Texas Stand-Off: The Omega Team Novella (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  “Goddammit!” He ended the call and stomped into the house, his tread so hard he could feel the pressure on his bum leg all the way to his hip.

  Climbing the stairs to his outlook, Deacon saw an RV that had seen better days waiting for entrance. “Only for Grey Holden.” He picked up the remote and flipped the switch, muttering under his breath, “Don’t think this is going to be easy, lady. If you’re not Omega Team material, I’ll have no trouble kicking your ass to the curb.”

  Down below…the sound of the gate opening brought Taz out of her reverie. She didn’t mind waiting. The delay gave her time to review her plans. Working with Athena and the Omega Team would give her an outlet for all the pent-up energy simmering inside. She’d tried to be a normal woman, gone to an American university and made American friends. The classes were fun, but the idea of sitting behind a desk every day for the rest of her working career was intolerable. Her father was gone now, but since the day he’d rescued her from Sokolov’s horror chamber, he’d set out to teach her every trick in the book–how to survive–to fight–to win.

  Now, she needed a place to put those skills to good use. No police academy would touch her. No governmental agency would give her a chance. Despite passing the citizenship test. Despite pledging allegiance to her new country–she was suspect. All because of her father. She didn’t understand. He’d defected, knowing he would face a firing squad if he’d been caught and returned. Not even the details of what she’d suffered at the hands of a madman made a difference. So, this was her big chance. This job would give her life purpose. Athena assured her that Deacon Jones was the best. She’d told Taz he was a man’s man, tough but fair. Her heart beat rapidly anticipating the chance to learn from a master, to show him what she could do.

  As soon as the opening was big enough for her to drive through, she entered, pulling up to a garage-like entrance. In a few moments it opened and she eased into the dim interior. There was no one waiting for her, so Taz shut off the engine and opened her door. “The stairs are around the corner.”

  “Very well.” The voice might have been human, she couldn’t tell. It had robotic characteristics as well. Hearing the doors close where she’d entered, Taz presumed there was no need to lock anything up. It would take a tank to get into a place like this and she really didn’t have anything worth stealing. Opening the heavy door, she began to climb the stairs. Three flights. No windows. Wherever she was going was quite high in elevation. At the top, there was a door, but no knob or lever. Taz waited a few seconds and it swung open. She glanced up in the corners, searching for a camera. “Ah, yes.” There it was. She resisted the impulse to wave.

  In his control room, Deacon watched Natasha Levin. For some reason, he’d expected a bigger woman, taller with obvious muscles. There was nothing intimidating about this auburn haired sprite. She didn’t appear strong enough to open a mayonnaise jar, much less handle a gun. And hand to hand combat? Maybe if they were competing for the best nail color.

  He smiled. This wouldn’t take long. By the time she reached the final security checkpoint, he was waiting.

  Taz pressed the only button she could see. “May I come in, please?”

  The big metal door slid open and she found herself face to face with a big man. Shoulder length blond hair framed a face which was now contorted into a frown. Taz couldn’t help it, the sight struck her funny. A tiny giggle erupted from her mouth before she caught it, pressing her lips together.

  “Something amuses you?”

  This handsome man wanted to intimidate her. Even though Taz respected her superiors and would bend over backwards to please him, she didn’t scare easily. Not after what she’d been through. Standing up as straight as she could, she looked him in the eye. “Yes, sir.”

  Her answer surprised him. “What?”

  “You. You look like you’ve been sucking on a lemon.”

  Her explanation just made him frown more. “Follow me.” Turning his back to her, he walked off, apparently expecting her to fall in line.

  She did and when he abruptly stopped, Taz froze in her tracks, her nose mere inches from his broad back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Honestly, he didn’t quite know what to do with her. She was way too pretty for his peace of mind. He started walking again, turning to the right and leading Natasha into a big room with plate glass windows overlooking the river.

  “Bullet proof?”

  Deacon gestured for her to sit in an oversize leather chair near the fireplace and he chose one across from her. “Yes.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  Her question surprised him. Little thing was ballsy. She reminded him of Annie, which bothered the hell out of him. At that moment, Deacon decided he wouldn’t like this woman. He couldn’t afford to. “Nothing.” What haunted his dreams at night was none of this woman’s business.

