Mary made the rash decision to wait for Dylan outside his room. She wanted alone time with him, and if she was completely honest, she didn’t want to be in her room, alone with her thoughts. Then again, if she surfaced anywhere around her room, she’d get hauled up to the main house for whatever craziness was going on for “girl’s night.”

She was too tired. Sleep was all she craved.

No, she craved Dylan Mason.

As if summoned from her thoughts, he turned the corner. One of the Mason panty-melting grins flashed across his face. He closed the distance quickly, pinning her against the door to his room with one arm at each side of her.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“Maybe. I heard there’s a banging girl’s night up at the main house,” she retorted.

“I figured you’d be there.”

“I...” Ugh, just spit it out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I figured I’d crash here, if that’s okay.”

The floor had two hundred and twelve intersecting lines in the tiles outside Dylan’s door. She’d counted. Twice. A third time wouldn’t hurt. She averted her gaze and got to work. Dragons soared in her belly, spewing their fiery angst in a warm cascade of heat that fanned outward.

Dylan ran a thumb down her cheek and tilted her face up. “Why are you nervous, sweetheart?”

“I just stalked you. I waited outside your door so I could connive my way into your bed and sleep with you. A girl’s entitled to be nervous after doing that.”

He cupped her face and feathered a light kiss across her lips. Warmth drifted in her blood, flowed beneath her skin wherever he touched. A moan escaped her when he deepened the contact. She ran her fingers through his hair and followed his lead, drawing what she wanted from the kiss.

The door beeped open as he drew her flush against him with a firm hand at her lower back. He severed the kiss and glanced at the door, tension cording his body. He reached for his sidearm, but she grabbed his arm.

“I’m thinking we’re the intense entertainment of the girl’s night right about now.” She pointed at the small camera barely visible in the far corner. “HERA has access to everyone’s doors since their entry is secured via bioscanning and numerical interface.”

“You’re sexy when you whisper geek,” he replied. The husky voice slid through her like a shot of warm whiskey. “You want to head inside, or should I give them something good before we do?”

“Something good?” she asked, wetting her lips as a list of possibilities appeared in her kiss-hazy mind.

She yelped as he lifted her up and pinned her to the wall. Dylan’s mouth claimed hers, the kiss so deep and carnal it left nothing to the imagination. Both hands on her waist, he settled her down on the prominent bulge in his jeans. If she rubbed just right, it pushed against her achy center. They remained lip-locked, her legs around his waist and back against the wall a long while. The kiss turned gentle, teasing. She laughed when he groaned and settled his face near the crook of her neck.

“Jesus, you taste good.”

“You’re pretty tasty yourself,” she returned.

“For the record, this is a safe harbor for you, Mary. I don’t ever want to see you nervous and twitchy about being here, anywhere you know is mine. You’ll always be welcome, no matter what.” His turbulent gaze darkened. “I’ve got a lot I want to say, but I’m thinking they can hear every word.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her toes curling in her sandals. “You should probably put me down. I’m heavy.”

“You talk like that about yourself again, and I’m going to haul that sexy ass across my lap and spank you,” he threatened.

Anticipation quickened her pulse as a shiver rippled through her. She wet her lips and studied him a moment. Was he serious?

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “When this mess is over, we’ll have a chat about that. I’m thinking you like to play.”

“I haven’t ever...” She placed a hand on his shoulder and squirmed against him. “I’d be okay with a little play. With you.”

“Then we’ll talk about it when we’ve gotten far enough into whatever this is between you and me where I think we’re ready. Okay?”

“Whatever this is between you and me?” she repeated.

“Yeah. I know neither of us were thinking we wanted something right now, but I’ve gotta admit you’ve crawled under my skin. You aren’t shaking me loose easily.”

“They just heard you,” Mary stage whispered. Shock resonated in her, like a flash bang in a really small room.

What the hell was Dylan Mason saying? And why?

“Why?” she demanded.

