Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

WILDER

Someone turned off the volume and hit pause.

One second, I was following Matt's gaze, my stomach dropping as I turned towards where Valeria stood, her chin squared and defiance in her eyes while a gun was held to her temple, and the next, it was like a vacuum sucked the air from the open space of blood and carnage.

My reaction snowballed.

Kent, who'd saved my arse, froze, her grip on her gun tightening. Michaels, who was to my right, enacted a similar pattern.

Thank fuck Hornell's minions seemed to do the same—relaxing their stances at some silent order.

Matt was frozen, his body deathly still, the guns in his hands hanging limply at his sides.

"It's amazing the power someone can wield when they have the means and the foresight."

My nostrils twitched, the side of my lips struggling not to lift into a snarl. I'd only seen old photographs of the man before me, taken when he'd been a captain. What none of them had captured was the cruelty in his gaze, nor had they conveyed the instability.

"Now that I have your attention, why don't you all take a moment to hand your weapons to my team." Hornell flicked his gaze from Matt to me before settling on one of the women in his detail.

As one, his team approached us. Each step they took sent throbs of tension through every cell in my body. I cast a look at Callen, watching his reaction. With Matt's back to me, I had no way of knowing what the play was here.

Someone reached Callen first; he stood there, not moving, not speaking. A miracle, perhaps, since he wasn't known for keeping his mouth shut. What he didn't do was hand over his gun.

Hornell, watching the exchange, tilted his head slightly. Another woman, a bear shifter, approached Matt, stopping when she stood before him with her palm outstretched.

Goose bumps broke free on my skin, my muscles tensing, ready to move, ready to rain down hell.

All it took was a slash of Maya's knife down Valeria's cheek, and Matt's shoulders sagged as he released his hold on the gun, relinquishing it into the bear's hand.

Fuck. It couldn't end like this.

Valeria didn't flinch or cower, her ramrod straight back along with her sneer making it clear how pissed off she was.

Yet still, none of us spoke.

I didn't "speak" SICB, not having any clue what the team would be thinking, would be planning. In my old unit, the team on the ground had protocols for this. Frustration bubbled through me. I should have asked. Hell, I should have been told.

When both the ITU and Tarka's security team handed over their weapons, I had no choice but to give up my two guns. As one of Hornell's shifters patted me down, I growled, unable to rein in the snarl.

Hornell tutted, a wide grin appearing and aimed at me. "Here's what's going to happen," he said, his finger resting on the trigger.

I straightened up, dropping my growl, holding back a victorious shiver of awareness when the shifter stepped away from me, having not found the two blades I'd squirreled away in my back pockets.

"Wilder will come with me and hand over the schematics that I previously asked for so politely."

I assumed "polite" was synonymous with "red-hot poker."

"At this stage in this tiresome cat-and-mouse game we're playing, honestly, I expected better from all of you. So it ends here. Wilder, you will come with me. In exchange, Vance will?—"

Two things happened simultaneously. A hole appeared on Hornell's forehead and a knife landed in Maya's chest.

Then carnage.

I grabbed my blades and launched both into the shifter's neck who'd patted me down. He dropped immediately as a barrage of shots, groans, and splatters of blood from flying daggers rent the air.

Ringing deafened me, my adrenaline on overtime as I picked up my guns and spun, searching for another target. Heavy pants tore out of me, my eyes widening as I saw our team upright, on high alert as they studied the terrain, dead bodies at our feet.

"There were a couple of vehicles that broke away earlier. Check if they're around," Tarka ordered.

Three members of his unit broke free, their guns back in their hands, their expressions fierce.

I followed their movements, not quite trusting what had happened. I hadn't even seen who'd made the shot or hit their mark.

Callen said, "Seriously, how fucking hard is it to get someone's name right? Piece of shit." He shook his head in disgust and stowed away his gun.

Apparently, the threat was over, and I suspected Callen hit the bull's-eye with his shot to Hornell's head.

