Bang: B-Squad Book Two (11 page)

P
retty boy was nervous
. Scratch that. Camacho was antsy. As his mother always said, poison ivy was the only thing that got a man more twitchy and itchy than a woman. The female who got Camacho all twitchy stood next to Isaac at the front of the B-Squad briefing room giving the rest of the team a rundown on Jarrod Fane, the Crest Society, and her niece Essie as if every single person in the room didn't already know it the whole story backwards and forwards.

Sure Tamara had given them the bare bones on the flight to the Indulgence Resort before they'd rescued Gidget from that crazy-ass drug-dealing bitch Yasmin Romanow, but he'd done some digging into Tamara’s story after they'd returned. He wasn't the only one.

She might be brass tacks when it came to organization and logistics, but she didn't know jack about how hard it was to keep secrets in a place like the Devil's Dip Gym building.

The B-Squad worked together, they played together, they fought together, and they lived together on the second and third floors of the building like a hippie commune. Well, if that commune had access to enough firepower and know-how to take over a small country, anyway. But she'd been dead set on acting as if nothing was wrong and they'd let her. Looking back, that probably hadn't been the best plan.

Almost out of nowhere, a pair of pointy-toed black stilettos with a metal snake winding around the narrow, shiny four-inch heels landed on his thigh, jerking his attention away from the front of the room. His gaze traveled up from the wearer's feet to her long leather-encased legs to the jade green filmy tank top to Elisa Sharp's face as she sat in the chair next to him. She'd plopped down on the seat next to him right before the Isaac and Tamara show had started. Up until now she'd let him be. He'd known it wouldn't last. It never did.

The woman did love to toy with him as if he was an idiot boy fresh off the farm instead of the kind of highly sought-after scarred up and colorfully tattooed muscle with explosive expertise that mercenary companies from across the globe wanted. He'd been courted by the best and yet here he was in Fort Worth, being tormented by a pocket-sized badass who twisted the truth for a living.

His whole body itched and twitched and almost shuddered. Also, his dick got harder than the heels on her fuck-me shoes—not an unusual occurrence around the B-Squad's resident chameleon and con artist.

She raised one dark eyebrow and blew him a kiss.

It was a tease.They both knew it. He wasn't her type. She was small and beautiful and devious right to the core. He was big, lumbering and a mama's boy—okay, not really, but he and his mom did talk once a week. Family meant something to him. It always had. He'd started watching out for his mother and little sister the day his father went to prison for life and had never stopped. That wasn't going to change just because Duke, Lash, Keir, and Taz liked to bust his balls about it.

Unlike him, Elisa had lost her entire family when her dad died years ago. He'd asked her about it once and she'd told him family didn't matter. That was the instant he'd known that for as much as she turned him on, for as much as he wanted to fuck her silly, that was all it would ever be. Family meant everything to him. Always had. Always would.

Marko encircled Elisa's narrow ankles with one hand and lifted upward before she had the chance to rub against his cock, which was trying to go all Hulk on his jeans. He offered a silent apology to his dick and swung her legs away from him. Once she was clear, he released his hold, but not before he saw a knowing look cross her looks-like-an-angel face.

"Please don’t say you’re scared by little ol’ me.," she whispered, leaning close enough into him that her tits pressed against his bicep.

He gulped past the rush of lust. "Right down to my bones."

"There's only one of those I'm interested in." She danced her fingertips up his thigh, stopping before things got interesting. "And it sure is interested in me."

He should remove her hand. Having her fingers that close to his cock while her tits were against his arm was detrimental to his higher functions. He knew it. She knew it. He kept his hands where they were.

"You're imagining that."

"Just like I imagine you're always watching me? That it's not by accident that we always end up sitting next to each other?"

"You sat down beside me," he responded.

"This time." She squeezed his thigh with her quick fingers before letting him go and nodding her chin at Isaac and Tamara. "Think they've fucked already?"

"I don't think about where Camacho's dick has been." Too many places to count was the answer to that.

"What about your dick?" Her hand was back, this time hovering over his thigh, the proximity almost as bad—in the best way possible—as her touch. "Where has it been lately?"

