The Omega Team_One Shot Read online

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Yeah? What did she say?”

  “She said—don’t.” I spun to go.

  He clamped onto my shoulder and brought me back around. “Don’t knock it until you try it.” He yanked me to his body and lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me. My knees went soft, and I collapsed against him. My palms pressed against his chest, and even through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, the heat of his body scorched me.

  No wonder Mama said don’t. One kiss and all I wanted was to “do.”

  “Davis,” Smitty said from behind us.

  Hot and lethal stepped back and smiled. “I’m going to be here for six weeks. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “Maybe,” I muttered as he turned and headed back to the bar. I stared at his enticing backside and itched to run my hands over it, feel the muscles flex under my palms.

  “Forget him.” Smitty tugged on my shoulder. “That walking erection is trouble.”

  “He’s yummy.”

  Smitty groaned.

  “What? Just because you’re a great big super lesbian doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate fine male flesh when I see it.”

  “I’m bi. I’ve told you a hundred times. I appreciate. Trust me. The boys aren’t the only ones who’ll be taking a cold shower tonight. It’s…. Never mind.” She turned and walked away.

  “It’s what?” I trotted up alongside her.

  “I don’t know. Something tells me getting involved with this guy would be bad.”

  “Duh. Any intelligent female knows he’s trouble in spades. There’s nothing wrong with using him for a little somethin’ somethin’, though.”

  “Stop thinking from between your legs for a second and concentrate on what’s happening right now in our lives. You have to be an example. All the time. Everywhere.”

  “As opposed to having salt sucked off my tits in public. You could have stopped him at any time. So don’t even try to pull the innocent card.”

  “I did it for fun and didn’t intend to take it any further. You don’t see me going home with him. I think if I’d left you kissing him a minute longer, you would’ve. We’ve no clue who he is. This isn’t our post, it’s enemy territory.”

  She had a point. Five females in the entire Army had been picked to attend this special Army sniper and infantry training. The Department of Defense was so sensitive about it, they’d placed us in an infantry unit stationed at Drum. We’d both heard rumors they were bringing in instructors, snipers with confirmed kills. The best Uncle Sam had.

  No woman in the United States military had ever been allowed into this elite field before, and it was a great honor we were picked to break ground.

  In general, we had a lot of opposition from the male element. The unit to which we’d been assigned had trained and fought together through several deployments and had some of the best NCOs and officers in the United States Army. We were trespassing in man-land. One slipup, one bad move, and we could ruin it for others. Even the shots in the bar looked like a bad thing in retrospective.

  We’d been stuck on this post for the last two weeks, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive and school to be in session. Aside from cleaning gear, dealing with inspections, filling out paperwork, and undergoing physicals and medical tests, we’d been pretty bored. We should’ve taken leave like the others, but Smitty insisted we arrive early and settle in. It had taken all of a day to accomplish, and then we were left with lots of downtime. Going out at night gave us a chance to let our hair down before the real stress began.

  We were told sniper training would be intense, and even fit males had a hard time keeping up with it. Although we weren’t at Benning with a regular cycle, they’d promised it wouldn’t be any easier. In fact, we were guaranteed it would be harder. They wanted to run their lab rats through every scenario they could drum up, to be sure women could handle it.

  Of course, if they wanted to know if women could handle it, they only needed to look to the Russians and their female snipers who served in WWII. They’d kicked serious ass. But Uncle Sammy was a bit of a chauvinist, and even though he didn’t want to admit it, he hoped we’d fail. By segregating our training, he could keep it hush-hush and his options open if we made it. The United States didn’t want women in combat arms.

  The fallout to success ratio wasn’t good with the regular class, but the Army had never put tenacious females through the program, and we were determined to show them we were better than they thought we could be.

  My background got me here. As one of a handful of people who could shoot dimes out of the air, I didn’t lack the skill. Back home, my part-time employment after school and during the summer had included playing Annie Oakley in a Wild West show out of North Platte, Nebraska. My father had been an Army sniper in Vietnam. After he got out, he bought a sporting goods store, got married, and fathered me. I lost my mother to cancer before I reached the age of two. He did the best he could and raised me like a son, taught me to shoot from the time I stood hip high to him.

  My first rifle had been a Twenty-two Chipmunk. From there, I’d graduated to bigger and better things. For my sixteenth birthday, my father bought me a Soviet SVD sniper rifle. My first love. After that, I developed a thing for guys with guns. Big guns. Accurate guns. Men who knew how to shoot turned me on. It only seemed reasonable when I graduated high school I’d join the Army, and I did.

  When my father was elected as a senator representing Nebraska, I kept my identity to myself, only sharing with those who already knew. I didn’t want favors, and I sure didn’t expect them.

  When I entered the military, I’d been disappointed to discover combat arms closed to women. It was what I’d been born and raised to do. Three-and-a-half years later, I heard Uncle Sam wanted five elite women to train as snipers. I begged my company commander to put me in for it. We were the last speed bump on the road to women’s equality in the military.

