32
EMERSYN
The next morning, I got up at my usual early hour to get my workout done.
I used the remaining time to get in some target practice, thankful I didn’t run into any of the others.
When I finally was cleaned up and ready for the day, I made my way to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee and bacon.
I hesitated in the doorway when I saw Mouse in front of the stove.
He wielded a spatula in one hand and a coffee mug in the other, and hummed something that sounded suspiciously like Beyonce.
I moved toward the coffee machine in hopes he’d just ignore me.
“Ah, good morning, Syn,” Mouse said cheerfully. “Bacon and eggs will be done shortly. You’re up early—beat the other degenerates, although that’s not hard. Hangman sleeps like the dead and just as long.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee, intent on escaping the kitchen as soon as I could, when Mouse chuckled behind me.
“Speak of the devil.”
“Mornin’ folks,” Hangman said, cheerfully. “Ah, coffee.”
He squeezed his large form next to me at the counter and poured himself a mug. I casually eased away from him and crept towards the exit.
“Where you off to, Syn?” Hangman asked. “Sit down there.” He jerked his head towards the bar stool. “Mouse makes the best eggs. He puts those little green onion things that aren’t green onions—” He slapped Mouse on the back. “What are they called again?”
“Chives,” Mouse replied.
“Yes! He puts those in there and ohmygod,” Hangman moaned. “Delicious. Sit, sit!”
He somehow herded me onto one of the barstools and sat down in another.
“So, what’s your specialty?” He sipped from his coffee, Levi-clad legs spread wide. I took a sip from my mug, more to steady my nerves than anything. Being around this many men was unnerving, and the comradery even more so.
“Uh, weapons and intelligence mostly,” I said.
“Sniper qualification, by chance?”
“Yup.”
Hangman grinned. “You hear that, Mouse? She’s one of the cool kids.”
Mouse chuckled. “I heard her.” He put a few strips of bacon and a heaping pile of eggs on a plate and set it in front of me. “She’s probably got better eyesight than all of us combined these days.”
“I don’t like what that implies,” Hangman sniffed like he was offended.
“Does everyone have their sniper qualification?” I asked.
“Yes ma’am.” He smirked. “Some of us are just better than others.” He followed up with a wink and Mouse scoffed as he dropped a plate of food in front of Hangman.
“Don’t start,” he warned.
Hangman buried his face in his coffee, a look of mock innocence on his face. “What ever do you mean?”
“I can feel the competition starting already,” Mouse said dryly. He looked over at me. “He loves to make side bets on jobs—ignoring him is best.”
“What do you do?” I asked Mouse.
“I’m an engineer.”
“Bah, he’s too modest for his own good is what he is,” Hangman scoffed. “That man—” He pointed at Mouse with a strip of bacon. “He can fix anything. I once saw him fix his radio with what…sap and charcoal was it?” Mouse waved him away and turned back to the stove. “He’s also our medic.”
I took a bite of eggs, about to ask another question, but I completely forgot what it was as soon as the flavor burst across my tongue.
Hangman chuckled at my expression. “See what I mean?”
“Mornin’!” Jamal appeared in the kitchen and swiped a piece of bacon from Hangman’s plate.
“Hey, get your own!” Hangman griped.
“God, I’ve missed your cooking, Mouse.” Jamal settled into the seat next to Hangman. Mouse put a heaping plate in front of Jamal that he immediately dug into.
Hangman nudged me. “Jamal here can fly anything.” He looked over toward the doorway.
“And that little ray of sunshine creeping in here is intelligence and communications—” Jackal silently stalked into the kitchen.
“Best damn tracker I’ve ever met, but don’t tell him that, it’ll only go to his head. ”
Jackal had the same frown I’d seen yesterday on his face, which made me think it was his usual expression. He ignored us, took a plate from Mouse and silently sat down at the table behind us to eat.
“You’ll meet Rex later, he’s our explosives expert,” Hangman continued.
“Don’t touch anything of his if you value your fingers and toes, and if you ever smell gunpowder, run—” Riggs stormed into the kitchen and the temperature in the room plummeted.
“And, there’s our fearless team leader. Morning, boss. ”
Riggs grunted. “Jamal, Jackal—you’re on first rotation. Mouse, Hangman, you’ll move out at fifteen hundred to take over.”
The men nodded. I glared at Riggs with a look that dared to leave me out.
