Chapter 3
The next afternoon…
Jagger stood with Agent Foster and Christian as they watched the ongoing scene several yards from their location. Gunfire blasted as the members of Echo Team showcased their skills at Christian’s private, outdoor range.
Brody, Rocky, Cade, and Liam were down in the trenches, so to speak. They were giving the newest R.I.S.C. employees specific shooting instructions that tested the limits of their marksmanship abilities.
“So.” Agent Foster crossed her arms at her chest, keeping her shaded eyes focused on the shooters a full two seconds before turning Christian’s way. “What do you think?”
The other man lifted his binoculars and studied the newbies’ progress before answering. “They’re good.” He lowered the lenses. “Really good.”
Hell yes, they are.
The obstacle course. Breaching structures. Hand-to-hand combat.
So far, the members of Echo had aced each and every test Jagger and the others had thrown their way. From what he could tell, the newbies were well on their way to acing the final challenge of the day.
A gust of wind blew past, making him thankful once again, that he was standing upwind from the sexy agent’s enticing scent. Warm vanilla and some sort of spice he couldn’t quite name. Whatever it was, it had been driving him wild since their meeting the day before.
“I’m gonna go in for a closer look.” He didn’t wait for permission before walking away from the torture. But despite the growing distance between them, Jagger was still inundated with the scent of vanilla yards later.
Vanilla? Really?
Yeah, that one surprised him. Nevertheless, it was quickly becoming his all-time favorite scent. Too bad the woman it belonged to was way the hell beyond off-limits.
Another round of gunfire interrupted the unexpected thoughts, and Jagger blinked before lifting the binoculars still clutched tightly in his grip. A long, high-pitched whistle cut through the crisp, fall air as he lowered the high-powered lenses back down to his side.
“Nice shot,” he commended the woman who’d hit her target with damn near perfect aim. “And here I thought demolitions was your thing.”
Gwendolyn Winslow’s smile held a touch of innocence a woman with her background should not possess.
“Shooting’s more of a hobby.” The former Air Force Explosives Ordinance Disposal Technician—EOD for short—gave her shoulder a shrug. “Something to pass the time. My real passion is blowing shit up.”
The five-eight blonde flashed him another girl-next-door smile, looking more like a local beauty queen than a government-trained killer.
Yes, Gwen Winslow appeared innocent enough. But Jagger knew better. He’d read her jacket. Memorized her kill count. And he’d seen photographic proof of the type of destruction Little Miss Sunshine was capable of leaving in her wake.
She’d trained with the best, but Gwen wasn’t solely an expert in keeping bombs from igniting. She also designed, built, and put into play some of the most impressive displays of fiery attacks Jagger had ever seen.
A near-perfect shot and she liked blowing shit to smithereens? She sounded like his kind of woman.
Once upon a time, at least. Lately, Jagger found he was more drawn to brunettes. Just one, really.
Five-foot-four. Olive, naturally tanned skin. High cheekbones. A perfect smile. And a set of gorgeous, brown, almond-shaped eyes that never failed to steal his focus every time they happened to turn his way.
Wish they’d turn my way a little more often.
“A word, Brooks.”
A slow smile lifted Jagger’s lips as Agent Foster walked straight past him without so much as a sideways glance. The intriguing woman kept looking forward, as if she knew he’d follow her wherever she went.
Pretty sure I’d follow her anywhere.
“Keep up the good work, Winslow.” He gave her a friendly—and totally professional—pat on the shoulder.
The skilled Echo Team member flashed another quick smile before readying her weapon once more. “Thanks.” She pulled the trigger one smooth exhale later, firing yet another perfect shot in the center of her target’s bullseye.
Jagger couldn’t decide whether he should be impressed…or scared.
Eh, what the hell. Color me impressed.
“What can I do for you, Agent Foster?” He stopped a safe distance from the woman in charge.
“That depends. Are you done flirting with Winslow, or do the two of you need more time to become better acquainted?”
The not-so-veiled accusation left him blinking with a set of rising brows. But then…was that a hint of jealousy he detected in her tone?
Nah. Couldn’t be.
The stoic beauty had never once shied away from her true feelings where he was concerned.
Foster was not his biggest fan, of that, Jagger was certain.
So no. No way his so-called “flirting” had made her jealous.
Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t use the opportunity to push a few of the intriguing agent’s buttons.