  My company commander finally caved and submitted my application after I spent three months nagging and hurtling every obstacle thrown before me. I had to re-up, attend Air Assault School, and rappel out of helicopters. I had to go Airborne. I even did some cold weather training in Alaska. They’d stuck their candidates in a light infantry squad for six months, and I’d humped enough miles to have crossed the United States from coast to coast. As the days went by, our numbers dwindled until only five women were left. We’d survived the trial by fire; now we got to jump feet first into hell.

  I’d come to realize this wasn’t just a dream, it had become an obsession, and Smitty knew as well as I how hard we’d worked to get where we were. I didn’t need to get mixed up in something stupid. So I nodded and walked back with her, silently thinking about the man who’d kissed me.

  When I got to my room, I realized I’d set my keys down in the bar. I didn’t want to explain to the charge of quarters how I’d lost them. Technically, they weren’t lost. I knew exactly where I’d left them. I crossed the hall and knocked on Specialist Smith’s door.

  “One second,” she called from the other side. She cracked the door and peeked out. “Davis? What are you doing here?” She had a towel wrapped around her body as though she was headed for the icy shower she’d alluded to earlier.

  “Nothing. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  She nodded and shut the door. I spun on my heel and stared down the hallway. Thirty minutes, tops, and I’d be at the bar, another thirty and I could hit the sack. I headed for the exit.

  ***

  I tugged the door open and stared into the smoky room. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back. Alone—even worse. I debated going in, hemming and hawing until I couldn’t stand here anymore without looking like an idiot. Finding a little spine, I finally stepped over the threshold. I could handle this. I’d walk over to the bar, retrieve the keys I’d left behind, and stroll out.

  Simple.

  Wrong.

  I skirted several of the bad boys who had witnessed my shot and slipped up
to the bar where I thought I’d left my keys. I could feel every eye in the room trained on me. My gaze swept the surface. “Excuse me,” I called to the bartender. “Did you find a set of keys?”

  The bartender shook his head, popped the lid off a bottle of beer, and set it in front of a patron. I eyed the floor. Where the hell were my keys? I hadn’t come all this way for nothing.

  A whistle behind me snagged my attention.

  Well, shit. I grabbed hold of the edge of the counter, not wanting to turn around, knowing damn good and well who had them. I had to get back to the barracks and hit my bunk. I didn’t need a confrontation with hot stuff.

  No choice. No keys—no entrance to my room. I bit my lip and faced the devil. My heart immediately jumped into my throat. There he sat, at a table in the corner, legs stretched out in front, dangling my keys from his finger.

  I swallowed, focusing on the carrot he held before me. He swung them back and forth, daring me to come and get them. Every instinct told me to run. My reasoning self told me I didn’t have time for this, and to go get them. He was one man. I could handle one man. I glanced at him again.

  Maybe not.

  He smiled and jangled them. “These yours?”

  I growled between clenched teeth. “I’ve done enough shots for tonight. I told you I have to be up early.”

  “So do I.” His eyes swept me head to toe, and I hugged my arms over my chest, feeling dirty. “Sometimes, it’s easier not to go to sleep than to doze for an hour or two. We could do something instead.”

  Just what kind of activity did he have in mind?

  “Here they are, if you want them so bad.” He tossed them in the air and caught them.

  I strode up, snatched them, and spun to leave. He snagged my wrist and yanked me into his lap. “What do you have to do tomorrow that’s so important? Cook breakfast in the mess?” He tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

  “What? Because I’m female, you assume I’m a cook?”

  “Chairbourne Ranger?” He continued to play with my hair, letting it slide between his fingers.

  “Bite me.” I knocked his hand away and moved to stand. His arm tightened around my waist.

  “I wonder where the kiss we had earlier would’ve gone.”

  “Nowhere. Let me up.”

  He released me, and I launched to my feet.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t want to find out,” he said.

  “No inclination to.” I whipped around and headed for the door.

  He jumped up and followed.

  “Go away.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  I stopped and turned, slamming into his body and close enough to kiss him again. “Stalking is creepy.” I tipped my head back and gave him my nastiest look. “You don’t want to piss me off.”

  “Honey, you wouldn’t know if I was truly stalking you.” One corner of his mouth curled up, in the kind of smile that made women drop their clothes. “I’m beginning to think I want to see this angry side. You’re awful cute when you’re flustered. A real spitfire.”

  I shoved on his chest. “And you’re drunk.”

  “No, buzzing a bit, but I’m all here.”

  “I’m leaving, and you’re leaving me alone.”

  “You’re leaving, but I’m not letting you walk out of here alone.”

  Snort. I could take care of myself. Did he really think I needed an escort? “Who do—”

  “We’ve had several rapes on this post in the last month. I’m not the creep you should be worried about.”

  I shut my mouth. I’d been ready to tell him to go to hell, but, now that he mentioned it, walking alone at this hour could get a girl into trouble on any post, and I’d been stupid enough to do it once. I sighed. “You’re not going to back off, are you?”

  “Not a chance. You have a choice. I call a cab and get you a lift to your barracks, which something tells me you don’t want anyone to see, or I walk you there. Pick.” He nodded toward the exit. “You’re safe with me.”

  Somehow, his declaration seemed like a lie. I moved off ahead of him. “Try to keep up.”

