Chapter Six

FOX

 

Fuckin’ selfish bastard. Fox scrubbed his body angrily like he was punishing himself. Well at least his cock wasn’t hard as steel anymore. It’d taken every ounce of strength he’d had to pull out of Shot right when he was about to come. To rip his satisfaction away when it was right there made him dizzy. Now he was cursing his own stupidity while he showered. He’d refused to jerk off with that selfish prick’s sweat still on his skin. Or still with the feel of his tight ass around him, while his face was buried in silky hair that smelled of cherry almonds.

Shit. Now he was getting hard again. Fox stopped scrubbing his body and placed one hand on the wall letting his head rest on his forearm. He was so pissed off by Shot’s dismissive attitude. He’d thought they were actually working towards something. He didn’t know that Shot didn’t – matter of fact, wouldn’t – ever consider Fox worthy of his devotion and time. He’d never be more than a hard cock and a different hand to use to get Shot off.

All this time. Almost a year. Why the fuck did Shot think that Fox was still assisting Backhander? Did he really think that Fox needed the experience or something stellar to add to his resume? Fuck, he couldn’t even add this to his resume, or get any type of merit for his marksmanship, because everything Backhander did was classified ‘Top Secret’. He wasn’t there for any of that shit anyway. He was there for Shot. Because he fucking loved him. He wanted to be with the man. Build something solid with him. They had so much in common and got along better than anyone Fox had ever been around. But for some reason, Shot didn’t see it that way. He wouldn’t.

Fox slapped the wall. Growling at his own ignorance. He’d done it again. He fell for someone whose heart was inaccessible.

 

Shot

Shot drove as slowly as he could on the highway. It was still early. Well, not really, but too early for him to have left Fox’s place. On the rare occasions that he got to go there, he typically didn’t leave until three or four in the morning. Fox was right. He’d make up an excuse anytime Fox recommended they go to sleep, or if he saw Fox dozing off. He couldn’t sleep with the man.

It wasn’t just an excuse. It wasn’t like Shot didn’t want to sleep next to all that hot maleness, because he did want to more than anything. But the horror that visited him in his dreams made Shot a serious danger to anyone that was near him. Last thing he’d want to do was unknowingly hurt Fox.

PTSD is a very serious mental disorder. Shot didn’t have it so bad that he couldn’t function in society or perform on missions. He was still fit for duty, but his dreams were another story. He’d awaken at night in cold sweats, yelling out at the enemy, or the worst one… reaching for his weapon. He’d only dozed off a few times around Fox and each time he was awakened he’d been startled and had to practically hide his reactions. He thanked God that he’d never gotten into a deep sleep around him.

The Beastmasters were used to this. Some of them were on meds for minor symptoms. A few of them only had to see a psychologists a few times a month. However, Call had the worst PTSD out of all of them. Still, the man was like a rock most of the time. There used to be nothing that could shake him, throw him off his game. But recently Call’s anger had been getting the best of him. Maybe it was time for the Beastmasters to pass the reigns.

Shot did a loop around the nation’s capital. Trying to clear his head. What the hell was he going to do now? Go back to headquarters and work on the case. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to sleep. Not with everything going on in his head.

After making a few turns and coming back around to be sure he wasn’t being followed, Shot pulled into the underground garage and pulled into the spot next to their big rig. He punched in the code on the keypad and stepped inside. Viper was already in there.

“I thought I told everyone to go and unwind. What are you doing in here?” Shot stood in front of his locker with his back to his teammate. He couldn’t let the SEAL read his inner turmoil.

“I did go and unwind. Toad and I went to that bar off of 16th street, you know the one with the –”

“Yeah, yeah I know the one, Viper.” Shot cut him off. Not the slightest bit interested in the descriptions of female eye candy.

Viper laughed, still looking at his five monitors. “Anyway. I tipped back a few. Got a blowjob in the back. When I came back out, I realized I’d lost my wingman.”

Shot turned around smiling now. “Toad got lucky.”

“Yep.”

“You sure?”

“He sent me a text ten minutes later. Said he’d be back in the morning.”

Shot laughed and went about cleaning his weapons. Busy work.

“So you’re back early. What happened? Fox too tired to get it up tonight?” Viper chuckled, never taking his keen eyes off the monitors. Talking shit to him but keeping full concentration on the Amtrak scheduler and scanning the Loretto Federal Correctional facility’s visitor log for Valenzo’s recent company. They needed a break on this case soon or else everything was going to go to shit.

“Shut up,” Shot grunted.

“Love the hair out. Sexy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Viper.”

“Fine. Fine. Shutting up, boss.”

“Where’s Call?”

“I can talk now?”

Shot huffed and walked out the back of the eighteen-wheeler, slamming the door behind him. He knew Viper was wondering ‘what the fuck crawled up his ass?’ but Shot wasn’t in a joking mood. He went up the three flights of stairs and let himself into the kitchen of their headquarters. Call was sitting at one of the cafeteria style tables with a beer turned up to his mouth. 

A few of Pierce’s guys were at a table at the far end. Shot gave them a quick head nod and sat down next to Call.

“Love the hair. So free and flowing,” Call deadpanned.

Shot smirked at him. “Everyone’s so full of annoying ass humor tonight.”

