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Security waved Deacon and Fionn through after a quick swipe of their IDs and fingerprint scans. One thing about Global First—they never took security for granted. Deacon led the way through the entry and down the long hall toward the medical wing where Trapper was being treated.
“What did Sheppard say about surveillance?” he asked Fionn as they walked, nodding to staff members along the way.
“We’ll be swinging by her office on our way out,” Fionn said.
Deacon hid his grin. Fionn showing up in her Bat Cave, as they called it, should make Sheppard’s day. How his friend could be oblivious to the girl’s interest in him, Deacon didn’t understand. Not that she was Fionn’s type. Young, on the geeky side, with a keen mind for electronics and all things computer related but shy and nervous around people, especially the infamous ladies’ man, Fionn McCullough. Sheppard’s tongue tripped over itself whenever Fionn was near, adding to the impression of a socially awkward nerd. Personally Deacon thought she was adorable. Too many women fawned all over his friend, a situation Fionn took full advantage of. Their resident geek didn’t wear makeup or sophisticated clothes—more like glasses and her hair up in a messy ponytail. She was just her normal shy self, whether she had a thing for Fionn or not. Take her or leave her, she was who she was. Deacon admired that, even if it didn’t earn her the notice of his man-whore friend.
All thoughts of Fionn’s tangled love life fled as they approached the swinging double doors leading to the medical suite. GFS kept a mini hospital on the grounds, both for their personnel and for any clients that required medical attention during their contract. Regular hospitals were a security nightmare. Besides, GFS’s clients were more than willing to shell out the cost for personal, secure care at a guarded facility. Trapper had been flown here after his initial treatment, and GFS had brought in every specialist they could to help heal the damage done by Mansa’s hit man. Unfortunately some things couldn’t be fixed; when a man lost the ability to do his job, more than his body ended up broken. When he lost his long-time partner and best friend, like Trapper had Inez, broken wasn’t really the word for what it did to a man.
Necessity had Deacon behind a desk for now, but eventually he would be able to go back to active duty; Trapper would not.
Coming to a stop outside Trapper’s door, Deacon glanced at Fionn, sharing a long look as they braced themselves for what waited on the other side. Soaking up strength. After a deep breath, Deacon rapped his knuckles on the door.
“Come in.”
Trapper’s voice had always been rough, but the damage his attacker had inflicted on his vocal cords made it even rougher. Today it was downright guttural. When they entered, Deacon saw why. The company physical therapist, Edward Cho, stood over Trapper, placing stim pads along their friend’s scarred and mangled upper body. “You gentlemen arrived just in time. We’ve finished our daily torture session, and our friend here is ready for a relaxing electrical massage.”
“Would be better if we had a masseuse,” Trapper muttered.
“Certainly easier on the eyes,” Fionn agreed with a grin.
One side of Trapper’s mouth lifted slightly. “The parts of me that still work would appreciate it.”
Progress. Until the last month, their visits had found Trapper close to monosyllabic, uninterested in the world around him, often lost in a haze of pain. Though the pain was still there, a faint shadow in his dark gray eyes, any effort at interaction was a step in the right direction. When Deacon met Cho’s gaze and received a small nod, the tightness that had constricted his breathing since he’d entered the building eased the slightest bit.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cho was telling his patient as he laid several weighted heating pads over Trapper’s skin. As the electrostim began and the warmth seeped into what must be tired muscles, Deacon watched the whiteness around Trapper’s mouth ease. From personal experience with PT, he knew what a relief the post-session ritual could be. Cho wasn’t sadistic, but he’d never been easy on any of the men. Extending the range of Trapper’s damaged muscles was more important than comfort, Deacon knew.
When Cho had his patient settled, he set a timer on his watch. “Since you’ve got company, I’ll be back in ten to free you,” he told Trapper with a grin.
“Don’t forget me this time.”
The words, half teasing and half something dark and fearful, twisted Deacon’s gut. Cho’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit, but his answer was playful. “I’ll try not to.” With a wave to Deacon and Fionn, he was out the door, leaving the men alone.
“You look better,” Deacon said after the door had clicked closed. He wasn’t lying either.
Trapper grunted. “Hard not to when you started out looking as fucked up as I did.”
“And now you’re only half fecked up.” Fionn chuckled as he lowered his big body into the chair beside Trapper’s bed. “By the time you’re down to a quarter, we’ll be considering you back to normal.”
“Speak for yourself, pecker face.”
Deacon laughed along with them, watching carefully to be certain no more than a grimace of pain flashed over Trapper’s face.
Silence settled for a moment, but it wasn’t strained. They’d spent more time together silent than they had talking over the years, the state natural for them. If anything it was the weight of their missing team members that pushed them to fill the emptiness in the room. Trapper spoke first.
“You get in touch with JCL?”
“I did.” Deacon brought his teammate up to speed. “Sydney is under careful watch. Quinn’s employees know what they’re doing, Trap. They’ll help us keep her safe.”
