After pouring cup number two, she found humanity agreeable again. Pacing over to the window, she pulled open the blinds and studied the compound. She’d memorized the layout on her first day at the property. By the end of the week, she’d mapped three exit strategies.
A black masked figure stood a dozen yards away with a set of binoculars in his hand. Raising her coffee cup for a drink, she gave the masked figure the finger before snapping the blinds closed again. Fucking Ghosts creeped her out. She never saw their faces, only their thuggish ski masks, yet they were always around.
Always.
They’d been in her place, too. At least twice, she’d woken to the sound of movement in the house—hence the gun. Chrome said they could trust the bastards, and she trusted her commanding officer, but that didn’t give the fuckers the right to be in her quarters.
A plate slid across the table toward her. “Eat.”
“Me Tarzan, you Marine. Eat.” She stuck her tongue at him, and his stern face gave way to the barest hint of a smile.
“You bitch. Me hungry. Shut up.”
Laughter wormed its way through her sour mood, and she tucked into the food. Meals could come few and far between in the field, so they didn’t waste precious seconds on chatter. After they’d finished, she took care of the dishes while Merc drank his coffee.
“Up for a run?” Ten miles might take the edge off, and Merc’s presence usually dissuaded her thuggy escorts from trying to follow her.
“Later.” He drummed his fingers on the table. Like her, he’d been kidnapped back into the fold. At least she’d managed to break the finger of one of the Ghosts who’d grabbed her—right before they pumped her full of an anesthetic and knocked her ass out. Ice blue eyes focused on her. “What’s wrong?”
She drained her second cup of coffee. “Not a damn thing.”
“Yeah, you can show that face—or whichever face you want—to everyone else, sweetheart. But I know you, I fuckingknowyou.” Quiet, raw words uttered in a tone which commanded attention.
Rolling her eyes, she let her shoulders relax and her expression soften. Leaning toward him, she blinked with precise slowness, once for every two beats of a man’s heart. “But, you complete me…” At his narrowed gaze, she coughed and straightened. “Okay, yeah, that doesn’t work. I think I just threw up in my mouth.”
“That’s what you get.” A smirk curved the side of his face still able to hold an expression.
Too early for bullshit and games. “Here’s the thing. You’re toxic. I’m wasted—or at least, I would be wasted if I went for that kind of thing. Together, we’re Toxic Waste. Kind of like peanut butter and jelly, only with a hell of a lot more kick.” They had been, ever since the first time he’d dragged her off a bully at their foster home. A kid had spit in her face. Since he’d been twice her size, she hadn’t slowed down. She’d actually broken her hand hitting the other boy, then kept pounding and flailing until he went down. John was four years older and about fifty pounds heavier than she’d been at the time. He’d dragged her off the kid and set her on her feet. When the other boy tried to hit her, John had bloodied the only part of his face she hadn’t bruised.
They’d been family ever since. John looked after her, she looked after him. They’d been lucky. In a system that fucked everyone, they’d somehow managed to stay in the same homes. At least until the day he left for MIT.
Bastard.
By her seventeenth birthday, she’d had enough and joined the Marines with her foster mother’s blessing. Two years in, and they’d been assigned to the same team. Funny how their lives worked out. That was then—“Too bad I can’t carry a tune. We could be our own band.”
“You don’t have to carry a tune. There’s karaoke in hell.”
Not snickering, she retrieved the coffee pot and refilled their cups. She’d done without it before. One was good enough, two an indulgence, but three cups in the morning? Yeah, she was living the fucking life. “Yeah, karaoke and fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them.” Life on a beach with absolutely nothing to do? “I think it’s time to go straight. I don’t want to go to that hell.”
Hell was for other people. She’d visited when an explosion consumed Brad and the rest of their team in a fireball. She had the fucking t-shirt burned onto her soul.
“There's a hell you want to go see? Do they give guided tours?” He shook his head. “Besides the ones we've already seen, of course.”
“Eh, we're a hard sell. Maybe we need to get laid, because this is pathetic.” She gave him a speculative look. “You're sexy. You got dark and brooding down. I'm not too bad, I know how to bring it. Why aren't we getting laid again?”
"Besides the fact I look like Frankenstein's monster?" He motioned to the scars on his face that she never seemed to see. "We're different from them, the sheep we're supposed to herd and protect. And they know it. Even you, Copper, as lovely as you are. We're off. We're wrong. Or maybe that's just me. Maybe they're all a bunch of pussies who're afraid if they get too close to you, they'll find me under their bed like the devils they feared as children." He laughed. "Make no mistake, I will be there."
John took a long drink of his coffee and laughed again, the sentiment wry, but the sound like crushed glass. "So, I guess it's my fault you're not getting laid. Sorry to clam jam, but there it is."
"Okay, now I'm depressed. The percentage of men willing to stand up to you and survive the experience is pitifully low." The corners of her mouth turned up. "Unless I find you a chick. Oh. I could find you a woman. You still like women right? I can totally go for finding you a guy, even test drive him if you like? Cause, seriously, I need to get laid. The fucking guy at the gas station is starting to look good."
He raised a brow. "Never thought about it. Maybe I wouldn't break another man, but I doubt it. And I can't get past the kissing. I could suck a dick though. Life'd be a helluva lot easier if I could just suck my own. Then I'd be too busy to cock block your action."
She laughed. "If you boys could suck your dicks, we wouldn't have any wars to fight."
"You got that right. In fact, I think half the world would come to a complete stop." He snickered. "See what I did there. Come." He nudged her.
Smirking, she shook her head. "Not a total stop. You'd come, then work on coming again. Because first step, suck your dick. Second step, multiple orgasms. When you master that, well, you’d own the world."