Hicks fumed as he sped back toward the compound outside of town, pointedly ignoring the vixen in his front seat as she crossed and uncrossed her legs. That short deep red dress she’d slipped on fit her like a second skin, and he couldn’t help but notice her tight nipples pressing against the fabric, straining to get out. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Whether that had been intentional or not, he didn’t know, but it was about to drive him fucking insane.

How could he be attracted to her now, knowing that she wasn’t some innocent victim of a B&E? She was obviously a high-class call girl who’d pissed off a client.

He gripped the wheel, grinding his palms around the supple leather when he felt the material give a little under his tight squeeze. No need to destroy the beautiful car.

Fact was, he should’ve recognized Whitney for what she was the moment he laid eyes on her. Every step, every sigh, every move had been practiced. She was a trained seductress.

And he was smart enough to know better.

He just hadn’t expected a woman like Dr. Melissa Averton, who was all lab coats and glasses to have a sister like this. Unbidden, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Almost as if she’d been waiting for a sign, she leaned across the tiny middle compartment. He could smell her spicy scent and feel it on his skin, invading his pores.

Whitney’s nails traced the line of muscle down his forearm, and Hicks’s fists instinctively clenched. A splash of cold awareness hit him—she was still playing him—but it wasn’t enough cold to make his cock go soft in his pants.

He moved his free arm to the steering wheel. It was cowardly, he knew, but he wanted her to stop touching him. He couldn’t think straight with her so near.

Without his enhanced hearing, he might’ve missed her small but sharp intake of breath. She kept her face the same—lips curled in a catlike smirk as if his action hadn’t affected her in the least. He knew it had, and dammit, part of him wanted to apologize.

He floored it, needing to unload her on Dr. Averton as soon as possible.

“So, where exactly does my auspicious sister live? I’m having a hard time believing she willingly moved out to the country.” She stared at her nails, which were painted a simple and elegant nude. Somehow, he pictured them painted bright red, a bold and daring color to match her personality.

“She lives in the compound.”

“Compound? As in concrete bunkers and barbed wire? I don’t do bunk beds, soldier.”

Hicks gnashed his teeth together. Of course, she didn’t do compounds—she probably didn’t sleep on anything less extravagant than 1000-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. “Somehow, I expected that.”

Why was he baiting her? Why couldn’t he just shut her out, deliver her to her sister, and forget about her? This adventure he’d set out on, the one he’d thought would be such a great excuse to get out of the compound and get some action, had turned completely sour. Now, he longed for the action of his SOCOM video game. Next time he’d know to keep his happy ass at home.

“Good, then you’ll know not to waste your time trying to put your hands on me again,” she said, just as snarky as before.

She said it as though his touch had been unwelcome. “Don’t worry; you’re not my type.”

“Keep telling yourself that, soldier. We both know that’s a lie.” She reached up and traced her bottom lip with her nail, drawing his gaze to that still swollen part of her body. Swollen from his hungry kisses. Oh, she was his type all right. Curvy in all the right places, not some stick-figure Barbie doll that needed to be put up on a shelf and admired from afar. He could handle her without caution.

Hicks ground his fists around the steering wheel, no longer caring about the leather. The dim glow of the compound’s lights appeared in the distance. He checked his speed, 130, that was barely a test of this baby’s horsepower. He accelerated, pushing 150. There was no one out, no chance he’d get stopped.

Maybe Diggs would take her off his hands. His teammate had a thing for brunettes. Plus, he was just as hungry for action as Hicks had been before going on this mission. He’d probably jump at the chance to entertain Whitney.

He rounded a sharp curve to the left way too damn fast, but he didn’t care. They were almost to the entrance of the compound, and he could taste his freedom. At the gate, Hicks downshifted, braked hard and slid into the driveway.

Whitney shrieked and grabbed onto the door handle.

A childish move, yes, but well worth the reward of throwing her off.

He lowered the window, poked his head out so that King could see his face, and then punched in the code. The massive reinforced wrought iron gate slid open, and he pulled through, guiding the car down the dimly lit driveway leading up to the mansion. Thick evergreen trees lined either side of the drive, forming natural barricades. Anyone who thought to assault the team wouldn’t be able to drive an off-road vehicle into the heavily intertwined trees and vines.

Finally, they broke into the clearing, and Whitney let out a low whistle. “I thought you said this was a compound.”

“I did.” He pulled past the beautifully manicured lawns and fountains and gardens, which were only maintained due to Caroline and Melissa’s quick thinking. They hadn’t been able to risk showing their faces in public, not even Caroline’s. So, the two women had developed a disguise for Melissa and a damn good one at that. They’d been able to hire a grounds keeper under the guise of being a crazy old cat lady who lived out in the country. And thanks to King’s superior work on the tech side of things, Mrs. Elizabeth Arnett Smithsonian had a convincing paper trail.

