Chapter 2
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Natalia—Talia to many of her colleagues—stood at the front of the conference room as six men stared back at her through sets of similarly bloodshot eyes.
This was Delta Team. An elite group of former military badasses working under the country’s most renowned private security umbrella known as R.I.S.C.
And every single one of them looked like hell.
R.I.S.C.—which stood for rescue, intel, security, and capture—pretty much summed up the purpose of the private security corporation. The highly successful and well-known corporation caught the attention of Homeland Security not long after its creation.
Since then, the company’s four teams—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta—have taken on the occasional op when the government can’t, or won’t, become “officially” involved. For Natalia, this meant she and her clandestine team worked closely with the members of R.I.S.C.
My team.
Her chest grew tight. Nearly three years had passed since she’d first joined Homeland. Three years since Jason Ryker had taken pity on her by offering her a job when no one else in the U.S. government would.
Part of that job included being the R.I.S.C. teams’ handler. The point of contact for Homeland both in and out of the field. And for the past three years, Natalia had been heading up Ryker’s original—and highly coveted—team.
Based out of Texas, the clandestine group of Homeland agents worked with R.I.S.C. to protect the innocent. With the security company’s expansion, however, Ryker felt the need to make a shift, as well.
Most recently, Natalia had finally made the cross-country move to bring her physically closer to Delta and soon-to-be Echo. And though it had been several weeks, she was still settling into her new office and townhome in D.C.
And the sooner you get this meeting started, the sooner you can enjoy the deep, jacuzzi tub waiting for you back at the hotel, here in Chicago.
“Gentlemen.” Natalia greeted the rough and ragged group with a single nod. “I’d say ‘good morning’, but since y’all look like death warmed over…”
More like hung over.
A deep, southern drawl sounded almost immediately from the far end of the long, oval table.
“Not our fault you called a last minute, early-as-hell pow-wow the morning after our boy’s bachelor party.”
Natalia pulled in a deep breath through her nose as her back teeth ground tightly together. She couldn’t see the man’s face, but there was no need. She knew that voice well.
Jagger Brooks.
Thirty-nine years old. Six-feet tall. And far more attractive than Natalia would ever, ever admit.
A former Air Force Combat Controller, or CCT, Jagger was once a member of the military’s deadliest and most highly skilled group of operatives. This meant that, among other things, he was an expert in weapons, explosives, scuba diving, and even snow mobiles.
If that wasn’t enough, Jagger was also a licensed pilot and FAA certified air traffic controller.
In a nutshell, Jagger Brooks was for all intents and purposes, a Jack of all trades. And despite his juvenile attitude and unusually high attention to fashion, he was one of the most impressive and successful operatives—private or otherwise—to have ever crossed Natalia’s path.
The problem, you might ask?
He was also the sexiest, most intriguing man she’d ever met.
“Sorry you didn’t get an invite,” Jagger spoke up again. “It was a no-girls-allowed kind of thing.” He leaned forward. “I’m sure you understand.”
It was the smirk and the wink that left her fingers twitching with the urge to reach for her gun. But rather than shooting the sexy smartass—and boy, was she tempted to do just that—Natalia kept her expression schooled.
“Your team’s contract with Homeland requires you to be ready to roll with twenty-four-hours’ notice,” she reminded him calmly.
“Well, see now, that right there’s your problem.
” His hazel eyes flickered with a sense of clarity.
“You only gave us a fraction of that. So what do ya say, we all go back home, use our remaining twelve hours to get some much-needed rest, and then we can meet back here refreshed and ready to…how did you put it? Oh, yeah.” A quick snap of his fingers. “Roll.”
Don’t shoot him. Don’t shoot him. Don’t—
“Sorry, Mr. Brooks, but naptime is going to have to wait.” Natalia managed to keep her cool.
The former Air Force Combat Controller lifted his eyebrows high. “Mr. Brooks? My, my, aren’t we in a formal mood this morning.”
Okay, maybe go ahead and shoot him a little bit. Just a nick. A small graze right there, across one of his rugged cheeks. Something that will leave a scar so he’ll stop being so damn irresistible.
But even as the thought drove through Natalia’s mind, she knew full well a scar would probably only make the inexplicable pull she felt toward the big jerk that much stronger.
