Fixed Asset (Downrange), page 9
He was a saint, after all.
“Is your nickname because of Saint Peter?” I thought for a moment. “Isn’t he the patron saint who holds the keys to heaven?”
“Yup.”
He was lying.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re lying?”
“Because I am.”
“Are you going to tell me how you got your nickname?”
“Nope. That story’s reserved for teammates. The kind who stay with the team and aren’t a one and done.”
Well, damn.
“Are you offering me a job?”
“No, I’m offering you a place on a team.”
My stomach did a flip. I liked that I’d earned the respect of a man like Pete. But there was Jack to consider. I didn’t want to be a distraction, and if he couldn’t get over me being in the line of fire, I wouldn’t risk his life or the lives of the other men on the team.
“Are you thinking about Jack?”
I normally wasn’t so transparent. To make myself feel better, I chalked it up to Pete’s superior situational awareness.
“How’d you know?” I tossed out the rhetorical question with a smile.
“He knows I want you on the team. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if the team didn’t agree you were a good fit.”
Jack agreed.
He’d said he loved me, which still had me walking on air. And he’d admitted he’d been wrong. Not to mention, he hadn’t ridden to the rescue until I’d called for backup. Though, he had been the first one to make it to the house, and Mason was huffing and puffing, bitching about Jack’s ‘my woman’s in danger’ superpower. But he’d waited. Then he’d come for me. He’d trusted I knew my limitations. He’d trusted me to take care of myself.
That was huge.
That was what I needed.
“What about Ryan and Aiden? They haven’t met me.”
“There’s also Gavin. He’s back in San Diego keeping an eye on the Dirty Plank. But you’ve won Mason,” he weirdly stated.
“I’m not tracking.”
Pete shifted uncomfortably and glanced around the forecourt. Berta and the rest of the team would be out soon.
“Mase doesn’t trust easily. It took Jack about five months before Mase started to trust him, and that’s not on Jack, that’s on Mason. He’s been my best friend for a long time, and sometimes I wonder if there will ever come a day when he lets me in. He’s the best man to have your back in a firefight. He’ll sit around the fire, have you busting a gut laughing, and he’ll do it while drinking you under the table. But that’s all you’ll get from him. He’ll trust you with his life, but not with his secrets or his scars.”
I thought about Mason’s devil-may-care smile, and my heart ached for him. I’d sensed the darkness in him, but it bothered me knowing how deep it ran.
“So what I’m saying is,” Pete went on, “if Mason trusts you after forty-eight hours, they’re all in.”
It was good to know I had Mason’s trust. I’d take it and keep it safe.
“Let me think about it. I just bought a nice condo in Prescott.”
“San Diego’s weather’s better. And I think I got something you want that’s more valuable than real estate.”
“What’s that?”
“Jack.”
He wasn’t wrong. I wanted Jack and Jack was in San Diego. And as cool as my condo was, I’d give it up in hot Arizona in a second to be with him.
“I don’t know, those social media financial gurus say real estate’s where the money’s at.”
“On second thought, Jack’s place is a dump. You might wanna convince him to move in with you.”
Oh no.
I didn’t live in dumps. Not because I was some pretentious twit, but I’d bounced from filthy house to filthy house after my grandma died until a second cousin took me in and gave me a home. I made a promise to myself I’d never again live in filth and clutter.
Could I make an exception if it meant having Jack? Yes. Would I scrub his house from top to bottom like a woman on a mission to give her man a sparkling-clean house? Also yes.
“Damn, the look on your face is priceless.” Pete chuckled. “I’m joking. He lives in a minimansion by the water.”
It seemed like Jack and I had a lot to talk about—like how in the hell he could afford a minimansion in Southern California where the prices were insane. I’d seen houses for sale on the side of a busy highway for nearly a million dollars.
“I’m not money—”
“I know you’re not.” He stopped me from finishing. “I know you lost your parents, then your grandmother, and from there you moved from family member to family member, none of them keeping you long because they couldn’t afford you. Until the last one you stayed with until you left for the Army.”
That was a watered down, nice version of why they hadn’t kept me. The truth was they didn’t want me.
I wasn’t embarrassed by how I grew up, so that wasn’t what had my anger spiking. Neither was it a secret I was ashamed of. But I didn’t like people knowing personal things about me that I hadn’t shared with them directly. I hadn’t even discussed with Jack how I’d grown up, and Pete knew.
“Did you share this with Jack?”
Pete’s eyes narrowed. “I know you don’t know me, so I take no offense. You’ll come to learn that I don’t share business that’s not mine.”
“But you’ll snoop and find it for yourself.”
Pete nodded, then verbally confirmed, “When it comes to my team, damn right. What I don’t do is speak out of turn.”
Some of my irritation waned. If I was in his position, I’d snoop too.
Yet, I wasn’t ready to let it go.
“Did you find out anything else interesting?”
“Just that you have excellent credit and you need to pay off your car. The interest rate sucks. Better yet, sell it. Fords suck.”
I was highly offended at this blasphemous statement. “I love my Mustang.”
