Page 5 of Fast Vengeance

“Maybe.”

“Maybe isn’t a no, so you obviously do.” Briar leaned forward, her expression eager now. “Since your options have been severely limited over the past few months due to your living arrangements and lack of social life, I’ll have to assume it’s someone we might know.” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Spill.”

Trinity chuckled softly. “Give it up, Briar. She’s never gonna tell us.”

Victoria smiled into her wineglass, keeping the answer to herself.

But yes. As a matter of fact, she did have a specific someone in mind.

Chapter Two

FAST Bravo had made it to the final day of another four-month tour in Afghanistan, conducting counter-narcotic and counter-terrorism missions with their Afghan colleagues. Before the team headed home, Brock had given the okay for the team to let loose a little. Beginning with this final superhero wrestling match featuring him and Maka: Captain America vs The Hawaiian Hulk.

And right now Cap was getting his ass handed to him.

“You gonna make your move, Cap, or what?” one of the guys asked him from somewhere close by as Brock struggled to fight his way out of Maka’s scary-powerful hold. Guy was built like a freaking tank.

“Tag me,” Granger demanded, crouching next to them. He stretched out his hand, shaking it in front of Brock’s face.

It took everything he had, but Brock managed to move enough to slap Granger’s palm. Abiding by the rules, Maka let him go and braced himself for his next opponent just as Granger gave a whoop of glee and pounced.

Brock scrambled out of the way just in time as the two men grappled on the floor. Granger somehow was still on top of Maka. Time to end this.

“Hold him down!” Brock shouted. Panting, he rolled to his feet as half the team dog piled on the big guy on the concrete floor. The other half stood by shouting encouragement from the sidelines, waiting for their turn to jump in to this last and epic championship wrestling match.

Desperate to defend his title, Maka struggled to extricate himself and amongst the tangle of limbs Brock’s gaze shot to the belt strapped around his teammate’s waist. The ugliest damn wrestling championship belt ever made, comprised of paracord, duct tape and the front case of a claymore. But as team leader, it was a matter of pride that Brock take it from him. And besides, after a solid two months of parading it around Bagram while mocking the rest of them for not being able to take him, Maka had this coming.

“Hurry up,” Granger growled to Brock, his bearded face now twisted with strain as he did his best to hold onto Maka, who was done playing and trying to throw guys off him amidst guttural snarls.

Brock crouched down just out of range of Maka’s big, flailing boots, eyes locked on his target, and waited until his guys had Maka mostly pinned for a moment. Then he seized his moment.

Diving forward, he grabbled hold of the belt with both hands and yanked it free from Maka’s waist with a satisfying pop. “Got it!” he shouted, jumping to his feet to hold it over his head in triumph.

Still trapped under a pile of teammates, Maka glowered up at him, one dark brown eye swelling a little. “Doesn’t count,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, bucking like an enraged bull. “I’m still the champ.”

“Brains over brawn, my friend. Can’t be champ without the belt,” Brock said, enjoying rubbing it in as he wound the belt around his own waist.

Maka let out a roar, the veins standing out in his neck. Hoots and hollers followed. A second later, Prentiss lost his grip on Maka’s legs and went flying, crashing back into the folding table leaning against the wall.

“Get the tables,” Granger called out, grinning like an idiot as he got clear of the writhing mass of bodies and raced around to drag it out and unfold it. Maka swore and fought two more guys off him, but two more jumped in to keep him in place.

They’d already broken three tables during the deployment, but they were leaving base to head home in a couple hours, so what was one more? “Well, if we have to we have to,” Brock said with a mock sigh, and started toward Maka with an evil grin.

Maka hit him with a lethal glare, his face barely visible from the midst of the headlock Rodriguez currently had him in. “You bastards, don’t you dare—” Whatever else he was going to say was cut off amidst another scuffle.

Two more guys jumped into the fray, laughing like maniacs. Brock waded in, managed to grab Maka around the hips and hold on as they hoisted the big guy off the floor and carted him toward the waiting table. “Get ready,” he warned, fighting a laugh. Maka wasn’t going quietly, either. Five of them were holding various parts of him, and still the guy wouldn’t be subdued.

It took some doing, but together they managed to coordinate their movements and hoist Maka above their heads. He stopped fighting, going rigid because he knew what was coming. “You assholes,” he snarled.

“He’s mine.” Brock moved into position beneath him, grabbing him by the waistband and planting his other hand between Maka’s shoulder blades. “On three,” he ordered the others, ignoring Maka’s continued threats. “One. Two… Three.”

With everyone’s help, he shoved Maka higher into the air and used the momentum to slam his back flat against the tabletop. The hinges shattered, the cheap plywood snapping like a dry twig under the force of Maka’s huge frame. A cheer rose up as man and table crashed to the floor with a thud.

Maka grunted, rolling on his side to slay them all with a lethal look.

“And the Hawaiian Hulk is still okay,” Granger announced with a laugh.

Breathing hard, face red and covered in sweat, Maka cursed under his breath as he slowly got to his knees. He stayed there for a moment, turned his head to nail Brock with a resentful scowl. “Doesn’t count,” he panted.

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