Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

“Bailey Serborne.” He almost grinned as she remained completely motionless. “You’re slipping.”

He nodded to John; good old Heat Seeker grinned rakishly before pulling the tape from her mouth.

“Bastards!” The insult was a snarl of fury. “Do you think I don’t know what the hell is going on here? Every one of you will fry for this.”

Micah held back a chuckle. She was a wild one. She was enraged and with good cause. He had no doubt Nik didn’t play up the big bad Viking image that fit him like an old pair of jeans. Real comfortable.

Micah straddled the chair he had placed six feet in front of her and crossed his arms over the back.

“We’re in trouble here, buddy.” He looked up at John.

“Oh really?” Sandy blond brows arched in question. “How so? She looks dainty enough to me. I bet we could skin her out, chop her up in bite-sized portions, and sell her to the local dog food company. They’re always looking for cheap meat, you know.”

Micah winced. Cheap meat? he mouthed in amazement as he nearly laughed.

John grinned and shrugged.

“Cheap meat, your scrawny asses.” She fought the ropes holding her.

“Scrawny asses? She must be talking to you, Seeker,” Micah stated as he shook his head. “I have it on rather good authority that I have a nice ass.”

“Yeah, but your authority is prejudiced,” John snickered. “She’s not seen mine yet.”

“If you want to keep your ass, you’ll make sure it stays that way.” Micah frowned back at him. He didn’t consider that much of a joke.

But Heat Seeker only grinned.

“I’m talking to both you morons,” she screeched. “Let me the hell go.”

“Keep your voice down or the tape goes back over your mouth,” Micah warned her sharply. “Don’t forget, Ms. Serborne, you are the captive here, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, and the boss wouldn’t let me tie her down on the bed,” John grunted. “What kind of captor doesn’t tie his pretty captive to the bed, hm? I think we should file a complaint.”

While he spoke, John lowered his head until he was speaking against her ear, the smile on his face decidedly playful. One of these days, John Vincent was going to be forced to take something or someone seriously. Micah wanted to be there to see the fireworks.

“I’m not working alone.” She tried to slam her head into John’s. “I’ll be found.”

“Your partner’s dead,” Micah informed her. “He died in Russia in that little trap you laid for Orion. You haven’t been assigned another partner. Actually, you’re in rather a lot of trouble with your boss these days. Didn’t he tell you to back off in locating Orion?”

Micah knew the director had ordered her off the investigation she had taken upon herself.

She froze. “Sons of bitches,” she cursed. “Who the hell are you?”

“Tsk-tsk now, we’re asking the questions,” Micah chided her.

She snarled. Her lips pulled back from her teeth and the sound that came from her throat was pure throttled rage. He grinned at that. He knew how to push her buttons.

“I’m not answering your damned questions.” She struggled against her ropes again.

“I still say we sell her for cheap meat,” John reminded him. “We could get a few bucks out of her.”

“It would be tough for a Rottweiler to gnaw on,” he finally chuckled. “Our Ms. Serborne is rather stubborn.”

She was still now, her jaw working as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. He swore he could hear her molars grinding.

“She’s a pretty little thing,” John crooned, grinning wickedly as a growl sounded in her throat. “And she just makes the cutest little noises.”

Breathing roughly, shaking with anger, she remained still this time.