Page 3

Sliding into our usual booth, I watch as the others settle in around me. Eli drops down on my left, his muscular frame filling out his black leather jacket in a way that turns more than a few heads as we pass. His dark hair still hanging around his face, a faint scar slicing through his left eyebrow—courtesy of an earlier bust gone sideways—and he catches me watching, offering a cocky smirk.

“See something you like, boss?” he teases, nudging me lightly.

“Hard pass,” I reply smoothly, sipping my whiskey. “I’ve seen enough of you for two lifetimes, Eli.”

He laughs, utterly unfazed as he reaches for his bourbon glass, eyes sparkling. “Your loss.”

Jensen snorts, shaking his head as he stretches out comfortably across from us. Jensen’s the oldest, mid-thirties, built as solid as a mountain, his dark skin inked with tattoos that map out his entire military and undercover history. He’s grinning at me, clearly entertained. “Ever get bored of rejection, Eli?”

“Adds spice,” Eli retorts, raising a brow.

Matteo scans the crowd, responding dryly, “Your idea of spice seriously concerns me.” Matteo is tall, and muscular with an intensity that rarely fades, his dark eyes constantly scanning the room, taking in every detail. Tonight his thick brown hair is messy from the wind. He catches my glance briefly and offers me a tiny, crooked smirk.

“Enjoying the view, Seanna?” Matteo asks.

I roll my eyes and raise my whiskey, savoring the slow burn as it slides down my throat. “Don’t flatter yourself. Just wondering if you ever smile wider than that.”

He scoffs, but the corners of his lips curve slightly, eyes dancing. “Not likely.”

Eli chuckles again, leaning back comfortably. “Leave Matteo alone, Seanna. If he smiled any bigger, he’d scare away the locals.”

I grin into my drink, relaxing into the rhythm of our easy banter. Tonight my long black waves are braided down my back, keeping them away from my face, fully exposing my bright blue eyes. I’ve noticed a few stray glances already; I know my looks draw attention, but tonight I’m not interested in playing nice.

We’re halfway through our second round when I feel a presence beside the booth. Turning my head slowly, I see a younger man hovering near me. He’s attractive enough in that clean-cut, overly-confident way, probably used to charming his way into whatever he wants. He runs his hand through his blond hair, offering me what I suppose he considers his best smile as he leans in closer.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he says, trying to pitch his voice over the music. “Wanna dance?”

I tilt my head slightly, slowly letting my gaze drift over him from head to toe, openly appraising. Then I meet his eyes again, smile colder than the ice in my glass. “Sweetheart, I'd snap you like a twig before the chorus even starts. Save yourself the trouble.”

Matteo snickers into his drink, Jensen bursts out laughing, and Eli whistles low, amused. Humiliated, the frat-boy stammers something incoherent and quickly vanishes into the crowd.

“Did you have to crush him that hard?” Jensen chuckles, shaking his head.

“Better shattered pride than false hope,” I say coolly, taking another sip of bourbon. “Fragile egos bore me.”

Eli grins, swirling his drink. “That was cold.”

I arch an eyebrow playfully. “You expect anything less?”

He shakes his head, a warm chuckle escaping him. “Never.”

Matteo shifts slightly, glancing down at me, his voice low enough only I can hear. “You do seem to enjoy breaking spirits.”

I look up into his dark eyes, matching his subtle smirk with one of my own. “Only the weak ones.”

Eli raises his glass suddenly, cutting into the moment. “To Diego—may he realize quickly just how badly he fucked up.”

“To Diego!” Jensen echoes, laughing again as we all clink glasses, the sharp sound lost in the club’s loud music.

I lean back comfortably, the warmth of the bourbon settling nicely in my chest. Nights like these remind me exactly why I do what I do. The danger, the power plays, the thrill—it’s intoxicating. But the bond with this team, forged in fire and sealed in whiskey, makes it worth every risk.

Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow, the real work begins again. After all, breaking arrogant men is absolutely the best part of this job.

Chapter 2

Seanna

Thenightairiscool, a sharp bite as I pull into the gravel driveway, tires crunching beneath me like bones under pressure. My cabin sits at the edge of my parents’ sprawling estate. It’s just far enough to pretend I’ve carved out my own slice of solitude, but still close enough to remind me that I’m never truly alone, no matter how secluded the property is.