Heated Pursuit Read online

  “No, because I’m too busy imagining what a man like him is doing to Rachel.”

  Her voice caught on her niece’s name. Her gaze, previously matching his head-on, lost its ferocity with a few quick blinks. But it was the nibbling of her lower lip that was a red flare shot inches from his face.

  Rafe told himself to give her a second to collect herself. But there was too much on the line, and not solely the team’s mission to bring down Fuentes before the bastard spread his superdrug, Freedom, to the States. Left to the atrocities of San Pedro Sula, no way could Penny come out whole and intact, and more importantly, she shouldn’t have to take that kind of risk. The fact she felt it necessary bothered him a hell of a lot.

  Rafe ignored Trey’s grumbles from across the room. “If Fuentes has Rachel, we’ll find her.”

  A chorus of nods and hell yeahs filtered through the group.

  “You mean like you’ve found him?” She rolled her eyes with a snort. “I’m sorry. You said you’ve been down here looking for him for how long? Months? Rachel doesn’t have that kind of time. You’ve said yourself that Fuentes is a monster. If he doesn’t kill her or sell her to the highest bidder, then she becomes a walking guinea pig. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  Trey unfolded his six-foot body from the couch and stood. “And you think you can do any better? Jesus, Penn, we’re trained for this kind of shit. You’re trained to place children in loving homes and help the elderly work out the kinks in their social security checks. What you’re not is a—”

  “A social worker.”

  “That’s exactly my point.” Trey nodded, looking smug.

  “I mean, I’m not a social worker.” She gestured toward the laptop that sat on the beat-up coffee table. “Look it up. And it’ll speed things along if you use the Lebanon County Sheriff’s Office database.”

  Logan, former Marine sniper and resident country boy, was already on it. With his well-worn cowboy boots and chewed-to-hell toothpick sticking out of his mouth, no one but his teammates would’ve expected it to take him less than a minute before letting out a loud, and obviously impressed, whistle. “Hot damn. Looks like our redheaded viper’s packing more than a mean kick. She’s got a license.”

  Logan chuckled. Hands propped behind his head, he leaned back so the rest of the team could read the screen.

  Trey gawked at the computer, then at Penny. “You’re a goddamned bounty hunter? What the fuck happened to being a social worker?”

  “I got tired of the women in my shelter being afraid because their no-good exes skipped out on parole. And the term I’d prefer you use is bail enforcement agent.” An impish grin slipped onto her face as she scanned their surprised expressions. “I may not be a card-carrying member of the Commando Club, but I’m not entirely helpless either. And I’m not flying into this with blinders over my eyes.”

  Most people chose not to meet Rafe’s gaze head-on. When he was young, he chalked it up to the startling contrast of his tanned coloring given to him by his Guatemalan mother and the blue eyes of his Anglo-American father. Then the closer he got to his teenage years, he partnered the oddity up with a fuck-off scowl, and like magic, most people kept their distance.

  Obviously, Penny wasn’t included in that tally. Not only did she hold his gaze without so much as a blink, but she challenged it with a subtle eyebrow lift. The woman needed to come with a too-intense-for-public-consumption warning label.

  “Kidnapping’s good business,” he pointed out. “This country’s filled with all kinds of low-level pond scum looking to make a few bucks. What makes you think it’s Fuentes who has Rachel?”

  “Because she e-mailed me a picture of him right after he threatened her for sticking her nose in his business.”

  “What business?”

  “The disappearances of young women in the village where she’d been stationed. It didn’t take long for her to notice that each one coincided with visits from Fuentes and his men—which was at least once every other week, sometimes more frequent. The bastard had the elders thinking that the wrath of God would strike them down if they so much as muttered a word about it, much less interfered.”

  Realization started to dawn. “And let me guess…she wasn’t so accommodating.”

  “Rachel loved those people. She loved her job. The NGO she was working for wrote her off as bailing her post, but Rachel wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t have gone unless someone made her leave.”

