Addison ripped open the large Velcro tabs with a loud kriiitch, did the same with the inner elastic support band, and slid the vest over her head. It caught the clip in her hair, causing it to tumble around her shoulders in waves.
His palms actually itched to touch it.
Handing him the vest, she gathered her hair in her hands and twisted it, securing it to the top of her head.
He was so fucked. It was karma. Whatever wrongs he’d done in a past life were coming back to torture him now.
Shaking his head, he set the vest on the workbench and grabbed magazine pouches and a combat first aid kit from the rack.
“I’ll do that,” she said. “I like them a certain way.”
“Of course.” He stepped back while she organized her kit and watched the play of arm muscles as she worked. It wasn’t even like he’d never seen her bare arms before. Or legs.
“Do you want a T-shirt to wear while you’re shooting?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Right. She was good. Devon adjusted the crotch of his pants, now that she couldn’t see him. He was not.
Leaning against the shelving, he finally had the perfect vantage point to check her out at his leisure. The last picture he’d seen of her had been from around five years ago. She didn’t normally blog except when she was deployed. In one of her posts, she said it was one of the few ways she stayed sane, but she’d posted about a girls’ weekend to the Florida Keys. She’d included a few pictures of her in a bikini, and he was guy enough to admit he saved them for his spank bank.
His gaze traveled from her shoulders, dotted with freckles, down her back and waist, over the gentle swell of her hips and ass. She didn’t have a full-on hourglass figure, but she dipped and swayed in all the right places. He knew from her beach pictures she was toned, but not to the point she lost any of her softness. The shoes she wore, putting her a few inches shy of his own six foot one, did awesome things for her ass.
He shifted his gaze up when she picked up the vest and turned.
“Where should I put this?” she asked.
Grabbing a black go bag from the shelf behind him, he said, “Keep it in here for now. I’ll come back later to tag it and put in any equipment you might need.”
She slid the vest into the bag and pushed it back on the workbench toward the wall.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” he said. “I was out of line.”
She braced her hands on the edge of the bench behind her, which thrust out her breasts.
Do not look below her chin.
“Why did you?”
He should have expected her to dig for info instead of gracefully accepting his apology. Dropping his head, he ran a hand around the back of his neck, searching for an answer that wouldn’t give him away as a stalker with a decade-long infatuation.
Stick to the truth. At least some of it. “I was worried. And frustrated. I owe Braedon a lot. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him sticking his neck out for me. I feel…responsible for you.”
“The only one responsible for me, is me,” she said firmly.
“I know that intellectually, but it’s not going to stop my gut from feeling that way.”
She crossed her arms at her waist and tilted her head. “I think I have some antacid in my purse.”
He grinned at her response. One of the reasons he’d followed her blog, other than the occasional picture, was her sharp wit and humor. “I’ll give that a try when we get back upstairs. Ready to shoot?”
“Yeah.” A softness entered her eyes, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch, releasing some of the tension she’d been holding.
That tight spot between his shoulders relaxed in response. “This way.”
He led her down the hall, past the elevator, and waved his wallet in front of the badge reader, unlocking the door.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen anyone use a badge,” she said.
“We have to use them to enter and exit the garage. Graham and Paige were adamant about the security of the armory and range.”
“Welcome to my inner sanctum,” Jeremy said, arms outstretched. “I’ve got you set up on lane five. M4 and M9 are already at the station.”
“Do you have a twenty-two?” she asked.
Jeremy placed a hand over his heart and staggered back. “Do I… Do I have a twenty-two?”
Devon rolled his eyes. “Really, Jane?”
“Why do they call you Jane?” Addison asked.
“You ever see the show Firefly?” Devon asked.
“Yes. Oh! Jane! You like guns. Got it.”
“All right. Twenty-twos. I’ve got Smith and Wesson, Ruger, or a Sig Sauer,” Jeremy said.
“Let me try the Ruger,” she said.
“Perfect choice.” He turned and unlocked the cabinet behind him, pulling out the handgun and held it out grip first. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
He grabbed a box of ammo and three magazines. “No problem. You need any help sighting?”
Devon took the box and magazines and placed a hand in the center of Jeremy’s chest. “I’ve got it covered, Jane.”
He smirked. “Sure thing.
Devon glared and caught Addison’s amused look, before badging her through the holding area into the lanes and flipping the light to indicate the range was hot. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said Graham had been adamant about security. TLC’s range was more secure than some commercial firing ranges.
The guns were laid out on the counter along with eye and hearing protection, and the paper target was already clipped to the board.
“You want to shoot pistol or rifle first?” he asked.
“Pistol.” She loaded ammunition into one magazine, while he loaded the other.
He pushed the button to send the target to the end of the lane, stopping about three-quarters of the way down. Rolling a foam earplug, he said, “Whenever you’re ready,” then stuck the plugs in his ears while she did the same.
Devon took note of everything—her posture, her stance, her grip—all as a professional courtesy, of course. She hesitated on the first shot but quickly went through one magazine before dropping it and slamming in a second. In a little more than a minute, she’d expended all thirty rounds.
