Page 8 of Covert Temptation

Con’s fierce expression told him that whoever had missed a wad of cash obviously hidden in Miss Bloom’s luggage was going to be cleaning toilets for a month.

He dived back in, tracking Kennedy to the train.

“Got her. Train headed northbound. I’ve got the number. Next stop’s Poughkeepsie.”

Con straightened, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good. Go after her.”

Dante froze. He had to be joking. But he didn’t look like it.

Con’s girlfriend might have lightened up their leader a lot since they met and fell in love, but Con was still a hard-ass.

“Why me?” Dante asked.

“Didn’t you say you wanted more field time?” He gave him a level look as if daring him to argue.

Dante didn’t have any reservations about arguing, not when it came to Kennedy Bloom.

“Not this.”

“You don’t get to pick and choose what orders to take, Mainframe. You know that. Now get out there.”

“Why can’t Steele go after her?”

“Because he’s guarding Chase and Alyssa.”

Dante bit back a curse as he pushed away from the desk. “Fine. I’ll grab my gear.”

“Chopper’s on standby.” Amusement seeped into Con’s tone.

“Copy.”

He barely had time to think before he was in the air, the blades spinning overhead in a rhythmic whir.

He landed five minutes ahead of the train’s arrival, giving him enough time to reach the platform and wait in the shadows just inside the shelter. The train hissed as it pulled up, the brakes squealing.

Then the doors slid open, and he boarded.

He picked her out immediately. Even if he didn’t know what she looked like, his gaze would automatically be drawn to Kennedy.

She sat about halfway back in a window seat. Her head was bowed as if she was reading something in her lap, but he knew she was probably just trying to avoid eye contact with the other passengers.

He started toward her.

Then she looked up.

Her eyes widened, and a glimmer of defiance crossed her pretty face.

Stopping in the aisle beside her, he looked down at her. “I need you to come with me.”

The twist of her lips and the sharp glint in her dark brown eyes—like poison-tipped darts aimed straight at him—made it clear she was anything but happy to see him.

She had a way of tipping her jaw in a defiant manner that made his fingers itch to—

To what?

He didn’t have an answer.

“And if I refuse?” Her voice was pitched low with challenge.

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