Page 10 of Over the Edge

“The file doesn’t tell you everything.” I rubbed my jaw, remembering. “In Singapore, I saw what was left of a woman who crossed him. She was an MI6 agent. Good one, too. He kept her alive for three days before dropping what was left of her in the harbor.”

“Well, I’m not going to cross him. I’m going to smile, flirt, and steal his tech.”

“And I’m going to make sure you get out alive afterward.” I held her gaze, all teasing gone. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Flynn’s presence isn’t up for debate,” Ethan cut in, his tone all badass black ops commander. “You need backup, and with half the team on medical leave, he was the only option.”

“Wow, E. You make me sound like a last resort,” I drawled, placing a hand over my chest in mock offense. “I’m hurt.”

Ethan just glowered at me. The guy carried tension like it was tactical gear. Was it any wonder riling him up had become a personal pastime?

Lyric’s shoulders pulled tighter. “I prepped for a solo op. Now you’re changing the parameters mid-mission with no warning.”

“Parameters change,” Ethan said flatly. “You adapt. That’s part of the job.”

“But—”

“Adapt, Renard,” he said again, cutting her off. “You need someone to watch your six, and Flynn is one of the best. Ex-Ranger. I’m not losing another operative.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I had it under control.”

I tilted my head. “You sure about that?”

She spun on me, full of fury. “Oh, I don’t know,Shepherd,did you see me stumbling through that conversation? Did I look like I needed someone to come in and play knight in shining armor?”

I held up my hands. “Just doin’ what I’m told, darlin’.” I let the drawl roll in heavier this time, just to poke her further. Tipped an invisible hat, too, for good measure.

She made a noise—low, furious, a hiss of sheer exasperation—and turned back to the screen. “I’m not working with him. Send someone else.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “Flynn also has experience with Moreau. He’s tracked his operations across three continents.”

That got her attention. She glanced at me, reassessing. “You’ve worked on Moreau before?”

“Tangentially,” I admitted. “Crossed paths with him in Marrakech two years ago. Again in Singapore last summer. Man’s got a type when it comes to business associates. Ruthless, paranoid, and willing to kill their own mothers for the right price.”

“And what about his personal type?” she asked, and I could practically see those tactical wheels in her head turning. “What does he like in his women?”

“He has two. Vulnerable, needy, and alone. You can imagine what he does to those women. He tends not to keep them long.”

“The other?”

“Beautiful, dangerous, and slightly out of reach.” I let my eyes drift over her, making no effort to hide my appreciation. “You nailed it.”

She inhaled through her nose, slow and controlled. She was trying real hard not to explode as she returned her attention to the screen. “I work alone.”

“Not on this team you don’t,” Ethan said and shot me a penetrating look. “That goes for both of you. While you’re working for me, no lone wolf shit. Understood?”

“Spoilsport,” I muttered, earning another glare from Lyric.

“When you meet Moreau for lunch tomorrow,” Ethan continued, “Flynn will be with you. No exceptions, no arguments.”

The look on Lyric’s face suggested she had plenty of both, but she swallowed them back. Interesting. She might fight me tooth and nail, but she followed orders when they came from the boss. “And when Moreau digs into him?”

“Let him,” I said, stretching lazily. “I can sell whatever story we need.”

She studied me then, and I felt like she could see all the way down to the stuff I didn’t want anyone seeing.

Well, fuck. I didn’t like that one bit.

---