“Maybe I need a personality transplant.”
“Oh, Kitty-Cat,” Sean grabs my hand. “Why in the world would you say that?”
“I’m too much,” I can’t look him in the eye. If I do, I’ll cry, and I don’t want to mess up the trendy bar stools that probably cost more than my condo.
“Too much?”
I nod. “Too much for men.”
“Oh, honey. You’re absolutely the way you need to be.”
“Yeah, right,” I roll my eyes. “They all want a piece of theWild Cat, but after the excitement wears off, they’re still stuck withCrazy Cat.”
“Then they’re not your forever and are weeding themselves out,” Sean touches my chin with his finger, tilting my face to meet his eyes. “Kitty-Cat, you will never be too much for someone who can’t get enough of you.”
Damn it. Here come the tears.
Sean kisses my cheek. “He’s out there. Right now. Waiting for your whole authentic self to knock his socks off. Who knows, maybe you already met him?”
It’s my turn to laugh loudly. “Yeah, right. Maybe I tripped over him and didn’t even know it!”
The ringing of my phone interrupts whatever Sean is going to say. Usually, I’d ignore it, but it’s my Mama’s ringtone. And she doesn’t call out of the blue.
“Mama?” I answer.
“Catalina, it’s Camellia.”
Chapter 4
“Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.”
-Ryker
The metallic tang of blood fills my nose. Explosions pepper the ground all around us. Flashes blink on and off in the night sky.
“We’re pinned,” Garrison calls from my right. “You got eyes on Dorff?”
We were separated from Neidorff when the first explosions ripped through our convoy. Heavy machine gunfire rattles around us. I wait until the shooters reload their weapons to chance a look around the corner of the crumbled building where we grabbed cover.
Three bodies are between us and the burned-out vehicles. The fires and nightfall make it hard to know if they’re breathing or if they’re our guys.
“Can’t tell,” I whip back to safety.
Garrison is shouting into his walkie. I slow my breathing in an attempt to remain calm.
It’s not the first time our group has been in the line of fire. But it is the first time we’ve encountered this much resistance.
Fucking ambush.
“What’s your twenty?” Garrison is talking to someone. I can’t make out the conversation. I know we’re about to be black on ammunition.
“Time?” I glance at my fellow Special Ops teammate.
“Five minutes.”
“Don’t have five worth of ammo. We’ll be out in two.”
“We’ll have to make do.”