He removed his sunglasses, holding them loosely at his side. He inched closer and closer to where she stood, not stopping until he was directly in front of her.
With his voice kept low and smooth as butter, Jagger slowly lifted one corner of his lips. “Oh, trust me, darlin’.” A deep, southern rumble. “You’ll know flirtin’ when you see it.”
Feeling drunk on warm vanilla and spice, he sent a quick wink her way. A muscle twitched at the side of her delicate jaw.
There it is.
The telltale sign that he’d gotten under her flawless skin. And damn, if he didn’t have to fight the urge to flash her a satisfying grin.
“Hunt and I just finished pairing everyone up for tomorrow’s op.” She ignored his obvious attempt to provoke. With her gorgeous gaze remaining hidden behind her dark lenses, she added, “Once we’re finished out here, we’ll head back inside and go over it all as a group.”
“Okay.” Jagger nodded, assuming there was more.
“You’ll be with me.” An unceremonious announcement. “Figured I’d give you the courtesy of a heads-up.”
Wait…what?
“Me?” Jagger didn’t bother concealing his surprise.
The woman always seemed annoyed as hell whenever he was around. Why would she choose him?
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“A problem?” he parroted with a quick shake of his head. “No, ma’am. No problem at all.”
Not for her, anyway. As for him, Jagger would just have to make damn sure he didn’t let himself become distracted.
Distractions in the field tended to get people dead. And there was no way in hell he’d let her or anyone else die because he couldn’t keep his eyes off of those tempting, toned curves or that perfect, heart-shaped—
Agent Foster’s long, straight ponytail swayed with the breeze as she slid her sunglasses to the top of her head. The woman’s beautiful, caramel eyes finally met his, and damn if his heart didn’t slam against his chest.
“You seem surprised by the news.”
Wait, there was news?
Partners. Right. That’s the news.
Ignoring how the whole I-won’t-let-her-distract-me vow had lasted a grand total of about three seconds, Jagger pulled in a head-clearing breath and released it back out into the open, country air.
“I won’t lie to you, Agent Foster.” He stood casually before her. “I assumed you’d pair up with Hunt.”
“Christian may be in the team’s lead position, but your skill set has a much wider range.”
“Ah, I see. When it comes to saving the Homeland agent’s…six, only the best will do, eh?”
With a single, angry step toward him, the woman put herself in the middle of his personal space.
“That’s right, Brooks. I expect the very best. Would you like to know why?”
“Bet you’re gonna tell me regardless.”
“Bet your ass, I am.” Her narrowed gaze morphed into a full-on glare.
“If something happens to me out there, mission direction is lost. You and I both know that even the slightest gap in leadership out in the field can mean the difference between life and death. So yeah. You’re damn right I want the best watching my ass.
Because if I go down, other lives could be lost as a result.
Lives I’m personally responsible for.” She slapped an impassioned palm to her chest. “And I refuse to lose anyone under my watch.”
Well, when you put it that way…
“Don’t worry, Agent Foster.” He dipped his chin in concession. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep that ass of yours safe.”
“You’d better.” She reached up and slid her sunglasses back down to the bridge of her perfect nose. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to kick yours.”
That long, dark ponytail of hers swung wide as she spun on her heels and walked away. And the first thing that popped into Jagger’s lust-filled mind…
I think I might be in love.
Natalia stood in one corner of Christian and Megan Hunt’s spacious living room and took a bite of the juicy, home-grilled burger.
With her paper plate balanced in one hand, and the burger in the other, she used the stolen moment to study the interactions between the men of Delta, their wives, and the six members of Echo.
The two groups already appeared to be comfortable with one another. They talked, laughed, and shared stories like life-long friends.
Not Natalia, though. No, no. Not her. She was in her usual spot, so to speak. Always the one standing on the proverbial outside.
Always looking in.
“There’s plenty more where that came from.” Megan appeared at Natalia’s right.
Petite. Shoulder-length, brown hair. Cute button nose, and warm, friendly eyes that held hints of blues and greens. Christian’s wife—who also happened to be Brody King’s sister—was as adorable as she was sweet.
“Thanks.” Natalia’s lips curved into an appreciative smile. “But I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish the rest of this.” She motioned to the half-eaten baked potato and small portion of green beans that remained on her plate.
“No worries. Leftovers never tend to go to waste around here.”
“Boy, if that ain’t the truth.”