becoming caught up in a scandal with a teammate would be devastating for my career, and he probably hadn’t had a single thought about the ramifications. Not that I could blame him. For him, a slap on the wrist might happen, but a pat on the back would more likely be the outcome.
For me…
“How’s the cuts?” Mikey’s gravelly voice snapped through my mindless thoughts steering me down a trail I shouldn’t be going on. Sweat glistened on his forehead, replacing the sand and blood that had clung to his skin yesterday. Damn…
“Uh.” I shook my head, gently setting the scope down as he slid himself onto the bench across from me. “They’re healing.”
“Wanna talk about…it?” he cautiously asked, running a hand over the back of his neck.
“Where’s Bernie?” I ignored his question because I wasn’t sure what to make of what happened. And more so, I had no intention of crossing those boundaries again.
“Went to grab some water and see if there’s mail. His mom likes to send packages that tend to have snacks.”
“Does he ever share?” I asked lightheartedly, and he chuckled, leaning back on the bench.
“No, but that doesn’t mean shit doesn’t go missing sometimes.” He wiggled his brows, his eyes twinkling.
“Why’d you do it?” I blurted out.
“Why’d I do what?” He propped an elbow up against the table.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled sharply. “The fucking belt flick, wink shit.”
Nothing. Not a sound nor word escaped his lips. All I could hear was the background chatter from other soldiers, some grunting from those lifting, and that ever-present white noise of gunfire thundering in the distance.
I cracked one eyelid suspiciously and found Mikey’s dark gaze trained on me. “Oh, wipe that stupid, cocky ass grin from your damn face.” I frowned, narrowing my eyes.
He leaned back and bellowed loudly, the deep laugh drawing a few looks before I assumed they dismissed it as two teammates chilling. “Never had a man wink at you before?”
“Yes I have, and it’s always creepy,” I teased.
He raised a brow. “Then why did you cross your legs?” His voice deepened, a growl rumbling behind his words.
“Always creepy,” I emphasized, somehow keeping my wits about me. He saw that?
“Alright, no winks, then.” He casually picked up a brush and began mindlessly helping me clean the parts to my rifle.
“No, none of whatever’s going on,” I hissed through my teeth. “I already have to deal with enough misogynistic bullshit with Reyes, I don’t need it from you.”
His movements faltered. “Is that how all of this feels to you?”
“You’re flirting with me, are you not?” I questioned quietly.
Mikey stopped cleaning, the cocky grin I so enjoyed fell from his face. His jaw knotted, and regret swept through me immediately. His interactions with me were so genuine, and I hated to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed them. But the fear that someone might see was more consuming than my need to indulge in them. Besides, if it ever moved past this playful interaction stage, he’d see I wasn’t sexy in any way.
And any sort of relationship built with the team would dissolve in an instant.
His broad chest expanded. “Message received,” he muttered and set the gear back down on the table.
He swung one leg over the bench and braced a palm on the table to rise when Bernie came jogging toward us.
“Yo!” Bernie waved white envelopes in his hand. He plopped himself down directly next to Mikey, kicking Mikey’s leg back over the bench without a second thought. A sharp whistle shot from Bernie’s lips. “Ford, Duncan! Mail time!”
The two of them almost immediately rose from the bench at the sound of the whistle and jogged over to us.
Mikey’s blue eyes snapped to mine briefly, narrowing before quickly tearing them away to look at Bernie. “Let’s see,” Bernie began and shuffled through the letters, sliding two across the table to Ford and Duncan until he held three envelopes.
“Mikey, my man!” He slapped one of the letters, address side down, onto the table in front of Mikey. “Dom.” Bernie placed our lieutenant commander’s letter off to the side and sighed. “And myself—though no snacks. I’ll probably go mess with my button bombs since there are no treats.”
“Your what?” I asked, furrowing my brows.
Mikey rolled his eyes as Ford shook his head. Bernie gave me his ever-charming grin. “Duncan and I pulled a prank last year on Halloween. I made these tiny, button-sized explosives. They pop like those bang snap things you get as fireworks, but you don’t have to throw them or stomp on them or anything. They’re remote controlled.”
“Cool,” I nonchalantly said as the smile immediately fell from Bernie’s face.
“I just realized we all have mail, except for you, and here I am complaining about no snacks. Sorry, Scottie.” Bernie grimaced in my direction. Ford and Duncan glanced suspiciously at me but made no move to question why I didn’t have anything as they tore into their stories from people who loved them back home.
Honestly, the lack of any sort of contact from home wasn’t surprising, seeing as no one had even sent a simple hello since I shipped off to basic. “All good,” I mumbled, inhaling deeply as Bernie eyed me suspiciously for a moment and then tore open his envelope. Much had changed since being with this team, but this life without roots I lived remained the same.
A chill ran down my spine, and I cautiously slid my gaze to the man brooding across from me.
Mikey had yet to touch the envelope on the table, his eyes swirling like the ocean before a storm remained trained on me. A mask covered whatever he was thinking, his face set in stone with every chiseled feature perfectly in line.
Damn, I hated to admit that he was handsome… Especially when he’d had that grin on his fucking face after ripping that dude’s ear off. Hold up, Scottie. Appalled with my own thoughts, my brows furrowed together as I snapped my gaze to the gun parts scattered in front of me. Why the hell would you find something like that attractive? Better question, who in their right mind sees something as gruesome as that and thinks, well now my panties are wet? Sighing, I resigned to the shameful admittance that I did.
I’d found his arrogant ass attractive at that moment.
And I’d screwed things up concerning whatever strange modicum of friendship we’d been developing.
