“Hollywood,” Ruckus said.

Hollywood stopped moving, and the other guys filed out of the room, several of them giving him supportive looks. It was time to face the music.

He turned toward his commanding officer and waited.

Ruckus folded his arms and glared at him. Still, Hollywood waited. This was his cue to give LT a minute to get his shit together and calm down.

“Before I chew your ass. What was your thought process?”

“I could handle it. I got this hookup from the hospital, but it was…off.”

“How?”

“Plenty of women approach me, but rarely shy women. She acted shy, but she didn’t blush.”

“She didn’t blush?”

“No, which means either she’s playing me or I’m reading it wrong.”

“Go on. This is quite intriguing.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal about something if it was just a hookup. On the other hand, I brought Dozer as a drinking buddy for afterwards and back up if things went south.”

“Which they did.”

“Yes, sir. Quite south,” he said, remembering how she’d tried to stab him and where.

“There’s more to this story, I presume.”

Hollywood chuckled. “Well…yeah.” When he met Ruckus’s gaze, he sobered at the scowl on his face. “I called in as soon as I disarmed her, and we got to the rebel base.”

Ruckus exhaled his breath hard like a charging bull. Unfolding his arms, he walked closer to Hollywood.

“I know you guys are capable, you’re Uncle Sam trained, field tested hard and rough. I know you’re smarter than hell because it takes those kinds of smarts to pass all the tests. I know you’re all adrenaline junkies, the danger is part of the draw. But, young man, I’m responsible for you, for all of you when it comes to any mission that supports the United States. Sure, I can look the other way on occasion, but the brass knows about this one, and with Scarecrow, Tank, and Wicked’s asses already chewed, I’d like to be able to sit down every day and have a nice conversation with my beautiful wife. So, the next time you go off the grid, I’m going to swift kick my size eleven so far up your ass, you’ll be walking sideways for a week. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, LT.”

“Good.”

“You want to hear the story now?”

Ruckus shook his head. “I’ve got some scotch stashed. Let’s go.”

When they stepped outside the door, everyone on the team was standing there. “Oh, I see. You all want to hear the story. How full is that scotch bottle, LT?”

“Full enough.”

They walked down the stairs. “Size elevens, huh?” Hollywood asked.

“Yeah,” Ruckus said clapping him on the back. “Steel toes.”

Hollywood wasn’t fazed. The next time he went off the grid, he’d have to make sure Ruckus never found out.

The wind whipped her hair around as she stood in front of the transport. Amanda’s flag-draped casket was being offloaded from the truck. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Wicked’s whole team, as well as Hollywood’s DIA friend, Dozer, had roused themselves at four forty-five in the morning to see her friend and colleague off. She looked for Michael, but he wasn’t present. She ground her teeth in disappointment and frustration. Someone had taken Amanda out of the equation, and her last words had to mean something important. Friendly fire. An absolute misnomer for killing your own troops in battle. But Amanda wasn’t in the military. What was she trying to say?

“Are you doing all right?” Wicked asked.

“No.”

“Loss is never easy, but Amanda fought, and she fought hard. It was clear to me she was fierce, brave, and tough. If she could have, she would have taken them all down.”

Her heart contracted, and Kat worked at keeping her emotions at bay. Why did he have to have so much integrity, have the kind of voice that soothed her, and have everything that she wanted? “She would have.”

They stood in silence as the casket was marched to the waiting plane that would take her home. She would be buried, but without any acknowledgment from the agency. Every CIA officer accepted that they were shadow warriors.

“There won’t be any fanfare, won’t be people waiting on the tarmac, won’t be family knowing Amanda was CIA. All anyone will see is that anonymous star on the wall,” he said.

Ah, damn, he got it. Another thing that made her lean toward mending their fences. Wicked understood Amanda’s commitment, her dedication to the agency, and her determination to make the world safer for people who looked at that star and didn’t understand the kind of sacrifices she had made for her country. It was strength Amanda would expect out of her, and that was what she was going to get today.

“She also knew that you had her back. It was clear from the look on her face. She was happy to see you, but also confident that she wasn’t alone. Because of your pushing and Hollywood’s luck, we found her and almost got her out.”

“I’m leaving with her,” Kat said, and Wicked nodded. Borkov had tried to escape, and when he’d been subdued, he’d hit his head hard enough to put him out. “Now that our main prisoner is in a coma, there’s no need to remain here. He’s being flown back to Coronado for advanced medical treatment. When he wakes up, I’ll be ready to ask the hard questions.”

“What about his wife and child?”