“It helps that they’ve got a woman on their team,” Fionn added slyly. Deacon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“A woman? You’re letting a woman guard our girl?”
As much as his team’s concern for Sydney warmed his heart, Deacon had no illusions. Trapper was tough, old-school; women were smaller, weaker, less capable. A woman wasn’t good enough for Sydney in his eyes.
But Fionn was already laughing. “Sure as shit we are. This woman isn’t feckin’ around either.”
Ignoring the glowering look Deacon leveled on him, Fionn embarked on the tale of Elliot’s surprise attack at their first meeting. The bastard didn’t leave out a single detail.
“She kicked his arse—literally, at the end. I’m telling you, there’s nothing like seeing a tiny woman plant her boot in Deac’s backside and shove him across the room.”
“You didn’t see it either,” Deacon reminded his friend.
“I’m imagining it, though—Saint described the scene in detail.”
Great.
Trapper’s skeptical gaze landed on Deacon, who shrugged. What could he say? He certainly wasn’t going to tell them why Elliot had gotten the jump on him.
“She surprised you?” Trapper asked.
Well... “Yeah.”
Fionn snorted. “More like he was surprised by what the little spitfire’s tight jumper sho—”
“Fionn.”
At Deacon’s growled warning, his friend subsided into a chuckle. Even Trap gave a faint, rusty laugh. “Well, that explains it.”
Deacon shifted against the wall, trying to ignore the effect that memory had on his cock. Thank fuck his fatigues weren’t snug, though if he didn’t get himself under control soon...
“It’s not all one-sided, though. That tough little wan isn’t striking me as one who gets flustered very often, but around Deac? She can barely talk—unless she’s defying him, that is.”
Funny that Fionn could see Elliot’s interest so clearly but was completely oblivious to Sheppard’s attraction to him. If Deacon wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d point that out, if only to push the topic away from his own...curiosity...where Elliot was concerned. Instead he clamped his mouth shut and let his closed expression speak for him.
Trapper eyed Deacon speculatively across the room. “Is that so?”
“Course it is.” Fionn seemed to take offense at anyone questioning his intuition when it came to the opposite sex. “Not that she’s flaunting it. Elliot Smith’s a professional through and through, despite her tendency to defy Deac.”
“There’s only one way to deal with defiance,” Trapper said. “Bring it to heel ASAP.”
“Amen.” Fionn crossed his arms over his chest as he tilted his chair back on two legs. “Be using the best tools you got. Sex is my top choice.”
“And the fastest choice,” Trap added.
“I’m not going to seduce a team member just so I can keep her under my thumb.” Although the idea did have merit. Kill two birds with one stone.
No, he couldn’t—
Trapper grunted. “Believe me, Deac,”—he lifted one wrapped arm about six inches off the bed before grimacing and lowering it back to the sheet—“these men have no qualms using women, men, children, anything they can, and they won’t hold back or show common decency when they do. You’ve got to be on your toes, and you’ve got to have a team you can trust a hundred percent to follow your orders without question. Without hesitation.”
Deacon tightened his lips against his agreement. Just because their enemy acted a certain way didn’t change his own ethics.
Except, if he was honest, he needed something to counter the willfulness that seemed to rise in Elliot whenever he was around. He’d already acknowledged it; he simply hadn’t come up with a plan. Could his conscience accept using sex to get a member of what was essentially his own team, however temporary, to obey?
There was only one way to get Fionn off the subject of sex, and when Cho entered the room, Deacon took it. “We need to have a chat with Sheppard real quick. Why don’t we let you get settled and come back in a few?”
Sheppard’s office was in the next building over. When they arrived in the Bat Cave, it was to find her staring intently at one of five screens, her eyes tracking code faster than Deacon could read The Cat in the Hat to Sydney. “Hey.”
Sheppard spun around, jerking the cord for her headset from its plug. Pounding hard rock flooded the office. Sheppard’s blush hit about the time her gaze landed on Fionn standing at Deacon’s back. “Oh, hi.” She cleared her throat.
The words were drowned out by the music. Sheppard wavered, her hands doing this funny little dance as if she couldn’t decide whether to usher the two of them into her office or turn down the god-awful noise. Finally she reached for the mouse on her desk. With a couple of clicks, the sledgehammer beat cut off.
“What’s the story, Bat Girl?” Fionn asked in the same teasing tone he used with every woman he’d ever encountered. The memory of that tone being used on Elliot had Deacon gritting his teeth.
The pleasure in Sheppard’s eyes dimmed. “Not much, Fionn.” She turned back to the screen, closed the program she was working on, then faced them again. “I suppose you want to talk about Trapper.”
“We do.” Trapper was a loose end, and if Mansa decided to clip him, they needed to be ready. Few would have the balls to bring the fight to GFS’s compound, but Mansa was definitely one of the few.
