Special Forces: The Recruit (Mission Medusa Book 1) Page 12

  He stuffed the wrapper in his pocket. “Okay. Your turn to spot for me.”

  And so it went. She listened and learned, and he stuck purely to business. No personal conversation, no joking around, no more flirting.

  Even if they did end up lying side by side, their thighs pressed together from hip to knee in a shooter’s nest he taught her how to build.

  Nope, nothing going on here...except near orgasms at the contact with him.

  Her shooting accuracy plummeted, and he snapped, “Get your head in the game. Focus.”

  That was the problem. She was intensely focused. On him.

  Clearly, being plastered to her side like this wasn’t bothering him at all. He’d put up a giant emotional barricade to prevent anything more between them. Lucky bastard.

  It wasn’t like she’d never crashed and burned with a guy before. On the contrary. Once men found out she was training in hopes of becoming a commando, they usually ran screaming.

  She’d just never taken it personally before now. But it was really hard not to from a man whose approval meant so much to her and to her future. Worse, she genuinely liked Beau on top of finding him unbelievably attractive. He was smart, funny, generally considerate and decent. It was a lethal combination as it turned out.

  She should just take the training and move on with her life. But unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to get past her unwavering attraction to him.

  Like it or not, she couldn’t afford to fall into any traditional female stereotype—including craving approval from people around her. But it was impossible not to crave both the man and his elusive approval.

  Chapter 9

  A few deeply sexually frustrating days later, she woke up to Beau standing over her bed, staring down at her impatiently. The fact that he was even in her room was shocking.

  “What’s up?” she mumbled up at him, her voice sleep-roughened.

  “Trip to town today. We need to get going.”

  Recalling the all-day trek from hell it had been to get here a lifetime ago, she groaned and pushed wearily to her feet. “You gonna stand there and watch me dress?” she snapped.

  He spun and left the room abruptly. Almost as if he hadn’t realized he was staring at her until she had pointed it out. If she wasn’t mistaken, his ears were red as he swept out of her room. Excellent. He could use a little embarrassment. Maybe that would knock him out of his stupid ivory tower.

  She desperately needed more clothes. And food. She was really tired of fish. Granted, the catfish, crawfish and bass Beau had been catching and cooking had been delicious. But she was ready for some variation in her diet. The thought of a salad of store-bought lettuce was enough to make her slightly orgasmic.

  She grabbed her rucksack and threw in some basic survival gear. Weird how accustomed she’d grown to having a KA-BAR knife at hand. And rope, and a multi-tool. She went outside to wait and looked up as Beau jogged down the back steps toward her. His legs were powerful, his body rippling with muscle, the whole of him oozing aggressive masculine confidence.

  Lord, that man was beautiful. She tried not to think about it, to ignore the visceral reaction in her gut to his masculinity. But when he caught her by surprise like this, she couldn’t stop a tornado of attraction in her gut.

  He moved with the fluid grace of an athlete. Where he got off calling himself old, she had no idea. His knee seemed to have been doing great the past couple of days. But they also hadn’t been running around the swamp as much.

  She followed him across the backyard to a raised wooden walkway about two feet wide. It took a sharp right turn, proceeded a half dozen more yards and turned into a dock with a shallow-draft airboat tied to it.

  “Hop in,” he directed as he untied the front mooring line and tossed it aboard.

  She stepped into the boat and caught the rear mooring line from him as he stepped into the vessel. She stowed the line as he started the engine. It caught with a roar.

  Beau steered away from the dock and into the bayou. They turned into a big, straight canal, and he opened up the throttle. They skimmed across the water and she laughed aloud, loving the speed and freedom. Her eyes watered, and she didn’t want to think about how long it was going to take her to brush the tangles out of her hair, but she’d really needed this break.

  The canal emptied into a lakelike body of water. He guided the airboat north along the coast for perhaps five minutes to a dock. A shopping center stretched along the waterfront.

