Page 28 of Parker

Aware of Mason’s disapproval, Parker stepped in front of the awaiting exit and looked outside. His scanning gaze finding the blacked-out GMC Yukon Denali Asher said would be here.

A cool Chicago breeze blew past, the sudden chill a reminder that he’d left his jacket at home.

Damn.

He’d been sitting on one of six wooden sun loungers strategically positioned around the pool built into the lower level of his expansive back deck when Jinx had finally called. With temps in the low seventies, his plain, olive-green T, worn jeans, and mocha suede and leather boots had been perfectly fine.

Of course, once the same sweet voice he’d longed to hear came through his phone, all logical thoughts went out the fucking window. There was only one thought then. And only one thought now…

Jinx needs me.

“I’ll call with an update as soon as I can.” Parker looked at a man he considered a friend.

Consummate professional that he was, Mason gave him a curt nod and a no-nonsense, “I’ll have the jet re-fueled and ready to go.”

“Thanks, Mason.” Parker slapped his trusted employee’s bulging bicep. Taking that first step, Parker stopped to give the other man a parting reminder. “I don’t have a lot of details yet, so keep your phone close.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Parker, Mase.” He shook his head with a smirk. “I swear, one of these days, Iwillget you to call me Parker.”

“If you say so, Sir.”

Parker’s smile started to grow, but as he made his way down the steep staircase, his lips fell back to the same worried line he’d worn the entire flight here.

Because hewasworried. And the concern he felt for Jinx would continue until he could see with his own eyes that she really was okay.

I’m here, sweetheart. Just a little longer and you’ll be safe.

Making his way to the slick-looking SUV, Parker felt a little punch to his steps. Not because he expected his fantasy to come true, but because—possible physical attraction aside—he cared about her.

And she needed him.

Full fucking stop.

The driver’s side door opened and a tall, obviously fit man with tattoos covering the full length of his left arm climbed out. Parker recognized him from one of the files Asher had emailed just before take-off.

Christian Hunt.

Thirty-four- year-old former Navy corpsman and current leader of RISC’s new Delta Team. A man Asher Cross had vouched for without hesitation.

Having used the emailed files as a distraction, Parker had read through each one carefully. There were six in total—one for each member of RISC’s Delta Team.

If he’d had the choice, he would have rather had Asher’s team watching his and Jinx’s backs. But when he’d called Ash to cash in one of many owed favors, the sniper had regrettably been forced to decline.

Apparently, Charlie Team had been called up unexpectedly for a gig overseas. From what Asher had shared during their short conversation, it was slated to be an in-and-out job, and he and the others planned to be back in a couple of days.

Max.

Since Jinx couldn’t wait that long—and since she was in the same city as Hunt’s team—Asher had put a call into Delta. Thankfully, the newest RISC operatives had been more than willing to step up.

“Collins, I presume.”

“And you must be Hunt.” Parker came to a stop in front of the other man. With a mutual shake of hands, he added a sincere, “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem.” A set of dark eyes wiser than their years met his.

The front passenger door opened, and a second man appeared. Parker recognized him as one of Delta Team’s two former SEALS.

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