Speed King (Men of Action 1)

The three of us go upstairs to the media room where Talon has his computer hooked up to the console. His usually relaxed disposition is gone.

No whistling. No jokes. No easy-going attitude.

We don’t wait long until his phone chimes, and he types in a code on his computer, the TV screen springing to life. Willie comes into view, looking every bit the soldier and one-hundred-percent the badass I remember.

“Men.”

“Miss us already?” Ford’s attempt at the joke comes out dry.

“Whitman, wish like hell this was a social call. We got a situation brewing.”

“Figured that with the cryptic message,” Talon mutters.

“Chatters heating about new players on the scene. Word is they’re nasty motherfuckers. Hands in everything. Right now, we have a team doing special recon.”

“What’s this got to do with us?” Major asks what everyone is thinking.

“Nothing yet. Black Shell team is in the mix. But if this moves, I want my men. My men being you,” Willie clarifies.

“We have a deal. Our involvement only happens in three instances,” I point out.

“If I call you, it’s one of those three. Rescue and Recover to be exact.”

“Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck. I just got the taste of that goddamn sand out of my mouth.” Ford blows out a breath in disgust.

“No sand, Whitman, at least not the sand you’re thinking. This is happening on our side of the world.”

“Can you give us more?” I push, knowing it’s useless.

“Unfortunately not, Kingston. This is your head’s up. Hopefully, it’s unnecessary.”

Head’s up. Meaning he’s telling us to get our affairs in order. The man wouldn’t do that unless he had a gut feeling. He’s not an alarmist.

“You men stay tight. I’ll be in touch.” Willie ends the call, the screen going black.

The room is quiet with all eyes on me. This is us.

My brothers.

Our commitment and service are non-negotiable.

None of us are backing down.

Our affairs are in order.

But we have a new member of our crew. Harley means a lot to these guys, but she’s my world.

Their silent question hangs in the air.

“Tonight. When Harley gets off work, I’ll tell her tonight.”

16

Harley

“Jesus, Harley, take a deep breath.”

I try, but the air doesn’t reach my lungs and I grow lightheaded. My hands go to his shirt, clutching tight, not able to get close enough.

“Baby, I need you to breathe. You’re shaking like crazy.”

I take in quick breaths, finally getting my head together, and the panic sets in.

“You’re going back.” It’s barely audible, but his whole body goes solid.

“We don’t know that yet.” His hand strokes through my hair gently. “We know little.”

“Can you tell them no? I mean, say ‘nope, I’m done. Let the other guys handle this’?”

His already solid body turns to steel. “Baby…”

He doesn’t have to finish because I’m scrambling out of his hold across the bed.

“Forget I said that! I didn’t mean it. I mean, I meant it, but it’s something I say to Jewls, Mom, or Dad. Not you. That was shitty and unsupportive.”

“It was honest.”

“It was still shitty. This is you, who you are and what you do. I’m in shock. Give me a minute to let it penetrate and my senses will return.”

“Get back over here.”

I shake my head, pulling my knees to my chest and curling around them. “Tell me again what this means.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Like I said, we know little. If the time comes we’re needed, we’ll be briefed and brought in the fold. But, baby, prepare yourself. If that time comes, I can’t—”

“Tell me,” I finish his sentence. “You can’t tell me what the situation is.”

Regret and guilt fill his features. “No.”

“Why would Willie do that? Is it normal to drop that kind of bomb and leave it hanging out there? Giving nothing to go on and worrying you all to death?”

He reaches over, lifting me effortlessly back to his lap. “We’re not worried. Like you said, we are who we are and this is what we do. We’re trained for many circumstances.”

“You said there are only three reasons that would call you back?”

He nods.

“Can you share those?”

His beautiful, thoughtful eyes fill with remorse, and this time he shakes his head.

“Is this like a mission to kill Bin Laden?”

“Baby, that was the Seals. We’re pretty awesome, but we’re not Seals.”

“See? That’s where my imagination automatically goes.”

“Nothing like that. We’re more Special Operations in certain skill sets.”

“And Willie can’t get another group of badasses?”

His lips curl, the regret changing to amusement. “He’s partial to our brand of badass since he trained us.”

“Of course, he’s partial,” I mumble.

“You going to uncurl yourself from this ball and let me get us into bed? It’s late and you have to work in the morning.”

“I can’t think about work knowing every minute of the day I’ll wonder if you’re being shipped to God knows where to do whatever it is you do.” A spark of irritation replaces the shock, and I loosen my arms, releasing my tight hold on myself. “I can’t believe you held on to this information all damn day and night. You should have told me right after lunch with the moms.”