Not a question he'd be answering here. They were set off from the rest of the group, closest to the back wall and the door per usual and were whispering, but he'd be a fool to believe everyone in the room didn't have at least half an ear tuned into their discussion. Gossipy assholes.

"You're going to miss the briefing."

She snorted. "We both know the score. And what's going to have to happen next."

"Exfil and take down." The question was how they'd do it and how hard Tamara would fight it. She was smart, but she didn't trust anyone. Without that, you couldn't work in a team environment. Camacho had lone wolf disease so any mission involving him was already going to be a cluster fuck without adding in Tamara's stubborn streak.

"It's what we do—but not all we could be doing," she said, the look in her eyes as innocent as her meaning was downright dirty.

That's the way it was with her. You never knew what you were getting, what was a lie and what was true. He'd figured ignoring how she affected him was the way to go. Maybe it was time to change tactics and go on offense.

He turned in his seat, giving her the perfect view of a face that had seen too many fists to be called anything but ravaged. It wasn't enough, so he let his eyes go cold. Serious. Mercenary.

Her eyes widened and the vein in her neck jumped in response. This time he was the one who leaned in close, but not to whisper in her ear. He wanted to see her face.

"You looking for a quick, hard fuck, Elisa?"

"Always." Her breath was ragged, but she didn't flinch. She was too flinty for that.

God, the woman unnerved him, and damned if his dick didn't love it. Instead of answering, he turned his attention back to the front of the room. Tamara was finishing up with her spiel.

"Chicken." Elisa issued the one-word challenge with a soft chuckle.

He shook his head. "Smart."

"It's always the quiet ones that I really want to hear yell."

"You want to hear me to cry uncle?"

"That's not exactly the sexiest thing you could scream when you're buried inside me."

With that last shot, she stood and walked away swinging her narrow hips and giving him the perfect view of her pert, leather-clad ass as she crossed the room to where Vivi and Lexie stood. Typical. She wound him up and left him itching for more, which was exactly why he needed to stay the fuck away from her. Once he had a taste, he wasn't sure he'd be able to deny himself again—and there was nothing more dangerous than getting involved with a woman who lied for a living and liked it.

E
veryone
in the room was getting restless. Isaac couldn't blame them. Vivi, Lexi and Elisa stood on one side of the room. They were a dangerous trio of investigative know-how, hacker can-do and flimflam artistry. Gidget was in attendance, sitting sandwiched between Taz and Bianca like a guarded treasure. Keir, Lash, and Duke were set up around a table littered with cards from an abandoned game of Spades between them. Only Marko sat by himself in the back of the room, dividing his attention between Tamara as she talked and Elisa across the room.

Even if Tamara didn't realize it, most of the B-Squad already knew more than a little of her story. Now they just wanted to get to the solution side of things. It sounded like a damn fine plan to him.

"So let me get this straight," Lexie said, her fingers flying across the keys of the laptop resting on top of a three-drawer filing cabinet. "Your sister married a cult leader who runs his own militia group. She managed to get out and was fighting for custody of her teenage daughter when she died. You got shared custody of Essie, but Fane owns almost all of the judges in the area, so you took off with the girl before he could win the court battle for full custody and force her to marry one of his toadies. She's hidden somewhere with someone you trust. Now Fane has found you, and it's only a matter of time until he grabs you and does whatever it takes to force Essie's location from you. Do I have that right?"

Tamara blanched but held her ground. "Pretty much."

"And you figured you'd wait until now to ask for help because…?" Keir asked, getting straight to the burr that had clearly forced its way under everyone's saddle, judging by the annoyed expressions on eight of the ten faces looking out at them. Taz and Bianca were the exceptions.

Tamara gripped her hands tight in front of her, but her voice remained steady. "Lash helped me set up security at the house and I figured that would be enough. I didn't want to involve anyone else in my mess more than I already had"

Vivi snorted. "Last night's almost-gunfight in front of our building pretty much took care of that."

Tamara turned crimson.

A responding protectiveness rushed through Isaac. He didn't mean to take a step in front of her, but he did. He couldn't stop himself. "That wasn't her fault."

