[Ryan]

The sound of my phone buzzing across my nightstand wakes me. I grab my glasses to check the number. It’s blocked, so I ignore the call before falling to the bed. The phone buzzes again, this time in my hand. I kill the call. I can’t send a text since it’s a blocked number, so I choose to ignore it.

The phone gives me two short buzzes, signaling I have a text. I lift the phone to read it. It’s TREX. You want to answer the call.

This time when it buzzes, I jump into my PJ bottoms and hurry out of the room, closing the door behind me. Emma doesn’t even stir. I bring the phone to my ear as I enter the kitchen and whisper, “Hello?”

“I take it you’re not alone.” It’s the woman from outside the bar. “Good for you.”

“How did you get this number?” I steal a glance down the hall to make sure Emma doesn’t come out and catch me on the phone with another woman. My ears immediately heat. If whatever TREX is has the ability to track down my number, they have to know I took Emma home last night. Do they know what we did, that she drove me into two of the most powerful orgasms of my life? I’m not about to ask.

“I’m going to send you a few IPs to hit.”

I don’t care about IPs. I care about sleep. Glancing at the clock on the stove causes me to inwardly groan. It’s not even four in the morning. I’m tempted to hang up, but I have a feeling she’ll just call again and again until I give in. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Are you seriously asking how I got your number after all that intel I dumped on you at the bar?”

Intel? Who talks like that? “Are you from some sort of secret government agency?”

She snorts. “This isn’t one of your video games.”

“Then what is this?” I ignore the fact she knows I’m a gamer. It’s not that hard to figure out. It’s not like I’m the kind of guy to wear football jerseys. I don’t even own a football jersey.

“We’re interested in you.”

“Interested how?”

“As an asset. Check out those IPs. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends. I stare at the screen, deliberating whether to open my laptop or climb back into bed next to a sexy redhead. It takes me all of a nanosecond to make my decision. As I start down the hall, the phone in my hand buzzes twice. I slow and read the text. You really want to hit those IPs. Now.

With a sigh, I concede and remove the laptop from my bag, setting it up on the kitchen counter. The glow from the screen lights the entire room, so I turn it down on the off chance it may wake Emma. I highly doubt it will. That woman sleeps like she does everything else—without any inhibition. Smiling at the not-so-distant memory of something else she does without inhibition, I read the text listing the IPs.

I blink and lift my glasses to rub at my eyes. I know better than to blindly enter a random IP into my browser and instead open a command prompt before pinging the first IP. It takes me three tries just to get the right array of numbers. Jesus, I’m tired. I have a beautiful woman in my bed. I’m an idiot for sitting here in the dark when I can be stretched out next to her.

There’s no reason I can’t do this tomorrow. I reach to close the laptop just as the ping returns the results. I lean closer. This can’t be right. The ping doesn’t return a host name—but it does return a reply.

Of something I’ve never seen. Just like that, the screen transforms into a giant hashtag with a prompt at the bottom. Would you like to play?

Now wide awake, I adjust my glasses and give the screen my full attention. It’s not a hashtag. It’s a 3x3 grid, setting the board for tic-tac-toe. I have seen this before. In fact, I wrote this exact program my senior year of high school. How’d TREX get a hold of it? I thought I lost it when I left home.

I type my response. X takes lower left corner. An X appears in the opening.

A corner play? Interesting. O takes the center. An O appears in the center square.

Smiling as I anticipate the moves of the game, I enter my next move. X takes upper right corner.

“Come on,” I mutter. While normal teens actually socialized and went to school events, I spent the time playing this stupid game against a computer, winning every time. “Don’t make it too easy on me.”

When the computer returns, O takes upper left corner, I roll my eyes and type, X takes lower right corner for the block. I also created a fork, guaranteeing my win.

That was too easy.

The screen clears, followed by a prompt of, I see you remember your own game. Same moves. Every time. We’ll have to work on that. Too predictable. Next IP, please.

No. No more IPs. No more tests. I’m tired. I want sleep. Whatever mind game this woman wants to play can wait for daylight. I close the laptop and leave my phone on the kitchen counter before shuffling back into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

* * *

TREX HQ

Bailey hit the return key over and over, positive they’d lost the connection instead of the obvious—he’d closed his laptop. In essence, he’d hung up on her. No matter how many times she tried his cell, he didn’t answer. Damn it. He must have turned off his ringer. Either that, or his battery died.

“Why isn’t he answering?” she asked after it went to voicemail again.

Jason Bowman, her personal protection detail and currently ex-boyfriend rolled his eyes and groaned into the air. “Because it’s four in the morning. Come on, Bails. Let the guy sleep.”