Call didn’t respond. His face was stoic. No smiles, no laugh lines, or twinkling in his eye. Only, shrapnel-marred flesh on his left side and an angry scowl on his right. He turned his beer up and continued to study the men a few tables over.

“Why are you staring at them like that?” Shot studied the gorgeous side of Call’s face.

“Fuck them,” Call said too loudly.

“Alright. Time to go.” Shot stood and placed a firm grip on Call’s shoulder. He flinched noticeably, but quickly honed in on his usual airtight control. The guys were scowling back now and Shot was hoping that this wasn’t about to turn into a world’s toughest man contest. Especially with only two of them here and five of Pierce's men. Shot was sure he and Call could take each one down in a matter of minutes, but they were all on the same team… technically. Pierce’s guys were mostly Feds, a few were also DEA, but all highly trained men. They’d all been working side-by-side for weeks, trying to make America safer. They’d just come off of back-to-back seizures while being cramped either in headquarters or safe houses. Way too much fucking testosterone.

Call stood and walked out in front of Shot.

“Outside,” Shot ordered.

“What the fuck?”

“Just go.”

They went through the wide-open space of the warehouse. Some areas had been sectioned off for the admin personnel, dispatch, surveillance, detention, arsenal compound, and various other areas. Call slowed down at surveillance and looked up at the monitors. Pierce had his back to them, bent down tapping on the keys that eventually changed the screen to a fuzzy image of a woman walking into a hotel. He’d made it display the same shot from different angles on three of the screens. Pierce tapped the keys some more and the image moved backwards. He hit the key again and let it re-play.

“Is that her?” Call’s deep voice right beside Pierce made the small man jump so hard he ended up knocking the chair over next to him. His eyes were wide from shock and partly from terror.

“Relax, Backhander,” Shot said quietly.

Shot could see Call’s neck muscles tensing as he watched Pierce. He knew their leader was ashamed of again losing his composure, especially with a team member.

“Pierce. There is no excuse for my behavior yesterday. I sincerely apologize and assure you it won’t happen again.” Call’s voice was calculated and official as if he was standing in front of Supreme Court Justices. “I assaulted an officer of the law.”

Shot knew what Call was doing. He released a soft sigh and stepped in front of his senior commander. “Pierce Nickols would you like to press charges against Commander Marion for assault and –”

“Whoa, whoa Shot. Fuck no.” Pierce was shaking his head like what Shot was saying was absurd. “Of course I don’t want to do that. I fucked up. I withheld vital information from an officer which could’ve resulted in casualties. I understood Commander Marion’s reaction. Let’s just put it behind us and move forward… that is if you’ll still work with me for our final mission.”

Shot stepped back and let Call take Pierce’s outstretched hand. Call shook hands with Pierce, his light eyes staring intensely at him. Shot knew Pierce probably didn’t know it, but that was Call’s ‘thank you’.

“We’d be honored,” Call replied. “It’s time for the Russian mob to clear out of the United States.

Pierce nodded and turned back to the screens. “To answer your earlier question. Yeah, that’s her. Pavlo Valenzo’s wife just checked into a hotel in Richmond. She’s taken the Amtrak out of Richmond Staples Mill Station. Looks like she’s trying to change her typical travel habits, which leads me to believe –”

“She’s hiding from someone,” Call finished.

“Exactly. Viper has already changed her trip itinerary to layover for an hour and a half here at Union Station. We’ll intercept her there.” Pierce looked up at Shot. “Can Fox be here in a couple days? I want him to charm her into having a cup of coffee with him. I’ll be in the Starbucks two blocks over.”

Shot’s chest tightened at the mention of Fox’s name. “Umm. I don’t think so.”

Everyone turned and looked at Shot like he’d just said ‘fuck America’.

“What? He’s not available, alright!” Shot narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “He’s working on another assignment.”

Pierce shrugged like it was nothing. “Oh, I’ll take care of that.” Pierce took out his phone and pressed one button before speaking. “Get me Deputy Spencer, please.”

Fuck. Shot needed some time away from Fox. He couldn’t have the man all in his space right after what went down between them tonight. “Why don’t we just use someone else?”

“Like who?” Call looked at Shot suspiciously. There was no hiding his strange behavior. And there was no reason for him not to want Fox on the team or on a mission when they worked so well together.

“Like one of Pierce’s guys,” he recommended.

“They’re not field operatives, Shot. What the fuck is going on?” Call turned on him, demanding answers.

Shot was getting more and more upset. “It’s a fucking cup of coffee. How hard is it to ask a woman for a drink, huh? The fucking records guy can do that. He’s handsome. Let him do it. Or fuck it, I’ll do it.”

Call stepped closer to him. “If you’re not going to give me a straight answer then stop talking. You’re going to be on point where you supposed to fuckin’ be and Fox is going to intercept. Done.”

Shot turned and saw Shade coming in with Lucky and Viper.

“Ohh sexy, man.” Shade wolf whistled.

Shot rolled his eyes. That was it. He was going to put his hair back in a braid. He hit Shade in his shoulder on his way past him. “You guys don’t even know what to do with a fucking night off,” he murmured as he took the stairs two at a time and closed himself in one of the rooms upstairs.