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And seeing the glint in Moe’s eyes when she gave him a questioning look, she understood why—the two animals shared a bond. A bond that echoed theirs.
Of course, he’d tried to soften her up.
He made puppy eyes at her. “Yandi obviously has good taste.”
“Save it. I’m your CO and you’re my soldier. We have a mission. End of story.”
“Sure,” he said, grinning as he tightened the straps and secured the backpack on the saddle. “Whatever you say. As always, I’m at your mercy.”
She rolled her eyes so hard, she nearly tumbled over.
He sidled up to her, invading her personal space and making her pulse skip at his nearness. “But when this is over…?”
Looking up into his eyes, her pulse skipped at the carnal lust she saw in them. She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her uncrackable armor. Stay strong. “What?”
One finger traced a line down her cheek. “You know I’ve ruined you for anyone else, Parker.”
Ugh. The nerve of him. “You’ve ruined a lot of things, but not that.”
She was such a liar, but even the dig didn’t make him back off. “You can honestly claim that you haven’t had the best sex of your life with me?”
Her throat closed, the spot between her legs clamping and her nipples hardening. It took everything she had to make a coherent sentence. “There’s more to a good relationship than sex.”
He barked a laugh. “Bullocks if I’ve heard it.” He dropped his attention to her lips, running his thumb across the bottom one. “Good? What we have is better than that, and you know it.”
Damn, it was, too. “Get your mind out of the gutter and get your ass on that horse.”
He walked her backward, pressing her against the barn wall. “I love it when you boss me around.”
Behind them, Yandi and Remy stood next to each other, nuzzling and waiting patiently. Moe placed a hand on either side of her head, not touching her, but leaning in to whisper in her ear. She didn’t shove him away, hating herself for being so weak when he described in great, intimate detail all the things he was going to do to make her come once this was over.
EIGHT
“You really believe he’ll pull it off.” A statement, not a question.
Beatrice rubbed her tired eyes and looked up to find Vivi in the doorway. She gestured for her to take the visitor chair across from her. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Vivi was in sweats, her hair long enough now to pull into a short ponytail. Her face was devoid of makeup and she looked like she was running on too few hours of sleep. “Moe has a long road to recovery. He’s not ready for that level of responsibility.” She rubbed her eyes and sipped from a cup of steaming coffee. The mug had a Batman logo on it. She and Rory were keeping an eye on what was going down in Colorado, running their end of the operation from here, as well as keeping track of the one Vivi’s husband, Ian, was working in Argentina. “If you push him too far too fast, it will backfire.”
Beatrice respected the psychologist as much as anyone she’d ever known or worked with, yet her hackles went up when somebody tried to tell her what to do. “On a regular basis, I have to make these types of calls. Everyone here has been pushed to their limits at one time or another. We’ve all had to jump into the fire before we were ready. No one is everreadyfor big responsibility. All we can do is be prepared. No one can predict what will happen during any operation, no matter how much analysis we do, or the possible outcomes we run through the computer. Even Emit’s advanced AI simulators cannot predict every single action each player might take during a mission. If I don’t provide the fire and put his feet in it, we’ll never know what he’s capable of.”
Vivi rubbed a thumb over the Batman logo. “He’s coping with a lot of fallout. After years of chasing his brother’s killers, and dealing with the implosion of his family, I don’t think he ever expected to get justice. He’s floating in a sea of ‘what the hell do I do now.’ He needs time to figure it out, to process what’s happened. Since he won’t come for therapy, it’s going to take a while.”
Everyone shortchanged Moe. She hated to admit it, but even she had when he first arrived. He’d been haunted, desperate, needing a lifeline, and her gut had told her he was a wild card, that she should send him on his way with the information she’d dug up and call it good. But she’d seen something in him that reminded her of herself. That burning desire to fix whatever was broken, even when there was no chance in hell it could be. “Not everyone can find their way out of pain and loss through therapy.” At Vivi’s raised brows, Beatrice lifted placating hands. She was so exhausted, it felt like lifting hundred-pound weights. “Men like Moe work through their angst by helping other people. You and I have talked about this before. There are all kinds of therapy, and this is what he needs. Trust me.”
Vivi was quiet for several minutes, and Beatrice leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes. The two of them had been friends long enough that silence was not uncomfortable, even when discussing differences of opinion. Vivi was flipping through her arsenal of replies, making a case for her side of things, and Beatrice wasn’t defensive about it. No one knew the human psyche better. “He’s responded to my questions so far,” she said. “I just need time to dig through a few more layers and help him find his strength.”
Being in charge of SFI was a huge responsibility, and one Beatrice did not take lightly. She needed input from all her advisors, needed their support and insight into every person inside this compound, and on the sites they had in various cities. Each of the men and women who worked for her was part of her family, and she wanted what was best for them, as well as for every mission she sent them on. Was she pushing him before he was ready? The answer wasn’t going to be found here, in the early morning hours of this day. Before nightfall, however, she might have it. “Parker wanted you to be part of her team.”
She heard Vivi shift in the chair. “To keep an eye on him?”
Beatrice dipped her chin. “She’s in your camp.”
“You’re being stubborn about this.”
Beatrice cracked open her eyes and met her friend’s discerning gaze. “I’m being broad-minded. There are depths to Moe that none of us have seen yet. I believe in him.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if you’ve placed him in this situation and it triggers him? What if he fails, Lydia dies, and he spirals out of control?”
