A few years ago, I would have questioned myself for this train of thought, but then I joined Task Force Phoenix andmet Logan. Now, I just roll with it. Rolling a little too freely sometimes, according to Logan.
“I should sit in the backseat with her,” I say.
“No.”
“She could throw up. You don’t know how she reacts to your cocktail. Aren’t you close to exceeding your limit this quarter? And now you want to risk killing a witness? Bold move, Logan.”
“Shut,” he groans, throwing her into my arms, “up.”
I walk around the car with a smile on my face.
“Witnesses cause problems, that’s why you don’t leave ‘em. Why are you even in the military? Walked up to the wrong booth on career day, didn’t check twice where you put your signature?”
Okay, someone is extra snarky today.
“Saw a K9 and thought they’d let you play with puppies all day?”
I don’t bother interrupting him and just let him blow off some steam while I try to get the girl in our car.
“You’re way too nice for this. Too soft.”
One day, I’ll create Logan-Bingo cards for the guys and me.
Too soft. He says it like my conscience is a bad thing. Unfortunately, his lack of empathy is among the reasons I would jump into a volcano if it got me his attention. That, and his dick.
A little out of breath, I flop down in the backseat next to Mrs. Holton. Getting an unconscious person in a car and keeping them upright while buckling them up proved to be quite the challenge. A failed one, too, because the person doesn’tstayupright.
Logan turns around after starting the engine, far from delighted as he sees that Mrs. Holton’s head is now resting on my lap.
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask, grinning.
“No, but I believe in Charlie being unable to do a proper background check.” He reverses out of the garden and after making a harsh u-turn once we’re on the street, he searches for my gaze through the rearview mirror. “If I find out you planned this, Max, I swear to God—“
“Focus on the road.”
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Logan searches the pockets of his tactical vest. He holds up a filled syringe for me to see before he drops it on the passenger seat.
“There’s still a dose of the Cabrera Good Night Special left, so you better not test my patience unless you want some.”
“Is that your idea of foreplay?”
I kick my feet against his seat as I get comfortable and Logan resorts to digging his nails into the steering wheel.
With a smile on my face, I look down at our fresh addition. Neither she nor Logan know about their luck yet, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
“Haven’t you stared at her enough in the past 48 hours?”
“I was observing the house. You know, doing my job.”
“So they pay you for stalking married girls?”
“It’s not stalking if it’s part of a mission.”
I look out of the window until I’m sure Logan is no longer monitoring me through the rearview mirror.
For the last two days, we were staying in the house across from our target, Mr. Holton. Sam got a nervous rash seconds after entering the building and Captain Rockwell had to scout the surrounding area, something he coincidentally remembered once it became clear we had to clean part of the house.
I’m not a neat freak like Sam, but everyone has a line. Mine is at fossilized crusty plates in the sink and scratching sounds that come from inside mountains of undefinable material. Since we were the only ones left, Logan and I had to set up our camp in the biggest bedroom on the second floor.
