Page 39 of Over the Edge

“Stand by,” Ethan said, his voice tight with suppressed fury.

Lyric shot me a look that could have melted steel. “I told you to wait.”

I shrugged. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Not with Grim,” she hissed, pressing deeper into the shadows as a guard passed nearby.

Before I could respond, Ethan’s voice cut back in. “What exactly are we looking at, F?”

I scanned the facility, cataloging what I could see. “Multiple shipping containers, uniformly arranged. Military-grade security. At least eight armed guards that I can see, probably more we can’t. Vidal’s giving a tour to what looks like Chinese buyers.”

“Chinese military intelligence,” Lyric corrected. “I recognized the guy on the left from a previous job. His name is Wei Zhao. Deep cover MSS agent who specializes in weapons procurement.”

I pulled out my monocular and watched the men move toward a container labeled with nothing but a barcode. “I haven’t had the pleasure of tangoing with China’s version of the CIA before.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” Lyric said dryly.

“Can you identify what they’re examining?” Ethan asked, his tone shifting from anger to focused, intense team leader.

I adjusted my position slightly, trying to get a better view without exposing myself. The Chinese agents were hovering over what looked like a glass display case, Vidal gesturing proudly at whatever lay inside.

“Negative. Too far away,” I replied. “So what’s the play here? We’ve got eyes on multiple weapon systems, but no confirmation on Sentinel’s location.”

A pause. Then Ethan’s measured response: “Sabotage what you can and get the hell out of there. I’ll send Maverick to scoop you up.”

“Might get hot.”

“Mav can handle it.”

“Copy that,” I murmured, watching as Vidal guided the Chinese agents to the next container. “We’ll need twenty minutes.”

“You’ve got fifteen,” Ethan replied. “Radio with your exfil. Maverick will be waiting.”

I switched off the radio and turned to Lyric. “Time to get creative.”

“Wait. If we try something here, we’re as good as dead.” She put a hand on my arm to stop me from moving and moved closer so that her lips were directly by my ear. It sent heat straight to my cock and took me back to the the hotel room.

“Look.” She pointed in the opposite direction from Vidal and the Chinese agents. The hangar doors were open, and men were loading the crates into a truck. “If we follow it, we might be able to find out the auction’s location.”

“It’s not on the invite?”

“No. We’re supposed to meet Moreau Friday at the docks.”

I exhaled a breath. “So it’s probably happening on a fucking island. The truck will just take us to Moreau’s yacht.”

“Exactly.” Lyric’s breath on my ear was torture.

I wanted her mouth back on mine.

Hell, I wanted her everywhere.

“They’re going to hold the auction on international waters,” she whispered, “where it’s beyond most countries’ jurisdiction. We follow, we watch. Then we can plan a proper assault instead of improvising in a hangar full of armed guards.”

I watched the men loading the truck. They were working methodically, moving crates according to some system I couldn’t quite figure out. But one thing was clear—they were only taking certain containers, leaving others behind. “Grim wants us to sabotage what we can here and bail.”

“And I want to complete this mission without getting shot.” She shifted beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “We might learn more than we would by blowing things up here and risking exposure.”

She had a point. “Fine,” I conceded. “But those containers can’t make it to their destination.”

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