Bad Cat Baby Blues (Shifter Squad Six 3) Page 4

  “I’ll give you two milligrams of this, okay? Because I bet you won’t sleep otherwise. Is that cool with you?”

  She threw a glance behind her as well. The stony-faced leader and his morose friend were both leaning on the wall, arms crossed, expressions unreadable.

  “That’s fine. Lieutenant, check that she’s giving me two-point-five.”

  Ari drew the instructed amount into the syringe and held it up for lieutenant to check.

  Lieutenant… definitely a shifter squad, she thought.

  Few shifters ever went through officer training, preferring to fight instead of sitting at a table to cram theory their animal sides could perform without thinking. That meant that they often got commanded by twerps far beneath them, though—a sad fact Ari had learned while in the service herself.

  “It’s the right amount, Grant,” he said, nodding and stepping back.

  Ari swabbed a spot on Grant’s arm and stuck the needle in, administering the drug quickly. Grant took a breath and pushed his head back, looking at the ceiling.

  “I owe you a beer, Miss,” he said finally, sounding groggy.

  “You owe me at least three,” she snorted.

  To her surprise, the guy behind her chuckled. Looking back, it was the one that made her stomach jump in loops and her brain scramble. Fucking hell, he looked even cuter when he was grinning. This was so unfair. Dealing with a failed mission, facing her own mortality, patching up a soldier she didn’t know, and all while being held against her will was bad enough, but now she had to deal with getting wet because a hot man sounded sexy as fuck when he laughed?

  Oh hell, that was too much.

  “Miss, I think it’s time you and we have a talk now,” Connor said, standing up straight as soon as Grant was out like a light.

  Ari took a deep breath, calming her thudding heart.

  Get your head back in the game, she told herself, desperate to convince her feeble body to stop being such a girl and think like the professional she was. It almost worked.

  But when she stood up and walked out of the room in the direction she was pointed toward, her beautiful torturer right behind her, her knees were still a little bit weak. And that was unfair as hell.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dutch

  Dutch wanted to bite his knuckles. His hands kept wanting to move on their own volition and it was getting ridiculous controlling them.

  She was so close, and she smelled so good. It wasn’t only the man who was turned on, but the jaguar was practically howling with lust, making him twitch a little every time he got too close to her. And he didn’t even know her name.

  Dutch watched her step into one of the secondary rooms, the one he slept in, her gorgeous curls bouncing on her shoulders. She needed a shower, she must have been exhausted, and no one had taken care of her wound yet, but she was absolutely devastating throughout it.

  Connor showed her to a chair and Dutch stopped at the door, closing it but leaning against the doorframe like an ominous ghost. Connor probably didn’t need him there and didn’t object on the basis of adding some intimidation to the scene, but Dutch wouldn’t have left if he’d been told to. Not that he was looking to disobey the lieutenant, but he couldn’t make his body move any farther from her than he had to.

  She sat down heavily and exhaustion was evident in her body language. Dutch wanted to pick her up and lay her down on the bed, curl up around her, and keep her safe until she was rested and everything was okay. The thought made him visibly cringe.

  What’s wrong with you, man? Snap out of it.

  Easier said than done.

  “You want to tell me why you chose to help Grant? You didn’t have any reason to,” Connor started.

  The woman shrugged, putting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward a bit, a sly look in her eyes that could have almost doubled for amusement if she hadn’t looked so damn worn and ragged.

  “I figured I could play both sides a little. You know, keep my life interesting,” she noted with a smirk, one that Dutch wanted badly to kiss off her lips.

  “Hey, we can make this easy or we can make this hard. You can tell me who you are or I can bundle you up, throw you back in the jungle for your friends to find you and see what they make of you,” Connor said, flashing his teeth in a predatory snarl that Dutch knew all too well.

  His threats were rarely empty. They’d done it before with hostages that they didn’t really need, and let their own people sort out what to do with them. Usually though, it meant freedom for the party at hand. This time, Dutch was sure that the first person from the camp to get their hands on her would make sure she never had another chance to help anyone ever again.

  His hands rolled into tight fists at the mere thought of it.

  “You could do that. But I bet you won’t,” she said idly, her expressive eyes sparkling with something other than exhaustion.

  It was like she was almost playing with them, taunting them. It made her even sexier than before and Dutch was cursing the moment he’d ever laid eyes on her. He’d made a point of keeping his life rational, on track, and without distraction. This beautiful, impossible creature had the capability to ruin all of that. And Dutch hated it when something fucked with his system.

  “How come?” Connor asked, cocking a brow and mirroring her faint amusement.

  “Well, you guys don’t look like assholes. I mean, for a bunch who mowed down a camp full of thugs, that is, but my point remains.”

  “You can’t build your expectations based on first impressions,” Connor warned with a chuckle.

  “True,” she agreed, shrugging her shoulders a little. “But aren’t SEALs supposed to have a code of conduct of some sort? You know, serve with honor and integrity and what not.”

