Page 1 of Skull

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With the encounterwith Hummingbird still tingling through his body, Cooper “Skull” Sullivan arrived at base and stepped into the ready room—only to be surprised to find her already there. The CIA Shadowguard, fresh from Bogotá where she’d helped take down the Alzate Cartel, looked every bit the professional: fearless, a master of disguises, as natural at lying as she was breathing. Skull swore he’d left the bar where they’d first met before she reappeared. How the hell had she gotten there ahead of him? Had she sprouted wings?

Everyone else was there, too—Hummingbird’s sarcastic, lethal partner Strekoza, and the rest of his teammates, except for Hazard. The look on their CIA liaison’s face, Anna Graham told him something was very wrong. What had gone south?

Skull sat down next to Carter “Boomer” Finley. Boomer smiled at him at first, then his expression sharpened as he studied Skull’s face from every angle. “Is that …glitter?” he asked, reaching out to touch Skull’s neck. Skull batted the hand away. Kelly “Breakneck” Gatlin, seated on the other side, smirked.

“What the fuck, man?” Skull growled. He threw a scathing glance toward that damn woman and her fucking fairy dust. Beyond the scorching heat and the attraction they generated, he was inexplicably drawn to her multifaceted personality. He wanted to know her better, but he was wary of unraveling the mystery completely. It would be a matter of peeling back the many facades until he discovered the real woman beneath. Her offer of fire, energy, humor, sass and passion in his bed was downright seductive—if only he could clear her from his thoughts.

Boomer glanced at the tip of his index finger, then shot a sideways look at Hummingbird. His brows lifted. “Have you been a big bad wolf?”

What kind of question was that? Of course, he was after her like a wolf. He wasn’t dead—fuck, he was getting so sucked in by her that even though she managed to tease him into reacting, he had to admit that the woman intrigued him on too many levels to sort out right now. Her offer in the bar made his body clench, a dangerous cocktail of desire and apprehension.

Then his thoughts turned darker. Even as her memory made his pulse race, Skull knew that deep down his mind was elsewhere. His father was still in the hospital, critically ill. Even sex, for all its allure, had become a distraction. In that charged moment, he realized that soon he’d have to make a painful choice: duty or family. His father’s condition tugged at him relentlessly. No matter how much he loved his dad, his oath to his country meant he couldn’t walk away.

Maintaining a bland expression, he met her mischievous eyes across the room. Dressed in tight white jeans that outlined every curve of her toned lower half, sexy high-heeled sandals matching her baby-pink halter top that left her provocative shoulders bare, she was sugar and spice and everything nice. Her silky, tousled, almost-white shoulder-length hair framed her pixie features and lent an air of fairytale magic to the glitter debacle. Smooth, creamy skin, a lush, pink-hued mouth that conjured way too many ideas, and smoky blue eyes glimmering with hidden laughter.

Christ. The memory of her up close washed over him again. Handling that pint-sized bundle of fortitude was both stirring and irritating. The determined gleam in her blue eyes told him that the delectable woman still had her sights set on him. It also reminded him why he hadn’t just given in and gone somewhere with her to satisfy what gripped both of them—pure lust. But his mind was on his dad, even as his body betrayed him. She made his pulse race, but her distraction wasn’t enough to keep him from duty. He couldn’t forsake his oath to his country, nor his responsibility to protect those he cared about.

“I’m going to kick your ass, Boomer, if you don’t shut up,” Skull growled.

“Touchy,” Boomer scoffed, blowing off a tiny square of glitter.

Breakneck nodded. “Downright grumpy,” he whispered sympathetically to Boomer.

“You, too, junior,” Skull snapped.

Boomer and Breakneck exchanged quick, conspiratorial looks and grinned.

Their leader, Master Chief Christopher “Iceman” Snow, spoke in a low, matter-of-fact tone as he strode by on a “drive-by walk” that recalled a tight end anticipating a tricky play.

“My suggestion would be just to bed her and get it over with.”

When Ice got antsy, nothing good ever came from that, Skull thought, grimacing internally.

Anna checked her watch and frowned. “Where are Hazard and Leigh? They should be here by now. Leigh is never late.” As her cell phone rang, she answered with a smile, then her face drained of color. “Who is this? This is a secure phone.” She looked to Iceman, who stiffened, then stalked to the front of the room. “We work together,” she said, closing her eyes in a brief moment of despair. “Yes, we’ll be right there.”

She disconnected the call and swept her eyes around the room, scanning the rest of Skull’s teammates—Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael, Remington “GQ” Nash, and Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta. “There’s been an incident.”

Twenty minutes later, Skull approached the “crime scene” outside Hazard’s apartment. Several police cruisers with flashing lights were parked at different angles, evidence that they’d arrived in a hurry. His gut clenched and anger surged as he got out of his Porsche Boxster—an expensive purchase bought with his bonuses.

According to the detective Anna had spoken with, Archer “Hazard” Booth and US Attorney Leigh Waterford had been taken about half an hour ago. Skull couldn’t help wondering if this was related to their last mission in Bogotá, where they’d arrested, tried, and convicted the Alzate Cartel’s leader, Angel Alzate. Angel had been sentenced to death for murdering numerous military members, federal agents, and civilians, not to mention two colleagues, Lieutenant Commander Terry “Patch” Patchett and Petty Officer Jack Morefield, during an ambush in Colombia aimed at kidnapping Leigh. Their successful mission had led them into the Darién Gap. With the couple missing like this, he couldn’t help wondering if the cartel had a hand in it.

Skull remembered how Hazard nearly lost his mind in that camp when he’d cornered one of Angel’s henchmen, who was attempting to rape Leigh. He’d pressed the muzzle of his sidearm against the bastard’s forehead, but thankfully, hadn’t pulled the trigger.

Anna was already talking to the detective, exchanging concerned glances with Iceman, whose face was as frozen as ice. This wasn’t the first time a teammate had been taken under Iceman’s watch. Their pretty boy GQ and his now-wife Celeste had endured a harrowing experience during their takedown of the No Safe Haven terrorist group.

Skull slipped past the officers guarding the door and reached Hazard’s apartment. His gut tightened further at the sight of blood on the wall, a clear sign that Hazard hadn’t been subdued without a fight. That was exactly what Skull expected. Squatting, he picked up an empty ring box, his urge to hunt into the night for answers battling with the need to stay and investigate. The memory of the night of their engagement, now twisted into something painful and terrorizing, flashed through him as he squeezed the box, teeth gritted in anger and fear.

“This is an active crime scene,” a woman said as she took the ring box out of his hands and bagged it. “You need to leave.”

Skull nodded and backed out, desperate to see for himself what had transpired. Outside, he approached Anna and Iceman. Though most of the team had been sent home, Skull couldn’t bring himself to return to his apartment while Hazard was missing.

“I told you to go home,” Iceman said.

“Fuck that. What do we have so far?” Skull retorted.

Anna exchanged a heavy sigh with Iceman. “Detective Wheeler said they got several calls from this location, and that neighbors heard screaming. One neighbor across the hall saw them hauling Leigh off. Hazard was unconscious.”

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