Page 3 of Braxton

“What’s a Tamato?” Gray asked.

“Not tomato, Tamada,” Zane corrected, and they all laughed. “The designated master of ceremonies. And the first item on the agenda is a toast for the new couple.”

“Cuz we haven’t done any of those yet,” Harper added with a hiccup.

Zane lifted his glass of vodka—at some point they’d opened a second bottle—and everyone followed suit.

“Okay, please make do with my shaky Russian,” Zane said and smirked.

“You’ve got this,” Saint encouraged him. “Besides, no one understands but me and River.”

“True! Okay, you guys remember what to do?” Zane asked, and there were nods all around. “Za-Molodykh! For the newlyweds!”

“Gor’ko!” Everyone shouted.

Saint burst out laughing then turned to his bride. “They just protested that the wine—er, vodka—is bitter. To sweeten it, we need to kiss for as long as possible.”

“I think that can be arranged,” she murmured.

“And if they don’t kiss long enough, we can demand they do it again,” Zane added mischievously.

Saint caught Mia’s lips in a heated kiss and, yeah, they didn’t need to demand anything. The kiss lasted far longer thananything Brax had ever seen. With a chuckle, he wandered back over to the island, set the vodka down and picked up the whiskey again. It was his drink of choice and went down in a smooth burn that he liked to savor.

Once he refilled his glass, he found a comfortable chair at the edge of the action and watched the party from afar. River’s furry feline made a beeline for him, jumped up and perched on the arm of the chair. The cat always seemed to find him. Brax absently stroked a hand down Neo’s back, eliciting loud purrs. It had been a long time since he’d had a pet and he’d forgotten the comfort they could provide. Maybe one day.

The cat began curling his claws into the chair’s fabric and Brax sighed. He’d definitely get a dog.

Zane kept the group highly entertained with jokes and games, and everyone offered toast after toast. They brought the food out not long after and dug into a feast Inda had prepared. The girls had even baked a wedding cake. Considering how tipsy everyone was, it was a good thing. They needed some food to soak up all the alcohol.

They deserve this, though, Brax thought. After months of fighting The Agency, his team needed to let off some steam and have a good time. There were still unanswered questions—like why the hell his name was on the list Zane and River had decrypted—but Brax knew they’d figure everything out. They didn’t have an option.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, checking the screen. Unknown. Curious, he opened the message:I have intel for you.

Frowning, he sat up straighter. The message on his personal phone—a number no one else but his team should have—caught his attention.

He texted back:Who is this?

Three little bubbles appeared. Disappeared.

“C’mon,” he whispered. Brax hated games, and whoever this person was, he or she was playing a dangerous one. Just as he was about to set the phone down, it buzzed again. He stabbed the screen and opened the message:222 Elm Street.

That was it. Just a nearby address. Brax considered his options: take a teammate with him and go check it out. Or, ignore the message.

His gaze wandered over to his drunken crew. Zane was attempting to speak Russian, clearly blitzed, River hanging around his neck and correcting him. She was fluent. No-go there. Inda and Lucas were feeding each other wedding cake. Well, mostly smashing it in each other’s faces then licking it off one another. He couldn’t bother the groom, who seemed to have disappeared with his new bride anyway. Same for Ryland and Harper, who were always the first to head back to their apartment. Gray seemed like the obvious choice until Brax saw him on his hands and knees, acting like a horse, Aubrey sitting on his back yelling, “Giddyup!”

Brax shook his head. Everyone was in fucking love and three sheets to the wind.

“I’d be better off bringing you,” he murmured to Neo.

Pushing up out of the chair, he swallowed back the rest of his whiskey and set the glass down. Then he went to grab hisGlock. Most likely the lead was bullshit, nothing more than a hoax. But Brax was thorough—in every aspect of his life—so he decided to check it out. Besides, he needed some fresh air to clear his head.

Chapter Two

After setting up the trap, Quinn took a moment to go over the details, making sure she didn’t miss anything. She was thorough like that. She’d hidden blocks of explosives in each corner of the parking garage. And laser tripwires, barely visible to the naked eye, extended strategically throughout the space. If anyone crossed one, whichever side was nearest would blow sky high. Now all she had to do was hide and wait for her marks to enter the garage. If she was lucky, she could take out more than one of Ex Nihilo at once.

Two birds, one stone.

Eventually, she’d eliminate them all. It’s what she’d been hired to do and The Agency had just deposited half her fee in an unmarked account in the Cayman Islands. Quinn’s services weren’t cheap, but you got what you paid for.

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