Soldier For Hire (Military Precision Heroes Book 1) Read online

  As much as she hated to entertain the bent of her thoughts, questions that’d sprung up the minute his file had crossed her desk, rose with sharper clarity.

  Xander had been right about one thing—there were details in this case that made no sense.

  But then when did terrorists ever make sense?

  Was she willing to believe that Xander Scott, a highly decorated former army ranger, was capable of killing innocent people to get to one politician?

  A politician who Xander claimed he didn’t know shit about until Red Wolf had been hired as security detail for the rally?

  Xander had been the first to scoff at the detail, saying they weren’t babysitters.

  True, they were a highly skilled, elite force of former military badasses working for a private military company.

  PMCs were making big money right now with the US government hiring out details in the Middle East instead of sending troops to deal with any problems left in the wake of military conflicts.

  The money was good, and it gave retired soldiers a place to feel useful when civilian life wasn’t in the cards for them.

  So yeah, when the detail came across her desk, she’d rolled her eyes in private but she wasn’t the one signing checks so she went where she was told.

  Except Xander had voiced what they’d all felt.

  Playing security guard to a pampered, doughy, left-wing senator trying to get the conservative vote for his re-election campaign was definitely below their pay grade, but Scarlett packed up her team and they went as ordered.

  Now she wished she’d conveniently discovered a schedule conflict for that detail.

  You’re better than this, Rhodes...

  Xander’s voice urged her to dig deeper, to look beyond the flash bomb creating the sound and smoke to find who’d actually thrown the thing in the first place...and why.

  Damn you, Xander.

  Chapter 2

  The thing about knocking boots with someone you aren’t supposed to see naked—say, your boss—the sex was damn electric.

  So electric that it haunted your dreams and left you with a need so aching you’d do anything to make it stop.

  Yeah, so that happened on the regular.

  It wasn’t so bad when he’d been home, in his own bed. But now, on the run, sleeping in a rattrap motel, on sheets that smelled of bad choices and infrequent washings, an erection was damn inconvenient.

  He wasn’t much in the mood for lovin’.

  He closed his eyes but Scarlett was there.

  Naked Scarlett.

  That night had been epic—whether that fell in the good or bad column, he still wasn’t sure—but damn, it sure left behind a scorch mark.

  Basically, they’d been celebrating a successful completion to a complicated detail and they’d all headed down to the local pub to blow off some steam. Usually, Scarlett broke off from the team when it came to slugging back shots—said it looked bad for the TL to get sloppy with the team—but that night, she’d agreed to have a beer with them.

  Maybe she hadn’t liked the idea of celebrating alone, or maybe it’d been something more personal, but when she’d said yes, Xander had been just as surprised as everyone else.

  As it turned out, their TL could hold her liquor pretty damn well and that led to a friendly competition—which then turned into a liver-destroying expedition.

  Ahh, tequila, why are you such a harsh bitch?

  While everyone else tapped out, Xander and Scarlett kept at it.

  Until... Well, suddenly, they were done with shots and they were in Scarlett’s apartment, naked and making even worse choices.

  But, hot damn, those choices had led to some seriously awesome sex.

  Xander pushed at his stubborn erection, irritated by its refusal to calm down.

  He didn’t care how amped up he got—he wasn’t about to jerk off in this disgusting place. A guy had to have his standards.

  As the TL, Scarlett was rigid, by-the-book, hard-ass, hard-nosed, with zero-tolerance for bullshit.

  As a lover, Scarlett was wild, insatiable, dangerous and intoxicating as hell.

  Basically, it’d been like having sex with Scarlett’s black-sheep twin with daddy issues.

  There’d been biting, scratching, howling, grunts, sweat and the smell of raunchy sex.

  Like he’d said—epic.

  Until morning.

  Then things had gotten awkward...fast.

  “I think we can both agree this was a mistake,” Scarlett had said stiffly over her coffee mug, her rumpled hair sexier than anything Xander had ever seen, even if her expression had returned to that of his hard-nosed TL. “You’re welcome to a cup of coffee, but then you’re going to need to go home.”

  Usually, he was the one giving that speech. Felt different being the receiver. “Either the sex was that good...or that bad. Do I want to know where I landed on that scale?”

  “The sex was good.”

  “Just good?”

  “Are you looking for a medal, because I’m fresh out of those.”

  “Too bad, I’m sure a medal for sex would look pretty good against the ones Uncle Sam gave me for meritorious service.” He waited while Scarlett poured coffee into a mug and pushed it across the counter toward him. He grabbed the mug and took an exploratory sip. The hot bracing liquid was black enough to put hair on his chest but he choked it down, not wanting to look like a pussy by asking for cream. “So, out of curiosity...if it was so good, why the one-and-done?”

  “Because I’m your superior and it’s inappropriate. Sex last night was a lapse in judgment and I’d appreciate it if we could keep this private.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he agreed, realizing she was right. Scarlett was a good TL and he didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize her position within Red Wolf. But he wasn’t going to lie, he would’ve been down for a few more rounds. “It’s a shame, though. We are pretty good together. Between the sheets, anyway.”

