Justice (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 2) (5 page)

Head Games

JESUS CHRIST, JUSTICE, GET your head in the fucking game
.

The head on top of your shoulders.

I got back on mission, charging forward. “Storm, weld that door tight. I don’t even want a damn speck of air coming through any cracks.”

He saluted me with two fingers at his forehead and a lopsided smirk. But at least he didn’t give me any lip.

Marching up to Lawless, I clapped a hand on his shoulder. The starch may have dissolved from his wrinkled dress shirt, but there was plenty of backbone left in his stature and bearing.

“Hear you know our Miss Carmichael personally. She put me in charge of this op, sir, and I won’t let her, or you, down.” And definitely not your daughter.

My gaze skittered to Tilly with unstoppable force then quickly away again.

“Blaize Carmichael,
huh
?” Lawless scratched a white-whiskered jaw he was probably used to having clean-shaven with military precision. “Now there’s a fine young woman with an excellent work ethic. I guess that means I have to trust you boys.”

“Boys?” Walker’s eyebrows shot up.

Lawless gestured at me. “Well, this one here doesn’t look old enough to tie his own shoelaces.”

Bane smirked. Walker guffawed until I glared him into silence. Lawless hit me with a drill sergeant’s flinty stare.

Considering we were here to save his ass, he didn’t seem inclined to go easy on us.

“And of course you four don’t officially exist. Is that right?” He skewered that stern look at me again.

“We’re officially unofficial,” I concurred, willing the tension to ease from my tight shoulders. “How about you show us the set up so we can get squared away?”

Storm fired up a mini blowtorch behind us and went at it without so much as a speck of protective gear. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last.

I took lead, dipping my HK VP40 pistol in front of me as we exited the hollow-sounding room.

Bane and Walker herded Tilly and Lawless from the back, and we traversed from what amounted to a reinforced bunker into a short hall that looked like it might’ve been a servant’s corridor.

“Still got power, I see?”

“Designated generator to these rooms in case of attack.”

“Someone was thinking.” I nodded in approval.

“After 2008 things got a little more orderly around here,” Lawless commented from my left shoulder.

“Orderly.” Tilly scoffed. “It’s like being shut up in a prison.”

“You live here too, miss?” I asked, keeping my eyes aimed forward instead of glancing back.

“I told you,
mah
name’s Tilly, not miss or Matilda.” The lilting accent came out full force when she was pissed off.

Pardon me if I liked it. Liked it a lot.

And a southern woman to boot. Damn. I never had one of those.

Her accent reminded me of the peach color of her hair—and a hell of a lot of other parts of her I had no goddamn business imagining.

Remaining silent, I rotated into the next room.

“
Ah
don’t live here, no.” Tilly’s hushed whisper followed me into what seemed to be a fairly decent sized galley. “I’m a professor of photography at Savannah College of Art and Design.”

Filed that intel away for future investigation. One Matilda Lawless. Definitely a Georgia peach. Appeared to be in her mid-twenties.

“I’m just visiting,” she finished.

“Seems like a foolish place to visit,” I said before I could stop myself.

I bit my lip when I heard a hiss behind me. So that was probably the wrong thing to say to the woman.

“I am
not
foolish.”

Swinging around, I faced Tilly on the opposite side of the room. Her cheeks stained pink and her eyes flashed with anger.

“I didn’t mean to imply you were.” My voice lowered an octave, and I looked away from her.

“Foolish, no. But you are damn stubborn, Tilly. Just like your momma was.” Lawless placed a hand on her arm.

I didn’t want to get involved in their family dynamics any more than I wanted to feel this instant dangerous attraction to Tilly. All I had to do was keep them alive, get them out of the country, and say sayonara.

“So, we’ve got the bunker, the kitchen. What else is in play, sir?” My eyes swerved and locked with Tilly’s determined ones for the space of a heartbeat before I found her father, watching with his hands pressed to his hips.

“James. I said call me James,” he chewed out between tight lips as if it pained him to welcome me to use his given name. “Through there.” He pointed. “Two bedrooms, bathroom, the gym. The rest is closed off.”

“A gym?” Walker blurted.

“Waste of square feet to include a gym in the secure set-up.” Bane scowled.

“I imagine whoever implemented it thought it might be a good way to blow off steam when cabin fever set in.” A small glimmer appeared in Lawless’s eyes. “I petitioned for an armory myself.”

