Shots speared the night as Brick grabbed Spit under his arms. The bullets were close, way too close as Brick dragged the SEAL into the cover of the jungle.
When they were hidden by thick foliage, Brick shoved up his night-vision goggles. By the light of the flames, he saw Spit wake and grimace, but the man didn’t make a sound.
Through the cover, Brick caught glimpses of Chavez’s men at the compound. Looked like they’d organized what remained of their ranks and were about to head into the jungle.
“Get the hell out of here,” Brick said over his comm. “Chavez’s men are headed our way.”
Thank God all of his team responded in the affirmative, including Janie. Meant no one was down but Spit.
“Where are you hit?” Brick asked his teammate and friend.
“I’ll live.” Spit sucked in his breath. “Took one in my thigh, I think close to bone.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Bullet got me in the back, too, dead center in my armor. Knocked the breath out of me but that’s it.”
Brick ripped strips of his T-shirt off and hurried to tie a tourniquet around Spit’s thigh and the blood-soaked fatigues.
“We need to get our asses back to base.” Brick jerked Spit to his feet. “Thunder and Casper should make it before we do with you holding us up.”
“No fucking kidding.” Spit had already turned and made his way through the jungle, barely limping despite the wound. Tough sonofabitch.
Shouts came closer and a bullet zinged and buried itself in a rubber tree next to Brick’s head.
“The kid with you, Taylor?” Brick said to Janie over his comm while he busted through the foliage, away from the compound.
“Yes,” she said over the earpiece to the sound of gunfire, her breathing sounding a little rough. “We’re sure not hanging around.”
Brick kept up with Spit and covered their backsides as they headed back to base.
* * *
“Thank you, Uncle John.” Brandon crouched by the fire, early morning light showing the dust and ash on his cheeks. His focus was entirely on his uncle.
Brick sat on a rock near the campfire. They were at a different location this time, much farther away from what remained of Chavez’s compound.
He ran his palm down his stubbled face before looking at Brandon and shaking his head. “I’m the one who got you into this mess. You don’t owe me one single word of thanks.” He nodded toward each team member lounging around the campfire, including Janie. “The team deserves mine.”
Thunder, Spit, and Casper each shrugged or gave Brick a casual “it’s no big deal” look.
“You would’ve done it for any one of us,” Thunder said in his rough voice. He pushed himself away from the palm tree he’d been leaning against. “So don’t start that gratitude shit.”
“Now you can get the kid home in time for Christmas,” Thunder said, clearly trying to change the subject.
“I can’t wait to see Mom and Dad.” Brandon lit up then looked sheepish. “I was a real jerk though, before I got taken. I hope they’re not still mad at me.”
Brick shook his head. “Your parents have been worried as hell. They’re going to be damned glad to have you home, and proud of you for how well you handled everything, too.”
As the other men started talking with Brandon, Brick turned to look at Janie. He wondered if she’d ever forgive him.
Janie swallowed. Brick studied her with green eyes that looked both tired and irritated. She was still rather pleased that she’d given him an excellent black eye.
He got to his feet, his torn black T-shirt exposing the flat of the tanned skin of his abs. He focused his gaze on her. “Come on,” he said as he turned his back on her and started walking into the jungle.
A slow burn traveled through her body, heating her face and causing her scalp to prickle. She was so tempted to ignore the big ass, but she had to face him sooner or later and she never was one to procrastinate.
“Sure.” Janie tried to keep her tone and her expression cool as she got up from the rock she’d been sitting on. She dusted sand from her backside, as if that would do any good considering they were camped out on a beach.
By the looks on the faces of the other black ops team members, they knew Brick was pissed and intended to let her know it. Janie swallowed and followed him into the dimness of the jungle.
As they made their way deeper into the foliage, the potency of his presence seemed to envelop her and she could almost feel him inside of her.
Idiot. She wanted to bang her head against a coconut tree—maybe a coconut would land on her head and knock sense back into her.
She had no idea why he was going so deep. All he needed to do was get her out of earshot of the campsite.