  “Everyone is afraid of something, Mr. Jones.”

  When she raised her face to him emphasizing that determined little chin, he couldn’t help but count the freckles sprinkled across her cheeks…thirteen. “Really? What keeps you awake at night, Miss Levin?” With her tendency to say whatever she was thinking, he assumed it wasn’t a man.

  Without hesitation, she said emphatically. “Memories.”

  Deacon could tell by the set of her mouth she didn’t intend to elaborate. “So, Grey tells me you want to be on the Omega Team.”

  “Yes, sir. I am qualified to be a bodyguard, carry out rescue missions, even train soldiers for counterterrorism efforts.”

  Her brash, enthusiastic self-confidence gave him a headache. He bent his head, resting his face in the palm of his hands. “Give me strength,” he prayed under his breath.

  “Don’t worry, while I’m here, I’ll be your strength.”

  Her words seemed to shock him, he jerked his head up and glared at her. “I don’t need protection.” She reminded him of Ariel. All she needed was a bikini top and a fish tail. Damn, he shifted on the cushion, pulling his pants leg down to adjust his swollen package. Hell. Maybe he did need protecting…from her.

  She shrugged. “It will be good practice.”

  The last few words she uttered held the only trace of an accent he’d heard. “You’re here for me to evaluate your abilities. That’s all.”

  His edict didn’t seem to require a reply, so she gave him none.

  “What’s your background? What type of training have you had?”

  His voice seemed tired. Taz didn’t know if it was just because he was frustrated with her presence or if something more was troubling him. Fortunately, she enjoyed a mystery. “My background is Russian. I have no formal training. My father was my teacher.”

  This same meager amount of information Gray had shared told him volumes. She wasn’t qualified. “What gives Holden the idea you are Omega material? Do you have special talents that would make you worthy to be on the team? Do you shoot? Fight? Speak a dozen languages–what?”

  “Yes.” She gave one answer to all of his questions. “Test me. I am well-rounded.”

  “With pleasure.” He gave her a quick raking glance up and down. The woman wasn’t lying–she was well-rounded in several areas. Breasts. Hips. As he stared, Natasha Levin didn’t bat an eye. She certainly was a cool little cucumber. For a moment he wondered if she’d be cool in bed or a hot little wildcat. Stop. He didn’t need to know. “Tomorrow we begin. I’ll put you through your paces. Endurance. Combat readiness. Intelligence.”

  “I look forward to it,” she said simply. It was a shame this man was off limits to her, she found him to be very appealing. He stood, so she stood also.

  “Grey didn’t give me much notice. In fact, I didn’t know you were coming until you were already here.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t seem like a man who’d like surprises. Too bad. She certainly intended to surprise him.

  “So, I guess we’ll begin tomorrow at first light.”

  “All right.” She stood there as if waiting for som
ething, so he gave her a hard, questioning stare with one eyebrow raised. “Am I supposed to drive back to Austin, stay here in the house with you or sleep in my RV?”

  There was that frown again. “Stay in your RV, I guess.”

  He looked so lost and confused, Taz didn’t even bother to ask if he had hook-ups. She’d tackle those details with him tomorrow. For tonight, she’d make it. There was sufficient water in the tanks for a couple of nights, and she had food and an extra quilt. The only light she’d have was a battery powered lantern, but Taz had suffered worse. Much worse. “All right. Thank you.” She started to walk away, then stopped. “I can tell this isn’t your choice. You’re doing a favor for Mr. Holden. I just want you to know that I really want this job and I’ll be good at it. I appreciate you for giving me the chance.”

  Deacon tried not to notice those big dark eyes or the completely feminine shape she just couldn’t hide. “Don’t thank me. You won’t make the cut. As far as I’m concerned, this is a total waste of my time.”

  She gave him a curt nod. The man was entitled to his opinion. Her job was to prove him wrong.

