Las Almas, Mexico
ARZALEA 'SILK' BLACKWOOD

COFFEE. I NEED FUCKING coffee.

It was the first thing I thought as the helicopter landed on a base in Mexico. My body felt drained, and I was itching to stretch my legs. I hated sitting for long periods, and the multiple flights I had to take to get here have taken their toll on me. I felt bad for the pilot of my last flight because I nearly snapped his head off when he accidentally touched my hand to help me with my headphones.

Not my best moment.

I stepped off the helicopter and took in my surroundings. The base was buzzing with activity as I watched members of the Mexican force rush around. There were men and women and I suddenly felt better at the fact I wasn't the only female on base. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck around so much testosterone without some feminine backup. Though, in my experience, it's always been easier for me to be friends with the male species than it was for the females.

I walked along the airstrip, my ears picked up on some of the soldiers speaking in Spanish as they talked about the members of Task Force 141 joining their ranks for the next few months. And yes, I understood them. I prided myself on the fact I spent countless hours practicing the language.

There were many things I self-taught myself.

And not ta' toot my own horn, I knew a few other languages on top of that. Having a photographic memory had its perks, and easily learning a new language was one of them.

I overheard a few whispers about the mysterious Ghost and strained my ears to hear more. Apparently, he and his comrades had arrived a day ago and had already made quite the impression. I momentarily wondered if anyone knew about me. Did the 141 even know they had a new member? Surely John knew. He was their Captain after all.

There was a small frown on my lips as I grew closer to the compound, the lovely heat of Mexico welcoming me with open arms. I grumbled under my breath as I adjusted my uniform. It was too hot for this shit, and I would be stuck in it for the next few months. Kate will definitely be hearing my complaints the next time I speak to her. I hate the heat. Which I know is odd coming from a Southerner.

My eyes continued scanning the men, looking for one in particular. Kate had given me the rundown on who I needed to find. She was kind enough to show me photos and give me a great description of the man. But for the life of me, I couldn't find him at his moment, and I was starting to get strange looks from the other soldiers.

Once I entered the compound, I paused.

Alejandro Vargas, who seemed to be waiting for me at the entrance, stepped forward as if we were old friends and greeted me with a firm shake of his hand. One that he kissed right after. Not that I was really complaining, the man was handsome, and his accent was beautiful.

Did I mention I had a thing for men with accents?

Alejandro seemed to be a young man with kind features and brown eyes, a charming smile, and dark brown hair. Yep, this man is what most would claim as handsome. Did his tooth just fucking sparkle?

"You must be Silk. Welcome to the "city of souls." He said in an authoritative tone, and I could easily see why he was the Commander of this base.

I pulled away, trying not to blush from the way he kissed my hand. "And you must be Commander Alejandro. Laswell has told me a lot about you."

"Please, call me Alejandro, and good things, I hope." He smiled, showing me that killer grin that I was slowly starting to grow jealous of.

"Only good,"

"Good," His smirk is infectious. Damn, his teeth are perfect. "Follow me, everyone is in the briefing room waiting,"

He started in the direction of what - I think – was the briefing room, not checking to see if I was following. The thud of my Doc Martens could be heard as I quickly tried to keep up with him because damn, his legs were long and I was kind of struggling here. He began speaking and I listened as we walked alongside each other. I tried to listen, I really did, but there was really only one thing on my mind.

I need a fucking Coffee.

Was I addicted? Yes.

Would I give it up? No.

"In here, carino," Alejandro called over his shoulder, kicking the door open with the toe of his boot, and holding it open for me.

I gave him a smile for the chivalrous act and just as I moved quickly around him, not wanting to make any type of physical contact, because damn he's attractive and I might pass out if I touch him. My body came to an abrupt stop as I collided with a fucking wall. Though, this wall could talk. A deep gasp comes from in front of me as a man, a pretty large one, starts to fall back. My reaction time was quick, and with swift motions, I reached forward to hook my hand on the front of the vest he was wearing. I snagged him forward and steadied him on his feet.

Because damn, I ran into him hard, and he practically bounced off my smaller form like a ping-pong ball.

When I say I repel men, I didn't want to mean it in the literal sense.

"Fuckin' hell, are you okay?" I asked, my eyes taking in his appearance.

I instantly recognized this man as Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish. The dashing Scott on Task Force 141. And his pictures did not disappoint, though the real thing was much better. He looked straight-up punk rock with the little mohawk he had going on, with deep blue eyes, and thick black brows. And I don't miss the way his eyes scan me up and down with a silly smirk on his lips. He wasn't looking at me in the way that made me feel intimidated. No. It was more of a look that screamed ooh fresh meat! And once again I was fighting blush.

"I'm good, Lass. A sturdy little thing, aren't ya'?" He said in a thick Scottish accent, winking playfully as he held out a hand for me to shake, "Names Johnny, but the ladies call me Soap,"

"Nice to meet you," I took his hand in my own and gave him a firm shake so he knew I was not some weak little thing, as he had called me. "I'm Silk—"

"Bloody hell, Love, already trying to take out my soldiers?"

That voice. That deep voice that I missed so much. I lean around Soap and my eyes land on no one other than John Price. A smile worked it's way onto my face, and without missing a beat I rushed forward full force, jumping into his arms that were already open and waiting for me.

"John! My god, it's been too long."

His embrace was warm and familiar as he pulled me close and laid a soft kiss on the crown of my head. He pulled back and smirked down at me. "Aye, it has. You look wonderful, love."

I scrunched up my nose as I stared up at him. I reached up and tugged his beard. "Mutton chops, gross."