  She jumped ashore and caught the line Beau tossed her. She lashed it to a mooring cleat on the dock while Beau did the same with the back line.

  “Wow,” she commented. “Real people. I haven’t seen a child in six months.”

  He glanced sidelong at her and murmured, “It’s a shock to the system, isn’t it?”

  She hit a women’s clothing store first and carried her purchases back to the boat. Beau had loaded up on ammunition and supplies for fixing up the house. He locked their haul in a storage box on the airboat and then led her to the grocery store.

  In front of it, he said sardonically, “I know you haven’t seen one of these for a long time. It’s where Mommy and Daddy go to buy food. And this is a buggy. You put your food in it.”

  “Very funny. And where I come from, they’re called grocery carts.”

  “Damn Yankee,” he declared cheerfully.

  He was joking with her? Had the iceman actually thawed? Shock.

  She was delighted to find—luxury of luxuries—deodorant. Her blissful trip down the cosmetics aisle also yielded shampoo and conditioner, sunblock, lip balm and facial moisturizer. She even sneaked a tube of mascara into the cart.

  And then she turned her attention to food.

  Beau led her to the canned goods section, where they stocked up heavily. They were about halfway down an aisle when Tessa noticed a large man coming around the corner ahead of them. He looked familiar.

  The face clicked. The drunk who had hit on her at the restaurant that first night. One of the Kimball brothers. What had Beau called him? Jimbo. That was it.

  “Let’s turn around,” she murmured to Beau, whose irritated expression indicated that he’d spotted their old acquaintance.

  “Can’t,” he replied low. “Two of his brothers are behind us.”

  Another man turned into the aisle in front of them, nearly as big and brawny as Jimbo. The last Kimball brother. Four on two. In close quarters. She had faith that she and Beau would win. But who wanted to fight in a grocery store and terrify the housewives and kids?

  “Well, isn’t this special?” she said casually. “A complete, matched set of Kimballs.”

  Beau commented from beside her, “Let’s take this outside, fellas. No sense making a huge mess in aisle five for someone to have to clean up.”

  She followed him to the checkout counter and couldn’t believe that he calmly paid for the groceries and even helped the bag boy put them in the cart. He did ask the manager to watch the cart for a few minutes inside the front door while he took care of a bit of business.

  The manager looked nervous. Must’ve seen the Kimball boys head outside to lie in wait for them. The guy said, “Y’all be careful, now, heah’? ’Dem boys is trouble.”

  Beau thanked the man quietly for the warning, then said, “Wait two minutes and call the sheriff, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  The manager nodded jerkily, his face pale and sweaty.

  “Can we just walk away?” she muttered at Beau as they approached the automatic doors.

  “Not a chance they’ll let us. You stay out of this. I’m going to have my hands full without having to look after you, too.”

  As if. He was her teammate, and they were in this together.

  “Get behind me,” Beau ordered low. “They’ll be in the alley just beyond the buggies waiting to jump us. Put your back to the building
and don’t let them get behind us. I’ll cover you from the front.”

  “I can help—”

  “Stay right on my back. They won’t be able to hit you there.”

  “I know how to fight—”

  “Not like these guys,” he bit out. “Grab one of those buggies and cover my left if you can.” He pointed at the long row of carts stacked together outside.

  She tried again. “Beau—”

  “Later.”

  She had eight years of Krav Maga training, for God’s sake. She could handle herself with these amateur thugs and even the odds considerably.

  Nonetheless, Beau was expecting her to follow orders and he would make decisions in the fight based on knowing where she was and what she would be doing.

  Frustrated, she slid behind him and grabbed on to the handle of a cart to use it as a makeshift shield. They stepped past the cart line, and sure enough, all four Kimballs came out of the alley.

  “Hello, gentlemen,” she said pleasantly to Jimbo and his gigantic brothers. “How are you today?”

  “About to be a far sight better,” Kimball growled.

  “How’s that?” she asked calmly.

  “Swing left,” Beau muttered.