  Hell, it fit. All of it. By plucking people in a society where no one would notice, Fuentes solved two of his problems—loose ends and productivity. While remaining stateside, Charlie, Alpha’s tech guru, had already gathered intel that led them to believe Fuentes was using the Honduran populace as his own personal test subjects. If Rachel had been about to cause him problems, the bastard wouldn’t hesitate in getting rid of her the most efficient way he knew how.

  One minute was too long in the presence of a man like Fuentes. Rachel, about to hit a month, was quickly running out of time—if that time hadn’t already expired. Penny’s stern jaw told Rafe that she knew each and every one of the risks associated with this game of hide-and-seek, and she didn’t give a damn—because it was for family.

  He didn’t have anything in the way of parents or siblings. Hell, he didn’t even have a goddamned houseplant. But Rafe understood that fierce loyalty all the same because it’s how he felt about each of his teammates.

  But that didn’t mean she belonged here.

  “What are the chances of you staying on a plane if we plop you onto one and fly your ass home?” Rafe asked, though he already guessed the answer.

  “I’d be on the first flight back,” she said without batting a pretty green eye.

  He didn’t doubt that for one damn second.

  Penny met his gaze. “Look, I know you guys have a job to do here, and putting Fuentes out of commission is an important one. But so is mine. I’ll do whatever I have to do to prove I won’t be a liability. Put me through the gauntlet. I don’t care. But at least give me a chance before you send me on my way. Or try to.”

  Rafe sent a sidelong glance toward his boss. Sean Stone had stayed not-so-miraculously quiet for the last few hours, absorbing everything around him. A man of few words, the former SEAL led Alpha Security with a firm, but fair, fist. No surprise to Rafe, Stone’s dark stare hovered over Penny to the point the redhead squirmed—albeit faintly.

  “You want a gauntlet, then you got a gauntlet,” Stone agreed. His mouth remained in a tight line, nearly obscured by his dark, salt-and-pepper beard. “Whether you stay or go lies entirely in the hands of Alpha’s training coordinator. You don’t impress him, you go home and leave Fuentes and Rachel to us. We don’t have time to babysit and neither does she. Agreed?”

  Rafe watched her steadfast gaze bounce from each of his teammates as if trying to figure out in whose hands she’d be placing her fate.

  “Agreed.” She eventually accepted with a slight nod.

  Only then did Rafe let a slow smirk ratchet up the corner of his mouth. Perceptive, Penny caught sight of it. The softly muttered curse that fell off her lips made him grin even wider.

  * * *

  Penny’s heart pounded, the upbeat thump-thump making her body vibrate from head to toe. Her arms and legs ached from overuse, and what had been a feminine glow an hour ago was now a profuse fountain of sweat. Not even during her most difficult haul-in did she have to work this hard.

  She made a mental vow to punch her bail enforcement mentor the next time she laid eyes on his clean-shaved head. Vince had obviously been training her with kid gloves, and because of it, she was about to have her rear end handed to her on a platter—or more accurately, the floor mats.

  In and out. Slow and steady. Hands on knees, she focused on the mechanics behind breathing as she shot a glare at the man standing smugly a short four feet away.

  She had to go and suggest a damn gauntlet. And then she went even stupider and agreed to put her fate and Rachel�
�s fate in the hands of Alpha’s training coordinator. She should’ve known. She did know the second Rafe slowly slid his delectable mouth into a little smirk. Right now the only thing she had going for her was that it wasn’t him she’d been pitted against in the hand-to-hand demo. Of course, she wasn’t faring all that well against Logan either.

  Beneath his sexually themed T-shirt and flirtatious Southern-boy smiles, Logan Callahan was as hard bodied and obnoxious as the rest of his team—something she neglected to see until he flipped her to the floor the first of many times. Now that her eyes were wide open, she was determined to take him down. Just as soon as she could stand upright without fear she’d teeter ass over foot.

  “You done already, darlin’?” Head cocked, Logan rocked on the balls of his feet, his blond wavy hair falling in perfect position and not looking at all like they’d been at this for close to forty-five minutes. “Do you want to take a water break? Perch your sweet self in front of the AC? Or how about a nap?”

  She drilled the former Marine with a glare that pulled his mouth into a grin.

