Chapter 3
“This place puts the seed in seedy.” West snorted.
Hooch and Scooch was the ideal location for backroom deals and shadiness. Smoke hung thick in the air. Given the fingerprints on his glass and petrified gum on the underside of his table, he was afraid to even touch anything.
“Yeah, it’s a freak show alright.”
Spark’s voice was as clear as a bell in his ear, even though he was back at the command center, instead of standing right beside him. He’d purchased comms for the entire team so they could stay in touch during an operation. West had gotten used to constant contact with his colleagues.
“Roger that,” West said.
In this area, right outside Lexington, the windows were covered with bars. Several of the homes had been vacated during the housing crisis. They were boarded up, spray painted with gang graffiti. This was the sort of neighborhood where people made it a point to not notice things.
Behind the club, there was a rusted out Dumpster, along with some scattered trash. Left by scavengers of either the animal or human variety. They’d parked the Jeep near it, so they wouldn’t attract undo attention, but West worried someone might boost it.
“Yeah, let’s hope this thing’s legit.” West didn’t want to waste everyone’s time on a fool’s errand. He’d chosen a corner booth so he could see the entire bar, and hadn’t seen a damn thing.
“Don’t worry, Chief, I’ve got a good feelin’ about this,” King said.
His teammate, Thomas King, sat on the opposite side of the room. They’d walked in separately and cased the joint, looking for any sign of their target, as well as potential problems. King served as his backup tonight, in case things got out of hand.
“Yeah?” West asked.
“Yep, we’re gonna find our tango.”
They all had a superstitious bent, certain rituals they followed before or during deployment, like lucky socks, or not shaving. West doubted it helped at all, but he always felt better when he drank coffee out of the mug Katie had made for him in school.
They need all the advantages they could get. Let’s face it, when did anything go according to plan?
Like West, King was a former Navy SEAL, although they hadn’t been on the same team. They’d both trained at Coronado together, and they’d been stationed in Little Creek, Virginia afterward. West had offered King a job, and he’d accepted, before turning his resignation in around the same time.
King was six foot eight with reddish blond hair and a thick layer of stubble on his chin. He could bench press twice his own weight, although he didn’t have a bulky bodybuilder physique. West figured King’s size contributed to his strength.
“So far it’s been a bust.”
“Now, I wouldn’t say that.” King hummed along with a Savannah Summers song. “This beats hangin’ out in the desert with sand up your crack.”
West chuckled. “Lord help me. You’re still hung up on her?”
The man had a serious obsession with the singer.
Savannah Summers was a famous country music star and every song she released topped the charts. During one of their deployments when they’d been in Afghanistan at the same time, he’d driven West crazy by playing her music night and day. West didn’t even like her songs, but he knew every fucking lyric.
“Damn straight. Me and Savvy are always and forever. Get used to it.” Her nickname was Savvy, and King acted as though they were best friends. King followed her on social media and commented on every fucking post she made, too.
Like a stalker.
“You better get some earbuds because I ain’t listenin’ to her wail twenty-four hours a day,” Quentin Zane said, over the comms. Like West and King, Zane was a former Navy SEAL, although he’d been teammates with West.
King crossed his massive arms over his equally large chest. “She doesn’t wail! People magazine called her the voice of her generation.”
“Savannah sounds like a howler monkey. Don’t make me come over there and whoop your big ass, King.”
Zane was six feet tall, but anyone looked small next to King. He had steely blue eyes, medium brown hair, and a sinewy, well-developed frame. Like the rest of them, he worked out all the time. Staying in shape wasn’t optional when you had to run for your life at any moment.
Zane stood on the roof, across the street, monitoring the entrance and playing overwatch for the night. It gave him a bird’s eye view of the block.
He also had a visual on them from the body cams they wore this evening. It wasn’t standard procedure, but West wanted to review the footage later and make sure he hadn’t missed the tango, lurking in the background somewhere.
“As if you could, and, for the record, my ass isn’t big, it’s toned, Zane.”
West smothered a laugh.
“Hey, speakin’ of nice asses, check out the brunette at the bar,” King said.
West had noticed her when he’d first walked in. She was sitting all by her lonesome, and his gaze had drifted her way far too often.
I’m here on a stakeout for God’s sake. Not to ogle chicks.
Zane whistled. “Damn, she’s a looker, and if I ain’t mistaken, exactly your type, Chief.”
King, West, and Zane were Southern. Although, King was from Virginia and Zane hailed from Georgia.
And Zane wasn’t wrong about the woman.
West had a thing for dark-haired girls. He blamed it on all those episodes of Dawson’s Creek he’d watched as a young teenager with his older sister. Katie Holmes had been his first celebrity crush.
“Stay on task, guys. We’re here to do a job, not leer at the ladies.”