  That tiny smile she allowed told him she agreed but Scarlett wasn’t one to mess with the rules. Her bones could’ve melted from pleasure but she’d still stick to her guns. Xander respected her attention to detail and the way she held the line but damn, his ego would’ve lapped up the cream if she’d swayed even the slightest in his direction.

  Xander shook off the memory as a yawn cracked his jaw. She wouldn’t stop chasing him. He’d have to keep watching over his shoulder while trying to figure out who the hell wanted him to take the fall for the bomb.

  Scarlett would only be out of commission for a few days. He had to go underground if he was going to shake her off his tail.

  A part of him wished she would’ve listened to him. It would’ve been nice to have her on his side. It also would’ve felt good knowing that she believed him. He supposed that was immaterial but it meant something just the same.

  Xander wasn’t a sap, hated mush and generally thought feelings were as tolerable as a case of hives.

  His addiction to The Bachelor didn’t mean he secretly pined for love. Hell, no. He watched The Bachelor because he knew that love was bullshit and secretly he was always hoping for them all to fail.

  Yeah, he was an asshole, but at least he was honest.

  He liked that about Scarlett, too.

  Her blunt honesty was refreshing. Even though she’d tossed him out of her apartment, he’d respected her straightforward approach. No posturing, no dancing around feelings—just straight up truth.

  We can’t keep screwing each other because I could lose my job.

  Couldn’t get plainer than that.

  And now she was chasing him like a fox after a rabbit.

  Was he a little bit messed up in the head that he found that sexy?

  Of course he was.

  Xander sighed, mildly surprised when he found himself still rock hard
. For crying out loud, he wasn’t going to get any sleep like this.

  Curling his hand around his shaft, he closed his eyes and gave into the memory that never failed to do the trick.

  It was just so he could get some sleep, he told himself.

  Not because he missed her or anything.

  * * *

  Scarlett was released from the hospital and she returned to headquarters where she found her core team.

  Zak Ramsey, CJ Lawry and Laird Holstein were playing poker when Scarlett walked into the room. “Glad to see you’ve kept yourself busy,” she said. “We’ve lost valuable time. We need to find a way to get back on track.”

  When no one readily agreed, she could feel what was coming, mostly because she was dealing with the same questions as everyone else.

  “Look, I get it,” she said, addressing the elephant in the room. “Xander is one of our own. We are a tight group, but the facts are clear—he broke the law—”

  “Allegedly,” CJ cut in with a shrug. “I mean, innocent until proven guilty, right?”

  “Of course, but that’s for the courts to decide, not us. Here’s the deal—either we bring him in or the FBI does. The only reason they’re letting us handle this is because we’ve assured them we can get the job done on the DL. That’s what we do. We get shit done. This job is no different.”

  “It’s plenty different,” Laird disagreed, tossing his cards, folding. “Look, something ain’t right about this deal. You know it, we know it, and we’re just supposed to toe the line against one of our own? A man who’d give his life for any one of us in this room, including you, TL?”

  “That was before,” Scarlett said sharply. “Things are different.”

  “It’s bullshit,” CJ said, tossing his cards, too. “It’s a goddamn frame job. There’s no way in hell Xander did what they’re saying he did.”

  Scarlett felt the rising tide of animosity and she didn’t blame them. They weren’t pissed at her, just the situation. But what the hell was she supposed to do? Break the law for the sake of a man who may or may not be guilty?

  “As much as I hate to do this, we all know that Xander’s got demons. How are we supposed to know whether or not those demons got the better of him?”

  “We all got demons,” CJ returned, casting Scarlett a flat stare, daring her to go down that road. She knew they were all damaged goods in some way or another. “I ain’t saying that Xander wouldn’t consider taking out a politician if the wind conditions were right but he’d never take down civilians. That shit ain’t right.” CJ rose and grabbed his jacket. “If we’re done here, so am I.”

  Scarlett let him go. CJ had a temper. She didn’t need him going off over something as stupid as this. Emotions were running high in the room, the tension thick enough to slice through. She needed time to think and her head hurt. If she pressed her team right now, they’d push back and that would get them nowhere fast. “We’ll reconvene at 0700 hours tomorrow,” she said. “Don’t let your emotions call the shots. I don’t have time to deal with any of you hotheads getting into trouble.”

  Scarlett watched as her team filed out and as soon as they were gone, she swallowed a few Excedrin for the excruciating pain in her head.

  Maybe she ought to be thankful for the drum beating her brain. Seemed pain was the only thing keeping other thoughts at bay. She talked a good game but the truth was, Xander had gotten under her skin.

  Had been since that night.

  She hated the clichéd “there’s just something about him” but damn, if it wasn’t appropriate for what she couldn’t quite explain about her attraction to Xander.

  The energy between them snapped and crackled like a downed power line, whipping about, wreaking havoc and mayhem with its promise of destruction.

  Destruction was an apt description for what would happen if word of Xander and Scarlett’s indiscretion got out.

