With frantic movements, she ran around the counter’s edge, straight to where Jagger was standing. She stopped inches behind him, using his body to shield hers from the man she obviously still considered a threat.
“It’s okay, darlin’.” Jagger kept his eyes and weapon trained on the bleeding moron. “He’s not gonna hurt you.” A deep chuckle. “After tonight, he’ll be lucky if he can brush his own teeth.” He gave his head a slight tilt. “The ones he has left, anyway.”
“Go to hell, man! This really hurts!”
“Good!” The girl yelled at the man from over Jagger’s left shoulder.
One corner of his lips curved. She was going to be okay, this girl.
The bell chimed as the door flew open. A low curse broke through the air.
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
Jagger turned his crooked grin toward the man who’d just joined them. Tall. Short, brown hair. Matching scruff covering a strong, square jaw.
Detective Tyler Hansen led Chicago PD’s Violent Crimes Division. He’d helped out on a few of Delta Team’s cases and had been an ally of sorts ever since.
“Detective.” Jagger dipped his chin. “I see you got my text.”
The girl behind him slowly came out from her hiding spot. “Text?” Her round eyes lifted to his. “W-when did you have time to send the cops a text?”
“I’m a man of many talents.” Jagger sent her a wink.
Her gaze slid from his to the groaning, bleeding man behind the counter, and back again. “Clearly.”
Yes, she was going to be just fine.
“Guess I don’t have to ask who gets the cuffs.” Hansen motioned for the two uniformed officers who’d followed him inside the store.
While the injured perp was secured, searched, and read his rights, Hansen handled the witness statements. First the girl’s, then his. They were just finishing up when Jagger’s back pocket began to vibrate.
He reached for the phone he’d had the forethought to silence before alerting the detective. A quick glance at the screen confirmed Jagger’s suspicions.
“Sorry. Gotta take this.” He slid his fingertip across the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Hey, man. I was just about to?—”
“So youarealive.” Liam sounded both frustrated and relieved “Guess that answers my first question.”
The unexpected greeting left Jagger blinking. “What’s the second question?”
“What’s taking you so damn long? The guys are all here, and we’ve been…” There was an abrupt pause. “Wait, where are you? Are those police radios I’m hearing? Ah hell, man. You get stopped for speeding again? Because I distinctly remember Hansen telling you the last time that he was done calling in favors to keep your ass from getting a ticket.”
“Relax, Cutler.” He kept an easy-going tone. “I didn’t get stopped for speeding.”
“Oh, good.”
“I shot a guy in the convenience store when I stopped to buy your beer.”
2
You’ve gotto be kidding me.
Natalia—Talia to many of her colleagues—stood at the front of the conference room as six men stared back at her through sets of similarly bloodshot eyes. This was Delta Team. An elite group of former military badasses working under the country’s most renowned private security umbrella known as R.I.S.C.
And every single one of them looked like hell.
R.I.S.C.—which stood for rescue, intel, security, and capture—pretty much summed up the purpose of the private security corporation. The highly successful and well-known corporation caught the attention of Homeland Security not long after its creation.
Since then, the company’s four teams—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta—have taken on the occasional op when the government can’t, or won’t, become “officially” involved. For Natalia, this meant she and her clandestine team worked closely with the members of R.I.S.C.