  Dutch felt himself tense. She’d seen Grant’s tattoo, and almost every member of the squad had it tattooed on them at some point during their service. He flicked his gaze at Connor and the lieutenant remained unflappable, as he always was during missions. The way that man could keep a cool head was impressive to say the least.

  “What we were in our past has little to do with what we are now,” he noted coolly.

  “I doubt that, though,” she said, the smirk hovering on her lips.

  Without another word, she peeled up the side of her ratty, ragged shirt. Dutch’s muscles flexed halfway because he was instinctively worried that she was going for a weapon—impossible, because they’d checked her before tying her up—and halfway because the exposed flesh on her stomach and side longed to be kissed and touched by him. He had to put serious effort into not getting turned on by the fact that he could see a tiny bit of skin that he hadn’t seen before.

  You are so fucked.

  She looked at both Connor and then at Dutch and it might have been his imagination, but he was pretty sure her gaze lingered on him longer than it needed to. Her fingers peeled at an invisible edge on her side, right on her ribs, and Dutch strangled a gasp of surprise as the flesh tore back, coming off smoothly with a hint of a ripping noise scratching at his ears.

  It was a cover-up bandage, wide but perfectly matched to her skin tone and with edges so fine that it would have been impossible to tell it was there if she hadn’t taken it off. Underneath it, a crisp, sharp ink figure was revealed. The United States Marine Corps logo in simple black, close to her heart.

  Dutch wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he definitely didn’t anticipate Connor bursting into laughter, his body visibly relaxing.

  “So you know, huh?” he asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with laughter.

  “I could guess,” she admitted, further confusing Dutch.

  “Know what?” Dutch asked, feeling his heart beat far too fast and hard.

  He could recognize that logo anywhere, but why the hell was it on a woman they’d found in a foreign drug operation, packing away cocaine? It made no damn sense.

  “You want to tell her or shall I, Miss Ariadne Gutierrez?” Connor asked, giving the woman a look and then raising his hand to settle Dutch and show him everything was okay.

  “You two seem to have such great rapport, I’m sure you can explain it better. But just so we’re clear here, you’re with The Firm, right? Did you know I was going to be there?” she asked, letting out a long breath and patting the shirt back over her exposed skin.

  “No, we didn’t. I don’t think that’ll surprise you much, right?” Connor asked, getting a confirmatory nod and an eye roll from Ariadne. “I called it in after we extracted you and Grant from the scene. When I said we had you alive, our handlers were more than happy to tell us that you were one of us and that we should send you home. But we weren’t alerted beforehand, so you know what that means.”

  His brows were furrowed and he felt irritation boiling in him. Ariadne dropped her eyes for a moment, nodding solemnly, and the air in the room seemed suffocating, thick. The Firm had been willing to let Squad Six kill one of their own without remorse, without warning, or having them try and get her out of there alive. She would have been collateral damage and it was dumb luck that she was alive.

  “Wait, what? You’re with The Firm?” Dutch piped in, standing up straight.

  Bile rose in Dutch’s stomach. This was exactly like The Firm to pull bullshit like that. If he had to guess, he was willing to place a stiff bet on the fact that Spade had to have something to do with the whole mess.

  “I am,” Ariadne nodded, rolling back her shoulders now and slouching a bit in the chair, like she could finally take a breath that wasn’t calculated.

  “Guess we all got lucky today, Ariadne,” Connor said.

  “Call me Ari.”

  “Fine, Ari. Thank you for making sure one of my boys didn’t get his brain blasted on the side of a Jeep. And for patching him up. I’m sure Grant will bitch and moan about your handiwork later, but don’t mind him. He’s a big pussycat, really,” Connor said, reaching out a hand to Ari.

  She took it and they shook hands, her grip firm and sure. Dutch could see that from the way the tendons in her forearm flexed, and now, suddenly, he could look at her in a whole new light. The sureness of step and the way her body seemed to float when thrown into a mess that would have made any normal person falter, panic, and stumble was the result of years of training, muscle memory, and confidence colliding into the perfect combination.

  She was a warrior, like they were. And he’d almost killed her.

  “Don’t mention it,” she said, and there was a genuine smile on her lips now.

  It was disarming.

  “Dutch will get you settled in,” Connor said as they released hands, with Ari looking at Dutch now for more than a simple stolen moment. “Give her a chance to clean up and check out that laceration on her head. I bet you need a good night’s sleep with some shitty air conditioning and stale rations, right Ari?”

  “Sounds about right,” she confirmed with a chuckle, her mesmerizing eyes still locked on Dutch.

  “I need to get a report from you as soon as you feel up to it. Apparently there’s a two-month gap between your last transmissions and the desk monkeys don’t like that. Dutch can take it, right? I’ll go check with the rest of the team and let command know you’re in one piece and of sound mind.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she noted. “If I were of sound mind, I wouldn’t be in the middle of this fucking jungle.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s a brand of insanity we all subscribe to,” Dutch muttered, drawing a grin out of her that damn near lit the room up.

  “It’s settled then,” Connor said, pushing open the door and stepping out with a nod to both of them.

  Being alone with her was difficult, to say the least. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring before Ari grinned a little, cocking her head to the side.

