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Soldier For Hire
Kimberly Van Meter


Framed and fighting for his life…Time is running out for veteran Xander Scott. Falsely labeled a murderer, he has the most dogged woman, Scarlett Rhodes, on his trail. To complicate things, not only is she his former boss, but she’s also his ex-lover.She’s willing to help him uncover this elaborate frame job. If he’s innocent, she’ll clear his name. But Scarlett doesn’t know what Xander is truly guilty of…







Framed and fighting for his life...

The first Military Precision Heroes novel

Time is running out for veteran Xander Scott. Falsely labeled a murderer, he has the most dogged woman, Scarlett Rhodes, on his trail. To complicate things, not only is she his former boss, but she’s also his ex-lover. She’s willing to help him uncover this elaborate frame job. If he’s innocent, she’ll clear his name. But Scarlett doesn’t know what Xander is truly guilty of...


KIMBERLY VAN METER wrote her first book at sixteen and finally achieved publication in December 2006. She has written for the Mills & Boon Superromance, Blaze and Romantic Suspense lines. She and her husband of seventeen years have three children, three cats, and always a houseful of friends, family and fun.


Also By Kimberly Van Meter (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)

Military Precision Heroes

Soldier for Hire

The Sniper

The Agent’s Surrender

Moving Target

Deep Cover

The Killer You Know

Family in Paradise

Like One of the Family

Playing the Part

Something to Believe In

The Sinclairs of Alaska

That Reckless Night

A Real Live Hero

A Sinclair Homecoming

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Soldier for Hire

Kimberly Van Meter






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07963-1

SOLDIER FOR HIRE

© 2018 Kimberly Sheetz

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


“I told them the truth...” Xander said.

“The truth?”

“Yeah, that I was investigating McQuarry’s death.”

“From what angle?”

“I was vague on that point, but they took the bait without much more needed.”

“Interesting. All right, what time?”

“In an hour with the widow, lunchtime with the mistress.”

Scarlett nodded with approval. “Good. Let’s make it happen. Time is ticking.”

Grabbing her coat, she swung it around her shoulders but was surprised when Xander pulled her close by her lapels.

“What are you doing?” she asked, wary.

“Just reminding you what’s between us,” he answered, brushing his lips against hers, igniting heat with the slow slide of his mouth. She didn’t need reminding. Her mouth opened and his tongue accepted the invitation, dancing with hers. A dangerous fire burned between them but they didn’t have the time to play. It took extreme force of will to break the kiss but she did. Xander released her and she left everything unsaid, choosing to spin on her heel and walk out the door.


Dear Reader (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080),

I love writing stories with incredibly high stakes, impossible situations and intense passion—and, boy, I hit the jackpot with this one!

A word of caution while reading this book: don’t forget to breathe! There were so many times while writing this story that I found myself holding my breath because there was so much happening, and I hope you find it just as exciting as I did.

I love hearing from readers. Connect with me on Facebook or Twitter, or drop me an email. You can also write me a letter at PO Box 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361.

Happy reading!

Kimberly


This book is dedicated to all the hardworking, dedicated women out there making things happen in their universe; those not afraid to be strong, to be leaders, to be role models. We need more of you in the world today as we face an uncertain future.

Strong women: may we know them; may we raise them.

And finally, to my daughter...you are already everything I ever wanted to be, but you’re doing it ten times better and with more grace. I don’t say it enough but I love you more than you’ll ever know.


Contents

Cover (#uc2d8c166-5d59-5880-91e4-a9937c01967c)

Back Cover Text (#ud1c7e3e7-39a3-56cb-8c61-cbd7d50909e2)

About the Author (#ucdf55671-4e1c-57af-8249-dd4ed777528f)

Booklist (#u290bc059-2ab1-58ca-9b2d-ae6bb4fde02f)

Title Page (#uc3934ff6-94d9-56b8-a9ce-e0f50e1404f8)

Copyright (#u55a4d84b-aa4a-52fa-b8b1-af47b3000f4a)

Introduction (#ub0f58694-efdd-55cd-9770-bc6e148f7772)

Dear Reader (#ua7ac8667-5dd1-5767-838f-8b69f0da744b)

Dedication (#uf19f3135-5508-59ea-aee0-23291f1d7b5b)

Chapter 1 (#ud5651d4d-50f3-5823-914e-1e6ac3f3a81a)

Chapter 2 (#u896ca493-fb20-51af-a035-a6d60298c22d)

Chapter 3 (#udcc1e5c4-6ea7-5c24-afb5-2df71c030393)

Chapter 4 (#u1408fbd6-5c55-538e-b977-eabcad8635d7)

Chapter 5 (#udcdc5202-63df-5fc2-836d-148467b36edb)

Chapter 6 (#u65939ddb-cf2b-5ac5-8e85-90b74e630b8e)

Chapter 7 (#uf3cf5994-99c0-51d4-b214-73a7f11e79f7)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter 1 (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)


“You know how this is going to end, Xander.”

Xander Scott melted against the wall, clinging to the shadows as his former Red Wolf team leader, Scarlett Rhodes, tried to convince him to come out peacefully, knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen.

Naw, everything had already gone sidewise; Scarlett knew he wasn’t going to go meekly to his own destruction but, hey, he gave her props for tenacity. The woman wasn’t known for her soft and fuzzy side—hell, that was one of the things Xander liked about her—but right about now, he wished Scarlett was a little less rigid so she’d listen to what he was trying to tell her instead of hauling his ass in over some bullshit frame job.

“I didn’t do it, Rhodes,” he said, quickly assessing his position within the abandoned building, stalling for time. Scarlett had found him faster than he’d anticipated, zeroing in on his location like a bloodhound, but he knew her tactics, which was his only saving grace, otherwise she would’ve had him trussed up like a Christmas turkey ready for the table.

Well, that and the fact that while Scarlett played by the rules, Xander didn’t.

“Looking pretty guilty from my end. Innocent people don’t run,” she replied, the sound of her changing position pricking Xander’s ears. “But turn yourself in and we’ll talk about it.”

Xander chuckled grimly. Yeah, we’ll talk about it. Sure. “Think about it, Rhodes. It doesn’t make sense. I’m being framed and you know it.”

“Turn yourself in.”

“Screw you, Rhodes,” he muttered, his gaze catching on the dirty window. They were on the third floor. A jump from that height would break bones at the very least. He was partial to his limbs remaining intact. Besides, Scarlett would have all exit points covered. She’d have a guy stationed in the stairwell, at the fire escape and all back doors. Scarlett was nothing if not efficient. “Why would I have any reason to hurt innocent people? Granted, politicians are scum but I had no beef with McQuarry. You’re barking up the wrong damn tree.”

“Cut the crap, Xander. You’re wasting time. You know you’re surrounded. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. If you’re innocent, you’ve got nothing to worry about. But right now, you’re just making things worse by running.”

Xander blew out a short breath, still trying to figure out how he’d gotten to this moment.

One minute he was going day to day—maybe a little rough around the edges, maybe playing fast and loose with a few rules but for the most part, things had been good.

Manageable.

Sure, sometimes he still woke up, drenched in cold sweat, heart hammering like a meth head after a fresh rail, hands curled in fists ready to swing to the death, but who didn’t, right?

Okay, so maybe not everyone had a psych eval that read like a cautionary tale but then not everyone had seen or done the things he had in the service of the good ol’ US of A.

Did he set the pipe bomb that killed Senator Ken McQuarry three months ago at a political rally in Tulsa? Hell, no.

At least, he didn’t think so.

Yeah, and that was the problem. He couldn’t actually remember that day so well.

Sweat popped along his hairline. “You know whoever’s framing me for this has done their homework. They knew I had a background in the bomb squad. I was cherry-picked. A little too convenient, though, don’t you think? I had no motive, Rhodes.”

He was trying to appeal to that stubborn logic locked inside Rhodes’s skull, but the redhead was like a dog with a bone—single-minded and hungry for the marrow behind the crunch. “You know me, Rhodes,” he said in one last attempt to get her to see she was fighting the wrong fight. “I mean, you really know me. Ask yourself if any of this bullshit sounds legit.”

Xander was playing with fire. No one knew about him and Rhodes. They’d both agreed to keep it that way for the sake of their careers.

But he had to play any card he could.

A pregnant pause almost gave him a glimmer of hope until Rhodes said, “Doesn’t matter. It’s not my job to determine if you’re guilty or not. It’s just my job to bring you in.”

Well, it’d been worth a try. He inched a tiny pocket mirror out so he could peer around the corner. Scarlett, looking dangerous as a coiled viper, covered in SWAT gear, her red hair pulled back in an efficient bun, her gun drawn, waited for him to make his move.

God, she was hot.

Even when she was determined to deliver his head on a platter.

Sorry, Rhodes. That’s not happening today.

Xander tucked the pocket mirror away and quietly pulled the pin on the flash bomb, lobbing it in Scarlett’s direction. The short bang and immediate smoke created cover, but it would only last a moment. Xander rolled under the smoke and popped up behind Scarlett, jerking her to him, his elbow hard across her windpipe, while the barrel of his gun pressed into the narrow opening exposing her rib cage.

“Damn you,” Scarlett growled. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t fight fair.”

“And why would I do that?” he asked. “Especially given the fact that whoever is trying to drag me down for a crime I didn’t commit isn’t exactly playing fair, either?”

“What’s your move now? The building is surrounded. Your little smoke show didn’t do anything but clog up my sinuses. Congratulations, snot.”

He chuckled. “You know, someday your sarcasm is going to put you in hot water. You’re lucky I’m not a psychopath or at the very least, a sociopath without a sense of humor.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny.”

