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Because he needed the levity to distract him from all the heavy memories, the adrenaline rush to safety still jangling through him, Flash grinned and said, “Well, you lived. You get to cross that one off the bucket list.”
Baxter snorted. “Think I maybe should’ve gone for the lottery win.” Everyone chuckled as the engines roared, the pilots cutting through the air, the ground a blur as the jungle stretched out below, dark and endless.
Flash let out a slow breath, forcing his shoulders to relax. He looked at the woman asleep against the big Shadowguard’s chest. He trembled. One mission ending, another one beginning as his eyes caressed her. They had her. They had all of them. That was the job. But it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Not for him, and sure as hell not for Herrera.
Caracas,Venezuela, Outside the Bar, Cruz Del Destino
The city hummed with energy, a vibrant mix of chaos and life pulsing through its streets. Neon lights flickered over cracked pavement, casting reflections in puddles left behind by the afternoon rain. Vendors lined the sidewalks, peddlingeverything from fried plantains to cheap cigars, their voices mixing with the honking of impatient taxis and the muffled bass thumping from nearby clubs. The air smelled of grilled meat, gasoline, and the ever-present tang of humidity.
Dagger scanned their surroundings as he and his brothers moved through the night, his mind never fully at ease. Caracas had a way of keeping a man on edge. Too many alleys, too many blind spots. Even off-duty, his instincts never shut down.
“What’s up with you and our fierce little owl?” Brawler asked. “She’s one of us, that’s for sure. No denying she’s a fighter. Gotta respect that, owls don’t make a sound when they hunt, but they never miss their mark.”
"Either you or that canine are putting on some pounds," Flash jabbed, completely ignoring Brawler’s question and comments as they neared the bar. The name snagged him, but he couldn’t figure out why. Ever since the chopper had touched down and the two Shadowguard and Baxter had been whisked off in ambulances, Dagger was experiencing nothing but a cold knot of rage, and it wasn’t tied to the mission.
Brawler rolled his eyes. Flash deflected when he didn’t want to deal with his own shit.Damn. Was he doing the same?
Brawler sighed, then let it go. "What? This?" He stuck his backside out with exaggerated flair. "This is a red, white, and blue ass."
That earned a round of laughter. Tex shook his head, while Easy smirked and Shark took the opportunity to slap Brawler’s ass with a sharpwhack. “That’s a fine, big ass.”
“Maybe Flash has a touch of the little green monster,” Twister suggested, his grin sharp.
Flash scoffed. "Jealous? Of Brawler’s ass?” “Ha, but I see your point, Christian. It does stretch from sea to shining sea.”
Brawler burst out laughing. "At least I have one, bean pole."
The bar loomed ahead, a two-story dive with metal shutters halfway pulled down over the windows. Flickering neon bathed the wet pavement in ghostly light, the glow cutting through the dark like a fork in the road, two paths, two choices, no turning back.
The bass-heavy music inside vibrated through the ground. A mix of locals and foreigners crowded around, their voices rising over the music. Dagger’s gaze flickered over the patrons, assessing. Possible threats? No one obvious. But he didn’t like the look of a few men lingering near the entrance, watching too closely. Herrera’s lookouts? Spies?
They stepped inside, the heavy scent of alcohol, sweat, and fried food hitting instantly. His stomach grumbled. The place was dim, a haze of cigarette smoke clinging to the air like a bad memory. A row of battered tables lined the walls, while a long, scuffed-up bar dominated the far side.
Then he saw her.
Quinn.
What theactualfuck was she doing here? In this city?
His whole body locked down, tension roaring through him at the thought of his nephews losing another parent. His fingers twitched, itching to grab his phone, to book the first goddamn flight out of here for her shapely ass. To get her gone.
To get her safe.
He wanted to drag her outside, shake some sense into her, demand what the hell she thought she was doing here when Elijah and Ezra needed at least one parent who could be there for them. The sheer recklessness of it exploded inside him, a wildfire of rage and something darker, something deeper, clawing at his chest.
Then he took in who she was with.
A man and a woman.
The man was hard, sharp-edged, built like a weapon. Military, maybe former. Not a SEAL. Too much lone-wolf arrogance for that. A Delta a-hole, maybe. The kind of guy who operated alone and liked it that way.
The woman was forgettable, fading into the shadows of Quinn’s blazing, impossible presence.
Then he saw it. The glass in front of her. It stopped his heart cold. It was clear, colorless and damning, sitting within reach. Tequila? His mouth dried. His gut dropped.
No.
No.