Chapter Eighteen

After a few hours of the best sleep she’d ever had, curled safe in Striker’s arms, Friday sat impatiently while everyone argued about her. Doc wanted to sedate her before they made their way through the red mist to the EMP barrier. Apparently, the consensus was that she was likely to throw herself into the mist again. She scoffed at the thought, now that she knew it didn’t affect Striker, she was hardly going to save him from it. A fact she’d told his team. Unfortunately, they weren’t listening to logic, and she’d resigned herself to waiting for them to talk themselves out.

She was bored. She wanted to get going. She didn’t want to die. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Of course she didn’t want to die. Did anyone?

“You don’t know what effect a sedative would have on the poison she took,” Striker shouted, even though she’d told them twice now that it would have no effect at all. Seemed no one was interested in listening to the expert in the room, so she let them carry on wasting their time—for now. “We can’t take any chance of reducing the time we’ve got left to get to La Paz.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Doc shouted back. “If she touches the mist again, you’re gonna lose another damn day dealing with the repercussions.”

“I won’t touch the mist,” Friday said again, and was ignored—again.

It was clear she didn’t actually have to be present for the argument. She wondered if they would mind if she went to the lab and read through Doc’s research. There was a lot of it, and she was eager to get started. The team fascinated her. Especially Striker. She shivered at the thought of his late-night kisses and the promises he’d made to drive her crazy with his touch. She couldn’t wait.

“We can’t take any chances with her,” Striker’s angry words snapped her back to the useless argument they were all set on having.

His shoulders rippled, and she could have sworn the diamondback looked straight at her. She leaned closer to stare at the thing. Did it move? Maybe it was just the tensing of Striker’s muscles while he waved his arms around. The man gestured when he was angry. Great big over-the-top gestures. Strangely, she found it more amusing than threatening.

“We’ll get through the red a lot quicker if she’s out cold,” Mace said. “She isn’t exactly up to the team’s standard of fitness. It will go faster if we knock her out and carry her.”

She frowned at the huge man. That was insulting. She might not be able to run as fast as Mace, but she was a normal-size human being, not a freakishly large man with a tiny brain.

She tuned them out. She got the impression that they were more interested in venting tension than actually winning the argument. But she was so bored. She even wished she had the diamondback to keep her company. She’d love to get a closer look at the patterns on the snake. They were so pretty. She even liked how it felt to hold him. Was it a he or she? She should really ask Striker. When he wasn’t shouting.

“Hey,” she whispered to his living tattoo, entertaining herself, “come play with me.”

Her jaw dropped when the head of the snake moved, and the body wriggled.

“What the hell?” Striker shouted.

The next thing she knew, the diamondback popped off his skin and was slithering across the floor of the main cavern toward her seat. The sudden silence was oppressive. Everybody in the room gawked as the snake made its way up her leg to curl in her lap. It butted her hand to make her pet it, which she did, turning red under the shocked stares of the team at the same time.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was bored and thought I’d hang out with the snake. Carry on shouting. Don’t mind us.”

“Did she just…?” Mace pointed at her.

“What?” She petted the animal in her lap as it snuggled into her. She probably should have felt like prey, but mainly she felt comforted.

“Bébé, you called my snake off my body.” Striker’s voice was soft as he took a step toward her. His arms were folded over his sleeveless shirt, making those distracting shoulders bulge.

“I’m sorry?” It was clear from the reactions that she’d done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to. I just asked him if he wanted to come play, and he did.”

The men shared uneasy looks. Striker crouched down in front of her and put his hands on her knees.

“You don’t understand. You shouldn’t have been able to communicate with the snake, let alone call it to you and have it obey.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the reptile. “This has never happened before?”

“No.” His hands flexed on her knees. “We’ve tried calling each other’s animals, and we’ve tried communicating with them, too, but we can’t.”

