Flint’s Battle (Team KOA Bravo #3)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Crazy.

That’s what she was. Certifiable.

Because a sane person wouldn’t be sitting beside the one man who made her pulse tap triple time just from being in the same room. And yet, here she was, a foot away, as Flint drove her Jeep along the highway toward her cottage — soft music playing in the background. Some spicy male essence filling the cabin — citrus with a hint of cottonwood. The kind of scent she knew would linger long after he’d left.

She’d nearly tripped when he’d placed his hand on the small of her back. As if he was afraid she’d fall. Which, hell, she might have. Not from the crack to her head but the instant billow of heat through her core from the soft slide of his fingers against her shirt. So strong it had dimmed the edges of her vision. Had her wondering if maybe she did have a concussion. Even now, she felt the ghosted pressure where his palm had been, as if he’d left some kind of emotional brand.

She was definitely crazy.

Flint tapped her thigh, smiling when she snapped her gaze to him. “Do I want to know why you’re so quiet? Because I’m starting to think I should turn this Wrangler around and take you back to Kian.”

He held up his hand. “How many?”

Emery snorted, hating the fact it sent a jolt of pain through her cheek and into her temples. “Three, wise ass. And no, we don’t need to go back to Ohana’s. I’m fine.”

“You know you have a tell, right?”

“Shut up. I do not.”

“You definitely have a tell. And no, I’m not going to tell you what it is because you’ll try to change it. You’re hurting, sweetheart.”

Emery paused at the endearment. He hadn’t let anything like that slip before, though based on the way his lips pursed, he hadn’t meant to let it happen this time, either. Though she had to admit, the way it rolled off his tongue — all gravely and low — made her chest tighten until she wondered if he’d somehow sucked out all the oxygen in the Jeep and turned the heat up full blast.

“Of course, I’m hurting. I let some preppy asshole land a punch. But I’m fine. More pissed off than anything.” She tilted her head, admiring the strong line of his jaw and how the occasional streetlight emphasized the blue in his eyes. The man was dangerously handsome. “And thanks, by the way. For having my back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone cross a bar that fast, let alone vault over a table. You’re impressive.”

Flint sighed as if he wasn’t sure he deserved the compliment. “I should have realized that bastard had backup when he kept challenging you. No way he was taking you on alone, again, after you handed him his ass. Talk about impressive. You didn’t even blink. Fucker’s lucky you didn’t lock him up.”

Flint gave her a quick glance. “You’re far too nice.”

Emery chuckled. “Trust me. It’s not worth the paperwork. Though, knowing those other assholes are gonna sit there with Kian and the others staring them down until closing warms my heart, just a bit.”

“I doubt they’ll be back anytime soon, though, you might have put a target on your back.”

“I hunt murderers and crime lords for a living. Those redneck boys are welcome to try.”

Had his right eye twitched? And had the engine revved or had he growled? Because something low and raspy had rumbled through the cabin.

Flint tightened his hold on the steering wheel. “Kian’s right. You’re unique. Speaking of which, I was hoping?—”

A blast of static cut him off followed by a voice coming over her radio. “Delta Sierra Two this is dispatch. You out there, McClane?”

Emery groaned, giving Flint a shake of her head as she grabbed the mic. “You’ve obviously pinged my GPS, Barry, since you know I’m not on call tonight.”

Barry chuckled. “Busted. And I know it’s a rare night off, but I need you to do me a huge favor.”

“You always need me to do you a huge favor. In fact, you owe me so many, it’s gonna take years for you to pay them all back.” She paused for a moment. “What’s up?”

“It’s Mr. Snider. He’s made six calls in the last hour claiming those lights are going on and off in the factory again. He seems convinced people are moving crates in and out.” Barry sighed. “I’d send a unit over to check, but I’ve got a MVA buggering everything up on the north end, a bunch of college kids mooning tourists on the east side, and vice is on a stakeout. And as I recall, Mr. Snider is sweet on you. Never seems to call back if you go and talk to him.”

“That’s because I don’t treat the man as if he’s crazy just because he’s in his eighties. Sure, his eyesight is questionable, and he watches way too many political thrillers, but he’s not crazy. More lonely than anything.”

“So, is that a yes? I promise, I’ll bring you those salted caramel latte drinks you love every day for a week.”

“Do you really think I’m that easy to bribe?”

“Everyone has a weakness, and you down those things like they’re crack.” Barry grunted. “Fine. I’ll throw in a muffin.”

Emery snorted. “Promise they’ll be the maple sugar ones and not those banana walnut ones that only you like, and I might consider it.”

“A latte and a muffin every day for the next week.”

“Deal. But you’ll still owe me.”

