Page 3

1

With the encounter with Hummingbird still tingling through his body, Cooper “Skull” Sullivan arrived at base and stepped into the ready room—only to be surprised to find her already there. The CIA Shadowguard, fresh from Bogotá where she’d helped take down the Alzate Cartel, looked every bit the professional: fearless, a master of disguises, as natural at lying as she was breathing. Skull swore he’d left the bar where they’d first met before she reappeared. How the hell had she gotten there ahead of him? Had she sprouted wings?

Everyone else was there, too—Hummingbird’s sarcastic, lethal partner Strekoza, and the rest of his teammates, except for Hazard. The look on their CIA liaison’s face, Anna Graham told him something was very wrong. What had gone south?

Skull sat down next to Carter “Boomer” Finley. Boomer smiled at him at first, then his expression sharpened as he studied Skull’s face from every angle. “Is that …glitter?” he asked, reaching out to touch Skull’s neck. Skull batted the hand away. Kelly “Breakneck” Gatlin, seated on the other side, smirked.

“What the fuck, man?” Skull growled. He threw a scathing glance toward that damn woman and her fucking fairy dust. Beyond the scorching heat and the attraction they generated, he was inexplicably drawn to her multifaceted personality. He wanted to know her better, but he was wary of unraveling the mystery completely. It would be a matter of peeling back the many facades until he discovered the real woman beneath. Her offer of fire, energy, humor, sass and passion in his bed was downright seductive—if only he could clear her from his thoughts.

Boomer glanced at the tip of his index finger, then shot a sideways look at Hummingbird. His brows lifted. “Have you been a big bad wolf?”

What kind of question was that? Of course, he was after her like a wolf. He wasn’t dead—fuck, he was getting so sucked in by her that even though she managed to tease him into reacting, he had to admit that the woman intrigued him on too many levels to sort out right now. Her offer in the bar made his body clench, a dangerous cocktail of desire and apprehension.

Then his thoughts turned darker. Even as her memory made his pulse race, Skull knew that deep down his mind was elsewhere. His father was still in the hospital, critically ill. Even sex, for all its allure, had become a distraction. In that charged moment, he realized that soon he’d have to make a painful choice: duty or family. His father’s condition tugged at him relentlessly. No matter how much he loved his dad, his oath to his country meant he couldn’t walk away.

Maintaining a bland expression, he met her mischievous eyes across the room. Dressed in tight white jeans that outlined every curve of her toned lower half, sexy high-heeled sandals matching her baby-pink halter top that left her provocative shoulders bare, she was sugar and spice and everything nice. Her silky, tousled, almost-white shoulder-length hair framed her pixie features and lent an air of fairytale magic to the glitter debacle. Smooth, creamy skin, a lush, pink-hued mouth that conjured way too many ideas, and smoky blue eyes glimmering with hidden laughter.

Christ . The memory of her up close washed over him again. Handling that pint-sized bundle of fortitude was both stirring and irritating. The determined gleam in her blue eyes told him that the delectable woman still had her sights set on him. It also reminded him why he hadn’t just given in and gone somewhere with her to satisfy what gripped both of them—pure lust. But his mind was on his dad, even as his body betrayed him. She made his pulse race, but her distraction wasn’t enough to keep him from duty. He couldn’t forsake his oath to his country, nor his responsibility to protect those he cared about.

“I’m going to kick your ass, Boomer, if you don’t shut up,” Skull growled.

“Touchy,” Boomer scoffed, blowing off a tiny square of glitter.

Breakneck nodded. “Downright grumpy,” he whispered sympathetically to Boomer.

“You, too, junior,” Skull snapped.

Boomer and Breakneck exchanged quick, conspiratorial looks and grinned.

Their leader, Master Chief Christopher “Iceman” Snow, spoke in a low, matter-of-fact tone as he strode by on a “drive-by walk” that recalled a tight end anticipating a tricky play.

“My suggestion would be just to bed her and get it over with.”

When Ice got antsy, nothing good ever came from that, Skull thought, grimacing internally.

