Chapter 1
Present day…
“Beer?” Jagger Brooks dipped his dark brows as he expertly weaved his way through Chicago’s thick traffic. “It’s not like we’re just comin’ over to your place to watch the game, Cutler. You’re getting married in less than a month, remember?”
The other man had damn well better remember he was engaged. Forgetting something like that could put a real damper on the whole bachelor party vibe he had going on. Not to mention the happy couple’s upcoming nuptials.
“It’s bad enough you nixed my offer to get you a stripper,” Jagger continued. “Now I have to risk someone seein’ me buy that nasty shit you like to drink, too?”
Truth be told, he’d buy Liam Cutler a sippy cup full of chocolate milk if that’s what the guy wanted. Man of the hour and all that.
“First off”—Liam’s retort filled the car’s top-of-the-line speakers—“you’re the only one on the team who wanted a stripper.
Second, just because my preferred drink of choice doesn’t come with some fancy assed label and cost an arm and a leg doesn’t mean it tastes like shit.
And third…” The tech genius paused, his voice growing softer as he made his final point.
“I’m well aware of the fact that I’m marrying the love of my life in a few weeks.
And trust me when I say, it can’t come soon enough. ”
That happened a lot, the voice-softening bit. Every time Liam spoke about his soon-to-be-wife, in fact. The smitten man’s voice lowered, and his words came out all gentle and smooth.
It was the same with the other guys on Jagger’s private security team. Aside from Jagger, every member of Delta was now either married or engaged. And all five of the deliriously happy bastards sounded the same whenever they talked about their significant others.
Every. Damn. Time.
Wonder if I’ll suffer the same fate.
He didn’t wonder long.
Jagger had never considered himself to be the settling down type. A free spirit, his grandmother had always called him. He smiled, warmth spreading across his chest as he signaled for a left-hand turn.
“And then there was one,” he quipped, referring to himself as the last remaining bachelor on the team.
It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.
Not that he saw his perpetually single status as a problem. On the contrary, Jagger loved being unattached.
He was free to go wherever he wanted. Spent his money on whatever tickled his fancy. And most importantly, he had sole control of the T.V. remote.
Speaking of tickling…
Being single came with all kinds of other…let’s call them…perks. No strings. Nothing serious or messy. Just a whole lot of consensual, adult, and mostly legal fun.
Tickling optional.
“You know…” Liam’s voice filled the car’s interior once again. “It’s been said that one is loneliest number.”
Jagger chuckled. “Trust me, brother. I’m anything but lonely.”
Was he happy that his teammates had found their forever loves and were living life in married—or in Liam’s case, almost married—bliss? Hell yes, he was happy. Ecstatic, even. But what really mattered, however, was that his friends were happier than he’d ever seen them.
The cause?
Their names were Megan, Aurora, Raegan, and Kerrigan. And in two short weeks, Allison Soon-To-Be-Cutler would officially become the newest member of the Delta Team Wives Association.
Fun fact, the wives association wasn’t actually a thing. But ooh, maybe it should be.
The DTWA.
Jagger grinned at the thought. It did have a rather nice ring to it. He may even suggest the awesome idea at the next team meeting.
In the meantime…
His feet worked the pedals and gearshift like a pro, cutting across traffic with ease. A few horns may or may not have blared, and…did that elderly woman he’d just sped past just flash him the bird?
Yes. Yes, she had.
His laughter barked as he made his way down the off-ramp’s curving slope. Jagger was still smiling wide when he stopped at the light that turned red just as he’d reached the bottom.
“What’s so funny?” Liam’s tone held a touch of defense.
“Just makin’ friends again.” He waited for the light to turn green. “Hey, listen. I’m almost to my stop, so I’ll grab your beer and be on my way.”
“See you in a few.”
Minutes later, a tiny bell rang overhead as Jagger stepped into the small convenience store. A pregnant woman had just finished paying for a large bottle of water and small bag of chips, so he held the door open and waited.
“Thank you.” She flashed him a quick smile on her way outside.
“You’re welcome.” He dipped his head with a grin before turning to the young blonde working behind the counter. Jagger guessed her to barely be of age to sell cigarettes and beer. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” She sounded as disinterested in her job as she looked.
In the interest of saving time, he rattled off the brand name of Liam’s favorite beer. With her lips pressed shut, the girl pointed to the far-right corner of the store.
Bowl full of joy, that one.