I heard a loud snort behind me, and I could only guess it was Soap.

"Is this her?" An English voice asked, and I had to pause because damn it was deep and I think I just swooned a little.

My eyes scoped the room and went toward the far corner. I had to pause when I saw who spoke. It was a man. A very large man. He stood in the back of the room, leaning a broad shoulder against the wall, the shadows slightly hiding his intimidating form. His clothes consisted of mostly black, and not an ounce of skin was showing. And the worst thing of it all was the fact I couldn't see his face.

Because it was covered by a black balaclava with a white skull printed on the front. His whole look screamed trouble and I found myself instantly curious of this faceless man.

My eyes continued to take him in. He was large. And when I say large, I mean large. And his arms? They were massive as they laid folded over his broad chest. It was like this man stepped out of some gothic magazine. I snapped my eyes back up to his dark ones and had to hold my breath for a moment.

His gaze was intense to say the least.

He was looking at me, and I couldn't read his expression. His gaze lazily trailed from my head to my toe before locking onto my hazel eyes once more. The brown in his eyes lacked any emotion and I started to feel uncomfortable. He looked like the type to not have a soul and I could only place him in the category of those dark romance novel characters.

"Yes, this is her." Price spoke up, snapping the invisible band that had formed in the air between me and this mysterious man. "That's Ghost,"

Ghost. Simon Riley. The guy that never takes pictures. Noted.

Before I could look back at Ghost, another person joined the room. It was another man, and he was dressed in some gear. When he saw me, he gave me a welcoming nod and walked over to shake my hand.

"Hello, I'm Kyle Garrick, but I go by Gaz,"

And just like Soap, his picture did not disappoint. He had dark hair and was a little shorter than the other men in the room. There was a soft smile on his lips that could put anyone at ease. His brown eyes were kind and I knew I'd like having him around.

"I'm Silk,"

"Just Silk?"

I nodded, "Just Silk,"

He nodded, "Nice to have you on the team,"

I faced John once more, "Now, fill me in on everything I need to know about this situation,"

John nodded and put on his Mr. Serious face as I liked to call it. "Take a seat, this is going to take a while."

With a nod, I walked over and took a seat at the table beside Soap and Gaz. My head turned over my shoulder, eyes moving back across the room to Ghost to see if he was going to join us. When I saw he wasn't attempting to move, I went to turn back around but paused as his dark eyes met mine one last time, and this time, there was a hint of interest there.

Yep, I really should have stayed in Arkansas.

"Hassan was taken back into Cartel protection in Las Almas. Alejandro has confirmed, Hassan is moving something sizeable toward the US. The cargo could containers housing missiles," John started as he stood beside a large projector, picking up a remote and clicking it on before pulling up pictures of shipping containers. "We don't know how many and we don't know the targets,"

He goes through, showing us different pictures with locations tagged on them, then there's a picture of a bald man. Hassan. I take in every detail of the terrorist face, wedging it in my memory for safe keeping as John goes on.

"To find out, we need to capture Hassan and bring him in for interrogation."

I turned my attention to John, lifting a brow. "That sounds like it'll take some man power."

John side-eyed me, and I already knew what he was thinking. That's why I'm here. They will need someone capable of getting the job done. Not saying the men in this room aren't capable of doing their job, but it wouldn't hurt to have some advanced help...a secret weapon.

Could that be considered as cheating? Yes.

Did anyone care? No.

"We will be assisted by Phillip Graves and his Shadow company. Their rules of engagement could help cut some red tape and get this done."

"When do we start?" Soap spoke up from beside me, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest.

John turned to him, "Alejandro is looking into Hassan's where a bout's as we speak. As soon as he finds intel, we will be the first to know,"

I frowned, concentrating on the big screen as John continued this meeting, sharing intel on the American missiles and locations on where they might end up. As he spoke, I felt that familiar tingle in the back of my mind, y'know, the one that tells you when someone is being a creep and is glaring holes in the back of your head? Yeah, well that is what I was feeling, and suddenly I had the strong urge to turn around.

So, I glanced over my shoulder as my eyes seek out one person.

And boy, I wish I hadn't looked at all. 

Ghost, Simon Riley, was staring at me, his dark eyes shifting and narrowing when he saw that my attention was on him. The longer we held eye contact, the more I began to feel uncomfortable, and maybe even a bit curious. I couldn't tell what he was thinking nor what he was feeling. That damn mask he was wearing blocked any emotion, and it bothered me.

I was used to being able to read people. It was something I prided myself on. I liked knowing someone's intentions with me. But as I stared back at this mysterious man, I didn't know a damn thing. Why were his eyes so intense? His gaze felt like he was analyzing everything about me and that left an unsettling feeling in my stomach. I know I should look away, to end this contest of who will break first, but for some reason I couldn't.

Was he testing me?

I make sure to meet his stare dead on, even adding a little brow lift to spice things up, but he didn't blink. He showed no sign's of being embarrassed for being caught. In fact, he almost seemed as if he were expecting me to be embarrassed. When he saw that I wasn't going to break eye contact, something flickers in his dark pupils, something like curiosity or intrigue or hell, I don't know.

Either way, I don't like the way he was looking at me now — all curious and unbothered — and I make sure to show it in my expression. I don't like how I'm reacting either. This man was an odd one, and his curiosity in me was dangerous. This was not a good thing, not at all.

They say curiosity often leads to trouble, and in that moment, as I stared into the various shades of brown, I knew he was indeed trouble.

As I said before, I should have stayed in Arkansas.

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