Taking the headphones off her head, she glanced up at him from the corner of her eye while he brought the target back in.
“Nice. This is probably your first shot.” He pointed to the one hole left of center on the target. All the other shots were clustered at the head, torso, and slightly lower. He shifted in sympathy for his paper friend.
“Yeah. No matter how often I shoot, I always screw up the first one.”
He replaced the paper target with a new one and sent it back down the lane.
Addison locked and loaded the M4 rifle and adjusted her stance before glancing down and flicking a cartridge away with the toe of her shoe.
“Do you want a different pair of shoes?”
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
She was shooting in heels and a camisole and looked like a sexy badass served up on a spent brass platter. Karma was determined to make him her bitch.
At his nod, she flipped the selector to semi and fired off three rounds. He pulled in the target to see where they’d landed.
“Three up, two left,” he said, indicating how she should fix her sights, then sent the target back while she made the adjustment.
They repeated the process twice more, but after each adjustment, her shots were still slightly off.
“I’m not sure what the problem is,” he said. “You’re making the proper adjustments, and I can’t see anything wrong with your stance or your breathing.”
“Ugh. I know what the issue is. Send it back.” She switched her grip and settled the butt of the rifle against her left shoulder.
“Are you ambidextrous?” he asked.
She looked over the stock. “No. I’m left-eye dominant.”
/> “Why not just shoot left-handed from the beginning then?”
“I’m always hopeful I’ll be able to sight on my right hand. I’m more accurate with my left but I’m not as fast.”
Sure enough, the next three shots were dead center of mass. Sending a clean target down the lane, he couldn’t hold his concern in any longer.
“Addison, I’m going to cross a line again.”
She lowered the muzzle of the rifle slightly and gave him her attention.
He held her gaze for several moments, debating whether it was worth it. He knew what her answer was, but he couldn’t hold back. “I don’t think you should go on this mission. It’s not because I don’t think you’re capable,” he said before she could respond. “It’s because I think you’re too close to this, and too much emotion, the wrong kind of emotion, can lead to mistakes.”
If her gaze could have set him on fire, he’d be a pile of ash at her feet. Maybe rightly so, but he wouldn’t be any kind of team leader if he didn’t voice his concerns. He didn’t want to see her get hurt—and not just physically. They had no idea in what kind of shape Braedon would be. If she flinched at the wrong time, it could affect them all.
“I haven’t spent the last forty-eight days trying to get someone to believe that Braedon is alive only to sit on the sidelines and wring my hands like a poor little lady, waiting on word that he’s all right. Someone took him and is hurting him, and I will do whatever I have to do to help get him back.”
She settled the rifle against her shoulder, flipped the selector to auto, and tore a hole in the target.
Chapter 8
Half an hour later, Addison still seethed as they rode up the elevator in silence, unsure why Devon’s suggestion bothered her so much. Other than the inherent misogyny associated with his comment. It wasn’t as if it was the first time someone attempted to sideline her because she had enlarged mammary glands and a vagina, but it was the first time it truly angered her. The first time she took it personally and not as rote sexism.
Maybe because, for a moment after he’d apologized for his morning blunder, she’d felt a connection. He’d done his best to apologize for his actions and he’d meant it. More than that, she’d thought there was another reason for his outburst other than feeling responsible for her. She…liked him. Yes, he was attractive, but there was more to it than looks.
That edge that all special forces guys seemed to have was tempered by a softness she caught hints of every now and then. It didn’t blunt the edge—it honed it. Made it less jagged. Possibly more lethal.
Then he’d told her she should sit this one out. While she had a gun in her hand.
Stupid man.
The elevator stopped with a ding, and she stepped through before the doors opened fully, almost plowing into Angie.
“Oh, hey! I was on my way to find you guys for lunch. We’re ordering sushi.” She rolled her eyes. “And burgers. The guys are getting burgers, Paige and I are getting sushi.”
“I’ll take sushi,” Addison said.
“Sweet! Any preferences? We have some standard rolls we always order.”
“Spicy or crunchy salmon. Or crunchy spicy salmon, if they have something like that.”
“On it.” She pivoted, then turned back. “You guys good? You’re both…tense.”
“We’re fine,” Addison said.
“We’re good, Ange,” Devon said at the same time.
She could feel the heat of his body at her back and resisted the urge to move. Mostly because she wasn’t sure which direction she’d go—toward him or away from him. If she remained still, she might not have to make the decision herself.
Angie’s gaze flitted between them. “O…kay. I almost forgot. Addison, Paige said to send you to her office if I found you.”
“Sure. Where’s her office?”
“On the far side of Graham’s. I can show you.” She indicated over her shoulder.
“That’s okay—I can find it.”
Angie nodded. “I’m going to order food. We’re meeting in the conference room for a working lunch.”
“You didn’t ask me what I wanted,” Devon said.
“Grilled chicken, whole wheat bun, spicy mayo with sweet potato fries.” Angie headed down the hall. “You’re predictable, Devon.”