When they were a good hundred yards from the campsite, Brick turned to face her. He looked down at her, his arrogant features grim and unyielding.
Janie raised her hands before he could speak and imagined herself wringing his neck. “I’m there every step of the way with this team no matter what the mission is.”
He stood in front of her, like a battleship anchored in stormy seas. His features flickered with an expression she hadn’t seen on him before—and she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, wanting to clock him. Again.
Then his features softened, just slightly, but she’d never seen him look anything less than hard. He dragged his hand down his face and she felt confusion on her own features as he met her gaze.
“I—” Brick cleared his throat, but kept his eyes locked on her, “owe you an apology.”
Janie blinked. Then she blinked again. Brick was apologizing? “For not letting me on the team,” she stated.
“No.” He shook his head. “I was wrong to leave you off the team but I had my reasons. But that’s not what I’m apologizing for.”
Before she could comprehend what this big man was saying, he continued, “I was an asshole for what I said to you when we—” He cut off his sentence like he didn’t know how to finish it. “I was worse than an asshole.”
She narrowed her gaze. “That’s never been in question.”
He approached her and she stood her ground, even when he raised his hands and gripped her shoulders. Warmth traveled from his palms throughout her body.
His jaw tightened. “The reason I said what I did is the same reason I didn’t want you to go on this mission.”
Her confusion grew. “I’m not following this conversation.”
“I care too much about you, Janie.” Brick’s grip on her shoulders increased. “I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. The mission was too dangerous and I couldn’t handle living without you.”
Janie felt like she’d just fallen into quicksand and it was sucking her in, fast. She’d been an undercover operative for twelve years and on this team for six months. Nothing on earth could have prepared her for what Brick was telling her.
“I thought that maybe if I—if I had you—that it would make these feelings go away.” He started moving his hands up and down her upper arms.
She was still speechless.
“Shit.” He released her arms and dragged his hand down his face again. “I know I fucked that up with how I treated you and with trying to keep you off the op.”
Warmth grew within Janie’s chest and the weighted feeling that had been in her body grew light, pleasant. He locked his eyes with hers again.
She started to smile, started to tell him what was inside her heart when she saw an expression of anger cross his features.
The too-familiar click of a handgun sent harsh tingles down her spine.
“Nice,” came an unfamiliar voice from the foliage behind Brick. “Brick Sanders has yet another Achilles heel.”
Brick’s scalp prickled and a sudden rush of adrenaline sent his pulse racing.
Flynn.
It took every bit of Brick’s SEAL training to keep his body loose and prepared to get out of what was about to become a fucking mess. How the hell hadn’t he caught on to Flynn’s approach until it was too late?
Janie. His feelings for her had caused exactly what he’d thought it might—distraction. He didn’t meet her gaze. Instead he looked over her shoulder and saw two men ease out from behind their tropical cover.
Three on two. Not bad odds providing Flynn didn’t just shoot them.
Brick couldn’t hear Flynn move, but he sensed that the man was closer. Flynn had been one of Brick’s closest friends at one time, when Flynn was a SEAL, too. Not any longer.
“Turn the fuck around, Sanders. Hands behind your head.” Flynn’s voice was now filled with rage. “You know I won’t have any problem putting a hole in your woman’s head if you screw with me.” The man made a snarling sound as he added, “I want her right beside you.”
Brick didn’t bother to ask Flynn to let Janie go. That would be the last thing the bastard would allow. Brick met Janie’s gaze and he felt pride at the strength he saw in her eyes. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
He wasn’t wearing his weapons belt, but he always kept a handgun in his boot and a knife in the sole. Not that Flynn would give him a chance to use either.
When Brick had raised his arms, hands behind his head, he slowly turned and faced the redheaded man who’d grown a goatee. Women had always gone for the bastard’s inherited Irish charm and wit.
“You destroyed everything.” Flynn’s hand remained steady, his weapon leveled at Janie as she stepped up beside Brick. “Had a real good thing going with Chavez before you took out my half of the operation.”
“Nothing personal,” Brick said, maintaining his calm. “You know it was our job.”