“Thanks, Emery. You’re the best. Give me a shout when you’re done, so I don’t worry.”

“Just call the man back, and tell him I’ll be there in five so he’s expecting me.”

“Roger.”

Flint gave her a quick glance. “So, you’ve been holding out on me. You didn’t say I have competition. Mr. Snider, huh?”

He had competition? Had Flint actually said that? Out loud? Because she’d been waiting for him to ask her out since the first night they’d met, but he’d kept things strictly platonic. To the point she was starting to think she’d read everything wrong, and she was the only one who was slowly melting into a puddle of lust.

She gave herself a mental shake. He was obviously joking. Though, based on the predatory gleam in his eyes, it didn’t seem as if he was kidding. In fact, it looked as if he intended on staking his claim, and with more than just the offer to drive her home.

“Emery? Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

She groaned inwardly. Now he thought she was hurt, again. “Fine. And Mr. Snider is quite the catch. He’s also ex-military, so…”

Flint smiled, and god, the way his face lit up. It took him from handsome to stunning in a heartbeat. “Ex-military, huh? I can work with that. Especially, if it means you’ve got a type. What’s his address?”

She had a type?

The man was going to give her whiplash with how quickly he was changing gears.

She brought up the map on her nav and typed in his address. “It’s a small cottage that overlooks an abandoned factory. It’s a popular spot for fraternities to send their new pledges for the night. And they often bring stuff with them. But I don’t want to discount anything just because the last dozen claims turned out to be nothing. He might be getting up in years, but the man’s still sharp.”

“Which is why he’s sweet on you. It’s like I said. You’re extremely good at your job.”

“Let’s hope you still think that when it turns out to be toga-wearing frat boys with coolers of beer.”

Flint laughed, the low rasp rumbling through her chest. Maybe she did have a head injury and was imagining the increased sexual tension between them. Because she swore he’d never been this invested before.

Flint pulled into Snider’s driveway, parking the Jeep off to one side. She’d barely gotten her seatbelt unclipped before he was opening her door for her — offering his hand.

She arched a brow but slid her palm across his when he simply stood there, waiting. “I’m not going to fall.”

“Then, I’ll hold your hand because I can.”

“You’re acting weird. Are you sure I’m the one who got hit in the head?”

“Wanting to hold your hand is weird?”

“It is when you haven’t wanted to hold it before.”

Flint sighed then leaned in. “Believe me. I’ve wanted to hold it since the night we met. But that’s a different story. So, let’s get this meeting over with, and then we can talk about it over coffee. If you’re game.”

He’d wanted to hold her hand since they’d met? And had he just asked her out on a date? Because coffee was still a date, wasn’t it?

She must have nodded because he smiled, then nudged her forward, following her to the door. He didn’t let go, motioning for her to knock with her other hand.

Not that she needed to when the door cracked open a moment before she’d raised her arm. An elderly man with white hair and strong features stared through the small sliver of space, eyeing her and Flint.

Emery smiled. “Mr. Snider. It’s Detective McClane. Do you remember me?”

He squinted, then his weathered face lifted into a bright smile. “Detective McClane. I’m so glad they sent you. You’re the only one who ever listens.” He closed the door, rattled the chain lock then opened it wide, frowning when he made eye contact. “What happened to your cheek?”

“I had to set a guy straight.”

“You seem to have to do that a lot.” He waved them inside.

She stepped into the nicely appointed room as she motioned to Flint. “Mr. Snider this is Flint O’Connell. Flint, this is Master Sergeant Henry Snider, retired.”

Flint shook Henry’s hand. “Honored to meet you, Master Sergeant.”

Henry eyed Flint, giving him a thorough once-over before nodding toward the large window in the living room. “There’s something you should see.”

Flint winked at her when she gave him a quick glance before trailing after Henry. The man walked over to a telescope he had positioned near the window, pointing to the factory in the distance.

Emery stopped next to it. “Dispatch said you saw some people carrying crates into the old Wilson factory?”

“There were three or four of them. Big guys, like your fella, over there. And it took two of them to carry the crates. See for yourself…”

Emery peered through the scope, panning the grounds when she spotted a flash of light. She stopped, adjusting the focus until the image sharpened. A second beam pierced the darkness then vanished, only to appear in the next window.

She straightened, motioning for Flint to have a look. “Tell me if you see something on the second floor, west side.”

Flint leaned over, his massive form taking up all the space. She thought about stepping back — giving him more room — but there was something inherently calming about having him close. All that strength no more than a breath away. “Those are flashlight beams. No doubt about it. At least two.”

He looked over at Henry. “How big do you think those crates were?”

Henry scrunched up his face for a moment. “At least double the standard issue trunk.”

