Page 1 of Under Control

Chapter One

Carrick

“Moose, hold up. I haven’t cleared the area,” Delta called out to the man jumping out of the passenger side of the armored black SUV.

Former Navy SEAL and decorated war hero Carrick Byrne tilted his head back, giving Delta the usual ‘don’t even start’ expression.

“Relax, big rig. This is just a little ‘find and retrieve’ contract,” Carrick said in a skeptical voice tinted with the slightest Irish accent as he leaned back into the idling SUV. “I don’t think we need to worry about one little girl.”

Delta narrowed his brown eyes, and a lock of his slicked-back dark-blond fell onto his unimpressed face. “She’s been on the run for years. Don’t underestimate her.”

Carrick looked around with obvious sarcasm at the fact that they were literally about to walk through a park on their way to finish the job. Glancing back, Carrick raised his eyebrow to his friend, recognizing the face of someone who wanted to punch him.

“Come on. How much trouble could one chick cause?”

“Your client seems to think she can cause a lot of trouble,” Delta reminded him. “And our intelligence suggests the same. She’s slippery, Carrick—and I don’t think your client is very forgiving.”

“Don’t overdramatize this,” Carrick warned. “This is a nothing contract.”

The two strong, opinionated men exchanged looks before Delta backed off, seemingly knowing that at the end of the day, Carrick was the CEO of Sea-to-Sky Security.

“Have it your way,” Delta said, leaning back. “You’re the boss.”

Moving away from the SUV, Carrick slung his old black hockey skates over his shoulder, heading toward the rink. He flipped up the collar of his black work coat, even further concealing his identity. He had a target to follow. Years of urban reconnaissance and black ops had given him more than enough tactical training to handle the job.

Popping a black baseball hat on and smoothing back his black hair that was peppered with gray, the dark Irish-American moved stealthily.

Delta took off behind him with gusto, but Carrick didn’t care. He just needed to get the job done and over with, then move on to the next one. It should be in and out—quick and easy. Those were the types of cases Carrick needed to build his client base and his reputation as the premiere private security firm in LA.

And, damn it, he was going to do the best job he could—because after losing everything that mattered to him, this new business venture was all he had left.

Carrick focused on the scene before him. The crowd had thinned. It was growing quiet. As he came up to the skating rink, a young couple passed him on the other side of the pathway leading out of the park. They seemed happy—in love. His only instinct was to scowl, and he pulled down the brim of his hat farther as he stooped to put on his skates.

The target was on the ice. It was time to getcloser.

Then retrieve.

Out on the rink, it was nearing closing time, and everyone was clearing out. He was the only one heading in.Good.He needed the space. It was much easier to keep eyes on the target.

At least, that was what he told himself. He wouldn’t admit it, but at that moment—Valentine’s Day night—he wanted nothing else than to have a reason to be alone—alone and away from everything to do with his life, away from the memories.Is this my second Valentine’s Day alone?He shuddered, pushing the thought aside. That wasn’t something he was prepared to feel.

He didn’t have to. The girl was in sight.

Hockey skates on, Carrick moved hard down the bumpy outdoor ice—as hard as the restrictive leather strap of his shoulder holster would allow. Wearing a pistol was like wearing boxers. He did it every day, no matter what. It had come to feel like a second skin.

Keeping his eyes on the ice, not on her, his blood pumped to his engorged muscles and a sated grin crossed his lips. There were very few things in life that served to alleviate his stress—hockey being one. The other was a similar cardio-exhausting exercise that elevated his endorphins, pumped his blood and left him satisfied and spent.

Pushing forward, he observed her—the lone woman skating in the opposite direction, once again nearing his position. Her long brown hair had escaped her pink toque, and her warm breath visibly illustrated her panting chest, even from afar. Carrick had to admit that her form was more than pleasing to look at. Athletic and swift—he didn’t doubt she could give him a run for his money in a race, but he kept his gaze down. He made sure to give her enough space so that he wouldn’t scare her away.

Danica Petrova.

As she was skating past him, he stole one glance of her face, locking eyes. Hehadto see her face in person. All he’d seen was a picture.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Her red cheeks flashed at him and her eyes sparkled.So youthful and full of life.What he’dseen in a blink of an eye held the promise of an eternity of pleasure as he took in her beautiful face.

But then, in an instant, just as her body floated by him, her skate hit a groove in the ice, an unmistakable sound—and common. Turning immediately, he thrust forward and reached out, catching the young woman as she fell. He quickly heaved her back onto her skates, rescuing her from a hard fall. As he held her, she fluttered her dark lashes at him, enchanting and stunning him.

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