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Skull could easily say that he’d never in his adult life been in this position. But after GQ exploded with scathing comments about both him and Boomer, his guilt intensified with every sensation he experienced with her. Added to the fact that this wasn’t what he wanted with Hummingbird—and he suspected that the little minx already knew that—he was riding a rollercoaster of emotions.

With her mouth wrapped around his dick like wet satin gripping him, he barely had enough brainpower left to think straight. At least with the right head. He gasped for air when she took him all the way down to the base of his shaft, making him delirious with need. A deep, tortured groan rumbled in his chest as he fought to suppress it. Nearly out of his mind with the desperate need to feel connected to Hummingbird in even the smallest, most intimate way, he slid his fingers through her short, silky hair until his hand cradled the back of her head. Beneath his palm, he felt the relentless rhythm of her mouth working up and down his cock. Again. And again. And again.

She was as relentless as a hunter, a temptation so uncontrollable it was inevitable. But he wasn’t about to let her jack him off and set the tone for whatever this was between them. He swallowed thickly and fought to gather what remained of his shredded control.

The woman did things with her mouth that he’d never experienced before. Especially the breath-stealing, mind-bending way she slipped and swirled her tongue around his shaft, all the way down, then back up in a long suctioning pull that shook his sanity and his restraint. His fingers knotted in her hair, and each time he came close to erupting, he thought of water torture at BUD/S—the unrelenting cold, the threat of hypothermia taking him out, the excruciating drive of the waves against his violently shaking, exhausted body, the need he had to keep himself in the chain of linked arms, utterly refusing to break it and fail the brothers on either side of him, the pain of sore, overused muscles, on the brink of human limits.

Fail his brother and the woman he loved. Hazard needed to have all of him at this time, and this was nothing but selfish indulgence.

That’s what saved him—the very basics that had built what was already his formidable strength. In that grueling, churning, threshing machine that was designed to separate the chaff from the wheat, he’d learned all about expanding his comfort zone to increase both his physical and mental toughness—the keys he needed to survive outside the wire. But in this case, it was proving to be vital in laying down his boundaries with a woman who seemed to have none. He suspected she projected that image, but there was a genuine, deep core inside this pretty quick-change artist, and allowing her to dictate how and when this intimacy would play out between them was a map for disaster. This map wouldn’t lead to that golden core, and with any mission, he wasn’t going to set himself up for failure.

That and the agony of his guilt chewing up his insides were the impetus that granted him the strength to reach down, slip his hands under her armpits, the scent of her arousal, and the unbelievable sensations of this amazing blow job driving him wild to keep her mouth on him and bring him all the way.

But she was lost to him, settling in a slow and steady rhythm, making the pleasure so intense for more excruciating seconds, and he lost his shit again, crying out at the exquisite pleasure. When she tightened her grip, adding a slick friction that had his hips instinctively thrusting in tandem with her strokes, his breathing turned harsh and labored, his body rigid with tension. He gritted his teeth and pulled. She protested with a curse and an angry growl. His dick popped out of her mouth, and he brought her flushed, startled face up to his, lifting her completely off her feet. Her lips parted on a shocked gasp of breath as he drew her to eye-level and gave her the fiercest I-mean-fucking-business glare. Her eyes were dark and filled with a desire that had gotten away from her, and…fear for a split second, her skin flushed pink with hunger.

Her chin lifted a fraction, solidifying that stubborn personality of hers. “What?” she managed through an agonized groan. “Why did you do that?”

He clamped his jaw tightly. “Two very distinct reasons. Hazard and Leigh need us, Hummingbird, and this isn’t the time for this. And, I thought I made it clear to you that I’m not this guy. We have commitments, and I’m expected—” His dive watch chimed, telling him he had fifteen minutes to get downstairs. “I have a debrief, and I don’t want our first time to be some one-sided quickie in the shower or have to explain to my hard-ass leader that I was getting head in the shower instead of showing up on time to save our brother and his fiancée.” He narrowed his gaze as she lifted a brow in a challenging manner, her defiant look giving him more glimpses of fear intermingled with her pushback. “That fucking pisses me off.”

She let out a hard sigh. “Fine. I’m sorry. I goaded you. You’re a gorgeous bastard, Cooper. So, I’m blaming you a little.”

“What. The. Actual. Fuck?” he snapped, still trying to recover.

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “It figures. Add modesty to your long list of appealing attributes. You don’t have a clue. When I look at you, I want to shut the world out and have you all to myself. You’re magnificent, and I’m just a woman faced with one hard, hot, fully aroused male. What did you expect me to do?”

