Soldier For Hire. Kimberly Meter Van
Xander shook off the memory as a yawn cracked his jaw. She wouldn’t stop chasing him. He’d have to keep watching over his shoulder while trying to figure out who the hell wanted him to take the fall for the bomb.
Scarlett would only be out of commission for a few days. He had to go underground if he was going to shake her off his tail.
A part of him wished she would’ve listened to him. It would’ve been nice to have her on his side. It also would’ve felt good knowing that she believed him. He supposed that was immaterial but it meant something just the same.
Xander wasn’t a sap, hated mush and generally thought feelings were as tolerable as a case of hives.
His addiction to The Bachelor didn’t mean he secretly pined for love. Hell, no. He watched The Bachelor because he knew that love was bullshit and secretly he was always hoping for them all to fail.
Yeah, he was an asshole, but at least he was honest.
He liked that about Scarlett, too.
Her blunt honesty was refreshing. Even though she’d tossed him out of her apartment, he’d respected her straightforward approach. No posturing, no dancing around feelings—just straight up truth.
We can’t keep screwing each other because I could lose my job.
Couldn’t get plainer than that.
And now she was chasing him like a fox after a rabbit.
Was he a little bit messed up in the head that he found that sexy?
Of course he was.
Xander sighed, mildly surprised when he found himself still rock hard. For crying out loud, he wasn’t going to get any sleep like this.
Curling his hand around his shaft, he closed his eyes and gave into the memory that never failed to do the trick.
It was just so he could get some sleep, he told himself.
Not because he missed her or anything.
Scarlett was released from the hospital and she returned to headquarters where she found her core team.
Zak Ramsey, CJ Lawry and Laird Holstein were playing poker when Scarlett walked into the room. “Glad to see you’ve kept yourself busy,” she said. “We’ve lost valuable time. We need to find a way to get back on track.”
When no one readily agreed, she could feel what was coming, mostly because she was dealing with the same questions as everyone else.
“Look, I get it,” she said, addressing the elephant in the room. “Xander is one of our own. We are a tight group, but the facts are clear—he broke the law—”
“Allegedly,” CJ cut in with a shrug. “I mean, innocent until proven guilty, right?”
“Of course, but that’s for the courts to decide, not us. Here’s the deal—either we bring him in or the FBI does. The only reason they’re letting us handle this is because we’ve assured them we can get the job done on the DL. That’s what we do. We get shit done. This job is no different.”
“It’s plenty different,” Laird disagreed, tossing his cards, folding. “Look, something ain’t right about this deal. You know it, we know it, and we’re just supposed to toe the line against one of our own? A man who’d give his life for any one of us in this room, including you, TL?”
“That was before,” Scarlett said sharply. “Things are different.”
“It’s bullshit,” CJ said, tossing his cards, too. “It’s a goddamn frame job. There’s no way in hell Xander did what they’re saying he did.”
Scarlett felt the rising tide of animosity and she didn’t blame them. They weren’t pissed at her, just the situation. But what the hell was she supposed to do? Break the law for the sake of a man who may or may not be guilty?
“As much as I hate to do this, we all know that Xander’s got demons. How are we supposed to know whether or not those demons got the better of him?”
“We all got demons,” CJ returned, casting Scarlett a flat stare, daring her to go down that road. She knew they were all damaged goods in some way or another. “I ain’t saying that Xander wouldn’t consider taking out a politician if the wind conditions were right but he’d never take down civilians. That shit ain’t right.” CJ rose and grabbed his jacket. “If we’re done here, so am I.”
Scarlett let him go. CJ had a temper. She didn’t need him going off over something as stupid as this. Emotions were running high in the room, the tension thick enough to slice through. She needed time to think and her head hurt. If she pressed her team right now, they’d push back and that would get them nowhere fast. “We’ll reconvene at 0700 hours tomorrow,” she said. “Don’t let your emotions call the shots. I don’t have time to deal with any of you hotheads getting into trouble.”
Scarlett watched as her team filed out and as soon as they were gone, she swallowed a few Excedrin for the excruciating pain in her head.
Maybe she ought to be thankful for the drum beating her brain. Seemed pain was the only thing keeping other thoughts at bay. She talked a good game but the truth was, Xander had gotten under her skin.
Had been since that night.
She hated the clichéd “there’s just something about him” but damn, if it wasn’t appropriate for what she couldn’t quite explain about her attraction to Xander.
The energy between them snapped and crackled like a downed power line, whipping about, wreaking havoc and mayhem with its promise of destruction.
Destruction was an apt description for what would happen if word of Xander and Scarlett’s indiscretion got out.
It wasn’t like her to lose her grip like that.
But Xander, goddamn, that man was unlike any she’d ever come across.
Oh, she’d known it, too. The minute their eyes had met, there’d been a powerful zap at the base of her spine and that electrical current had traveled the length of her body like a bullet train straight to no-man’s-land.
The tequila had just been a convenient excuse to do what she’d wanted to do from the beginning—bang the ever-lovin’ shit out of that hard, chiseled, scarred and beautiful body.
Eyes closed, it was easy to remember every moment of that night.
Scarlett groaned at her own weakness, grinding at the pain behind her eyeballs. It would take a week to be back to 100 percent but she didn’t have that kind of time to waste.
She grabbed her laptop, logged into the encrypted Red Wolf interface and pulled Xander’s file. She knew it by heart, but she went over it again just to be sure she wasn’t missing anything.
Her gaze skimmed the basic blotter information: name, highest active rank, MOS, commendations, etc.
The psych evals were her favorite—to sum up: the guy had issues, but who didn’t in their line of work? Scarlett didn’t hold that kind of stuff against her team members. She judged them based on their performance, their skills and their ability to walk unflinching into a shit storm.
Xander was the best of all of them when it came to looking danger straight in the eye and laughing.
From the outside looking in, one might say Xander was bat-shit crazy.
But Scarlett understood Xander on a different level than most. She recognized that need for danger that flowed through Xander’s veins, that hunger to face death and win.
It wasn’t hero-syndrome. It was something far darker.
It was the need to feel worthy of being alive.
Each successful mission appeased that insatiable desire for redemption, even though they all lived with the knowledge