Dom: Hell Squad #18 Read online

  “I’m going to head to my quarters and let my woman spoil me,” Hemi said.

  “Your woman’s thinking of smacking you around for letting alien suckers hurt you,” Cam amended.

  Grinning, Hemi pulled her close, and Cam pressed her face to his chest and held him tight.

  Then Hemi’s gaze fell on Dom again and his smile faded.

  “I’ll stay with him,” Arden said. “I owe him.”

  Hemi nodded. “Thanks, Arden.”

  “Take care.”

  Hemi and Cam headed out.

  The hours ticked by, and Arden sat quietly in the chair, watching the ebb and flow of the infirmary. She kept an eye on Dom’s monitors, ensuring everything was okay. Finally, he stirred.

  He sat up, the sheet falling down his bare chest. The burns on his skin were almost healed.

  “Thirsty.” His voice was raspy.

  Arden poured some water. “You’re in the infirmary.” Rising, she touched his bare shoulder and held the drink up to his lips.

  He took a long sip, his gaze looking at her over the rim of the cup. “Ciao.”

  “Hi,” she whispered back.

  She set the drink down, and when she moved back to her chair, he reached out and grabbed her hand. His fingers circled her wrist, stroking her skin.

  “Is everyone okay?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Hemi.”

  “All healed up, and no doubt letting Cam take care of him.”

  Dom shifted on the pillows. “You stayed with me.”

  They stared at each other.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Right-o.” Emerson appeared. “Mr. Santora, you’re my last task before I’m off to put my feet up and let my man massage them.”

  Arden tried to imagine big, silent, and scary Gabe from Hell Squad massaging the doctor’s feet. Then she tried to work out how bubbly, friendly Emerson and Gabe worked.

  But the pair were in love and—Arden’s gaze dropped to the woman’s belly—expecting twins, so clearly, they made it work.

  “You’re healing up nicely.” Emerson peered at the monitors. “The nanomeds have just about finished up.”

  Arden sent up a silent thank you for the tiny medical machines that could heal just about any injury.

  Emerson straightened, her hair swinging around her jaw. “You can go back to quarters, but I want someone with you to monitor you. These suckers have some new sort of poison in their saliva, and there’s potential for there to be some lingering effects.”

  Dom frowned. “I’m—”

  “I’ll do it,” Arden said. “I’ll stay with him.”

  He scowled at her. “I don’t need a—”

  “Whatever he needs to do, I’ll make sure he does it,” she said firmly.

  He grumbled something in Italian, dropping back against his pillows.

  A smile curved Emerson’s lips. “I’m sure you will. He just needs rest and some food. Keep him hydrated. Those suckers took a lot of blood.”

  “Then he’ll rest,” Arden assured the other woman.

  Dom crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I’ll give you some painkillers,” Emerson said. “You can give them to him if he has any additional pain.”

  “I am in the room,” Dom said.

  Arden ignored him and took the pills from the doctor. Whatever it took, she’d make sure he was okay.

  * * *

  Dom woke in his bed. He glanced at the ceiling, carefully assessing his injuries. The pain in his neck had faded drastically, and it wasn’t bad at all now. He’d lived with pain all his life, and learned to lock it down and not let it bother him.

  He heard a faint scratching sound and turned his head on the pillow. Then he saw her, and the air caught in his chest.

  Arden was curled up in the chair beside his bed, with her feet tucked beneath her. Her sketchbook was resting in her lap, and she was busy sketching with a stick of charcoal.

  He drank her in. His life had been void of good, clean beauty, and Arden encompassed all of that. Her hair was loose in shiny waves around her shoulders. Her elegant fingers were stained with black.

  He shifted and she stilled, her gaze moving to his face.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Like I got attacked by aliens and then healed up.”

  She watched him steadily.

  “I’m fine.” Dom sat up, the sheet pooling at his waist

  He’d been injured before—by the Gizzida, by Salvatore’s enemies, by Salvatore himself. He’d woken up plenty of times with various aches and pains. Not once could he remember anyone sitting by his bed.

  Arden’s gaze moved over his bare chest. Pink spots appeared in her cheeks.

  “Keep sketching,” he urged.

  She was still for a second, then her hand started moving again. It didn’t take long before she was absorbed in her work again. And then, after a few stolen glances, he realized that she was drawing him.

  Dom leaned back, curling an arm behind his head. He heard her breathing hitch.

  Hell, he was posing for her. He pulled in a breath and gave himself a mental shake. She wasn’t for him. How many times did he have to keep reminding himself of that? His jaw tightened. He should push her away, drive her away, before he ruined her.

  His hand clenched on the sheet, but he couldn’t form any words.

  He shifted again, and this time he felt a faint sting across his healing skin and winced.

  “You’re in pain. Emerson said that the residual poison from the suckers might prolong the pain.” Arden rose, setting her sketchbook down on the bed.

  “I’m used to pain.”

  She hesitated. “Your life before…it was dangerous.”

  Dom’s hands clenched on the sheets. There were secrets he’d never told anyone. Secrets he kept locked away. But this woman was more dangerous than he’d guessed. She carved through his locks like a blade through skin.

