“I understand you all may have reservations about going into a high-octane situation with a bunch of strangers,” she informed him. “That’s why I took the liberty of putting together a file for each of you to look over. Everything you need to know about R.I.S.C.’s newest team is in there. Names. Background. Service history…” Natalia sent a quick glance Cade’s way before adding, “There’s even a list of their specialized skills included with the rest of the intel.” Returning her focus to the team as a whole, she went on to say, “But for now, we’ll spend the first part of the day going over each calculated step of the plan.”
“And the last half?” Brody swiveled his chair to better face her.
“I suggest you spend the afternoon getting to know as much as you can about your newest colleagues. Because two days from now, you’ll be putting your lives in each other’s hands.”
A thick, uneasy silence loomed over them before Christian took control of the room once more.
“Okay, boys.” He pushed against the table’s edge, rolling his chair back so he could stand. “You heard Agent Foster. We’ll work through the details of the op and fill Echo in on the plan when we meet up with them tomorrow.”
“Are we just coming back here for that meeting, or—” Liam started to ask.
Christian cut him short with a quick shake of his head. “Actually, I was thinking we should have them meet us at my place.” The group’s leader brought his brown gaze to hers. “My wife and I live just outside the city,” he explained. “It’s secluded, secure, and we have outdoor and indoor shooting ranges, as well as a few training areas set up for practicing various scenarios and skills.”
“Impressive.” Natalia offered a friendly smile. “And it sounds like the perfect place for everyone to get acquainted and prepared. When we’re finished here, I’ll pass along the details of time and place to Echo’s team leader. In the meantime, we need to iron out a plan that’ll ensure the cartel’s guns never reach Chicago’s streets.”
3
The next afternoon…
Jagger stoodwith Agent Foster and Christian as they watched the ongoing scene several yards from their location. Gunfire blasted as the members of Echo Team showcased their skills at Christian’s private, outdoor range.
Brody, Rocky, Cade, and Liam were down in the trenches, so to speak. They were giving the newest R.I.S.C. employees specific shooting instructions that tested the limits of their marksmanship abilities.
“So.” Agent Foster crossed her arms at her chest, keeping her shaded eyes focused on the shooters a full two seconds before turning Christian’s way. “What do you think?”
The other man lifted his binoculars and studied the newbies’ progress before answering. “They’re good.” He lowered the lenses. “Really good.”
Hell yes, they are.
The obstacle course. Breaching structures. Hand-to-hand combat.
So far, the members of Echo had aced each and every test Jagger and the others had thrown their way. From what he could tell, the newbies were well on their way to acing the final challenge of the day.
A gust of wind blew past, making him thankful once again, that he was standing upwind from the sexy agent’s enticing scent. Warm vanilla and some sort of spice he couldn’t quite name. Whatever it was, it had been driving him wild since their meeting the day before.
“I’m gonna go in for a closer look.” He didn’t wait for permission before walking away from the torture. But despite the growing distance between them, Jagger was still inundated with the scent of vanilla yards later.
Vanilla? Really?
Yeah, that one surprised him. Nevertheless, it was quickly becoming his all-time favorite scent. Too bad the woman it belonged to was way the hell beyond off-limits.
Another round of gunfire interrupted the unexpected thoughts, and Jagger blinked before lifting the binoculars still clutched tightly in his grip. A long, high-pitched whistle cut through the crisp, fall air as he lowered the high-powered lenses back down to his side.
“Nice shot,” he commended the woman who’d hit her target with damn near perfect aim. “And here I thought demolitions was your thing.”
Gwendolyn Winslow’s smile held a touch of innocence a woman with her background should not possess.
“Shooting’s more of a hobby.” The former Air Force Explosives Ordinance Disposal Technician—EOD for short—gave her shoulder a shrug. “Something to pass the time. My real passion is blowing shit up.”
The five-eight blonde flashed him another girl-next-door smile, looking more like a local beauty queen than a government-trained killer.
Yes, Gwen Winslowappearedinnocent enough. But Jagger knew better. He’d read her jacket. Memorized her kill count. And he’d seen photographic proof of the type of destruction Little Miss Sunshine was capable of leaving in her wake.
She’d trained with the best, but Gwen wasn’t solely an expert in keeping bombs from igniting. She also designed, built, and put into play some of the most impressive displays of fiery attacks Jagger had ever seen.
A near-perfect shotandshe liked blowing shit to smithereens? She sounded like his kind of woman.
Once upon a time, at least. Lately, Jagger found he was more drawn to brunettes. Just one, really.