  “Why? The view’s great from back here.”

  Chapter Two

  “So, what is it you have to get up early for—that’s got your panties in a bunch?”

  “Training.”

  “This area is for infantry. What’s a woman doing here, training?”

  “You’re asking too many questions you’re not going to get the answer to, so stop. The information is on a need-to-know basis, and you don’t need to know.” I didn’t feel like hearing the speech again. A woman isn’t built for combat. They don’t have the physical strength. Nature made them different, and those differences don’t work in battle. The United States isn’t ready to see their daughters, mothers, and sisters come back in boxes. Blah, blah, blah. As if they were any more ready to see their sons come back in boxes. I think if I had to hear it one more time, I’d scream.

  “Ouch. Defensive much?”

  I stopped in my tracks and turned on him. “I’d really like to talk about something else.”

  “How’d you like kissing a girl?” His hand went up to my hair again, twisting the strands around his fingers as if he was fascinated with the texture.

  I huffed and turned to walk away, He snagged my wrist, stopping me.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I did it for the money.”

  “You’re hedging.” He reached for my hair again, and I knocked his hand away.

  “Don’t touch.” When I went into basic, my hair lay halfway down my back. The drill sergeants took us to a barber, and we got into line. I remember watching woman after woman cut it all off, some down to the skin like the high and tights the male soldiers wore. Then one of the females in front of me said something to another.

  “You don’t have to cut it. Military regulations state as long as it’s off your collar, you can have long hair.”

  So, I stepped out of line and faced off with a rabid drill sergeant. Just because I’d joined the Army didn’t mean I stopped being a woman. That day, I was the only one to walk out of the barber with hair intact. I hadn’t cut it until the week before coming here, to shoulder length. I knew if I had to play in the sandbox with the boys, they’d accept my presence better if I did more to fit in.

  Still, I missed it.

  “I like it.”

  “I need to go.” The time on my watch couldn’t be correct. Had we stood in the same spot for fifteen minutes? I hadn’t gotten any closer to the barracks and my bunk. Before I knew it, I’d be hitting the pavement for physical training, exhausted. Not a good way to start my first day in the program.

  “You still haven’t answered my question.” He continued to hold my wrist, stroking along my pulse with his thumb. The action kept me frozen.

  “I loved it. Especially the part where I ran my tongue over her tit.” I twisted out of his grasp and stared him down. Yeah, I’d lied. I really didn’t get off on it. As Smitty had said, it felt like kissing my sister.

  Desired result. I got to him. In all the wrong ways. His incredibly spooky eyes grew darker.

  Oh shit. Wrong man to provoke. I swallowed and backed away, feeling the need to get space between us. Lots of space.

  One step closed the distance. His hands slipped into my hair, and he lowered his mouth, seizing my lips before I could say a word. My heart sped up so fast I could feel it in my throat. Traitorous lips fell open to him, letting his tongue dive in. He groaned and began to back me into a space between two buildings. A dark space.

  Safe, my ass. My backside hit the building, and he intensified the kiss, devouring any resistance I’d thought to offer. His hands moved down my shoulders, to my arms, my hips. A hard tug, and I was yanked against his pelvis and very obviously hard cock.

  My stomach flipped, and, for the second time tonight, I lost my mind, forgot the risks and why I should not do what I was about to do. Damn, I wanted to screw
this guy. And from the feel of his erection pressed against my pelvis, he wanted me as much. Call it a mutual itch.

  His hand slid down my leg to the hem of my skirt. I leaned back against the building and brought one leg up, resting my thigh along his hip. His hand slipped under my skirt and palmed my ass, pulling me tighter to him.

  He broke the kiss and whispered in my ear. “God. I want to fuck you.”

  “Please.”

  He groaned and squeezed my backside. “Can’t. I don’t have a condom.”

  Crap. Neither did I.

  “Then what do you want to do?”

  He smiled.

  Wrong question. I’d been full of them tonight.

  He dropped to his knees and shoved my skirt up to my waist and skimmed along my panties. “Somebody’s soaked.” He ripped my thong off, shredding the delicate silk. “I think thongs should be standard issue, military skivvies. Don’t you?” His hand slid along the inside of my thigh and then probed my pussy. “Easy access.”

  “Oh,” I gasped. “Easy.” My knees gave way, and heat rolled through my body, setting my thighs to quivering. I moaned and leaned back against the building, unable to stand otherwise. He lifted my leg and placed it over his shoulder.

  “Try to keep it down. Noise carries great in the dark, and the walls of these old barracks are thin.”

  That’s when his lips moved along my thigh. A combination of rough whiskers and soft, wet heat. Oh God. His tongue. I fisted his T-shirt as his tongue slipped in where a finger withdrew.

  “You taste sweet, like honey.” He dived in licking, sucking, cramming his soft wet tongue where I needed it most. My legs shook, and I whimpered, biting my lip to silence the cry building in my throat. “I’ve got to have you.” He spread me open. His tongue worked deeper.

  “God, baby. You’re beautiful.” He flicked my clit.

  “Christ!” I bucked against him and yanked on his shirt, trying to steady myself.