She grabbed his elbow, pulled him aside, and hissed, “You will agree to this, or I will burn your entire career to the ground. I don’t care if it takes me down, too. This shit stops right now. Today.”
Breakneck felt a slow, involuntary smile pull at his mouth. Fuck, she was magnificent, and his body stirred all over again.
Ice folded his arms across his chest like he’d just found his new favorite Canadian.
Boomer muttered, “Oh yeah. She’s definitely one of ours.”
Skull whispered, “Break’s fucked.”
Breakneck didn’t answer.
He was too busy watching the woman at the front of the room command a division, a team of foreign operators, and the remnants of her patience all at once.
Damn if he didn’t want her even more for it.
The moment hung there, charged, brittle, electric, as if the air itself wasn’t sure what to do next.
Blair stepped back from Darrow like she hadn’t just handed him his spine with surgical precision. She smoothed a hand across the top file in front of her, eyes calm, voice steady.
“Let’s proceed,” she said.
Chairs scraped. Ice moved to one end of the table, commanding without announcing it. The DEA agents stiffened like men bracing for the fallout they knew was coming. Boomer and Skull flanked Breakneck instinctively, silent walls of muscle and loyalty.
Darrow slunk toward the far side of the conference table, posture too rigid for a man pretending to be in control.
Blair stood at the head. Not Darrow. Her.
Breakneck felt that like a hot, undeniable truth sinking into his bones.
She clicked on the overhead monitor. A satellite map of the Stone Creek Ranch region illuminated the wall, a bright pulse of terrain and heat signatures overlaid in red.
“As you all know, this is where the operation failed,” she said. “Where Petty Officer Gatlin got his intel and was jumped and tortured.” She looked at Iceman with a faint nod. “I believe Master Chief Snow has a question for you that hasn’t been answered yet.”
Carver straightened. “We dropped the ball. We were too focused on the border guard he flagged so that we could solidify his cover. We haven’t had time to dive in, and we don’t know what happened exactly.”
“We do,” Blair cut in, “because Petty Officer Gatlin heard it firsthand.” She inclined her head toward Breakneck, her tone leveling into that quiet authority that made men sit straighter. “Petty Officer?—”
“Breakneck,” he said. “Callsign is fine.”
“Breakneck. Tell them what you told me.”
Breakneck cleared his throat, ribs twinging. “I overheard Ramos getting inside information regarding the DEA pulling Marques’s jacket. They have someone on the inside.”
He let his gaze drift toward Carver, slow, deliberate. “After they strung me up and started tuning up my torso and tazing my nads, they discovered their shipment was confiscated by RCMP. Said they were hitting RCMP HQ to get the product back.”
Carver’s jaw tightened. “We had no knowledge?—”
“Then you lost control of your own operation,” Blair said. “It landed on my doorstep.”
Ice snorted. “Welcome to the meeting, gentlemen. Given your track record. We’ll be handling Break’s backup from now on. As for you, who’s watching your backs now?”
Carver shot daggers at Ice, then cleared his throat. “We would be grateful to have your support, Master Chief, and you, Sergeant Brown.”
Breakneck wondered how that crow was going down. Rough. Very rough.
Skull leaned toward Breakneck. “Five bucks says Ice snaps one of their necks by accident before this is over.”
Breakneck didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