Anna checked her watch and frowned. “Where are Hazard and Leigh? They should be here by now. Leigh is never late.” As her cell phone rang, she answered with a smile, then her face drained of color. “Who is this? This is a secure phone.” She looked to Iceman, who stiffened, then stalked to the front of the room. “We work together,” she said, closing her eyes in a brief moment of despair. “Yes, we’ll be right there.”

She disconnected the call and swept her eyes around the room, scanning the rest of Skull’s teammates—Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael, Remington “GQ” Nash, and Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta. “There’s been an incident.”

Twenty minutes later, Skull approached the “crime scene” outside Hazard’s apartment. Several police cruisers with flashing lights were parked at different angles, evidence that they’d arrived in a hurry. His gut clenched and anger surged as he got out of his Porsche Boxster—an expensive purchase bought with his bonuses.

According to the detective Anna had spoken with, Archer “Hazard” Booth and US Attorney Leigh Waterford had been taken about half an hour ago. Skull couldn’t help wondering if this was related to their last mission in Bogotá, where they’d arrested, tried, and convicted the Alzate Cartel’s leader, Angel Alzate. Angel had been sentenced to death for murdering numerous military members, federal agents, and civilians, not to mention two colleagues, Lieutenant Commander Terry “Patch” Patchett and Petty Officer Jack Morefield, during an ambush in Colombia aimed at kidnapping Leigh. Their successful mission had led them into the Darién Gap. With the couple missing like this, he couldn’t help wondering if the cartel had a hand in it.

Skull remembered how Hazard nearly lost his mind in that camp when he’d cornered one of Angel’s henchmen, who was attempting to rape Leigh. He’d pressed the muzzle of his sidearm against the bastard’s forehead, but thankfully, hadn’t pulled the trigger.

Anna was already talking to the detective, exchanging concerned glances with Iceman, whose face was as frozen as ice. This wasn’t the first time a teammate had been taken under Iceman’s watch. Their pretty boy GQ and his now-wife Celeste had endured a harrowing experience during their takedown of the No Safe Haven terrorist group.

Skull slipped past the officers guarding the door and reached Hazard’s apartment. His gut tightened further at the sight of blood on the wall, a clear sign that Hazard hadn’t been subdued without a fight. That was exactly what Skull expected. Squatting, he picked up an empty ring box, his urge to hunt into the night for answers battling with the need to stay and investigate. The memory of the night of their engagement, now twisted into something painful and terrorizing, flashed through him as he squeezed the box, teeth gritted in anger and fear.

“This is an active crime scene,” a woman said as she took the ring box out of his hands and bagged it. “You need to leave.”

Skull nodded and backed out, desperate to see for himself what had transpired. Outside, he approached Anna and Iceman. Though most of the team had been sent home, Skull couldn’t bring himself to return to his apartment while Hazard was missing.

“I told you to go home,” Iceman said.

“Fuck that. What do we have so far?” Skull retorted.

Anna exchanged a heavy sigh with Iceman. “Detective Wheeler said they got several calls from this location, and that neighbors heard screaming. One neighbor across the hall saw them hauling Leigh off. Hazard was unconscious.”

“So, that is his blood in the hall,” Skull murmured, worry gnawing at him.

Iceman’s mouth tightened. We’ll find out who took our people, and there will be hell to pay.”

“I can’t help thinking this has to do with the Alzate Cartel,” Skull said.

“We dismantled it,” Anna insisted with conviction, though her blinking betrayed doubt.

Skull’s gut churned. “Did we, or did we just think we did? Something else is going on here.”

Anna nodded slowly. “I get the same feeling.”

“Why did you call us all in?” Skull asked.

“We have been tasked with finding and apprehending Jose Molina and Astrid Cristo,” Anna said.

Jose’s betrayal had been the hardest to swallow. He had saved the whole damn team on a previous mission, and he couldn’t reconcile Jose’s actions—saving Astrid Cristo from Alzate had been his main priority, and he’d used Hazard and Leigh as bait to accomplish it but also saved them in the process. The two of them had absconded with a substantial amount of cartel cash and were currently in the wind. He wouldn’t relish hunting Jose down. “If it wasn’t for Jose and Astrid, Hazard, and Leigh would be dead.” Skull reminded her.