“Ouch. Kitty cat has claws, but then I remember that from the scratches you left on my back.”

“Screw you, Xander,” she bit out, her muscles tensing. He would only be able to hold her like this for a few minutes longer and she knew it. He’d sparred with her enough times to know Scarlett was deadly with her hands and feet.

“Maybe later,” he quipped, but now wasn’t the time to trade witty banter. “Look, if you’re really interested in finding out who set that bomb, start looking in the opposite direction of where you’re being told to look. It’s the oldest trick in the book—sleight of hand—and you’re falling for it. You’re better than that, Rhodes.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job,” she growled, and he knew his time was up. As much as he hated to do it, he couldn’t very well let go of the tiger’s tail and just hope for the best. With one quick motion, he brought the butt of his gun down hard on her head, knocking her out cold.

Her pride might sting and she was going to have one helluva headache but after a few days of rest, she’d be fine.

Lord help him if she managed to catch him after this incident. Scarlett would likely lop off his balls just for fun.

Scarlett opened her eyes to a fog, her vision swimming and her head in an excruciating vise. She struggled to regain her equilibrium but Xander had gotten her good.

Damn asshole had nearly caved her skull in.

Through her bleary vision, she realized she was being loaded into an ambulance, which meant Xander had used her as a distraction to get away.

She swore under her breath, struggling to get up but the EMTs started saying things like “Whoa,” “Hold on, be still,” “you’ve sustained a concussion,” and she knew she was stuck with an ambulance ride to the hospital, which would only give Xander an even bigger head start.

“I’m fine,” she protested but no one was listening. Zak Ramsey, part of her team, crowded into the ambulance beside her and she closed her eyes to stem the spinning. She didn’t want the company but that was only because she was fuming mad that Xander had gotten the drop on her and she was embarrassed.

She was the team leader, not a rook.

And yet, Xander had practically waltzed free from the building they’d had completely zipped up.

Until he’d used her as bait to get away.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice little more than an aggrieved croak.

“We heard a single shot and came up to your location. We found you on the ground, bleeding from the head and Xander gone.”

In spite of herself, a smile formed. “SOB fired off a shot so you’d break off to provide support, which left the exits wide open. Brilliant, actually.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what we figured, too, once we saw that you weren’t actually shot.”

“Xander wouldn’t have shot me,” Scarlett said. It seemed counterintuitive to say she knew Xander wouldn’t gun her down in cold blood, yet she was determined to bring him in for allegedly setting the bomb that’d killed a US senator and a handful of civilians a few months ago. She couldn’t explain it but she just knew that Xander wouldn’t do something like that to her.

She reached up to gingerly touch the spot where he’d clocked her and she’d no doubt end up with a goose egg for her failure.

“Why the hell are you grinning, TL?” Zak asked, confused. She didn’t blame him. The whole damn situation was confusing. Going after one of their own? Yeah, it was confusing as hell.

“I’m smiling because he’s good,” Scarlett admitted with a rueful chuckle. “If he’d wanted to hurt me, I wouldn’t be here suffering a useless ambulance ride to the hospital. He knows protocol will demand tests to ensure I’m okay. The tests will show a minor concussion and I’ll be pulled off the case for a few days, giving him time to get that much farther away. Like I said, brilliant.”

Zak grinned, too. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He gestured to Scarlett’s bandaged head. “I bet that hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“It didn’t tickle,” Scarlett retorted, wincing as a wave of pain almost made her nauseous.

“You need to try and relax,” the EMT warned, but Scarlett just rolled her eyes. She’d had worse than a bump on the head.

To the EMT, she assured him, “I’m fine. This is just protocol. I’ll be out in a few hours.”

The EMT disagreed. “You took a pretty hard knock.”

“I got this,” Scarlett said, waving away the EMT’s concern to the man’s disgust. She didn’t care about hurt feelings. Returning to Zak, she said, “Xander knew just where to crack me in the head to get the job done without knocking my lights out permanently.”

“Talent. Did he say anything to you before taking you out?” Zak asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?”

“That he’s innocent.”

Zak frowned, shaking his head. “Do you believe him?”

“Not my job to believe him,” Scarlett answered, closing her eyes again when the vertigo became unbearable. “Just my job to bring him in. The attorneys can sort the rest.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit this whole case stinks of rotten eggs. I mean, Xander’s an asshole, sure, but we both know he’s not the kind of guy to kill innocent civilians. Maybe he’s right... Maybe someone is framing him.”

“Well, we’re not PIs, Ramsey,” Scarlett retorted, if only to remind herself as well. Something was tugging at her brain, aside from the constant and excruciating thud of her heartbeat inside her head, and she didn’t like it.

Smart criminals had a way of getting inside people’s heads—and Xander was smarter than most. Hell, he had a ridiculous IQ, not that anyone would know by his baffling penchant for reality television. The man could binge-watch episodes of The Bachelor for hours on end when the same programming would make Scarlett put a gun in her mouth if she had to suffer more than ten minutes of the crap.

Xander also had the worst eating habits she’d ever seen of a former army ranger. Xander treated his body like a dumpster rather than a temple and yet somehow, he still managed to beat her PT times.

And it had nothing to do with muscle mass or any of that shit. Somehow, Xander had figured out how to convert processed sugars and carbs into high-octane fuel for his body when the same diet would’ve sent normal people into diabetic comas.

“Where’s the rest of the team?” she asked.

“I sent them back to the hotel to await further instructions.”

Red Wolf Elite was based out of McClean, Virginia, which was a veritable hotbed of special forces, FBI and military personnel, so when Xander’s trail hadn’t left the state, she’d been surprised. Not that he would stick around now that the welcome wagon had almost managed to catch him. It would take a few days of R&R before she could be cleared for the field again, but she wasn’t about to send the team home, not when they’d come so close to catching him.

As much as she hated to entertain the bent of her thoughts, questions that’d sprung up the minute his file had crossed her desk, rose with sharper clarity.

Xander had been right about one thing—there were details in this case that made no sense.

But then when did terrorists ever make sense?

Was she willing to believe that Xander Scott, a highly decorated former army ranger, was capable of killing innocent people to get to one politician?

A politician who Xander claimed he didn’t know shit about until Red Wolf had been hired as security detail for the rally?

Xander had been the first to scoff at the detail, saying they weren’t babysitters.

True, they were a highly skilled, elite force of former military badasses working for a private military company.

PMCs were making big money right now with the US government hiring out details in the Middle East instead of sending troops to deal with any problems left in the wake of military conflicts.

The money was good, and it gave retired soldiers a place to feel useful when civilian life wasn’t in the cards for them.

So yeah, when the detail came across her desk, she’d rolled her eyes in private but she wasn’t the one signing checks so she went where she was told.

Except Xander had voiced what they’d all felt.

Playing security guard to a pampered, doughy, left-wing senator trying to get the conservative vote for his re-election campaign was definitely below their pay grade, but Scarlett packed up her team and they went as ordered.

Now she wished she’d conveniently discovered a schedule conflict for that detail.

You’re better than this, Rhodes...

Xander’s voice urged her to dig deeper, to look beyond the flash bomb creating the sound and smoke to find who’d actually thrown the thing in the first place...and why.

Damn you, Xander.




Chapter 2 (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)


The thing about knocking boots with someone you aren’t supposed to see naked—say, your boss—the sex was damn electric.

So electric that it haunted your dreams and left you with a need so aching you’d do anything to make it stop.

Yeah, so that happened on the regular.

It wasn’t so bad when he’d been home, in his own bed. But now, on the run, sleeping in a rattrap motel, on sheets that smelled of bad choices and infrequent washings, an erection was damn inconvenient.

He wasn’t much in the mood for lovin’.

He closed his eyes but Scarlett was there.

Naked Scarlett.

That night had been epic—whether that fell in the good or bad column, he still wasn’t sure—but damn, it sure left behind a scorch mark.

Basically, they’d been celebrating a successful completion to a complicated detail and they’d all headed down to the local pub to blow off some steam. Usually, Scarlett broke off from the team when it came to slugging back shots—said it looked bad for the TL to get sloppy with the team—but that night, she’d agreed to have a beer with them.

Maybe she hadn’t liked the idea of celebrating alone, or maybe it’d been something more personal, but when she’d said yes, Xander had been just as surprised as everyone else.

As it turned out, their TL could hold her liquor pretty damn well and that led to a friendly competition—which then turned into a liver-destroying expedition.

Ahh, tequila, why are you such a harsh bitch?

While everyone else tapped out, Xander and Scarlett kept at it.

Until... Well, suddenly, they were done with shots and they were in Scarlett’s apartment, naked and making even worse choices.

But, hot damn, those choices had led to some seriously awesome sex.

Xander pushed at his stubborn erection, irritated by its refusal to calm down.

He didn’t care how amped up he got—he wasn’t about to jerk off in this disgusting place. A guy had to have his standards.

As the TL, Scarlett was rigid, by-the-book, hard-ass, hard-nosed, with zero-tolerance for bullshit.

As a lover, Scarlett was wild, insatiable, dangerous and intoxicating as hell.

Basically, it’d been like having sex with Scarlett’s black-sheep twin with daddy issues.

There’d been biting, scratching, howling, grunts, sweat and the smell of raunchy sex.

Like he’d said—epic.

Until morning.

Then things had gotten awkward...fast.

“I think we can both agree this was a mistake,” Scarlett had said stiffly over her coffee mug, her rumpled hair sexier than anything Xander had ever seen, even if her expression had returned to that of his hard-nosed TL. “You’re welcome to a cup of coffee, but then you’re going to need to go home.”

Usually, he was the one giving that speech. Felt different being the receiver. “Either the sex was that good...or that bad. Do I want to know where I landed on that scale?”

