Page 76 of Breaker

As much as I want to rush to him and shake him, tell him to go sit back down before he compromises our mission, I keepmyself still and dare another glance toward the tiny woman with the green bear hat. She waves and I slowly look to the right and nearly choke on my tongue when I see a flash of pale pink.

Holy shit is right.

“That’s her?” I ask. “Gavin’s daughter?” I drop my hands to my thighs, gripping them as I watch her. She’s a sight to behold.

“That’s not an outfit. That is a pink nightie,” Viper says, and my gaze moves from the Gavin girl over the nearly empty sidewalk, looking for Viper. I still when I see him maybe only fifty feet from her, leaning against a light pole, thumbing through his phone. “It looks like those silky things women wear to bed when they want to fuck.”

Reaper says something unintelligible, then, “It’s a fucking dress, you idiot.”

Dress is being generous. If she bends over, which I’m kind of hoping she does, the entire park will see her panties.

I take a deep breath, telling myself not to be that guy, but I’m definitely that guy right now. So much so I hate myself a little. But that self-loathing doesn’t stop me from staring hard as Rune’s daughter, trailed by her security guard, as she snakes down the paths and meets her best friend.

“Dress,“ Viper says the word like it’s offensive. “Dresses don’t look like that.”

“That one does,” Striker says.

“Focus,” Reaper snarls, “we have a mission.”

“Mission.” Viper laughs as he pushes off the light post and sinks onto a nearby bench that’s entirely too close to our target. “This mission just got real interesting.”

Through the open mic, I hear Reaper say, “We have the target in sight. We are awaiting orders.”

Fallon’s crackling response from the satellite radio comes through the earpiece. “Extract.”

“Copy that.” Reaper repeats the order over the earpiece.

“We heard,” Striker says, “and Rodger that.”

“Not a problem,” Viper says, and Strike chuckles. “I’ll gladly take this hot piece of ass with us and tie her up.”

I don’t realize I’m nodding in agreeance until I feel the bench dip from the weight of a massive man sitting next to me.

Dread coils like a snake in my gut, freezing my limbs in place.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he asks, leaning back and spreading his arm out on the bench behind me. He flashes a bright smile, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Striker says in my ear, and his panicked alarm makes fear travel up my spine in little electric bursts.

I have one of two options.

Run like hell or face this problem.

I hold out my hand, offering it to the man wearing the three-piece suit. The gray hair around his temples stands out starkly against his dark skin. His deep brown eyes drop to my hand.

When he takes it, I say, “Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Harlow.”

He gives my hand a firm shake.

“What the fuck are you doing, Break,” I hear Reaper snarl in my earpiece just as Striker says, “Get the fuck out, now.”

Viper’s gritted out, “Jesus fucking Christ,” makes my skin prick, but I avoid looking in his direction. If I see him, how he’s probably marching toward me right now, it’s just going to make me panic even more.

“Are you all here?” Harlow asks, crossing his arms now, eyes darting over to Viper, who’s—I was right—stalking this way, with his shoulders bunched, the two women forgotten.

I shake my head, but Viper doesn’t slow down. Instead, he plops down on the bench next to Harlow and adjusts his hat as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

Harlow glances his way and cocks a brow but returns his gaze to me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

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