“I’m okay with your girls hearing my intentions ’cause they’ve got your back. But the why’s going to wait until you’re rested up enough for us to explore the why in detail. Repeatedly.” The gleam in his gaze darkened. He stroked her cheek. “You’re exhausted. All I want tonight is you in my arms, sleeping. We’ve got a mission in the pipe tomorrow. I want you well rested and ready.”

“Can I sleep in your shirt again?” she whispered softly in his ear. “I liked pretending I was one of those girls, the ones who got to wear her man’s clothes.”

“I like that,” he admitted. “We aren’t ready yet, but I like where your mind goes.”

“I can’t believe that just came out.” Heat rose in her face as she laughed. “God, I can’t think around you, Dylan Mason. You turn my brain into gray goo.”

“I’m thinking that’s the lack of sleep.” He kissed her lips and gently slid her down the wall. “Come on, let’s get you toothbrushed and changed into my shirt. Tomorrow night, you’re mine, sweetheart. If we get back from SA soon enough, I’m taking you out, then we’re picking up this show and tell, without the show. You okay with that?”

Yeah, yeah she totally was.

He led her into the room and sealed them in, away from the no doubt entertained, drunken mass of BFFs in the main house. She got first run in the bathroom and made quick work of changing into the shirt and shorts from last night. She admired her well-kissed lips a while in the mirror, then realized in horror she kind of resembled the troll again. She really should find a beauty parlor, somewhere to tame the mass of hair that just sort of sprung out of her head like wild roots nesting in pig shit.

Toothbrushed and with finger-tamed hair, she settled into her side of the bed and waited in the silence as Dylan took his turn. The domestic, routine actions made her pulse quicken as she recalled his words from the hallway. He didn’t think they were ready for the whole he was her man thing. Yeah, they hadn’t known each other long and they hadn’t even done it yet.

Ugh. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She’d shot her mouth off way too early.

The bed shifted with his weight as he settled in behind her. Awareness beaded along her skin as he drew her into his warm, firm embrace. “You comfortable?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. More than she’d ever been.

“You’ve had a rough day,” he whispered in her ear. “What you did in there, for Jesse.”

She swallowed the emotion lodged in her throat. “He needed to hear it’d help.”

“Yeah, he needed to hear it’d help,” he repeated. “He’s been drowning a while. He’s talked with us some, but not enough. He disarmed you with the question. He shot center mass in a room with everyone listening. I’m sorry. That’s Jesse.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. It isn’t. He didn’t think about how invasive the answer would get or he wouldn’t have gone there, not with your girls right there. With six siblings, we checked our privacy at the door at birth. Family’s close. We forget not everyone’s like that.”

“It’s okay, Dylan. I’m glad he asked. I hope my answer helped. I couldn’t lie. It wasn’t easy.”

“He knew you’d shoot straight.” Dylan’s voice softened against her neck. “Whenever you need to talk, I’m here. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”

“Did he hurt you? Your stepbrother?”

“No. He tried a couple times, but I wasn’t his type.”

“He still in your life? Your parents, are they?”

“No. I testified against him a few days before I left for MIT. My parents never forgave me. I haven’t spoken to them since, but I was okay with a clean break. It helped me focus on what mattered. My education. My job.”

“I’m sorry they made you feel like you didn’t matter, because you do. I’m not going to rest easy until I’ve made sure you know.” Dylan kissed her throat. “Get some rest. We’ll start getting some answers in the morning. We’re closing in.”

THE CELL PHONE BUZZED, rattling its way across the dashboard of the truck as it growled its way into San Antonio. Dylan glanced at the console and stifled the curse in his throat. She’d woken up earlier than he expected. He glared over at Dallas, who chuckled.

Sanderson and Graves even chuckled from the backseat. Traffic on Interstate 35 was too thick as they headed toward the uglier part of downtown San Antonio, the area tourists rarely saw. He glared at his brother and flicked the button on the steering wheel. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Don’t hey sweetheart me. Where the hell are you?”

“We’re almost there, ETA five minutes. We’ll phone in when we’re situated so you can run point.”

“I’m thinking you forgot something when you headed out this morning,” she whispered, calm overriding the anger punctuating her words.

