Page 43 of Covert Vengeance

Jesse wrapped his arms around her and leaned his forehead on the top of her shoulder, just breathing her in, savoring the feel of the firm curves pressed to him. Her chocolate-colored hair smelled like shampoo. It was soft and silky as he drew his fingers through it.

“I don’t even know you,” she complained in a low, irritated mutter. “You’ve literally been given a file on me about my entire past, and I know next to nothing about you.”

That was true. In that respect she was at one hell of an unfair disadvantage. “What do you want to know?”

She lifted her head to study him for a long moment, but didn’t shift away or try to get up. He was hard as steel under her ass but she didn’t seem to mind. “You’re really going to answer me?”

“Sure.” He had nothing to hide. Nothing to lose, except her, and he wasn’t going to do that.

“Where are you from?”

“New Mexico. My grandparents came there from Guadalajara after they were married.”

Curiosity lit her eyes. “You’ve got a family?”

He grinned at the astonishment in her voice. Not many people in their line of work could do what they did and maintain links with loved ones back home. He was no exception. “A few relatives left here and there, yeah. Some cousins. We’re not close, though.”

“So you’re an only child?”

“No.” He lowered his gaze, followed his finger as he drew the tip of it down the side of her neck to the hollow between her collarbones. “I had an older brother.”

“Had?”

Jesse nodded, finding he didn’t mind talking to her about it. “He joined the Army out of high school and I joined the Marines.” It was easier to talk about when he wasn’t looking at her. “He spent his entire career capturing high-level criminals and then watching them all go free on plea bargains or technicalities, or political deals. He hated that. Used to bitch to me about it all the time whenever we were home on leave together.

“Oscar refused to quit over it, though. His guys needed him, and he wouldn’t let them down or abandon them. Then one day, two of the HVTs his platoon had captured months before planned a suicide mission on a convoy. My brother was killed in the initial blast. The HVTs behind the attack were never found again.”

Amber was silent for a moment. “That must have been really hard for you.”

He nodded. Hard? Yeah. It had made him into what he was now. A merc. A hired killer with an agenda. “I finished my contract, but didn’t re-up.”

“And that’s when you became a hitter.”

“Yup.” He drew his fingertip over her collarbone, marveling at the seeming fragility of her when contrasted with how tough and badass he knew her to be. “I was sick to fucking death of watching bad guys literally getting away with murder and walking away, so I decided to do something about it. Took my first contract seven years ago. A wannabe warlord in the tribal region in A-stan.”

She nodded, her understanding strengthening the pull he felt toward her. “Mine was an arms dealer in Estonia. I was twenty-two.”

Jesse paused his finger and looked up into her face. She was staring at the floor, her expression far away. Twenty-two was too damn young to be doing that shit. “You’re thirty-four now?”

“Yes.”

Twelve years she’d been doing this. Working alone, pulling off high-risk jobs and hits, dancing with death every time and looking over her shoulder every step of the way. But the difference between them was, he’d done it by choice. She’d done it because she hadn’t been given a choice.

“Was any of it good?” he asked, bringing her gaze back to his. “Your training, and the job.”

“Yeah, a lot of it.” A fond smile tugged at her mouth as she recalled whatever it was she was thinking about. “Parts of it were the best times of my life. I loved learning what they taught me. I felt strong. Invincible. I liked taking out bad guys and emptying their bank accounts of all their dirty money. I believed in what I was doing, because I believed it made the world a better place.”

Her smile fell. “But that was before I found out I was just an asset they could use and then dispose of when they decided I’d served my purpose and no longer needed me.”

No, when they’d decided she and the others were too much of athreat.

He reached up to stroke a hand over her hair from the crown of her head to her shoulders. “When your trainer was killed?”

“Barry. He was a former Air Force intel officer.”

“Were you close?”

“As close as I’ve ever been to anyone.” She shook her head, the motion tight, angry. “But he’d lied to me all along too. He knew what they’d done to me and never said a thing. Knew they’d split Megan and me apart and told me she was dead. That they’d manipulated us in every possible way to get what they wanted, and then used us to do their dirty work.”

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