Page 23 of Braxton

“I have yours, too.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it after what I did.” She pressed her lips together, guilt pressing down and making it harder to breathe. And certainly making it harder to look into his beautiful molten-silver eyes. “I’m sorry for almost killing you.” She gave him a sheepish, half-smile.

“What stopped you? I mean, you had it all set up and I walked right into your trap.”

She released a soft sigh. “My conscience decided to remind me about Afghanistan.”

“The IED.”

She nodded. “I figured I owed you one.”

“I appreciate your generosity.” Although his tone was dry, he didn’t seem angry.

“How’s the burn?”

He lifted his other hand which was still bandaged. “Much better. I probably don’t need to wrap it anymore.”

It had been so long since they’d been able to talk so freely and openly with each other. And she really, really liked it. It felt like they were heading in a new, positive direction. One where they could be allies instead of enemies.

A few minutes later, Hunter announced they were at cruising altitude and could move around the plane. Brax released her hand and she instantly missed its secure warmth.

“We need to lock down a plan,” he said, unbuckling his lap belt. Pushing up out of the seat, she watched as he addressed his team, shifted into the amazing, competent, fearless leader she’d always known him to be.

???

By the time they arrived in Miami, Brax made sure Plans A, B and C were all in place and ready to execute. He’d always been thorough like that. No matter what he did, his goal was to succeed, and sometimes that meant adapting to a new situation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to successfully apply that theory to his marriage which had crashed and burned within three months.

Today, however, he expected to defeat Alvaro Mesa.

After saying goodbye to Hunter and Zane—who would be running things from the plane, along with River and Lucas back in San Francisco—the team separated. They climbed into two waiting SUVs prearranged by Inda, and drove to a safehouse provided by Dash Slater. The man had secure hideouts all over the world and Brax was grateful for his generosity. Although they’d both been members of Delta Force, they’d only met in passing and never done an op together since they were each always leading a team. Slater had quite the reputation as a badass and it came with Brax’s full respect.

Once they arrived at the safehouse, Quinn and Inda disappeared into one of the bedrooms to get her ready whileBrax, Gray, Ryland and Saint started emptying their duffel bags and getting equipment organized.

Plan A involved Quinn slipping into Onyx, Mesa’s new nightclub, and keeping tabs on the cartel leader from a distance while Brax and his team got into position outside. He and the men would surround the club, monitoring the entrance and exit points. Inda was their getaway driver and Quinn’s job was to alert everyone which door Mesa would eventually exit.

Then whoever had the shot would deliver a bullet to Mesa’s head.

Gray hoped to be the one to take the shot, and Brax couldn’t blame him. They were approaching the two year anniversary of the ambush of Gray’s SEAL team. Mesa had given the order for his men to kill the SEALs, and it was a miracle Gray had survived. He’d been the only one to escape with his life, battling severe survivor’s guilt until he’d met Aubrey, who’d helped him heal.

Aubrey wasn’t happy about Gray having to deal with Mesa again, but she knew he wanted—needed—closure. Even so, she was most likely a nervous wreck back in SF while she waited for an update.

Brax checked over his weapons and was just placing a small comms unit in his ear when the bedroom door opened and the women walked out. He froze, eyes glued to Quinn who wore a very short, skintight black dress baring one smooth shoulder, and sky-high platform heels. A long ebony wig cascaded past her shoulders and his dick twitched in response.

“You might want to close your mouth,” Saint murmured beside him, slipping an extra cartridge in a pocket of his cargo pants.

“And don’t forget to wipe away the drool,” Ryland added, smothering a laugh.

Fuckers.Braxton snapped his mouth closed and frowned. Why was she dressed so damn sexy? Her job was to stay in the shadows and update him and the team on Mesa’s movements, not seduce the asshole.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, stalking across the room. “What’re you wearing?”

“A black wig,” she answered, looking surprised by his question.

“I’m not talking about the wig,” he growled, feeling a surge of protectiveness, eyes lowering to her full, pushed-up breasts. Or, maybe what he was experiencing was just good, old-fashioned jealousy with a side of possessiveness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked down and pulled the neckline lower, showing more cleavage.

Brax clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to reach over and yank it back up.

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