“Bullshit.” Flynn’s naturally pale complexion had reddened to the point that Brick wondered about the man’s blood pressure. “I offered you a deal if you’d turn attention away from my business. You should have taken the deal.”
“Like I said. Nothing personal.” Brick stared at his former friend—more anger rushing through him for Flynn turning to narcotics—producing and selling cocaine. When Brick had found out, it
had
become personal.
But Flynn had spotted him during the takedown and retaliated by kidnapping Brick’s nephew. Flynn had been a friend of the family at one time and knew way too much about Brick’s personal life.
“Since you managed to get the kid back,” Flynn said, “I think I’ll take care of this sweetheart and you can watch as I bleed her out.”
From the corner of his eye, Brick looked at Janie. She didn’t blink and her expression remained neutral. A combination of pride and fear for her made his focus all the clearer.
Flynn held his gun on Janie as he drew a knife from his belt. He continued to hold the gun in one hand, the knife in the other.
Brick glanced at Janie’s hands, which were behind her head. She was pointing one finger toward the men behind her.
He met her gaze, hoping she could see that he understood exactly what she intended to do.
Flynn raised the knife as he took a step toward Janie.
She dropped almost flat to the ground, in a pushup position.
Brick dove for Flynn and tackled him. He knocked the gun from Flynn’s hand, but the knife pierced Brick’s shoulder and pain shot through him swift and hot. He ground his teeth to hold back a shout from the pain at the same time he slammed his fist against Flynn’s jawbone. He felt bone crack beneath his knuckles.
Janie twisted onto her back as the two other men went for her. She gathered herself in a tight ball and rolled between the men, catching them off guard.
She drew a knife from her waistband and another from her boot so that she had a knife in each hand. She surprised the men again by going on the offense—and slicing each of their Achilles tendons in a swift move of each hand.
The men shouted and shrieked as their legs gave out. Janie didn’t pause. As they hit the ground she sliced one man’s throat and rammed the other knife into the other man’s heart.
After a gurgle and a pause, both men went slack.
At the same time Janie had taken out the two men, Brick and Flynn grappled on the ground. Blood flowed from Brick’s shoulder but he ignored it as he fought the extraordinary strength Flynn possessed.
Still fighting on the ground, Flynn slammed his fist into Brick’s eye. For the slightest moment, Brick felt disoriented, but he recovered and delivered a knife-hand strike to Flynn’s throat.
The man gasped for air and started to swing at Brick, but Brick grabbed Flynn around the neck in a death hold. With one quick movement, Brick twisted Flynn’s head and snapped his neck.
Brick pushed himself to his feet and slammed his boot into Flynn’s head, even though the man was already dead. Adrenaline still ran high and powerful through Brick’s body and the thought of what Flynn had intended to do made him want to kill the bastard all over again.
He turned and looked at Janie who was getting to her feet from between the two men she had just killed. She was breathing hard, smears of blood on her hands, her hair sticking out all over the place—but she was alive.
Thank God she was alive.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Well that’s certainly an interesting way to tell a girl that you care for her,” Janie finally said with a hint of a smile.
The power of his feelings for her nearly overwhelmed Brick. He strode toward her, grabbed her in his arms, and nearly crushed her in his embrace.
* * *
Brooklyn, New York
Snow fell in big, fat flakes outside the Brooklyn carriage house. Janie looked onto the small patio where snow piled in corners and dusted the pavers. She snuggled into her long-sleeved, cream-colored cashmere sweater, glad for the warmth.
Laughter and chatter came behind her. She wasn’t used to such happy noises on Christmas Day, and it warmed her body and soul.
Janie’s mind turned over the past several days. They’d just arrived back in the States two days ago, but the op seemed like a hundred years ago and might as well have been a million miles away. She had no family, so Brick’s brother, Mike, and sister-in-law, Gracie, had insisted that Janie come to their home to join them for the holidays.
Lights from the Christmas tree twinkled, the colors reflecting in the window as she stared into the overcast morning and the flakes drifting down.