“Me and Syn will have the third watch at twenty-three hundred,” Riggs grumbled.
Riggs grabbed a few strips of bacon and left the room. Everyone wrapped up quickly once the orders were set. It was obvious everyone was pretty used to Riggs’ frosty demeanor because no one seemed surprised by it.
I spent the rest of the day in the war room looking over the data Lev had gathered.
But, despite my attempts to stay occupied and out of my head, by the time it was my turn to head out with Riggs, my body was alive with nerves.
This was going to be very different from stalking animals or doing drills with Sacha in the woods.
I didn’t know what to expect and I didn’t like that.
Riggs was waiting for me when I arrived downstairs. “You’re late.”
I frowned, immediately irritated. “We don’t leave for another thirty minutes.”
Riggs crowded me into the wall. “You’re late if I say you’re late, soldier.”
“I’m not a soldier.” I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “And I didn’t sign up to be your grunt, asshole. I didn’t even want you involved so back the fuck off.”
“This is why you’re a liability,” Riggs scoffed and I berated myself for playing into his hand. “Defying me, as your team leader, will only result in failed jobs. You either obey, or you can fucking leave.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I snarled.
“You wouldn’t last a minute out there alone,” Riggs said snidely.
I didn’t reply, because well, he was probably right. We faced off for another long minute before he growled in irritation and stalked out the door. I took a deep breath, gathered my things and followed after him. It was going to be a long night.
I twisted the knob to turn the heat down on the small portable heater between us for the millionth time, conscious of Riggs’ glare. We’d been battling it out for hours and at this point, I was convinced he was doing it just to be a dick. There was no way he was actually cold.
“It’s like a fucking sauna in here,” I muttered.
Riggs shook his head. “Are you just going to complain the entire time?”
“I’m not complaining,” I said. “I’ve literally only brought it up twice.”
“I should have known—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.
“Your inexperience is showing, Syn,” he said snidely.
I crossed my arms and scowled out the front windshield. I refused to be baited. We’d been at it for four hours and the warehouse in front of us was still dark. We hadn’t seen a single person.
“Are we even at the right place?” I asked suspiciously. “Why haven’t we seen anyone?”
“This is what we’re up against,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone. “This is what you wanted. In order to take down an organization, you have to know as much as possible about it. It starts here. In the trenches.”
“Thanks for mansplaning that,” I said sarcastically. “Really helpful.”
“Watch your tone,” he growled.
I wanted to turn the heater down even more, but knew it would just provoke him further, so I wrestled my sweatshirt off instead.
When my head popped free, I looked over to see him hungrily staring at the small strip of bare skin on my stomach that had been exposed when my tank top snagged on the sweater.
Riggs’ eyes jumped up to mine with an angry glare.
“What now?” I tugged the shirt back down.
“Don’t dress like that in front of the team,” Riggs muttered. “They might think you’re asking for it.”
My mouth dropped open. I was wearing a modest tank top under a sweatshirt.
Sure, it was a little tight, but I wasn’t what I would classify as anything more than modestly endowed in the breast department anyway, so I had no idea what he could be talking about.
And the tank top wasn’t a crop top; it sat at my belt just like any other shirt.
I finally found my voice. “What are you talking about?”
Riggs shrugged. “The men aren’t used to having a girl around—” Girl—not woman. I had a feeling that was intentionally worded. “Might want to cover up more.”
“Or, what?” I asked incredulously.
Riggs sighed condescendingly. “You know what, Syn.” His eyes raked down my body and chills raced across my skin at the heat in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you can’t see what you do to men.”
The shock was so palpable, I literally was at a loss for words.
Sure, I didn’t have much experience being around men—in fact, so far my track record with them was fifty-fifty on whether or not they’d hurt me, but up until Riggs’ comment, I’d never even contemplated that I’d provoked that harm.
I hadn’t been dressed any sort of revealing way when the hunters raped me, but had I unknowingly done something to make them act the way they had?
The remaining hours of our surveillance shift passed in silence and I remained lost in my spiraling thoughts.
Once it was obvious nothing was happening at that location, Riggs started the car and we drove back to the safe house.
I headed to my room to sleep for a few hours and until my door closed behind me, I felt Riggs’ attention.
It made me wonder—I didn’t think the rest of the team would touch without permission, but what about Riggs?
Did I trust him? I answered my own question when I quietly locked the door behind me—I just hoped I was wrong.