  “I’ll be taking a nap if someone doesn’t do something soon,” came a voice from the sideline. “Unless you’re trying to knock him over with a bat of your lashes, Red, you may want to actually move.”

  Penny redirected both her glare and her focus to the man standing to her left. Though the rest of the team held up the wall with their backs and watched as if her match against Logan were better than Monday Night Football, it was Rafe of whom she’d been painfully aware.

  The man wasn’t in-your-face sexy. You wouldn’t find him on the cover of GQ or walking down a runway wearing a pin-striped suit and expensive cologne. But between his chiseled body and the few days’ worth of dark stubble peppering his jaw, he could star as the main attraction in any woman’s hottest bad-boy fantasy.

  Lord knew he’d fueled her own as she’d lain in bed last night. In fact, the main plot of her personal Rafe-induced flight of imagination involved him getting really close. And naked. And a whole lot of sweaty that definitely didn’t involve hand-to-hand sparring.

  Dream Rafe had nearly sent her body up in flames. His hands. His mouth. Good God, and when he used them together? She was lucky she hadn’t set the bed on fire. Never having been the type of woman to be fueled by lust, she found the whole experience a little overwhelming—and a hugely bad idea.

  “Have something to say…Red?” Rafe’s scrutiny pulled her back into the moment. Before she could conjure a snappy retort, he turned to Logan. “Stop giving her time to recuperate. You’re not doing her any favors by being too easy on her.”

  Logan gave him a skeptical snort. “Easy? She looks like she’s an axe kick away from passing the hell out.”

  “Then we’ll have proven our point and can send her on her way home.” Rafe slid her a condescending smirk. “Which is where she should be.”

  Label it daddy issues or feminist tendencies, but what Penny hated most in the world—besides nylons—was being dismissed. Either Rafe knew that or he didn’t care. No matter his reasoning for being a mountain-sized jerk, it sparked an inner fire she hadn’t felt for a ridiculously long time.

  “Like hell will I be going home.” She stepped back onto the center of the mat and crooked her finger at Logan. “Let’s go. No napping. No taking it easy on me.”

  Logan looked a bit wary by her sudden rejuvenation. “Okay, but will you go easy on me?”

  “No.” Penny spun. Her fist clipped the blond operative’s jaw in a back fist that would’ve hurt them both if he hadn’t ducked when he did.

  “Jesus.” Logan shot a glance toward Trey. “Why the hell am I the one being offered as the sacrificial fucking lamb? She’s your not-so-little sister.”

  “Because you volunteered.” Trey smirked. “And I’m not stupid. I saw what she did to Tommy Wilcox when the little shit tried to cop a feel at the homecoming dance. No way in hell was I offering.”

  “You could warn a brother, you know.”

  Trey shrugged. “Not as fun to watch.”

  “Are we going to do this or what?” Penny asked, drawing their attention back to the task.

  Logan, looking less eager than before, stepped back onto the mat. Penny mirrored his movements when he made his approach. No way in hell was she backing down. Her renewed fervor had less to do with tossing the cowboy operative to the floor than it did wiping the bemused grin off Rafe’s face.

  And she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that a small part of her wanted to impress the hell out of him, too.

  Crazy. Pure insanity considering she told herself years ago that men with the GI Joe Complex were strictly off-limits. She abso-freaking-lutely appreciated everything soldiers did for their country. The duty and loyalty that ran through their veins produced true heroes. But she knew from experience that that kind of allegiance often put people who weren’t dressed in Army green—or Navy blue—into a second-tier spot of importance.

  Been there. Done that. Had the daddy issues to prove it. And most importantly, not doing it again.

  Keeping a safe distance from anything or anyone who couldn’t offer her a first-place ranking was paramount. And she’d get back to it—after she demonstrated to Rafe and the others that she wasn’t a liability.

  The glint of the mock knife in Logan’s hand snapped Penny back to reality. He deftly tossed it from palm to palm. Her eyes tracked it like the pendulum of a clock. The second he lunged, she dodged left. The quick-ducking side step made him miss by inches. It was poetry in motion as she found her groove.

