Page 97

Maybe it was a story. Maybe it was fate.
She looked down at Flash, wounded, fading away from her like she was already gone. But she looked at him, bloodied, reckless, brilliant, and something inside her knew. She’d found him before. She would find him again. Even if this life tried to take him from her.
A wind stirred the trees, low and shivering. The scent ofceibablossoms curled around her. And for a heartbeat, she swore she heard her abuela’s voice whisper her name…Lechuza…soft and calling, like the jungle itself had opened its mouth.
She was powerless to refuse, even if whatever was out there swallowed her whole. Its voice had weight. Purpose. Desperation. The fine hairs on the back of her neck lifted, something inside her stirredansweringthat call.
Like it knew that voice.
Hell,Brawlerhatedmissing the action.
He swept in with the team, boots thudding, rifle up, adrenaline primed,too late.
He expected something brutal. Messy. War. Nothing inside explained the two men who had come tearing out of the compound, crashing through brush and foliage like demons were at their heels. Right into them. Not a mark on them. Wild-eyed. Gibbering. One of them screamed and tried to bolt, ran straight into Shark, who took him down with a curse and a flexcuff. The other didn’t even resist. He dropped to his kneesand begged for something no one understood. It took two SEALs each to lock them down. Even then, theyshook. From whatever they’d seen. The place was a goddamn graveyard. Bodies everywhere, scattered like shattered armor, blood pooling on cracked stone, the air choked with smoke and gunpowder.
In the center of it all. Herrera.
Dead.
His throat a shredded mess, body splayed open like awarning. A kill made clean.Purposeful.Lechuza’s mark carved into his shirt like a signature. Brawler stared. “Damn.” Efficient as hell. He’d bet she didn’t even flinch.
Tex's rifle lowered first, eyes scanning, jaw flexing. “Well, shit.”
Brawler blew out a low whistle, stepping over a body still twitching, noting Dagger was bare chested, and Quinn was wearing his blood-flecked, torn filthy T-shirt.
“What the hell, Dagger, Flash? You couldn’t save us a few?” he asked as his blood boiled. Knowing what Herrera had done to Lechuza, he only wished he could kill the bastard again. He reached into his pack and pulled out two bottles of water and walked over to the couple, offering them.
Dagger leaned against a table, face bloodied and unreadable, but Brawler could feel the burn of leftover adrenaline rolling off him. Still keyed up, still dangerous.
“Should’ve moved faster,” Dagger said, voice low, accepting the water, opening one for Quinn, then chugging his own.
“We restrained two guys, pale as hell, mentally broken, running for their lives,” Brawler muttered. “What the hell happened in there?”
Dagger closed his eyes, scrubbed a hand over his face, and shrugged. “Something I can’t define without sounding fucking crazy. It had to be adrenaline. Dehydration. Mind playing tricks.”
Brawler hovered nearby, still picturing those two guys, shaking, wild-eyed, like they'd seen something worse than death. Hmm. Dagger wasn’t crazy. That much he knew.
She smiled and nodded. “I am now, and I’m not the only sweetheart here.”
Brawler rubbed the back of his neck, hating the warm flutter in his chest. Shit, he was getting soft
Shark snorted at her words, a grin from ear to ear, then nudged a corpse with his boot. “Remind me never to get on Lechuza’s bad side.”
Brawler’s eyes landed on her. Damn. Cold steel and quiet rage wrapped in grace. She didn’t even spare him a glance. Those golden eyes hooked onto Twister like talons. Her hands were on a makeshift bandage…her T-shirt. She was stripped to the waist, her catsuit unzipped, nothing but her sports bra doing little to hide a figure that made Brawler’s brain short-circuit for half a second before he shoved the thought aside and got back to the bleeding idiot on the ground
Flash, of course, the bleeding idiot that he was couldn’t be serious for one damn second. “Can we save the post-game commentary until after I stop bleeding out?”
“Hurry,” she said, her face composed, but something frantic shone in her eyes.
Twister was already on the move. “There’s my cue.” he said. “Hey,sweetheart, help me roll him.”
Tex snapped into motion, barking orders. “Bondo, clear the doorway. Easy and Shark, set a perimeter. Watch for the chopper.” He hit his comm. “Where the fuck is exfil? We’ve got wounded.”
Brawler groaned at the endearment. “I’ll drop you if you call me that again,” he groused.
“Later, after I save Flash’s life,” Twister said. “Get your big-shouldered backside over here.”
Brawler rushed over and went to one knee, hands already moving. “Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on, Doc.” He gentled Flash down with surprising care, shoulder to shoulder with Twister like they'd done this a thousand times before because they had.