Page 68 of Under Control

“Come on,” he said, turning to leave.

Danica, like a little lamb, followed her wolf down the hardwood stairs, entering the great room. A man she recognized sat at the edge of the living room in the chair, his hands clasped together with a serious look on his face.

The driver.

“Danica,” Carrick announced her as she moved into the space, and he ushered her to sit on the couch, adjacent to the driver.

Casually, Carrick picked up and threw a blanket over her lap to keep her warm—or to keep his friend’s eyes off her bare legs. Meanwhile, the driver grinned like a coyote as he watched her—but not in a salacious way like Carrick looked at her.

“I’m Delta,” the driver explained as Carrick moved to the kitchen. “We met before.”

“Hi,” she replied, as if it was the only word she knew that morning.

“You living here now?” Delta asked lightly, like he was making casual conversation.

She looked at him, trying to find the right words, and she observed the long scar that ran up the side of his cheekbone.

Delta, seeming not to notice, looked back and forth between her and Carrick. A little mortified, Danica clutched the robe tighter and slouched down in the sofa—wishing like hell she could just disappear. What was she doing there? She kept her eyes away from the spot where she’d left a big orgasmic stain from the night before.

Carrick then brought over a steaming coffee, handing it to Danica, and nodded to Delta. “When it’s done, notify me. Don’t answer any calls.”

Any calls?Danica’s mouth parted as she took the hot mug from Carrick. Her mind once again started piecing together all the evidence she had before her, pointing to the fact that they were in boiling water.

“Roger that, Moose,” Delta acknowledged, standing up to adjust his belt and looking down on Danica.

Carrick turned on his heels and grabbed a sweater off the edge of the couch, throwing it over his black T-shirt and army green modern-cut cargo pants.

Moose?She found her lips forming the word, wondering if that was Carrick’s nickname. There was so much she didn’t know about him.

“It’s a call sign,” Delta explained it to her, recognizing her curiosity. “They stick with you, unfortunately. Just have to hope you don’t end up with a shitty one.”

Carrick turned around after throwing his wallet and phone into his hoodie pockets and nodded curtly to Danica with the appearance of goodbye, alarming her. She shifted forward in her seat, realizing he was getting ready to leave.

Where is he going?

Her lips parted as she held the mug, but something about the two men looming kept her quiet. She wasn’t used to being with these kinds of men.

As Carrick started marching toward the stairs leading down to the main floor, Delta asked, “And what about her?”

Carrick didn’t look back, but his voice carried as he moved down the stairs. “Keep her safe.”

All Danica heard was‘keep her quiet’.

After Carrick marched out through the garage door then turned on the loud engine of his truck and pulled away, Danica found herself alone with Delta.

“I cook, you clean?” He shot her a wild grin.

She shyly nodded, feeling more shaken than she wanted to admit. She flitted her gaze to the beach outside and had the sudden urge to run.

To follow Carrick.

Delta gave her a questioning look, as if he saw something curious in her. She realized then that she’d been so consumed by Carrick that she hadn’t really paid attention to Delta. He was just as tall, but a little more charismatic—straight, slicked-back dark-blond hair and deep brown eyes. A little more playful. A startling white, straight smile. Likable. Relaxed. He held himself like a hero but had the gaze of someone who knew how to get into trouble, someone who didn’t always play by the rules.

Danica found herself wondering if a tendency for rogue antics ran through the blood of special operators—or if it was just her luck.

“I’m not holding you prisoner, you know,” Delta broke into her thoughts, searching her.

It was clear that the man wanted—or needed—to know exactly what she was thinking.

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