Flash Bang (7 page)

“You good to go?” Graham asked. She responded with only a nod this time, then opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again.

“What?”

“Could you hand me my clothes? I know you said something about laundry, but I’m not going to be here long enough for that.”

And there it was. The stacked and gorgeous woman, whose curves had fired his blood and whose attitude and grit had intrigued him, had no intention of sticking around. Not since his mother had walked out on him at seven years old had Graham allowed himself to get attached to a woman. And he sure as hell wouldn’t start now. Besides, it wasn’t attachment, he reasoned. She was injured, and for all intents and purposes, helpless. And even if she weren’t injured, they could not and would not send her back out into the fray alone. It was just dumb luck that he wanted her. Naked. In his bed. And if she was up for it, between him and Zach. It was just a side benefit of the situation they found themselves in. Might as well make the most of it. Nope, Graham decided, she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

How to explain her new reality without pissing her off to an incredible degree? Probably not possible. So Graham fell back on his standard M.O.—he ignored her question.

He plucked her off the bench, and when she protested, he said, “Worry about it in the morning.”

Ro was still sputtering when Conan shouldered the door to the locker room open and stepped out into the night. He strode across the camp, heading for a narrow building that had a solar light glowing next to the door.

He paused. “Open it, would you?”

Ro complied, grasping and turning the knob. Conan used his foot to push the door open and stepped inside the surprisingly well-lit room containing three sturdy-looking cots covered in crisp white sheets.

This was clearly the infirmary or clinic or whatever they called it. IV poles stood waiting for use next to the cots, and a steel instrument tray was pushed into the corner. Ro tried not to speculate about what kinds of injuries they expected to deal with that merited surgical tools.

A full complement of kitchen cabinets and countertops, complete with deep triple sinks, wrapped around two walls of the room. A closed door was visible in the far right corner. Beau sat in a leather executive chair, his boots propped up on a desk pushed up against the front wall. He put down the book he was reading when they walked in. Wait, was that
World War Z
? Ironic.

Dropping his boots to the floor, Beau appeared to be studying Ro in Conan’s arms. Ro assumed it was out of character for Conan to be carrying women all over hell and back. Which was surprising, given his recent penchant for it.

“Drop her on the cot. I’ll wrap her up and get you an ice pack. Where you putting her tonight?”

Ro was wondering that as well. Although, all she really cared was that there was a bed. Sleeping on the ground this last week, even with her sleeping bag, had sucked. She’d gotten soft over the years. Roughing it for a week without indoor plumbing or an air mattress used to be a regular occurrence in the Callahan family.

Conan sat her down on the cot closest to the door and moved to lean up against the counter, ignoring Beau’s question. Beau rolled the chair to a cupboard and grabbed an ace bandage and rolled over to the cot. He didn’t comment on her borrowed clothes as he surveyed her swollen ankle. An ugly bluish-black bruise had formed, stretching from her heel around to the top of her foot.

“I know you think I’m full of shit, but if you start walking on this too soon, you’re going to do more damage.” Beau said this as though he knew she was going to argue with him.

“How long? Really.”

He studied her ankle. “Hard to know exactly, but you’d be better waiting a week rather than a day.”

“Two days.”

Conan chose that moment to join the conversation. “This isn’t a negotiation. You want to be hurt worse?”

“You can’t tell me that if you or one of your commandos sprained an ankle, you’d have him on bed rest for a week. That’s ridiculous.”

Conan inclined his head. “Fair point. But we’ve got crutches here that fit us and any of my
commandos
would be on desk duty until Beau gave him the all clear. Especially now. In case you haven’t noticed, little girl, everything’s changed, and it’s going to keep changing, and not for the better. You need to get smart … and quick.”

“You condescending
asshole
. You think I don’t know that everything’s changed? While you’ve been hiding here in your little fortress, I’ve been out there,” Ro pointed toward the outside, “and I’ve seen it firsthand. I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. Do you think I don’t realize that? Do you think that maybe I have a damn good reason to be in a hurry to get where I’m going, and that’s why I’m trying to get there as quickly as I can? People are confused right now, and scared, and hoping someone’s coming to save them. It’s not going to be too much longer before everyone gets desperate and violent, and it’ll be survival of the fittest, or survival of the best armed and most ruthless. You better believe I’m going to be tucked away safe when that happens.” She looked toward the wall, not wanting to meet Conan or Beau’s eyes after her speech.

Conan pushed off the counter and stood before her. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. Beau kept wrapping her ankle.

“At least we can agree on one thing: you need to stay safe and in one piece.” His tone was implacable. “You might not agree with my methods, but at least we’ll agree on the result.”

Ro tugged her chin out of his grip and crossed her arms. “Whatever. I’ll stay tonight and regroup in the morning.”

