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I f Quinn thought he was letting her go that easily, she had another thing coming. Braxton watched her race out the open balcony door and use a grappling device to launch herself over the railing. Fucking magnificent and so damn brazen. Turning around, he strode back into his quarters, pulled some clothes on and called Zane.

“What up, Pharaoh?” Zane answered.

“I need you to pull up the security cams we planted on the surrounding blocks.” After the incident at the parking garage, they’d decided to set up a series of hidden cameras covering their block and the next closest two. The cameras ran on a separate network and couldn’t be tampered with, even if someone hacked into the ones running at the warehouse. Plus, Brax liked keeping an eye on their extended perimeter.

“What’s going on?”

“I just had a visit from my ex-wife,” he stated dryly.

Zane cursed. “Let me round the crew up.”

“See you soon.” Brax disconnected the call and scraped a hand over his face. He couldn’t believe she had waltzed right in like she owned the place. She must’ve been staking it out and the second his team left, she struck. So ballsy. He’d always loved that, though. Her take-no-shit attitude and fearless nature.

One thing was certain, though. If she wanted him dead, she would have shot him while he was in the shower. She’d said she wanted to talk, but Neo skittering past had ruined their “moment” and seemed to have spooked her. The possibility of his team returning would’ve sent her running eventually anyway.

Well, now he planned on finding her just like she’d found him. The security cams carefully concealed throughout the neighborhood would help him track her down. They had a lot to discuss, and if she thought she was getting away from him again, she was sorely mistaken.

The moment his team and their significant others returned, they got down to business. With a team of tech geniuses like Zane, River and Lucas “Cipher” Sheridan on his side, they had the answers he needed within minutes.

“She’s driving a dark blue Ford Explorer,” Zane informed him and rattled off the license plate number which his wife, River, immediately plugged in on her end.

“Looks like she looped the cams here at the warehouse,” Lucas reported. “I’m resetting them now. Fortunately, she completely missed the perimeter ones.”

“Do you have an image of her?” Inda asked. She was sitting beside her man and Lucas shook his head.

“I do.” Zane’s fingers flew across his keyboard and, a moment later, everyone’s phones buzzed.

Brax opened the message and stared down at the still image of Quinn captured by one of the cams planted on the block. Even though the grainy picture wasn’t the clearest, there was no mistaking her slender figure and the way his heart thumped harder.

“Damn, Pharaoh, your ex-wife is hot,” Ryland announced, earning a slap on the shoulder from Harper. He pressed a quick kiss to his petite wife’s lips. “But not as gorgeous as you, baby.”

“Good save,” the blonde said with a chuckle.

“She’s really pretty,” Inda agreed.

“And deadly,” Brax reminded them.

“I ran the plates. The car is registered to Cherry Bordeaux. I got a nearby address, too, but it looks like a storage unit.” River shrugged. “Let me do some more digging.”

Cherry. His stomach did a weird drop and tumble. Why had she used his nickname for her?

Brax stood up. “What’s the address?”

◆◆◆

Parking in the shadows across the street, Brax put the SUV in park and turned his attention to the three-story building which housed storage units. He’d told his team he was merely doing a drive-by and then grabbing something to eat. If he saw anything suspicious, he’d call. But the moment he drove past, he felt the overwhelming urge to hang out for a few minutes. He seriously doubted he’d see Quinn, but his gut said otherwise.

It was quiet this time of night and Brax’s mind inevitably wandered back. He didn’t let it happen too often because memories could turn painful fast. Especially the good ones, and knowing how he’d never have another one with her made his chest ache.

Before returning to active duty, his superiors highly recommended he file for divorce. Truthfully, it felt more like an order—one he couldn’t disobey if he didn’t want to kiss his military career goodbye. They said it was important to distance himself from her. He didn’t want to do it but, at the same time, he couldn’t stay married to a ghost. Because one thing was certain—she was never coming back. She was in way too much trouble.

As a last attempt to get over her and end things, to get his life back on track, he’d filed for divorce. Since they’d been living in California, he didn’t have to prove she did anything wrong. Even though she did abandon him. As a no fault state, all he had to do was cite irreconcilable differences. Ironically, the law made it far too easy to give up on the person you vowed to love and cherish forever.

His stomach growled, interrupting his dreary thoughts. Funnily enough, today wasn’t the first time she’d pulled a gun on him. Two months into their marriage, he’d returned early from a mission. On the way home, he stopped at a chain restaurant they both liked to pick up a burger and fries for himself and an order of mozzarella sticks for her.

He’d wanted to surprise her, but he was the one who ended up surprised when she thought he was an intruder and caught him in the crosshairs of her Glock. They’d had a good laugh over it while eating but, to this day, he couldn’t see a plate of mozzarella sticks without immediately thinking of her. Or a chocolate-covered strawberry or a plumeria flower. And her honey-dipped jasmine scent had permanently ingrained itself in his senses. And don’t even get him started on cherries. Anything with the damn fruit made him think about her.

Even after all this time apart, he still craved her.

After several minutes of watching the main entrance, the door opened and Quinn walked out. He pulled in a sharp breath, excited by the turn of events. She moved with a grace and stealth he could admire. She’d also gotten rid of the backpack she’d been wearing earlier which was probably full of gadgets and goodies.

Leaning back, keeping out of sight, he watched her head down the sidewalk, and then he made the split second decision to follow her.

◆◆◆

After she stashed her drone and go bag full of equipment, Quinn’s stomach growled. As she made her way out of the storage unit, it belatedly occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten anything substantial since her stakeout of Ex Nihilo’s warehouse began yesterday. No wonder her stomach felt like it was eating itself.

