Page 4 of What About Love

“You took out the five-year-old with the ice cream cone again, Hixson,” her trainer admonished as she opened the door. “And the priest, you put a bullet in his chest, while the thug with the facial tattoos and the assault rifle, him you let mosey on down the street like he had corn for sale.”

“Yeah, but he had such a nice smile.” Imprudent, sure. Nevertheless, she couldn’t resist a smart-ass remark to lighten the mood.

Dan’s face flushed so red she thought his head would explode. “Ten minutes with a paddle, Cap,” he ground out. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“I think, my friend, that you’re about to get your wish.”

Angie’s jaw dropped as her eyes darted to her boss. Surely he wouldn’t allow Dan to spank her. They were doms, but this wasn’t Club Decadence, and she for damn sure wasn’t a submissive. Cap’s somber expression implied that he probably would.

Quickly, she apologized. “I’m sorry for being flip. It’s out of frustration. I’ll work harder.”

“You’ll get it,” Cap replied, his assurance surprising her. “You’re not the only one who’s had trouble with the simulator.”

Hearing that, Dan shot the big man a probing glance as if to say, “Yeah? Who?” which told Angie her boss was humoring her for some reason.

“Sit down,” Cap ordered, pulling out a black leather chair for her and waiting for her to comply.

Dragging her feet, the death knell of her career ringing ominously in her ears, she sat where he indicated. She wasn’t going back to the force. Maybe she’d get her P.I. license as she’d originally planned prior to coming to Rossi. Mentally adding up expenses versus her dwindling savings account, she waited for Cap to give her the ax.

“I’ve got an assignment for you, Angie.”

Her head shot up in surprise. “Anything, sir,” she blurted out, ready to show him he hadn’t made a mistake by hiring her.

Cap’s lips quirked at her eager response. “Hang on, before you jump in blindly. This mission requires special training, some of which you might find objectionable.”

She frowned. Before taking this job, she’d done her research and learned what Rossi was all about. They took bounty cases, mostly bail jumpers, and specialized in personal protection, surveillance, security consultations, and installation of alarm systems for sensitive businesses. They occasionally took government contracts, most of which were dangerous, like the two-year Mendoza Cartel investigation.

What she’d discovered since coming on board two weeks ago, most of those contracts were black ops, which were under-the-radar operations wholly funded by but not “sanctioned” by the government. If things went wrong, or right, for that matter, Washington fully denied any knowledge of the mission. Cap said they were run exclusively by their elite team—the six owners, all ex-SEALs, and a few specially trained ex-military operatives on staff, two former Army Rangers and three retired Marines. He also admitted that the two-year-long Mendoza case had taken its toll on his men and their families, which Angie could attest to, and they were scaling back their government work unless it once again landed in their own backyard, so to speak.

Now she wondered what special training he was referring to, but it didn’t really matter. She’d signed on with Rossi looking for a challenge, and because she was tired of the bullshit and rampant corruption at the SAPD. She also wanted to be treated as an equal among the highly trained Rossi men, which had not been the case at the department. Although a detective, she’d never been one of the guys. They threw her a bone here and there to keep her quiet, but the high-profile cases went exclusively to the men—with one exception.

She’d been involved with the Mendoza investigation solely due to Cap—demanding from more powerful men than Stapleton—that she be a part of the task-force, leaving the chief no choice except to comply. She had the opportunity, considering her dismal performance just now, to prove she was deserving of a place on Cap’s team. Whatever it was, she’d do it.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, Cap.”

His brown eyes gleamed, clearly amused by her enthusiasm. “Although I appreciate your eagerness, and it’s true you’re the only one on my staff with the unique attributes for this assignment, you probably want to wait and hear what it entails first.”

***

HAVING DELIVERED HISfugitive into police custody, T arrived at Rossi to check in. Three months on the road reminded him too much of the service, being on duty and staying alert constantly. He’d also forgotten how exhausting living out of his SUV could be, or the endless barrage of cheap motels and greasy spoons. He was glad to be home.

As he walked down the hallway, he noted the time—half past four. The place looked deserted. Although not a typical nine-to-five business, it surprised him that no one was around other than the receptionist. Everyone else must be in the field, which meant business was booming. Not a bad thing. He headed for the surveillance room, knowing someone would be there.

They monitored at least a dozen different sites at any given time, which meant they staffed the control room 24/7. Every man at Rossi put in their time by rotation; unable to stand the lack of action and sheer boredom of 8 straight hours staring at camera feeds of stairwells and exit doors, except Jack their full-time night-shift man.

Finding Rick behind the huge console was something he hadn’t expected. To his credit, the former chief warrant officer, second-in-command to Cap on their ODA, didn’t flinch when he blew through the door.

“Forget calling you Beast, we should change your nickname to Nerves of Steel.”

His friend tapped a screen showing the front entrance. “Saw you come in. Welcome back.”

T grunted as he flopped into the high-back swivel chair beside him. Living out of a duffel bag for two months straight got old, and sleeping in a strange bed, sometimes the cab of his truck, night after night was exhausting. He wasn’t sure why he’d come into the office rather than going home, grabbing a hot shower then passing out for at least twelve hours.

Rick reached out and touched one of the high-def monitors, time-stamping something he’d found notable then entering it into the surveillance log. When he went back to scanning the screens, he asked, “Productive trip?”

“I collected three skips the first month; they were a breeze. The last one had half a brain and gave me a run for my money. It was a nice change of pace.”

Out of habit—ass in a chair behind the monitors meant head in the game, eyes alert—T surveyed the usual monitored locations, Megan’s bakery, Club Decadence, and the downtown clinic where Jonas’ sub Lexie worked. All were under constant surveillance. There were other live feeds for ongoing cases. Rick quickly brought him up to speed on those. The rest of the monitors captured Rossi’s entrances and key areas.

---