“I’m not that predictable,” he grumbled. “I just know what I like.”
It felt as if he’d said the last part in her ear so only she could hear it, and the vibrations from his voice raced across her skin, raising the hairs on her arms and puckering her nipples.
Away. Need to go in the opposite direction. “I’m going to Paige’s office.” She felt his eyes on her the entire way down the hall.
Easily finding the office, she knocked on the doorjamb and waited for Paige to finish her phone call.
She waved Addison in. “That’s perfect. Can you have everything sent to Angie? … Yes, Graham’s coming. … I suppose he’s still as hot as ever, but I’m not really the person to make that judgment. … Because that’s like asking me if my brother is hot. I’m just going to tell you ew.” She glanced at Addison with a questioning look.
Addison gave her a thumbs-up and nodded her head.
“Addison Foster says yes, Graham is still as hot as ever. … Yes, she’s coming as well. … We’ll discuss it this afternoon. … Okay, see you in a few days.” She hung up the receiver and swung around to pull a sheaf of papers off the printer behind her.
“What are we discussing this afternoon?” Addison asked.
“My contact is sending Angie some information on your brother and Michael Drake. We’ll go over it in the conference room after we take care of this.”
“Which is?”
“The contract retaining The Leonidas Corporation’s services in finding and retrieving your brother. This is the same contract Michael Drake’s family signed. The retainer is ten thousand dollars.”
Addison’s eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. Shit. That was going to leave a mark. “Is there a cap? A point at which I can’t pay anymore and you stop the mission?”
Paige rested her arms on the desk. “Addison, you don’t need to sign this contract. TLC has the assets to cover the cost of the entire mission. Whether you pay or not, we’re going. We don’t leave our guys behind.”
“You took the Drakes’ retainer,” she said.
“Because we didn’t realize the scope of the issue when they signed it. More than likely, we’ll return the full retainer.”
“Then do the same with me. I’ll pay the retainer, just like the Drakes did. If I get it back, I get it back. If not, it’s just money.” She shrugged a shoulder. Yeah, it was just money, but it was still a lot of money, and she’d feel it once her separation from the Air Force was finalized in two months.
This would wipe out a third of her savings. She should probably figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up.
“All right,” Paige said.
She went through the contract, explaining the conditions and clauses. Addison initialed where indicated and signed on the last page before handing over her credit card with a hard swallow.
The paperwork finished, Paige led them to the conference room where lunch was spread out on a table at the back of the room.
Once everyone was seated with their food, Angie took a position in what Addison was beginning to think of as “Angie’s spot” at the front of the room.
“Thanks to the mysterious Shady Lady, we have an invitation to the auction as well as the location.” She clicked the mouse, and a picture of a fairytale castle appeared on the big screen.
“Disneyland?” Jane asked.
“No. This castle is located on the western coast of the Crimean Peninsula, inland on an estuary of the Black Sea. Using schematics I found from when the castle was put up for sale about ten years ago, I was able to render a decent three-dimensional floor plan of the building. Keep in mind, this is an estimate and not to scale, and doesn’t account for any renovations ma
de after the purchase.
“Also, can I point out there’s a website to buy castles? I don’t know why anything surprises me anymore, but castles.”
“Angela,” Graham said.
“Moving on. Using overhead imagery and photos of the interior that were on the website, I was able to find a smugglers’ tunnel that was bricked up at some point. The team should be able to exfil that way.”
“Should?” Devon asked around a mouth full of food.
“Nothing is ever guaranteed when you can’t see what you’re dealing with. I have no idea how thick the wall will be,” Angie said.
“How big is the assault team going to be?” Addison asked.
“Not big,” Paige said. “Stealth is better. We don’t want to draw a lot of undue attention by blowing up a five-hundred-year-old castle.”
“Our goal is to get in, free your brother and Drake, and get out without having to fight our way in or out,” Graham said.
“Just the four of us inside?” she asked.
“Yes. Jane and Tinker will be outside. Turner and Harrison will be on standby for exfil,” Graham said.
“But before you can get out, you’ll need to take out the security system,” Angie said. “According to the information I received, the security is on a stand-alone server in the castle. I can’t access it remotely—it has to be taken down from the inside.”
“How do we do that?” Jane asked.
“With this.” Angie held up a small black circle. She pulled it apart, revealing the tiniest USB drive Addison had ever seen. “Insert this into any computer wired into the network, and then I’ll be able to access the security system remotely.”
“Attendees can only arrive by water,” Paige said.
Addison’s stomach rolled at the thought of being on a boat, and the spicy salmon rolled with it. She got violently seasick. Taking a sip of her water, she made a mental note to pick up motion sickness medicine at the pharmacy.
“We’ll fly to Odessa in Ukraine. A car will meet us and take us to the port, where we’ll catch a boat to the castle,” Paige said. “It’s a three-day party before the auction. Reportedly, there’s lots of debauchery to be had. If either of you is squirmy about nakedness or sex, you need to get over it quickly.”
Truth In The Lie (The Leonidas Corporation Book 2) Page 5