“I’m thinking I didn’t. Give me this play, Mary. I need you safe.” He looked out at the thickening traffic. “Leave the field to me. I’d rather you be there where you can do the most good.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse, Dylan.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting now, Edge.” He used the nickname to remind her they weren’t alone and what was in play mattered more than the anger in her voice. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

“Oh, we’re going to talk all right.”

Graves laughed.

“This isn’t funny, Fallon,” she spat angrily through the line. “Keep him breathing, or I’ll take it out on you.”

“I’ve got his six, Edge. We all do. Leave your man be. It was the right call, and you damn well know it. You’ve said so yourself a hundred times. You’re shit in the field. He’s not blunt enough to say it, likely cause you taste as sweet as I suspect, but you’re a liability outside operations.”

Dylan growled and glared at the man through the rearview mirror. He didn’t need to be thinking about how sweet Mary tasted. But he’d called him her man, so that settled the need to kick the bastard’s ass. For now.

“You’ll be back for dinner tonight, right?” Her voice was soft, sweet. Shy.

“Yeah, sweetheart, we’re still on for tonight. I’ll talk to you soon. Traffic’s thick, so it’ll take us longer to arrive at the site than I expected.”

“I know, I see you. A semi’s overturned two miles up. If you take the next exit, you can bypass and go down Commerce. Do you want me to send an alternate route?” she asked.

He glanced at the alternate route he’d already programmed in and grinned. “Yeah, that’d be good. Talk to you soon.”

“Okay, Dylan.”

He clicked off and waited for whichever fucker in the truck was brave enough to give him shit. The fear in her voice damn near gutted him. He’d crawled in deep enough with her to bring out the woman she buried beneath her persona, Edge. Graves was right. She would’ve been a liability, but only because he’d do anything to keep her safe, including leave the other team members to their own devices if she needed him at her side. If she were more trained, more confident in the field, he’d have no issues working alongside her.

He’d talk with Addy, find out what training Mary went through at Hive. Maybe she could work with her. He’d do the same. He’d hated crawling out of their bed and leaving her behind, especially since he knew it was important to her to be there today.

He’d steered clear of relationships in the past because the lifestyle didn’t lend itself to quiet evenings alone and romantic shit. But Mary was in the lifestyle, maybe more so than him. If he wanted whatever the hell they felt for one another, he’d have to define boundaries for them both.

He’d made a judgment call about her coming along, one she clearly didn’t agree with. As he turned the vehicle into a parking garage a few blocks south of their target, he accepted the fallout he’d suffer when he got back. For now, he remained focused on the mission. If Martin Driggs was here and remotely extractable, he was going to make it happen today.

Dallas, Graves, and Sanderson packed enough for a small war. Fine with him.

The trudge up seventeen stories was a pain in the ass, but he’d done worse. The Texas heat turned the interior of the closed building into a microwave oven. Sweat rolled down his back as he lugged gear up to the roof. Graves and Sanderson would stage along the corners, street level while Dallas took position a block over on the target’s other side.

“Bravo One in position,” he mumbled into the headset.

“Don’t forget the new toys, Bravo.” Vi’s voice startled him a moment, then he remembered. Mary always worked with her. The Quillery Edge.

Dylan unshouldered the gear and grabbed the small, black zip bag. He’d gone through three rounds of training with Addy on the gear, then Vi had gone over it twice. He wasn’t a tech savant like Cord, but he figured he could handle this.

The headgear slid into place like a second skin, one he didn’t mind. Lighter than the military night gear, it flashed data in the upper left area near his left eye. Direction. Wind speed. The never-ending scrolls along the side were distracting, but the pattern turned soothing easily enough.

Each member of the team clicked into the line with a slight ding. Their positions appeared in the upper right panel, all green to signal good. He clicked the side button and marked himself the same.

“Okay, we need eagles to scan the upper area of the target coordinates. We have street level established,” Vi said. “From both sides. Edge indicates the building’s age will obstruct depth abilities on this model of gear.”

“Roger.”

A couple moments ticked by as he fiddled with the gear. Hands-on practice was a priority.

