Page 31 of Skull

It was gone almost as quickly as he registered it, but the spark fried his brain, that look lingering in his jumbled thoughts.

When Strekoza released him, stepping back, Boomer found himself suddenly aware of the space between them, keenly aware of Taylor looking on. The echo of the impulsive hug filled his chest, the warmth of her arms around him lingering. A wave of self-consciousness rolled over him. He pressed his lips together, glancing at Taylor again to gauge her reaction. Boomer exhaled in a rush he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

His chest tightened and he called himself all kinds of a fool. It was his wishful thinking. She was everything confident and sure, while he rode an undercurrent of unresolved emotions stemming from his divorce that often made him feel unsteady.

For an instant, their eyes locked. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t quite form the words. He wondered what exactly she was thinking, if she was relieved that Strekoza was okay, or if she was confused by the embrace, or perhaps something more layered than that.

Boomer swallowed hard. His heart thudded, the echo of that tight-knit SEAL bond pushing him to speak. Yet all he managed was a few quiet words, directed partly at Strekoza and partly at Taylor, “Just doing what’s right. That’s all.”

He hoped, maybe in vain, that the simple statement would bridge the sudden swirl of emotion in the air. And as he stood there, his mind fluttered between pride, confusion, and the faint spark of hope that Taylor might see him, truly see him, as more than just a man.

For a moment, she simply eyed them both, hands folded protectively in front of her as though she couldn’t decide what to do next. The cautiousness in her stance reminded him just how vigilant she could be, like she was reading the situation for signs of hidden danger. Then her gaze caught his, and her features softened, just a fraction.

Boomer swallowed. All his protective instincts, his devotion to his team, his natural empathy for others, the brotherhood that pulsed like a second heartbeat, collided with that ever-present awareness of Taylor. She was the one he admired, maybe even cared for more than he cared to say out loud. Now, she’d seen Strekoza hugging him, and he wasn’t sure if he had just crossed an invisible boundary.

“Everything okay?” he finally managed, his voice low and uncertain.

Taylor offered a small nod, a trace of something unreadable still in her eyes. “Yeah,” she replied, a guarded edge to her tone. “Everything’s fine.”

He couldn’t tell if “fine” was truly fine or the opposite. But he’d stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the toughest men on earth, faced down firefights in the dead of night. So why did this slight, ambiguous look from Taylor disarm him more than any enemy had before?

He let out a breath and attempted a small smile, forcing down the swirl of confusion. SEALs always had each other’s backs and that would never change. But sometimes, what you protected most was your own heart. And Boomer, for all the dangers he’d faced, wasn’t quite sure how to defend against the conflicting feelings sparked by two very different women, one who’d nearly lost her life and one who just might change his forever.

Walker’s knee-jerkreaction was to deny that any of them had control over her, but her conscience kicked in. It was dawning on her that going it alone put her, Skull, and Bones in additional danger, and she had to include Strekoza in that mix. Her partner almost died because of her impulsive action. They both had been in over their heads, and if it wasn’t for Skull’s quick action in sending Bones her way, she might not be standing here right now. Boomer and GQ had rescued Eva, and she was so grateful for that. But even in all that chaos, she had to acknowledge how Bones and Skull worked seamlessly together, as had the whole team. Iceman had been making those decisions on the fly and in the face of her rash impulse, and he had not only saved them both, but covered them at crucial times for this mission to be a success.

She turned away from him as his cell buzzed. He looked down at his phone and his face stiffened with alarm. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but was unable to process everything that had just happened. She opened her mouth anyway, but he said gruffly, “I have to take this. We’ll talk more later.” He gently cupped her face for a brief moment, his eyes hooded… Was that pain she saw…? Maybe a little bit of fear?

Once he disappeared down the hall, Walker just stood there, her heart clamoring for information. Why was there such a look on his face, and why was she caring way more than she should?

Walker lingered in the hallway, silent and still, her gaze fixed on the polished floor. She relied heavily on her keen intellect and introspective nature, the hallmarks of her analytical mind. Right now, every bit of her mental energy was caught in a loop, replaying the moment when Skull and Bones had saved her life. She had always prided herself on keeping things strictly physical, a neat strategy to avoid feeling exposed. Emotions, after all, were intangible and unpredictable, and for someone who valued knowledge, control, and personal space, they were far too complicated.