“Then why did it come to me?” And why did that make her feel warm inside, like she was special? Her cheeks flushed at the childish thought. She needed to put her brain to good use. This was about analyzing the unusual behavior of the snake, not feeling smug because she managed to do something the men hadn’t.

“Guess the man and the snake are both fascinated by you, chère.”

That made her cheeks burn hotter.

“Maybe she’s a snake whisperer, like Gray said.” Mace came to stand beside them. “Some people have an affinity for animals. We should get her to try calling someone else’s. See if it works with them.”

“And while you’re at it”—Friday frowned up at him—“maybe you can also stop talking about her as though she wasn’t sitting right here.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Mace said. “You know that, right?”

She considered the reptile snuggling in her lap. “I wonder if he’d bite you if I asked him nicely.”

That caused laughter. Even Mace managed a smile. Wonder of wonders, the man didn’t die from the effort.

“She can call to my animal.” Gray, who was drinking coffee at the table on the other side of the room, stood. He put his mug down and sauntered toward them.

“You sure, Gray? It means she knows about you.” Mace looked down at her. She couldn’t read his expression. “She could still be captured by Enforcement. You have to assume that anything she knows is something they could know, too.” He gave Striker a pointed look. “Which is why I suggested keeping the show-and-tell until after La Paz.”

“I don’t care about Enforcement.” Gray stood beside them and tugged his T-shirt off. He was just as muscled as the rest of the men, but he was nowhere near as gorgeous as Striker.

She caught Striker glaring at her for studying Gray’s chest.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “You’re prettier.”

He choked at her words, and the team snickered.

“Seriously,” Mace said to Gray. “Think about this.”

“I told you. Let Enforcement come. I’ll be ready.” The cold look Gray’s face made Friday think there wasn’t a whole lot he cared about, least of all his own life.

She felt a surge of excitement as he turned to show her his back. She wanted to see all of their animals. She wanted to study the team, and their partner creatures, until she had all the answers they needed. She gasped as his tattoo came into view. It was a glorious wolf curled across his back as though sleeping.

“Call to it,” Gray ordered.

She frowned at him. She didn’t like taking orders. She also didn’t like the pressure of performing while everyone watched her.

“Just try, bébé.” Striker caressed her cheek, making her melt.

She took a deep breath and looked at the wolf. “Hey, you,” she whispered at it, making the diamondback raise its head to see what she was doing. “Want to come play with me?”

The reptile in her lap head-butted her hand as though jealous, but the wolf didn’t move.

“Again,” Striker encouraged.

“Can I touch it? It might help. We’ve never met, so it might not listen to me.”

His mouth tightened. He didn’t like that suggestion at all, but he nodded tersely.

“It’s okay with me.” Gray’s voice was devoid of emotion.

Gingerly, she reached out to trace the curve of the wolf. The detail was amazing. She almost expected to touch fur. Instead, all she felt was the warm skin of a strange man.

“Hey, wolfie, want to come play with me?” she whispered again, making the diamondback hiss its annoyance. But the wolf didn’t react.

“Nothing.” Striker sounded almost relieved.

Gray shrugged back into his shirt. “Maybe she can only call to reptiles.”

Striker studied her. “Or maybe, she can only call to my animal. That’s what the damn snake is telling me, anyway.”

Eyes widened. Mace let out a whistle.

“It’s actually talking now?”

“Short sentences.” Striker smiled ruefully. “It just told me I was an idiot, and that Friday is special.”

That made everyone stare at her again. She held up her hands as though surrendering. “Trust me, the diamondback is wrong. There’s nothing special about me at all. I am one hundred percent ordinary. Ask Striker.”

His eyes warmed as he smiled at her. “I wouldn’t call you ordinary, chère.”

“Guess this is something we’ll have to look into once you two get back from Bolivia,” Doc said.

Friday glanced up at the hole in the ceiling. The red mist had lightened. “Can we go now?”

Striker let out a sigh. “Yeah.”

