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A fter moving away from Braxton, the protective walls around Quinn’s battered heart shot up, surrounding it in the sharpest barbed wire. He’d just knocked the breath out of her with that kiss. And, God, yes, she had so many regrets about what had happened over the last five years.

But it was over and done with, right? So there was no point in dwelling over their past mistakes and what could’ve been. Going down that road with Brax again would be her demise. She knew with all certainty that if she lost him again, she’d never recover. Because she’d learned losing someone you can’t live without was the worst kind of pain.

And that wasn’t a chance she could take.

Putting her game face in place, shutting off her conflicted emotions, she turned to him. “You mentioned the final four players,” she reminded him, back to business. “Who are they?”

He shifted, trying to get comfortable, but she’d felt the evidence of his arousal. And, dammit, she couldn’t go there. Remembering how fantastic they’d been together between the sheets wasn’t going to help anything. Especially not when it came to her trying to figure out how to move on from this man once and for all.

“Alvaro Mesa, Malcolm Grendel, Cross Mills…and you.”

Her head snapped up. “The Cardinal?”

But he shook his head. “Your name showed up on The Agency list, but only as Graves.” He gave her a lopsided, half-smile. “You can imagine the confusion and questions I got from my team when we uncovered that little detail.”

Shit. Quinn fidgeted, not sure how to tell him she’d never gone back to her maiden name. Because what did it matter?

He sat up a little straighter. “Why—”

Before he could ask her to explain why she’d kept his last name after they’d divorced, she interrupted him. “So that’s only three targets then.”

He was studying her intently, neither confirming nor denying her last statement. “I think you should come meet my team.”

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“If we’re going to be working together, you’re going to have to—”

“I’m not a very good team player. Besides, I don’t trust your team. And if The Agency discovers we’re hanging out together, my cover will be blown. It’s best if I stay as far away from them, and you, as possible.”

He nodded, but didn’t seem happy about it.

“They want the Russian chemist you have back.” She tilted her head, thinking. “If you give Zaitsev to me, it would help prove my loyalty and—”

“No.”

“Why not? What’re they planning?”

“They want him to make batches of Novichok, a deadly neurotoxin, most likely to take out their enemies.”

“Novichok? What’s so special about it?”

“It’s fast and effective, making it appear as though the victim suffered nothing more sinister than a heart attack,” he explained.

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.”

She chewed on her lower lip, considering the situation and having serious concerns about The Agency’s Novichok plans. The possibility they planned to use it on a bigger target, potentially innocent people, made her gut tighten with dread. There’s no way she wanted to be a part of that.

“Let’s choose a target to start with,” she said, sitting back and ticking the final three players off on her fingers. They debated the pros and cons of each then mutually decided on Alvaro “El Escorpión” Mesa.

Brax looked down at his watch. “I should go before—” his phone buzzed “—they think you found and eliminated me.”

Although his tone was laced with humor, she cringed as she studied his bandaged hand. “Sorry about that.”

The truth was, when it came down to it, she hadn’t been able to do it. She still cared about him, and it’s what had prevented her from following through with her plan to blow him sky-high.

“If it makes you feel any better, I had a change of heart,” she said.

He sent a text off then looked up. “Is that why you hit me with your car?”

She smirked. “I did that to save your life. And don’t be such a baby.”

“By running me over?”

“By luring you away from the tripwire,” she clarified. “I’d hardly say I ran you over. It was just a little bump.”

“Luckily, I bounce pretty good.” He stood up and she did, too, following him over to the door.

They both hesitated. Before she could speak, he reached out and gently cupped her face, catching her by surprise.

“I don’t regret that kiss and I hope you don’t, either.” Resisting the urge to nuzzle her cheek against his palm, she swallowed hard. “Remember, Quinn, I’m not the one who left.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered.

“You always have a choice.” He pulled his hand away and, with a heavy heart, she watched him open the door and leave.

A tidal wave of emotions threatened to drag her under, but she cast them aside and told herself the kiss didn’t matter, and Brax certainly didn’t matter. Their past was dead and buried. From this point forward, they’d work together to eliminate The Agency, she’d have her life restored, and then they’d go their separate ways.