Then who?—

Matt was moving, racing towards his daughter, then tugging her into a fierce hug. He palmed the back of her head as she held on tightly while he whispered something I deliberately refrained from listening in on. I stood back, my chest tight, struggling to process everything.

I hadn't taken a life in years. And that had only been once. As a cyber security specialist, it didn't exactly call for death and mayhem. Blood, still wet on my hands, felt uncomfortable. At least earlier when it had been encrusted in my beard, I hadn't been able to see the mess I was in. I needed a shower and to process and to hold on to Matt and lose myself in his heat and his kisses and his?—

I swallowed hard. That wasn't the plan. I'd promised to be on the next plane out of here when all of this was over.

Wiping my hands on my borrowed jeans, I looked up when Matt's movement caught my attention. He released Valeria and bent down towards Maya's still form. My eyes widened when he tugged free the knife, wiped it clean on his black pants, and pocketed it in a small sheath on his belt.

Holy fuck.

That shouldn't be hot, only because the whole killing someone definitely shouldn't be sexy. But from the flutter in my chest and the inappropriate thickening of my cock, it didn't seem like I'd got the memo.

His gaze snapped up, landing on mine, ensnaring me.

My breath whooshed out. Need. Desire. Confusion. Each emotion I was sure I saw in the depth of his piercing gaze could have been my own.

"Callen, make the call to Durrant." The cool order spilled out of Matt with clear, practiced ease. "Kent, get your drone overhead and help check for stragglers, then get this mess recorded."

Reminded, with undeniable certainty, that Matt was absolutely Team Leader Agent Lucas in this moment, I stared on, marvelling at the change before me. This was undoubtedly the man I'd first met, giving out concise orders, asking for things from his team, who wouldn't hesitate to follow his requests. Even Callen.

He continued dishing out instructions. At some point he'd found a first-aid kit, and he was now wiping a disinfectant pad over Valeria's face. While disgruntled and, I suspected, a little embarrassed at the attention, she seemed to take his care in good stride, only rolling her eyes a little.

Then there was me, standing here like a fish out of water with no clear direction and feeling out of my depth. I wasn't part of this team, didn't have a leader, a direction.

I edged away towards one of the vehicles, an uncomfortable ache in my chest. As I walked, the two units around me worked with loud, chatty precision. The jokes were perhaps macabre considering the destruction and death, but I understood it—their relief that this was over, their joy that they were alive and had survived the confrontation relatively unscathed.

When I reached one of the vehicles with the boot open, I grabbed for a small first-aid kit. Blood oozed out of slashes on my arms and chest. I needed to get cleaned up and hold a couple of the wounds together to help speed up healing. Then… I hesitated. I glanced around me. Nobody paid a lick of attention as they supported one another, cleaned up. A few were on tablets, others on important phone calls—at least, I assumed so from their serious expressions.

I needed to get the fuck out of here and on a plane. The uncomfortable twist of loneliness, the reminder that I was an outsider shone a spotlight on the hollowness in my gut.

Fuck that.

I'd made peace with my solitary existence a long time ago. Was it the reason why I could be such a cunt and pushed people away? Abso-fucking-lutely.

With a wince, I peeled away the sweat- and bloodstained T-shirt that was in ruins. Two of the three slashes would just need a clean. The third…. I scrunched my nose. It would need stitches or at least glue. The deep one was nestled in the mat of hair on my pec, which meant I needed to shave the damn thing to get access unless I wanted my hair to be glued or stitched down.

Just bloody peachy.

I tore open a packet of alcohol wipes and swiped at one of the smaller cuts, scrunching my nose at the sting. The sheet coloured quickly, capturing more blood from my hands than off my body.

I shook my head. Maybe I should just wait till I was at the airport. Though there wasn't a chance I'd be let in the building in the state I was in.

"Fuck," I grumbled, throwing the soiled sheet in a paper bag in the back of the SUV.

"You need some help there?"

I turned. Valeria stood a few metres from me, a wry smile aimed in my direction.

