“Where’s Logan?” Gunner asked, his voice rising over the growl of the engine. “I thought he was meeting us down here.”
“He’s doing recon,” Cale said, keeping his eyes on the road. Cale was an ex–Army Ranger, one who’d actually been targeted by the EOD for takedown.
He’d been framed for the murders of three EOD agents. He’d proven his innocence and earned his way onto their team.
“Have you seen a picture of the target?” Sydney asked. She was trying hard not to glance back at Gunner, but she was so aware of him. She was hyperaware of every single move that he made.
Had they really spent the night together? She’d wanted him for so long that part of her wondered if it had all just been a wonderful dream.
An erotic dream.
She couldn’t help herself—she glanced back at him.
And found Gunner’s dark eyes locked on her.
There was such heat in that gaze. She swallowed and forced her eyes away from him as Cale said—
“No, I haven’t seen any visuals on him yet. I just know that the order for extraction came down from the top.”
She caught the brief grin that flashed over Cale’s face.
“Seems Mr. Mercer thinks this rescue is priority, and he wanted only the Shadow Agents to take point on this one.”
The Shadow Agents. Sure, there were other teams in the EOD, but their team had earned the moniker of Shadow Agents because of the way they handled their missions. They went in soundlessly and attacked before their enemies even realized they were there. Then they vanished, disappearing like shadows.
Gunner was especially good at being a shadow. If Gunner didn’t want you to know he was there, you wouldn’t.
Sydney knew Gunner’s grandfather had been the one to first train him to track and hunt on a reservation. Gunner was the best hunter she’d ever seen, even better than Slade.
Slade’s body was in Peru. That knowledge was sitting heavily on her now that she was back in the area.
The EOD had tried to recover his remains again and again, but the rebels they’d fought that day had taken his body away from the scene. Despite the EOD’s efforts, they hadn’t been able to bring him home.
Slade had a grave, an empty one, one that honored him as the soldier he’d been. But he’d actually never made it back home.
“Logan told me that you and Gunner had been in Peru before,” Cale said.
She cleared her throat. “A...few times.”
“Logan has set us up in a resort near the beach. You and Gunner are supposed to look like honeymooners.”
Because sometimes it wasn’t about hiding in a hut or sliding through the jungle. Blending in plain sight could work so much better. The EOD knew this well.
“And I’m your single friend, enjoying some R & R myself.” The road was bumpy and the jeep bounced. Once, twice. “Sure is a long way from Texas,” he murmured, and she heard the faint drawl in his voice.
Cale’s home was in Texas, and the EOD agent he’d replaced—Jasper—was currently living in Texas with Cale’s sister.
“When are we looking at extraction?” Gunner asked as he leaned forward. His fingers were on the back of Sydney’s seat. It almost felt as if he was playing with her hair. Was he?
“Logan said this was a fast-moving mission. We want the civilian out of there within twenty-four hours.”
Sydney nodded. Definitely doable. As soon as Logan returned, she’d start her own reconnaissance work. She could uplink to satellites and get aerial maps of the area to find the best places for them to venture in as they started the rescue operation. As long as she had a good computer and the necessary uplink, she’d be able to access anything that the team needed. Tech had always been her specialty.
Then the jeep turned and headed through the high gates of the resort. Sydney put a smile on her face. She could pretend to be a happy honeymooner. With Gunner at her side, she could do anything.
And she was happy, even if painful memories were trying to push their way into her mind. Peru had been a nightmare for her once, but it didn’t have to be again.
The valet hurried over to the jeep. Gunner was already out and reaching for Sydney. His hand curled around hers, swallowing her fingers. His hold was strong, possessive. And the kiss that he brushed over her lips—it felt possessive, too.