“The sex was good.”

“Just good?”

“Are you looking for a medal, because I’m fresh out of those.”

“Too bad, I’m sure a medal for sex would look pretty good against the ones Uncle Sam gave me for meritorious service.” He waited while Scarlett poured coffee into a mug and pushed it across the counter toward him. He grabbed the mug and took an exploratory sip. The hot bracing liquid was black enough to put hair on his chest but he choked it down, not wanting to look like a pussy by asking for cream. “So, out of curiosity...if it was so good, why the one-and-done?”

“Because I’m your superior and it’s inappropriate. Sex last night was a lapse in judgment and I’d appreciate it if we could keep this private.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, realizing she was right. Scarlett was a good TL and he didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize her position within Red Wolf. But he wasn’t going to lie, he would’ve been down for a few more rounds. “It’s a shame, though. We are pretty good together. Between the sheets, anyway.”

That tiny smile she allowed told him she agreed but Scarlett wasn’t one to mess with the rules. Her bones could’ve melted from pleasure but she’d still stick to her guns. Xander respected her attention to detail and the way she held the line but damn, his ego would’ve lapped up the cream if she’d swayed even the slightest in his direction.

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 that redemption wasn’t in the cards for most.

They’d all done things in the service of their country that had left scars, nightmares and broken off a piece of their souls.

But hey, that was the job.

And they accepted it.

Scarlett closed the laptop, knowing she wasn’t going to find the answer there. In spite of her gut instinct telling her to screw the evidence, she had to trust the process. If Xander was innocent of the charges, the courts would exonerate him.

It wasn’t her job to prove his innocence.

It was her job to bring him in—and that’s exactly what she was going to do.




Chapter 3 (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)


Xander kinda wished he could call up his buddy Zak and rub it in his face that a certain level of mistrust in banking institutions had worked out in his favor.

When you were on the run, cash was king. Seeing as Xander had kept his money in weird little stashes around his apartment, when he’d made the decision to cut out and run before Scarlett could bring him in, being able to stuff his bag with cash had been a plus.

It wasn’t like he could’ve waltzed up to an ATM to pull out his money because then his face would’ve shown up on the Big Brother spy network. And yeah, if people didn’t believe that all their shit was on display in some techno-nerd’s deep web, they were naive.

And the government was the biggest techno-nerd around.

But Xander was prepared. He had a wad of cash, a burner phone and a laptop with the latest encryption software that zing-zanged around the globe for IP addresses so if he needed to nose around for intel, he could do so without risking a trip to the city library to use their public terminals.

Still, being on the run wasn’t chill.

It sucked.

Not to be a wimp about it, but he missed his bed. Too many tours on the ground had turned him into a crotchety old man when he didn’t get a good night’s sleep on his expensive Tempur-Pedic.

He chuckled, hearing in his head how the team would’ve busted his balls for being such a baby. God, he missed those guys already.

He’d give his life for any of them. Even Scarlett.

Irony, right?

Xander wasn’t going to hold it against them that they were following orders. Although, he kinda wished they’d given him more of the benefit but that was selfish, and it went against their ingrained training. Soldiers followed rules or people died.

He wanted to shake some sense into Scarlett so she’d recognize that Red Wolf was being used to do someone else’s dirty work.

But until he could show her that he was right, she was going to chase him down. Simple as that.

The neon light of the dive bar beneath the seedy motel gave the room a reddish glow, appropriate for the rattrap but it served his purposes.

The place reminded him of a roach motel he’d crashed in once in a while in DC. At the time he’d found the parallel between the place where self-important men made decisions that affected everyone, except themselves, was a seething cesspit of political bullshit where people smiled right before they plunged the knife in their so-called allies’ backs and the shitty motel amusing. Xander couldn’t take the hypocrisy any longer, which was why he’d gotten out of the Rangers, but found, like most Red Wolf team members, there just wasn’t a place for guys like him in society.

Red Wolf had been his sanctuary, his lifeline.

Once again, he’d found purpose. And, not gonna lie, the pay was pretty sweet, too. But then the private sector had always been superior on the pay scale in comparison to government work.

Unless you were so far up the chain you could sniff what Uncle Sam had for dinner the night before. Xander had known that he’d never be cut out for that kind of work, so getting out and doing merc work with a private company would’ve been his only option.

Until Red Wolf had approached him.

Yeah, Red Wolf wasn’t a place that advertised on Craigslist for job opportunities. No, they sought out their targets carefully and then made a surgical strike, quietly and efficiently.

Xander sighed, giving into a moment of self-pity before reaching into his shirt pocket for his meds.

He grimaced as he shifted in the bed, his back clenching in an angry spasm, reminding him who was in charge. He washed down the potent painkiller with a generous swallow of his beer.

He was no different than most in his position. His body was screwed and tattooed. Literally. But chicks dig scars, right? Yeah, but did chicks dig drug addicts?

His body had been broken and mended back together again one too many times. The pain was just a part of who he was now. The painkillers were part of his management.

That was the story he told the docs and they’d bought into it for a long time, but then government regs changed and the lockdown on narcotics got downright militant.

He’d gone from getting his shit the legitimate way to paying an exorbitant amount to a man named Pablo who sold him Oxy by the tab.

And he needed more and more just to get through the day.

Okay, and maybe sometimes he took a little more than he needed but who didn’t play fast and loose with prescription drugs these days? Hell, college kids lived off Adderall during exams and that was perfectly fine when everyone knew it was just legal amphetamines. But hey, it’s all good...until they get caught and then mommy and daddy throw a fit, demanding to know how little Johnny got his hands on something so addictive.

Maybe the doc should’ve warned Xander how addictive Oxy could be; maybe it would’ve made him look for an alternative.

Hell, there were a lot of what-ifs but what good did they do? Didn’t change the facts of what’d happened in Tulsa.

Scarlett wanted to know why he’d run?

Because he was guilty.

Not of setting that bomb—No, he’d never do something so cowardly as to kill innocent people.

But make no mistake, he was guilty as hell.

And whoever had set him up knew of his little problem.

Former bomb-squad, Army ranger and current drug addict.

Yeah, his life read like a damn play-by-play for how to draw a direct line toward the easiest chump to take the fall.

The evidence may be circumstantial but Xander would make a terrible witness.

They’d take one look at the evidence—Xander couldn’t account for his whereabouts when the bomb went off because he couldn’t remember shit about that day—and they’d lock him up tight.

The people wanted a head on a spike for what’d happened in Tulsa.

And someone had already prepared Xander’s skull for the presentation.

His eyelids started to drag, his head to bob.

First thing tomorrow, he’d...

And he was out.

The team stared, some frowning, some bewildered.

Zak was the first to break the stunned silence. “No. You’re not going alone. We’re coming with you.”

Scarlett hadn’t slept at all last night. She knew what she needed to do, and she didn’t want anyone else to end up as collateral damage if things went south.

She’d spent the night trying to talk her way out of this one decision but by morning, she’d known there was only one way this situation could go down.

“Look, here’s the situation. I can move faster without a detail slowing me down. Xander is on a ticking clock. If we don’t bring him in, the FBI will take over and any chance Xander has of beating this will disappear.”

Zak narrowed his gaze. “You believe he’s innocent.”

“I don’t know that,” Scarlett said, shaking her head. “But there are questions that I can’t answer and my gut is saying... Hell, I don’t know but I can’t let someone else bring Xander in. If he’s guilty, I need to be the one who brings him in. He’s one of our own.”

“All the more reason why we should help.”

“I need you back at headquarters being my eyes and ears. You’re going to need to run interference if too much attention swivels Xander’s way. Trust me, this is going to be a bitch for everyone involved but I can’t deny that something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a lot to admit that to her team when she’d been the most adamant that they weren’t there to uncover any hidden truths about the case.

She’d learned a long time ago that ignoring her gut was a bad idea, which meant she was about to do something either really stupid or really dangerous—either one would probably kill her career or put her in the ground but she knew it was the right decision.

However, she wasn’t going to put her team at risk. “I don’t need any of you in the direct line of fire. If Xander is right and someone is framing him, that means we could have a snake in our home. If Xander is lying and he’s just trying to save his ass, I need to be the one to bring him down.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, let’s shake out the traitor,” CJ said with a gleeful smile because CJ was a little crazy. “Holyyy shit, I’m ready.”

Zak cast CJ a warning look before returning to Scarlett. “We need a timeframe. How long?”

“FBI is going to start sniffing around after a week. If I haven’t found him by then, there’s nothing else we can do. But until then, you’ve got my six here at HQ. No communication through our regular phones. We’ll use burners for any intel on this mission. Any questions?”

Laird piped in. “Yeah, what happens if he’s actually guilty?”

Scarlett allowed a grim smile. “Then, I’ll do what I do best... Bring the asshole down.”

“Simmer down. He’s not guilty,” Zak said to Laird, then to Scarlett, “I don’t like it. You need backup. Anything could go wrong.”

“Xander isn’t going to hurt me.”

“Well, he did nearly crush your skull,” CJ pointed out with a shrug. “I mean, that was pretty savage.”

“He didn’t nearly crush my skull, CJ. He knocked me out to gain time to get away. It was my stupid mistake to let him get the tactical advantage. I swear, I’ll never live this down.”

The team chuckled in spite of the serious situation but that was their MO. Make jokes before heading into a screwed-up situation.

“Fine. I don’t like it but I see your plan,” Zak said, sighing as he straightened. “We’ll get burners and hold down the fort, make it look like business as usual.”

“Good.” Scarlett released a pent-up breath, relieved. With Zak on board, he’d get the rest of the team in line. “So, from now on, this mission is locked down, eyes only. Code name Double Down.”

