“Yes, and where are they, exactly?” Kezlin said in an earnest voice. “Not one of those fucking assholes bothered to come to your aid. Goddammit, Jordan, look at you. You’re bruised, bleeding, dehydrated, probably starving and still you want to rush back to that hellhole? No fucking way.”
“What she said,” Knox mumbled, morosely. She had been listening quietly but the concern for Jordan’s welfare was painted on her face.
“We either do this together, or we all go home. You choose.” Paxton crossed her arms over her chest and stared her down.
“Oh, hell’s fire! Fine then. Have it your way but don’t entertain, even for a second, the thought that I won’t be going back in with you. I am and will and that, folks, is final.” Jordan asserted as she settled against Brock’s chest. “I might as well catch up on some sleep then.”
“Eat this first.” Brock handed her a protein bar. He brushed a gentle finger over her nose. “I’m sorry.”
She frowned as she ripped open the bar and took a bite. “What for,” she mumbled around the decadent chocolate flavor that made her stomach rumble in appreciation.
“I should’ve realized you were hungry.”
Jordan stared at him. She knew he was a Dom. Hell, the entire Cobra team was but it was the first time she was the recipient of his care and protective nature that came natural to real dominants. It felt good and strengthened her decision that Brock Carter was going to be hers. Her husband and her Dom.
The sooner, the better!
Chapter Two
A private residence on the banks of Tigris River in Cizre, Sirnak Province, Turkey— one-hundred-and-five miles from Mosul…
“I’m going to take a bath,” Jordan muttered the moment they walked inside the cool, airy interior of the double story stone house. “Please, Paxton, not now,” she stopped her at the foot of the stairs. “I just need to relax for a bit.”
“Alright. Your luggage is in the last room on the left. Take your time. We’ll have a hot plate of food ready when you’re done.”
Paxton stared after her with a concerned frown and then walked into Jared's embrace. “I’m worried about her. It’s too similar to the last time she was captured. That was the reason why she decided to leave the military.”
“Not quite,” Brock said brusquely. “By the time they found her then, she was half-dead. At least we got to her in time.”
“How the hell do you know about that?” Knox glared at him with suspicion as she overheard the comment. They were more than The Red Reign PI team; they were very close and extremely protective of each other.
“I made it my business to find out.” The dark look warned Knox not to pry any further but she wasn’t the kind to be put off easily.
“Why?”
“Knox, let’s just—”
“No, Paxton, I want to know. What gives him the right to dig into her personal business? We all know how she hates opening up to strangers.” She stabbed a finger in his direction. “Andheis just that.”
“Far be it for me to point this out, but the kiss she gave him on the chopper speaks loudly of something else,” Cruz chimed in.
“No one asked your opinion, Cruz Parker.” Knox said pointedly “Well, Carter? I’m waiting.”
“Jordan and I have at least one thing in common, you petulant little snip. In any event, it's none of your goddamn business, so butt out.” With that, Brock walked out onto the patio, ignoring the slights chasing after him.
“So, you’ve got something for Jordan?”
Brock didn’t immediately respond to Jared’s question who had followed him outside. He generally wasn’t a man to share his feelings or thoughts. Jared knew that better than most, since they’d had each other’s back for as long as he could remember.
“It’s about time you opened your heart to a woman, my friend.”
Brock grunted as he lit up a cigarette. Wooly rings of smoke floated upward to fade and disappear into the ether. Smoking had become an artful distraction. It was what had kept him sane during the long tours in Afghanistan. With extraordinary muscle control of his lips and tongue, he would exhale billions of vibratingN2andH2gas particles into ephemeral, milky white clouds of amorphous sculpture. Nicotine had been his personal psychotropic elixir to cope with the all-nighters in a combat zone.
Every inhalation, accompanied by the sound of delicate trichomes incinerating and crackling, would deliver a hit that focused his mind and stimulated his senses. It was the dip that helped him dodge an incoming round in the pitch of night and release the familiar surge of cortisol that honed the fight or flight response. It was the intense high of combat, once felt that could never be forgotten. Now, once again staring into the abyss, Brock drifted back as he watched the smoke rhythmically dissipate, one ring upon another, to form a layer of undulating fog above their heads.
“I’ve gotta stop smoking.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Jared took a swig of beer as he glanced sideways at him. “You did two years ago. What made you start again?”