Page 13 of Under Pressure

He crept farther back in her yard, closer to the fence, watching her sway in the darkness. Hurt. Vulnerable. She exhaled in frustration in the distance, saying nothing, but meaning everything. He felt it too. He’d shown up with one plan and was leaving with another.

One final time, she turned her face back to him, watching his shadow in the darkness. Putting his mask and hood back on, he listened to her final request.

“Stay away from me.”

A few ungentlemanly thoughts crossed his mind as he watched her disappear. It wasn’t like him to allow things to end like this—not on his terms—but he had to be somewhere else. Readying himself to hop her fence, he pulled the second glove out of his pocket, matching it up with the first—the second most important thing he’d recovered from Kendra’s car.

Chapter Six

Out of the Malibu hills and back into the LA basin, it didn’t take Delta more than an hour before he found himself at his target destination. Willow Avenue had found itself home to a number of commercial and industrial spaces, including a non-descript five-story red brick building on the edge of the city. It was a building that wanted no attention and advertised nothing.

Delta considered himself an open-minded kind of guy, but there was one thing he didn’t do—visitor’s passes. And that was partially why he found himself taking the shadowy side entrance to the building he’d once visited legitimately in the sober light of day. Plus, he didn’t doubt building security would have questions about why he was carrying a pistol and a bunch of gear that could only be described as break-in tools.

Ninja shit.

In dusty black jeans—ripped in the thigh from hopping a barbed fence the past week—and a thick black long-sleeve shirt with enough pockets to carry gear, he pulled out an instrument used to pick the lock on the delivery receiving door. By that time of night, it was closed off and secured. It was a good thing he was an expert at that shit. He could do it in his sleep. He had his black hood up, his black mask on and the barrel of his pistol dug into his tailbone, held by a pancake holster in the back of his jeans. He didn’t expect trouble—but he intended to create it.

Delta was comforted by the cold steel of the gun’s barrel chilling his skin as he crouched low to assess a light he saw on the bottom part of the door frame. It flickered, and he flinched before taking a deep breath to calm his mind. It wasn’t a camera. Just a light reflection, he realized, before returning to his task.

Seeing Kendra was a mindfuck and had left him feeling all shades of messed up—even more messed up than a guy who spent all night, every night, doing anything but sleeping. Hell, every goddamn night, being alone reminded him of what he’d lost. Though, he wasn’t sure if he’d really lost something he’d never gained. It had only been one night.

Unfortunately, the memory of her pouting, sexy mouth pressed against his was just fucking distracting—so much so that he nearly dropped his instrument on the concrete. Fumbling to catch it, he felt the lock crack. Shit. He froze, holding the door handle tightly, praying to fucking God that he hadn’t wrecked the damn mission.

Damn, memories of Kendra were wildly disruptive. It had been a year since their one-night stand, but he’d never gotten over it. His mind stirred, unable to shake the sensory details—her long, lean back arching as he held her wrists down, on top of her, giving her everything he had. She liked it hard and rough, liked it when he owned her. She wanted to be claimed, and he had been more than happy to do it. That aging memory had served him more times than he’d like to count that year, deployed in another hellhole with nothing but a helmet to serve as a pillow.

Delta sucked in air, dazed. It was time to raid. He braced himself against the door, exhaling slowly, trying to refocus his mind and urging the blood back out of his cock. He didn’t have enough in his system to supply both his dick and his brain at the same time. And once he breached the door, it was fucking time. He had to get his game face on. He had to be in and out—and be smart about it, too—get what he needed and get out before getting caught.

Turning the handle to test, he gazed down at his glove, the one he’d recovered, and noticed a small hole in the knuckle. Letting out a breath of relief, he counted his blessings when the door popped and opened. He shook his head. Luck was always on his side. A cold rush rippled up his arms, like an icy storm brewing.

Within seconds, Delta was stalking silently up the stairs, honing in on the lab stationed on the top floor. He’d been there before, so he knew where he was going. Out of the stairwell, the hallway was as quiet as the night, and he needed it to stay that way. He slunk low and quick, making his path to the secure entry to the lab, where he knew guards were stationed. He’d have to fight his way in.

Delta had fought for his country for years—fighting for what was right, fighting for the innocent in the worst, most insane war zones. Now, he should be like his best friend—retired with a girl on his arm and a kid on the way. But that wasn’t him. He was a hunter, and he was hunting…because he didn’t have a choice.

Why the fuck are they doing it? Delta thought, gripping his pistol outside the secure entry, listening to the voices inside. He didn’t fear the fight into the lab, but he feared what he would find inside. They’d been progressing faster than planned, faster than Delta could keep up with. Innocent people were getting caught up in a game they didn’t understand.

Pulling his pistol out of the back of his jeans, he leaned against the wall beside the secure entry, out of sight of the camera that hung in the corner as well as the peephole on the office door. Delta knew the angles. He’d been trained to know. They’d trained him to be the best, and he’d trained himself to be better than that.

With a curt rap on the door, he waited patiently as surprised voices scuffled about within. The guards were checking security cameras. Cameras, he knew, were everywhere in the building. But that was exactly what was on his side. There were too many cameras for them to adequately watch them all. Delta relied on his inhuman speed and stealth for the element of surprise.

So, he remained out of sight, which allowed the familiar sound of shock and fear to be heard from the interior. Those were sounds he recognized well—ones that energized him and ran through his veins like a tonic. Sounds that gave him the feeling that shit was about to go down.

The security door opened a crack, but before he let the staff get a good look, he hurtled his heavy foot against the door, crashing it open and aiming his gun at the guards.

“Get the fuck down!” he ordered.

Chapter Seven

One year before

“Why are we training with the SEALs?” Kendra balked as she tied her running shoe that was propped against her car.

Beside her, adjusting his workout shorts, Hunter snickered. “Don’t worry, kid. They won’t bite.”

Kid? Kendra stood, giving her staff sergeant the side-eye. Fiddling with her outfit—black athletic tights and slack-fit light gray T-shirt—she silently fumed. Hunter’s words surprisingly failed to comfort her.

Hunter kicked off, marching through the SEAL base toward the training course, forcing Kendra to catch up behind him. Since she’d been jogging, the heat rose at the back of her neck. For the middle of an LA winter, it was unseasonably warm. Up in the mountain traverses, she gazed down to the valley where the afternoon’s sweltering heat was rising. She tugged again at her T-shirt, wondering if it was too tight. Or was it too loose? Or maybe it was too warm for the weather? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good enough.

She was freaking out.

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