CJ grinned. “Yeah baby, ’cuz it’s all or nothing in this game.”

“Exactly,” Scarlett said, nodding. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, are you sure you can handle Xander if he’s guilty? I mean, I’m the last person to even want to think that it’s possible, but we’ve all seen people we trust go bad for whatever reasons. I love the guy, I do. But Xander has always been a wild card,” Laird said.

Laird was right. They’d all seen the ugly side of humanity at one point or another because combat situations were hell and greed was an insidious evil. But there was something in her gut that told her Xander wouldn’t hurt her.

Even if he was guilty. “I can handle Xander,” she assured Laird but she hoped to God her intuition wasn’t wrong. She was putting her career and her life on the line for the dipshit and he’d better be straight about the facts or she’d happily throat punch him.

Plan in place, they broke off like a well-oiled machine. Scarlett had been the TL for this team for three years. She knew them well and trusted them more.

Even Xander.

Trust was a funny thing, though. Either it was strong as steel or fragile as glass, but you never knew how well it was going to hold up until tested.

Well, she was about to find out if she was standing on steel or falling through glass.

Time to double down, baby.




Chapter 4 (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)


Xander knew concussion protocol would require Scarlett go through bureaucratic hoops to ensure her brain was okay after he’d knocked her out, which meant he had a finite amount of time to put some distance between them.

He had to get to Tulsa, back to the scene of the crime, to see if anything jogged his memory about that day. Thank God, he had a duffel of cash; otherwise, he’d be driving nineteen hours instead of taking a four-hour flight.

Admittedly, he was taking a risk flying, even with a fake ID, mostly because Scarlett knew his aliases and once she was cleared for duty she’d find his destination pretty quick, but he didn’t have the luxury of taking things safe.

He had to hope that Scarlett didn’t tell those bureaucrats to shove it and hop back on his tail like the maniac she was.

God, that woman... If she weren’t so damn hot, he’d say she was crazier than him.

Not his kind of crazy—no, Scarlett was more controlled—but still, you couldn’t lead a Red Wolf team without being a little left of center. None of them were right in the head, which was how they were able to do the jobs they were assigned without batting an eye.

But it also made believing that he could blow up a bunch of civilians to get to one politician totally plausible.

Hell, no one was looking twice at that story.

Messed up vet with a checkered past and a previously unknown prescription drug addiction—yeah, he knew just how perfect he was for this frame job but it pissed him off that Scarlett was playing into the game.

She knew him.

She, of all people, should’ve been able to see through that smoke screen and then he wouldn’t have had to knock her lights out.

Although, if he managed to clear his name and get his job back, he was totally going to rub Scarlett’s nose in the fact that he’d gotten the jump on her. Actually, that thought gave him the warm fuzzies. Lord knew he had precious little of those to pass around.

He grabbed an Uber to the airport, made quick work of buying a ticket on the first flight out of Virginia and settled into his seat, prepared to sleep through the four-hour plane ride. With any luck, his resting asshole face would deter any eager Chatty Kathys from striking up a convo. He wanted to shut his eyes, slip into dreamland and wake up in the dreary nothingness that was Oklahoma.

His lids had only just closed when he heard a familiar voice.

“You’re getting sloppy, Scott.”

His eyes opened slowly to find Scarlett standing in the aisle, looking pissed and deadly as hell. He wanted to say she wouldn’t shoot him in front of all these passengers but he was willing to guess her trigger finger was damn itchy after what he’d done.

Damn it. He should’ve rented a car. “You going to stand there all day? You’re gumming up traffic.”

Scarlett smirked as she swung into the seat beside him, flashing her ticket at him. “Looks like we’re travel buddies.”

He eyed her warily. “Yeah? And how do you figure that?”

Scarlett leaned toward him, her voice lowered to a sexy rumble. “Well, it seems this is your lucky day, Scott. I’m going to see for myself if your story is total bullshit. If it turns out you’re innocent, I get a valuable member of my team back. If it turns out you’re a damn liar, I get to put you away. Either way, it’s a win for me. So yeah, buckle up, baby, you’ve got yourself a travel buddy.”

Awww hell. He didn’t want Scarlett riding shotgun with him on this adventure but the way he saw it, he didn’t have much of a choice. Either he accepted Scarlett’s dubious help or he tried to ditch her again and spend the entire time looking over his shoulder for one angry TL who was a crack shot.

Yeah, seemed better to play nice.

Xander chuckled and shrugged. “Guess it is my lucky day. The team on board with this?”

“I wouldn’t be here if they weren’t.”

He didn’t want to seem like a sap but it meant something that the team was willing to take a chance on him. He jerked a nod and sent his gaze out the small window, needing a minute to collect himself. He wasn’t usually a crier but this hit all the feels in all the tender spots.

“You going to cry?” Scarlett asked, frowning. “Pull yourself together or I’ll put a bullet in your kneecap.”

He laughed, not entirely sure that she was joking. “How’s that head of yours?”

“Pounding like a mother. You clocked me good and don’t think for a second that I’m not going to pay you back for that one.”

“Oh, I know you will.”

“Good.”

Maybe he was an asshole but he took a certain amount of pride for getting the jump on Scarlett. She was TL for a reason—shrewd, smart and always on target—Scarlett didn’t mess around. “Admit it... I got you good,” Xander couldn’t resist teasing, even though he knew poking at Scarlett was like poking at an angry bear.

She leveled a short look his way and changed the subject. All business. “What’s your plan?” she asked.

“My plan? Well, presently, I plan to sleep. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been on the run for the past week and a half and it hasn’t exactly been a vacation filled with rest and relaxation.”

“Boo-hoo. You shouldn’t have run in the first place.” She had zero sympathy. “If you would’ve trusted your team, we could’ve handled this the right way. Now we have to do things the wrong way and that means it’s going to be ten times harder than it needs to be.”

“Yeah? So turning myself in would’ve been the right way? What makes you think that I wouldn’t have met an untimely end while in custody? Something tells me that whoever is framing me isn’t real keen on having me around for long. Dead men tell no tales and all that.”

She conceded his point. “Still, you made it worse by running. You could’ve at least told me.”

There was something behind her curt response that tugged at his conscience. Did Scarlet have feelings? And if so, had he inadvertently stepped on them? To be real, that was more disconcerting than the idea of being framed. “Yeah well, hindsight and all that. Kinda hard to think rationally when you’re being framed for a crime you didn’t commit.”

“Copy that,” Scarlett acknowledged with a solemn nod, then added, “But you have to believe in your team. You know that without the strength of your team behind you, a mission is bound to fail. You panicked—and that’s exactly what a rookie would do.”

He disagreed. “You call it panic—I call it calculated self-defense. I wasn’t about to give up my control and walk into a potential ambush like a lamb to slaughter. Sorry, it is what it is, but that ain’t happening.”

The idea of walking meekly into anything remotely close to what Scarlett had been suggesting made his balls shrivel up.

Scarlett could tell he wasn’t going to budge and she wasn’t going to waste the energy, which was good because he was done talking about it anyway. Pulling his ball cap down low, he folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

“You’re really going to sleep?”

“Mmmhhmmm.”

“Damn it, Xander. We need a strategy.”

“No, I need sleep. It’s two and a half hours to Oklahoma. Cool your jets until we land. Read a magazine or something.”

Scarlett exhaled in irritation, muttering under her breath, “You’re making it real hard to remember why I’m putting my ass on the line for you.”

He smirked from beneath his ball cap. Because I’m the best dick you’ve ever had, baby. In the interest of self-preservation...he kept that comment to himself.

Scarlett was fuming.

She narrowed her gaze at Xander—who, by the way, was already lightly snoring as if he were sacked out in the Hilton and not folded into an economy seat two sizes too small for his solid frame—and wanted to shove him out the plug door.

And if she took a moment to enjoy the image of Xander flailing from the plane at thirty-thousand feet elevation, she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt, mostly because her head hurt and that was squarely Xander’s fault.

She’d purposely purchased the seat next to her so that no one else would be sitting in close quarters to them; the last thing she needed was some yahoo eavesdropping on their conversation.

But as it turned out, the extra seat was unnecessary. Well, Xander was going to pay her back for that extra seat, seeing as she’d purchased it with her own money.

Almost three hours to kill and Xander was off to la-la land, sleeping like the dead. Scarlett grabbed the in-flight magazine and thumbed through it, not really looking at anything in particular, just using it as a distraction.

But her mind was difficult to distract.

Part of the reason she suffered from insomnia.

Her brain didn’t recognize the “off” switch.

And one of the memories her brain liked to chew on was that night with Xander.

First, it had been an epic mistake. Let’s just get that out of the way right now.

Second, it had been the best sex of her life.

Third, she had been pretty drunk so it was possible her recollection of the event couldn’t be trusted.

Yet, knowing that she’d been sauced didn’t seem to water down what she did remember.

Xander, his body crisscrossed with scars and tattoos—she was a sucker for both—with muscle cording that solid frame like he’d been carved from stone and his hands, calloused and rough like a real man’s should be, touching her bare skin with urgency.

Yeah, that kind of loving was hard to forget.

It didn’t help that she’d been in a bit of a drought, either—did three years qualify as a drought or a cry for help?—and she’d been about ready to hump the table leg.

The liquor had only made that need for human contact worse.

Most people didn’t understand their job, how ending an assignment successfully is an adrenaline rush unlike any drug and if that adrenaline wasn’t channeled, it turned restless, which with their demons, was dangerous.

Blowing off steam was a necessity, not a luxury. Usually, she went off on her own but that night she’d needed companionship.