The girl nodded toward a screen on her left. “Here’s what we have set up.”
For the next few minutes they talked security. GFS owned a three-hundred acre complex situated between Atlanta and the northwest corner of the state. They were guarded both by woods and hills shrouding the location, and the best in security and personnel. Sheppard walked them through the details of the extra security they’d implemented, answering questions and showing them reports. Deacon didn’t miss that the sidelong glances she threw Fionn’s way went completely unnoticed.
When he was satisfied with the setup, he asked about the surveillance on his home. He had his own security system, but everything from door sensors to camera feeds were being monitored by GFS as well. They couldn’t have too much backup when it came to Sydney’s safety.
“Everything’s in place, sir.” Sheppard switched monitors and clicked through the items like she had a checklist in her head, which he wouldn’t doubt. She might be young, but he’d known her several years, and she never missed anything. The girl’s mind was a steel trap.
“Anything further on Mansa’s movements here in the US?” he asked.
“Nothing.” The tightness in her voice said she didn’t like the answer any more than Deacon did. “He’s totally off grid. Believe me; if there was anything to find, I would’ve found it. Mansa knows how to stay hidden.”
“Maybe because the man barely left his tropical island for twenty past years,” Fionn bitched.
“That we know of, anyway.” Straightening up to stretch his cramped back muscles, he sighed. “So we’re basically still at square one.”
“You’re at the most defensible square,” Sheppard reminded him, her soft voice determined, no longer hesitant. “He has to come to you; that was the plan, and it’s still the best one.”
She wasn’t telling them anything they didn’t already know. “I need you to do some digging on a local named Gary Lawrence.”
Sheppard flipped a switch on a speaker near her keyboard, then said, “Tell me what all you need.”
As he spoke, the device Sheppard had activated dictated his words onto the nearest computer screen. Fionn whistled. “That’s nifty.”
“I do like my toys,” Sheppard said absently, clicking the mouse. And then her words seemed to register in her mind, because a dark red stain worked its way up her neck to her cheeks. Fionn grinned.
“Uh...o-okay.” Another click. “I’ll get this to you in a couple of hours, sir.”
“Deacon, Sheppard. His name is Deacon.” But Fionn was the one insisting; Deacon and Sheppard ignored him. Deacon had given up trying to get the girl to call him by his name a couple of years ago. Come to think of it, he had no idea what her first name was; he’d never heard her referred to as anything but Sheppard.
He gave the desk a light rap and turned to go. “Let me know what you find. And thanks.”
“Anytime.” She was answering him, but Deacon had no doubt the girl’s eyes were on Fionn’s broad back as they walked out of her office.
“When are you going to put her out of her misery, Irish?” Deacon asked as they walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall.
“Who?”
“Duh! Sheppard, maybe? She’s only been drooling over you since you met three years ago.”
Fionn reached for the Down button, a grimace twisting his lips. “I don’t do teenagers.”
That shocked a laugh out of Deacon. “She’s twenty-four, not fourteen.” He remembered because he’d walked into her office a few months ago and found the girl reading one of those musical greeting cards. He’d caught the theme music from Star Wars before she’d slammed the card closed and hidden it, but he’d managed to wrangle the fact that it was her birthday out of her.
Still, he couldn’t deny that no matter how old she was, he’d always thought of her as girl. Maybe Fionn had a point.
“I don’t think I’m the one to be worrying about a wan right now, do you?” Fionn asked.
The elevator doors slid shut. “What are you talking about?”
“Go on outta that,” he said before Deacon could get the words out of his mouth. “Elliot Smith—and don’t bother denying it. I’m seeing the way you two eye each other; everyone is. The anticipation is so thick no one could miss it, bro.”
“We’re on an op, Fionn.”
His friend leaned against the wall. “Let me be telling you something, Deac—that woman is a distraction. You want that distraction gone? Fuck her. Then your brain won’ be fogged by wondering what the sex would be like. Get it out of the way, and everything will go easier.”
“Is that the only way you see sex?” He’d been married to Jules since high school. The whole “sex for sex’s sake” hadn’t been a part of his experience. Now...
Could he do it? His cock screamed yes every time he thought about the petite fighter, but when his brain wasn’t fogged with lust, it sounded a firm no. And then there was Elliot’s team—not one of those men would be okay with sex on an op. Dain might just rip his head off.
Fionn had no such qualms, obviously. “That is how I’m seeing it! Everything else is too much fecking drama.”
Fionn would know; some of the women who’d chased him after a one-night stand had certainly caused drama. Deacon suspected Elliot was exactly the opposite. The expression on her face when he’d confronted her over the surveillance...
Yes, she’d run, and the part of him that was pure predator wanted the chase. He would never admit it to Fionn, but he was beginning to wonder if the man was right. She wouldn’t go down easy, though. And her team...
He needed a plan, and he needed one fast.