Page 68 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
Or fuck.
“Nothing to say then, recruit?” Janet asks, sounding a hell of a lot like Hawke. I figure she’s probably had to put up with a ton of misogynistic shit in her day, to get to where she is, so I let it go.
I also see right away why they would never work together.
They’re the same person, exactly the same person. And two Hawkes does not a good relationship make.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, choking the words out, even if they catch in my throat and turn to ash. Arsen chuckles as he slips around us, adding yet one more crate to the trailer that’s already attached to Hawke’s navigator.
“Next time, save your orgies for after the mission,” Janet snaps, letting just a bit of her temper and jealousy shine through. It lasts a split-second, and then it’s gone; she’s all business again.
She’d have to be, to survive in this world alone.
Luckily for me, I’ve found friends.
Or fuck-buddies.
But still.
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeat as Hawke leans down next to my ear. I can’t see him, but I can feel his smirk it’s so damn intense.
“Look how submissive you can be to another woman; I’m almost jealous. Maybe I’ll fuck a few more of our female superiors, just to keep you on your toes?” I grit my teeth as he stands up and moves around to the driver’s side door, but I don’t lash out.
I can’t do that anymore.
When it comes down to Blackbirch business, I have to follow orders.
“I wish I could say it gets easier over time,” Mace rumbles, helping me into the same strap and rifle I wore when we went deer hunting. It feels ominous somehow, putting on the same gear I used to make my first kill. And today, at some point, I’ll be making another one—a very human one.
“Wish you could say what gets easier?” I ask as I check and double check the knives in my boots, the ones strapped to my thighs, the guns on my hips. I’m wearing Kevlar and black cargo pants, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a helmet, like I’m a member of SWAT or something. I didn’t think I’d feel sexy in this outfit, but I do. And it’s not because it’s physically attractive; it’s the way it makes me feel.
“Following orders,” Mace says, exhaling slightly, his voice a growling rumble. “It never gets easier. You just have to ask yourself: do you want the burden and responsibility? Because if you don’t, then you shut up and do what you’re told—but only if you trust your leader the way I do Hawke.”
I nod and then let him squeeze my small hand in one of his big ones. Even if I were unsure about Hawke or Arsen, I’m not unsure about Mace. And Mace trusts Hawke. That’s enough for me.
Janet climbs into the front seat as Hawke gets behind the wheel; the rest of us file into the back two rows.
Arsen lights up a cigarette in the backseat, even as Hawke snarls curses under his breath.
“Smoke that fucking thing out the window, or I’ll knock your teeth out after we’re finished with this mission.”
Arsen rolls his eyes, but lets the window down a crack. Just a crack. He doesn’t make much effort to blow the smoke away from Hawke’s shiny leather interior.
“Let’s get this over with, so we can find Konstantin and skull fuck him with a pistol. I’m going to use his lube as blood.”
“I see that you’re still running your team like a circus,” Janet quips, making a note on her iPad. “You’re lucky this is an active duty assessment for Colt, and a new member assessment for Natalia, and not a team evaluation. You’d already be in the red, by the way.”
Hawke clenches his jaw, but says nothing.
Janet is his superior, and even though he’s a supreme asshole, he’s also made for this life. He’d get nowhere if he didn’t follow his own orders.
We drive for almost an hour in silence, but I’m pretty sure Colt and West are passing notes in the backseat. It’d be cute if I wasn’t sweating bullets, sitting between Arsen and Mace, my mind already running through every possible way this could go wrong.
“Don’t do that,” Arsen snaps, drawing my attention over to the sharp but handsome features of his face. He gestures at me with a freshly lit cigarette, and even though he’s scowling as per usual, I think he’s trying to be helpful, too. “Don’t think about how you might fuck it up. Assume you won’t, and stride in like you’re bulletproof. Fear is your worst goddamn enemy.”
I just stare at him, shocked that a useful piece of advice actually came from his crazy (yet beautiful) mouth. But he turns away from me, finishing his cigarette without even bothering to acknowledge that we just had a moment.
