1
Aarav dashed across the roof of the Shields’ headquarters toward the sleek black chopper that touched down on the building’s helipad. Through the bubble of tinted windshield, he recognized the pilot who most often flew his boss Jordan’s private jet. Aven locked eyes with him and nodded, inviting him onboard.
Though they were in one hell of a hurry, he made sure to open the closest door for his teammate Sola, who was sprinting beside him despite her gorgeous crimson satin dress and matching heels. The shimmery fabric flowed out behind her, whipped by the wind from the rotors, making her look more like a goddess than a do-gooder assassin. She swatted away the hand he offered and vaulted into their ride, nearly crushing his arm in the door as she slammed it shut behind her.
Okay. So she was still pissed. And they were going to spend the next several hours locked in a tin can together before having to put their lives in each other’s hands.Perfect.
Aarav ducked then darted around in a crouch behind the helicopter. He joined Sola in the backseat. In his lap, he clutched a military green canvas duffle and a mismatching rainbow-striped reusable shopping tote. Jordan’s wife, Wren, had thrust that at him as they booked it out of their headquarters, which was currently hosting a wedding reception for two of their operatives and the woman they had pledged their lives to.
As much as Aarav wanted to smooth things over with Sola, their job had to come first. Because if he fucked that up, one or both of them might not make it back to have anything to argue about. And no way in hell was he ever going to let her get hurt because of him, or the very unwelcome disturbance his feelings for her had become lately.
If that meant she and the rest of the team thought of him as some kind of slaughter robot, devoid of emotion, then so be it. He snatched a headset from the seatback pocket and put it on even as Sola mirrored him.
“My rifle?” Aarav asked Aven, who was already taking off again.
“The flight crew was loading your sniper shit into the plane and double checking your inventory list when I left.” She grunted. “It’s heavy as fuck and—”
“Sensitive.” Aarav figured it made him an asshole for reminding them every single time, but he couldn’t afford for his scope or anything else to be even a hair out of alignment when he was taking shots from damn near a mile away.
“Must be a male gun if it needs to be babied. They can punt my kit into the cargo hold from the hanger and it’ll be fine.” Sola crossed her arms, which emphasized the swells of her breasts visible above the low bodice of her dress. “Or maybe Aarav gets jealous anytime someone else touches his stuff, huh?”
He groaned. How the hell was he going to get himself out of the mess he’d made with Sola? “Look, I didn’t mean to chase your date away. It’s not my fault he was too intimidated to stick around past the introductions to the team.”
Aven whistled. “So it’s going to bethatkind of trip. I’ll be sure to keep the cockpit door closed so you two can hash out your drama.”
Sola whipped her loose hair over her shoulder. It might as well have lashed Aarav. Seeing her like that—gorgeous and unfettered—unlike she appeared in her typical commando gear or exercise clothes, her hair tightly braided, made him realize that just maybe he’d been ignorant to assume his feigned disinterest hadn’t affected her. This woman who existed beneath the armor she usually wore around the rest of the world was vulnerable. Protective instincts combined with the lingering spikes of possessiveness and envy that had stabbed him when he’d realized she’d invited someone else, an outsider, to the wedding. Holy hell, he’d really fucked things up.
He angled to face her. “Sola, I’m sorry. Truly.”
“For what?” She locked gazes with him.
Was this a test? If so, he knew the myriad ways in which he’d screwed up. The problem was, he still didn’t know how to fix the issues they had. “For being who I am and for how difficult that makes it to wear my heart on my sleeve. I wish I could be more like James.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of their office manager, who ran their operation as smoothly as he navigated the complex polyamorous relationship he had with his husband, wife, and former construction crew, along with the rest of their spouses. Aarav couldn’t get things right with the one person he cared about, never mind nine of them. James was a genius when it came to emotions and communication.
Aven flew their helicopter as competently as she did their jet. The added agility of the aircraft made it seem as if she was chasing a hummingbird as she wove an aggressive path around Middletown before arrowing toward the private airport where their plane awaited.
He blamed her expert maneuvering for the flip-flops his stomach performed. It would have been better if that were the truth. Instead, he was pretty sure the slight relaxing of the tension around Sola’s eyes at his admission was responsible for his unwelcome tingles.
“Does that mean you’re willing to try to open up? Just a little?” Sola leaned toward him, her lips parting as she waited for his response. “How can I be your partner if I have no idea what you’re thinking half the time?”
Aarav gulped. His fingers dug into the webbing of his duffle strap. Letting her in meant risking a lot. It wasn’t like they were crossing guards. Their job came with real risks. And a much lower than average life expectancy. He’d lost most everyone he’d loved.
But the truth was, he already cared for Sola—not to mention the rest of their colleagues and friends—even if he’d refused to admit it because the idea of having them ripped away too terrified him. No matter what he did now, he was fucked.
The only thing worse than setting himself up for the inevitable, excruciating pain of grief would be disappointing Sola in the meantime. Damn it. So he scrunched his eyes closed, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll try.”
And when he opened them again, it was to her beautiful lips tipped up on one side in the hint of a smile that was more pronounced given the glossy lipstick she’d worn for their friends’ special occasion. He swore to himself then that he’d do his best to return her expression to the full-on beam she’d had not too long ago when she’d been inspiring his wicked thoughts as she danced with Kennedy, Ruby, and some of the other women who were part of the Shields team and their greater sphere of friends including the Powertools, Hot Rods, and Hot Rides.
Sola covered his hand with hers and pried his fingers out of the death grip he had on his duffle. She relaxed him and entwined her hand with his, promising him silently that whatever shit they got themselves into, she would remain by his side through it. He believed her. That faith was probably what had allowed his damned feelings to bubble up around her in the first place.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Aven cleared her throat as they began their descent onto the tarmac. She tapped her ear, making them aware they had company on the comms. “Jordan needs you to conference in with him for a briefing. The secure video link is already open and waiting for you in the cabin of the jet. My flight crew and I will take care of everything else.”
“Thanks.” Sola nodded to Aven, then unbuckled the instant the chopper kissed the ground. The landing was so graceful and smooth, Aarav hardly noticed given the pounding of his heart. Sola hopped down and adjusted her dress before climbing the stairs to the waiting jet as if she were a starlet arriving on a red carpet instead of a hit woman about to board a flight to an execution.
“Hey.” Aven got his attention, stopping Aarav from following on Sola’s heels.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve never seen her like this. Unsure. Whatever you have to do, get her head in the game before you come back down those stairs.” Aven jerked her head toward where Sola had vanished, making her long, strawberry-blond hair swing on either side of her pale face dotted with freckles. “Neither of you can afford that. You have to trust each other completely or this isn’t going to work. I don’t like transporting dead bodies. The blood stains are hell to get out of that cream upholstery.”