Artful Dodger (SEAL Team Alpha #13) - Zoe Dawson Page 0,28

the possibility of it and the taking of life. His job in the SEALs, more than any other aspect of his life, was black and white. Avoid civilian casualties, protect and rescue American citizens, stop injustices, and fight wars that no one wanted to fight. Kill the people who were evil. Special Forces weren’t called special for nothing. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

He picked up his pace, separating from her.

“Oliver, wait.”

He grabbed her into his arms so fast, she gasped. She was shivering and his gut clenched at how close that bullet came to her, the agonizing moments when she’d been unconscious, not breathing. He’d gladly strangle that prick with his bare hands for what he’d done. Pulling her against him, he cradled her head close to his chest and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Not here. Not now, Anna.” It was a fierce order, not a request.

“But Dodger.”

“I know what you think.” His voice was harsh from his emotions. A protective sensation rolled over him, clutching at his heart. Gritting his teeth, he tried to squash the reaction, a thick ache in his throat. He knew the score. Anna was a CIA officer, no girl scout. She was in danger everywhere she went. So, she might not have had to kill often in the field, but it was a stark reality.

“No, you don’t, but I’ll drop it for now,” she snapped. The look she sent him was full of frustration, anger, and sadness. It wasn’t lost on Dodger that anger ran strong in the Keegan family. He’d been on the bad end of Max’s temper often enough to know it was just best to leave well enough alone.

They headed back to the square and settled into the car. His arm hurt. He must have been skinned, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Anna was shivering so he jacked up the heater.

He drove back to Mouse’s listening station.

Inside, Mouse was at the counter in the kitchen. He put a mug to his lips. “Why are you guys wet?”

“We took a dip in the Vltava River. It was quite refreshing.”

Anna didn’t say a word. She went into her room and slammed the door.

“Oh, ho, what’s up?”

“Anna and I don’t talk. We usually have arguments. She gets mad.”

Mouse shrugged. “Women. What’s going on with her anyway? You two…you know.” He waggled his brows.

“No, Mouse. We’re not…you know.” Dodger’s voice was rough with bitterness. “At least not yet. Besides, that’s none of your bleeding business.”

“She’s CIA?”

“Yes.”

“So how do you know her?”

“She’s a teammate’s sister.”

“I get it. The bro code.”

“Yeah, that’s it, and it’s Mad Max.” Dodger had shown Mouse a picture of his team and told him a bit about each of them.

“Oh, wow. Yikes. That’s one big dude.” He took another sip of his coffee. “She’s also drop-dead gorgeous. So, you’re going to cross the line.”

Dodger stiffened. Bollocks, the man was right. He’d already crossed the line. He felt guilty, but on the whole, she was so amazing, the guilt ebbed and flowed.

Mouse looked up at Dodger from the rim of his cup. “I’m just mentioning it because, well, she is.”

“Stop talking, Mouse,” Dodger growled. Actually, snarled was more like it.

Mouse grinned. “Yeah, I knew it. You got it bad. Who wouldn’t?”

Dodger pulled the iPads out of his pocket and slapped them into Mouse’s hand. “We’ll talk in a bit. I need to shower and change. We have to get out there again.”

He went into his designated room and pulled off his shirt, hissing suddenly. He looked down at his arm. The wound was a short, swollen channel still oozing blood. He toed off his wet boots and socks, shimmied out of his sodden boxer briefs and pants, then jumped into the shower. The hot water felt good, however brief.

He dried off, slapped a bandage over his wound, and got dressed in a pair of black cargo pants, a red shirt, and a warm, black hoodie, then slipped his feet into socks and a new set of black boots.

He came out of the room and Anna was sitting at the table eating some eggs. Mouse was sitting across from her, grinning at something she said.

His heart squeezed, and he remembered all too well the moment he’d walked in on Hermione and her lover. A feather could have knocked him over, and the pain of it skewered him again, his mouth tightening.

Anna tore him up like none other. He had no explanation for the way he felt

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