Page 2 of Javier

It aggravated me to no end that my boss thought he had to babysit me every step of the way. Talk about micromanaging my mission. Then again, he had reasons. I got a hold of my hothead before I went and proved his point.

“I’m keeping track of my comms windows.” I reported in my most professional tone. “You ain’t got no rookie on the ground. I’m not gonna screw this one up. Over.”

“Just going down the checklist,” he replied briskly. “Make sure you set up for your next comms window.”

I rolled my eyes even as I double checked the time for my next comms rendezvous and confirmed I had it flagged. My boss, the legendary Marine Raider Dashiell Dagger—aka Omega—was a stickler for details.

“Any new intel on our subject?” the boss demanded. “Over.”

“That’s a negative.” It sucked, but this was my current status. “Over.”

“Should you pack out then?” His question was nearly a command. “Over.”

“No, negative, not yet.” I made a conscious effort to smooth out my voice and conceal my frustration. “I’ve got a job to do and I’ll do it. You just gotta let me do it. Over.”

“Stand by,” Dagger ordered. “Over.”

“Copy that,” I replied before Dagger clicked off.

The silence in the airwaves announced Omega was reassessing the situation, reviewing the mission’s specs, and processing my lack of real progress.

Goddammit.

I picked up my binos and reassumed my surveillance mode. I was no quitter. Even though I was at the top of my infil time window, I’d made it to my destination Scot-free. I wanted to have a go at this. Ineededthis chance at success.

A couple of months ago, Dagger had become the lead of Battle Brothers’ newest operational team. Battle Brothers—BB for short—was a highly successful startup founded by the Battleson brothers and based out of Denver. To the outside world, BB designed and sold smart outdoor gear, but there was a lot more concealed behind its co-op retailing front.

A hell of a lot more.

BB was one of the world’s finest global security firms, staffed by special operators who tackled private missions no one else wanted to touch, not even with a ten-foot pole. For reasons that boggled my mind, Dashiell Dagger had recruited me to join his new squad—Tracker Team.

I’d accepted because, let’s face it, I’d been in jail at the time and unable to make bail. Dagger had paid my bond and gotten me back into the fight. He’d financed my defense so that the misdemeanor charges of public intoxication, assault, and disorderly conduct were dropped. Why he’d done all that, I wasn’t sure.

Charity maybe?

I ground my teeth and squinted into the lenses. My pridewas opposed to charity and altruism stuck in my craw. Sure, I was a fucked-up hothead these days, but I’d been good at my job before I screwed up. I’d been among the best. My last active-duty mission might’ve wrecked my life as I knew it, but it hadn’t erased my skills.

At least, I hoped it hadn’t.

I was about to find out,ifI got a fucking chance. Blinking the sweat off my eyelids, I continued to scan the compound while awaiting Omega’s verdict.

My new job was a blessing. It paid extremely well, kept me busy, and grounded me in the present, an improvement over wallowing in my shitty past. My new job was also a curse. Omega ran a tight ship, and Micah Bozeman, his second in command, was always on my ass. Still, I was thrilled to be back in the field. It wasn’t like I knew how to do anything other than fight like hell anyway.

Until Dagger made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, I’d been floating from one stupid job to another, from one bar fight to the next. Not the best use of my time, but it wasn’t as if I’d had a lot of offers.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Every second that passed meant Omega was reluctant to let me do my thing.

I was a surly, feisty, arrogant piece of shit with authority issues, a cracked ego, and a monumental fuckup on my record. I also had a debt I needed to repay. Someone had died under my watch, someone I respected and cared about. Three years later, I was still wrestling with the clusterfuck and unable to shake off the memories of the day it all went to shit.

Yeah, I was no shiny penny, no winner winner chicken dinner. Pretty much every other operator at Tracker Team would’ve been a better choice than me. And yet I’d been selected for this complex, priority one mission.

I’d almost asked for a pass. Then Goddess baked me chocolate chip cookies, sat me down in the tearoom at Astor House’s posh conservatory, and asked me kindly to accept the mission.

Goddesshad askedme.

Goddess—real name Athena Astor—was my boss’s partner and the love of his life. She was also the firstborn daughter of billionaire Richard Astor, recently deceased. Thena, as she insisted we call her, was in charge of managing her family’s ginormous fortune. She’d become my friend through the twists and turns of our last mission, which ended when we fought off her killers.

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