Huh.
Now
that
was a goddamn good idea. Maybe we’d get along after all.

“This area of the residence isn’t in regular use. No windows. No exit or entry points aside from the one now—”

“Screwed beyond repair?” Walker was having a problem keeping his diarrhea of the mouth in check.

“And now we’re all just snug as bugs.” Tilly chimed in with a teasing smile.

“Like cockroaches in a trap,” Bane pressed out between thin lips.

“My, aren’t you the cheerful one?” Tilly’s smug grin grew, and Bane gave her a glowering once-over.

I was surprised he didn’t just outright growl at her.

She didn’t seem to give a shit, surrounded by three big, solid, supposedly unapproachable dudes carrying all sorts of weapons.

In fact, she leaned a hip against the counter and examined us all right back.

The woman definitely had
cojones
.

I finally cleared my throat and looked away, motioning for Lawless to show us the rest. Everything was as he’d said—bathroom, gym, two bedrooms. No windows. No ins. No outs. Except for the one hidden, vacuum-sealed access point that led to the outer recesses of the residence the terrorists were systematically bombing to smithereens.

Even though we were ensconced behind the airtight steel cage that locked us in—and
them
out—sounds drifted toward us from the grounds. Echoes of victory cries, yells for Ambassador Lawless’s head, rude jeers about his daughter in guttural Arabic I understood but hoped to hell Tilly didn’t.

The five of us reconvened in the galley. We’d tuned off all lights but one in the kitchen while Walker toured the room and Bane grumbled beneath his breath, probably about the gym, the no-show armory, and the uselessness of government bureaucracies.

I hit the sink, and blessed water—relatively clean and fresh—ran from it. Scooping it with two hands, I squandered just enough to wet my face and entire head. Wiping off with a hand towel, I still stank from the tunnel run, but at least the stench didn’t burn my nostrils anymore.

Once Storm joined us with a succinct nod of his head to indicate the vault-like door was impenetrable, I motioned everyone to sit around the table.

Folding my fingers together, I rubbed an old scar. “This was supposed to be a simple in and out retrieval.” Running my eyes across the table, I resisted the urge to crack every single one of my knuckles. “Not gonna happen.”

Getting Down to Brass . . . Knuckles

“WE HAVE THE GENNY, water, and enough resources for a few more days,” I said.

“A few more days. What about after that?” Lawless stood, punching his hands onto the table.

“Daddy.” Tilly merely rested a hand on his arm, and the gruff old buzzard found his seat again.

“What now?” he asked more quietly.

“Now we take full stock of provisions and arms and decide how long we wait this shitstorm out before taking drastic measures.”

And I’ll just keep my eyes and hands and lips off Miss Matilda here.

“Wait it out?” Ambassador Lawless squinted at me. “What do you think we’ve been doing? If it was just me . . . I wouldn’t care.”

“Daddy. Stop. You can’t protect every single hair on my head.”

“Well, you’re just a girl. My little girl.”

Tilly snorted. “I’m a grown woman.”

Damn right she is.

“And you’re the one who took me out to the gun range and taught me how shoot a bull’s-eye.”

I’d like to see that.

The hardass swallowed his ire, and I stepped in to calm the powder keg situation. “We won’t let any harm come to Matilda—”

“Tilly.” She threw a glance at me.

“Or you, sir.”

Firming his jaw, he nodded.

With my eyes on his, I leaned forward. “So we need to know exactly what we’re up against out there. Who are they? What do they want? Why are they after you? Have they given any direct demands?”

“You can be damn sure they’re not after money. They want blood. American blood. They don’t want us on their soil. It’s as simple as that. Houthi rebels, but you probably already know that.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.”

The man sat across from me, stoic as hell. “No demands. So far as I can tell, they want a high-ranking official as a hostage to make an example of. Maybe force our embassy to close. They probably think the US will tuck tail and run if they kill me.”

Tilly pulled her lips in between her teeth but gave no other reaction as her father talked so blithely about the possibility of his death.

One strong woman.

I eased back in my seat, angling my body toward the table. “Well, the Houthis sure have a hell of a lot of firepower and manpower to keep this whole place locked down and the military forces at bay.” I grinned slightly. “All the forces except us, of course. Now we figure out what we’ve got to work with.