Pete shook his head. “You’ll love a Camaro more.”
I doubted that.
One of Berta’s guards was coming out of the house with Jack. It was go time, but I had more to say.
“I can’t work for a man who doesn’t like Fords,” I told him haughtily.
“Can you love a man who hates them?”
“No.” I drew out the word and watched Jack as he made his way to us.
Jack did a slight head tilt when he saw me staring. His eyes flicked between me and Pete before they finally planted on Pete and narrowed.
“What’s happening?” Jack asked me.
“You don’t like Fords?”
“Hate them. I drive a Chevy.”
My jaw dropped. This couldn’t be.
“I’ve owned Fords my whole life,” I told him.
“We’re a Chevy family,” he returned.
My hip hitched and my hand landed there. Unfortunately, the whole throwing-attitude thing was ruined when I winced. Damn tracking device.
“You didn’t tear it open, did you?”
“No. I don’t think so. Maybe. But we’re discussing something important.”
He took in my position. Any smart man would note the hand on the hip and wisely change his current standing on whatever the topic was, and change it before things deteriorated further.
But not Jack.
No. He doubled down.
“How often do you trade in your Fords?”
“Every four or five years.”
“Right. Baby, one of my Chevys has over two hundred thousand miles on her and she still purrs.”
More people were coming out of the house. It was really time to wrap up this conversation, but I was curious.
“How many Chevys do you have?”
“Four. Two pickups, a Camaro, and a nineteen-seventy-nine Nova.”
Damn, he had me at Nova.
“You still got your ’Stang?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll like the Camaro better.”
Pete took this as his opportunity to rejoin the conversation. He did this by busting out laughing.
Jerk.
“I’ll accept the job,” I ungraciously spat.
“Thought you would.”
I rolled my eyes, then turned to Jack. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he tagged me around the waist, hauled me close, then in front of Pete, kissed the hell out of me.
This was going to be the best job ever.
Jack broke the kiss, brushed his lips over my cheek, then kissed my temple.
“Be safe, baby. I’ll see you in an hour.”
With that, he strode away.
No way he’d flipped that fast.
“Is he leaving now so he’s not tempted to yank me out of the van and cuff me to him?” I asked Pete.
“More than likely.” Pete’s smile died. “Give the man a minute to adjust. He’s fighting against his instincts. He knows he can’t hold you back, but everything in him is screaming not to let you face danger. But he’s not stupid and doesn’t want to lose you, so he’ll figure it out.”
Suddenly I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to figure it out. That sounded like a whole lot of sacrifice on his part—fighting his nature without any compromise on my part.
“That doesn’t sound like the makings of a strong relationship,” I whispered.
Pete’s lips pressed tight, his eyes went to the dirt, and when he sniffed, I didn’t think he was going to comment. But then his gaze came back to mine, and a different Pete was standing before me. Not the commando, not the badass man, but a kind, brotherly type who was at the ready to impart wisdom and guidance.
“Sometimes it takes losing something important before you wake up and see what’s actually important.” He paused, so I nodded my understanding. “And if you’re lucky enough to get it back, you work your ass off to keep it. But if you’re smart, you understand what’s really important, what you really want. What love really means is doing everything in your power to make sure the other person is happy and fulfilled and free to be who they are. Jack’s lucky and smart. He’s fighting now, but he’ll win the battle because it’s the only way to keep you, and for him to give you what you need.”
I didn’t need to think about what Pete said. He was right; my grandmother had taught me that love was putting others before yourself. Which brought me back to my original thought—how much sacrifice was too much?
“Yeah, but what is it that Jack needs?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“For you to make it worth it.” Pete stepped closer, clapped me on the shoulder, and added, “And before you ask, you giving him whatever it was when the two of you were out back, that’s all he needs. Just that, Catarina. You be you, and he’ll have everything he needs.”
God, I hoped he was right. But I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with Jack going against who he was just so I could be me.
Something to think about later.
“One more thing before we roll out.” I blinked at Big Kind Brother Pete’s abrupt change back to Work Pete. “Shep’s looking into Tom and why the CIA sent you to deliver bogus intel. We haven’t had time to talk about it, but tomorrow after the delivery’s done, we need to find time. It’s not sitting well with me.”
It wasn’t sitting well with me either. But with everything going on, I hadn’t had time to give it much thought other than I was still pissed I’d been played.
“My phone’s been off since the warehouse. Do you think I should call Tom?”
“Not until after the delivery’s done.”
Part of me wondered if Tom had sent out a recovery team to find me after my tracker went offline. The bigger part of me didn’t think he did. I was probably expendable; the device was to find Berta, not to keep me safe.
“I think this is about the president’s wife,” I blurted out.
She was the only high-value target in the group of women. Unless they’d changed teams completely and wanted to stop Berta’s efforts.
Pete nodded. “That’s my thought too.” Another clap on my shoulder. “Be safe. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
Pete sauntered away toward the van. My gaze followed him. I couldn’t see Mason, but I could see Jack standing at the open door of the passenger’s side.
The man of my dreams.
Tall and strong and perfectly made for me.
