Page 3 of Secret Mission

“Goddamn, between the heat, the rain, and these fucking caves, Vandemora is pissing me off.”

Justice straps his watch over his wetsuit sleeve, his gaze fixed on the murky pool of water at the cave’s mouth. “Have I ever told you I hate caves? I wish we’d have found her bag and passport on top of a mountain.”

“I just hope someone stole her personal items and dropped them there and she’s not really in one of these caves. But those shoes…” I don’t even finish my thought.

My insides are twisted too tight, burning with a gnawing concern that goes way beyond any mission I’ve ever been on. “We should have found her by now. It’s like we’re a bunch of rookies—not a team of top-notch SEALs.”

The rattle of raindrops on my hood is loud enough to drown out the rest of the team’s conversation.

Letting my mind rove over the case, to her—always to her—I turn to scan the mountainous terrain, watching the trenches of water flowing more and more as the storm builds.

Wait.

My focus boomerangs back to something dark—a shape that’s foreign in color and outline in the Vandemoran jungle.

By the time my vision has adjusted, my chest is spasming.

A single glance destroys me.

“What the fuck am I seeing right now?”

Either my imagination has gone rogue, or Allison is standing on the hillside watching us. Which makes zero sense.

That shadowy figure shifts, the filtered light playing across a pale, worried face that may as well be etched in my heart.

A large, solid hand connects with my back. Shoving me forward.

“Go get her.”

Beast’s growled command lodges inside my ears, fighting with the sound of my thudding heart.

“Copy. On it.”

Chapter Two

Nothing ever fully prepares you to come face to face with a person you’ve been hunting—especially whentheycome looking for you.

Or specifically when the object of your infatuation appears out of nowhere.

And you’re fucked up on the inside like a burned-out building.

I’m vaguely aware that there’s pain radiating from behind my sternum. A wound that will never heal.

Any doctor would probably be alarmed at the intensity of the squeezing crush, but I know I’m already dead inside, so there’s nothing left to break in that particular cavity.

I should move but I’m glued in place.

A disconnect between my brain and my feet. A sizable distance at my six-foot-six inch height.

“Allison?”

Shit, I sound like I feel. Hollow and wrecked.

My long strides cover the ground with some momentum once I get on a roll. But I’m fully aware that even though this woman is a stranger, I’m walking toward the thing that could put me in the grave. Again. This time maybe for good.

Like an apparition in the rain, she folds her arms over her frame—her too-thin frame—watching me warily as the downpour soaks us both.

I’m reminded of a deer, all delicate and nervous with luminous oversized eyes.

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