“Storm, you want to do the honors?” I pointed at the black-haired man who bared his teeth in a quick semblance of a smile. “Storm here’s our very own MacGyver, not to mention our very own transporter. We’ll have him check all our combined supplies. If anyone can make them stretch he can.”

“You got it.” Again Storm gave me the two-fingered salute before standing.

He amassed the ammo, assorted weapons, food, and first aid supplies after checking all the cupboards and fridge in the kitchen, and going through our four packs.

He snickered at something he found in Walker’s go-bag, and Walker shook his head with a mumbled threat.

Bane folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Think you could put a rush job on it,
MacLoser
? In case you failed to notice, got a bit of a serious situation going on outside.”

“Keep that shit up and you won’t get any rations tonight.” Storm glanced back from pooling our crap on the countertop.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. And wouldn’t be the worst time.”

Lawless peered at the two assholes like he wasn’t impressed with their bickering.

Neither was I.

“Don’t mind Dumb and Dumber,” I commented. “Like an old married couple. Love each other so much they can’t stand the sight of one another sometimes.”

“You know a lot about marriage, son?” Lawless’s chin jutted my way.

Next he’ll be calling me sonny boy.

“Only what I’ve seen from my parents.” I would not back down.

“
Hmmph.
”

“Do you carry a weapon, sir?” I asked.

“James.”

“Weapons, James. Do you have any?”

“A Glock.”

“Ammo?”

“I’ll get it.”

When he left the room, I turned to Tilly. “What about you, miss?”

“Tilly.”

I was sensing a running theme here.

“Miss Matilda—” I addressed her.

“It’s Tilly, damn you!”

“Fiery temper,” Storm commented.

“Yeah. Jade has that too.” Walker looked at Tilly appreciatively.

“Do. You. Have. A. Sidearm?” Bracing my hands on the table, I leaned toward the woman.

“I’m afraid I left my Marlin hunting rifle back home.” She blinked innocently.

Just the idea of her handling a bolt-action rifle got me hard.

What a woman indeed.

Lawless returned, handing his stash to Storm while I tried to settle my cock the fuck down.

Storm completed his survey to report, “Got enough artillery and ammo to make a pretty decent dent in the enemy. Compact RPG, machine gun, ten pistols, plenty of cartridges, knives up the wazoo—”

“
Wazoo
? Is that an official tally?” Bane asked.

“Fuck
you
. That’s official.” Storm continued, “Brass knuckles, C-4, and throwing stars.”

The ambassador whistled through his teeth. “Impressive.”

“Might not be impressive enough.” I frowned.

“Food should last the six of us five days with lean rationing. Won’t have to start cannibalizing each other for a week or so.”

“That’s good. I don’t eat bayou swamp rat.” Bane leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs.

“And I don’t eat city-street roadkill.”

Walker and I shared a
not-fucking-again
look.

“Y’all look like you could eat through that paltry pile of food in one sitting. Don’t think I’ve ever seen such big men in my life.” Tilly looked at each of us thoughtfully, finally resting the summer-green gaze on me.

An unnecessary thrill wound its way through my body with her regard.

The skin at the back of my neck grew hot, and I made sure I didn’t look at her, not for a single fucking second because Lawless stared me down with a completely different—
I’m onto you, sonny boy
—stare.

“’Course if Bane bites the bullet, more food for us.” Storm clapped his hands and rubbed them together cheerily.

“Love you too, bro.” Dropping his chair down to all four legs, Bane raised a stiff middle finger at Storm.

Taking it in stride, Storm continued, “And the rest is just Walker’s boudoir photos of Jade.”

“You are such a wanker,” Walker tossed out.

“
Ha
! Wanker? Guess you picked that up from your girl Jade.” Storm laughed until creases appeared beside his mouth.

Just one big happy family out on a pleasant vacation. In Yemen, trying to rescue the ambassador and his bangin’ daughter from a life-threatening situation.

Next time I wanted a staycation. Fuck this shit.

“Thanks, Storm.” I shut him and everyone else up with a hard glare. “What we got here is a classic scenario of who has more stamina, sir,” I addressed Lawless. “We’re gonna outlast ’em as long as we can before we make our move. Wait for them to get lazy, bored,
tired
. And I got a lot more stamina than most.” I sailed a wink in Tilly’s direction despite my best efforts.

“And on that note, I think we better figure out some sleeping quarters.” Walker stepped in before Daddy Lawless could correctly interpret my ill-timed flirtation. “Would you mind, James?”