For the first time in a situation with a woman he was attracted to, he was not only speechless but floored. Magnificent? Seriously? That was never how he’d thought of himself. He worked for his sweat, not to seduce, even though it was a perk he wasn’t about to pass up.

He snorted derisively and shot her a look of disbelief. “Are you playing me with that mere woman comment? I’m-just-an-innocent-waif act?”

She stared at him, a slight, tenacious set to her chin. “I wish I could be that…detached, but you make it impossible with the way you’re built internally and externally.” Her eyes went sly, filled with a teasing glint. Her mouth lifted at the corner, and she ran her hands over his flexed biceps and forearms, her voice now breathless. “If you want, I’ll tell Iceman. I’ll even get a permission slip for you.” In a breathy, Marilyn Monroe tone, she teased, “Icy sweetheart, can I get your authorization to appropriate Skull for fuckery in between firefights, missions, and debriefs? Pretty please with sugar on top.”

“Goddammit, woman. Don’t you dare try to deflect this conversation with humor.” It took all his will not to smile. Just imagining that whole scenario nearly made him laugh, but he shoved the thought away. Too much was at stake right now. He had to be laser-focused, and she did, too.

“I was just trying to give us both a respite from everything. I caught Anna crying her eyes out downstairs, and I maybe needed a big distraction myself. So, sue me. I’m human. What a shocker.”

Realizing he’d won that round, and that she wasn’t going to argue any further, she yielded with a slight nod. “You really are a tough customer, and fuck me, I do love the way you won’t give me an inch. It’s sexy as hell.”

He set her down gently. “We’ve got to go. Hand me that towel for real this time. No more shenanigans.”

“But you incite such decadent shenanigans.” She pouted.

“Woman…” he began.

She sighed and snatched the towel off the rack, handing it over. “Now get out, you troublemaker, and let me do my job.”

“There better be some kind of raincheck, handsome,” she added with a mischievous glance down his body, biting her lip as she noted his semi-hard state.

“You bet your shapely ass there will be, but we’re not getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Okay, taskmaster. I’ll be outside waiting for the shower. And by the way, mine’s broken. We have to share.”

He groaned softly. “Great.” He shooed her with the towel, and she scampered out, shutting the door with a hard click.

Skull dried off quickly, vigorously running the towel through his hair before giving it a quick comb. Then he wrapped it around his waist and passed her by—though she made no move to head into the shower immediately. Instead, she folded her arms over her beautiful chest. “Why are you such a Boy Scout?” she asked.

In his youth, as a sailor, the rough side of sex had been intriguing until it wasn’t, until it made him feel hollow and unfulfilled. That didn’t fit his rock-like attitude, and he couldn’t help thinking his dad would be so disappointed in him if he had climaxed in that shower, and he would have compromised himself in ways he wouldn’t have wanted to face. That guilt and the guilt of having such a grand time while his brother was suffering weighed heavily on him. “I don’t have time to discuss that, but I promise you, we will talk about it.” He grabbed clothes, rapidly stripped off the towel and dressed in a quickness that he’d learned in the Navy. Walking over to the kennel, he called Bones to him. The sleepy canine shook his whole body and joined Skull, sitting at his side.

“Man I was so exhausted, I didn’t even register the crate.” She gestured toward the kennel in the corner.

He laughed softly. “To be fair, it was obscured by the bed.”

“He really is a beautiful guy,” she remarked.

Skull nodded. “Yeah, but deadly.” A sizzling buzz ran just beneath his skin, a feeling generated by Hummingbird, one he couldn’t shake and made him wonder if it ever would.

Across the room, she murmured, “Just like his handler.” And he turned to catch her eye. For one electric moment, their gazes locked. In that instant, he felt as though she was moving toward him in slow motion, and all he had to do was reach out and claim her. Desperate to possess her, his gaze slid to her mouth, the softness, and heat of it burned into his mind.

She met his gaze, eyes suddenly dark and intent. Then she exhaled sharply, and a shudder coursed through her. Her response unleashed a storm in Skull that robbed him of every rational thought. He lunged at her, driven by the need to claim the moist, hungry contact of her mouth.

Even as guilt clawed at him, he knew that this vulnerable Hummingbird, her naked attraction, was humbling her. He grabbed a handful of her tousled hair and dragged her head back, desperate to feel every inch of her mouth. A galvanizing charge sizzled between them as their eyes locked. Silently, he lowered his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her mouth. She melted into him, and his desperation softened into a tenderness that surprised him.

