Page 6 of Braxton

A second later, she slammed on the brakes. He lost his grip, rolled off the hood and landed hard on his shoulder. Lying on the ground, at eye level with a glowing green light, he frowned. It was a tripwire, and he’d almost crossed it.

Nice try, Quinn.

Scrambling up, he jogged away from the wire. The Explorer stopped at the exit, as though waiting for him. Or maybe she wanted to see him get blown to smithereens. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He was surprised, however, when a loud beep filled the air, signaling his fuck-up. Looking down, Brax saw a second tripwire cleverly concealed in the shadows. And he’d just crossed it.

Fuck.

An explosive detonated frighteningly close, singing his right side, as he launched himself over the concrete wall, flying through the air and landing in an unceremonious heap in the bushes.

Explosion after explosion rocked the structure behind him as Brax shoved through prickly branches. Standing up on wobbly legs, he moved farther away from the burning garage. The Explorer peeled away down the street, disappearing from sight.

Releasing a shaky breath, he looked down at his burned right hand. He knew he was lucky to be alive. That had been far too close. Turning back around, he watched the orange and red flames lick upward, glowing against the black sky. Inside the garage, another explosion ricocheted off the walls.

Cradling his burned hand, Braxton cursed his ex-wife.

Quinn Graves was going down.

Chapter Three

Brax pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like he was in the midst of the Spanish Inquisition. Inda, along with Lucas, Zane and River, the team’s hackers, had been questioning him for two hours straight about his former relationship with Quinn while they set up searches and dug deep online for intel. Even though it was only eleven in the morning, he felt drained and a part of him wanted to crawl back into bed. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to wake up later and realize his encounter with his ex had been nothing more than a nightmare.

Pushing up out of the armchair, he knew he had to get out of there and clear his head or he’d go nuts. Because that’s what Quinn did to him—made him lose his mind a little.

“I’m going for a walk,” he announced.

“What if we have more questions?” Zane looked up from his laptop and frowned.

“Let him go,” Inda murmured, and Brax sent her a grateful look. For fuck’s sake, he’d barely escaped getting blown to bits by his ex-wife, the only woman he’d ever loved. He needed to process his feelings and decide how he was going to deal with her.

Because if Quinn worked for The Agency, she would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

The idea of hurting her made his gut churn. A fact which pissed him off since he owed her nothing. She was the one who left him and disappeared without a trace.

Grabbing his jacket and phone, Braxton stalked out the door. The shock of running into Quinn and then her trying to kill him made his burned hand throb even more. He’d popped a couple of Tylenol, but they weren’t helping. He needed answers more than anything.

He needed to talk to Quinn.

But how? The woman was a highly-trained, former CIA agent. He knew she wanted him to know it was her last night. Just as much as he knew if she wanted to disappear, she would. Hell, he knew that better than anyone.

Mind spinning, he retraced his steps to the scene of the crime. Stopping halfway up the block, Brax propped his shoulder against a tree and stared at the charred remains of the parking garage which was now roped off with police tape.

She’d meant for him to die.

He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to shut down any lingering loyalties or feelings he had for that toxic succubus. Pulling in a deep breath, he knew she was a huge problem that needed to be dealt with ASAP.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Why couldn’t she have just stayed hidden, far off the grid and out of his life? Because that little stunt she pulled last night? It was a declaration of war. And Brax never backed down from a fight.

He’d been a goddamn Delta Force commander, renowned for his calm coolness under pressure. Normally, he could turnoff his emotions and focus on the task at hand. But she alone had the infuriating power to rattle him like no one else. It was ironic, too, considering they’d only been together for three months. He’d had a longer relationship with the bottle of ketchup in his fridge.

So why the fuck did this one woman still get under his skin?

It had been five years since she’d left him. At the time, he’d never been so confused…until he’d been called in and interrogated like a suspected terrorist.

Quinn had been accused of selling military secrets to a foreign enemy, secrets everyone assumed she got from him. His entire world had turned upside down and his superiors had suspended him. Alone, without the woman and job he loved, he’d had plenty of time to think.

Eventually he’d been rightfully cleared of any charges. The evidence had pointed to her alone, but he looked like a fool. And he’d kept returning to the same conclusion—Quinn had used him then fled before she could be caught and brought to justice.

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