“Did you put the wrist band on?” Mary asked over the com.

Shit. He’d known something was missing. He grabbed the thin band and snapped it in place. One push of the red button, and the headgear got to work. Heat signatures appeared. He moved his gaze slowly, allowing the feed enough time to register at headquarters.

“Not to be the fly in the kickass soup, but how do we know if the heat signatures I’m taking aren’t the same ones he is?” Dallas asked.

“HERA’s monitoring depth and field of perception. When the program puts everything together, the final piece will be a stitch of all four views, along with any drones if you’d dispersed any,” Edge replied.

The voice was confident, strong. Definitely Edge, not Mary.

“There’s an open window without any nearby targets on the fourth floor, facing Bravo One,” Quillery replied. “You have six zingers and six sleepers. Recommendation to disperse three of each for the first wave recon, Bravo One.”

Dylan analyzed the intel coming in and was surprised to see there were only four heat signatures, three on ground level and one on the sixth floor. “We have four armed targets. Drone recon is unnecessary, Quillery.”

“Fair enough,” she replied.

“Bravo One, give me this play. Disperse the drones as requested.” Mary’s voice softened to a barely audible whisper over the com. “For my calm.”

Dylan opened the bag and pulled out three, red-tagged drones and three blue. “Dispersing red and blue one through three.”

He pulled out the small remote apparatus and keyed in the numbers on the side of each one into the system. It beeped and the drones rose. He keyed in the coordinates appearing on his headset when he looked at the window. The six baseball-sized machines whirred a moment, then flitted off.

Dylan keyed in the coordinates of the door farthest from the three heat signatures on the bottom level. “Move to position.”

Three beeps rang in his ear as he hauled the gear down the stairs.  Four people didn’t bode well for their chances of finding Driggs. Whoever the bastard who’d snatched Riley up was contacting was likely a middleman. Sanderson and Graves were at the designation position when he arrived. Dallas came down the side alley.

“Drones are scanning the interior, Bravo One,” Quillery said. “Weapons cache on third level, southeast corner. Intel center second floor, northwest corner.”

“Roger, going in.”

Sanderson and Graves had flash bangs at the ready. Dallas popped the lock, and they entered in a tight formation, fanning out. He signaled for Sanderson and Dallas to head up, grab whatever intel they could, and handle the person on the upper floor. He and Graves could handle the other three.

Trash littered the building’s interior. He stepped over heaped food wrappers and beer cans. The headgear flashed yellow, then red as he stepped onto a cardboard box. The quiet snick thundered in his ears.

The readouts went wild. A red light appeared in his status message. He’d been in enough landmines to know it wasn’t an explosive. He’d already be picking bits of bone from his sizzling carcass if it was.

“What the hell?” Graves muttered over the com. He’d headed toward the two targets on the other side of the large floor.

“I heard a click. The headgear went nuts. I don’t know the codes.” Dylan’s pulse pounded in his ears. No other sound registered through the headset. Had they disconnected from headquarters?

Drones circled around him. Two broke off and headed toward where Graves was coming from. Someone had taken control of the little beasts and clustered them all near him.

“Bravo One, you activated a silent alarm. Disperse the remaining drones and take cover. We’re detecting movement from the exterior of the building.”

Quillery’s confident voice calmed his pulse a bit as Graves motioned toward the stairs where Dallas and Sanderson were coming, their packs loaded.

“Data secure,” Dallas said.

“Tap the blue and red buttons on the panel,” Edge ordered.

Dylan did as ordered. Images rolled through his headgear as the drones made their way out the holes in the broken windows and exited the building. Heavily armed targets approached from both ends of the alley.

“The east side of the building is clear. Two options. One. Breech the wall on street level and fight your way out if the noise draws attention.”

“Not an option, Edge,” Graves replied. “Structural integrity is an issue.”

“Then go up. Roof level. Let me know when you’re there.” Mary’s voice lowered. “Vi, get two of the drones to the east side. Scan street level with the others, fanning outward in a cobweb pattern around these sectors. Grid it.”