But she broke the kiss, knowing he didn’t want to be late. The small concession settled hard in his mind and heart. He hauled in a ragged breath and murmured against her lips, “See you later.” Then he left the room with Bones at his heels. She was irresistible, bold, and went after what she wanted. He couldn’t fault her for that. He understood aggression, and he had made it clear who he was and who he wasn’t. He’d warned her that this wasn’t the time. But at this point in their tangled interactions, he almost couldn’t give a flying fuck.

That definitely was his dick talking…very, very loudly.

In the elevator, he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe he’d let things go so far when he knew better. His body had a mind of its own, draining him of every ounce of energy and months’ worth of pent-up sexual tension. Stopping that powerful orgasm almost killed him. Worse yet, he wasn’t even close to handling that raw, scorching need burning under his skin, a heat that challenged his heart and sent velvet strokes down his dick.

The orgasm might have been powerful, but it was fleeting, momentary pleasure. What he intended for himself would last much longer than that physical response, and he just wouldn’t settle for anything less. And Leigh and Hazard were the priority at this moment, and there was no skimping on pulling out all the stops to find them.

That little glitter queen was dangerous because she was smart, cunning, relentless in the pursuit of what she wanted, and was used to reacting in a split second, nimble on her feet. And she had knowledge about him, his triggers and desires, and he had no doubt she would use every bit of that intel to her advantage, and to his utmost, fucking pleasure.

Later that day, Walker made it her business to know everything about Bogotá. The city was both a cultural oasis—loud, salsa-driven, neon-lit, with alcohol and mouthwatering aromas—and a place of explosive violence and brutal torture. She’d worked extensively here. She knew the streets, or calles , the players, and that humans were nosy. Digging into the secrets of the Siachoque Cartel was a matter of asking the right questions or applying the right pressure. And she knew all about pressure points.

Cooper Sullivan.

She’d tried her best to work her own pressure points on him, but unlike that tussle in a Milan alley where she knew exactly where to hit him to incapacitate him, this emotional rollercoaster was stretching her limits. She wasn’t sure how much of herself she was willing to give away.

What hurt more was that after her discussion with Anna, she realized how all this could have been prevented if she’d followed up on that photo. Beating a dead horse wouldn’t help, but tell that to the voice inside her that screamed with guilt, not only for not following the lead on Nacho’s daughter but also for coercing Skull in the shower when he was too broken up over Hazard and Leigh and something else so personal it put those sad lights in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. Walker found it hard to face those emotions head on. She often downplayed them to do her job effectively. This situation was no different.

That’s a lie. That little voice in her said.

Shut up. Walker shot back. She didn’t have the energy it would take to deal with herself right now.

For the remainder of the day, Walker alternated between a slow burn and a teeth-clenching irritation. Her mood bounced through everything from anger to feeling hard done by, but eventually a niggling little feeling wormed its way into her indignation. She had a tough time acknowledging it, but she finally had to admit that she was beginning to feel like an idiot for acting the way she had.

Once she went that far, she also had to admit that her female ego had suffered a bruising thanks to Skull’s formidable control. He had been into her blow job. That had been evident. He wanted what she had to offer. That was also evident. And somewhere between him lifting her right off the floor with all that masculine power and strength, and that soft, heartfelt kiss—her heart fluttered at the memory that she pushed away—she discovered he wasn’t what she’d expected and for the first time, this deadly operative was outgunned and promptly put right in her place. He wasn’t a mark. He wasn’t a man to manipulate. She’d tried to use her pinky to get him wrapped, and he’d used his middle finger to that attempt…very effectively. He just might be a bit above her paygrade. She shivered at the thought. A genuine challenge. A genuine man.

The more she thought about him, the more she wanted him. And the more that troubled her, the more she needed to get out onto the street, and into the underbelly where she could use every skill that made her who she was: assassin, wet worker, shot caller, shapeshifter, master of disguises… Shadowguard. Those were the labels she understood.

“What are you stewing about?” That was Eva—right to the point. She had grown up tough, and was stoic, unflappable, and wise. That had surprised her about the slim, supple, and deadly woman who looked like she belonged on the runway dressed in designer clothes. She could easily play the patsy, but she left all the subterfuge to Walker. She preferred to work even more in the shadow where she watched her partner’s back. Knowing that her partner was always there in case of emergencies or if Walker got into a tough spot, made her even more reckless, secure in the knowledge that Strekoza would swoop in and provide whatever assistance Walker needed.

“It will pass,” Walker said.

“I doubt it. You’ve snagged yourself on Severus. That wasn’t a very good idea, little Hummingbird. He’s…not what he seems.”

“Is that so?”

Strekoza chuckled over the comm. “There’s the obvious: hot, gorgeous, sexy—the full package.”