  “My earliest memory is being beaten. I stole some food.” He heard her chest hitch. Si, he needed to make her see the gulf between them. “Growing up in a criminal organization means that pain is a way of life. Taking it—” he met her gaze “—and inflicting it.”

  She came unstuck and moved over to his kitchen. She grabbed a packet of medication off the counter. Then she filled a glass of water and returned. “No child should be beaten, in pain, or hungry.”

  Dom took the pills and their hands brushed. “I haven’t been a child for a very long time.”

  She sat down on the edge of his bed.

  A warning alarm blared in his head. Arden Carlisle anywhere near his bed gave his body ideas. Even now, barely healed, it was reacting to her. His blood pumped thickly through his veins.

  He had to make her see. He had to protect her.

  “Arden, why are you here?”

  “I’m taking care of you.”

  “Why?”

  She tucked some strands of her hair behind her ear. “Because I was worried about you.”

  “You shouldn’t worry. You should stay far away from me.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “You aren’t the big, bad, evil villain you pretend to be, Dom.”

  He sat up. “I’m not pretending anything. I was a Mafia enforcer, Arden.” He lowered his voice. “You know what that means?”

  She licked her lips. “Yes.”

  “You have no clue. What were you before the invasion?”

  “An office manager.”

  “An office manager, with a regular job, a nice house, and a loving family.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip. “None of us are who we were before.”

  “I still kill. It’s aliens now, but there was already blood on my hands.”

  She lifted her chin. “Stop trying to scare me.”

  “You should be scared.” His hand flashed out and he grabbed her shirt, tugging her toward him. She gasped. He yanked her across the bed, their faces so close that their breath mingled. She was breathing fast
.

  Dom stroked the line of her jaw. “You can’t handle me.” His words were a growl.

  He wanted to devour her whole. The things he wanted to do to her would terrify her.

  “Dom.” Desire vibrated in her voice.

  He fought the urges in his body. He wouldn’t destroy her. He pushed her away and watched as she caught herself before she fell off the bed. He had to fight himself to stop from reaching for her.

  “Go, Arden. I might want to sink my cock deep inside you, but I don’t want a needy, delicate woman who can barely cope with her own demons.”

  She looked like he’d struck her.

  She stumbled backward off the bed. “Bastard.”

  Dom felt an ache in his chest, but he blocked it. Pain. There was always pain. That’s all life ever brought him. “Yes, in the literal sense and the metaphorical one.”

  She stared at him, those big, violet eyes making him want to make mistakes.

  Then she turned and ran out of his quarters.

  Slowly, Dom shifted to the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. She’d forgotten her sketchbook and it lay on his sheets. He reached out and opened it.

  He saw the sketch of him lying on the bed and his gut clenched.

  Then he flipped the page. The next picture was him in his armor. But she’d changed it. The armor was black, but it wasn’t the sleek, modern carbon fiber they wore. She’d added details that made it look like the old-fashioned armor of a knight. And she’d put a sword in his hand.

  Is that what she saw when she looked at him? No one would ever accuse him of being a knight.

  The paper crumpled in his hand.

  Then, the communicator beside his bed pinged.

  Dragging in a deep breath, he leaned over and touched the button. “Santora.”

  “Dom?” It was Indy’s voice. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good. If you’re up for it, there’s a big meeting in the Command Center.”

  A distraction. Just what he needed. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Six

  Arden stormed into her quarters. Her chest was viciously tight, and sadness was choking her.

  Dom… No. She blocked him from her thoughts.

  She moved into her bathroom and then stopped. She stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  She looked so pale, so fragile. With one finger, she touched her cheek. She hadn’t spent much time looking at herself in the mirror since the invasion. When had she become this delicate?

  Sucking in a deep breath, she grabbed a hair tie and brush. Ruthlessly, she stroked the brush through her light-brown locks, then pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Then she splashed some water on her face.

  When she looked up, there was a spark in her eye.

  She had the right to grieve. She had a right to work through her loss. But dammit, even if she didn’t like admitting it, there was a kernel of truth in Dom’s words.

  For the last two years, she’d been existing. She’d stopped living the day she’d lost her family. And somewhere along the line, for better or worse, she’d let herself forget that she was still alive.

  Arden lifted her chin. Still, he was an asshole to talk to her like he had.

  Her communicator dinged and she strode back into the main room. She saw a message and thumbed the button. She quickly read the text. There was a meeting in the Command Center.

  Lifting her chin, she strode back into her bathroom and tore open the drawers. She found the small case Indy had given her and yanked out some lip gloss. It was a pretty, bright pink. She swiped some on, then headed out of her quarters.

  As she headed down the corridor, she felt…pissed. Anger was swelling inside her. Anger at a dark, handsome asshole.

  When she reached the Command Center, she found it packed. All the squads were inside—muscled bodies and broad shoulders taking up space—along with the Command Center staff.

  She spotted Roth’s dark head, and moved toward Squad Nine. As she neared, Taylor looked up and smiled. The woman’s gaze moved over Arden’s body.

  “You look…different,” Taylor said.

  Arden shrugged in response. “What’s going on?” There was an edgy vibe in the room.

