Mercenaries 1 Private Skirmish by Anne Kane Page B

too much as it is, which is why you sleep alone most of the time.” Dee smiled fondly at the dark-skinned man. Jackson would move mountains if he thought anyone were going to hurt her. He treated her like an annoying little sister. All the guys did, but when things got tough they knew they could count on her to hold up her end of the fight.
    Kaeden pulled a large knife out of his boot. “Hold still.” Using the tip of the knife to pry, he broke the collar open and pulled it off her neck. Tossing it on the ground, he ground it into the pavement with the heel of his boot. “Get in the vehicle, and get it moving. This place leaves a sour taste in my mouth.” Kaeden climbed into the Hummer, grasping Dee’s wrist to pull her in beside him.
    “Aye, Sarge.” Jason Tremble, a.k.a. “Snake,” dropped the vehicle into gear and pulled smoothly out of the lot. “Back to the bunker, or do we need to make a pit stop for food? The princess looks like she could use a good meal or two.”
    Dee felt heat stain her cheeks. She’d been so busy chasing down leads on her sister’s disappearance these last few weeks, she’d been skipping meals. She hadn’t realized that it was so obvious.
    “We can feed her better at home base. Just get us there before I’m tempted to go back in there and start a riot. I hate these damn auctions.” Kaeden’s voice was gruff, and his fingers were still wrapped loosely around Dee’s wrist.
    She sighed, forcing herself to relax. This wasn’t so bad. The team still thought of her as one of them. They were pretending nothing had changed. That she hadn’t quietly snuck out one night and left them all behind.
    * * *
    “You haven’t done a thing with this place since I left!” Dee turned in a complete circle, taking in the beige walls devoid of anything that might personalize the room. “Good grief. How hard would it be to hang a picture or two?”
    “Why would I want to hang a picture?” Kaeden stripped off his shoulder holster and tossed it on the bed. Next came the knife strapped to the inside of his leg, and the gun snuggled into the back of his pants. That was Kaeden, a walking ammo dump.
    She plopped herself down on his bed and crossed her legs while she watched him. Although she’d never admit it aloud, just the sight of him sent little curls of heat skittering through her veins. Six and a half feet of tightly muscled male with golden curls tied back with a strip of leather, he reminded her of a picture of the Norse Vikings she’d once seen in a museum. He was the natural leader of the group of mercenaries, and he took his position seriously. He’d been the sergeant of Zebra Company during the provincial wars, and when his side lost the war he’d organized a mercenary group out of the soldiers that had nowhere left to go.
    The group had its own agenda, though, and only took on contracts that they felt were worth fighting for. They made enough to survive on, and not much else. Not the most lucrative way to run a company, but then, money didn’t mean a lot to people who’d seen everything they believed in blown to bits. For a government who claimed its only agenda was to look after the people, it sure had a high body count.
    Kaeden opened the gun locker, wiping each piece lovingly before storing it in its spot. The guy was anal about his weapons. After he’d closed the locker door, he turned his full attention on her. “So now do you want to tell me what in the hell you were doing getting arrested across the provincial border?”
    That mild tone of voice didn’t fool Dee one bit. He was pissed, and that just pissed her off. He had no right to question what she did, or why. She was a grown woman with her own credits. They had been lovers, but that was all. He had absolutely no rights over her. She tilted her head, her chin held defiantly high. “No. Now if you don’t mind, just sign my freedom papers and I’ll be on my way.”
    The curve of his lips didn’t inspire confidence.