The man definitely had the full package, Walker thought as she recalled the hard, thick length of him in her hands and mouth. Heat shivered through her.

“But that attractive facade is wrapped around one alpha male. I’m not sure even you can handle him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eva exhaled sharply. “You don’t do relationships. Fuck, neither of us fit into a flowers-and-hearts scenario. Picket fences are there to be jumped over or burned down. He’s got a picket fence written all over him. He might look dark and deadly, but his character sets him apart. SEALs are gung-ho patriots, all in, all the time for team and country. We’re independent, down-and-dirty, rolling-in-the-muck operatives. Underbelly surfers. That don’t mesh, sweetie. He’s big, bad trouble. You should cut your losses and move on before you get tangled up in his steel net. Fuck him and cut him loose.”

“Easier said than done,” Walker groused under her breath.

The silence crackled over the comm, and Walker could feel her partner’s disapproval as if she were standing right next to her. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Walker said. She wasn’t sure about her own feelings here because feelings really never entered into her heart’s lexicon. Walker wasn’t emotionally ready to discuss her…dammit…intimate situation with Skull with anyone, maybe not ever. What happened between them was supposed to be predictable. She sucked him off, and later they fucked, setting up the kind of scenario that would end when this mission did. But, no, he had to be a freaking Boy Scout instead of giving into his baser male instincts. He had to look at her with those dark eyes as if he had the power to clasp her beating heart in his protective hands, and he had to go and kiss her like that. That gentleness had knocked her on her ass and changed every damn thing.

She wasn’t sure how it all fit together, and that was a bomb waiting to go off. Damn him.

“Sure, it didn’t,” she finally said. After a long pause, she asked, “You’re not getting all worked up and feeling guilty about Hazard and Leigh, are you?”

“What if I am?”

“It’s counterproductive. Swallow your anger, your guilt, your concern. We need cool, level heads right now. I don’t intend to lose you, partner.”

“What about our hearts, Eva? How can we freeze them and still function?”

“We can, and we will. Soft emotions and leading with your heart will only hurt you. Stick with what we know.” Her tone softened just a bit. “I didn’t say I wasn’t affected, but right now, put on your assassin face and do what you do best. Soglasovannyy ?”

“Agreed,” Walker said, hardening her heart and shutting out anything that might compromise her cold focus. Her mission was to discover which gang was secretly backing Lucia “Pincho” Siachoque Alzate, identify their boss, neutralize this partner in crime, and get the information needed to find Leigh and Hazard.

Kidnapping and brutality toward a US attorney and a Navy SEAL couldn’t be tolerated. Blackmail and threats were out of the question. They were under a punishing deadline, seven days, now ticking down to six. If they didn’t find a lead, they’d find their bodies on the outskirts of this city.

Her heart squeezed tight as she forced herself to remain neutral. A killer couldn’t let soft emotions like worry or care interfere. She was a weapon of the US government, a covert, black-as-night force. She wouldn’t falter. She wouldn’t give quarter. And she would be as ruthless as the criminals she hunted.

Dressed as a woman of the night to blend in, Walker slipped out of the alley. She knew the streets of Bogotá well. Many men from the darker side frequented the massage parlors and streets in this part of town. It was a good hunting ground so far, though no solid leads had emerged. The men they’d snagged were tough and tight-lipped.

Out of the gangs here: Arana Rojo , Red Spiders, ?etas , a term for prison gang, La Mano Negra , The Black Hand, and Las Espadas Fantasma , The Phantom Blades, Walker favored the last group. They were loyal to their overlords, were a large force, and had a reputation for ruthless brutality. They also had their hands all over the illicit going-ons in Bogotá. She was going with her gut, and she hoped she wasn’t wrong. They were easy to spot. Each of them had a cursed and mystical dagger, shrouded in shadows, feared for its power to vanquish evil spirits, an ornate black, and white devil with horns on the hilt, and runes on the blade tattooed just below their left ears, and a larger version on the inside of their left forearms.

Walker strutted down the street in two-inch black patent-leather platform heels. Her fishnet stockings disappeared beneath a supple leather micro-mini skirt that showed the bottom curves of her ass. Her red lace tank top, nearly see-through, clung to her bare breasts. She topped it off with a black wig, the blunt-cut hair swinging around her waist.

“You’re garnering plenty of attention wiggling your tight ass down the street,” came a voice over her comm from Strekoza.

“Any Blades?”

“Plenty. Watch yourself.”

“Why would I need to do that?” Walker said with a lilt to her voice. “I have you.”

She smiled at Strekoza’s chuckle and response. “You know it, sister.”

