Dominance Never Dies (Masters and Mercenaries #11)(13)

Case had known that pain for almost a year. It didn’t matter that he had a freaking girlfriend and might never be able to love her. None of that mattered. He was a man who needed to save his brother and she was going to help him.

“Theo.” Mia handed him the grainy printout Tony had sent. “I found Theo and we’re going to get him back together.”

Case stared down at the photo. She’d memorized the damn thing. It showed two men, both holding AK-47s. One still had a mask over his face, but the other had slid it up so his features could be seen. She’d known immediately who he was. Case and Theo were fraternal twins, but they looked enough alike that they could be mistaken for each other. Case had a tighter jawline, his eyes slightly wider than his younger brother’s. He was the tiniest bit bigger, maybe a half an inch and ten pounds of muscle.

She’d studied Case, mooned over him like a teenaged girl, so she knew damn well what he looked like. The man in the photograph was Theo Taggart. She’d known it before the facial recognition software had confirmed it.

“Where?” Case’s voice sounded harsh and deep.

Tortured, as though he was being hurt along with his brother.

“It’s from a bank heist in Colombia.” She hated telling him that, but she couldn’t hold out on him. It was far too important.

More important than her heart.

“Where in Colombia?” His eyes narrowed, staring at her. That gorgeous jawline of his had gone tight.

“Cartagena. I have a friend there. I’d put out the word to my network that we were looking for him and Tony came through with that. He makes a careful study of everything that goes on around him, including certain police frequencies he shouldn’t be involved in.”

Case nodded and turned, stalking toward the back of the apartment. “Excellent. I’ll need his number and an address. Write them down for me.”

There was the arrogant bastard. She started to follow him. “It’s not going to work that way. I have to take you there. Tony is difficult to say the…oh. My god.”

He was naked. He’d tossed off that towel and his backside was the single most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It was sculpted and muscular and just freaking perfect but his back… What the hell had happened to his back? He had a deep scar that ran across the skin of his back from just under his left shoulder blade down to just above those gorgeous cheeks.

It wasn’t the only scar. There was a circular one on his thigh and some others.

So much pain.

“You know it’s usually considered polite to knock before entering a gentleman’s bedroom,” he said, his voice deep. He didn’t hurry up though. Nope. He simply reached for his boxers and slowly put them on like a reverse-strip-tease, you-can’t-touch-this show.

“Like you’re a gentleman,” she said with a huff.

He stepped into his jeans and turned, those big hands of his working the fly. “Did you get an eyeful? I suppose I should be happy you didn’t faint at the sight of all those ugly scars. I suppose those college boys you mess around with don’t have ugly scars.”

She rolled her eyes and started to mouth off to him and then stopped. Surely the man knew how freaking gorgeous he was. He had to know, right? “The scars aren’t ugly, Case. I think you need them. You would be too pretty without them. And I’m very sorry for staring at your backside. It’s obvious you put in the glute work.”

He frowned as though he’d expected something totally different out of her. “You were staring at my ass?”

Maybe this hadn’t been the right way to go. She felt her skin flush. “It’s a nice backside. I’m a woman. I looked. And what college boys? You have a distorted view of my dating life. I’m not exactly hitting the frat parties. You do know I’m twenty-six, right?”

“How do I know anything about you? You lied about everything.”

And they were right back to the core of their issues. She’d told one teeny, tiny lie while in search of a greater truth. It wasn’t even like she’d gotten away with it. No, the hacker gods of McKay-Taggart had found her out very quickly and used her because they’d suspected Drew was working for some super-secret evil organization. “I would suspect by now you’ve gone through my every record, Case. And it wasn’t like I was lying without a purpose. You know why I did it.”

Because she’d lost her best friend and no one would believe her. No one would talk to her about the investigation. They’d called it a random murder, but she’d known it was far from random.

He shook his head and moved to his closet, grabbing one of what seemed to be an endless supply of black T-shirts that molded perfectly to his chest.

She’d seen the man in leathers, a vest covering his torso. The line the vest left uncovered hadn’t told the tale. All she’d seen was perfect skin, but without the shirt or vest, his chest was another network of scars.

She wanted to touch them, to trace them under her fingertips and then kiss each one.

Of course, his girlfriend would probably object.

Stop it. Get down to business. Stop thinking with your girl parts because they obviously have terrible taste in men since they seem to only want stubborn, *y cowboys who have about as much forgiveness in their hearts as a dried up well.

“I know that you should have been honest,” he said as he pulled on his boots. He sat on the edge of his bed, working to get the beat-up boots on his feet.