“I know, but the Justice Department wants their heads and JSOC has been given the reins.”

“So, we’re going back to Bogotá?”

Anna nodded, her eyes still glazed with shock. “But now, in addition to tracking down those two fugitives, we’re going to actively look for Hazard and Leigh.”

“In Colombia?” Skull asked.

“Wherever they are, that’s where we’re going the moment we know for certain,” Iceman said ominously.

And whoever took them would feel the wrath of Iceman’s retribution, cold and hard, make no mistake about that.

Walker “Hummingbird” Adams hovered around the scene where that cute Hazard and the plucky Leigh had been taken. She and Eva “Strekoza” Tarasova had started this journey, assigned to one NCIS agent, Kai Talbot, and one Coast Guard agent, Davis Nishida. Their only mission was to shadow the two agents to keep them safe from the terrible forces that had run rampant not only in San Diego but also in Guayaquil, Ecuador. Their lives would have been forfeit if it hadn’t been for her and Strekoza. The Alzate Cartel had been working overtime to silence anyone from talking to the feds, but justice wasn’t going to rest for anyone, especially for those whose actions, like eliminating a whole task force, were the acts of monsters.

She hadn’t really known the agents until they were in clear, present danger and the two Shadowguard had to step in. But after getting to know them, Walker felt a surge of pride that she’d helped save them. Normally, she preferred to remain detached. In her line of work, that was safer. Yet these two had gotten under her skin.

The same could be said for the strait-laced Navy SEAL and his lawyer love. It had been fascinating watching them battle their attraction, only to eventually give in, and Leigh’s ordeal in the Darién Gap had been quite impressive. So, to say Walker burned with a cold flame at the thought of them at the mercy of unknown forces was an understatement, and she knew her partner felt the same.

She’d changed out of her white jeans, skimpy top, and fuck-me shoes into a T-shirt and a pair of black cargo pants, a ballcap on her head, and boots on her feet. She was also armed with a knife and pistol tucked into the small of her back. People never realized what they saw until a skilled interrogator asked the right questions, and she had already extracted plenty of information. In her shadowy world, knowledge was power.

The men wore masks, but a woman had noticed a distinctive angel tattoo. The van was gray, but a scrape on the bumper had been white, leading her to suspect it had been painted with water-based paint, then washed off. It had supposedly been headed north toward the airport. Strekoza was already on her way there to check it out. But another witness had seen a white van turn south, where Hummingbird knew there was a small airport. After examining tire tracks, she turned her attention to Cooper Sullivan.

If anyone on the team looked like they belonged in her shadowy world, it was Skully. Her intense awareness and reaction to him were unlike anything she’d ever experienced with another man. She got a shot of humor at the mix of his names, and although he’d told her not to call him that, she got the impression that he rather liked its uniqueness. The humor faded, however, when she recalled the telltale signs of distress, the drinking prompted by whatever was haunting him. It was something deep and meaningful, and she shied away from the soft emotions that bubbled up immediately.

Now his teammate was missing, and regardless of how she felt about him, all her bullshit would have to take a backseat—at least some of it.

Emotions, she knew, always got her into trouble. Yet she couldn’t shake the definitive desire to soothe him, and she wondered, besides Hazard and Leigh’s kidnapping, what else was troubling such a tough-as-nails warrior.

She didn’t normally go for the alpha type. She preferred easy men, she could wrap around her finger, who didn’t ask too many questions or care much about her answers, giving her just the short-term contact she craved. But there was something elemental in the way Skull moved her. His rugged appearance and lack of pretense made him real, compelling, and oh-so-appealing. Yeah, “lord of the underworld” suited him perfectly. He wouldn’t be any old dark minion. No, he would command minions to do his bidding. From his thick, black hair, cut in sharp angles around his face, to those disarmingly seductive eyes that reminded her of dark cinnamon and honey, a mesmerizing natural mosaic. Fringed with long, black lashes, his irises hinted at an introspective, grounded nature, stable as the trunks of ancient trees. She swallowed hard, thinking that there was safety there, too, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world, a shared sense of duty and responsibility. This man took his obligations seriously, and that was something they had in common.