"No one said it was, Camacho." A smile tugged at the edges of Bianca's lips. "So we need a three-pronged approach. We need to build a case against Fane, keep a twenty-four/seven watch on Tamara, and get Essie here so we can protect her."

"She's safe where she is," Tamara said, her knuckles turning white from her grip.

"No, she's not," Bianca said, her voice understanding. "If Fane found you, he can find Essie."

Like magic, even though it was just Lexie pushing a switch, a screen came down from the ceiling. On it was a photo of Jarrod Fane and a bio in bullet point form listing his age, known aliases, and closest advisors, along with a brief listing of law enforcement officials believed to be in his pocket.

Tamara's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before reality sank in. She might not have realized it up until that moment, but the B-Squad had taken her in as one of their own. Whether she thought she deserved it or not, she had a place with them, and that meant they'd help—even when she didn't ask.

"You're right." It cost Tamara to say those two words, but she hid it well—only the tightness around her mouth gave her away.

Taz nodded. "Go with Lexie and Vivi, they'll need all the information you can give them to work up a preliminary dossier so we can narrow down potential vulnerabilities."

"I can help," Isaac said. "I've been doing a little research on my own." Okay, a lot, but he didn't need to go into that in front of everyone.

"Imagine that," Lash said, not bothering to hide his smirk. "I suppose you think you'd be the best one to be her twenty-four/seven."

"Stop busting his chops, Lash," Bianca said, all business as she nailed Isaac to the floor with a piercing gaze. "This isn't like other freelance jobs. This is for one of our own. It's a team effort.No on goes lone wolf on this one."

Lone wolf? Is that what they wanted to call it? He didn't play well with others. He did what was right, not what he was told. It had cost him his rank. His livelihood. His brothers in arms. And if he had to go back and do it again, he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. This wasn't Afghanistan, though, and the members of the B-Squad weren't a scared, mentally broken Marine with a gun to a four-year-old girl's head. In this specific instance, he could do the one thing he swore he'd never do again. Be a team player.

He nodded. "Understood."

Taz gave him a long, hard look, as if the former boxer was sizing him up before they stepped into the ring. "I sure hope so."

Heat flared in a primitive part of Isaac’s brain, the one that responded to direct challenges with fists and firearms. It took a second, but he managed to push it back. Taz was just looking out for Tamara.The entire B-Squad was. They weren't the enemy. Jarrod Fane was. Still, the whole inquisition chapped his ass.

"If you're done lecturing me," he said with only the barest hint of a snarl. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Elisa and Marko, you'll tag-team as backup on this one," Bianca said, rattling off orders like she'd been born to run a team like this. "Get packed and be ready to go first thing in the morning. I'll call Jake Warrick with Absolute Security and tell him we need the jet back from Dry Creek, Nebraska ASAP. While you're getting Essie, the rest of us will monitor from here while we develop the case against Fane. Keir, you'll take lead on that. Pump your contacts for everything you've got, and I need it yesterday."

Isaac didn't wait for a dismissal. He had his orders. In a moment of complete non-verbal understanding, he and Tamara turned as a unit and strode across the room. Vivi and Lexie were already headed out into the hallway. He and Tamara followed out the door behind them. They'd taken a few steps into the hallway when Tamara slowed to a stop.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

He could tell her all about that night, peel back his skin and show her all the invisible scars that were still as jagged as they were in the heartbeat after he'd fired that kill shot. He could tell her. But he wouldn't. Some ugly was best left buried.

"I'm a man of mystery." He'd tried the good old boy grin, but it felt crooked on his face. So he did what he always did. He walked.

She curled her fingers around his forearm, stopping him. "No, you're not, you're—"

A muffled version of “Flight of the Valkyries” sounded from her purse. All the blood drained out of her face as she skipped rooting around for the phone and dumped it out in the middle of the hallway instead. She squatted down, shoving through the receipts, tubes of lipstick, and stray receipts until she retrieved her phone with trembling hands.

"Essie, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice pinched.

He couldn't hear the answer, but whatever it was made Tamara sink to the floor, her long hair covering her face.