“Not gonna touch it?” Ford asked, seated to the right of Mikey, and nodded at the envelope. Hesitantly raising my gaze from the gun to the man across from me, he shrugged his shoulders. Veiny hands worked a rag over one of my rifle pieces again, casually unaware of my stare on fingers that I wanted on my skin again. A fire roared low in my belly, and I uncomfortably shifted my already crossed legs.
“Oh, come on, you haven’t even picked it up to see who it’s from,” Duncan encouraged from my left.
“I already know who it’s from and so do the rest of you. Who the hell else would write to me?” Mikey calmly explained, placing the black barrel down, and rolled his shoulders.
“Griffin might?” Bernie answered.
Mikey chuckled. “About what? We haven’t been out here long enough for shit to go down at home, and other than two fucked up missions, things have been…”
“Slow?” Ford finished for him, and a round of chuckles bounced around us.
“Well, if you’re not gonna—” Bernie shot his hand across the table and snatched up the untouched envelope before Mikey had a chance to stop him.
“Come on asshole, give it back. Or go throw it in the trash.” Mikey stretched out a hand, wiggling his fingers to have it returned.
But all Bernie did was grin and tear it open. Prying apart the envelope, his jaw fell open and his eyes bugged out of his head. “Either you fucking lied to us, or this girl is desperate.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mikey asked, leaning forward as Bernie had yet to pull anything out of the envelope.
“Well…” He cocked a red brow and tipped his head. “I didn’t know you were into a full bush, man. And fucking fire-crotch at that!”
“The fuck?” Mikey’s gaze narrowed, confused, as my mouth fell open.
“You got sent a nude!” I exclaimed.
Every pair of eyes snapped to me, jaws crashing to the desert floor. Time stopped. It seemed even the soldiers hanging near us ceased to speak.
I swallowed stiffly. “What?”
Bernie narrowed his gaze, accusingly. “Did you see into the envelope?”
Pursing my lips, the air slowly escaped my lungs. “I’m a woman, but I’m not an idiot.”
“Also not a virgin then, eh?” Bernie pried, arching a brow.
“How the hell does me knowing what a bush is equate to me having fucked someone before?”
“Damn, with a dirty mouth like that, I feel like it’s 50/50,” Bernie quipped in response.
“Nah, Mikey’s the one with the dirty mouth, or did you forget about just yesterday?” I snipped, raising my own brow. From my peripherals, I caught that cocky grin briefly back on Mikey’s face. Though it immediately disappeared when he noticed me looking.
“I’ll give you twenty bucks right now if you let him kiss you the next time he does something like that.” Bernie leaned toward me, crossing his arms over the table.
“Twenty bucks? Do you think that low of me?” I asked, and Mikey’s mouth fell open.
“I’m not a rich man, Scottie, so take it or leave it.” Bernie frowned and pulled his hands into his lap.
“I’ll pass,” I said, and he sighed, exasperated.
“Damn, how about kissing me?” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.
“There is not enough money in this world to get me to kiss any of you idiots, I have more self-respect than that,” I stated.
Ford snickered. “Should’ve quit while you were ahead, dumbass.”
“You know what?” Bernie pointed a finger at Ford. “I…”
“You, what?” Ford retorted with an eyeroll.
Mindlessly, my gaze slid over to Mikey. A brief smirk morphed on his features as if he was accepting some sort of challenge. One that had me sweating. Maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing how it felt to kiss him. It had been a long time since I’d kissed someone. Drums played low in my stomach. For the second time in one sitting, a pulse ached between my legs from his simple stare.
His tongue flicked out, briefly wetting his bottom lip, then he pulled his stare away from me, frustration quickly clouding his expression. He snatched the envelope out of Bernie’s hand. Rising from the bench, Mikey turned away.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Bernie called out.
He paused. “To get rid of this.”
“I thought you didn’t have any feelings for her anymore?” Bernie shouted as Mikey disappeared without a single word. Bernie frowned.
“Let him be, Bernie,” Ford muttered. “You know how he is with women, even if they treat him like shit.”
“Yeah, he lets them walk all over him.” Bernie slid a thumb over his envelope as I began reassembling my sniper rifle.
“No, you dumbass.” Ford looked up from his letter. “When have you ever seen Mikey talk disrespectfully about a woman? Ever?”
“Uh, how about when he first met me? He said, and I quote, ‘fuck this’ and walked out,” I inserted myself into the conversation, and Ford shook his head.
“That wasn’t directed at you, Scottie. Mikey respects you and always will. Plus, you’ve also now saved his life. He’s stubborn and boneheaded and a smug son of a bitch at times, so he probably will never outright tell you he’s aware you’re the reason he’s alive, but he sees it.”
“You guys have issues,” I lightheartedly replied.
Ford raised his hand in a salute. “Which is why you’re fitting right in.”
“Oh, ha. Ha.” I mocked, rolling my eyes. Slowly, metal snapped into place as I finished piecing the rifle back together.
“Hey, fuckheads!” Unexpectedly, the sound of Dom’s voice pulled all of our attention away from the table. He jogged our way.
“What’s going on? We got news?” Bernie asked, excitement slipping across his words.
“Sergeant Powell still hasn’t woken up, so we’ve got nothing from him. And not a peep from the other one still with the terrorist group, but the colonel asked if we’d head out with another squad to stop the transport of a bomb by the same terrorist organization. We’ve got about an hour or so before we need to gear up, so go eat.” Dom stopped beside us, scanning the group. “Wait, where’s Mikey?”
“He bounced a few minutes ago with his letter,” Ford explained.
“I need to return this to the tent before heading to the chow hall, I’ll let him know?” I offered, rising from my seat with my fully reassembled and clean sniper rifle.
“Sounds good. The rest of you, let’s go,” Dom said.
Nerves rushed beneath my skin as they headed off to eat. A mission that had nothing to do with the Black Box, but still, something to do while we waited. I knew I wasn’t the only one grateful for the distraction from our failure.