“My sister has always had money, but not like this… Who did she hook up with to get this kind of pad?”

It took Hicks a minute to digest her words. Melissa Averton hooking up with a rich man just to score real estate? The thought was as ludicrous as the idea of the good doctor borrowing her sister’s sexy wrap dress. Which she'd no doubt worn with the express interest of charming the wallet out of some man. The thought irritated the hell out of him. “Your sister is an honorable woman who’s dedicated her life to helping others.” He pulled around the side of the mansion and parked in the enormous enclosed garage, next to a brand spanking new Humvee. He killed the ignition and opened the door, but just before he got out, he added, “Something I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.”

Hicks slammed the door and walked across the garage—actually, it was more like running, but he needed to get the hell out of that car.

There was a five-second lag before he heard her door click open and her heels hit the concrete floor. He wanted to look back, but he forced himself to keep walking toward the large metal door at the back of the mansion. He entered the ten-digit passcode into the panel next to it and the door slid open. As much as he wanted to stride through the mansion and pretend like she wasn’t behind him, he had to at least wait for her to get inside, otherwise, she’d be locked out.

He stuck his foot on the bottom of the door, keeping it open as he turned to face her. Whitney picked her way through the high-end vehicles filling up the five-thousand square-foot garage. She let her fingers trail seductively over the Viper, caressing its curves with appreciation. Blood rushed to his groin as he instantly imagined her touching him like that.

He was about to break out in a cold sweat if she didn’t hurry. Sounds from the interior of the mansion drifted out toward him. His team was gathered in the kitchen. He could be free of her in a minute, maybe two. If she would hurry up and stop walking like she was on a catwalk in the middle of a damn Victoria’s Secret fashion show. “Any day, Princess.”

She pretended like she hadn’t heard him and continued at the same pace as before. Jesus Christ, it was taking every ounce of control he had not to haul ass into that garage, toss her over his shoulder, and dump her onto the kitchen floor. He needed a very, very cold shower.

“You can’t rush appreciation for something like this.” She swept out an arm, indicating the classic Rolls Royce. She folded herself over the side of the open convertible to steal a touch of the plush maroon leather inside, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t tear his gaze off her lush ass. Dear Lord, no matter how calculated and manipulative she was on the inside, on the outside, she was pure perfection. “You can make love to the cars later; your sister is waiting. And I got shit to do, so, if you don’t mind…”

She let out a long sigh and arched her back until she stood fully erect. She made her way across the distance separating them, her lips curled knowingly, and her scent hit him like a ton of bricks as she passed through the open doorway. The cat rushed in behind her and disappeared down the hall.

He slammed the door too hard behind her and stomped toward the kitchen. For some reason, he felt like she’d betrayed him in some way. But when he thought back to the previous hours, he realized Whitney hadn’t acted out of character once—he’d simply spun her up in his mind as some innocent in need of rescue. Her beauty blindsided him, so he’d seen what he wanted to see. His assumption was no one’s fault but his own.

“Keep up. You can get lost in here.” And that was one of the reasons they’d picked out this place—the compound. Its previous owner had apparently taken glee in making the mansion a maze of hallways that one could easily get lost in. It was a tactical advantage for his team if anyone tried to breach the compound. Plus, they’d set up their own sensors and booby traps along the hallways, all of which could be triggered remotely from the war room they’d set up inside.

The compound itself was nearly impregnable, but the war room was a work of glory.

Row upon row of high-definition flat screens lined every wall—enough to make NASA’s mouth water. It was the kind of technology someone could only afford with nearly limitless funding thanks to Caroline’s father’s genius investments. And they had taken full advantage—not out of want but out of need. General Rainier was still on the loose, and all their sources indicated he was hunting Hicks’s team.

“I can handle myself, I’m a big girl,” she muttered behind him.

He stiffened and stopped mid-stride. Just go, man, dump her on the team. You did your part. But he couldn’t. “Obviously.”

He sensed her nearing and turned, unable to keep the disgust from his face. She was just like his mother. She used people for money. For power. No matter who got hurt along the way.

Whitney pulled up just short of bumping into him, tottering on her impossibly tall heels for a second. An hour ago, he would have grabbed her to keep her upright. Now he crossed his arms and glared.

“Obviously,” she mimicked, “You noticed I’m a fully-grown woman capable of making her own decisions.”

“And lack of moral compass. You still haven’t told me why we couldn’t call the cops.”