There was a lowkey pub a couple of minutes up the street and she was craving some greasy bar food and alcohol after confronting Brax. Maybe she was still a little too close to his location, but she knew him well enough to comfortably predict he’d be sitting with his team right now, dissecting exactly how she’d gotten into their warehouse and what their next move against her would be.

Completely unconcerned, she walked down to the pub and found a quiet, dark corner. When the waitress came over, Quinn ordered mozzarella sticks, her guilty pleasure, and a glass of Pinot Noir. As she was contemplating dessert, too—because let’s face it, today was a win since she was still alive—the chair across from her scraped back.

Quinn wasn’t in the mood for company or to be hit on. With an annoyed look, she glanced up, ready to tell the jerk to take a walk…and froze. Oh, shit. Braxton sat down across from her, a smirk on his face.

“We weren’t done talking,” he said smoothly.

Quinn swallowed back a retort as the waitress returned with her wine, her appetite disappearing as tension tightened her limbs. Dammit, she shouldn’t have underestimated him. Sneaky bastard.

“Did you want something to drink?” the waitress asked him.

“Whiskey. Whatever your best one is,” he added, and she nodded, slipping away.

“I see some things never change,” Quinn murmured, taking a sip of her wine. Doing her best to appear cool, she met his intense silver eyes. “I doubt this place has Macallan, though.”

Nerves strung taut, she casually slid her hands beneath the tabletop and did a quick visual sweep of the room, searching for his team members. She automatically reached for her Glock and, the moment she did, Brax moved fast.

Beneath the scarred table, they both swiftly drew their pistols, aiming at one another. The air between them shifted, the tension skyrocketed, and everything in Quinn went on high alert.

Their gazes locked. Hard and unyielding, full of mistrust.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed when the waitress returned and set the whiskey in front of Brax.

“Here you go. Would you like anything else?” she asked, but neither looked up at her.

“No,” they both answered at the same time.

“Um, okay, well, the mozzarella sticks should be ready shortly.”

Neither replied and the server hurried away.

“You gonna shoot me, Cherry?” Brax asked.

“Call me that again and I might.”

“You used to like when I called you that.”

“I used to like a lot of things you did. Not anymore.”

A long, strained moment passed between them before Brax sighed. “Instead of a shoot-out, I suggest we call a truce and talk. I’d rather things not get messy in a public place.”

As nice as that sounded, Quinn didn’t exactly trust him. Hell, she didn’t trust anyone except her family, and that only included the women. Being abandoned by most of the important men in her life at one point or another—starting with her father who’d skipped out when she was still just a baby—had left her with some pretty massive trust issues. She’d taken a huge chance giving her heart to Brax, and even he had let her down.

But, he was right. Shooting each other right now would get them nowhere.

“Fine,” she gritted out. Very slowly, she re-holstered her pistol and he followed suit. They both reached for their glass at the exact same time and took a sip, eyeing each other over the rim.

Sometimes, they were so in sync, it was scary.

Before either said a word, the server quickly delivered the plate of mozzarella sticks and disappeared.

“I think we scared her,” Quinn commented. Across from her, Brax watched her pick up a battered cheese stick and dip it in marinara sauce. She paused right before taking a bite. “What?”

“I see some things never change,” he murmured, echoing her earlier words.

“Yeah, you still have a stick up your ass.” She tossed him a sugary smile and bit into the fried deliciousness.

His face screwed up. “I was referring to your love of mozzarella sticks,” he said, voice dry, watching as she struggled to bite through the long strings of cheese. A funny look passed over his stupidly handsome face, but she didn’t want to analyze it. That could get messy, too.

She swallowed and took another sip of wine. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? The Agency wants you dead and I want to know why. What did the upright Boy Scout and his crew do to piss them off?”

“I’m going to be honest and open with you, and I expect the same in return. Deal?”

“Deal.” Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. When was Braxton Graves not honest? He didn’t have a deceptive bone in his body. Truthfully, she’d always admired his forthrightness. While so many people oozed BS, Brax didn’t. Never had, either.

“Earlier this year, I was contacted about leading a ghost ops team whose job was to neutralize enemies of the United States. The offer…well, it came at a good time.” His voice choked up slightly, snagging her attention. She didn’t miss the shadows that flitted over his eyes, but they vanished almost as quickly as they appeared. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I accepted and everything went fine…until it didn’t.”

“What happened?”

“We became the targets.”

“Why?”

“Some bullshit excuse about a mole in our ranks. But it was all a lie. The real traitor turned out to be our handler, Merlin, AKA Nathan ‘Cross’ Mills.”

Her brows shot up. “We’ve spoken. Well, messaged.”

“About what exactly?” He leaned closer, turning his glass in slow circles on the tabletop.

Pressing her lips together, she reached for another mozzarella stick, trying to decide what she wanted to reveal. She wasn’t ready to tell him she was the Cardinal, a world-renowned assassin, hired to kill him and the rest of Ex Nihilo. But, she could confirm what they already knew. “You’re right,” she said carefully, taking a bite. “They want your team eliminated.”

His eyes narrowed, waiting for her to continue.

“After I left the CIA—”

“Ran away,” he interjected sourly.

How dare he? Quinn’s hackles rose and hot anger seared through her veins.

“Seriously? Are we going there? Because I have a fuckload to say about that too, Braxton.”

“So let’s talk. But not here.”

He really wanted to talk about what happened? After throwing her to the wolves and abandoning her? A part of her had been desperate to hear his side of the story for the last five years, while the other part of her wanted to murder him. Slowly and in a very creative way.

Quinn shoved her chair back and stood up. “Let’s go then.”

Braxton tossed enough money on the table to cover their drinks, her food and a tip. Instead of thanking him, she spun away, her heart beating so hard, she thought it might burst from her chest.

She was finally going to get the full truth, and she didn’t know if it would make things better between them or a whole helluva lot worse.