  “What, soldier? Like what you see?” she asked, batting her lashes in a way that was obviously full of at least a little bit of mockery.

  “Impressed to see a dead woman walking, that’s all,” Dutch gruffed, slicking a hand through his hair in an effort to do anything other than sink into her.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked, the fake coyness wiped from her face immediately.

  Dutch couldn’t help but grin a little at that. She was feisty as hell and he bet her reflexes were topnotch. Serious little actress, too. Her body language could go from inviting to threatening at the drop of a hat, and for once he felt well-matched. He couldn’t banter with most women at all, fearing he would hurt their feelings and cause a big teary mess as soon as he said a word. Ari, though? He bet she could dish it back twice as hard as she took it.

  “I had you in my cross hairs,” he said, pursing his lips lazily.

  She stilled for a second. She must have known as well as he did what that meant, and he bet she’d seen the sniper rifle case being hauled out from the back of the vehicle. Dutch himself still couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken the shot, though every fiber in his body was trained to act when he had a clear chance in a situation like that.

  But standing a few feet from her now, hell… she could arrest him from hundreds of yards away, making his hand falter, but at this distance, she had disarmed him completely. All he had now was his wits and even that seemed to be running dry when faced with her.

  “Why didn’t you take the shot?” she asked, echoing the question rolling back and forth in Dutch’s head as well.

  “Guess I did like what I saw,” he said, grinning wryly.

  He was almost expecting her to lunge at him for that and get in a good punch or two, but she didn’t. Instead, she licked over her lips, her gaze flicking down to the toes of her boots and for a second, Dutch thought he spied a slight blush on her cheeks. That was surprising. Apparently she wasn’t all sass, then. It looked just as cute on her as her tough attitude did.

  “Careful, soldier. You’re playing with fire here,” she said, looking back up and clearing the tiny note of surprise off of her expression.

  She couldn’t fool him, though. He’d seen it, and now the dynamic was changed. Dutch shrugged his shoulders, pushing the door open in front of him and motioning for her to go through.

  “I’m not afraid of getting burned,” he said.

  He wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ariadne

  It was as if a load of bricks had been lifted off of Ariadne’s shoulders the moment Connor confirmed her suspicions.

  Showing them her tattoo had been a gamble, but she figured that they’d find it eventually. And her assumption that the six fine gentlemen she found herself enjoying the company of weren’t crazed lunatics held firm as well. If they were, she doubted she would have ever made it out of her zip ties.

  It wasn’t that she had some sort of conviction that all Marines or SEALs were inherently good people. They weren’t. She’d known plenty of absolutely horrific soldiers who were psychopaths in camo, staying out of jail only because the government paid them to do horrible things instead of letting them do it as civilians.

  But she had a feeling about these guys, and it was a giant relief to know that her instincts hadn’t been completely fried by the fight and months upon months of being stuck in the goddamn jungle.

  Most of all, though, it was Dutch that got her to take a chance. There was something about that man that made her trust him implicitly. While Connor was the one everyone looked up to, the natural leader among a group of strong Alphas, Dutch was the one that she was drawn to. Perhaps it was his steely eyes or the unflappable nerves of a sniper—as she’d now learned—or the fact that her body screamed with lust every time she came within ten feet of him, but he’d been the one reason why she’d been so forward.

  Hoping that he was good was only enough for so long, she’d needed the confirmation.

  Now, she was stuck in the same room that Connor had taken her to before, but the situation was changed. Dutch wasn’t standing guard and she wasn’t pulsing with adrenaline on the edge of a chair, ready to duck and roll and try to fight for her freedom at any second. Their little shared moment in the cramped quarters was almost cozy.

  Dutch was balancing a laptop on his knees, sitting on the second bunk while Ari ran a ratty towel through her hair, trying to dry it. There was a small portable shower rigged up in the cubbyhole that they called a bathroom and chivalrous as Squad Six was, she’d been given first dibs on the water. She hadn’t needed to be told twice.

  Having washed the grime off of herself, Ari felt like she could think a little bit clearer. Like the fog was lifting and her usual sharpness was returning to her full-force.

  “So you’re saying that this Soyo guy is probably hiding something and you think there’s a secondary operation somewhere in the jungle,” Dutch said, stealing a look at her that Ari noticed.

  She smirked, pausing her hands in her hair for a second before tossing the towel to the side. While they were deep in the middle of writing her report for The Firm, with one other operative having to be present whenever possible, Ari felt like she was more engaged with Dutch in some sort of an awkward flirting game than anything else.

  He kept giving her those looks that could double as a damn mating call, and she kept her skin just a tad too glistening and her body language far too inviting for this to be simply business. She couldn’t help it. Rationally, she tried to tell herself that it was because she’d barely touched another body in months, but emotionally she knew she was full of crap.

  Ari wanted him. She could almost taste the way his skin would feel on her tongue. She’d been sitting in a constant puddle of her own desire from the moment she’d seen him in the car. It was ridiculous and so hot that it was beginning to mess with her mind.