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“Carson is going to be joining our unit from here on out,” Rhys explains.
The girl blinks with confusion. I don’t notice if the others do the same as my eyes are pretty much locked on her. Her hair is trimmed short, auburn in color. The tent blocks plenty of light but I can easily see green irises shining out from behind her long eyelashes. Pointed cheekbones, concave cheeks.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
What the hell is she doing all the way out here?
“In what capacity, sir?” she asks.
Rhys shrugs. “I don’t know. A civilian… intelligence freelancer. That sounds official enough. Basically, he broke our equipment and he’s gonna fix it for us.”
“Well, it’s not really broken,” I say. “It’s just shitty…”
“Either way, he’s part of our unit and we’ll treat him like it from here on out. Sound good?”
“Yes, sir,” they all say in unison.
I flinch at the sudden bark of voices. I guess I’ll just have to get used to that if I’m going to be hanging out with the cast of Platoon.
“Fawn,” Rhys says. “I’m sticking him with you. Keep an eye on him.”
Her posture sinks. “Sir—?”
“Show him around. Teach him the rules. Keep him from getting shot at.”
She steps forward, trying very hard to keep her cool. “Sir, I’m not—”
“As you were, boys,” Rhys says, spinning around and darting down the aisle fast enough to dodge her questions.
I turn back to the team, my eyes once again falling on her. “You can call me Boxcar,” I say.
Fitzpatrick steps forward as The Kicker and The Cuffer wander back to their cots again to ignore me.
“Fox,” he says.
“Rabbit,” I say, shaking his hand.
He chuckles. “It’s my name.”
“Cool. I figured, but then again, why give up the opportunity to list off cute, woodland creatures, am I right?”
Fox’s hand drops to his side and he gestures to the girl. “This is Caleb.”
Caleb.
She stands still, ignoring the hand I extend out to her. Only her eyes move, staring down over her little button nose at my dirt-covered fingers.
“Excuse me,” she says.
As she darts past, I catch a quick whiff of her scent — one far more pleasant than I ever thought possible in this area of the world. I can’t imagine she has perfume stashed in her footlocker, but I detect flowers in my nose for a brief, wonderful moment. I turn to watch her exit and my eyes fall to her perfectly toned ass as it sways back and forth with anger.
I look at Fox. “Was it something I said?”
“Rabbit, probably.”
“Ahh…”
Fox pats my shoulder and shifts around to plop back down onto his cot. “She’ll adapt. Always does.”