  She half turned to her left, and on cue, two of the Kimballs stepped left to confront her, while the other two slid right.

  Beau’s shoulder blade touched her back. He would use the light contact to keep tabs on where she was during the fight. She mimicked his loose relaxation, preparing her body to move with maximum speed when the time came.

  “Gonna get me a can of whup-ass and dump it on yo’ pretty boy’s face. Won’ be so pretty when I’m done wit’ ’im.”

  She replied sympathetically, “I suppose it’s hard to pronounce English properly with so many teeth missing, isn’t it? Shame. Makes you sound like an ignorant hick.”

  Beau would know what she was doing, of course. It was Combat 101 to provoke the enemy into an ill-advised attack based on emotion rather than sound combat strategy and timing.

  Jimbo growled. “Mouthy-whoring-bitch-slut.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of words. I had no idea you knew so many,” she quipped lightly. The guy would rush her any second.

  “I’ll kick yo’ skinny ass, too, bitch,” he growled.

  Beau tensed against her back. “You and what army?” she retorted. She was careful not to overtly threaten Jimbo. She was an active duty military officer, and the Army had no sense of humor about its officers picking fights, particularly with civilians. Even if they were total jerkwads.

  Beau chimed in, his voice flat and cold. “Guys, we don’t want any trouble. Consider this fair warning that for legal purposes my hands are classed as lethal weapons. Please turn around and walk away from this.”

  She was impressed at how he managed to pitch his voice to be both threatening and conciliatory like that. She added, “And while we’re on the subject of lethal hands, mine are also legally classified as weapons.”

  Martial artists and boxers at a certain level were required to warn people before attacking them, lest they face criminal charges for the damage they inflicted in a fight. Beau’s shoulder blades tensed briefly in surprise. Of course, he probably thought she was bluffing.

  Legal necessities out of the way, she and Beau were both in the clear now to kick butt and take names.

  “Big talk, li’l girl.”

  She shrugged. “You’ve been warned.”

  Jimbo swore luridly and charged. She took in torsos and fists and feet simultaneously as her targets approached, assessing them coolly. These guys would be strong, and potentially fairly fast. Probably would rely on their fists over their feet. They would also be overly aggressive, uncontrolled and overconfident because she was a woman. Two on one wasn’t ideal, but she’d practiced against multiple attackers. She could handle this.

  Mental assessment complete in the blink of an eye, she waited the last few milliseconds for the men to come into range. She jammed the heavy grocery cart at Jimbo’s brother, nailing him in the gut and breaking the momentum of his charge.

  Momentarily down to one attacker, she made a feint with her fist in hopes of drawing all of Jimbo’s attention to her hands. Sure enough, his enraged glare zeroed in on her fist. She lashed out with her steel-toed boot, nailing him squarely in the kneecap. Hard. He howled, but followed through with the big right hook he’d thrown just as she kicked.

  She threw up her left forearm and took the blow on her arm. He was strong, all right, and drove her arm back into her forehead painfully, albeit harmlessly. As he yanked his arm back to reload, she grabbed his fist with her left hand and maintained contact with it as she chopped up from below with her right fist. She punched up as hard as she could into his solar plexus. He exhaled hard and doubled over, driving his face down onto her knee just as she jerked it up.

  The result was spectacular. Blood exploded out of his nose and he reeled back, screaming bloody murder. It was enough to give his brother pause for an instant to stare at him.

  Which was a mistake. She took a quick step forward and clocked the brother with all her strength on the chin. The guy went down like a rock. Jimbo started to come up for another go and she nailed him in the temple with her elbow, driving it out hard from her side. It was a vicious blow, and he dropped on top of his brother in a heap. She spun to help Beau.

  Not that he needed any help from her. He’d just spun around to defend her, as it turned out. “Look out!” he bit out sharply.

