Page 32 of Rescued

She shoved her feet into the too-big combat boots and laced them up tight, then grabbed her jacket. On the way out, she called over her shoulder, “And no spoilers for episodes I haven’t watched, or I’ll get Switch to drone strike you with wolf shit!”

“I’ll blow him the fuck up,” Boomer yelled back, but he wasn’t really pissed.

Breanna clomped across to the far side of the central cluster of buildings. She knew where Gunn’s cabin was by now, though she’d never been inside. According to Switch, it was a combination of living quarters, siege bunker, office, and meeting room, with a guest room-slash-holding cell.

She was looking forward to finally seeing another woman, but she was still nervous to meet Michelangela. From the way everyone talked, she sounded like a crazy, shape-shifting version of Xena the Warrior Princess.

About as opposite Breanna as anyone could ever be.

Outside the cabin was red pickup with a cap on it, tailgate down, the bed still half full of boxes. Breanna went up the steps—which were a lot more solid than the ones at Switch’s cabin, she noted with envy—and knocked on the door, suddenly feeling shy.

The door was flung open, and Mikey appeared. She was gorgeous, in a way that said she didn’t even care if she was or not. Long wavy blond hair that was a total mess, casual jeans that fit her perfectly, and a t-shirt with a picture of a cartoon black cat holding a bloody knife, staring out at the observer with crazy eyes, and the annoyed caption, What??

“Hi,” Breanna said, conscious of how absolutely crappy she looked in comparison. “I’m Breanna. Is Switch here?”

Michelangela smiled at her, her whole face lighting up with mischief. “Of course not. Unless he’s on a mission, Switch’s ‘I’ll be right there’ is like, ‘sometime this century.’”

Breanna giggled.

“I’m Mikey. Come on in.” She held the door open.

Breanna clomped inside, and Mikey looked her up and down. “For fuck’s sake,” she said. “Is that all these guys could find for you to wear? That’s just pathetic.”

She didn’t look judgy, though. More just resigned at the clothing idiocy of soldiers with nothing but Y chromosomes. Breanna immediately began to feel better.

Mikey threaded her way through the piles of boxes that filled the space between the door and the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “I got you some stuff on my way home,” she said, her voice slightly muffled as she hunted around on the floor. “Ah. Got them.”

She came back with at least eight shopping bags dangling from her hands. “I hope the stuff fits. I had to go practical with shoes and pants, because look at this place.” The bags rustled as she made a gesture that obviously encompassed the whole compound. “Mud everywhere. But I did get you some cute tops. Here.”

She put the bags down on the conference table that filled most of the living room. It looked like someone had raked the center of it with big wolf claws, and maybe chewed some of the corners.

Breanna looked through the bags. From what she could see, the clothes were adorable. And the shoes! Michelangela had gotten her red waterproof lace-up hiking boots with wolves on them.

“I got a pair of those for me too,” she said. “Because awesome, right? I hope you don’t mind. Some people hate when other girls have matching stuff.”

“No, it’s okay,” Breanna said, although she really didn’t like it that much. Models had to be unique to be noticed. But she wasn’t staying here long, so it really didn’t matter. And she did love the boots.

“It was really, really nice of you to do all this shopping. I can’t believe it.” She’d expected a couple of pairs of Wal-Mart jeans and some t-shirts. Mikey had gotten PJs, underwear, socks, toiletries, everything. Even… “Oh my god, a blow dryer.” She hugged it to her chest. “You’re amazing.”

She looked longingly at the clothes. “I don’t suppose… would you mind if I changed right now?”

“Please,” Mikey said. “You can burn the fatigues after, if you want.”

Breanna laughed. “That’s okay. I’ll keep them just in case.” For some reason, the idea of destroying something Switch had given her made her feel bad, even if it was just surplus equipment.

When she came out of the bathroom, old clothes in the shopping bag (except for the combat clown boots, which she never wanted to see again), Switch was just coming in the door.

He stopped short when he saw her. Breanna was wearing ass-hugging jeans, a shirt with layers of overlapping scallops in shades of blue and green, and a pair of black boots that were like a cross between hiking boots and high-top sneakers, and cute as hell.

Switch’s gaze traveled from her feet upwards, possibly lingering on her hips and her boobs a tad bit longer than absolutely necessary. Breanna felt her face getting flushed, and twirled around in a circle to hide it, showing off her new outfit.

“What do you think?” she said.

“Hot as fuck,” he said instantly. “Ever think about modeling as a career?”

Snarky as always. But he was smiling, his eyes warm. Breanna’s breath hitched.

Switch turned to Mikey, grabbed her shoulders, and planted a smacking kiss on her forehead. “You did good. Thanks and shit. Where are the groceries?”