Two hours later, we sat in the kitchen, eating our portions industriously doled out by Storm, who probably measured every precious fucking ounce.

We’d arrived by dark, and the others went to sleep by dark. Everyone billeted down, Tilly in one room with her father. Storm, Bane, and Walker in the other.

I’d cleaned up quick, eaten even more quickly, and taken the first watch. Twenty-four hours awake was nothing. Fuck, thirty-six hours, forty-eight, they all blended together sometimes.

It was the hunger that struck me. I’d never gotten hungry before the Marines.
Hungry
for action. Against my parents’ wishes, I’d become a jarhead right out of Parris Island, South Carolina. Joined up when I was twenty-two. Had to get away.

Not that there was anything wrong with my folks or their marriage despite what I’d said to Lawless. But growing up hadn’t exactly been homey-normal either. I’d been raised by two highly successful, high society, Upper East Side, New York City parents. Attended private school, had a nanny, and a trust fund I’d never touched. My mom, a fashion designer, my dad, an ad man. And me? I was supposed to be a model.

Jesus.

It had started in my teens when I’d grown into the clean-cut, arrogant all-American looks. A few ad campaigns, a few magazine spreads.

The guys already called me fucking
pretty boy
. Imagine if they knew about that sideline?

I hadn’t been back home since I’d started this gig with T-Zone.

It wasn’t that my parents were hard people, just that I’d become a hard man.

Even though I’d willingly signed up for T-Zone when they recruited me, a life like this was . . . lonely.

It was empty.

I thunked my head back against the wall I sat against, but I kept at the ready, gun barrel loosely aimed.

As empty as a Medal of Honor awarded for valor when the only thing that bravery meant was other people—
good people, better people
—died.

Awards meant nothing. Not validation. Not happiness. Not courageousness. As a Marine, I’d earned plenty of ribbons and medals to pin on my long-untouched dress uniform
and light up my chest, but that didn’t mean I fell asleep peacefully.

I hardly slept at all. And it was never peaceful.

I flipped a sharp-edged shuriken through the fingers of my free hand.

Afghanistan had been hell. Real hell. Demoralizing down to my soul
hell
.

Nothing like boot camp.

The terror never went away. Murder holes and ambushes in villages. Sweltering, sweaty days. Endlessly cold nights on recon. My fellow leathernecks dropping dead around me. And that one night. When the intel about Taliban movements in the area had been all wrong. Dirty tactics had us surrounded inside an abandoned quarter of Lashkar Gar.

The guy called Texas had been a new recruit. He wore his cowboy hat on top of his helmet whenever we weren’t in the combat zone. He threatened us with spurs up our asses whenever he was losing a poker hand during downtime. He talked big, but he kept us laughing. He put his money where his mouth was.

That fucking night Texas went down beside me.

A lot of marines went down.

“Your bedside manner sucks, Gunny.” Texas’s face was white as bleached sheets.

Sick white.

Wounded white.

“I’m not a medic,” I’d said. “Peterson. He’s—”

“Dead. Saw it. Tried to stop it. Guess that’s why this bullet’s lodged in my thigh and I’m bleeding out, Guns.”

Another round of incoming lit up the hovel.

It wasn’t just Texas.

Crockett’s hands palsied over his chest wound.

Danvers held a gauze pad to his head. But he wasn’t really conscious.

And Hill Billy—the newest booter from Boston who was big as a house—turned green before he passed out, holding his intestines in his bare hands. Texas had named him, after Bunker Hill.

The reek of fast-rotting flesh in high heat made me harden my stomach.

Texas could live.

He’d live.

“Got a plan?” he’d asked through lips stretched in a rictus of a grin.

“No.” I cleaned my hands with alki-wipes, and swabbed the bullet’s point of entry on his thigh after knifing his camo pants apart. “Get ready to embrace the suck, marine.”

No morphine. No IV. Strangled, suffocated yells. Texas nearly bit through the belt I stuffed between his gritted teeth.  

Crockett died. I didn’t even have to look over to know he’d gone.

Danvers slumped down.

Dead
.

Hill Billy’s death was a foregone conclusion as soon as the mortar ripped through his guts.

I hunkered over Texas whenever fresh gunfire razed through the building from the outside. And every time there was a lull in the ongoing attacks, I tried to patch him up.

I don’t even remember what I did to him.

I try not to remember
.