  Taylor shook her head. “The general’s about to share.”

  Up front, Holmes clapped his hands. “Everyone, listen up.” The composed man blew out a breath. “Several minutes ago, the drone team picked up an explosion in the Blue Mountains.”

  Gasps and murmurs ran through the crowd.

  “It occurred north of Katoomba.”

  Arden’s body locked. Oh, God. The bomb.

  “We’re currently waiting for intel, and have a drone en route.”

  Everyone turned to the giant screen on the wall. It flickered, and footage from a moving drone appeared. The machine was racing over a sea of green trees.

  Arden glanced around the room. Everyone’s attention was glued to the screen. Then, she spied Dom standing with the berserkers and her heart bumped hard against her ribs.

  As she looked at him, he turned away from the screen and his gaze locked with hers.

  She quickly glanced away.

  “Coming in now,” Lia said.

  The woman was seated behind a comp screen up front. The head of the drone team was currently in command of the drone. The woman had a deft touch with the machines.

  “It’s in the community of Mount Wilson,” Lia added.

  Arden started. “I remember Mount Wilson. There’s a small survivor community there.”

  Lia frowned, glancing Arden’s way before turning back to her screen. Her long fingers manipulated the controls in a calm, competent fashion.

  “You’re correct, Arden.” Lia flicked a glance at Holmes. “They didn’t want to leave and come to either Blue Mountain Base, or the Enclave when we moved it. It’s been a while since we last checked in with them.”

  The small town came into view.

  And so did the carnage.

  Plumes of smoke rose above the trees. Trees were burning, houses were destroyed, the ground was churned up.

  Arden pressed a fist to the center of her chest. Around her, the room echoed with curses.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Hell.”

  “Shit.”

  The drone swept in closer.

  People were staggering around the street, and her pulse jumped. They were still alive. But as the footage zoomed in closer, a bad taste coated her tongue. Most were limping, some were crawling along the ground. Screams and moans filled the speakers.

  The general stiffened. “Squad Nine, Squad Three, I’m going to send you in. Get prepped—”

  “Wait.” Lia’s horrified voice. “Look.”

  Arden saw it, too.

  The people had patches of scales on them. It looked like someone had splattered them with raptor scales.

  As they watched, a man fell to the ground, writhing. He had scales covering his left arm, and, as they watched, his body twisted, the scales seeming to flow over his chest. His body was transforming, right before their eyes.

  “It was the test bomb,” Noah murmured from the front. “There it is. The raptors set off the test bomb.”

  She followed to where Noah was pointing, and saw the remnants of the small bomb now. It was made of black metal, about the size of a dining table. It was shaped like an octagon, with lots of sharp angles. It looked like the top of it had burst open, and parts of it were melted.

  “Tane, Roth, go,” the general ordered. “We need samples and images. We need to know what the hell happened.”

  Emerson pushed forward. “General, people are hurt—”

  Looking like a heavy weight was sitting on him, Holmes shook his head. “We can’t send a medical team into that. Equip the squad medics with what you think they might need.”

  A rumble of conversation swelled in the Command Center, full of anger, shock, and disbelief. The berserkers strode out the doors, their faces set. Ard
en stared at the back of Dom’s white shirt.

  Then she swiveled and saw Roth nod at his squad.

  “Roth, I can help.” Arden gripped the man’s arm. “I’ve been working with Noah, testing the new combat drone he’s developed. It’s linked to me. It has weapons and full recording capabilities—”

  Roth scowled. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “The drone is incredible,” she insisted. “It has scanning abilities. We can gather data from the entire town. Roth, those people are turning into Gizzida. We need to know exactly what happened. I want to help.”

  From beside Roth, his second-in-command, Mac, nodded. “Arden makes a good point. The combat drone could help.”

  The squad leader shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ll control it—”

  Arden shook her head. “I have a control chip implanted, and I’ve been training with it. It’s taken weeks to get to the point I’m at. There isn’t time.”

  “We’ll keep her safe,” Mac said.

  Roth blew out a breath, but nodded. “Okay, let’s move.”

  Eagerness racing through her, Arden headed over to Noah. “I’m going with my squad. We need the combat drone.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely. I can help.”

  Noah grabbed her arm. “It’s going to be bad out there, Arden. You’ll be up close and personal with it.”

  She dragged in a breath. “I know. I can handle it.”

  He eyed her for a second, then gave one decisive nod. “I’ll get the drone. I’ll also program all the squad members into it. Meet you at your locker room.”

  “Thanks, Noah.”

  Arden went with her squad. Taylor and Sienna helped deck her out in armor.

  “You’re closer to my size,” Sienna said, holding up an armor plate. “But taller.” The woman strapped it onto Arden.

  “Here.” Taylor handed over a small thermo pistol. “Hope you won’t need it, but pays to be prepared.”

  The armor felt too big and bulky, like she was a kid playing dress-up. She slid the pistol into the holster at her hip. Around her, the rest of the squad were almost finished getting their gear on. Theron and Roth were talking quietly, Mac and Cam were checking their weapons, and Taylor and Sienna were pulling on the last of their armor.