  * * *

  Just knowing Natasha Levin was nearby worried Deacon down to a nub. He was used to being alone. He’d been alone since his wife walked out on him after he’d lost his leg. Alone was the way he liked it. If he needed sex, he had porn and an able right hand. Yet tonight, all he could do was lie here and imagine all of Levin’s soft curves beneath him as he…hell! Just knowing that sexy woman was under his roof was nearly driving him around the bend. Well, she wasn’t actually under his roof, he’d sent her back to her RV…

  To her RV, which was parked in the garage. Without electricity. Did she have a generator? Or lights? Or running water? Dammit! He didn’t want to feel remorse or guilt. He sure as hell didn’t want to feel desire. “Of all the ridiculous…” He’d just gone to bed and now he couldn’t rest. Who the hell knew he still had a conscience?

  Rising, he pulled on his prosthetic and his pants, then opened the nightstand to grab a flashlight. Padding across the hall, he walked down the stairs and out to the annex. With the push of a button, he entered the garage. Instantly a chill hit him. Damn, it was cold in here. All concrete, northern exposure, no heat. No wonder.

  Switching on the flashlight, he shone it at the RV. Total darkness. She must be asleep. Should he wake her or leave his unwanted house guest where she was until morning? He hesitated, thinking, his inborn sense of decency getting the best of him. “Damn.” Going over to the door, he banged on it.

  Bam! Bam!

  The harsh sound woke Taz instantly. She levitated from her bunk, bumping her head on the railing, instinctively going for the gun she kept under her pillow. For a flash, she didn’t know where she was or what was happening. But only for a second…

  “Levin! Get out here!” her host bellowed. Knowing the work of the group she was auditioning for, Taz assumed something was wrong. In a rush, Taz rose from her cubby hole, ripping the top sheet from the narrow mattress. This was a second hand RV and she used the bigger bedroom for storage. Everything she had in the world was contained in this rattletrap. Holding the cotton material in front of her, she dashed to the front.

  “Levin!”

  Throwing the door open, she asked. “Yes? What’s wrong? How can I help?”

  Deacon promptly forgot what he was going to say. When she’d arrived her hair had been pulled back in a tight ponytail. Now it hung in bouncy waves past her shoulders. The stark, albeit snug jeans and plain shirt were gone and a lot of touchable creamy skin was showing–shoulders, arms, the top swell of her breasts, the side of her hip. She held up a sheet, but it covered only the very bare necessities. Before he got a really good look or lost what was left of his mind, he lowered the light, leaving only her silhouette visible. Deacon had a great imagination. He had no trouble filling in the blanks and wishing he could check his answers. “It’s almost freezing! Where in hell are your pajamas?”

  “I don’t wear pajamas,” she answered simply. “I prefer to sleep in the nude. I’m naturally hot.”

  Deacon almost choked. Truer words had never been spoken. The woman was a knock-out. “Put on some clothes and get outta here.” He turned and began to walk back the way he’d come.

  This woke Taz up the rest of the way. “Are we going on a mission?” Then, the obvious struck her like a brick. “You’re making me leave? Now?”

  Deacon huffed out a resigned breath and called over his shoulder. “No, to both questions. I’m merely moving you up to the house. You can sleep in the second bedroom. I don’t call it a guest room because I don’t like guests. While you’re here, you can use it.”

  Taz smiled. Now, this was headway. “Okay. Just a moment, please.”

  “Well, hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

  She could hear more grumbling outside. He was truly the grouchiest man she’d ever met. For a moment Taz wondered why. She’d had sorrows in losing her mother and father, suffered at the hands of a man intent only on hurting her, bore more fear than a small child should ever have to do. And yet, she’d managed to keep a positive outlook on life for the most part.

  When she’d filled a small knapsack with everything she thought she’d need for the next day, Taz joined him at the door dressed only in a thigh length T-shirt, her temporary concession to nightwear. “I’m ready. Thank you.”

  He didn’t speak, just grunted, leading the way. When they were upstairs, he pointed down the hall to the left. “First door on your right. Bathroom is across the hall. Don’t make a lot of noise. Breakfast is at six-thirty. Don’t be late.”