She turned to look at him, his grim eyes telling her he already knew. “We’ll use them for leverage.”

With that, she turned around and made a point of meeting every single man’s eyes. Ruckus nodded when she said, “Thank you all so very much.”

Then she walked away. She didn’t know what to say to Wicked yet. How to word what it was she wanted. After so many years of avoidance and animosity, making up with him seemed more difficult than just letting things go on as they had always been. And she might have, if he hadn’t shown up to rescue her, hadn’t cared about her when she’d refused medical treatment, and hadn’t had her back when Michael refused to go after Amanda.

But he had done all those things, and she couldn’t seem to go back to the way she’d felt about him before. It made her challenge everything that had happened the day her fiancé died. Made her wonder if it would have been different, would be something more between her and Wicked, if she had been honest with herself and with Wicked and Phoenix. With the connection she had always had with him, the fear of what kind of pain she had to sift through was almost daunting. Then her eyes landed on the casket and the flag. She took a deep breath, fighting her tears again with a secret wish that for once, just once she could allow Wicked to hold her like she wanted him to without all this…crap…between them.

Ruckus said softly, “Crow.”

Scarecrow peeled off from the group, her shadow. She could only feel such gratitude that these men went out of their way to watch her back. She wasn’t sure her own agency would go to that length. She was uneasy with her and Amanda’s abduction and Amanda’s murder. Two CIA officers who had worked secretly in Kirikhanistan without incident and now they had both been compromised. Amanda hadn’t burned her, so who had? One of their own or someone else?

She walked up the ramp and laid her hand on the casket while the light behind her faded into dimness. She’d take her friend home, and then she was going to fight as hard, as brave, and as relentlessly as Amanda had until she had the answers, or she’d die trying.

All In Bar and Grill

San Diego, California

The roar and rumble of the sleek motorcycle drew not only Wicked’s immediate attention but that of his teammates: Kid Chaos, Tank, Blue, Cowboy, and Hollywood.

His eyes were drawn to the Victory Judge, a sleek, intimidating ride with red and black rally stripes, five-spoke mag wheels like its namesake ’60s Pontiac muscle car, drag-style handlebars, a no-frills “brat” machine. While the motorcycle was impressive, the brat riding it caught everyone’s attention, dismounting in one fluid motion. The rider reached up to the black helmet and unbuckled the chinstrap. Off it came along with a wild tumble of long auburn hair.

Like the Judge, Kat Harrington was all sleek, muscled design, especially dressed as she was in head to toe black leather, truly a bad girl’s ride. She was made for speed.

Scarecrow’s pickup truck slipped in behind her. It had been three days since they had landed back in San Diego. They were keeping her in their sights until they were sure any threat to her had passed. Wicked let out a heavy breath, a lump forming in his throat, his chest getting tighter as he looked at her ride. He remembered that motorcycle, and the years that had passed didn’t make the memories any easier to bear. He rubbed at the damp spot on the knee of his jeans when he’d fallen in a puddle after dodging some dipshit in a black Mustang. The idiot had almost killed him when Wicked had crossed the street to enter the bar.

Hollywood had taken a long swallow of his beer and nearly choked on the drink when he caught sight of the bike and Kat.

Hollywood loved motorcycles, but he loved women almost as much.

“Damn,” he said softly under his breath, and Wicked wanted to haul off and knock him off his chair. But she had the same effect on him, too—all the time, every time.

He downed his own last few swallows of beer. Kat lived up to her bad girl reputation. Spy, spook, operative, company girl, assassin—she was all those things in an exquisite and classy bad way.

Dangerous.

She unzipped the black leather military inspired jacket, revealing a sheer hot pink muscle shirt, teasing them all with the delicacy of the white lace bra beneath. Her lower body should have come with a warning label—encased in tight black leather and a pair of knee-high metal and black boots that would put a dominatrix to shame. She was five feet, nine inches of pure, unadulterated, ass-kicking woman.

But now, after Kumma, he knew the vulnerable woman beneath all that attitude.

His heart uncontrollably skipped a beat, less than a fraction of a pause as Wicked wiped his hand across his mouth. He knew what she was, and she had been running wild ever since that fucked up op five years ago. He closed his eyes, the memories rushing over him. Letting go of the past was impossible, because it was his cross to bear. She was the government’s dark lady, used her wiles to avoid violence and her deadly skills when it wasn’t possible.

She came into the bar with that no-nonsense walk, slipping off the jacket as all male eyes followed her elegant glide across the room. Scarecrow went almost unnoticed.

