Page 19

People often mistook him for the same, but his teammates knew differently. Unless forced to by circumstance, he was deliberate. Contained. Precise in his planning. Every good sniper had the same qualities. And face it, he was more than good.
Mason’s thoughts turned to what his team had uncovered about Avery Ellis last night. Hired by the FBI five years ago, she’d earned commendations for valor and investigative skills. But most telling—she was a Bureau kid, following in her legendary father’s footsteps.
That set off alarm bells for Mason. He had to admire her dedication, choosing such a dangerous career after experiencing profound loss. On the other hand, having something to prove often created hotheads prone to emotional decisions.
He studied her profile as she scanned the warehouse complex below. The determined set of her jaw was all too familiar. He saw the same stubborn tilt on Paul’s face whenever his brother insisted he had a foolproof get-rich scheme.
But Paul’s half-baked plans always exploded in his face. If Avery was blinded by some quest to avenge her father, this whole op could blow up too. Mason needed her clear-eyed, not chasing ghosts.
He cleared his throat. “Tell me about your dad.”
She stiffened, eyes never leaving the warehouse. “What about him?”
“How’d he die?” Mason asked gently.
Her throat worked. “Killed breaching a hostage site. Took a bullet saving a bunch of local cops.”
Mason nodded, hearing the echo of old pain in her voice.
She looked at him then, eyes overbright. “Serving is worth the risk. I won’t let his sacrifice, or anyone else’s, be for nothing.”
Message received. Her drive came from a noble place, however reckless it seemed. Together they would do this right: smart, mostly legal, and as safe as possible.
But he wouldn’t let her honorable crusade turn into a death trap for Paul.
Or a suicide mission for one beautiful, determined Special Agent.
A sound from Avery interrupted his daydream. Crouching low, Mason hurried over to her vantage point and lay flat, peering through his binoculars. “What is it?”
She pointed at the warehouse exit. “That’s not normal.”
A vehicle with blacked out windows tore out from the delivery loading docks.
“Definitely unusual,” Mason confirmed.
Alarm shot through him.Paul.
He grabbed his infrared binoculars—the tinted windows obscured nothing to the special optics. He counted three men—the driver and two in back. None of them Paul.
Avery started to rise, intent on pursuit.
Mason stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Nope. No way you’ll get down to your car fast enough.”
“But––”
“It’s not worth alerting them.”
She glared at him, pulling her arm out of his hold, but the anger seemed to fade quickly.
Yeah. Hothead. He’d have to watch that.
He ripped open his backpack and handed her a thermos of hot coffee. “Don’t drink it all,” he ordered.
He stretched his legs, twisting from side to side to keep his back limber while he pulled out his phone to text Paige. She’d have a trace on those plates in a second.
Avery put the thermos top to her lips. He watched, mesmerized, as the steam from the hot brew bathed her face. Between her beauty and her fire, the woman did intrigue him. He could see himself with a woman like her. Driven. Committed.
And just the right amount of crazy.