  It wasn’t like her to lose her grip like that.

  But Xander, goddamn, that man was unlike any she’d ever come across.

  Oh, she’d known it, too. The minute their eyes had met, there’d been a powerful zap at the base of her spine and that electrical current had traveled the length of her body like a bullet train straight to no-man’s-land.

  The tequila had just been a convenient excuse to do what she’d wanted to do from the beginning—bang the ever-lovin’ shit out of that hard, chiseled, scarred and beautiful body.

  Eyes closed, it was easy to remember every moment of that night.

  Scarlett groaned at her own weakness, grinding at the pain behind her eyeballs. It would take a week to be back to 100 percent but she didn’t have that kind of time to waste.

  She grabbed her laptop, logged into the encrypted Red Wolf interface and pulled Xander’s file. She knew it by heart, but she went over it again just to be sure she wasn’t missing anything.

  Her gaze skimmed the basic blotter information: name, highest active rank, MOS, commendations, etc.

  The psych evals were her favorite—to sum up: the guy had issues, but who didn’t in their line of work? Scarlett didn’t hold that kind of stuff against her team members. She judged them based on their performance, their skills and their ability to walk unflinching into a shit storm.

  Xander was the best of all of them when it came to looking danger straight in the eye and laughing.

  From the outside looking in, one might say Xander was bat-shit crazy.

  But Scarlett understood Xander on a different level than most. She recognized that need for danger that flowed through Xander’s veins, that hunger to face death and win.

  It wasn’t hero-syndrome. It was something far darker.

  It was the need to feel worthy of being alive.

  Each successful mission appeased that insatiable desire for redemption, even though they all lived with the knowledge that redemption wasn’t in the cards for most.

  They’d all done things in the service of their country that had left scars, nightmares and broken off a piece of their souls.

  But hey, that was the job.

  And they accepted it.

  Scarlett closed the laptop, knowing she wasn’t going to find the answer there. In spite of her gut instinct telling her to screw the evidence, she had to trust the process. If Xander was innocent of the charges, the courts would exonerate him.

  It wasn’t her job to prove his innocence.

  It was her job to bring him in—and that’s exactly what she was going to do.

  Chapter 3

  Xander kinda wished he could call up his buddy Zak and rub it in his face that a certain level of mistrust in banking institutions had worked out in his favor.

  When you were on the run, cash was king. Seeing as Xander had kept his money in weird little stashes around his apartment, when he’d made the decision to cut out and run before Scarlett could bring him in, being able to stuff his bag with cash had been a plus.

  It wasn’t like he could’ve waltzed up to an ATM to pull out his money because then his face would’ve shown up on the Big Brother spy network. And yeah, if people didn’t believe that all their shit was on display in some techno-nerd’s deep web, they were naive.

  And the government was the biggest techno-nerd around.

  But Xander was prepared. He had a wad of cash, a burner phone and a laptop with the latest encryption software that zing-zanged around the globe for IP addresses so if he needed to nose around for intel, he could do so without risking a trip to the city library to use their public terminals.

  Still, being on the run wasn’t chill.

  It sucked.

  Not to be a wimp about it, but he missed his bed. Too many tours on the ground had turned him into a crotchety old man when he didn’t get a good night’s sleep on his expensive Tempur-Pedic.

  He chuckled, hearing in his head how the team would’ve busted his b
alls for being such a baby. God, he missed those guys already.

  He’d give his life for any of them. Even Scarlett.

  Irony, right?

  Xander wasn’t going to hold it against them that they were following orders. Although, he kinda wished they’d given him more of the benefit but that was selfish, and it went against their ingrained training. Soldiers followed rules or people died.

  He wanted to shake some sense into Scarlett so she’d recognize that Red Wolf was being used to do someone else’s dirty work.

  But until he could show her that he was right, she was going to chase him down. Simple as that.

  The neon light of the dive bar beneath the seedy motel gave the room a reddish glow, appropriate for the rattrap but it served his purposes.

  The place reminded him of a roach motel he’d crashed in once in a while in DC. At the time he’d found the parallel between the place where self-important men made decisions that affected everyone, except themselves, was a seething cesspit of political bullshit where people smiled right before they plunged the knife in their so-called allies’ backs and the shitty motel amusing. Xander couldn’t take the hypocrisy any longer, which was why he’d gotten out of the Rangers, but found, like most Red Wolf team members, there just wasn’t a place for guys like him in society.

  Red Wolf had been his sanctuary, his lifeline.

  Once again, he’d found purpose. And, not gonna lie, the pay was pretty sweet, too. But then the private sector had always been superior on the pay scale in comparison to government work.

  Unless you were so far up the chain you could sniff what Uncle Sam had for dinner the night before. Xander had known that he’d never be cut out for that kind of work, so getting out and doing merc work with a private company would’ve been his only option.

  Until Red Wolf had approached him.

  Yeah, Red Wolf wasn’t a place that advertised on Craigslist for job opportunities. No, they sought out their targets carefully and then made a surgical strike, quietly and efficiently.