She’d known better than to drink with the guys, especially Xander, but she’d been weak. There was no way to pretty that up and she hated that she’d succumbed to her baser needs with barely a fight.

But there’d always been something between her and Xander, that tiny spark that was hard to ignore. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief most days made her stomach tremble and when that intensity swiveled her way, she about melted in the most feminine way imaginable.

And it freaked her out.

Scarlett was more comfortable with the prospect of shooting people than opening up to another human being. Being vulnerable—no, thanks.

So why’d she let down her guard with Xander? Hell, she wished she knew. Maybe if she’d gone home that night, she would’ve spent some quality time with her vibrator and then gone to bed alone. Maybe if that’d been her course of action, she wouldn’t be threatening her career for a man who may or may not be guilty.

She glanced over at him. He seemed pretty chill for a guy who was on the run but that was Xander’s gift. He never crumbled under pressure—a quality she admired—but would it kill him to show just a smidge of human emotion. His life was on the line, for crying out loud.

Not even a thank-you for risking her ass for his. Typical Xander, but she couldn’t complain too much. He hadn’t asked for her help or for her involvement. She bought tickets to this shit show all on her own.

Scarlett blew out a short breath, shaking her head as she replaced the magazine in the mesh compartment on the backside of the seat in front of her.

The thing about alcohol, it did more than drop panties... It dropped walls.

Walls that were there for a reason.

Scarlett shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with her memories.

How much had she told him about her past? The night was an erotic blur for the most part but she remembered lying in his arms afterward, a feeling of safety overriding her usual need for distance.

It had left her with a vague sense of disquiet, wondering if she was missing out on something potentially great. But by morning, all that had remained was the intense need to forget any of it had happened.

Shaking off the memory, Scarlett returned to her present situation.

She didn’t have access to the internet or her notes on the Tulsa case. Maybe she ought to follow Xander’s lead and take a short snooze.

Right after she downed some whiskey and a few aspirin for her pounding headache. She rubbed at her temples, casting a dark look at her snoozing travel companion. How was it even possible that Xander slept like the dead as if nothing were troubling him?

She’d need a horse tranquilizer to achieve that level of relaxation.

Signaling the flight attendant, she ordered her whiskey, tossed a few aspirin to the back of her throat and settled in for a quick catnap.

When she opened her eyes again, Xander was already bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, preparing for the landing. Damn, had she really slept hours in a blink? Scarlett wiped at her eyes and tried to get her bearings.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Xander teased. “I thought you were going to sleep through the landing.”

“It must be the head injury,” she groused, sending him a dark look. “How close are we to landing?”

“About ten minutes.”

Scarlett checked her watch to confirm. “A few minutes off schedule but not bad.”

“We hit some turbulence and wind resistance.”

She nodded, secretly glad she’d slept through that. As many times as she’s flown and jumped from an airplane on missions, she wasn’t a fan of flying and always white-knuckled the bumpy spots.

Whenever Scarlett felt out of her element, she clung to training. “When we land, we’ll rent a car and get a hotel off the main path. Somewhere without a lot of traffic.”

Xander leveled his gaze her way. “Look, I appreciate you willing to come and see this thing through with me but you’re off the clock.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re not my TL right now. This is my detail and I call the shots. If you can’t do that, you might as well take the next flight back to McClean.”

“So you’re saying you’re in charge,” Scarlett summed up, amused and a little wary. “You’re the boss.”

“Exactly.”

Scarlett wasn’t on company time, so technically Xander was right. Although on the flip side, she was doing him a favor by not clapping him in iron bracelets, so a little respect wasn’t out of order.

She supposed it was better to work side by side than against one another, especially if they had the same goal, so she conceded with a nod. However, she didn’t hesitate to add, “If it turns out you’re guilty, I’m going to take you down.”

“I would expect nothing less, but I’m not guilty so I’m not worried.”

“I guess that’s what we’ll find out.”

Xander shrugged. “Yep.”

As the plane began its descent, Scarlett wondered if she was putting her faith in a really good conman or a man who had demons but was ultimately innocent.

The clock was ticking.

Please be innocent. I don’t want to have to arrest or kill you.




Chapter 5 (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)


He hadn’t planned on a travel buddy, but he was happy to have Scarlett with him while he figured this cluster out. Scarlett was a worthy adversary. The last thing he needed was her chasing after him while he tried to save his own ass.

“So how long do I have before the FBI starts sending in the goons?” he asked as they climbed into the rental car.

“A week.”

“How’d you manage to get a week?” he asked, impressed.

“I pulled some favors.”

“For little ol’ me? I’m touched.”

Scarlett cut him a wry look. “Don’t be. This is about Red Wolf, too. This situation makes all of us look bad. Especially me. People are already questioning my skills because of this situation. How’d I not know that one of my own was a psychopath? All anyone had to do was pull your psych eval and it was all over. Your file reads like a tragedy waiting to happen.”

Xander remembered his last evaluation. He hadn’t exactly been cooperative but then the doctor hadn’t exactly been warm and friendly. “That doc was an uptight prick. I wouldn’t trust anything in that report as fact.”

Scarlett shrugged with mild disagreement as she ticked off a few of the bullet points. “I don’t know... Unsociable, problem with authority, adrenaline junkie... Sounds about right.”

“Some might say those are my good qualities.”

“Only an idiot would say that.”

Xander scowled. “Yeah? Well, nowhere on that report does it say I’m a danger to society. There’s no law against being an asshole.”

“True enough. So let’s just get to brass tacks... Why would someone want to frame you for McQuarry’s death?”

Xander wished he knew. Unfortunately, the list of people who might hate him was probably longer than the list of people who would throw some water on him if he were on fire. A sergeant had once told him, You got a way of pissing people off, and he hadn’t been wrong.

“I don’t know,” he answered, navigating downtown Tulsa traffic. “But I aim to find out and when I find the bastard, I’m going to show him the error of his ways.”

“What makes you think it was a man?” Scarlett retorted and Xander had to admit, it could be a woman screwing him over. “Got any disgruntled lovers?”

“Do I know of any woman pissed off enough to kill innocent people just so I would take the fall? No. Contrary to what you may think... I’m not an asshole to everyone I come into contact with.”

Scarlett chuckled. “Okay, well, someone wants you to take the fall and we better find out who and fast. So what’s the plan?”

“First, I need to find out who hated McQuarry enough to want him dead. That’ll give me a direction to head in. I figure the best way to find out the skinny on a politician is to ask the press.”

“You can’t talk to the press,” Scarlett protested, flabbergasted at his idea. “Word has probably already spread that you’re on the run and you’d make a juicy story. No, forget it. No press.”

“Look, everything you just said is probably true but journalists have a way of sniffing out the dirt faster than anyone can. I don’t have the luxury of asking around myself. I need a shortcut to information—which means asking a reporter who was familiar with McQuarry and his work.”

Xander knew he’d made his point when Scarlett buttoned her lip, even though she still wasn’t happy. “Fine,” she bit out, her scowl darkening. “But we’re not just going to walk into the Tulsa World office, bold as you please, and start asking questions. We should meet somewhere private and you should wear a disguise.”

He barked a short laugh. “A disguise? Like a hat or something? Or maybe a Rastafarian wig?”

“I’m being serious, Xander. My ass is on the line, too. You shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Xander knew she was probably right but he didn’t want to wear a disguise. “I’ll swap my ball cap for a cowboy hat,” he said. “Does that work for you?”

“How have you lived this long?” Scarlett grumbled in irritation. “You’re just bound and determined to do things all your way, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, darlin’, that’s just how I roll.”

“Oh, shut up and don’t call me darlin’. I might not be your TL right now but I’m not your sugar-tits, either.”

His brow climbed and there was no mistaking where both their minds went.

That night.

Did she have to bring up her breasts? Like it wasn’t hard enough already to forget how it felt to have those dusky rose nipples pearled in his mouth. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell her that. She was likely to turn him from a rooster to a hen just for bringing up the subject they’d both agreed to forget ever happened.

But funny thing about that... He couldn’t seem to honor his end of the deal.

That night with Scarlett was all he thought about in private moments.

Judging by the warning in her expression, Scarlett wasn’t interested in a repeat of that night. More’s the pity. He could use the tension relief of a good orgasm, and so could Scarlett if that pucker between her brows was any indication of her stress level.

“Since I can’t stop you from being completely reckless, why don’t we just book a hotel at the Ritz and see if we can get our mugs on the evening news for fun?”

“Now you’re just being sarcastic, which I can appreciate, but I’ve already got lodgings figured out. You’ll be happy to hear that I already had a motel picked out that’s off the beaten path, as you suggested.”

Scarlett nodded with silent relief. He wasn’t a complete idiot nor was he trying to take unnecessary risks, as she put it, but he knew in his gut that talking to a journalist was the right way to get fast answers.

If nothing else, it would give them a direction to go in.

He knew Scarlett was probably grinding her teeth at taking marching orders from him but that was too bad.

This was his rodeo, not hers, and they were going to do things his way.

There was something hot about the way Xander took control but being the TL was too ingrained in her blood to take a back seat without chafing.

She still thought he was being stupid talking to the press but that could pan out with a lead so she stopped raising a ruckus about it. He was right in that they needed leads—fast—and sometimes big gains required bigger risks.

True to his word, they drove to a motel in an older part of the city, not quite as maintained and definitely not on anybody’s radar.

In short, it was a roach motel.

“This meet with your satisfaction?” Xander asked, smiling as he shouldered his duffel bag. “I don’t even think they have Wi-Fi in the room.”

Scarlett chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t gloat. It’s not attractive.”

“Is that where I’ve been going wrong all these years?”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure.”

“Dating tips from my TL. I’m sure there’s a cautionary tale in there somewhere.”