Damn, she was still the only woman he’d spent way too much time thinking about, even more intensely since they had been home from Kumma. Stopping at the bar, she ordered a drink and didn’t hesitate when the shot was set in front of her. She picked it up and slammed it back, then gestured for another.

With Amanda, Kat had as many ghosts haunting her as Wicked did, he thought as he studied her face. She was pale and unhappy. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Kumma had been brutal for her.

She turned and leaned that shapely backside against the bar. She spied him and smiled in a way that made him feel like a hunted man. I will hate you for the rest of my life… It didn’t get any more real than that. She didn’t have to say words for him to understand what she meant in that no-holds-barred look of hers, even as his body warmed.

Damn. While he admired her tenacity to go after what she wanted and found her brazen pursuit of much needed-intel commendable, she tended to get too obsessive and one-track minded, ignoring the danger for results. She sometimes took unnecessary chances.

She hadn’t done that in the past…not before they’d lost Phoenix.

He knew with Kat on their team it would be interesting, but he hadn’t counted on this frustration. His reluctant attraction to her that made everything all the more complicated.

He returned his attention to his teammates and eyed them with suspicion. “Of all the bars in San Diego…” he growled. All those pairs of curious eyes glanced toward the bar. Kid sat next to him on the left, then there was Cowboy, and Blue along with Hollywood and Tank.

“She’s a hot babe. Dangerous as hell, but damn, you gotta take the good with the bad.” Hollywood, who was an expert, shook his head adamantly. “I think we should invite her over. She looks like she’s ready to do some partying.”

Wicked snorted. Though the fire and challenge in Hollywood’s eyes spoke a tale of their own, Hollywood wasn’t altogether upset about Kat’s appearance.

But he didn’t need this. The more he was near her, the harder it was to hide the attraction that sizzled to life whenever the two of them were in the same room, not to mention the possibility of her revealing anything about their past. He didn’t want the guys to know.

Wicked’s gaze shifted to Blue’s, and their medic and brother in arms held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I haven’t talked to her much at all.”

Which left Kid, and judging by the sheepish look on his face, Wicked rightly assumed the man was responsible for her presence. “Spill, crazy-boy,” Wicked said.

Kid shrugged. “I might have casually mentioned we often come here to drink after missions.”

“Loose lips sinks ships,” Wicked drawled wryly, giving Kid a hard time. “Next time keep your mouth closed.” Everyone chuckled. Kid leaned back in his chair and gave Wicked a speculative look.

“You two were pretty chummy in Kumma.”

Wicked took a drink of his beer, wondering if he ought to switch to something harder. “Don’t have a thing to say.” His teammates nodded at his noncommittal answer. Kat moved from the bar toward their table with a another shot in her hand. Unable to resist the pull, Wicked’s gaze traveled over her sheer shirt and tight pants that hugged every sweet curve of her.

“Hello, bad boys,” Kat said cheerfully. “Room for one more?”

He kept his opinion about her joining them to himself. They might have bonded in Kumma, but that was an isolated event, and he’d dropped his guard because she had needed him. But back in the real world, nothing had changed between them.

Kid and Blue said with wide smiles, “Grab a chair.”

She shoved her way between Kid and Wicked. Kat, with her wild tumble of red hair and direct green eyes, slanted Wicked a self-satisfied grin. He met her gaze with his own direct gaze.

Damn her. Setting the bottle on the table, he leaned back in his chair, glanced at the woman sitting next to him, and met that sizzling gaze of hers that never failed to stimulate him. She had an uncanny way of looking into a person and analyzing barriers, using them to her advantage. His barriers kept his real emotions under wraps.

What was between them was personal. He needed to maintain his guard.

“So nice to have you join us,” he said, his sarcasm clear.

She clinked bottles with Kid, a confident smile curving her lips. “What can I say? I enjoy the company of alpha men. We work together, and this is a good way to bond.”

Bond? What the hell kind of crap was that? “More like find our weaknesses and exploit them. Keep information you deem need to know and leave us in the dark.”

“Now you’re just being contrary, Orion.”

“That’s my MO,” he muttered.

“It sure is,” Kid said.

Wicked narrowed his gaze and growled, “You might want to check yourself, there Chaos.”

Kat returned her attention to him, a gleam in her hard eyes. “You just hate not being in control, Ri-Ri,” she purred.

“Ri-Ri?” Kid said and smirked. “I don’t think I ever heard anyone call him that.”

Wicked fixed his gaze on Kid. “And I better not hear it, boy.”

