Chapter 2
“Pretty words - good. Stranded lady - bad.”
-Flint
A light rap sounded on my office door. I looked up into the face of Rand Kestrel. Our resident nerd at Luke Saber Security wore ripped jeans, a t-shirt with a weird blue phone booth on it, and his requisite lab coat. Rand’s blond hair was a mess, but that wasn’t unusual.
And while he might have dressed like a nerd, he was built like a brick shithouse. The man was ripped and knew how to hold his own while sparring.
“Hey, man,” Rand pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “The new guy is in the conference room waiting for you.”
I grinned like a lunatic. Was it wrong that I enjoyed hazing the new guys?
Rand raised an eyebrow. “He looks like he’s been through it, man. Maybe you could take it easy on him?”
“Take it easy?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Take it easy? Will the dirtbags take it easy on him if he’s caught doing surveillance or following someone?”
“No,” Rand shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.”
I cocked my head but said nothing.
“Just, maybe dial down your testosterone to eleven,” Rand chuckled. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the conference room.
Rand acted like this whole thing interrupted some video game nonsense in his lab, but I knew better. The certified genius worked with our resident hacker, Tatiana, to create all sorts of covert tools to keep our clients safe.
Lately, those clients have included our boss, Luke Saber, and his fiancée Wysdom Ward. They were pregnant with twins and currently in court right now, facing a judge over the custody of their foster kids. Luke tried to surprise Wysdom with a housewarming party at their new home, but the children were left at school accidentally. And a rep from the state showed up for an unannounced visit.
Not the surprise Luke planned.
The rep removed the foster kids from their custody, but I knew Luke and Wysdom would get those kids back. They were fighters.
Which is why I was here to greet the newest member of our team. I reviewed the file on my desk.
Ryker Navarro had been working special reconnaissance in the Army Special Forces. He knew how to track someone who didn’t want to be tracked.
Tracking was my specialty. But I was only one person and couldn’t do all the missions that came through the doors these days. We needed help.
I pushed open the door. Instead of a buttoned-up Green Beret, I was face-to-face with a Native American homeless biker covered in full-sleeve arm tattoos.
“Navarro?” I quirked an eyebrow.
“In the flesh,” the man reached out a hand to shake. I stood five inches taller than him, but he stared me down. He had a firm grip. “But, call me Ryker.”
“Ryker,” I agreed and nodded toward a chair. “Name’s Flint Mendota. Mr. Saber was called away on urgent business this morning.”
The man silently took a chair with the grace of a killer. I bit back a smile.
Here we go.
I tapped his file. “Says here you tracked insurgents near Kandahar.”
Ryker gave me a sharp nod.
“Too busy to take a shower while there?” I narrowed my gaze at him.
He remained still. “Hard when you’re in the mountains.”
“We’re not in the mountains.”