“You think so.”

Hicks could barely control his rage. How could he have thought her pure? “I think you’re running your own little Ashley Madison ring.” More than likely, she was blackmailing her clients, and they’d gotten pissed.

“Ha, if only. With the kind of cash she pulled in, I wouldn’t be in an apartment in D.C.”

Why wouldn’t she give him a straight response? “So, you admit it.”

“I tell you what, Hicks. Since you already know everything, I’ll let you figure it out.”

He had to clench his teeth to keep from shouting. His reaction to her was too extreme all the way around. How could he even care what she was when she was so clearly selling herself?

And how could his body burn with fire at her nearness when he tasted ashes in his mouth knowing what she was?

Fuck, he wasn’t up for this. Hicks would find one of his teammates to dump this problem onto. He spun without a word, leaving her standing in the hallway, chest heaving over her too tight dress. But when he entered the kitchen, one room over from the garage, the expressions on his teammate's faces told him they’d heard every word. Diggs was leaned over the massive marble island, eating chocolate chip ice cream straight out of the bucket. He lifted up his hands and said, “No way man.”

Juarez, who was sighting a small crossbow, cast Hicks a single dark glance and said, “Don’t even think about it.”

King leaned against the counter, half a foot taller than Hicks, an empty smile on his face. “Lost your touch with the ladies, huh?”

Great, anyone who’d heard that exchange wouldn’t accept a problem mission like Whitney, no matter how much begging or bribing he did. “Where is Reaper?”

King just shook his head, “In bed with Caroline. He’s not leaving her side right now. She had an adverse reaction to her injections this morning.”

Shit. He didn’t need this. The only other man who wasn’t accounted for was Quantum, but he’d so far been unable to drag his ass out of his bed since they’d moved into the mansion. He’d reacted worse to the serum than the rest of them combined. The side effects dug into him anytime he started moving around. He’d either have a seizure or start talking gibberish.

“Diggs, come on man. You’re better at this kind of stuff than I am. Haven’t you been itching to get out and do something?”

Diggs took another major scoop of ice cream and rolled it around in his mouth before he answered. “I’m ready for action as much as the next man, but I ain’t dumb. You wanted her, you got her.”

Frustrated, Hicks swiped the spoon and the bucket of ice cream out from under Diggs’s fingers and took a bite. “Yeah, I take what I want.”

“Ah man, that ain’t right,” Diggs grumbled, his thick Cajun accent growing thicker with his irritation.

Hicks took another bite, savoring the sweet chocolate chips. He needed something to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth after his last exchange with Whitney.

King said, “So what’s her issue? We heard Dr. Averton’s sister was in some kind of trouble. You take care of it yet?”

They all owed Dr. Averton their lives, and the tone of King’s voice showed how much he cared. His entire team would lay down their lives for the doctor.

Hicks finished chewing his last bite, keeping his massive muscular arms circled around the bucket of ice cream to protect it from Diggs, who was searching for an opening to steal his snack back. “Someone stole her car and broke into her apartment.”

Juarez flicked his bowstring, the tightly pulled bow snapping with a slightly off-beat thump. He frowned as he reached up to adjust the tension. “So why don’t you just call the police?”

That was the same question he’d asked her. Her every reaction had been that of someone hiding something. Of someone who was up to something tawdry or illegal. Normally, people who hid from the police weren’t doing it because they were following the letter of the law. But he had a hard time swallowing that pill with Whitney Averton. Maybe it was her curves, maybe it was that sinful mouth, or maybe he instinctively sensed she was beyond good in bed.

“I don’t know, but she doesn’t want to involve them,” Hicks said carefully. He valued his teammates’ opinions and thoughts more than he could say, but something inside him didn’t want to see Whitney incriminated in their eyes.

Juarez stopped flicking his bow and set it on the counter, giving Hicks his full attention. “Why don’t you tell us a little bit more about the situation?”

“Haven’t found out much about the car, but her apartment was destroyed.”

King joined the conversation. “What did they take?”

“As far as we could tell, nothing.”

King replied, “Which means they weren’t there to rob her.”

“They were sending a message,” Diggs finished quietly.

Sensing his team was still on his side, Hicks let out a tense breath and slid Diggs’s ice cream back across the island. “My first thought was a stalker. He ripped up her mattress and left a nasty message on her bathroom mirror. The entire place had been ransacked.” Except for the fetish gear.

Was that something she used on her lover? A client?

A silence fell over the entire room. Hicks looked up. Of course. Whitney stood in the doorway, her very presence enough to knock the wind right out of him, and from the stunned expressions on his teammate’s faces, he wasn’t the only one.