Page 5 of Mated to Team Shadow

Damon revved the engines with the roar of a 260-horsepower engine and left the cutter and St. Lucia a brief memory in a hopefully long life.

"How did we do?" I asked. The repeated slaps of the boat on the surface of the ocean forced me to sit, which I did next to our passenger.

"The bastard got to the dock," said Kane grimly.

"We shot. We didn't score," opined Gunner sourly. "What's Plan B?"

I needed to chew out the entire team, especially Gunner, but I was aware our guest barely clung to the bench as she shivered. She'd put up a brave front so far, but people handled stress in different ways. The last thing she needed was a Marine Sargent yelling at her.

"Alpha-Mike-Foxtrot. Time to disavow all of you and head to a nice island off the south of France."

"No can do, boss man, you can't adios us until the objective is achieved."

"How about we get our passenger to safety then and not spill mission objectives in front of civilians?"

"You've," she said, "failed in that."

I stared at her and couldn't pull my gaze away. Her eyes were the color of both sand and sea, two of my very favorite things, and her hair—wait. It glinted artificially in the sun, and something about the way it smelled confused me.

I yanked the wig off her head.

"Hey!"

Yeah, I got it now. Another woman's scent clung to the wig. I tossed it into the water.

"That belonged to my mother."

"Then why was it on your head?"

"None of your business," she snapped.

"Get her phone," said Gunner, "and the jump drives she stuffed in her bra."

"How do you—" she said indignantly.

"Sweetie, you were bouncing on my shoulder. I felt them."

"Oh, a regular princess and the pea," she snapped.

Damon chuckled over his shoulder, and Kane joined him. "That's a good name for you, Gunner. I like it," said Damon. "Princess."

"Don't you fucking dare, Darkman."

"You gonna make me?"

"Boy, boys," I said with my best authoritative air. "Let's not scare the lady with your juvenile antics."

"By all means," she said. "Let's frighten me with kidnapping and talk of assassination." She crossed her arms and stared at me as if she'd like to take a bite out of me.

Which isn't a bad idea.

I was surprised. My beast-self, my jaguar, rarely voiced things in words. He communicated more often with a random thought or a picture that flashed through my brain. Not that he wasn't smart. However, this part of me perceived the world in a more animalistic, and instinct-driven frame of mind.

Down, boy, I thought, though I knew damned well it wouldn't listen to my more human self. It never did.

I could almost hear a derogatory chuff, but I didn't have time for jaguar games.

"How soon before we meet our pickup?" I said.

---