Shadow Ops: Danger's Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 2) by LS Silverii
Authors: LS Silverii
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met, his heart warmed. Hollywood felt chills race across his skin until it almost burned.
“I miss you,” he mouthed without checking for the others.
Still a hint of doubt remained about the cell phone app, but his heart wanted to trust her completely. She sneered and shot him the middle finger beneath the palm of her other hand. His eyes dropped and he planted his forehead against both forearm. She should’ve been his warmth on this otherwise cold, shitty night. He understood her vehemence, but still, he couldn’t break his gaze—he missed her, their closeness.
“They had to transfer to ground courier, there’s no place to ship swap and running out of river. And, despite the rain and your approach boot prints, I saw footprints in our headlights that were heading away from the boat. I doubt shoe print casting is possible, but best bet is this op’s gone to a ground game. Moline isn’t their target, but it’s secluded enough to launch next phase. Whatever that is.” Like an encaged panther, Rose paced. Hollywood picked up his chin to feign attention, but his eyes dashed back to Voodoo.
“What about my friend tracker app,” Voodoo asked.
“She’s deactivated it—this location was the last transmit,” Rose replied while she handed Voodoo her cell back.
“Split up and scour this thing. Too much time spent aboard to not leave a clue. Hollywood, set this room up as the command center,” Billy said as he left to search.
“You mean set up an infirmary?” Hollywood didn’t lift his head to speak.
Her hair swept across the back of his bent neck. Voodoo’s soft, full lips pressed against Hollywood’s salty skin. Her open mouth hovered there with a slight suction, and flit of her tongue until he rolled his forehead side-to-side on the table and moaned.
“I love you Dwight, but I’m still pissed you doubted me. I am on your side.”
“I know,” his voice was low and muffled against the table. “But you’ve got to trust me too, Krystal.”
The bad weather affected this boat more than it had the ship in Memphis. Shallow waters in the channel made the severe wave action more intense. Hollywood’s already unsettled gut knotted into a strangulation hold. Burying his warm face in sweat-covered palms only made it worse. His elbows were tucked against drawn up, quivering knees. Sickness overcame him. Hollywood stumbled through the narrow passageway.
Feet tangled as he gripped the moist dog handle to yank open a hatch. Finally, he spotted the head. Torso bent at the waist, he stumbled with palm smashed against his mouth. Sweat exploded across his head and upper lip. Mouth ajar, what little he’d eaten over the last two days surrendered itself to the river.
“Hollywood, you okay?” KC asked.
“Fine,” he spit through coughed up blood and bile.
“Rally back in mess hall—nothing here.” She exhaled to show frustration. Hollywood didn’t exactly share her same concerns at the moment. His mouth refilled with blood—he suspected the fall from fast roping might’ve caused internal bleeding.
Shit, I’ve gotta get to a hospital.
He hugged the stainless steel commode while the last mouthful chucked between chapped lips. His breath came hard and labored. Hollywood mustered the strength to push away and stand or crawl back to the mess hall.
He swiped sticky blood-stained sweat from across his eyes, and blinked. He didn’t have the ability to straighten his back. Both hands pressed against the stainless steel while he rested. It was cold to the touch and soothed his forearms and palms. He blinked again before debating to yell for help. And there it was. His thoughts vortexed. He knew where Bonny was headed.
Maybe she is that stupid?
CHAPTER 8
“Get me out of here.” Hollywood demanded—unsure where ‘here’ was. Loopy was the only way to describe the way his skull felt. It was as if his head turned one way while his brain twisted the other. He poked his tongue around his cheeks and inhaled a
“I miss you,” he mouthed without checking for the others.
Still a hint of doubt remained about the cell phone app, but his heart wanted to trust her completely. She sneered and shot him the middle finger beneath the palm of her other hand. His eyes dropped and he planted his forehead against both forearm. She should’ve been his warmth on this otherwise cold, shitty night. He understood her vehemence, but still, he couldn’t break his gaze—he missed her, their closeness.
“They had to transfer to ground courier, there’s no place to ship swap and running out of river. And, despite the rain and your approach boot prints, I saw footprints in our headlights that were heading away from the boat. I doubt shoe print casting is possible, but best bet is this op’s gone to a ground game. Moline isn’t their target, but it’s secluded enough to launch next phase. Whatever that is.” Like an encaged panther, Rose paced. Hollywood picked up his chin to feign attention, but his eyes dashed back to Voodoo.
“What about my friend tracker app,” Voodoo asked.
“She’s deactivated it—this location was the last transmit,” Rose replied while she handed Voodoo her cell back.
“Split up and scour this thing. Too much time spent aboard to not leave a clue. Hollywood, set this room up as the command center,” Billy said as he left to search.
“You mean set up an infirmary?” Hollywood didn’t lift his head to speak.
Her hair swept across the back of his bent neck. Voodoo’s soft, full lips pressed against Hollywood’s salty skin. Her open mouth hovered there with a slight suction, and flit of her tongue until he rolled his forehead side-to-side on the table and moaned.
“I love you Dwight, but I’m still pissed you doubted me. I am on your side.”
“I know,” his voice was low and muffled against the table. “But you’ve got to trust me too, Krystal.”
The bad weather affected this boat more than it had the ship in Memphis. Shallow waters in the channel made the severe wave action more intense. Hollywood’s already unsettled gut knotted into a strangulation hold. Burying his warm face in sweat-covered palms only made it worse. His elbows were tucked against drawn up, quivering knees. Sickness overcame him. Hollywood stumbled through the narrow passageway.
Feet tangled as he gripped the moist dog handle to yank open a hatch. Finally, he spotted the head. Torso bent at the waist, he stumbled with palm smashed against his mouth. Sweat exploded across his head and upper lip. Mouth ajar, what little he’d eaten over the last two days surrendered itself to the river.
“Hollywood, you okay?” KC asked.
“Fine,” he spit through coughed up blood and bile.
“Rally back in mess hall—nothing here.” She exhaled to show frustration. Hollywood didn’t exactly share her same concerns at the moment. His mouth refilled with blood—he suspected the fall from fast roping might’ve caused internal bleeding.
Shit, I’ve gotta get to a hospital.
He hugged the stainless steel commode while the last mouthful chucked between chapped lips. His breath came hard and labored. Hollywood mustered the strength to push away and stand or crawl back to the mess hall.
He swiped sticky blood-stained sweat from across his eyes, and blinked. He didn’t have the ability to straighten his back. Both hands pressed against the stainless steel while he rested. It was cold to the touch and soothed his forearms and palms. He blinked again before debating to yell for help. And there it was. His thoughts vortexed. He knew where Bonny was headed.
Maybe she is that stupid?
CHAPTER 8
“Get me out of here.” Hollywood demanded—unsure where ‘here’ was. Loopy was the only way to describe the way his skull felt. It was as if his head turned one way while his brain twisted the other. He poked his tongue around his cheeks and inhaled a
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