Soldier For Hire. Kimberly Van Meter

curled in fists ready to swing to the death, but who didn’t, right?

      Okay, so maybe not everyone had a psych eval that read like a cautionary tale but then not everyone had seen or done the things he had in the service of the good ol’ US of A.

      Did he set the pipe bomb that killed Senator Ken McQuarry three months ago at a political rally in Tulsa? Hell, no.

      At least, he didn’t think so.

      Yeah, and that was the problem. He couldn’t actually remember that day so well.

      Sweat popped along his hairline. “You know whoever’s framing me for this has done their homework. They knew I had a background in the bomb squad. I was cherry-picked. A little too convenient, though, don’t you think? I had no motive, Rhodes.”

      He was trying to appeal to that stubborn logic locked inside Rhodes’s skull, but the redhead was like a dog with a bone—single-minded and hungry for the marrow behind the crunch. “You know me, Rhodes,” he said in one last attempt to get her to see she was fighting the wrong fight. “I mean, you really know me. Ask yourself if any of this bullshit sounds legit.”

      Xander was playing with fire. No one knew about him and Rhodes. They’d both agreed to keep it that way for the sake of their careers.

      But he had to play any card he could.

      A pregnant pause almost gave him a glimmer of hope until Rhodes said, “Doesn’t matter. It’s not my job to determine if you’re guilty or not. It’s just my job to bring you in.”

      Well, it’d been worth a try. He inched a tiny pocket mirror out so he could peer around the corner. Scarlett, looking dangerous as a coiled viper, covered in SWAT gear, her red hair pulled back in an efficient bun, her gun drawn, waited for him to make his move.

      God, she was hot.

      Even when she was determined to deliver his head on a platter.

       Sorry, Rhodes. That’s not happening today.

      Xander tucked the pocket mirror away and quietly pulled the pin on the flash bomb, lobbing it in Scarlett’s direction. The short bang and immediate smoke created cover, but it would only last a moment. Xander rolled under the smoke and popped up behind Scarlett, jerking her to him, his elbow hard across her windpipe, while the barrel of his gun pressed into the narrow opening exposing her rib cage.

      “Damn you,” Scarlett growled. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t fight fair.”

      “And why would I do that?” he asked. “Especially given the fact that whoever is trying to drag me down for a crime I didn’t commit isn’t exactly playing fair, either?”

      “What’s your move now? The building is surrounded. Your little smoke show didn’t do anything but clog up my sinuses. Congratulations, snot.”

      He chuckled. “You know, someday your sarcasm is going to put you in hot water. You’re lucky I’m not a psychopath or at the very least, a sociopath without a sense of humor.”

      “Your jokes aren’t funny.”

      “Ouch. Kitty cat has claws, but then I remember that from the scratches you left on my back.”

      “Screw you, Xander,” she bit out, her muscles tensing. He would only be able to hold her like this for a few minutes longer and she knew it. He’d sparred with her enough times to know Scarlett was deadly with her hands and feet.

      “Maybe later,” he quipped, but now wasn’t the time to trade witty banter. “Look, if you’re really interested in finding out who set that bomb, start looking in the opposite direction of where you’re being told to look. It’s the oldest trick in the book—sleight of hand—and you’re falling for it. You’re better than that, Rhodes.”

      “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job,” she growled, and he knew his time was up. As much as he hated to do it, he couldn’t very well let go of the tiger’s tail and just hope for the best. With one quick motion, he brought the butt of his gun down hard on her head, knocking her out cold.

      Her pride might sting and she was going to have one helluva headache but after a few days of rest, she’d be fine.

      Lord help him if she managed to catch him after this incident. Scarlett would likely lop off his balls just for fun.

      Scarlett opened her eyes to a fog, her vision swimming and her head in an excruciating vise. She struggled to regain her equilibrium but Xander had gotten her good.

      Damn asshole had nearly caved her skull in.

      Through her bleary vision, she realized she was being loaded into an ambulance, which meant Xander had used her as a distraction to get away.

      She swore under her breath, struggling to get up but the EMTs started saying things like “Whoa,” “Hold on, be still,” “you’ve sustained a concussion,” and she knew she was stuck with an ambulance ride to the hospital, which would only give Xander an even bigger head start.

      “I’m fine,” she protested but no one was listening. Zak Ramsey, part of her team, crowded into the ambulance beside her and she closed her eyes to stem the spinning. She didn’t want the company but that was only because she was fuming mad that Xander had gotten the drop on her and she was embarrassed.

      She was the team leader, not a rook.

      And yet, Xander had practically waltzed free from the building they’d had completely zipped up.

      Until he’d used her as bait to get away.

      “What happened?” she asked, her voice little more than an aggrieved croak.

      “We heard a single shot and came up to your location. We found you on the ground, bleeding from the head and Xander gone.”

      In spite of herself, a smile formed. “SOB fired off a shot so you’d break off to provide support, which left the exits wide open. Brilliant, actually.”

      “Well, yeah, that’s what we figured, too, once we saw that you weren’t actually shot.”

      “Xander wouldn’t have shot me,” Scarlett said. It seemed counterintuitive to say she knew Xander wouldn’t gun her down in cold blood, yet she was determined to bring him in for allegedly setting the bomb that’d killed a US senator and a handful of civilians a few months ago. She couldn’t explain it but she just knew that Xander wouldn’t do something like that to her.

      She reached up to gingerly touch the spot where he’d clocked her and she’d no doubt end up with a goose egg for her failure.

      “Why the hell are you grinning, TL?” Zak asked, confused. She didn’t blame him. The whole damn situation was confusing. Going after one of their own? Yeah, it was confusing as hell.

      “I’m smiling because he’s good,” Scarlett admitted with a rueful chuckle. “If he’d wanted to hurt me, I wouldn’t be here suffering a useless ambulance ride to the hospital. He knows protocol will demand tests to ensure I’m okay. The tests will show a minor concussion and I’ll be pulled off the case for a few days, giving him time to get that much farther away. Like I said, brilliant.”

      Zak grinned, too. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He gestured to Scarlett’s bandaged head. “I bet that hurt like a son of a bitch.”

      “It didn’t tickle,” Scarlett retorted, wincing as a wave of pain almost made her nauseous.

      “You need to try and relax,” the EMT warned, but Scarlett just rolled her eyes. She’d had worse than a bump on the head.

      To the EMT, she assured him, “I’m fine. This is just protocol. I’ll be out in a few hours.”

      The EMT disagreed. “You took a pretty hard knock.”

      “I got this,” Scarlett said, waving away the EMT’s concern to the man’s disgust. She didn’t care about hurt feelings. Returning to Zak,