Page 89 of My Vigilante Valentine

Chris was already packing up his equipment. “10-4, good buddy.”

“Not a truck driver.”

I giggled, getting up to help Chris break down the command center. We carefully wrapped cords and stored monitors as the sirens grew louder, concealed by the perfectly nondescript Blade Team Machine.

Okay, yeah, we were still working on our version of “Batmobile,” but it would do for now.

By the time we were done packing up, the police were swarming the warehouse to collect their spoils.

And The Blade?

He was long gone.

We drove to the meeting spot—a quiet parking lot behind an abandoned strip mall—and found Jax already waiting.

He leaned against his truck, hood down, looking unreasonably attractive for someone who’d just taken down a weapons trafficking operation all by his lonesome. Well, for the physical part, anyway.

I was out of the van before Chris had fully stopped, practically running toward my man.

Then, I launched myself into his arms—knowing he would catch me—and he did, lifting me like I weighed nothing.

A low chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “Miss me?”

I snorted into his neck. “Nope. You were in my ear the whole time.”

Total lie and we both knew it.

But then, a shudder rolled through me without my permission. I tightened my arms around him, letting the truth slip through. “That might’ve been a little scary.”

His grip tightened instantly, his hand smoothing over my back in a way that probably wasn’t even intentional—but felt like it was. “I had it under control.”

“I know.” I pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry.”

Something in his expression shifted—softened—but before I could pinpoint it, he kissed me.

Hard. Deep. Like this wasn’t the middle of a parking lot, and like I was the only thing grounding him after our first mission as a team tonight.

A throat cleared, loud enough to cut through the haze.

“If you two are done being gross,” Chris deadpanned, “maybe we debrief before I die of secondhand embarrassment?”

I broke away with a laugh that was way too breathless, but I stayed in Jax’s arms, my hands still fisting his hoodie.

Jax exhaled through his nose. “Guess we can put a pin in it.”

Chris huffed. “Anyway,” he said, lowering the tailgate of Jax’s truck as if it were his own. Then, he pulled out his laptop and fixed us with a down-to-business stare. “What did we learn tonight?”

Jax didn’t hesitate. “That Luna has an eye for detail.”

I beamed, expecting a compliment tax.

“Then again, I already knew that.”

…Oh.

Okay, then.

Chris smirked. “Not bad, Menace. Maybe we’ll keep you.”

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