Forming a tight smile, I shook my head. "I've got it." I glanced away, picking up another wipe and continuing to swipe the blood. My muscles rippled at the stinging, and I gritted my teeth, having to scrub harder at some of the more-difficult-to-remove stains.

"Bloody hell." The wipe was pulled from my grip and thrown in the car before Valeria gathered another, saying, "You're so damn stubborn. That I know that despite not even knowing you should have you worried."

"That right?" I aimed for disinterested.

"Uh-huh." She examined the deeper cut on my chest, prodding lightly around the edge.

"Ouch, fuck. Careful."

She pulled away and rolled her eyes. "That's going to need stitches."

"No shit," I groused. Brushing her hand away, I grabbed a bundle of gauze and pressed it against the deeper cut that still trickled blood. "I just need some wound-closure strips for now."

Before I could reach into the kit, Valeria was there, rooting around. I took a good, long look at her, trying to get a read on how she was handling everything.

"I'm fine." There was a pinch to her tone that had me immediately holding up my hands in self-defence.

"I didn't say a word."

"You didn't need to. Like I told Dad, I'm fine… for now, which means I'm dealing and coping the best I can and focussing on getting shit done. Whatever comes after when I process properly, I'll figure out then."

I shut down the sympathy trying to tug my eyebrows low. I suspected she wouldn't take too kindly to that.

"What's your plan?" she asked, changing the subject and holding the strips in her hand.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Our gazes connected before she pushed away my hand to focus on my injury.

"Well, you're here by yourself, avoiding the teams."

I was sure what she really thought was " avoiding my dad," which, shit, I was doing. I shrugged, causing her to sigh as my chest moved in the process. "They're not my teams," I said bluntly. "I don't belong here."

She paused a second after pressing a second strip to my wound and made eye contact with me before shaking her head and placing a third.

"Did you ever consider that none of these guys felt like they belonged at some point?"

My brow furrowed, not wanting to think deeper about her words. "The plan has always been to catch the next flight out of here."

"You've got someone waiting for you at home?" She flicked her gaze up, her eyebrow arched high in challenge.

"Not like that, no." I clamped my lips shut. Like that? Why I'd said those words, as if she was searching for info about my relationship status, boggled my brain.

"I see." Another two strips and she stood, examining her work. "So, what is waiting for you, then?" Valeria tilted her head, her gaze assessing.

I stared back, refusing to answer.

She didn't need to know I lived in an apartment by myself. That I didn't know my neighbours, and beyond going to the gym that was two buildings away four times a week, it was rare I left my home.

My mum died when I was young. My dad, I hadn't known. There were no siblings that I knew about.

And after the cyber unit discredited me, it became crystal clear who my friends were. A grand tally of zero. The jury was still out about Hart, and when all that shit blew up, it was before I'd properly known him. I lived an existence that was best to not be examined too closely.

"I'll take over here."

My skin prickled and I jumped. Talk about embarrassing.

Valeria nodded as she passed by Matt, handing him a pack of alcohol wipes.

Heat touched my skin, the goose bumps refusing to disappear as he edged closer, and as he brushed by me, his shoulder touching my arm, I shivered, unable to hold back my reaction.

He didn't speak as he scanned my body with an assessing gaze. His brows shot up, though, when they settled on the open waist of the borrowed jeans, my thick trail visible.

"Jesus, Ethan." A groan followed, and his eyes snapped to mine. "This is what you were wearing the whole time?" Light pink travelled up his neck, hitting his cheeks. "How did I not see this earlier?" Heat filled his eyes, and I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. A thick cock in these pants wouldn't leave anything to the imagination.

"I shifted at the bunker before I had the chance to strip." Gravel turned my voice raspy.

He swallowed hard, his eyes once again roaming my body, his fingers twitching, seeming like he wanted to follow the path of his gaze. If he did, I wouldn't have minded one bit, but I didn't think he'd be comfortable if my need for him overtook reason.

"Callen, Shaw, and Michaels are staying here to wait for Durrant and a team to arrive. The rest of us are catching a lift on Tarka's jet back to Sydney."

My heart hammered in my chest. So this was goodbye?