  “Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Jones.”

  “Nothing good about it, Levin.”

  * * *

  Morning came early. Taz was excited. She beat Deacon downstairs and had breakfast waiting for him. When he joined her, he didn’t smile, just cut his eyes from her to the stove to the table.

  “This is pretty presumptuous.”

  Taz felt her heart sink. She’d wanted to gain a bit of ground with him. “I’m sorry. Try it, please. I promise it’s good.”

  Again, her accent slipped. He grimaced. How could Holden trust her? Their unit had been betrayed by one of their own. The grenade that stole his leg was tossed by a kid, but at a traitor’s direction. A traitor who’d masqueraded as a friend. After being betrayed by his wife and a friend–no wonder he had trust issues.

  She held his chair for him with a smile. If Taz thought it would work, she would try to influence him with her feminine wiles. Not that she had much, Sokolov had seen to that. Deacon Jones really was quite appealing. Pity he didn’t like women.

  “Pass the salt,” he muttered, pulling his chair to the table at the same time she tried to scoot it up. What the hell was she doing? He felt like he was on a damn date and she’d done the asking. “Levin, I have a gun in my boot. If there’s poison in this food, I promise I’ll shoot you dead before my head falls in my plate.”

  “There is no poison, and I have a weapon also.” Taking a seat across from him, Taz watched him solemnly. “If you try to harm me, I’ll protect myself.”

  Deacon snorted. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. You’re not my type.”

  “I know.”

  She took her first bite, completely unfazed. Deacon frowned. He’d lied–there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with her as far as he could see.

  They ate without exchanging another word. He looked at the coffee pot and she poured him a cup. She stared at the pepper and he passed it. He cleared his throat and she gave him the last of the bacon. Taz was pleased, they’d only been together a little while and they already had a system!

  Once they were finished, she cleared the table as he put the dishes in the dishwasher. “Hand me the skillet, I think it’ll fit in the top rack.”

  “Let me rinse it first.”

  When she handed it to him, he noticed there was something wrong with her little finger. He didn’t get a really good look, but it was obvious she
was missing half of it. “Accident?”

  Natasha glanced at him. “What?”

  “Your pinkie.”

  “Pinkie?” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, I don’t know very much American slang.”

  He wiggled his smallest digit at her. “Your little finger. Part of it is gone. Accident?”

  She balled her fist up so her deformity was less evident. “No, he did it on purpose.” Finishing as quickly as she could, she wiped her hands.

  Deacon was curious as to who would hurt someone so small and beautiful, but that was what happened when they let themselves be put into dangerous situations. He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. It didn’t matter, he’d find out all he needed to know in the interview–if they got that far. “Did you bring running shoes?”

  “Yes, I’ll have to go get them from the RV.”

  “Do it quickly, then meet me out front.” He stood there, watching her leave, unable to prevent himself from staring at a very nice looking ass. While she was gone, he replaced his daily prosthetic leg with the more light-weight flexible model he used for exercise. At least with his connection to the military he had access to the best available. Deacon chose to conceal his handicap with long pants, socks and tennis shoes. There was no reason for Levin to know. He hoped Grey or Athena hadn’t revealed his secret. They knew how he felt about it.

  When he was ready, he left the house, just taking time to check the perimeters of the property on the monitors and to grab his whistle. When he joined her, she was waiting patiently, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Despite her attempt at taming the wild mass, a few delicate tendrils hung down her neck tempting him to kiss the soft skin they were caressing. The temptation made him uncomfortable. “Why don’t you cut all that hair off? Doesn’t it get in your way?”

  “No, my father liked it. I don’t know if I’ll ever cut it,” she answered simply with no emotion on her face.

  “If you say so.” Deacon grunted. “Let’s go.” He set off at a trot, leading her several hundred yards behind the house to where a steep path dropped down to the water. There were steps cut into the stone, almost perpendicular to the river bed. When he was building up his strength, he’d run this course over and over again. He liked to think of it as productive torture. “Let’s see how you run this for fifteen minutes. Anything less and you leave today.”