Top Gun Tiger (Protection, Inc 7)

“Baseball. I love going to ball games with—” He broke off. After an awkward pause, he said, “What about you? Other than basketball?”

“Soccer,” Ethan replied, though what he wanted to say, or rather scream to the heavens, was “Why is everything a secret with all of you?!” Instead, he said, “Merlin? What’s your favorite sport to watch? Other than gymnastics?”

With a gleam in his eyes that made Ethan instantly regret asking, Merlin said, “Buzkashi!”

“What the hell is that?” Pete demanded.

“It’s like polo, but instead of a ball, you use a dead goat.”

“Yeah, right,” said Ethan.

“It’s the national sport of Afghanistan,” Ransom said. “There’s a similar sport in Argentina, but instead of a dead goat, they use a live duck in a basket.”

“Ever seen it?” Merlin asked hopefully.

In a tone designed to discourage further discussion, Ransom said, “I don’t watch sports.”

And that was the end of that. Ethan tried to decide if he’d managed a full five minutes of normal conversation, then decided that except for his brief exchanges with Pete, none of it had actually been normal.

And even Pete, his ability to talk normally about sports aside, had some definite oddities. In some ways, he was like a lot of Marines, a regular guy who liked being outdoors and working with his hands. But he wouldn’t talk about his past or his personal life, in a way that went way beyond private and into flat-out strange. He refused to reveal his hometown, he wouldn’t say if he’d ever had another job, and once when Merlin had decided to kill time by polling them on whether they wanted to have kids, Pete had given him a look so murderous that even Merlin had shut up in a hurry.

He was fiercely protective of his team, though, whether he got along

with them or not. And he was absolutely fearless in combat. Maybe too fearless. Ethan once had to physically drag him away when they’d gotten the order to retreat, and afterward Pete had given him a blank look and said he hadn’t heard the order.

“He’s a berserker,” Ransom had said.

“I didn’t go berserk,” Pete had said, scowling at him. “I couldn’t hear the command over the gunfire, that’s all.”

It had been loud, but everyone else had heard it. Something got into Pete when he fought, something even Ethan couldn’t help finding a little scary. He’d looked up “berserker” afterward, and found that they were Viking warriors who were said to be possessed by bear spirits and went into combat without armor, relying on the sheer force of their battle rage to protect them.

Pete didn’t look like a Viking, or at least not like Ethan imagined Vikings, as huge white guys with blue eyes and long blond hair. He looked as strong as he was, but he wasn’t enormous, and his buzz cut and skin and expressive eyes were brown. Still, Ethan had wondered ever since if Ransom had been on to something.

At least Merlin, though as brave as any man Ethan had ever met, didn’t make him wonder if he’d have to drag him from a fight. He sometimes creatively interpreted orders, but not in the heat of battle. And even when arguing, he never got angry. Normally Ethan would have appreciated having someone friendly on the team. He did appreciate it. Merlin just took it to extremes.

Ethan had once joked that Merlin could be airdropped into Afghanistan and meet his old buddy, a travelling rug salesman. They’d all laughed at that… until they’d been airdropped into Afghanistan and Merlin actually did run into an old buddy. He was a travelling pots-and-pans salesman, but close enough. They’d had a whole conversation in a language Ethan had never even heard of, but Merlin could speak fluently.

He knew so many languages that he should have gotten pulled out of combat duty and into translation—which, Ethan supposed, was why he’d never seen Merlin speak anything but English when any officers were in hearing range. And when Ethan asked him how he’d learned them, Merlin had claimed that his mother had primed him by sleeping with language lessons playing all night when she was pregnant.

But that was Merlin. He had a story to account for everything, but he told them with a wink that made it obvious that he wasn’t even trying to fool anyone. If anyone called him on it, he’d just tell another ridiculous story. What was he trying to hide?

Then again, there was plenty that Ethan himself hadn’t told his team. They knew about his brother-in-law Hal’s security agency, and that Ethan sometimes helped them out. But they sure didn’t know that Hal could turn into a grizzly bear. And he’d never mentioned Destiny at all. He told himself that she was none of their business, but the truth was that it hurt too much to talk about.

Destiny.

He tried his damnedest not to think about her, but the most ridiculous little things always managed to remind him. Just now, it was the rushing river beside them, and the mud that had spattered their boots and camo. It made him think of the mud they’d plastered over her dancing dress when they’d first met. He never had bought her that new dress—he’d offered again, but she wouldn’t let him—and they’d never gone dancing, either. And they never would.

Why’d she have to be a shifter? Ethan thought for the millionth time, though now that he’d seen her tiger, it was hard to imagine her without it. If she wasn’t, she’d have never heard of mates, and we’d be together now.

But then he thought, also for the millionth time, It wouldn’t have made a difference. You’ve seen her teammates fall in love, and call that being mated. When she said, “We’re not mates,” what she meant was, “I don’t love you, and I never will.”

It had been two years since she’d turned him down. He’d have expected the pain to have eased by now. But it was still as sharp as if it had been two minutes ago.

It’s ridiculous for me to be so hung up on her, he thought. People move on from divorces. Why can’t I move on from a woman I never even dated?

“What about you, Ethan?”

Ethan had completely zoned out. “What about what?”