  Lunge and evade. They moved in an unchoreographed dance that paraded them around the mat. On their third pass, her sneaker snapped against his wrist, sending the knife flying.

  “Save the acrobatics for the circus,” Rafe growled from the sideline.

  Logan’s gait glided over the floor as he and Penny circled. He flashed her a quick wink. “I don’t know, Ortega. Some of those gymnastic moves could be pretty damn inspiring in the bedroom.”

  “Aw, have things become so deficient you’d resort to getting your butt kicked to spice it up again?” Penny ignored the fact her words came out sounding like an asthmatic phone-sex operator and continued to tease. “Maybe you should be the one taking that nap. You’re slowing down.”

  “No way in hell, darlin’. You caught me once. Not gonna happen again.”

  Male laughter erupted from everyone except Rafe. A split second later, Logan charged in a frontal assault. Grabbing onto his forearms, she used his forward momentum and propelled him across the floor like a two-hundred-pound paper airplane.

  A second from his face hitting the mat, he ducked into a roll and came back to his feet. When he turned, she was there with a sharp elbow jab to the gut. Logan doubled over with a grunt, giving her the opening she needed. Lowering her center of gravity, Penny gripped the back of his shirt and with a throaty growl, tossed him over her shoulder and onto the mat.

  Again.

  Logan looked momentarily stunned. “Well, hell, darlin’. You may be small, but you’ve got some skills.”

  Penny chuckled as she wiped the stream of sweat off her forehead. “I think there was a compliment in there somewhere, so thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And I’ll give you another one by asking you to have my children. I mean, just imagine them…beautiful, sassy, redheaded ones with fast reflexes.” He got back to his feet with a groan. “That’s if I can have children after that elbow drill. Shit. I think I need a medic, Kincaid.”

  “If it were an arm, leg, or even your head, I could be convinced to give you a hand, but I’ll be damned if I’m going anywhere near your junk…or your ass. You’re on your own, man,” said Chase Kincaid, the blond Viking standing next to Trey.

  Penny snorted on a laugh. As far as ending notes, this felt like a pretty damn good way to finish the day. Preoccupied with her mental pat on the back for not looking like a complete damsel, she didn’t register the looming figure at her back until twin logs
wrapped around her middle.

  It was freaking déjà vu.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Rafe could deal with a lot of shit, but watching Penny spar with Logan wasn’t one of them. As a matter of fact, it felt like having a hot poker repeatedly shoved through his eye socket. He lost count of the number of times he’d nearly made an ass of himself and stopped the whole damn thing. But the real challenge came in the form of the hard-on that sprang to attention the second it was his hands on her lithe body.

  Nothing like a raging erection to become the physical symbol for pissing on the Man-Code Book of Ethics. Now that his body pressed flush against hers, he may as well have set it ablaze and buried it under six feet of cow shit. Because the code didn’t give a rat’s furry ass if Trey and Red shared the same blood or not, or if they’d basically been estranged the last few years. They were related all the same. Pseudo-siblings. Hands off was hands-fucking-off.

  Rafe could attempt to pass off his draw to the redhead as concern for her well-being, but she’d held her own against Logan, using speed, agility, and creativeness not only to keep the playing field even, but to occasionally take the lead. Even bullying her into quitting hadn’t worked.

  A confident woman with the ability to make a grown man literally fall to his knees was fucking sexy as hell. Her fortitude. His erection. Their mission. All wrapped up in one special package, it meant he was triple-fucked. In his pants, his cock twitched its agreement.

  Distracted by the inopportune hard-on, he hadn’t realized Penny had gone still in his arms until she drilled her foot into his instep and slipped from his hold. Rafe sucked in a curse, blocking a back fist to his nuts with only centimeters to spare.

  “Nice try, Red.” He twisted her around until her back met his front again, and coasted his mouth over the shell of her ear. “You’re fast, I’ll give you that, but you can’t rely solely on speed. You need to always pay attention, be aware of your surroundings every damn second. And for fuck’s sake, never underestimate how much your opponent wants to kick your ass—or worse.”