  She registered the direction of his gaze and ducked, catching only a glancing blow on top of her scalp, which probably saved her from a serious concussion or worse. Beau leaped past her and chopped Jimbo’s brother in the throat with the side of his hand, bladelike. The guy staggered back, gurgling. Beau scooped up an empty beer bottle and smashed it over the guy’s head. Jimbo’s brother collapsed, unconscious.

  “Thanks,” Tessa muttered, chagrined. She should have finished off her own attackers and not left it to Beau to save her from her overconfidence.

  “No problem. You good?” he bit out.

  “Peachy keen. You?” she replied.

  Adrenaline was screaming through her blood and she became aware of the most amazing side effect. She was so turned on she could hardly stop from throwing herself at Beau and ripping his clothes off. Right here. Right now. Fire burned through her, pounding through her core, demanding the slap of sweaty skin on sweaty skin, panting, pounding sex, rough and randy.

  Beau’s gaze met hers, and his entire body tensed. His nostrils flared, his eyes went black and a promise of exactly the sex she craved poured off him. He was primal and male. He’d violently defended his woman, and now he was going to drag her back to his cave and have his way with her.

  Yes. Please.

  She’d barely cracked a sweat in the fight, but looking at Beau now, her pulse exploded and lust stole her breath completely away.

  His voice was unnaturally rough. “Let’s go before the boys wake up.” He put his hand on the small of her back and she about came out of her skin. It was all she could do not to slam him back against the brick wall behind him, crawl all over his glorious body and ride him until they both howled like wild creatures.

  He muttered, “Jeez, Tessa. Rein it in until we’re in private.”

  He’d noticed she was about to have her way with him, huh? At least he had the good grace to sound a little out of breath, too.

  He spoke more loudly. “Nothing to see here, folks.”

  She looked up, startled to see that a dozen people had gathered to watch the comeuppance of the Kimballs. Broad grins wreathed the bystanders’ faces.

  While she tried to form coherent thoughts beyond needing immediate, passionate, wildly unrestrained sex, Beau fetched their cart of groceries and pushed it outside.

  Sirens became audible in the distance. She an
d Beau grabbed the grocery bags and carried them to the airboat with dispatch.

  They were just casting off the lines when a police car pulled into the parking lot. One of the Kimballs charged out of the alley like a rampaging bull and ran smack-dab into a deputy, who looked prepared to have a long and detailed discussion with him about physical contact with officers of the law.

  Aww. Too bad, so sad.

  Not.

  As the airboat’s engine vibrated through her nether regions until she hummed on the edge of an orgasm, one thought galvanized her mind. When they got back to the house, she and Beau would be all alone.

  Chapter 10

  Beau raced the airboat across the lake at full throttle, so turned on he could hardly see to steer. It had taken everything he had not to grab Tessa and take her right there, on the spot, after the fight. The desire rolling off her had been so potent he could hardly resist it. Thank goodness he’d looked up and seen that crowd of bystanders, or he might have embarrassed them both. Bad.

  He was no stranger to post-mission adrenaline and the urgent lust it provoked. What he wasn’t accustomed to was hitting the adrenaline wall with a woman around who’d also just slammed headfirst into it.

  And not just any woman. Tessa, whom he’d wanted ever since he first laid eyes on her. Tessa, who was all the things he’d ever wanted in a woman. Tessa, who wanted him every bit as badly as he wanted her.

  He practically missed the entrance to the side channel that would circle around behind the house and approach from the other direction. Out of long habit, he never went home the exact same way he went to a place. It was basic security ops not to.

  Of course, it was no secret where the old Lambert place was. And it wasn’t like the Kimball boys didn’t know every square inch of the Bayou Toucheaux. They weren’t successful drug dealers and smugglers for nothing.

  Truth be told, he was taking the long way home to give his raging lust some time to cool down. Not that it was working. He swore under his breath.

  Man, it felt good to drop those jerks. Funny how life had brought him full circle, back to his roots like this. When he’d left home to join the Army, he’d never planned to come back here. It had been worth it, though, just for the opportunity to kick some Kimball butt.