The truth was, West couldn’t take his eyes off the brunette, no matter what he’d just said. Her jeans were so tight they showcased every single inch of her long legs, and she had a peach shaped ass so damn fine it made a man want to sink his teeth into it.
When she turned to the side, he got a glimpse of her pretty face, although she wore a lot of makeup—glossy lips and lots of mascara. West preferred the natural look. He loved sleep tousled hair and kissable naked lips.
She also had large breasts barely contained by a tight pink top. Over it, she wore a lightweight white sweater which wasn’t fastened.
Those luscious tits made his mouth water. West was a breast man and always had been.
He was willing to bet she had a big brass pair of balls as well, at least in the metaphorical sense. She was taking a risk, being all alone in a place like this. A sweep of the room confirmed a lot of male attention was focused on her. At least West thought she was unaccompanied because he didn’t see anyone with her.
Although somehow he had the impression, she’d wanted to draw attention to herself. Something was off about her, although he couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Who says we can’t do both?” King asked.
“King and I never agree, but he’s right,” Zane said. “It’s time to get back on the horse. You’ve been divorced forever, Chief. Why don’t you ask her out?”
“Drop it.” West sighed and tossed back the rest of his watered down whiskey.
He and Paige had been separated for months before they had formalized the divorce. Since then, West had screwed around with plenty of women, but none of them held his curiosity or captured his attention for more than one night. He’d been in a dry spell for a bit while he focused on Black Star.
As per usual, they ignored him.
King spoke up. “It looks like I was wrong, and this operation is a bust anyway. I don’t see Ryder anywhere.” After they’d gotten Huck’s fax, they’d studied the target’s picture.
West didn’t reply.
“Come on, West, you can’t spend all of your time locked up in your room with the latest Penthouse magazine.”
“I resent that, Zane, I’ve joined the digital age and I get my porn online, like any other red-blooded American male.”
“Go on over and say howdy. Maybe get her number, brother.” King nodded in the direction of the bar. “Come on.”
West gritted his teeth.
He almost longed for the old days when he could threaten them with real sanctions. He’d been the team leader back in the day. They called him “Chief” as a sign of respect since he was in charge, but they also called one another “brother” in the field. During their deployments, they’d all gotten very close, like a family.
“Uh-oh, it looks like someone beat you to it, Chief. And he’s comin’ in hot.” Evidently, Zane was providing color commentary along with his overwatch duties.
Sure enough, a man in a trucker hat and a flannel shirt sat beside the brunette and reached across the counter to grab a bowl of peanuts, conveniently brushing an arm against her breasts, copping a sly feel. Fixing the dickhead with a glare, she hopped off the stool and moved two feet away from him.
Unfortunately, the bastard followed her.
Gritting his teeth, West forced himself to stay put.
He didn’t want to blow this opportunity by calling attention to himself, but he couldn’t stand to see the woman manhandled.
“This would be the perfect opportunity to play hero.” King lifted a brow, urging West to get off his ass.
“And then you could offer to buy her dinner, but I’d take her someplace else.” West could practically hear the scorn dripping from Stormy’s voice. “Because, damn. That place looks like a staph infection waiting to happen.”
“And here I’d thought we’d lost you. Welcome back,” West said.
“I have eyes and ears on all of you, but I’m also cruising Vitacost for some melatonin supplements. It’s called multitasking. Hmm, I wonder if they have any matcha powder for my smoothie bowls.”
Lord help me.
West turned his attention back to the brunette. The guy reached for her hand, and his beer toppled over, drenching her shirt in the process.
“Fuck me, it’s a wet T-shirt contest.” King whistled real low in his ear. West had the urge to offer her the shirt off his own back.
He was about to get out of his seat and handle the situation when she grabbed the man by the lapels and got in his face. West had no idea what she said, but afterwards, the man slunk away with his tail between his legs.
West was proud of her. Apparently, she could take care of herself.
“Well, damn.” Zane snickered. “Looks like the little brunette don’t need anybody to stand up for her.”
“You done missed your chance, Chief,” King said.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, she emerged with a handful of paper towels and cleaned herself off. It didn’t help. There was still an eye-popping amount of cleavage on display, because the thin material of her shirt showcased her ample attributes.
“Heads up.” Zane cleared his throat. “The tango’s about to walk in the door.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” West asked.
“I think so. What do you say, Stormy? Can you zoom in?”
“Let me take a look. Yup, he’s a skinny dude and can’t walk a straight line. He must be high.”
And then the tango walked in the door.
“I’ve got eyes on him,” King said. “He’s walkin’ right past you, Chief.”
Ryder headed over to speak with the bartender. The target stood right next to the brunette, and his eyes just about popped out of his head when he glanced down at her impressive chest. The junkie didn’t even sneak a peek either, he just stared like a crass frat boy.