“Great.” She stood with the diamondback curled round her shoulders. “I’m going to assume that I’ll be awake for the trip to the Coalition border and start putting the barrier cream on.” She strode toward the tunnel that led to Striker’s room. He’d brought a tub of cream and a new suit for her that morning.

“Friday?” he called out after her. “You forgetting something?”

She looked back at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you to do my back before I put the suit on.”

His smile was devastating. “Can I have my snake back, bébé?”

Her cheeks burned. “Sorry. Go home now,” she told the diamondback.

It hissed as though grumbling at her, but slid off her body and headed to his other half.

“I’ll be damned,” Mace said, and Friday realized she’d ordered the reptile around again.

“Don’t blame me,” she told them. “Blame the snake!”

With everyone staring at her, she hurried toward the bedroom. It was time to get out of the Red Zone and see if she had a future ahead of her.

…

Friday lasted almost an hour in the red mist before the questions started. Striker was impressed. He figured she must have been bursting to talk for at least fifty minutes of that hour.

“Does the mist have any effect on you at all?”

“Nope.” He walked behind her, closely behind her, to keep an eye on every move she made.

Mace was in front of Friday, the hope being that if they kept the woman between them, she would be less likely to touch the mist. Their first priority was to guard Friday, which was why they hadn’t bothered with the pretense of wearing protective suits. Without the suits, they could maneuver more easily and react faster if she needed saving again. Which he didn’t want to even think about.

“Do you stick to the paths through the mist when you don’t have other people with you?” Her voice had a strange echo, coming at his earpiece through the comm unit in her helmet.

“We stick to the paths. We’re not sure what long-term effect going into the mist might have on us, if any. We’ve already had enough exposure to it. That’s why we need a scientist. We have lots of unanswered questions.”

“How did you find out your saliva combatted the mist?”

He smiled. He’d bet her brain was bursting with questions.

“Less talk,” Mace snapped, “more concentration. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re walking through Death Valley here, and you’re the only one that can be killed.”

“What’s your animal?” She sounded irritated. It didn’t look like Friday and Mace were gonna braid each other’s hair anytime soon.

“None of your business. You survive and get a security implant, then we’ll talk.”

“It’s a bear, right? A grumpy, antisocial bear. Tell me I’m right.”

Mace growled, kind of proving her point, making Striker smother a laugh.

“Were you this huge before you woke up?”

Friday was undeterred by Mace’s attitude. Striker wasn’t sure if that made her brave or reckless. There weren’t many people who’d confront the big man when he was annoyed.

“Woman, stop talking,” Mace ordered.

“Of course. I’ll get right on that.” She sounded amused. “But first, did you wake up this size or were you this size beforehand? I’m wondering if you’ve taken on the bulk of a bear.”

Her only answer was a deep, irritated growl.

“Striker,” she changed tactic, pulling him into the mix. “Is his animal a bear? It is, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sayin’, chère.”

“A coyote, then. A real bad tempered one. Oh, an alligator! Is it an alligator? They’re antisocial, too.”

“Are you sure she’s worth it?” Mace said. “Maybe we should just toss her in the mist and cut our losses.”

“Is Sandi really your sister?” Friday changed the topic fast enough to make a man’s head spin. “You don’t look alike. And I didn’t think women were allowed in the special forces a hundred years ago.”

“She was among the first wave of female Army Rangers,” Striker said.

“She had to be tougher than the men to get through.” Mace sounded proud of his foster sister, in a gruff kind of way.

“You were Army Rangers?” She glanced back, and he grasped her hips.

“Eyes front. Concentrate. If you can’t do that while talking, you need to be silent. This is no game, chère. I will knock you out if you look back at me one more time. Hear me?”

“Yes, Striker.”

Her soft words sent shivers down his spine. If they’d been alone, he would have been on her faster than a cat in heat.

