Page 38 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)

A t this point, I was between a rock and a hard place.

Xzavier had bailed my ass out of jail, which I was eternally grateful for.

But I didn’t like owing anybody anything.

A lot of thoughts swirled through my mind.

I wasn’t ready to commit to anything, but I was willing to listen to his pitch.

At the time, it didn’t feel like the wrong thing to do. What could it hurt?

We drove to an abandoned building in the warehouse district. It was the same place that I had been taken to the other night. The driver had hauled ass, making twists and turns, doubling back around to make sure we weren’t followed.

Florida sunlight cascaded through the broken windows. This time, none of the team members wore masks. They all revealed their faces. It showed a high degree of trust, but it was also dangerous. I knew their identities. That made me a liability. Again .

“I haven’t committed to anything yet,” I said.

“Certainly. Take your time. Get to know everyone, but I don’t play games. I’ll need an answer by the end of the day.”

“Fair enough. And thank you for everything you’ve done so far.”

“My pleasure. I couldn’t let you sit in jail on bullshit charges.”

“I have questions.”

“Of course you do. I’d worry about you if you didn’t.” Xzavier smiled and gestured to the man beside him. “You’ve met Cooper.”

Cooper smiled and extended his hand. His lip was split and his face bruised from where I had kicked him the other night.

“Our meeting at the range wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

“You catch on quick.”

“Sorry about your face,” I said sheepishly.

“It will heal.”

I glanced around the group. It was an odd mix of people .

“Everyone here brings something to the table,” Xzavier said. “Coop specializes in procurement—weapons, vehicles, you name it. He’s also a damn good pilot.”

Coop flashed that toothpaste commercial smile. “I can fly anything.”

“Yeah, but can he land?” a gentleman with shoulder-length gray hair said in a southern drawl. He was a muscular guy in his late 40s with a salt-and-pepper mustache and goatee. He wore cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. He clasped an ice cold longneck, sipping it from time to time.

“That’s TJ,” Xzavier said. “Helluva sniper.”

TJ stepped forward and shook my hand. “Pleasure to meet you. TJ Winchester at your service.”

I didn’t know if that was his real name or a callsign. It didn’t really matter.

“This is Piper,” Xzavier said, introducing a cute girl who looked 16.

She had shoulder length raven hair with a hot pink streak.

Heavy liner accentuated her glacial eyes.

She wore a choker around her neck, a cut-up T-shirt from a 90s indie rock band, skinny jeans, and black Converse All-Stars.

She had more wristbands than I could count.

“She’s the best hacker in the business,” Xzavier continued. “There isn’t a system she can’t get into. Not a password she can’t crack. IDs, documents, intel. She’s got it covered.”

“Is she out of high school?”

“I’m 19, bitch! Are we going to have a problem?”

Xzavier laughed. “You’ll have to excuse Piper. She can be a little… abrasive with new people. ”

She sneered at him in typical teenage fashion.

“And this is Finn,” Xzavier said, introducing me to a handsome man with wavy dark hair, a trim mustache and goatee, and dark, mysterious eyes. None of these guys looked like they missed a day in the gym. Finn had the swarthy look of a sailor that could circumnavigate the globe blindfolded.

I’m not going to lie—he was easy on the eyes, too. So was Cooper. All things considered, the arrangement could have been worse.

“Finn is a hell of a soldier. He’s got plenty of experience with urban combat, demolitions, anti-terrorism,” Xzavier patted him on the shoulder with a proud smile. “This is a guy you want on your side.”

“Why me?” I asked. “What do I bring to the group?”