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Q uinn parked her Explorer and looked out the windshield at Braxton’s team. They stood on the tarmac near the private jet, all turning at once when she pulled up. Facing them in person wasn’t going to be easy. She’d told Brax she would meet him at the airport because she had no intention of sitting in one of their Suburbans in awkward silence on the drive over. It was a good decision, too, because the moment she got out of her car, she felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. As she walked over to join them, she felt the weight of their stares, which ranged from curious to wary to outright hostile. They didn’t trust her, and she could hardly blame them.

Time to prove my worth and loyalty, she thought, as Braxton gave the official introduction.

“Hi,” she said, doing her best not to show any sign of weakness in front of the intimidating group. She knew their history, knew that each one of them was a serious badass, and she reminded herself that she was, too.

“Former CIA, right?” Her attention shifted to their hacker, Zane “Banshee” Hawkins. “I worked in Navy intel.”

Yeah, she already knew. He’d been part of Black Squadron, the ultra-secretive part of DEVGRU tasked with intelligence, reconnaissance, and surveillance. They were the “spying wing,” often blending in and assimilating with the locals in an attempt to gain their trust and ferret out important intel. She would’ve fit in perfectly. Especially since it was the one squadron that allowed women operators.

“Yeah, until they fucked me over. But, hey, I’m not bitter or anything,” she added with a sarcastic tilt of her lips.

Nearby, Ryland “Rip” Mills snorted back a laugh, and when she glanced over, he gave her a big, white smile. “I like her,” he announced and slapped Brax on the back.

The two biggest men weren’t smiling, though. Grayson “Demon” Ellis and Nik “Saint” Valentine may have given her a nod of acknowledgment, but they didn’t trust her and made no show of pretense. While the one known as Demon reminded her more of a huge, gruff lion, Saint’s endless black ink and permanent frown lines screamed danger. She noticed his wedding ring and wondered what woman was brave enough to marry such a fierce-looking man.

“I’m Inda,” the dark-haired woman said, tilting her head, caramel-colored eyes serious and assessing. “And if you fuck us over in any way or hurt any of these guys—and I’m talking physically or emotionally—it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Wow. And Quinn thought she was ballsy.

“I’m only here to help,” Quinn assured the feisty one known as Bruja.

“Just remember who you’re helping,” Saint commented.

Mentally steeling herself against the tough crowd, she looked over to gauge Brax’s reaction. But he kept his face carefully blank as he leaned down to grab her bag. “Let’s go.”

The group boarded the plane and Quinn settled down in a seat by the window. She had no idea what she would need on this op, so she brought her duffel bag full of goodies, including everything from gadgets to disguises. Being able to switch-up her appearance at a moment’s notice had been an important skill she’d learned and perfected as an agent.

After stowing their gear, the team settled into their seats and Brax sat down next to her, buckling up.

“Wow. Tough crowd,” she murmured under her breath.

“They don’t trust you.”

“That’s an understatement.” She could feel the chill, and it had nothing to do with the cool December air outside. “What about you?”

Turning in her seat, she faced Brax and saw a muscle jump in his cheek.

“Ask me after this op.”

That meant no. She leaned back and started chewing on her thumbnail, feeling like an outsider. But what did she expect? That they would embrace her without question after she’d been hired to kill them? After she and their team leader divorced and were now on shaky ground?

“What’s wrong?” Brax asked.

“What? Nothing.”

“You’re chewing your nails which means something is upsetting you.”

“God, do you always have to remember every single detail about everything in the world?” She slid her hand under her thigh so she’d stop gnawing on her nails. “I’m not upset. I’m—”

Surrounded by people who hate me and think I hurt you. And that I’ll hurt you again.

Why did that bother her so much?

“You’re what?”

Before she could answer, a leggy woman with dark reddish-brown hair climbed in and shut the cabin door. Her gaze zeroed in on Quinn, but she didn’t smile. Fidgeting, Quinn began chewing on her nail again. Brax must’ve told them all she was the devil.

And maybe she deserved it.

“Flight time is four hours, fifty-five minutes,” the pilot announced. “Let’s try to get in and out, okay, guys?”

“Why?” Ryland asked. “You got a hot date lined up?”

“Maybe.” She smirked. Her attention moved back over to Quinn. “Just so you’re aware, I have a hard and fast rule about traitors.”

Quinn lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated.

“They get tossed out the cabin door at thirty-thousand feet.” She smiled. “Welcome aboard.”

“Fair enough,” Quinn said in a low voice, watching as the woman in the bomber jacket disappeared into the cockpit.

Glancing over at Brax, who was trying to suppress a grin, something that felt a lot like jealousy curled in Quinn’s gut. “Did you sleep with her?”

“What?” His silver-gray eyes narrowed. “Who I slept with after you left really isn’t any of your business.”

“You’re right.” His words stabbed into her heart like a thousand little daggers. Just like the tattoo on his arm. “I told you why I had to leave. Putting you in danger wasn’t an option.”

When she lifted her thumb and started chewing the nail, he reached over and gently tugged her hand down. He didn’t release it, just kept his large, warm one over hers as he said, “I can take care of myself. And, no, I never slept with Hunter. She’s just a friend and a damn good pilot.”

His admission filled her heart with a weird sort of hope. Oh, God, did she want to get back together with him? No, that couldn’t be it. But she wouldn’t be averse to throwing caution to the wind and letting off some steam with him. Braxton had been the best, most fulfilling sex of her life, and she wanted that again. Yearned for it desperately.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she locked gazes with him and steeled herself for rejection. “Do you ever still…miss us? What we had, I mean.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. When she started to pull her hand away, he laced his fingers through hers. “Your love has haunted me like a ghost. I’ve spent the last five years missing what we had, Quinn.”