Suddenly, she sensed someone following her for about ten steps. A strong arm snaked around her shoulders. Appearing startled, she said in Spanish with a come-hither smile, “Hey, don’t sneak up on a girl. You lookin’ for some action?”

She turned to face him, a handsome young man in his twenties with fresh ink that screamed gang initiation. Had he just bagged himself a hooker? She decided to play along.

“Get him to the next alley. There’s a side door into the back of one of the massage parlors. I’ll be waiting.”

Before long, he grabbed the back of her neck and sneered, “Yeah, bitch, and you’ll give it up for free.”

“What?” she protested, sending her hands over her body. “This doesn’t come cheap,” she warned, injecting a thread of anxiety into her voice. Yep, gang initiation.

He yanked her hair and flashed a knife close to her cheek, the metal gleaming in the lamplight. “How about I cut your pretty face so you can’t turn any tricks?”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Free,” she stammered, her voice trembling for effect. “My space is just down there.”

She led him exactly where they wanted him to go. It was like taking candy from a baby. Once inside, she grabbed his hand, pressed hard on his wrist, and he dropped the knife just as Strekoza put a gun to the back of his head.

They dragged him into an empty room, where the sounds of carnal lust echoed in the distance. Strekoza moved behind him while Walker secured him to a chair with zip ties. She pressed her blade against his face and said coldly, “Why don’t you tell me who you’re working for?”

“Fuck you, bitch,” he spat.

Her wrist moved swiftly as she slashed his face deep enough that blood streamed down his neck, soaking his black T-shirt. “Wrong answer. Let’s try again. Who?”

The kid was new, and most of his bravado was just posturing. A seasoned gang member would have taken much longer to break. His cocky attitude drained away as he cried out, clamping his lips closed, sounding just like everyone else here.

She slid the knife between the waistband of his jeans and his belt. Slicing through the leather, she ran the blade along the zipper. He trembled as his bravado vanished. “Who?” she repeated.

“I can’t. They’ll kill me.”

“If you don’t want to end up a eunuch, then talk.” She glanced up at Strekoza. “We won’t tell anyone it came from you.”

He swallowed hard, his breath ragged. “All right. I just joined, so I only have a little info.”

“What cartel?”

“A FARC-based one, I think. It’s run by a woman.”

“Her name?”

He hesitated, then when Walker pushed the knife a bit further into his jeans, pricking him near his manhood, the kid yelped, “Pincho.”

“Jackpot.” Strekoza nodded.

“That’s all I know. Please let me go. I won’t say anything,” he pleaded, young, so young, and she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel sorry for the kid, but he had threatened to cut her face if she didn’t give up sex to him. That cemented his character, and it was clear he chose this life, and it was a brutal choice. Two Americans were being held hostage, and Walker knew that in most scenarios, Leigh and Hazard wouldn’t survive whether or not Pincho got her husband back. She felt it in her gut—this was a no-win situation, and the kid would soon be singing like a canary to his buddies. It wouldn’t do him any good, but Walker and her partner preferred to work from the shadows and make sure this Blade never saw them coming.

Strekoza moved like lightning. The kid didn’t even have time to take another breath before he was done. They called for cleanup and headed back to the compound. Las Espadas Fantasma , the Phantom Blades, were the armed wing of Pincho’s empire. Their leader was Blade. Now it was time to debrief Anna and send her Shadowguard in the right direction.

Pincho had managed to fly below the radar. No one had an inkling that she was Nacho’s daughter, that she’d inherited his entire organization. She had ordered hundreds of deaths, trafficked in human smuggling, extorted, ran rackets, counterfeited goods, and laundered money. Then there were the drugs. Colombia was the largest producer of cocaine in the world, trafficking it to North America, Europe, and Asia, and within the region, Brazil was one of the largest consumers. But fentanyl was a global epidemic, and her traffickers were armed with a deadly weapon, the drug itself. In the course of her illegal activities, she amassed an unimaginable fortune. She had the means to follow through and was a formidable opponent.

Her cartel had many soldiers, state-of-the-art weapons, and billions in its war chest. Yeah, Pincho was a ghost, just an accented female voice on the phone. That picture in Astrid Cristo’s home office still haunted Walker. There were many players in that photo, notably Nacho, Astrid, and someone they’d trusted, Jose Molina. That one hurt, and Walker mourned the loss of him. He had been a great resource for jobs like this. But he and Astrid were in the wind, fugitives. Stealing millions from a very dangerous organization was a death sentence. And that young girl was going to lead them to the elusive woman.

Walker intended to add another label to her repertoire…ghostbuster.