On his way to the wall of floor-to-ceiling coolers, Jagger contemplated grabbing a bag of jerky to tide him over until dinner. Deciding against it, he continued toward the selection of beer. He spotted what he was looking for as the chime of the bell rang through the air once again.
Jagger reflexively turned as another man stepped through the door.
White. Average height. Thin build.
The twenty-something was dressed in faded black, baggy jeans, a black hoodie with an ugly as hell graphic on its front, and a pair of sneakers that were long past the point of redemption.
But it was the wide, desperate eyes and the almost rhythmic twitching that had the hairs on the back of Jagger’s neck standing on end. His gut tightened as the dumbass reached for something hidden beneath the back of his shirt.
He didn’t need this shit now. Not when he was already late for the party he’d been in charge of planning. And yet—
“Give me all your money!” The idiot in question pointed a trembling knife at the terrified girl. A hunting blade that was big enough to do some serious damage.
Well, hell.
“O-okay!” The poor teen was already in tears as she frantically fumbled in her attempts to open the register.
“Hurry the hell up!”
“I-I’m t-trying!” She smacked the buttons on the register again. “Not exactly easy to concentrate with a giant knife pointed at my chest.”
“Just shut your mouth and open the fucking register!”
Jagger let his mouth lift into a grin.
The little tête-à-tête between the idiot and his hostage came at the perfect time. It also offered the distraction Jagger needed. With the girl’s attention on the register—and not being killed—and the asshole’s focus on her, he made his way closer to the front of the store without being seen.
The Sig Sauer M18 pistol in his hand didn’t tremble or shake. Not like Hoodie Guy’s knife, which was still quivering beneath the store’s bright, fluorescent lights.
Jagger’s gun didn’t quiver. It never tremored or shook. After years of training, serving his country, and now working for R.I.S.C., the pistol gripped in his steady fist felt like a natural extension of his hand.
“Y-you can put that thing away, you know?” The girl attempted to open the drawer for the umpteenth time. “I-I’ll still give you the c-cash, I promise.”
“Do I look that stupid to you?” the man shouted.
Stupid. Strung-out. Willing to commit felony robbery to cover the cost of the next hit.
Yep. Sounds about right to me.
“Let’s go!” Another impatient shout.
Hoodie Guy swung his wild gaze toward the store’s door and back to the tearful young lady in front of him. The blade slid higher in the air, its tip pointing directly toward her throat.
“You got two seconds to open it, and then I’m coming over this counter.”
“P-please.” She held her composure impressively well. “I swear, I-I’m trying.”
“Try harder!” And then, “You know what? Fuck it.”
“What?” The girl’s blue eyes grew as big as saucers “Wait, no! I-I can get it. I can—”
She screamed as the guy leaped over the counter. The high-pitched shriek sending him instantly on the defensive.
“Shut up!” The asshole grabbed the girl forcefully by the hair.
Her entire body locked down in an instant when the blade of the knife was pressed against the front of her throat. The distressed man was so busy trying to control the panicked girl he didn’t see Jagger approaching the counter from the other direction.
“Scream like that again, and I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear.”
The gun in Jagger’s hand—a hand that was still not trembling, by the way—was pointed square at his target’s head. “See, now I’m thinkin’ that’s not such a good idea.”
Hearing his voice, Hoodie Guy spun around, bringing the girl’s flailing body along with him. Crazed eyes looked back at Jagger with utter shock. An uncontrollable tweak of the guy’s muscles caused the tip of the knife to pierce the girl’s skin.
She winced as a trickle of bright red blood slowly fell down over her paling skin. But it was the tiny whimper escaping her straining throat that pissed Jagger right the hell off.
“Yeah, hi.” He flashed the idiot a quick grin. “This would be the part where you put down the knife and let the young lady go.”
Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.
“This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you,” the other man countered. This was followed by a demanding, “Just get the hell out of here, and leave us alone!”
Jagger was, in fact, not going to leave the strung-out crackhead alone to finish carrying out his crimes. And he sure as shit wasn’t leaving the poor girl to fend for herself.
Not a chance in hell.
“Come on, man,” he tried again, inching his way closer.
The leather soles of his Italian sued Oxfords pressing silently against the floor’s aged and yellowing vinyl tiles.
“I don’t want to kill anyone today.” Some days, he was more than ready, but this wasn’t one of those days.
“I’m fairly certain you didn’t plan on dying.
So why don’t you just let the young lady go, and—”