West was expecting another smack down. Instead, she laid a hand on his arm and leaned up to whisper something into his ear.
Licking his lips, he nodded.
“The fuck…?” King shook his head. “Seriously? She’s got a thing for junkies?”
Or maybe my instincts were right about her. Something’s up.
With a sultry smile, she headed out the back door, hips swaying. The brunette glanced over her shoulder and gave Ryder a coaxing smile. West felt a strange stab of jealousy, which was ridiculous since he’d never even spoken to the woman.
Dammit. I’m just worried about the op.
She’d put herself smack dab in the middle of their takedown and he didn’t want anything to happen to her.
The tango watched her go. After catching the bartender’s eye, he handed over a wad of cash. In a blink-and-you-might-miss-it move, the bartender placed a small plastic baggie into the junkie’s hand. And then Ryder scuttled off to the bathroom, presumably to get high before his back alley date.
“King, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” Although, West doubted wild horses could drag the junkie’s ass out of this place with such a sweet young thing waiting for him.
“I’m on it, Chief.” King headed for the men’s room while West made his way outside.
In the alley behind the bar, he found the shapely brunette lounging against the wall. She glanced in his direction and then her shoulders drooped once she realized West wasn’t Ryder.
“Ma’am, it ain’t safe out here.” West grasped her arm, and she slapped his fingers away.
“Don’t touch me. And don’t ever call me ma’am again.”
He held his hands up. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Please go back inside.”
“Why?” Her eyes narrowed.
West refused to explain himself. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
“The name’s Jackson West.” He stuck his hand out, and she reluctantly shook it. “And you are…?”
“Annie Foster. Now, leave, you’re in my way.”
He squinted at her. “Wait. Are you lookin’ for Ryder, too?” Was she a bounty hunter? Had she set some kind of honey trap for the target?
“Why are you watching Ryder?” Annie lifted her chin.
“Hey, Chief, we got a problem.”
Fuck me. Seriously? Talk about a real shit show.
“What is it, King?”
“The tango must’ve gotten spooked and climbed out the window. I don’t see any sign of him.”
“Copy that. We’re done for the night. It’s exfil time.” It was short for exfiltration or finishing a mission. Only they hadn’t finished it, they’d fucked it up.
And even worse, they’d inadvertently tipped the target off. Now Ryder knew they were looking for him.
West glared at Annie. “You got in my way.”
“No, you got in my way. And who the hell are you talking to?”
“My teammate.”
“Do you work for the police? The FBI?” She glared. “Maybe the Marshal Service?”
He ignored the question. “How did you find out he would be here?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I have my sources. What about you?”
“The same.”
“Great. Let’s never do this again.” She turned, as though to walk away
“Come with me, we’ve got a few things to discuss.”
This time he gripped her arm tighter so she couldn’t break his hold. With Annie in tow, West headed for the Jeep Grand Cherokee he’d just purchased. When he arrived at the passenger side, he found King and Zane already in the backseat.
“You’re abducting me.”
“No, I’m escortin’ you to another location so we can have a detailed discussion.” He opened the door and pushed her toward the seat. “Get in.”
“Which is also known as kidnapping.”
A round of laughter came from the backseat, but West ignored his buddies.
“Damnation, you could make a preacher cuss.” He pulled himself together. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want some straight answers.” West wasn’t certain if he wanted to kiss her or give her a hard spanking. Probably both and in that exact order.
Prior to sliding his cock into her sleek…
Now isn’t the time to think with your dick.
“Fine, but once we talk this out, and you agree to back off, you’ll take me back to my car.” She hopped into the Jeep.
“Deal.”
Although, he had no intention of backing off. West closed the door and rounded the car, before climbing in the other side. He started up the vehicle and took off down the road.
“What do you want with Ryder?”
He shook his head. “I can’t answer that question, it’s classified.” The words just popped out. Although to be fair, he’d had a lot of practice giving that particular explanation.
“Are you kidding me with this shit? You’re a bounty hunter, aren’t you?”
Another snort of laughter came from the back seat.
West fixed King with a dirty look—his infamous steely eyed gaze—the one that made enemy soldiers quake in their boots.
King shrugged. “Well, she’s not exactly wrong.”
“Shut it.”
More snickering followed, but neither of them spoke up. West was glad they found this so fucking amusing.
“Regardless, I already know everything about Ryder.”
“How?”
“It’s classified.” She crossed her arms over her spectacular chest.
He huffed an inpatient breath. Give a little, get a little.
“I run Black Star Security, and this is our first case. Ryder’s a fugitive, and I’m gonna bring him in.”
“No, I’m going to bring him in. Ryder’s mine.” She said the words with so much heat, he was momentarily taken aback.
“Why are you so hellbent on catchin’ him?”
Annie turned to glance out the window, as though she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.
“Because I’m the federal marshal who lost him in the first place.”