Page 62 of Rogue Mission
The tension of the conversation about the hit man or men, is gone and I’m grateful for the easy way they bounce into a whole different mode.
“What’s that about?” I ask wanting in on the inside joke.
“JT used to?—”
“Shhh!” With a not so friendly snarl Justice cuts Truck off.
And Evan jumps in grinning, rubbing his hands together like this is too good to resist.
“Oh Justice just used to talk about how he had this type and then he would never meet anyone who fit the bill…we figured it was just an excuse to keep us out of his business.”
“Fuck you both,” Justice says chuckling.
He leans in to brush his lips over my ear, sending chills all over my body. “I was just waiting on you. Don’t listen to them. They’re both jackasses and it’s my turn to take the heat. Ryker and I are the only single guys left.”
He nips my ear, and his voice goes huskier. “Or should I say, Ryker is the last man standing. I’m pretty sure I’m off the market.”
“I don’t know. Did we SEAL the deal?” I grin against his warm, safe neck, “Get it, SEAL?”
He chuckles. “I don’t know. You can tell me later if we did.”
Champagne bubble of pleasure fill me up from toes to heart. “Do you want someone to bake cookies for you? Because I’d learn.”
“Ohhh.” Truck laughs. “You’re so fucked, dude.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The lights go on as we pull into the safe house.
The place is lit like a stadium. Every kind of security light, motion light, infrared sensor, heat detection system, pressure sensing alarms are in place…you name it, this house has it.
In seconds we’ll be inside. Locked behind a hundred-thousand-dollar security system.
The team will be here.
There’s a safe room.
There’s an armory of weapons and supplies to last for months.
I still won’t rest easy.
Not until the threat against Rosalie is over.
“I’m impressed,” Rosalie murmurs, a look of awe as the blue-white lights reflect in her wide eyes.
For a beat I’m struck by how beautiful she is.
Again.
Every time I get punched in the gut. That’s the power she has on me.
But I react for a different reason when she tenses as another vehicle pulls in beside the SUV we arrived in.
“That’s Marshall,” I reassure her as he kills the engine on the truck, and climbs out.
Wearing his usual grim face, he has a quiet authority in his stride that’s unmistakable.
“Hit the rack, everyone,” he tells us, “JT and Truck, you two are wheels up at zero-four hundred. I’ll have a mission plan ready for you then.”
