12. Flynn
CHAPTER 12
FLYNN
Nothing like a little midnight B and E with a beautiful woman who nearly came apart in your mouth thirty minutes ago.
Man, sometimes I really love my job.
The tracker led us to a private airfield on the outskirts of Monte Carlo, where the rich and infamous park their jets between champagne-soaked weekends of gambling and Mediterranean yacht parties. The airfield was a playground for billionaires—all sleek hangars and private terminals that never asked questions as long as the money was right.
Vidal’s signal had stopped moving about fifteen minutes ago, pinging steadily from a hangar at the far end of the runway. Sleek, modern, and clearly designed to keep prying eyes out. Perfect place to stash experimental tech you’re planning to sell to the highest bidder.
“What do you think?” Lyric whispered, crouched beside me in the shadows of a maintenance shed. She’d pulled a black cap down over her hair to hide the golden strands, and combined with the dark tactical gear, she looked like a shadow given form. Beautiful. Dangerous. “Two guards at the main entrance, probably more inside.”
I studied the hangar through my night-vision monocular. “There’s a service entrance on the east side. Minimal coverage. Probably our best bet.”
She nodded, all business now, though I caught her glancing at my mouth when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Yeah, princess. I’m still thinking about it, too.
The memory of her taste lingered on my tongue, and the unfinished business between us hummed in the air like an electric current, but we were both professionals. We could compartmentalize. For now.
Focus, Shepherd.
“Take point,” I murmured, slipping the monocular back into my pocket. “I’ll handle any security systems.”
We moved in tandem through the shadows, keeping low as we skirted the perimeter fence. The service entrance was just where I’d spotted it—a small door tucked between industrial air conditioning units, barely visible unless you knew to look for it.
“Camera,” Lyric murmured, pointing to a small black dome mounted above the door.
I pulled a compact signal jammer from my pocket. “Ozzy’s new toy. Should give us two minutes before their system notices the loop.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You stole Ozzy’s prototype?”
“Borrowed,” I corrected with a smirk.
“Borrowing implies he knows you have it.”
“Just a temporary reallocation of resources.” I activated the jammer. “Besides, he’d never let me test it otherwise.”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“Only if he finds out.” I watched the tiny light shift on the device shift from red to green. “We’re good. Clock’s ticking.”
Lyric moved immediately, extracting a set of lock picks from her belt. She worked fast, and within seconds I heard the satisfying click of the lock disengaging. She was good—really good. Like, better-than-me good, though I’d never admit that out loud.
She eased the door open just enough for us to slip through, and we entered the darkness of the hangar’s service corridor.
The air inside was cool and smelled of jet fuel and metal. Our footsteps were whisper-quiet as we moved deeper into the building. Up ahead, a slice of light spilled from beneath a door.
“Movement,” Lyric breathed, freezing in place.
I nodded, drawing my SIG and keeping it low. We pressed ourselves against opposite walls as the door opened, spilling harsh fluorescent light into the corridor. A guard stepped through, radio crackling at his hip, heading in the opposite direction.
Once he was gone, we continued forward, following the corridor until it opened into the main hangar space. We paused at the threshold, taking in the scene before us.
The hangar was massive, easily large enough to house multiple private jets, but instead of aircraft, the space was filled with shipping containers arranged in a grid. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their movements regular and predictable.
“Holy shit,” Lyric murmured as we slid into cover behind one of the containers. “How are we going to find Sentinel?”
I spotted a stack of crates nearby and shot her a quick grin. “Can you climb?” Before she could protest, I slipped away, scaling the crates to reach the catwalk that ran along the upper perimeter of the hangar. From here, I was shielded from view by the poor lighting, but had a perfect view of the entire operation below.
Lyric settled next to me with a huff. “What are you, freaking Spider-Man?”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
She snorted softly and looked down at the floor below. “My God. There’s so much more than just Sentinel here.”
“Yeah, looks like Moreau’s been collecting all the fun toys.”
The sheer volume of tech assembled in the hangar was staggering. It wasn’t just Sentinel MK-IV. This was a full-blown black market weapons bazaar in the making and I dreaded to think what other goodies waited in those many crates. If even one of these technologies fell into the wrong hands, the consequences would be catastrophic. All of them together? Unthinkable.
I spotted Vidal across the hangar, standing with two Asian men in expensive suits who were definitely not security. One handed him a tablet, which he studied intently before nodding.
“Buyers,” Lyric breathed. “Fuck. They’re doing pre-auction viewings.”
I grabbed my radio off my belt. “Time to loop in the team.”
“Wait—” she started, but I’d already switched to the team’s secure channel.
“Grim, this is Outlaw. Come in.”
