Page 3 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

“Be right there,” she called back, then looked up at Adam once more, her expression apologetic. “More meetings across town.” She hitched the strap of her laptop bag up higher on her shoulder. “So I’ll see you tonight at six?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

He expected her to walk away then. With her boss looking on and knowing how career-minded she was, he thought she’d just nod and head to the vehicle.

Instead she reached up and cradled the side of his face in her palm, mirroring what he’d done a minute ago. “I’m really looking forward to spending time together tonight. I’ve missed you.”

Her words hit him deep but the mix of longing, hunger and need on her face had him biting back a groan. Lust and triumph surged through him, went to his head like a shot of hundred-proof whiskey. He loved knowing she’d missed him, as well as the physical part of their marriage. It had been months since they’d last had sex and he was fucking starved for it.

Starved for the taste and feel of her, even if he knew it was too soon for that. Sex had been an integral—and mutually enjoyable—part of their relationship before, but it wasn’t going to solve their problems.

“Missed you too.” He turned his head to press his lips to the inside of her palm. Her fingers contracted slightly against his skin and her pupils expanded.

God, just that subtle reaction from her and he was already getting hard. Feeling completely possessive and territorial, there was no way he could let her go without staking some kind of claim.

Sliding his hand down to cup her jaw, he bent and covered her mouth with his. A long, firm press of lips that told everyone watching who she belonged to. She was his and he wasn’t letting her go.

When he pulled back a moment later and let his hand drop she blinked up at him as though coming out of a daze, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “See you tonight.”

Adam watched her walk away, let his gaze slide down to admire the way her ass moved with each confident stride. The moment she shut the door behind her the vehicles began to roll forward.

“Blackwell, you ready to roll?” Tuck’s voice came through his earpiece.

He reached up to tap it. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” It felt like he was walking on air as he strode across to the other side of the underground garage where three more black SUVs were all lined up and ready to go.

His six teammates and commander waited beside the vehicles, all dressed in khaki pants and button down shirts. They might be dressed as civilians, except they were anything but. Each of them had two weapons tucked away in custom-fitted holsters beneath their shirts, and their rifles and other gear were stowed in the vehicles.

Tuck, the team leader, looked over at him and raised his dark blond eyebrows. “You look happy,” he commented, his Alabama drawl mirroring his laid-back personality.

He shrugged. “I am happy.” Though he didn’t say much to the guys and he kind of kept to himself mostly, they were still like his brothers. He’d told Cruzie a little bit about the situation, and of course both DeLuca and Tuck were aware of what was going on, but none of them knew the details. He was just really private about his personal life, always had been.

Schroder, the team medic, grinned at him and scratched at his reddish beard. “So from the look on your face, I’m guessing it went well?”

He couldn’t help but grin. And he couldn’t help it if it looked a little smug. He was damn pleased with himself. “Yep. Taking her out on a date tonight.”

“A date?” Cruzie piped up, his light brown eyes gleaming with interest as he pushed his way around Vance’s big frame to get closer to Adam. “That’s huge, man. Awesome.”

For him it was. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and looked at DeLuca, uncomfortable with the attention placed squarely on him. “So, where to? Still back to the hotel?”

His commander nodded, his eyes shaded by the brim of his Chargers cap. “Lunch meeting, afternoon meeting, then a team briefing. They’ll be down in two minutes,” he said, looking toward the elevators.

Adam waited with Schroder while the others piled into the vehicles. DeLuca and Tuck with Bauer in the lead SUV, Vance and Cruzie in the third. Evers was already behind the wheel of the second.

Right on cue the elevator doors opened and the director stepped out with two of his staff. After the men climbed into the back of the SUV, Adam shut the door and hurried around to ride shotgun beside Evers, or “Farmboy” as they sometimes called him.

DeLuca’s voice came through their earpieces. “Let’s go.”

The convoy pulled out of the garage under heavy security at the building’s perimeters and picked up speed as they headed for the nearest freeway onramp. Adam remained silent in the front passenger seat while the director and his aides talked business in the back. He kept watch out the window and used the mirrors, on alert for any sign of a threat.

The ride itself was uneventful, and when their hotel came into view fifteen minutes later, he let himself relax slightly. Security had the place locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

But as they neared the entrance, the radio on his hip chirped. Static rippled across the frequency, then came the distorted sound of shouting, followed by the unmistakable pop-pop-pop of automatic gunfire.

Summer’s convoy.

Adam’s heart rate jacked up. He grabbed for the radio as all conversation in the vehicle ceased.

“What the hell’s that?” the director demanded.

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