Shameless by Ann Major Page B

room.
    They swayed to the music. There was something so sexy about being fully dressed and having to restraintheir passion in such a refined setting. Anybody who saw them had to know what they really wanted to do was to strip each other naked.
    â€œThe guys love you. They understand why I love you, too.”
    â€œI hope I made a good impression. I want you to be proud of me.”
    â€œProud? They’re jealous as hell. Especially Mercado.”
    â€œWhy do the other guys dislike him?”
    â€œLong story. Mercado’s okay, though.”
    â€œBut the other guys…”
    â€œThey’ll figure out I’m right. You’ll see.”
    The dance ended. When they went back to the table, Ricky, who looked even angrier than before, stood and jerked her chair out. “You call that a waltz, old buddy?” he muttered, attempting a light tone. “You’re losing your touch.” The other guys frowned at him, but he only scowled back at them.
    â€œRelax, bro,” Luke whispered.
    Before she could sit, Ricky grabbed Celeste’s hand. “My turn,” he growled, tugging her away from Phillip. “If it’s okay with you, old buddy?”
    Of course, after that, all of Phillip’s friends had to dance with her. Watching them from the table, Mercado grew more sullen by the minute. Then dinner was served and for a while the tensions at their table eased.
    Most of the men had lobster tails with a thick buttery sauce, the kind of sauce Celeste didn’t approve of. Mercado refused to eat, saying he’d drink his dinner. Phillip had ordered a slab of steak at least four-inches thick, along with a baked potato he stuffed with sour cream and chives.
    When everybody was eating, Ricky said, “I’m gladyou’re back, Celeste. Glad you’re taming the old warmonger.”
    â€œWarmonger?” she whispered. “He’s retired from all that.”
    â€œIn your dreams,” Mercado said.
    Ty and the other Marines shot Mercado a warning look, but he ignored them and said, “Now that you’re home, sir, maybe I won’t receive any sudden calls to go down to Central America.”
    â€œCentral America?” Terrified, Celeste set her fork down. “What do you mean? Ricky—what on earth are you talking about?”
    â€œEver heard of a hellhole called Mezcaya?”
    â€œHell, Mercado,” Luke whispered. “See what you’ve done, she’s as pale as a sheet.”
    â€œMezcaya?” she whispered in alarm. “Isn’t that the country in Central America that’s a breeding ground for terrorists?”
    â€œEver heard of a particularly nasty little group called El Jefe?” Mercado asked. “They run guns…even from here in Mission Creek.”
    Phillip interrupted. “Can’t we talk about something else? How about the weather?”
    â€œHas he been down to Mezcaya recently?” Celeste whispered, afraid to hear the answer.
    â€œThat cut on his cheek. Picked up some shrapnel in Mezcaya right before you showed up on his doorstep, Celeste, didn’t you old buddy?”
    â€œIt was a rock,” Phillip said. “A lousy rock.”
    â€œHell, you nearly bought it,” Ricky said.
    Spence hissed at Mercado to shut up, but when Phillip shot Spence a warning look, Spence stabbed his potato rather violently.
    â€œAll he told me was that he wasn’t wearing a seat belt,” Celeste murmured tightly.
    Ricky laughed. “Why would he be wearing a belt—in The Cave?”
    â€œThe Cave?”
    â€œShort for dungeon, sweetheart. He killed a guy, so they locked him up. Ty got him out. When the chopper came—”
    â€œChopper?” Suddenly her throat squeezed shut and she could barely breathe. “Phillip, you said you’d retired—”
    â€œI am! Damn it, Mercado,” Phillip began. “Celeste lost her mother and her father when she was young. She has a