“That’s… disconcerting. And did you see how many crates they carried in?”

“I counted three, but they could have taken more in before I noticed the lights.”

Flint met her gaze. “Still think it’s some frat boys with beer?”

Emery shrugged. “I think it’s worth checking out.” She walked over to Henry. “Thanks for the tip. And you can rest assured that whatever they’re up to, I’ll take care of it.”

Henry snagged her arm when she went to dart past. “You’re taking Flint with you, right?”

She focused on Flint, noting the way his eyes had narrowed and his lips were pressed tight. “He’s not a police officer.”

“Maybe not, but he’s Navy, isn’t he?”

Flint chuckled. “How did you know?”

Henry waved the question off. “Son, I spent forty years in the Marine Corps. I’d recognize a sailor anywhere. And you’ve got the look. But you’re no regular squid, are you? You’re one of those specialty guys. Black Ops.”

“I’m impressed, Master Sergeant. Emery was right. You’re one of a kind.”

“Detective McClane’s one of the best. And I expect a man of your caliber to have her back.”

Flint glanced at her. “Count on it.”

Emery eased free, taking a few steps away. “If you boys are done talking about me as if I’m not in the room, we’ll be going. And Henry… You might want to try looking at the stars with that telescope instead of the factory.”

She made a beeline for the door, nodding at Henry before closing it. She waited until she heard the lock click into place then headed for her Jeep.

Flint didn’t ask any questions as he climbed in then reversed, following the road down toward the factory. He stopped far enough back the headlights didn’t give them away, shoving the stick into first.

Emery grabbed the mic. “Dispatch, this is Delta Sierra Two.”

“Delta Sierra Two, dispatch.”

“Hey, Barry. I’m at the Wilson factory. Can you put a thirty-minute timer on for me? There’s definitely someone inside.”

“Roger, McClane. You okay on your own?”

“You’ll be the first to know if I’m not. McClane out.”

Flint accompanied her to the rear of her Jeep, watching as she opened the tailgate and grabbed her gear.

She gave him a quick glance, shaking her head as she donned her vest. “You’ve got that look, Flint.”

He leaned against the back quarter panel. “What look?”

“The one that says you’re gearing up for a fight.”

“You really don’t expect me to stay here while you go in there alone, do you?”

Emery sighed, pausing to clip a flashlight on her belt. “You’re active military.”

“Technically, I’m on leave.”

“Which won’t lessen the shitstorm you’ll be in if you go in there with me and have to defend yourself. And we’re not just talking your career. You could go to jail.”

Flint shuffled closer. “If the choices are my ass in jail or your ass in the morgue, I’ll take the brig.”

“Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“Emery.” He snagged her hand, lifting it then holding it against his chest. “You’re skilled and brave, and I know you can handle yourself. But everyone needs backup. Henry said he saw at least three guys — probably four. And sure, this could still be some frat prank, but what if it’s not? How the hell am I supposed to look at myself in the mirror if you go in there without someone watching your six and you get hurt? And that’s ignoring the fact you’re already physically compromised.”

He held up his hand when she went to reply. “Whether you’ve got a concussion or not doesn’t change the fact you took a blow to the head.” He kicked at the pavement. “Besides, I promised Henry I’d have your back. We both know he’s watching us, so… Are you really going to make me break a promise to a Marine?”

“If we go in there and it’s more than just some frat boys, you breaking a promise will be the least of my concerns. And how am I supposed to look at myself in the mirror if shit goes sideways and you’re the one who ends up in the morgue?”

“As long as you’re still breathing, I’ll take it.”

“Flint…”

“I’ll follow your lead. And I promise not to shoot anyone unless it’s life or death.”

“SEALs.” Emery grabbed her extra vest out of the box, holding on tight when he went to take it. “If you’re going to come along you have to promise to stay out of sight, let me do the talking, and for god’s sake don’t get shot.”

She released the vest when he nodded. “It’s the biggest I have, but it’s still gonna be tight on you.”

“Tight beats nothing.” He waved his fingers at her once he had the Velcro secured. “Weapon.”

She cursed, handing him her nine-millimeter along with a few extra mags. “Only life or death, and if you have to fire, you didn’t actually fire. I did. Got it?” She checked her backup weapon, cycling a round. “I just know I’m going to regret this.”

Flint grinned, then leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I promise to behave.”

“Tell me the rules.”

“Stay hidden, don’t talk, and don’t die.” He gave her a wink, the jerk. “Oh, and I wasn’t really here.”

“Wise ass.” She handed him a spare flashlight. “You ready? Clock’s already ticking, and the last thing I need is half the force showing up because we were slow.”

“Lead the way. I’ve got your six, sweetheart.”