They checked in under assumed names, Xander paid cash and they found their room. Xander did a perimeter check, they mapped exits and set up an escape plan in case they were spotted by anyone feeling adventurous enough to turn Xander in.

The room wasn’t winning any awards anytime soon.

One big bed covered in a 1970s-era-paisley-printed comforter dominated the small room and a small round table with two rickety chairs was pushed against the grimy window. Cobwebs dressed the corners—housekeeping could use a pointer or two—and the floor was stained with various spots of dubious nature.

Oh, yeah, this was a shithole.

Perfect.

“This is the place where dreams go to die,” Scarlett said, the corner of her mouth lifting. “How’d you find it?”

“I just Googled one-star hotels in Tulsa. This gem popped up. I have to be honest, it was between the Nesting Hen Motel and The Flycatcher Inn. Naturally, I went with The Flycatcher Inn because the flycatcher is the Oklahoma state bird. Seemed appropriate.”

She didn’t want to laugh. Nothing about their situation was remotely funny but her insides tickled at the absurdity of Xander’s thought process. Scarlett sobered as her gaze focused on the one bed. “I know you weren’t planning on a traveling companion so I’m not going to bust your balls about the single bed, but let’s be straight with each other right now... I’m not sleeping with you.”

“You’re going to be very tired.”

“Ha ha. You know what I mean.”

Xander seemed to force a rueful chuckle, saying, “Yeah, I guess I do. Okay, no sex. I get it. Keep things professional. Probably better that way.”

“Of course it is.”

“Just for argument’s sake, what if we could both use a little stress-reliever? I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to use me for my body.”

Xander’s earnest expression was totally fake and yet, Scarlett flushed with heat as memories of how good they were together crowded her head. Recovering with a scowl, she reiterated, “No, we need to keep things straight. You and I both agreed sex the first time was a mistake. Now is not the time to start repeating bad decisions.”

Xander sighed and flopped onto the bed, the old springs protesting loudly. “That’s one way to look at it,” he said, folding his arms behind his head. “Or you could look at it this way. It makes sense to deny our chemistry when you’re my boss but technically, right now, we’re equals so what’s the point in denying what we both want? You’re a logical woman. Chew that over for a minute or two and you’ll come to the same conclusion.”

Scarlett didn’t care how he packaged his offer—she wasn’t budging. “Stow it, Scott. This isn’t a damn vacation and you’d best remember that simple fact. You’re walking a fine line and if you don’t start taking this seriously, I’m out. I’m not going to jeopardize my career for a numbskull who doesn’t have the brains God gave a goose to recognize that it’s time to stop messing around.”

That poked a nerve. Xander lost the laughter in his eyes and sat up, his gaze hard. “I don’t need you to tell me that I’m in a screwed situation. I’m the one with his ass in a vise. I didn’t ask you to come along. You did that all on your own so don’t lecture me on consequences. I’m well aware of what’s at stake.”

“Then start acting like it.”

“Jesus, Rhodes, just for once could you pull that damn stick out of your ass? I get it, things are ugly and I’m staring down a good chance of being thrown in prison for a crime I didn’t commit—I get it—I sure as hell don’t need you shoving that fact down my throat just for shits and giggles.” Xander grabbed his coat and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Scarlett let him go. It was her job to hold the line, to be the cool head in a situation, even if that meant sacrificing her feelings and needs.

This was no different.

Yeah, sure, in a perfect world where there weren’t any consequences for sex with a subordinate she’d be riding that bad boy all day, but they didn’t live in a perfect world and the consequences were too severe to mess with for a few moments of pleasure.

Moments. Ha! Of course, she meant figuratively. Xander was no one-pump chump or minutes-only man.

A shiver tickled her skin. She rubbed at the goosebumps rioting along her forearm. Enough of that. Grabbing her burner phone, she texted Xander.

Bring food when you come back.

No sense in starving. They needed fuel to power their brains and bodies.

Maybe if she satisfied her physical hunger with a loaded cheeseburger, she’d mute the dull roar of desire that was a serious distraction for them both.

Maybe.




Chapter 6 (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)


“The arrest warrant was issued two weeks ago. Why aren’t we going after this guy?”

FBI Special Agent Conrad Griggs knew this had been coming but he’d hoped for a little more time. He owed Scarlett but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep the heat off Scarlett’s team while they handled things on their end.

“Red Wolf asked if they could handle the situation internally. Out of professional courtesy, we agreed to let them have time to bring in Xander Scott on their own.”

Senior Director Paul Platt wasn’t known for his leniency or his compassion so his irritation wasn’t unexpected, but Conrad was surprised that Platt was even aware of this case.

“Terrorists don’t get professional courtesy. The man is guilty of killing a US senator and a handful of civilians. He gets no quarter from this agency or any other agency employed by the US government. Am I clear?”

Conrad shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “As far as I know, Xander isn’t guilty until a court of law determines him to be.”

“Don’t play word games with me, Agent. This situation looks bad for everyone. There’s a lot of heat coming down and people higher up than me want this man’s head on a plate. McQuarry was a respected and well-loved senator. Someone’s feet are going to be held to the fire and right now, those feet belong to Scott.”

Reading between the lines, Conrad knew that meant it didn’t matter if Xander was innocent. He fit the bill for the crime and people wanted this to go away, neat and tidy.

“And if he’s being framed?”

“Who the hell would want to frame some nobody for a crime like this?” Platt asked, his tone incredulous. “Have you read Scott’s file? He’s a ticking time bomb. Honestly, I’m surprised it took him this long to snap.”

Conrad didn’t know Xander well but he trusted Scarlett and Scarlett never would’ve allowed a loose cannon on her team.

“Maybe that’s the point,” Conrad suggested with a shrug. “He looks good for the crime...maybe too good. Things usually don’t fall together that easily.”

“Easy? Have you lost your ever-loving mind? This case has been a goddamn nightmare from day one. An embarrassment to the United States government and cleaning up the mess falls to us, so stop dicking around and bring that man in.” Platt adjusted his girth, straining the limits of the leather belt encircling his hips and said, “No more talk about Scott being framed. We don’t need that kind of contamination on the investigation. Bring him in so we can prosecute. End of story. You hear me?”

Conrad nodded, but everything about how Platt was acting felt off. But Platt was his boss so he couldn’t risk losing his job over Scott. Maybe Scarlett was wrong and her man was guilty.

Hell, he knew it sucked to find out that someone you trusted was a bad apple—been there, done that—but sometimes it happened and you just had to roll with it.

Still, Conrad couldn’t help but mention, “You know Xander Scott is a highly decorated veteran, and he served multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Did you read that in his file?”

Platt flushed and his gaze turned shrewd. “Yeah, it’s a shame. Sometimes even the best of us screw up or snap.”

The words rang hollow. Conrad knew better than to keep poking at this particular spot but he was feeling reckless. He nodded, seeming to accept Platt’s answer, adding, “True enough. Just a pity, though, you know? He served our country with honor. Seems wrong to chase him down like a rabid dog.”

“Guilty men don’t run.”

“I guess you’re right.” Or men who know they’re being framed don’t stick around to negotiate. “I’ll make the necessary calls to put a team together.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear.”

“However, I should remind you that Xander isn’t going to be easy to find. He’s good at disappearing, going off the grid. He doesn’t use a bank so he’s traveling with cash.”

“No one truly goes off grid in this day and age. He’ll leave behind bread crumbs and you’ll find them.”

Conrad would have to call Scarlett and let her know he was out of options.

“And keep me in the loop.”

That last part surprised Conrad. Platt rarely took this much interest in cases like this. Arrest warrants didn’t usually trip his meter. “Sir?” Conrad questioned with a frown. “How deep would you like to be in this case?”

“All the way,” Platt answered, moving to the door. “We all answer to someone, Griggs. That includes me.”

Platt let himself out of Conrad’s office, leaving behind a wealth of questions. Something felt off.

He picked up the phone and called Scarlett’s office but got voice mail. He tried her cell with similar results.

Conrad left a quick but vague message for Scarlett to call him back and then he grabbed his coat. He needed to satisfy the questions in his own head before he sent a team off to bring in Xander.

Listening to his gut had saved his life more times than he could count.

Right now, his gut was saying dig deeper.

So that’s what he was going to do.

Scarlett realized her phone was dead and plugged her charger in. She never let her phone get so low that it completely died but then Xander had thrown off her game.

She wasn’t in a habit of breaking rules but here she was, sharing a roach motel with a federal fugitive. Funny how things changed in a blink of an eye.

Grabbing the burner phone from her bag, she called Zak to check in.

Zak answered on the second ring. “It’s about time. I was starting to freak out. Did you find Xander?”

“Yeah, he caught a plane to Tulsa. I snagged the same flight. Tell CJ he owes you a beer.”

CJ had been sure that Xander wouldn’t fly, that he’d grab a rental or better yet, an old sedan from a used car lot. But Zak had agreed with Scarlett that Xander would take the most direct route, given the time crunch. The two had argued and then bet against one another.

Zak chuckled. “Damn straight he does. So are you with Xander now?”

“Yeah, I convinced him that it was better to work together, not against one another. He agreed. We’re holed up in a shitty motel in Tulsa. It’s a good defensible space but the accommodations are worse than that hotel in Basra.”

“That bad?” Zak asked, shuddering. “I must be getting old because that no longer sounds like an adventure to me.”

“Same.” Scarlett was going to miss her bed but she just had to keep reminding herself she’d slept in worse. “Xander wants to meet up with a local journalist to find dirt on McQuarry. He thinks that might be the best way to find out who’s framing him.”

“Not bad. Journalists always have the dirt. Even if they can’t print it, they know it.”