“Keep it in your pants, dude,” his best friend muttered. “Case you didn’t notice, this ain’t the place to get horny.”

“Horny?” Friday said. “I missed something. Did I black out again?”

“No, bébé, he’s is just being an ass.”

“A perceptive ass,” Mace muttered.

“You act like brothers.” She sounded awed.

“We are brothers. We’re family.” And Striker would die for each and every one of them.

“We’re the only family we got left.” Mace reminded her.

The silence was suddenly heavy. Striker fought the memories that were brutally fresh. His parents, grandparents, sisters, cousins—all gone. They’d been gone for decades, but for him, it had only been three short years.

“I’m sorry.” Friday’s soft voice filled the silence. “I didn’t think. It must have been terrible to wake up and find your families had been gone for such a long time.”

They didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. Striker wondered what was worse, that his family had mourned him as dead while he slept, or that he woke up to find them all gone. He hadn’t even dared to research who was left, what descendants might still be around in the bayou. None of the team had gone looking for relatives. It was something they’d all agreed on when they woke. It was too dangerous for them to call attention to themselves and their families by digging into their pasts.

“Oh my,” she whispered. “I never thought. Some of you must have been married, had children. Striker?” Her voice trembled as she asked.

His first instinct was to comfort. “Not me, bébé. I was single. I lost family, but not that, no kids.” He paused. “You might want to keep your curiosity about our pasts to yourself where family’s concerned. Some of the guys did lose partners and kids. It’s hard on them.”

“Of course; I’m so sorry.”

They all were. Sorry didn’t change a damn thing. They walked on in silence for a while longer, trying not to become distracted by the oppressive presence of the never-changing red mist.

“How do you map the Red Zone? You can’t use satellite imagery, and there are no landmarks to keep you from getting disorientated.” Friday’s curiosity couldn’t be subdued for long.

“We use drones to check the passages and to bring back changes in data,” he said.

“Of course.”

He watched her head bob, moving that huge protective helmet. “That means you must have people on the team who are good with the current technology, unlike Mace. It must have been a huge learning curve for you when you woke up.”

Mace growled again, and Striker grinned.

“Is your animal a wild dog? You definitely growl a lot.”

“Only around you,” the big guy grumbled.

Friday looked back at him. “Is it an armadillo?”

His hands shot out to clutch her hips and stop her from backing into the mist.

“Wait up,” he called to his partner.

When he looked through the glass shield in Friday’s helmet, she was biting her bottom lip. “I won’t do it again. I promise I’ll be more careful and keep my eyes front. Honest, it won’t happen again.” She batted those big blue eyes at him.

It wasn’t going to work. Not this time. Not when her life was on the line. He already had the pressure injector in his hand, ready for this moment, because he knew it would come.

“I know it won’t.” Moving too fast for her to stop him, he flipped the lock on her helmet, lifted it, and pressed the injector to her neck. “Mace. Catch.”

The big man was behind her in an instant.

“No!” she shouted before her eyes rolled back and her body went limp.

It took seconds to secure her over Striker’s shoulders, her arms tied to his waist to stop them from waving around.

“She’s going to be pissed when she wakes.” Mace walked behind them to ensure no part of her body entered the mist. “She just doesn’t stop, does she?”

“Nope.” He shifted her weight, holding her tight with one arm clamped around the back of her thighs and the other hand on her rear. She wasn’t heavy, and he’d be able to carry her all the way out of the mist. For some reason that calmed him. The thought of letting anyone else hold her made him want to roar his displeasure.

“Never seen someone behave like that in the mist before. Normally people are terrified to touch the damn stuff and struck dumb because they’re concentrating on staying alive. Not Friday. She’s too busy asking dumbass questions.”

Her questions weren’t dumb, they were just…plentiful. “I’m telling the team she thinks your animal is an armadillo.”

“Asshole.”

Content to have a quiet Friday in his arms, Striker kept his focus on getting her out of the red zone in one piece.