Dylan hoofed it triple time to the roof. While running from a fight went against his sour mood, they were outgunned. Sanderson busted the door open just as a percussive explosion rattled the railings around them.

“Building is unsecure, Edge,” Graves muttered.

“Roger, head east. You’re base jumping.”

Everyone removed their packs and rifled through their gear. There was no discussion on what she meant. Likely she realized they’d all performed enough jumps to be familiar with the process.

“You’re one hundred eighty seven feet up, so this needs to be a static line.”

“Integrity of the line is a problem,” Sanderson said.

“Let me handle the science,” Mary replied. “Each of you snag one of the flying drones—doesn’t matter which one—to the line once it’s secured to the building. Jump at will. Sooner is better. They’re almost to you.”

Dylan didn’t ask why they were attaching drones to their line. If Mary wanted them on, he’d put them on. Dallas gathered the rest of the ones left and tossed them into his bag. With a brief glance at his team and a final look back at the lines they’d secured to a metal hand railing a few yards away, he jumped.

Skydiving was a favorite activity of his. Base jumping...not so much. Static base jumps? It was like shoving your nuts into a blender and pushing the mush button. The landing jarred the hell out of you. Landing on concrete would likely crack a few bones.

An upward lift sensation startled him seconds before he landed on the hard concreted sidewalk. Cars blared their horns as they slowed. He turned to the side and noted an upward lift in Grant’s movement as the massive soldier plummeted to the ground.

The drones slowed the fall somehow. Jesus. What those five women couldn’t do. Riley had called them the Pentagon the first night they’d gotten drunk together. As far as Dylan was concerned, put together, the women were unstoppable, way more powerful than the real Pentagon and its red tape.

He hauled ass around the corner as gunfire ricocheted around them. Drones whizzed and whirred around them. He followed the darting machines, weapon drawn but to his side.

The streets were somewhat abandoned compared to the typical urban warfare they experienced in other countries. A few people dodged them with fearful screams, but Dylan and his team didn’t stop.

“Left is the vehicle, but you should be good to go right and make a detour. I found Driggs,” Mary commented.

He and the men turned right. The drones whirred overhead and darted into a building, a rickety motel where customers probably paid by the hour. Talk about the ratty side of San Antonio.

Dylan halted the team at the entry and pushed the scan button on the headgear. Graves and Dallas angled down the right corridor of the two-story building while he and Sanderson went left.

“There’s a hallway at the end of both corridors. He’s upstairs, room 204, facing the building you were in.”

The trap.

“Recommend drone countermeasures prior to engagement to ensure he doesn’t get away. Drone recon indicates two armed targets at the upper level of both stairwells,” Mary said.

The two men were exactly where she said and fell easily.

“Drone countermeasures? Mind speaking English for us field grunts?” Sanderson asked.

“Send a blue drone in and press the yellow button on the controls. Wait until it returns to you. Unless something goes wrong, he’ll go down, and you can haul his mangy ass out,” Vi explained.

“On it,” Dallas muttered.

Dylan and Graves took position on one side of the entry, with Dallas and Sanderson on the other. Driggs wasn’t getting away. The drone returned sooner than he expected.

“I’m really liking these little guys,” Dallas commented. “I think I’m in love.”

Dylan and Graves entered while Dallas and Sanderson maintained protective detail outside. The hotel room was gutted, no furniture in sight except a table in the far corner. Driggs was hunched forward near the window.

“It’d be real sweet if you figured out how we could haul dead weight around without carrying them,” Graves commented.

“We’ll add that to the list,” Vi commented dryly. “Exfil route for the runner sent to you and Sanderson, Bravo One.”

“On it,” Sanderson muttered as he headed out to grab the truck.

“The drug lasts for about twenty minutes. Once you get him in the truck, you might want to hit him once on the orange setting. That’ll keep him down until you return,” Mary offered.

“Roger,” Dylan replied. “Great job, Edge. Now sit back and relax. We’ve got this under control.”

“We don’t relax until you’re home, Bravo. That’s our job. Getting you back.”