“It’s risky, though.”

“No argument there but this gig isn’t going to be a cakewalk no matter how you slice it. Risk is part of the detail.”

“You’re right. So here’s what I need you to do. I need you to make contact with Special Agent Conrad Griggs over in the Washington, DC, FBI office. He’s the one keeping the heat off Red Wolf while we figure this out. I need to know if there’s anything he can send to me about this case that might not be common knowledge. Seeing as this is the FBI’s case, they should have more intel than we do.”

“And you think he’s just going to hand it over, nice and sweet?”

“Conrad is a good guy. He and I go way back. He’ll help if he can.”

“All right, if you trust him...” Scarlett heard the question in Zak’s voice but he moved on. “How’s Xander holding up?”

“He’s fine.” Damn man acts like he’s on vacay, not fighting for his life. “Nothing gets under Xander’s skin for too long. Remember, don’t use my regular cell for anything related to Xander. Also, go ahead and give Conrad my burner number. I have my personal laptop so he can send any files he’s got to my Dropbox.”

“Be careful, TL. Assuming Xander is innocent—which I’m sure he is—the fact that someone is willing to go to such lengths to frame him means they won’t stop at killing to get what they want. Don’t step into the crossfire.”

“Head on a swivel,” Scarlett assured Zak. “In the meantime, keep me in the loop but watch your surroundings. You never know who could be watching and listening.”

“Paranoia is my favorite pastime,” Zak drawled, coaxing a smile from Scarlett. “Don’t let Xander do anything stupid.”

At that, Scarlett laughed. “That’s like asking the wind to stop blowing during a hurricane.”

“True, but if anyone can stop him, it’s you.”

Scarlett’s smile remained even as she clicked off. Xander showed up five minutes later, no longer scowling, holding two bags of fast food.

“Sorry for being a dick,” he said, tossing a bag her way. “You’re right. We need to keep things professional.”

“Glad you see things my way.” She opened the bag. A giant bacon cheeseburger. Her favorite. “Loaded?” she asked with a hopeful grin, to which Xander nodded. Scarlett lifted the burger out, inhaling the aroma of grease and fries with delight. She tried not to put too much store in the fact that he remembered how she liked her burger, but she wouldn’t deny the warm spot beneath her breastbone. Focusing her attention on her food, she said, “You’re forgiven,” and tucked into the heart-attack special.

Xander chuckled, unwrapping his own burger to say, “It’s probably a good thing we’re not smashing. There are enough onions on that burger to kill a moose. Your breath will be epic.”

“You’re one to talk about bad breath. You go days without brushing your teeth. You’ve probably got fungus in your mouth from when you were a kid.”

“Brushing isn’t so much important as flossing and I always floss,” Xander said, tossing back a French fry. “A dentist told me that.”

“Your dentist was a quack.”

“Possible. He only took cash and had a lot of stories about the Mexican mafia. I’m not sure he has a license to practice any longer, but he always gave me a good discount.”

“You’re lucky you still have teeth in your head,” Scarlett returned around a big bite. “If we get out of this situation alive, do yourself a favor and see a real dentist before your teeth fall out and you’re left with the need for dentures. Trust me, chicks don’t dig toothless guys.”

Xander waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know... Could be fun. Imagine what I could do...”

Scarlett threw a fry at him with a laugh. “You’re disgusting,” she said, leaning back in the chair, enjoying the simple pleasure of delicious, greasy food and the company of a fellow soldier.

Tomorrow would happen soon enough and anything could change within a few hours.

So yeah, she’d enjoy a burger and leave everything else at the door.

A beat of companionable silence followed as they finished their dinner. Scarlett changed into something more comfortable to sleep in—cotton shorts and a soft long-sleeved top—and climbed into the bed while Xander spent some time surfing the net, looking for information.

Xander would probably still be boyishly handsome when he was an old geezer—chasing the ladies in his wheelchair and winking as he gummed his applesauce in the old folks’ home—because that’s just who Xander was and always would be.

If Scarlett were to draw her complete opposite, Xander’s face would be the one she drew.

And if she were being honest...she liked that about him.

Xander yawned and finally closed his laptop to disappear into the bathroom. When he reappeared, he was only in his boxer briefs.

She wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it—she’d seen him in less—but her body flushed and she turned on her side away from him as he climbed into the bed.

Closing her eyes, she willed sleep to come but complete silence had always been her enemy. Too much quiet made for easy listening to the noise in her head.

Plus, she wasn’t accustomed to sharing a bed with anyone.

Irritated, she flopped onto her back, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Are you going to do that all night?” Xander asked.

“Sorry. I’m not used to having company in my bed,” she groused. “And you take up more than your share.”

“I promise I don’t have cooties.”

“I know that.”

He chuckled. “Then relax.”

“It’s not that...” She risked a glance toward him. “It’s because...there’s history between us.”

“One time does not history make,” Xander said. “Or so I’m told.”

She wasn’t going to argue the point. Exhaling, she deliberately closed her eyes and rolled to her side, plumping up her pillow and settling once again.

A long beat of silence followed until Xander said, “Do you really regret that much what happened between us?”

That was a loaded question—one she didn’t want to answer. She regretted being messed up in the head, which made it impossible to trust, which in turn made her a nightmare to be in a relationship with. Not that she wanted anything real with Xander.

Or anyone.

Her silence seemed an answer in itself. “I guess so,” Xander replied with a sigh. “That’s an ego-buster.”

Scarlett turned to glare at him. “Did you ever think maybe it has nothing to do with you?” she said, unable to just let him think whatever he liked. For some reason, it mattered with Xander. “Look, aside from the fact that I’m your boss...I’m just not the type to form unnecessary attachments. Trust me, it’s better that way. For everyone involved.”

Every time she’d ignored her instincts and allowed something to happen, it ended badly.

“I’m not cut out for relationships.”

“Me, either.”

His simple agreement coaxed a reluctant chuckle out of her. “Yeah? Two peas in a pod, I guess.”

“Or two broken people with too many sharp edges to be allowed around normal people.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she agreed, the tension lifting a little. She turned to face him, tucking her arm under her head. “Maybe that’s why we’re so good at what we do... We can compartmentalize like Olympic athletes without blinking an eye.”

“Mental boxes for everything,” Xander returned with a half-grin. They were joking but only sort of. That was the sad reality that they both recognized. “I know why I’m broken, but what’s your story, Rhodes?”

This was around the time she usually shut down. But that feeling of safety had returned and she found herself sharing, even when she didn’t want to. “Jacked-up childhood. When my dad wasn’t beating me...he was doing other things.” She gave a self-deprecating chuckle and added, “He wasn’t exactly in the running for Father of the Year.”

“He ever get caught?”

Scarlett shook her head. “Small town bullshit. No one wanted to get involved. There was no one to rescue me so I rescued myself.” A lump rose in her throat. She hated talking about her past. “Anyway, he’s dead but he was dead to me long before that. His going into the ground was just a formality.”

Xander nodded. She was relieved to see nothing but respect in his eyes at her admission. There was no pity, no “you poor thing” judgment in his expression, just plain respect for having the balls to do what no one else had been able to do for her.

And because of that, she admitted quietly, “I don’t regret what happened between us, Xander. There are just reasons—solid ones—to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Xander accepted her answer with another nod because he got it, even if he didn’t agree. She knew he was down for more but he would respect her decision because no matter what that psych eval implied—Xander was a damn good man.

“Goodnight, Scott,” she said, closing her eyes.

“’Night, Rhodes.”

At just like that, suddenly Mr. Sandman decided to stop being a prick—and she slept.

Scarlett was asleep beside him but sleep was a long ways from finding Xander. If Scarlett’s father weren’t already dead, he’d have liked to have been the one to permanently knock his lights out.

How could a father do that to his own daughter? He’d seen a lot of messed up shit in his time but he’d never get used to the knowledge that some people were just bad eggs.

His own father was a royal asshole but he’d never been buggered by him.

Beat him within an inch of his life, but the man hadn’t touched him like Scarlett’s father had touched her.

He wanted to pull Scarlett to him and hold her close, but he knew that would go over as well as giving a cat a bath so he kept his hands to himself.

But aside from Scarlett’s revelation, he had other things keeping him awake. More immediate issues than Scarlett’s messed-up childhood.

With Scarlett with him, his secret wasn’t likely to remain a secret for long. He didn’t want her to know how addicted he’d become to his pain meds. It was his private shame, his weakness, and he loathed the idea of Scarlett thinking less of him.

But there was another reason he needed to keep his pill-popping from her—it created motive.

He couldn’t account for the time when the bomb went off. He’d passed out and woken up after the fact, but he couldn’t exactly tell his TL that he’d been high as a kite during an operation so he lied.

He’d told Scarlett that he’d been on the opposite side of the plaza when the bomb had gone off.

Truthfully, he’d been damn close. It was a miracle he hadn’t been caught in the blast. It was pure luck that in the chaos no one seemed to notice the minor cuts and abrasions on his face.

But the lie weighed heavily on his conscience. He hated lying to Scarlett, but it’d been a split-second decision that he’d had to make and he couldn’t take it back.

Now his statement was on official documents. To admit that he’d lied about his whereabouts would only seal his guilt.

And Scarlett would never trust him again.

He exhaled and rolled to his side, quietly watching her as she slept. It was surreal to be in the same bed once more. He could honestly say that he figured the only way that was ever going to happen again would be in his dreams.

Xander knew he was being a friggin’ sap but he wished he could pull her into his arms and hold on for dear life. It’d been a long time since he’d wanted anyone in that role and he hadn’t expected it to be Scarlett but, damn, she was his equal in every way.