"Okay." I shuttered my expression and locked up any semblance of emotion that may sneak past my defences. "I'll grab a lift to the airport or maybe a hotel close by so I can wash up first."

Fuck, my passport, my gear. I closed my eyes, realizing everything was back in Brisbane. A second later, my eyes sprang wide open. "Shit, there was a fire." I didn't think I'd imagined that. After the explosion, everything was a little blurry. "My bag…." I trailed off.

I would need to organise a fake passport. I could reach out to George, who'd previously helped me when I was in Warwick.

"I have your bag."

My attention snapped to him, relief rushing into my chest thick and fast. "You do?"

He nodded, his intense gaze searching mine. "Your bag was left in the SUV we'd picked up."

A heavy whoosh of air escaped me. "That's great, thanks." A relieved smile tilted my lips a fraction. "I'll grab that first."

"Before what?"

My smile slipped as reality set in. I had to go. "Before getting out of your hair and getting on the first flight to London."

When his lips tightened and formed a straight line, I held my breath, refusing to fidget under his scrutiny.

"Lucas." Callen calling his name broke our connection.

Matt glanced over his shoulder to where Callen stood with a phone to his ear and a tired expression. Hell, we all looked bolloxed. Covered in soot and blood, we were worse for wear. I definitely wouldn't be walking through the airport like this.

When Callen beckoned Matt over, he nodded before sparing me a glance and an up-nod. A second later, he turned on his heels and left.

That really was that, then.

The disappointment pressing against me threatened to smother my breath. I hated it. Detested the sensation of regret, of feeling let down. But each of those emotions were on me. I was responsible.

To be so invested in a man who I barely knew was beyond ridiculous. Sure, we'd shared some moments that had wedged themselves under my skin, but whatever this thing was between us could easily be blamed on our forced proximity and high-stress situations.

Fuck, I was a dick.

Squaring my shoulders, I rifled through one of the bags in the back of the SUV, looking for a tee of some sort. Coming up short, I searched a second, pausing when my hand touched fabric. A black T-shirt. I held it in front of me. Another snug fit, but it'd do.

I tugged it on, turning at the friendly chuckle.

Tarka eyed the shirt I'd commandeered that sported his firm's logo and name, Eclipse Security. "A tight fit, but it could work."

I snorted out a huff, not feeling any real amusement.

"I'm serious. We can order those in XXL, make it more comfortable."

My brows shot high, my reaction plain as day for him to see. Was he saying…? "Are you offering me a job?"

His one-armed shrug was anything but casual as he studied me. "Maybe. Are you looking?"

Taken aback by this whole conversation, my brain struggled to process his words. His "sort of" offer. After a beat, I landed on "I don't work well with others."

His laugh caught me by surprise. Loud and booming, it pierced the air, turning more than a few heads our way. "I never took you for a bullshitter." He narrowed his gaze despite the smirk still being evident. "Sarcastic and a grumbly arsehole, sure. But someone who'd tell a bold-faced lie…."

I bristled, my muscles bunching as I turned to face him. "The fuck?"

A carefree lift of his shoulder preceded his "Just calling it as I see it."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You, today, and from what I've heard, the moment you stepped into Australia, have absolutely been a team player. The way you handled the situation, protected Vally, kicked some serious arse a few metres from where we stand?—"

I shook my head, cutting him off. "I don't fight unless I have to. Give me a computer and I can get shit do?—"

"Deal."

What the hell? "That's not what I?—"

"I can give you the best equipment you can dream of having as well as the support. I can also pay you a shit-ton of money."

I took a good look at the man before me. He seemed genuine. I also knew he was close to Matt.

Matt.

If I took a position here, what would that mean for us? Did I have the guts to pursue something?

My chest constricted. Fuck, I wanted that. Desperately. Wanted to see if there was something real between us. Wanted to care for him, look out for him, spend hours worshipping his body as we took the time to learn everything there was to know about each other.

I cast my gaze away, searching for him. Immediately finding him still talking to Callen, I took a shallow breath. Would he want this?