I drank him in, stopping at his clenched fist.
Yeah, I had to be me, but I also had to compromise.
There had to be something I could give him to even the scales.
My eyes went back to his. From this distance, they looked obsidian.
He jerked his head toward the other vehicles.
Bossy.
“I love you,” I mouthed.
His hands unclenched, and he smiled.
After that, I hightailed it to my ride.
Chapter Twelve
“Your woman doesn’t like boats.” Fallon mumbled his understatement.
Twenty minutes into the four-hour ride across the Gulf, my girl had turned sheet white. To be fair, it had been windy and choppy and the old forty-one-foot Carver was over capacity, and twenty people in the below cabin had made the air stifling.
“It’s a good thing she decided on the Army,” Mason put in. “She’d never make a Special Boat Crew.”
“I wouldn’t tell her that. She might enlist in the Navy just to prove you wrong,” Pete joined in.
I leaned back in my chair and let that wash over me—the pride and respect in Pete’s tone hit deep. It was the same way Wilson had spoken about Catarina during our op in Vegas. Wherever the woman went, she garnered the respect of the people around her.
And I almost lost her.
Movement out the window caught my attention. Aiden was strolling across the grass, coming back up from the small, private beach behind the villa. Berta’s connections in Belize weren’t your everyday, run-of-the-mill do-gooders. They were rich and powerful men who believed in her cause and bankrolled her rescues. That meant within minutes of pulling into a private dock, the women and children had been whisked away to start their new lives.
Mission complete.
We’d debrief with Berta tomorrow, then be on our way home.
My home was San Diego. Catarina’s was Prescott. She’d accepted Pete’s job offer, but she didn’t need to live in California to spin up with us. She could stay in Arizona.
The thought of losing her again, even to distance, created a sharp pain. My hand lifted and rubbed the ache in my chest. I could move, rent my house out, go back to Arizona, a place I’d lived for a few years and swore when I left the heat I’d never go back.
But for Cat, I’d deal.
For her, I’d do anything as long as she was at my side.
On that thought, how long did a shower take?
Unreasonable fear licked up my back. She’d been gone too long. The house had been cleared. Ryan had walked the perimeter. Aiden was still outside patrolling the back for no reason other than he’d wanted fresh air. She was safe.
The bruise on her jaw came to mind. The way she’d stood over Pete, protecting him while he got his bearings. The fierce look on her face when I’d rushed into the house. No one was going to hurt Pete without getting through her first.
Danger.
She’d put herself in the line of fire—again.
That knot in my gut grew.
Before I realized what I was doing, I’d pushed back from the table.
Mason’s hand grabbed my forearm, and, with force, he yanked me back down.
“Unless you’re going up there for some sexy fun time, sit your ass down.”
“It’s been—”
“Not even five minutes,” he interrupted. “I hear women take longer than that just to loofah. So, again, unless you’re headed up there to offer to wash her back . . . stay.”
He said that last part like I was his dog and he was barking a command.
“What the hell is a loofah?” Ryan asked.
My gaze met Pete’s. There was a lot the man was silently communicating, but the takeaway was that Mason was right, I needed to stay.
“No clue. Never showered with a woman,” Mason casually threw out, like he hadn’t just divulged something personal.
“Seriously?” Fallon quizzed.
Mason unwrapped a candy bar, his third since we’d been gathered around the kitchen table, and shook his head.
“Nope.” Mason’s tone made it clear that particular conversation was over.
“A loofah is used to cleanse and exfoliate the skin,” Ryan explained with his head bent to his phone, obviously reading from the internet. “However, if not taken care of properly, they grow bacteria and can damage sensitive skin.” Head lifted, his attention came to me, and he frowned. “Brother, I’d advise your woman to ditch the loofahs in favor of a good old-fashioned washcloth. If it ain’t broken, no reason to court a bacterial infection in the . . . you know.” He pointed in the general direction of his crotch.
“Who has a bacterial infection?” Cat asked as she walked into the kitchen.
I did a full body scan—hair wet and hanging loose around her shoulders, fresh jeans and tee, no shoes, no blood, all in one piece.
Safe.
She glanced around the table, made her decision, and walked directly to me. I adjusted my chair to get up so she’d have a place to sit, but the woman had other ideas when she plopped her ass in my lap.
That knot loosened, and my chest stopped aching.
“Do you loofah?” Fallon asked.
I had to hand it to the guy. He looked deadly serious for asking such an off-the-wall question.
“Do I loofah, as in, do I use a loofah?”
Fallon nodded. Cat answered, “No.”
“Then you’re bacteria-free.”
I only had Cat in profile but still I saw her gaze go around the table.
“Should I be concerned five men are sitting around talking about shower sponges and vaginosis?”
“What’s vaginosis?” Mason inquired.
Ryan already had his phone at the ready, thus he was quick to answer. “A common vaginal infection that happens when normal bacteria . . .” He trailed off, his lips turned down, and he silently read more before he put his phone on the table. “We weren’t talking about that. I didn’t know there was normal bacteria . . . down there. I could’ve gone my whole life and happily died not knowing.”