Then there were his flat, sensual lips that had inspired many shameless, wicked thoughts, and when he smiled…wowzer, a knockout. His face was intriguing, with blade-sharp angles like his hair, lean and defined, just like his knee-melting body. Broad shoulders in back, a firm, muscular chest in front, he presented both rangy and dangerous, like a boxer with a narrow waist and hips, his thighs in perfect proportion to the rest of him, all sleek, elongated muscles in contrast to his more heavily muscled teammates.

And the way he handled his military working dog, Bones, was another sexy element. It was as if he had a telepathic connection to the animal, an equal relationship where every move he made was executed with perfection. It was like dark poetry in motion.

Damn, but that man made her shiver every time she looked at him, and in her book, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially since he was a Navy SEAL. All that sinewy, roped muscle was a bonus, yet he would be less likely to demand more from her because he was often deployed. Still, she liked to be in control, and as a warrior, she suspected he did, too. It intrigued her to wonder if he could let go, be submissive, and release all that intense alpha male power. In many ways, Skull scared her, making her wonder what lay beneath that dark warlock vibe he exuded. Could he live up to all that tingling interest?

She walked over to Anna, Iceman, and Skull. “How about you provide backup for me?” she asked. “I have a solid lead.”

Skull gave her a sharp, dark-eyed look that spoke volumes, surprise mixed with a hint of irritation at being caught off guard. That was just another sweet annoyance that delighted her. Catching a stealthy warrior off guard was deliciously satisfying.

Born for this type of work, she hadn’t fully recognized her own special talents until she’d shunned her family. In college, when she was recruited by the company, her family assumed she was pursuing a philosophy degree, something they considered easy but impractical. According to her overbearing mother, she was there only to find herself a wealthy, pedigreed husband who would elevate their family into a higher status, a sort of American Debutante Princess destined for an advantageous marriage. Instead, Walker enrolled in theater.

She found her love in high school and college theater, where she could be anyone she wanted to be and discovered that adventure was well worth the risk. Slipping into and out of all types of characters brought her joy. When she had to learn martial arts for a role, she discovered another way to defend herself while pushing her farther from the empty ideals her family upheld.

She’d fought the mold and been punished for it time and again. She always felt different, a secret outsider from the vacuous, predictable, materialistic life her family led. She’d chafed for years, keeping her darker side hidden behind pink, sugar, and spice smiles. She felt smothered by a conditional love that never respected her boundaries. Secretly, she longed to find her own autonomous way, and shockingly, the agency had given her that path. She had a code name, a license to kill, and could transform into anyone she needed to be. How cool was that?

The added benefit was that she was protecting her country, and after “the Farm,” she found purpose and unleashed the dark woman inside her, giddy with the prospect of mayhem and adventure. Once freed from the gilded cage of her family’s expectations, the beats of her heart clicked into place, and suddenly, her future made all kinds of sense. She’d never looked back.

“You have a lead?” Skull asked, and the hope in his eyes did something to her, something she really didn’t want. His lips were stretched in a thin line, and his compelling eyes blazed with simmering anger. Not anger at her, at least not this time. His fury was directed at whoever had taken Hazard and Leigh.

That very fine body was locked and loaded. He was raring to go and needed something to do. Luckily, she had just the thing.

“Let’s go. Time’s wasting.” She started toward his car, stopped, and met Anna’s eyes. “The Alzate Cartel has them.”

Anna gasped, her words coming from a clenched jaw, guilt filling her eyes. Walker wished she could tell her that everything would be all right, but the truth was these people understood only one thing—violence. “How do you know that?”

“One of the witnesses saw an angel tattoo on one of the men’s hands, between the thumb and forefinger. This is about Angel, and I suspect they’re going to try to trade them for our death-row inmate.”

“I need to call my boss. Skull, go with her and see what you can find out.”

He looked to Iceman, who nodded with a chilling gaze.

She certainly wouldn’t want to be on this man’s shitlist. Their Tier 1 leader had a reputation for never missing a damn thing, and she liked that Skull took orders from Iceman. His loyalty and respect for the man who commanded them was unmistakable. “Ice, let’s get back to base and call the guys in. We need to be wheels up to Bogotá as soon as they chase this lead down.”