Stubborn woman. That’s what she was. A stubborn ass woman. After Beau had wrapped her ankle and handed her an ice pack, Graham didn’t waste any time scooping her up and carrying her to the cabin he shared with Zach and depositing her on his bed. He could have put her on the couch, or even in Zach’s bed, but the possessive part of him wouldn’t let him put her anywhere but his bed.
Jesus.
If he didn’t rein himself in, he’d be pissing on her like a dog marking his territory. And that wasn’t a kink he understood.

“Please tell me this isn’t your bed.”

“No can do, sweetheart. It’s this or the ground.” Graham felt a twinge of guilt for lying, but it had been a long fucking day, and he wasn’t up for another argument with her. He had three men out in the field, and his dick needed some attention. And he didn’t think he’d be successful in convincing her to take care of it. Though the thought had his cock twitching.

He lit the oil lamp that sat on the nightstand while he waited for her to explode.

“Look, Conan—”

Graham couldn’t help the chuckle that came out. He knew he hadn’t given her his name. He wasn’t big on offering information, let alone personal details. He supposed Conan was marginally better than calling him asshole.

“It’s Graham, not Conan. Graham Buchanan.”

“What, no rank and serial number?”

“Not anymore, sweetheart.” Graham liked her sassy attitude. This one could definitely hold his interest past morning. And she’d certainly already charmed Zach. But Zach was a sucker for all pretty women.

“I thought once a Marine, always a Marine?”

Graham’s gaze snapped to her face. Had he been wrong? Had she really been bait? Fuck. He needed to know once and for all.

He leveled his
don’t you fucking lie to me
stare at her. “I’m going to ask you one time, and you better tell me the whole fucking truth or you won’t be leaving this room … who sent you?”

She met his stare head on. “What are you talking about? No. One. Sent. Me. Are you dense?”

“Then how do you know I served in the Corps?” Graham’s voice had taken on the deadly quiet tone he generally reserved for interrogations. But that didn’t seem to stem her attitude.

“Are you serious? It’s obvious you’re military … or were. Everything from the camo paint to the M4 to sending guys out for fire watch to the way you make your bed! And I didn’t know you were a Marine. It’s just something my dad always says. You know, ‘There are no former Marines?’ So back the fuck off.” Graham could almost feel her grinding her teeth as she said the last words.

He opened his mouth to speak when his radio squawked.

“The boys are coming in fast. They’ve got a fourth. Being carried in by Cam. G-man, you copy?”

Graham grabbed the radio but locked eyes on Rowan when he responded, “Roger that. Male or female?” He’d taken out the earpiece after his accidental soaking and turned up the volume, so she was hearing the report, too.

“Female.”

The word got her attention, and comprehension seemed to dawn. Her mouth dropped open. Speechless. Graham would bet a decent amount of money that it didn’t happen often. He also felt a warm rush of triumph—she wasn’t bait. Which meant that his instincts weren’t going to shit, and even better, she was fair game.

Still staring at her, he replied, “Roger that. I’m on my way.”

He clipped the radio to his belt, looked at Rowan, and did something he rarely did—apologize.

“I’m sorry. I have reasons, but I won’t make excuses. You good to bed down for the night?”

She looked stunned. “Yeah, I’m good. Did you ...” she trailed off. Apparently when she was stunned, she couldn’t form complete sentences. But Graham knew exactly what she was asking.

“Yeah, I did.”

Graham left a speechless Rowan in his cabin and headed toward the command post. Jonah, the only married member of the team, would be waiting for him. Graham looked down at his watch; it was closing in on oh-one-hundred. Jonah had a bed with a warm, willing woman waiting for him, but tonight, so did Graham. Well, she was warm, at least. Willing was a stretch at this point.

Graham made his way to the concrete structure they’d built to house the command post and the armory. It was centrally located and was one of the few buildings that weren’t already on the premises when he’d inherited the ranch from his uncle.

Sure enough, Jonah was standing outside the door waiting for Graham.

“Perfect timing, G. They’re just coming in the west bolt hole.”

“If she’s in the shape I suspect, then she needs to go straight to Beau to get checked out,” Graham replied.

“Already radioed him.”

Three of the men—Alex, Jamie, and Cam—moved soundlessly into the compound. Alex and Jamie broke off and headed toward Graham and Jonah while Cam, woman in arms, headed toward the clinic.

Alex and Jamie were grim-faced when they stopped in front of Graham and Jonah. Graham didn’t speak, just waited for the report. Jamie slung his M4 over his shoulder and pulled a bandana out of his pocket and started to wipe the paint off his face. Alex white-knuckled his rifle. Neither spoke for a long moment, and then Jamie, normally the happy-go-lucky one of the group said, “G, you know we’ve seen some fucked up shit in our day, but I’ve never felt so good about killing someone as I did tonight. I don’t know exactly what they did to that girl, but she’s practically catatonic.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“That all of them?” Graham needed to know if they needed to be ready for someone seeking revenge.

Alex answered, “I don’t think so. There were four trailers. Seems like there should have been more.”