Page 1 of Flint's Battle

CHAPTER 1

“If you keep staringat Emery whenever she’s on shift here, Flint, she’s going to arrest your ass.”

Flint O’Connell shrugged Bowie’s hand from his shoulder, giving his best friend a shove as the guy moved in beside him at the bar. Ignoring the fact Bowie was right, the last thing Flint needed was his buddy reminding him how he’d spent the past month dancing around his instant attraction for Emery McClane instead of charming the lady into allowing him to take her out for coffee.

Flint took a pull of his beer, looking everywhere but at Emery. “Shut up. I wasn’t staring.”

“Do you prefer the term ogling?”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“At least I had the balls to ask Moana out instead of pining away, hoping she’d take pity on me and make the first move.” Bowie shook his head. “It’s sad, bro.”

“What’s sad?”

Carter Nolan snagged the seat on the other side of Flint, thanking the bartender when she placed his usual beer in front of him.

Bowie nodded at Flint. “How lovesick Flint is over the beautiful Detective Sergeant McClane.”

Carter chuckled. “Still haven’t asked her out, huh? Bowie’s right. That’s sad.”

“Like you’re both experts.”

Carter glanced at Mia Ryan when she darted out of the office for a moment, stopping to smile at him before heading back in. They’d been seeing each other for nearly a month, and Flint knew Carter was so in love with the lady, he couldn’t see straight. “Compared to you? We’ve got doctorates.”

“Just shut up and drink your damn beer.”

“I’d ask you three what you’re discussing, but it’s obviously about Flint and his inability to get Emery to notice him.”

Quinn Kennedy ambled up to the bar, smiling far too long at Dahlia, the bartender, when she leaned over and placed his beer on the counter. She lingered for a few moments, absently rubbing a cloth over the surface before finally moving on to another customer at the far end.

Flint shook his head. “You should talk. You’re practically drooling over Dahlia, yet you haven’t done so much as get her number.”

“Who says I don’t have her number?”

“I do. And before you try to bluff your way out of it, you’ve got a tell.” Flint took another swig, thumbing the glass. “Any update from Castle on whether he’s got enough evidence to crucify our asshole teammates, yet?”

Not that he or his buddies considered McCarthy, Hendrick, Jones, or Ferrero teammates. Not after they’d realized the four SEALs they’d been teamed with for the past year were skimming drug money from several seizures they’d been involved in. The fact the other men had actively tried to kill Flint and his crew during the past few missions had been the motivation they’d needed to finally make a move. But knowing they were criminalsand actually proving it were distinctly different. And if their commanding officer couldn’t connect them with their internal contact — one Edward Fueller III — Flint’s team would have to decide if they returned to service, fully aware the other men would make more attempts on their lives, or if they called it quits.

Quinn tapped his bottle on the counter, answering the question without saying a word. “He’s still working on it.”

“Which means we remain on mandatory leave until he either figures it out, or we’re forced to make a decision.”

The group fell silent. Though, Flint knew both Carter and Bowie already had one foot out the door. Bowie had gone so far as to confide in Flint that he wanted to stay on the Big Island with Moana — join Hawk’s crew as part of the Brotherhood Protectors. And Flint had to admit, the idea had merit. Especially if it meant he had more time to convince Emery he was worth the risk.

Quinn turned to face them. “We’ve got until the end of the month before our time’s up. Let’s give Castle the benefit of the doubt.”

“It’s not Castle who’s out to kill us. And while I hate the idea of leaving like this, I’m having a hard time convincing myself to spend the next few years watching my own back because one of my fucking teammates might put a knife in it.”

“They’re not teammates.” Quinn sighed at Flint’s raised brow. “But I get your point. And I’ll admit, Hawk’s got a pretty sweet setup here. And with Kian, Waylen and the rest of their crew already established, it’s looking better by the second. I just hate the idea of those bastards getting away with it — possibly hurting the next four guys who are unfortunate enough to get placed on their team. We’ve always had each other’s backs. But it might not be an established crew that gets paired up with them next time. Not to mention, I hate losing and coming acrossas a liar because there’s no way those radios were the cause of anything.”

Flint merely nodded, nursing his beer as the jukebox played in the distance. They’d already spent a month testing the radios the other men claimed were the cause of all the near misses on Flint’s crew but had come up empty — the reason their CO, Castle, had sent them to the Big Island and Hawk’s branch of the Brotherhood Protectors to begin with. A viable ruse while Castle gathered evidence. But they were running out of time, and they all knew it.

Voices rose above the music, a sudden crash cutting through the din. The men turned, looking toward the far side of the bar just as one of the servers swatted at some guy’s hand before kneeling to pick up a broken glass.

The asshole smoothed his palm along the woman’s hip, grinning at her when she glared at him over her shoulder. “Since you’re on your knees, sugar, why don’t you put that smart mouth of yours to good use.”

That’s all Flint needed to hear before he stood, taking a step toward the table, only to have Emery appear in front of the jerk, arms crossed, feet braced apart.