But he was going to respect Scarlett’s wishes and keep it professional. Of course, she was right. It made sense to keep things straight because neither knew how this was going to shake out in the end, but lying beside her and keeping his distance...was a special kind of hell.

Rolling away, turning on his side, he tried to focus on what he knew about the McQuarry bombing.

Thanks to his little blackout—he didn’t know much.

The operation had been simple: provide security for Senator Ken McQuarry as he did his little rally speech in downtown Tulsa. McQuarry had been a typical white male politician sort—trying to hide his soft and doughy gut in expensive suits, his mouth full of rhetoric—and he hadn’t been running any particularly controversial platforms so the job should’ve been a cakewalk.

They hadn’t expected someone to rig the amphitheater and blow up the senator.

Hindsight.

The bigger question was how did someone put Xander’s fingerprints on the plastic explosive when he sure as hell didn’t rig that bomb?

Scarlett groaned softly in her sleep. He didn’t dare try to comfort her. Force of habit, they were all light sleepers. He could only imagine the demons she entertained. Maybe his and hers could have a playdate.

A part of him wanted to know what made her twitch at night, what secrets were locked away in that complex brain, but he would never pry. That was the thing between fellow soldiers, they understood that sometimes talking about things didn’t make it better—it just created more shit to bubble to the surface and no one had time for that.

Still, he wanted to smooth the faint lines from her forehead and chase away her nightmares.

Too bad she’d never let him.

Tomorrow he had a meeting with the political journalist from the Tulsa World daily. They were supposed to meet at an abandoned schoolhouse. He figured the best way to mitigate the risk was to meet someplace with the least amount of prying eyeballs around.

In the quiet dark, it was hard to run from the fear that he might not find the evidence he needed to exonerate himself. The fear that he might actually end up behind bars for a crime he hadn’t committed didn’t help his insomnia.

He’d made a lot of mistakes in his life—done things he was ashamed of—but never had he ever considered harming a civilian.

More than just Ken McQuarry died that day.

He had their names etched on his brain.

Rosie Grogan.

Butch Halford.

Ronnie Pitt.

Layla Osmundsen.

He wasn’t the one who’d planted the bomb but he was complicit in their deaths because he hadn’t been doing his job. Remembering their names was his penance. Maybe if he’d been sober, he would’ve seen the bombs, could’ve gotten everyone to safety... Hell, he might’ve been able to defuse the bombs before they’d gone off.

Again with the hindsight.

He needed help kicking his habit, but there wasn’t time for that now. To think that a doc had prescribed the drugs for his back pain all legal-like and now he was a friggin’ junkie was a dark irony that didn’t escape him.

Most days he functioned fine. But there were other days when he was falling down stupid, out of his head, lost in the black hole of addiction.

Get your head on straight. There was no time for his issues. Not right now.

He forced his eyes closed. Morning would come soon enough and if he didn’t catch some shut-eye, he’d need toothpicks to hold up his lids.

His last thought as he drifted to sleep was the hope that for the first time in his life, luck was on his side.




Chapter 7 (#uacb5bfd1-8f56-5df2-bcbf-8a8117fb8080)


“A three-hour drive?” Scarlett exclaimed when Xander revealed their travel plans for the day. “Why?”

“Because the reporter wasn’t willing to risk being seen with me and the location is abandoned so it’s unlikely anyone will see us coming or going.”

“Sounds like a trap,” she grumbled, tucking her gun into her hip holster and pulling her hair up into a tight ponytail. “And you trust this reporter?”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Xander answered, holstering his own weapon. “But I need answers and this woman seems to be willing to give them to me, so I’m going where she tells me to.”

“But why is this reporter willing to give you information?”

“Because I’m paying her a lot of money.”

Scarlett was impressed. “Seriously? I thought that only happened in the movies.”

“Turns out greed is a very real motivator and reporters don’t make jack shit these days so...it’s almost a public service. I’m helping to keep journalism alive.”

“That’s a stretch,” she quipped with a dry smile. “But it works out in your favor that you managed to find a reporter whose integrity was for sale.”

“You’d be surprised how easy those are to find.” Xander winked.

Xander’s reason made a certain level of sense, but a three-hour drive to some abandoned place seemed like a bad idea. They were between a rock and a hard place given it would’ve been personally safer to meet in a public place, but the very thing that made it safe also made it risky.

Scarlett smothered the urge to growl with frustration. She hated feeling vulnerable and went out of her way to ensure that she had the best handle on any given situation, but that wasn’t going to happen with this circumstance. Better get used to it.

“Fine. I need coffee,” Scarlett grumbled, sliding into her jacket, thumbing her nose at the sludge offered in the room. “Whatever that is...is not coffee and I’m going to need the real deal if we’re going on a road trip to BFE.”

Xander crooked a grin that sent tiny sparks straight to her empty belly. “Think of it this way. You get to see parts of Oklahoma you’ve never seen before.”

“Pardon me while I rein in my excitement.”

He laughed. The sound coaxed a grudging smile on her part. That was the thing about Xander; he had this way about him that made people forget why they were pissed at him.

It was that skill that had probably kept him alive all this time.

They climbed into the car, stopped by a roadside stop-and-rob and then hit the road. Three hours in a car with Xander sounded like psychological torture but she’d endured worse.

But when he cranked the country music, she had to reevaluate that assumption.

After twenty minutes of country crooning, she’d had enough and purposefully clicked off the radio. “Look, we should use this time to go over the case,” she said, ready to do something productive.

“I have a better idea, let’s just enjoy the ride,” Xander said.

Scarlett exhaled with mild annoyance. “This isn’t a Sunday outing. I don’t know why I hear the ticking clock more loudly than you, but it’s all I can hear. We need to go over the case until we know it by heart.”

“What makes you think I don’t already?” he said quietly.

Scarlett fell silent, digesting his retort. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve probably gone over the facts in this case until you’re cross-eyed but I can’t just sit in the car, listening to tunes like we’re out for a picnic more than your ass is on the line.”

“I didn’t ask you to come with me,” he reminded Scarlett. He wasn’t being a dick about it, just stating facts. “Maybe I need a break to just coast for a minute.”

She opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been going through since the moment he found out someone was gunning for him.

Being former military, it wasn’t hard to slip into that mode where no one outside of your unit was beyond suspicion, but that level of paranoia took a toll on the psyche.

Keeping your head on a swivel at all times did something to you as a human being, which was why most of Red Wolf was comprised of people who found civilian life difficult.

Drawing a deep breath, Scarlett rubbed her palms down her jeans and said, “Okay, we’ll do this your way, for now, on one condition—” she cut Xander a sharp look “—no more country music. It’s classic rock or silence.”

He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.”

Xander punched in a rock station and grinned as Scarlett relaxed and nodded in approval as classic rock filled the car.

An hour went by and Scarlett turned the music down.

Xander sent a playful glance her way. “Ready to give country another shot?”

“Hell, no.”

“Okay, well, silence will drive me batty.”

Scarlett suddenly realized it bothered her that she knew what Xander sounded like when he climaxed but she didn’t know much more about him aside from what she’d read in his personnel file.

And he knew more about her than she ever shared with anyone and it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t like she went out of her way to know her team on a personal level, which is why sleeping with one of her team members had been a bad idea, but what was done was done.

And she was a little old-fashioned about some things.

“I need to know more about you, Xander.”

“More? Like what? You’ve read my file. Not much more to tell.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know that’s not an accurate portrait of a person. If I were to go off your psych eval, I would say you’re a narcissistic asshole but I know that’s not true.”

“I’m telling you, that doc had it in for me,” Xander said. “Crack one off-color joke and it’s ‘no soup for you.’”

Scarlett smothered a laugh at his Seinfeld joke. “Okay, so tell me about yourself.”

“Would you like to know what’s on my dating profile?” he teased.

Scarlett blushed and shook her head. “God, no,” she answered quickly, but then a part of her wanted to ask how in the hell he managed to date in their particular line of work. Each time she attempted a dating profile, she ended up sounding like the most generic person in the world because she couldn’t afford to put real details out there on the web. “I mean, tell me how you ended up going the military route.”

Xander frowned, clearly not his favorite bedtime story. She half expected him to decline and change the subject or worse, return the radio to country but he surprised her with an answer.

“Kinda like your story. Dad was an abusive dick. Didn’t have the means to go to college, not that I would’ve been able to handle more school, but the army was my ticket out of hell. I took it without looking back.”

“Is your dad still alive?”

“No. He died when I was overseas. Felt weird to get the message. I mean, I’d prayed for the man’s death more times than I could count when I was growing up but when it actually happened, I was numb. Kinda disappointing, really. That was the biggest reveal. I thought I’d feel more. Relief, maybe? Or joy, even? But nope, I felt nothing. My LT gave me the message and ten minutes later I was back on the job.”

Scarlett understood the numbness Xander had felt. She’d felt the same when her own father had died.

She’d long come to the conclusion that people who were damaged had two choices: wither and die, or deal with it.

Her way of dealing with the abuse at her father’s hands was to walk away and never mention the man’s name ever again.

“Funny how the mind works,” she murmured. “I didn’t feel anything either when my old man kicked it.”

Xander nodded, understanding. “I think I felt nothing because he’d become nothing to me. He was no longer my father. The military became my family. My brothers and sisters in arms... They were the ones who had my back. Unlike that asshole who’d done nothing but beat me black-and-blue until the day I was too big and he realized I’d tear him up if he laid another hand on me.”

Scarlett would like to say that their stories were the exception but there were plenty of military people with similar backstories. If military life wasn’t ingrained in a person from childhood, signing a blank check to the government took some balls or some other driving force, and sometimes that driving force was desperation.




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