A beat of silence, then Ethan’s voice came through my earpiece. He sounded calm and collected, but I knew the man better than just about anyone. He was pissed. “Outlaw. Where the fuck are you and Siren? Oz said you’re not at the hotel.”
“We took a joyride and ended up in Broker’s storage facility.”
A beat. “You’re… where ?”
Oh, yeah. He was beyond pissed. I could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose right now, that vein in his temple throbbing.
“Siren planted a tracker on Broker’s security chief. He led us to a hangar at a private airfield. There’s more than just Sentinel here. It’s a goddamn candy store of illegal tech. Multiple containers, armed security, and potential buyers already getting tours.”
“Stand by,” Ethan said, his voice tight with suppressed fury.
Lyric shot me a look that could have melted steel. “I told you to wait.”
I shrugged. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
“Not with Grim,” she hissed, pressing deeper into the shadows as a guard passed nearby.
Before I could respond, Ethan’s voice cut back in. “What exactly are we looking at, F?”
I scanned the facility, cataloging what I could see. “Multiple shipping containers, uniformly arranged. Military-grade security. At least eight armed guards that I can see, probably more we can’t. Vidal’s giving a tour to what looks like Chinese buyers.”
“Chinese military intelligence,” Lyric corrected. “I recognized the guy on the left from a previous job. His name is Wei Zhao. Deep cover MSS agent who specializes in weapons procurement.”
I pulled out my monocular and watched the men move toward a container labeled with nothing but a barcode. “I haven’t had the pleasure of tangoing with China’s version of the CIA before.”
“Wouldn’t recommend it,” Lyric said dryly.
“Can you identify what they’re examining?” Ethan asked, his tone shifting from anger to focused, intense team leader.
I adjusted my position slightly, trying to get a better view without exposing myself. The Chinese agents were hovering over what looked like a glass display case, Vidal gesturing proudly at whatever lay inside.
“Negative. Too far away,” I replied. “So what’s the play here? We’ve got eyes on multiple weapon systems, but no confirmation on Sentinel’s location.”
A pause. Then Ethan’s measured response: “Sabotage what you can and get the hell out of there. I’ll send Maverick to scoop you up.”
“Might get hot.”
“Mav can handle it.”
“Copy that,” I murmured, watching as Vidal guided the Chinese agents to the next container. “We’ll need twenty minutes.”
“You’ve got fifteen,” Ethan replied. “Radio with your exfil. Maverick will be waiting.”
I switched off the radio and turned to Lyric. “Time to get creative.”
“Wait. If we try something here, we’re as good as dead.” She put a hand on my arm to stop me from moving and moved closer so that her lips were directly by my ear. It sent heat straight to my cock and took me back to the the hotel room.
“Look.” She pointed in the opposite direction from Vidal and the Chinese agents. The hangar doors were open, and men were loading the crates into a truck. “If we follow it, we might be able to find out the auction’s location.”
“It’s not on the invite?”
“No. We’re supposed to meet Moreau Friday at the docks.”
I exhaled a breath. “So it’s probably happening on a fucking island. The truck will just take us to Moreau’s yacht.”
“Exactly.” Lyric’s breath on my ear was torture.
I wanted her mouth back on mine.
Hell, I wanted her everywhere.
“They’re going to hold the auction on international waters,” she whispered, “where it’s beyond most countries’ jurisdiction. We follow, we watch. Then we can plan a proper assault instead of improvising in a hangar full of armed guards.”
I watched the men loading the truck. They were working methodically, moving crates according to some system I couldn’t quite figure out. But one thing was clear—they were only taking certain containers, leaving others behind. “Grim wants us to sabotage what we can here and bail.”
“And I want to complete this mission without getting shot.” She shifted beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “We might learn more than we would by blowing things up here and risking exposure.”
She had a point. “Fine,” I conceded. “But those containers can’t make it to their destination.”
“They won’t.” She paused. “Trust me, Flynn.”
I looked at her. In those green eyes, I saw fierce determination—and something else. Vulnerability. She thought I didn’t trust her, and that fact hit me like a sucker punch. We’d known each other for less than a week, and somewhere between flirting and fighting, she’d become important. Someone I wanted to protect—not because she needed it, but because I wanted to be the one she turned to when she needed help.
“I trust you,” I said.
And, despite my best instincts, I meant it.
I didn’t do partners or teams, except in limited circumstances that came with high rewards. In fact, Ethan Voss was one of only two men on Earth I trusted implicitly. The other was Tucker Quentin, and that was because the three of us had bled together in places that never made it onto maps. And because working for Tuc always came with very nice paydays. The guy had more money than God now and wasn’t shy about sharing it with his battle buddies.
But Lyric was different. She’d slipped past my defenses with alarming ease.
I was letting her into spaces I normally kept locked down tight. And that was dangerous…
Maybe more dangerous than any weapon in this hangar.