“The threats we hunt down don’t sleep,” she fired back, flashing him a burning glare. He shrank back. If she couldn’t find dedicated recruits, she’d fail. If she failed, she’d not only be out of TREX, she’d no longer be able to protect all the frontline agents—like her twin sister. She had to do whatever it took to make this program a success. Her sister’s life depended on it. “Why should our agents?”

“He’s not an agent. He’s a twenty-three-year-old male college student you dragged away from a twenty-two-year-old female college student. They hooked up at a bar. He took her home. Do the math.”

No. She refused to accept she’d chosen a recruit who’d put his libido over the find and tried his number again. It went to voicemail. “Damn it. He’s putting the entire mission at risk.”

“Bailey. Sweetheart. He doesn’t have a mission. He’s not even an agent, yet. He has no idea why you’re contacting him.” Jason easily removed the phone and took both her hands in his. He held her prisoner in his crystal blue gaze. “And right now, you’re stalking him. Take a break.”

“We don’t have time to take a break.”

“It’s only been three weeks.”

“Exactly.” She jerked her hands away and backed against the wall, resting her head against it. The feeling of helplessness almost consumed her. “It’s been three weeks, Jas. What if I can’t do this?”

“That’s not even a question.” He approached and brushed some of the hair from her eyes. “Of course can do this. You’re Bailey freakin’ McKoy. You’re the smartest person I know. If anyone can get this program off the ground, it’s you.”

His words helped, but didn’t convince her. “Maybe if I try him again—”

“No.” He took the phone out of her hands after she’d picked it back up. “Let the guy have a little fun.”

“That’s all it is to you, isn’t it?” She was so tired of having this same fight. Ultimately, it was what broke them up. Bailey wanted a serious relationship, wanted someone who took her seriously. Jason had no idea what the word meant. He drove his brother Jeremy crazy with his lackadaisical attitude. He drove everyone crazy, especially Bailey. “When are you going to grow up?”

“When someone proves to me being an adult is better than being a kid.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He grinned. “Yes, I am.”

“I knew better than to allow you as my security detail on this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I need someone serious about their job!” she snapped and panted, forcing the breath through her nostrils. He had that power over her, pushing her from zero to bitch in less than ten seconds.

“Not you, too.” He swung around, placing his back to her. When his shoulders fell, so did her heart. “I can take everyone else pissing in my face because I’m not angry all the time like my brother. Or that I don’t live and breathe the job like your army of brothers. I can deal with everyone in this goddamn agency thinking I’m a screw-up instead of telling them the truth about that mission.”

He glanced over his shoulder, hitting her with a somber expression. A rarity on him. “What I can’t take…” He hesitated as she faced her. “What I refuse to accept is you believing I’m not good at what I do all because I like to have a little fun.” He inched toward her as his gaze warmed. “I seem to recall a pretty brunette with amazing blue eyes who used to love having fun.” He studied her closer. “She’s still in there somewhere.”

No. She stopped having fun after her bad intel nearly got her brother killed and left him partially paralyzed. She completely disappeared after her twin, her best friend in the entire world, left her to join one of TREX’s spec ops units. Another life in Bailey’s hands. What if she couldn’t deliver the intel fast enough this time? What if she failed, this time succeeding in getting a sibling killed? She’d never recover if she lost her sister.

“You may have everyone else fooled with this bitch act you’ve got going,” Jason pointed out, pulling her from her pity party, “but you know better with me. We share more than airspace. We both have a pain-in-the-ass identical twin. We both hate being constantly compared to our sibling. With me, it’s only Jer, but that’s enough. For you, you’ve got an entire litter of McKoys you feel are overshadowing you.” He stepped close enough to brush the hair off her shoulders and rest his arms on either side of her neck. “I’m here to tell you, they’ve got nothing on you, babe.”

She smiled, warming to his words, to his comfort.

“Well, except they do smile more.”

Dropping what little smile he’d earned, she regarded him. When his grin widened, she wanted to stay mad, but couldn’t. He’d always had that power over her, too. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to let the guy sleep.” He kissed her nose, surprising her. Were they about to change their status from off-again to on-again? “You’re going to let him wake up next to what could quite possibly be the first woman he’s ever had in his bed.”

She met his gaze. “And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” He leaned in, hovering his lips inches from hers. She lifted her chin. He inched closer and whispered, “I make you breakfast.” He nipped at her lips. “In bed.”

“Sounds great.” She sighed when he captured her lips with his, consuming the rest of her thoughts.

On-again it was.