As if sensing my attention, Matt angled towards me, our eyes connecting.

He didn't smile. He didn't wink. He didn't rush towards me, begging me not to leave. But there was something just out of reach. Something telling me that doing this could work.

Maybe some things were stronger than fate after all.

Maybe the lonely existence I'd accepted as my future wasn't set in stone.

"If I can be located to Sydney," I said, looking at Tarka, "I'm interested. Tell me more on the ride to the airstrip."

A satisfied smile and a pat on my arm and Tarka chuckled. "That's definitely a deal. Let's get this shitshow on the road."

With the digital pen poised over the screen, I took a deep breath. Fuck it. I signed the contract with zero flourish and gave the tablet back to Tarka. I had to hand it to the man, he was efficient.

We were close to the airstrip. The two of us sat in the back seat of the SUV while Prue, a member of his team, was at the wheel. In the time it took to leave the scene and get this far, he'd talked me through the position—mission tech support and all the finer details that it entailed—offered me a salary package I'd struggled not to gawk at and organised a contract.

"Do you want to head to the UK to pack up or…?" He trailed off, looking satisfied as he countersigned the contract.

"No." I shook my head. "There's a company I can use to do that for me and get my things sent over." If I left, I might wake up and realise I was making a huge mistake and putting a hell of a lot of pressure on a relationship that may never pan out.

But I wasn't only doing it for that.

It was time I wanted more. Building friendships and trust, having people at my back who I could count on—I wanted that. If I didn't, I wouldn't have flown halfway across the world in the first place. I'd done so out of guilt, sure, but also, the friendship I had with Hart was tentative at best. I hadn't wanted to lose it completely.

Hell, since I'd left Sydney, I'd barely talked to the man. There was a lot I had to make up for when it came to earning his trust. I hoped this past week was a strong start to that.

"No worries." Tarka tugged out a phone from a bag at his feet and passed it to me. "This is fully secure and now yours." He focussed back on his tablet. "I've just sent you the details for your new digs. It's about fifteen minutes—if traffic isn't a bastard—from headquarters. We have other hubs in each of the major cities around Australia, but Sydney is our home base." His smile turned sly, eyes filling with amusement when he added, "Just ten minutes in the other direction is a certain unit leader's pad too."

Despite my heating cheeks at being called out, I refused to look away as I narrowed my gaze. My pining clearly had not been as subtle as I'd thought. Though another dead giveaway was probably how I'd manhandled Matt at the bunker, then been caught with my tongue down his throat.

"Fuck off," I grunted. Boss or not, the man would need to get used to me.

Amused, Tarka chuckled and bobbed his head as the SUV pulled to a stop outside the hangar. "I think you're going to fit right in, Wilder." With that, he exited the car, and I lumbered out, searching for the sign to the washroom he'd told me about.

Most of us would need a washdown, so I had to make quick work of cleaning up and shaving around my wound to free up the space.

Spotting the sign, I headed first to the lockers. Here I would find fresh clothes. Just like Tarka told me, the locker was crammed full. I peered down at my still-bare feet, dreading the amount of scrubbing that I'd need to do to get the dirt trapped in small cuts from scraping rocks. In a third locker, I found a pair of boots, relieved men's shoe sizes worked the same way here as in the UK. I was in no fit state to figure out maths.

New clothes in hand, I headed into the small washroom. A shower sat in the corner, and there was a toilet stall to the side with its own door and a sink near the entrance. I flicked the lock, stripped, and switched on the shower.

Blissful, glorious heat hit my shoulders. I embraced each sting, relieved and, honestly, a little surprised I'd survived the ordeal. Knowing time was of the essence, I scrubbed at my body before finding a bunch of disposable razors in a small cupboard. Before I could step back into the shower to shave around my wound, a gentle knock sounded at the door.

My brows dipped. "I'll be quick." Fuck, I wasn't taking that long.

Another knock and I clenched my jaw, reaching for the lock as I tugged the door open, not giving a shit that I stood starkers. I rocked back on my heels, my frustration disappearing in an instant.