“If you weren’t being so antisocial, we would get along much better.” She gathered her hair into one thick mass, did some magic with the strands, and had it in a delicious tousled mess on top of her head. He caught the scent of jasmine as several defiant strands slid out and settled around her face. Wicked wanted to pull all that hair down again and see if it was as soft as it looked. He clenched his fists beneath the table.

“Don’t you have someone to assassinate, governments to topple?”

“Oh, I already did that stuff before breakfast.” She took a sip of her drink, most likely tequila, Kat’s drink of choice. When she slowly licked her lips, he homed in on that soft mouth. “We do have to get along since we’re going to be working closely together.” Her tone was teasing, but her eyes were deadly serious.

“We have to work together. Doesn’t change much, sweetheart,” he told her. “I’ve worked with plenty of…spooks.”

“I’m sure you have, but I’ve worked with plenty of gunslingers, too. We’re on the same side. We each know what the score is.”

Wicked’s jaw clenched tightly, but he remained quiet.

The guys were looking at each other as the tension between them escalated.

“We have more finesse, and you guys are brute force.” Kat’s comment made them sound like nothing but weapons, inanimate. Maybe after Phoenix that’s what she needed. His reasons for avoiding her had everything to do with self-preservation. He wished she’d found some other watering hole. He wasn’t going to show any emotion. It was going to be a long night, Wicked thought.

“We’re not just slabs of muscle and good looks,” Tank said. “We have brains, too.”

Wicked threw Kat a glance. “Not all of us want to be objectified.”

Kat snorted. “Is that so?” she argued.

“I don’t mind playing the dumbo for a woman if it gets me what I want. She never has to know there’s something else going on up here.” Hollywood tapped his temple.

“Or here,” Tank said, pressing on his chest. It was clear to Wicked he was thinking about his fiancée, Alyssa. Tank had to postpone his wedding, and now, the practical woman she was, Alyssa wanted to go to the justice of the peace, but Tank was holding out. Who knew the big guy was such a softie.

Wicked was happy so many of his teammates had found their happily ever afters. He wondered how that would even be possible for him.

Kat leaned closer to him, clearly enjoying pulling his chain. “You’re all eye candy and you know it. All those rippling muscles, handsome faces. Some of the women in here can’t keep their eyes off you.”

He frowned at her, impatience and something more heated stirring in him. “I’ll admit to nothing, except that you’re a pain in the ass.”

She chuckled, unaffected by his accusation. “I’m an operator same as you, but everyone is human.”

“Yeah, I’d volunteer, Kat, but I only do one-night stands,” Hollywood said with a grin.

Kat laughed and took another gulp of her tequila. “Don’t worry, handsome.” She gave him the once over. “You’re off the hook. I’m looking for more.” She looked back at Wicked and licked her lips, her eyes as wicked as his name. Then she switched her attention back to Hollywood. “On the other hand, if we both understand it’s just sex, what harm could it do? You’re the real thing. You epitomize everything a SEAL is.”

Wicked knew that statement was directed at him. He took deep breaths and dissipated the anger that immediately rose in him. There were so many unresolved issues that he’d buried deep. Maybe there would be a day of reckoning, but for now he’d had enough.

She stood and said, “I need to powder my nose.” She picked up her shot and threw it back. “Maybe while I’m gone, we can get some shots going.”

She turned her back and headed to the hallway at the end of the bar past the dance floor crowded with gyrating bodies. When he looked at his teammates, he saw curiosity, expectation and humor. Kid went to say something, but Wicked growled and his mouth closed.

Hollywood filled in the gap. “If I wasn’t a one-night stand guy….”

Before Wicked could check his emotions, a bit of the green-eyed monster hit him like a round to the chest, something that was stupid to even entertain. A flush of anger sent heat through him at the thought of them together, but it only drove it home to him how off-base he was about her. She was free to be with whomever she chose.

“Damn, Wicked,” Tank said, breaking his concentration. “That’s some scowl.”

“Shouldn’t we order some shots?” He drank the last of the beer in his bottle, thinking it would be a good idea for him to stop right here. The way he was feeling, he’d either get into a major fight with the guys or he’d…naw…don’t go down that road.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you rattled like she rattles you. Gotta be a good story there.” Hollywood’s stare was all too knowing. “If there is more. We won’t get it out of him, closed mouth son of a bitch.”

Hollywood was spot on. It was a story, not a particularly good one. None of them knew what had happened to them in the past. Not even Scarecrow knew. She’d put him through the emotional wringer, and she had affected him to the point it was hard to see himself with another woman.