◆◆◆

On the way back to the warehouse, Brax replayed everything that happened with Quinn, bringing him more questions than answers. But it was mostly about where they currently stood with each other.

He wasn’t over her. At this point, he doubted he ever would be. That firecracker of a woman had wedged herself deep inside him, and letting her go meant cutting out a part of his heart. Or, more accurately, ripping the entire organ right out of his chest.

After parking the SUV in the underground garage, Brax mentally prepared himself to face his team. When he’d texted Zane back earlier, he’d said he was with Quinn. They’d have a lot of questions, and he needed to be ready.

Okay, so maybe a lot of questions was a gross understatement. The moment he stepped through the door, he was bombarded on all sides.

“Whoa!” He lifted his hands.

“Let him sit,” Inda declared, clearing a path through people and over to the couch. “Then we grill him.”

After explaining how he’d seen her at the storage unit and then followed her down to the pub, Brax filled the group in on what they’d talked about at her safehouse.

“And now she wants to help us,” he concluded. “She’s willing to play double agent and feed us intel.”

“Can you trust her?” Ryland asked.

“She’s on our side now.” He didn’t exactly answer the question, but it’s all he could give them at that moment.

His teammates exchanged uneasy looks.

“Two days ago she tried to kill you, Pharaoh,” Gray reminded him and Brax scowled. “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

“I told her about Zaitsev and their plans to make more Novichok. She wants nothing to do with it.”

“Sorry, but I don’t trust her,” Saint stated, crossing his large, inked arms. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.”

“It is a little fishy.” Zane’s blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “I say we give her a chance to prove her loyalty, and if she does, we go from there.”

Even though Brax understood their reluctance to trust Quinn, it also annoyed him. “She said she can locate Mesa for us.”

Gray sat up straighter. “If she does that, I’m Team Q.”

“And you only talked? When you were all alone at her place?” Inda asked innocently.

The memory of the hot kiss they’d shared seared through his mind. “Quinn is my ex-wife,” he said, trying to keep his face blank. “We aren’t together anymore.”

“Right, but she kept your last name,” Inda reminded him. “Any idea why?”

“Yeah, has she been pining for you all these years like River pined for me?” Zane asked, and River slugged him in the shoulder.

“I think you have that backwards,” River replied sweetly, batting her lashes at him.

“Quinn doesn’t pine,” Brax stated. “She’s logical, crafty and level-headed. She doesn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve.”

“Sounds a lot like you,” Saint said.

“Yeah, we’re…very similar in certain ways,” Brax admitted. Yet complete opposites, too. It was a strange contradiction.

“Which makes her dangerous,” Inda stated. “So until she gives us a location on Mesa, we can’t trust her.”

As much as he hated to think Quinn would throw them under the bus, he had to be rational about the situation—and that meant keeping his emotions out of it. The others were right. Until she proved her loyalty, he needed to remain wary.

Quinn came through with intel on Mesa’s location exactly one hour later.

Brax was sitting at the kitchen island, eating a frozen burrito, when she called him. Unknown flashed across the screen, but somehow he already knew it was her. “Pharaoh,” he answered.

“I always liked your callsign,” she said in greeting. “Did you know pharaohs were looked upon as more than rulers? They were viewed as gods chosen to lead their people and maintain order.”

“Thanks for the history lesson.”

“Any time. I have a location for you.”

“For Mesa?” His brows shot up.

“He’s in Miami. Opening up a new nightclub where he can sell his product, more than likely.”

Suspicion filled him. His crew had been trying to track down Mesa for months. After they’d dropped in on his private Bahamian island, killed Julien Mercier and blown up Mesa’s stash, the druglord went off the radar.

“How the hell did you find him so fast?”

No hesitation. “I was just ordered by Merlin to neutralize him.”

Fuck, Cross was killing off everyone. Or, maybe this was more about eliminating loose ends.

Brax looked up and realized his team and their significant others were all staring at him, listening intently.

“Banshee, call Pyro and tell her to get the jet ready. We’re going to Miami.”