Her heart sped up at his raw honesty and they squeezed hands. There was a reason she hadn’t been with anyone since losing Brax. It was because no one else had come close to being the man he was.

“Me, too,” she whispered. Something shifted between them and Quinn’s heart felt lighter in her chest. “I have your back, Brax. I promise.”

“I have yours, too.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it after what I did.” She pressed her lips together, guilt pressing down and making it harder to breathe. And certainly making it harder to look into his beautiful molten-silver eyes. “I’m sorry for almost killing you.” She gave him a sheepish, half-smile.

“What stopped you? I mean, you had it all set up and I walked right into your trap.”

She released a soft sigh. “My conscience decided to remind me about Afghanistan.”

“The IED.”

She nodded. “I figured I owed you one.”

“I appreciate your generosity.” Although his tone was dry, he didn’t seem angry.

“How’s the burn?”

He lifted his other hand which was still bandaged. “Much better. I probably don’t need to wrap it anymore.”

It had been so long since they’d been able to talk so freely and openly with each other. And she really, really liked it. It felt like they were heading in a new, positive direction. One where they could be allies instead of enemies.

A few minutes later, Hunter announced they were at cruising altitude and could move around the plane. Brax released her hand and she instantly missed its secure warmth.

“We need to lock down a plan,” he said, unbuckling his lap belt. Pushing up out of the seat, she watched as he addressed his team, shifted into the amazing, competent, fearless leader she’d always known him to be.

◆◆◆

By the time they arrived in Miami, Brax made sure Plans A, B and C were all in place and ready to execute. He’d always been thorough like that. No matter what he did, his goal was to succeed, and sometimes that meant adapting to a new situation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to successfully apply that theory to his marriage which had crashed and burned within three months.

Today, however, he expected to defeat Alvaro Mesa.

After saying goodbye to Hunter and Zane—who would be running things from the plane, along with River and Lucas back in San Francisco—the team separated. They climbed into two waiting SUVs prearranged by Inda, and drove to a safehouse provided by Dash Slater. The man had secure hideouts all over the world and Brax was grateful for his generosity. Although they’d both been members of Delta Force, they’d only met in passing and never done an op together since they were each always leading a team. Slater had quite the reputation as a badass and it came with Brax’s full respect.

Once they arrived at the safehouse, Quinn and Inda disappeared into one of the bedrooms to get her ready while Brax, Gray, Ryland and Saint started emptying their duffel bags and getting equipment organized.

Plan A involved Quinn slipping into Onyx, Mesa’s new nightclub, and keeping tabs on the cartel leader from a distance while Brax and his team got into position outside. He and the men would surround the club, monitoring the entrance and exit points. Inda was their getaway driver and Quinn’s job was to alert everyone which door Mesa would eventually exit.

Then whoever had the shot would deliver a bullet to Mesa’s head.

Gray hoped to be the one to take the shot, and Brax couldn’t blame him. They were approaching the two year anniversary of the ambush of Gray’s SEAL team. Mesa had given the order for his men to kill the SEALs, and it was a miracle Gray had survived. He’d been the only one to escape with his life, battling severe survivor’s guilt until he’d met Aubrey, who’d helped him heal.

Aubrey wasn’t happy about Gray having to deal with Mesa again, but she knew he wanted—needed—closure. Even so, she was most likely a nervous wreck back in SF while she waited for an update.

Brax checked over his weapons and was just placing a small comms unit in his ear when the bedroom door opened and the women walked out. He froze, eyes glued to Quinn who wore a very short, skintight black dress baring one smooth shoulder, and sky-high platform heels. A long ebony wig cascaded past her shoulders and his dick twitched in response.

“You might want to close your mouth,” Saint murmured beside him, slipping an extra cartridge in a pocket of his cargo pants.

“And don’t forget to wipe away the drool,” Ryland added, smothering a laugh.

Fuckers. Braxton snapped his mouth closed and frowned. Why was she dressed so damn sexy? Her job was to stay in the shadows and update him and the team on Mesa’s movements, not seduce the asshole.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, stalking across the room. “What’re you wearing?”

“A black wig,” she answered, looking surprised by his question.

“I’m not talking about the wig,” he growled, feeling a surge of protectiveness, eyes lowering to her full, pushed-up breasts. Or, maybe what he was experiencing was just good, old-fashioned jealousy with a side of possessiveness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked down and pulled the neckline lower, showing more cleavage.

Brax clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to reach over and yank it back up.

“We need to go,” Inda announced, unable to hide the smile in her voice. He glanced over at her and frowned. E tu Brute? Hell, he felt like Julius Caesar, betrayed by his own damn friend.

His team all appeared so damn amused and it grated on his nerves. For a group who hadn’t been very welcoming of Quinn earlier, they seemed to be changing their tune. He cast a suspicious glance at Inda, wondering what the women had been talking about for the past two hours. The brunette tossed him a wink.

“Yes, let’s go,” Quinn agreed. “I want to get in there and find a good spot where I can keep my eyes on Mesa.”

She picked her Glock up off the table and tucked it into a small sequined handbag.

“Eyes only, Quinn,” Brax ground out. “One of us will take the shot once he’s outside.”

The last thing he wanted was a gunshot to cause chaos and panic in the nightclub and possibly even allow Mesa a chance to escape.

“That’s the plan,” she stated breezily, neither confirming nor denying her true intentions. As she sashayed past him, his eyes dropped to her ass and he swallowed hard.

Focus , he warned himself. On the op, not on your ex-wife’s fucking amazing assets.

Brax let out an exasperated sigh. He had a feeling it might turn into a long night.