“What do you have for us?” Christian Hunt’s question disrupted her inappropriately murderous thoughts at the exact perfect time.
It was the mental slap to the back of the head she needed.
Refocusing on the real, much more important reason she was here, she retrieved the remote from the table and pointed it at the large, white screen on the wall behind her.
“Meet Arlo Sanchez.” The picture of a man’s unsmiling face appeared. “Current leader of the Los Dios Cartel.”
“They’re the ones who are rumored to be making a huge name for themselves, right?” Liam asked.
“Huge is right.” Natalia pressed another button.
Like a deck of electronic cards being delt, several more images began rapidly filling the screen. A cache of automatic rifles that had been seized at a port near Charleston and several macabre images that represented only a portion of the lives that had been lost.
“In the last six months, they’ve been linked to multiple murders.
” She continued. “By both their own hands and the guns they’ve been smuggling into the U.S.
They’ve even become brazen enough to start breeching competing cartel territory.
” Another click of the remote. “They show no fear. No hesitation. Just the cold-blooded killing of anyone daring to get in their way.”
“Where do we come into the game?” Brody King asked.
The former SEAL was the most stoic one of the bunch. His short, black hair, matching beard, and persistent death stare only added to the man’s perceivably dark demeanor.
“According to intel, Los Dios has made their way inland.”
“Inland where?” Cade Ellis, Delta’s lead sniper chimed in.
Natalia met the thirty-one-year-old’s inquisitive stare before turning and pushing the remote’s button once again. The images that had been there vanished. Taking their place was a large picture of a shipment of ghost guns…complete with armor-piercing ammo.
“This was part of a cache of weapons and ammo seized last week at North Charleston Terminal. Since then, we’ve received credible intel that a shipment twice the size of that one is headed here. To Chicago.”
“When?” John “Rocky” Rockland was the next Delta member to join the conversation.
Cade immediately followed that with a stark, “Where?”
“IIPD.” Natalia used the abbreviation for the Illinois International Port District. “Shipment arrives two days from today, which means we’re running on borrowed time.”
“Well, what do ya know?” Jagger flashed a sideways smirk. “That’s my favorite kind.”
Ignoring him, Natalia continued sharing what she knew about the upcoming shipment. Liam Cutler raised a hand, as if needing permission to speak.
“Not to be that guy, but…why us?” A slight shrug. “Gun smuggling cartels are usually the DEA’s thing, aren’t they?”
“In most cases, yes,” she confirmed. “However, with political tensions already running high, the powers that be decided it best to keep this operation off of the public’s radar.”
“And using Delta Team is your way of ensuring that happens?” Cade scoffed.
“Using your team in place of the DEA or other official government agency gives us a much better chance at keeping this thing under wraps, yes.”
Liam shifted his body against his seat’s red leather. “It’s just that we’d be doing this under your direction. And since you’re with Homeland Security, and…correct me if I’m wrong, but that is a government agency…”
The genius didn’t need to continue for her to understand the point he was trying to make.
“Obviously, this is a Homeland-sanctioned operation,” she agreed before adding a clarifying, “A classified operation.”
“But if things go sideways, the public’s bound to find out about Homeland’s involvement.” Liam couldn’t seem to let it go. “And if that happens—”
“The public isn’t going to find out,” Natalia cut him short. “That’s kind of the whole reason I’m here.”
“She’s right.” Jagger piped up next. “We’ll get in, take care of business, and get out before those gun-smuggling assholes know what hit ’em.
. Besides, if something more…noticeable were to happen, I’m confident our capable handler, here, will make sure it’s reported as nothing more than a worksite accident or something the public will buy. Ain’t that right, Agent Foster?”
That last part came out in a thick, heavy drawl that was solely for her benefit. As if he somehow knew she secretly found the whole southern accent thing a major turn-on.
Impossible.
No one knew that about her. Even living in Texas for the last several years, she didn’t think anything of it before. Not until him.
Not until—
Jagger.
“You have a better idea, Brooks?” she challenged back.
“Would you rather the people of Chicago know the details of the danger cartels are attempting to bring into their streets? Or maybe you want to be the one to tell a bunch of worried moms that a drug lord-slash-weapons dealer wants nothing more than to put an Uzi in the hands of their kids.”
The room grew silent. Natalia waited, but when no one else said anything more, she took it as her cue to continue.