"Matt," I whispered.

His gaze softened a fraction before uncertainty took over. "You mind if I come in?"

Hope bloomed in my chest, only to fade away when he held up a suture kit.

"I thought you might need a hand."

I straightened and pushed aside my disappointment as I took a step back, giving him access. "Sure, thanks."

He locked the door behind himself before turning back to me.

We stood in awkward silence, him assessing my body—likely my injuries—me wondering why I couldn't just open my trap and tell him I was staying. That I wanted to kiss him.

"You, uhm… need help shaving the wound?"

His nerves sent a flutter to my chest.

"That'd be great," I answered despite being able to manage perfectly fine by myself. But hey, if the man was offering to get up close and personal with my naked body, I had no issues with that.

His lips twitched, but he didn't call me out. After all, he'd offered.

"You want to get back in the shower so we can get some suds on your chest?"

When faint pink touched his cheeks, I nodded immediately, voice dropping as I said, "Won't you get wet?"

The pink deepened, flushing to a colour I enjoyed seeing far too much on his usually pale skin.

Wordlessly, he dropped the suture kit on the basin and shrugged off his clothes.

Well, fuck.

I eased back under the spray, unable to look away.

He was glorious.

He stepped into the shower, and as the water cascaded over his body, it washed away some of the grime and blood, revealing the full extent of his injuries. Angry red cuts crisscrossed his chest, some partially healed, others still fresh. Bruises marred his skin, painting a story of the fierce battle we had just survived. Yet, despite the wounds, he was breathtakingly beautiful—lightly muscular, strong, and fuck, he was gorgeous.

My breath caught in my throat as he moved closer, the space between us shrinking. My body reacted instinctively, heat pooling in my core as I reached for him. He met me halfway, our bodies pressing together under the warm spray. His skin was slick and warm against mine, every point of contact sending electric sparks through my veins.

His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto mine. The weight of what we had faced, the reality of our mortality, hung heavy in the air. We could have died today. This could have been one of our last moments together, and that realisation fuelled the fire between us.

Before I could speak, his hands cupped my face, and his mouth crashed onto mine with a ferocity that took my breath away. The kiss was desperate, filled with pent-up passion and an urgent need to feel alive. I responded in kind, my hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard planes of his muscles, the rough edges of his wounds. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the unspoken fear of losing him. What could have been.

We kissed harder, more fiercely, the intensity of our emotions driving us to the brink. The steam from the shower enveloped us, creating a protective cocoon. His hands tangled in my hair, tugging me closer as his lips moved hungrily over mine. I could taste the salt of his sweat, the metallic tang of blood, and something uniquely him.

A loud knock on the door shattered our moment, pulling us back to harsh reality. "Wheels up in fifteen minutes, and others need the facilities," a voice called out.

We pulled away reluctantly, breathing heavily, skin flushed. The urgency of our situation pressed down on us, and unspoken questions lingered in the air between us.

"Matt," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

"Let's get this done quickly. Get you shaved. Then I'll stitch you up out of the room to free it."

He was right, but that didn't mean I had to be happy about it.

"Fine," I grumbled, my cock bobbing between us. It brushed his stomach, and he groaned, eyes dilating.

"Ethan." He bit his bottom lip, peering between us, eyeing my erection. Then he stepped back, shaking his head. "Perhaps this will go faster if you shave yourself and I meet you out there?" He hooked a thumb behind him in the direction of the door.

Feeling cocky, I grinned. "Unable to resist me?"

When he dragged a slow glance down my body, my gut tightened. He was absolutely the one in control here.

"Maybe. Perhaps we can find out when we get to Sydney."

My brows shot high. Had Tarka told him?

Without another word, he flicked one last longing glance at my cock before he turned, shoved the shower curtain to block his view, got dressed, and hightailed it out of the room.

My laugh remained, loud and satisfied, from the moment he tried to hide me away until deep chuckles followed as I dried and dressed, eager to track him down to discover what exactly he meant by his comment about Sydney.