Kid sighed and stood. “I’ve got to go. My husbandly duty calls.”

Hollywood grinned. “Pussy whipped much?”

Tossing money on the table, Kid laughed. “Someday Hollywood you’re going down and I’m going to be in the front row with popcorn and a soda enjoying the fucking show.” He clapped him on the back with the kind of happy smile that made Wicked envious.

Hollywood flagged the waitress and chuckled. “I’ve got my pick of women, that suits me fine. I’m afraid you’re going to be waiting a long time.”

“It’s all about the most wonderful, right woman. When she smacks you in the face, she’s going to give you love bruises.”

Everyone chuckled and with that Kid said good night and left.

Wicked looked around at his teammates. All of them except Hollywood were deeply in love. They had all made that commitment and were all besotted. Maybe he should move on, just get himself out there, find a good woman to settle down with, get Kat out of his system.

There was nothing but old, painful memories that had been nagging him ever since he’d met her.

He rubbed the back of his neck and when the waitress came to the table, he ordered another beer. Kat had embedded in his heart, was heavy on his mind and a part of his history good or bad. He couldn’t seem to shake her. She was forbidden temptation and erotic dream all rolled into a seductive powerful package. He had to admire how she did her job, how she never gave up the fight, giving all for her country.

As the night progressed, she drank recklessly along with Hollywood. Both of them were working on sweet next-day hangovers, but Hollywood never seemed to be that affected the next day. He was one of those guys. Wicked wasn’t sure why he’d stayed after Blue, Cowboy, Scarecrow, and Tank had left.

Hollywood stood and indicated the dance floor, using that charming smile of his. Wicked shifted irritably when Kat agreed. She’d down a couple more shots and wasn’t feeling any pain at this point. It wasn’t long before Hollywood had his hands on her waist, and they moved together to the lively beat. Then a woman entered, a sultry blonde with the kind of class Wicked hadn’t seen in here before. Hollywood locked eyes with her, and whispered something to Kat, who followed his gaze then smiled and laughed. Then he was gone, leaving Kat by herself.

She turned to look at him and the need in her eyes made him rise from the table, unsure if she wanted him to go to her.

“Dammit,” Wicked bit out, disgusted with himself for caring so much. Then it occurred to him. It was no surprise to him she was reacting to Amanda’s death. He understood she was trying to block it out or was there something else on her mind? There was that hope again.

His hand curled into a fist, and the muscles in his arm flexed. He wanted…dammit, he wasn’t going to give in to what he wanted.

He lost all sense of reason when it came to Kat and that look said she needed him right now. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted to be the man she turned to this moment and…forever. Coming up to her, he grabbed her arm and started to drag her off the floor. It was time for her to go home.

“Hey,” she protested.

“Come on, Kat,” Wicked said, low and menacing, and tugged her again. His plan was to get Kat out the door and into his truck. But Kat had a mind of her own, and she slipped her arms around his neck, flashing those sweet green eyes at him, effectively screwing up his plan.

“You are nothing but trouble with a capital T,” she teased.

“Ditto, lady,” he said and set his hands on her slim waist since she refused to move toward the door with him.

She moved closer as the music dropped into a soft, slow love song, fusing her body to Wicked’s, so much closer than she’d been to Hollywood. “If you’re going to rescue me, you have to dance with me.”

The feel of her warm body sent his system into overload. “Do I?” he murmured, his hands tightening on her waist. “I’m just too much of a damned hero.”

She laughed at his self-deprecating tone, pressing closer and plastering her breasts against his chest. “We both know that we don’t even come close.”

He winced at her words.

“I thought I had it right once.” Her fingers played with the thick curls of hair at the nape of his neck, and she tilted her head. She gave him a regretful smile, and his heart squeezed. Her delectable mouth looked sweet and tempting. “We can’t go back and fix anything. I wish that we could…wish I had told him…oh, fuck.” Her eyes welled.

So, they were back to that again. “We can’t change anything. What is done is done.” He released a long exhale just as an idea entered his mind, one that would benefit them both and finally end this agonizing situation for him. “I don’t think working together any more is a good idea,” he suggested.

“Why, so it’s easier on you, Rion?” she asked softly, clutching his shoulders, then slipping her hands down his chest, her palms warm. “He was my fiancé, but he was your brother.”

“I know who he was,” he said, his voice catching on the pain that he wrestled with almost daily. “So, no, Kat. I’ll leave so it’ll be easier on you,” he said softly.

Her eyes brimmed over, and she collapsed against him. It was time to get her out of here before the tequila talk got them both into trouble.