Skull turned toward her, sighing softly as he followed her to his car. “How do you know what car I drive?”

“I’m observant, and I don’t leave anything to chance.” She lifted a lazy brow in his direction.

“Fucking persistent,” he muttered under his breath.

She eyed the sleek black sports car. “Nice ride, by the way. Very elegant.”

Settling into the driver’s seat, he gave her a once-over as she lowered herself into the buttery leather seats of the low-slung car. “I barely recognized you in that getup.”

“That’s the point, handsome,” she said with a smirk. “Incognito is my middle name.”

“Seatbelt,” he said in a tone that told her compliance was the only choice here, and she was touched that he cared for her safety. He checked the mirrors with his sharp, keen gaze.

“What the fuck is your name?” he growled absently, his tone betraying that he’d been thinking about it.

She glanced at him with wide-eyed amusement. “Oh, that’s right—I never did tell you what it is.”

He snarled something beneath his breath that she couldn’t quite make out, then sped out of the parking spot, driving as competently, lethally, and focused as he looked.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Hmm, I don’t believe in getting something for nothing. How about a trade?”

God, she loved his macho, take-charge manner, and she wondered if that uptight, gruff attitude carried over to everything he did. How freaking intriguing.

“Trade,” he said warily, his myriad eyes shifting back to her, tracing her from head to toe in one efficient caress. A rush of adrenaline shot through her veins, and a heady mix of awareness and delicious anticipation tumbled in her belly.

Giving in to the wicked urge to ruffle his feathers a bit more, she challenged, “I’m sure that curt tone intimidates some people, but I’m not one of them. So, yes, you give me a kiss, and I’ll give you my first name.”

“A kiss?” He blinked, thrown off by her abrupt request, even as heat and desire arced between them, his struggle to keep his reaction in check evident.

She flashed him a sassy grin. “Yeah, like you mean it.”

The frown creasing his brows deepened into a scowl. “You are a piece of work, lady.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her a fast, tight smile and gruffly said, “That wasn’t—fuck it, never mind.”

He stayed silent until they reached the small airport. When they got out of the car, she noticed two men acting shady around a small plane. Her instincts kicked in, and she made a beeline toward them. They were antsy, and when they pulled out their sidearms and fired at her, she had to take cover to the side of the hangar.

Skull swore, then swore again when she pulled her weapon and fired back. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Those guys know something. Don’t just stand there.”

“I’m not bulletproof, little birdy,” he growled, then scanned the area before darting behind some crates. They started shooting at him, so when she came from behind the hangar and tagged both, she was grateful for his distraction. He was fast as hell, and his seething anger looked out of control. He ran toward them, kicking the guns away from their bodies, but only one of them was alive.

Skull crouched down and pressed on the bullet graze on the downed man’s arm. The cartel thug gritted his teeth in pain. “Where are Archer Booth and Leigh Waterford?” Skull demanded, his voice edged with threat.

The thug spat at him, and Skull increased the pressure. He cried out, then, agony threading his words, said raggedly, “You’ll never get to them in time. They’re dead if you don’t cooperate.”

Security was already on its way—cops had probably been called. They needed to get out of there.

“Skull, we’ll get the information we need out of him. We have some fast talking to do,” she said.

Skull ignored her and kept pressuring the man for answers. Frustration surged through her as she rose to handle the two men in guard uniforms who walked toward her, both armed. She held up her fake FBI badge, soothing them into cooperation without a care for protocol.

This guy was coming with her, and they were going to have a private conversation.

“Can it,” Walker said, shouldering Skull away from the man and swiftly zip-tying his hands behind his back. The two airport rent-a-guards exchanged a glance at his wound. “He’ll live, and we need the information he’s withholding. This is a time-sensitive federal case,” she said, patting the side of the kidnapper’s face…Hazard and Leigh’s kidnapper. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him the minor medical attention he needs.”

If he didn’t give her the answers she wanted, he was going to, at the very least, need a hospital or, at the very worst, a deep hole in the ground when she was done with him.