Yet here she was, processing an upwelling of affection she hadn’t anticipated. She couldn’t help analyzing her reaction, and that stutter in her heartbeat was all new as she remembered Skull’s fierce determination, his anger at her actions, an anger stemming from his fear for her safety, the subtle tenderness in his eyes just now. Did she truly intend to ignore the strength of their connection? Walker had wanted to remain self-reliant, to keep her emotions under lock and key. But when they risked everything to ensure her safety and the success of the mission, bagging their HVT with unfailing determination even in the face of tough odds, she had found herself shaken.

She leaned against the wall, arms folded. A few passersby on their way to the mess hall offered polite nods, but no one disturbed her. She gave off vibes that she needed her space, especially when she scowled at them. The wheels in her mind turned ceaselessly, weighing pros and cons, assessing every angle like a well-trained operative scanning a terrain map.

Another of her knee-jerk tendencies usually compelled her to retreat inward, to seek out more data and fewer variables. But now, the facts and figures she cherished so much weren’t enough to quell this uncertain feeling. She understood what a purely physical connection looked like—practical, minimal complications—but it had always been something of a fortress, a way to protect herself from the emotional storms that could tear down her carefully constructed barriers.

And now those walls had begun to crack, not under the weight of logic but a mad, crazy kind of feeling that was akin to that storm that was battering her walls. It felt disconcerting—and thrilling. Her immediate instinct was to retreat, to gather all the facts before making any move or revealing any vulnerability. Yet there was also a new thought stirring, an unexpected whisper reminding her that maybe some risks were worth taking.

She inhaled, steeling herself in that quiet corridor. If Skull had the capacity to make her feel safe, physically and emotionally, perhaps it was time to loosen her guard, if only by a fraction. She grudgingly acknowledged that growth often demanded stepping beyond the bounds of self-imposed isolation. That meant testing uncharted territory. It meant trusting someone else enough to let them see more than just her competence and cleverness. Project that siren, femme fatale persona to seduce and manipulate to the best of her advantage, to protect her heart. But in this instance, manipulating Skull would be futile. He either saw through her machinations or walked all over her intentions. He was more than a juggernaut. He was a sexy, no holds barred, down and dirty, challenging warrior.

So, she decided. She wouldn’t dive headlong into all that morass of jumbly, tangled shit inside her head. Far too risky, not her style. But she also wouldn’t bolt for the nearest exit. She’d let herself feel just a little more, see where the path led. Quietly, Walker decided that there was no perfect plan here, no foolproof data set. All she had was the awareness that she was no longer indifferent, that Skull had become more important than she had ever planned.

With that slight but meaningful shift, she pushed off from the wall and started down the hall, head held high. Let the uncertain feelings remain for now. She would continue to examine them carefully and methodically, but she would not immediately run from them. For the first time in a very long while, Walker felt she could be both rational and open to something beyond logic. And that was a surprising, quietly monumental step forward for her.

Her love life aside, there was a more pressing matter, and even though she was exhausted, battered, bruised and twisted up inside from Skull and her feelings for him, she still had a job to do. They had Blade and she wasn’t going to wait a moment to interrogate him. She went to the armory and stored all her weapons, removed her suit, and changed into jeans and a white tank top. Sending her hands through her tousled hair, she walked to the exit, slipped out the door and headed for the containment area. Sliding between the two burly Marines guarding a door, she went inside and walked down the hall, stopping at a door when she heard Anna’s voice.

Of course she was already at it. Before she could knock, Anna pulled the door open with an exasperated look on her face, closing it with a determined click.

She huffed out a breath. “He won’t talk.”

“I have an idea. What do you know about him?”

Fifteen minutes later, fortified with a file folder and a deep determination to get the information she was after, Walker strode into the small room. Blade turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed, recognizing her as one of the operators who had taken him down. For a moment, his eyes flicked behind her fearfully, as if he was looking for Bones. Hmm, she’d tuck that away as something she could use if this ploy didn’t work.

She watched Blade from across the small table, setting down the folder. He sat shackled to a shank in the middle of the table, his wrists raw from the cuffs. Sweat slicked his skin despite the cool air conditioning humming overhead, the injuries on his forearm decidedly fang induced were starting to close over. His dark eyes held hers with defiance, lips set in a tight line. He hadn’t spoken in all the time he’d been in their custody. Not after they’d dragged him from the chopper, not after they’d processed him, not after the first round of questioning.

But that didn’t matter. She had time. He didn’t.

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