Page 4 of Mistletoe and Mayhem

“Hands off.” A commanding voice with a distinctly British accent broke through my reverie. “We don’t manhandle the ladies here, mate.”

I raised an eyebrow to acknowledge the comment but didn’t look up. The tone and comment were both familiar to me, usually coming from a pissant with a god complex.

And usually from a man who wasn’t in charge or who didn’t have the authority he thought he did.

Abby flushed, my hands heating with her skin. She let out a squeak that might have been a giggle as she read my mind. That had always been one of her strengths—she always knew what I was thinking.

Or maybe I was slipping and let it show on my face.

“Manhandle is probably non-pc these days,” an Aussie voice whispered somewhere to my right.

“Probably,” the Brit was back.

Had the entire team come out to greet me? How sweet. My attention remained around us, though I still didn’t raise my head. Not until—

“My office. Now. Abby, you can sit this one out, but I’ll need you later.” The OIC seemed to growl, or maybe that came from the bear lounging around his ankles. It was hard to tell them apart.

“Playtime’s over.” I gave Abby a wink, watching the shock settle in on her face as she took the situation onto her thin—but by no means frail—shoulders.

She might have whispered my name as I turned to face LincolnAceKelly head-on but I missed it, taking in every inch of the man’s not small stature, and looking for a weakness.

It really sucked for me when I found none other than his loyalty to his bitch. Both of them.

I shouldered my duffle bag and held out a hand, enjoying the flicker of ire in the older man’s eyes. “Lead the way.”

***

“Iknow who you are, Ruski Boryenka, preferred first name only. Father Edik Boryenka, three brothers surviving and an unpalatable uncle who has tried to assassinate you three times to date. Who left you in...Thailand once, I believe. Trained sniper, mediocre intelligence agent, some small technical skills. Doesn’t take orders well. Few leadership skills, good communicator. Not a team player.” Ace looked down at me from where he planted his camouflage clad ass against the corner of his desk and folded his arms over his barrel chest, reciting my profile back to me.

I had to admit, for a man almost as lean as me, he had presence.Must be what it takes to keep his local rabble in line.

“Lincoln Ace Kelly, some distinguished rank stripped because you pissed off the wrong Major after losing your unit, responsible for the loss of at least one bi— dog,” I corrected myself, speaking with my eyes closed, my hands resting open on my knees, “and as many successful missions as unsuccessful ones, including ranking deaths that will never be mourned, because they can’t be. Born in Blacktown, west of Sydney city, to Bessie and John Kelly, a primary school teacher and a carpenter respectively. Both retired and have no idea you are still alive.” I cracked open one eye and added helpfully, “I can keep going.”

“You can take your cocksure ass out my door and not come back,” Ace seethed, though he kept his voice low and smooth. It was the flashing in his eyes that gave him away, like he was ready to rip me a new one. That, and the fact that his dog raised her hackles and growled.

Keeping my expression relaxed and on Ace, I lowered a hand slowly down the side of my chair and wiggled my fingers.

“You want to be called Lefty for the rest of your life?” Ace snorted, unmoving from his position. “Be my guest, soldier.”

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? I’m not one of your soldiers and I never will be.”

“What the fuck’s up your ass?” he asked sourly.

“Oh, I forgot. Silly me.” I clapped one hand to my chest and extracted a sheaf of papers, handing them over without looking as the dog—a stunning Belgian Malinois—tummy wiggled her way to me and licked my fingers. “You are going on a nice little holiday, pretty girl.”

Ace shot me a look that I didn't need to glance up to catch. His movement above me was enough. I didn’t check my six; he hadn’t read the papers yet. “Fucking young guns...”

“Yeah, you old fart.” I sat up straight and smiled as he scanned the pages quickly then read them again. His expression tightened, a myriad of emotions crossing his face if you know just where to look—and I did. I petted his dog and leaned back to watch the show.

“They’re shutting us down.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I mean to go out with this lot. Not...whittle away on some retirement island for ghosts.”

“Not quite.” I tugged the back page out of the mess he made and tapped the bottom of it. “The unit isn’t getting shut down. Not exactly.”

Ace read the last clause, then crinkled the sheaf in his fist. “Not the unit,” he echoed. “Just me.”

I kept patting his dog as he put his fist through the wall at my side, considering. Ace wasn’t as washed up as my father made him out to be when he made thesuggestionto the upper echelons for Ace’s replacement. My lip curled as he raged silently, likely having forgotten I was in the room.

That was good. I liked a man with a bit of fight left in him before I took him out. While Lincoln Ace Kelly was otherwise occupied, I slipped out the door of his office, waving a warning hand to his dog, pleased when I didn’t need to give her a verbal command to stay.

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