Page 29 of Covert Mission
“I know, but…”
Looking at the damaged truck, he tightens his jaw. “Your team is safe, that’s all that matters.”
Evan strides over. He tips his head in my direction. “Hey, Camile. Sorry about this. The good news is those bastards didn’t hit the other truck. Looks like most of your equipment and supplies had already been unloaded from the one that got car-B-qued. I’m convinced it was just retaliation for us getting you guys away from here before they could hassle you.”
“Or a scare tactic,” Beast adds.
With my eyes narrowed, I look around, scanning the town for those damned rebels.
Beast grunts at me. “Camile, don’t even think about it.”
“Oh, I am.”
He crosses his arms and puts his broad, uncompromising wall of chest in my line of sight. “Easy, tiger.”
“Stuff it, big guy.”
His left brow goes up.
Evan snickers.
Fuming, I wave my hands around. “I’m… I’m… I might blow a gasket.”
“Take care of that, Chief,” Evan says. Then he hustles away with Beast glaring at his back.
I laugh darkly. “Smart move. It could get ugly. My head might explode.”
Beast watches me pace back and forth, cursing, scheming, until he growls at me, “Enough.”
His arms are long, because he snags me as I pass by. I try to shrug out of his hold, but he’s got a damned death grip on me.
I warn him, “You might draw back a nub.”
A flicker of amusement passes behind his cocoa eyes. Before I realize what he’s doing, he shifts closer, turning us so we’re face to face.
“Poppy. I need you to take a deep breath.”
Ugh!I bite out my reply as I try to ignore the heat from his hand on my shoulder. “Youtake a deep breath.”
My fury is like lava, bubbling up in my chest.Those assholes.
Beast’s scowl darkens. “Lock it down, Camile. It’s just a damned truck.”
“I get it,” I snap, “but it’s just wrong.”
He steps closer, getting in my space, and hinges forward until he’s right in my face. We’re nose to nose. “Not gonna argue with you about that. Now tell me what you need.”
The first thing that comes to mind comes out of my mouth. “A sheriff. A whole battalion of SWAT guys. And a bazooka.”
He smirks. “You’ve got a team of former SEALs at your disposal. Way better.”
“I do?”
“Mama!” a tiny voice calls.
I swing my eyes past Beast’s arm and spot a little girl, about five years old, running toward a woman. The mother is wearing tattered clothes. Her hair and skin are dirty. She’s been digging or working in the debris.
We watch together. The little girl runs to her mother and throws herself into loving arms. Tears clog up my throat.