Page 55 of Dangerous Mission
The sooner this job is over the better.
Luckily, when we roll onto the secondary road near the cave entrance it’s a shit show that requires my full attention.
The feds are already on site. Trucks and SUVs are stuffed into the ditch on both sides of the road. People in tactical gear are milling around. A makeshift operational base has been set up.
“No cops as expected.” Rory half grins. “Glad we’re not dealing with Chief Willometa any more.”
“Crooked bastard,” I mutter. “I just hope the feds are on the up and up now that they’re all up in our business.”
He studies the scene through the windshield, quiet and calculating. “You think they’re not?”
“I’m just a suspicious bastard. I like all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed and I don’t know who all the players are now. I do think Agent Torres is one of the good guys.”
“He’s still a fed.”
Rory casts a glance my way, and I wonder again why a team of former Russian military guys are in Vandemora. But I won’t fault their help. They were key in helping us deal with Marianna’s trouble and cracking the illegal operations involving the local police chief wide open.
Without another word, the stone-faced bastard exits the truck and heads to the rear to start unloading gear.
I make the mistake of glancing in the rear view mirror. “I’m coming around to open your door.”
Aria, who has been tensely quiet since our eyes met in the mirror, looks royally displeased. “Why?”
“Because that’s what men do.”
She grumbles and sighs, “Oh, brother. King Scout and his rules…”
But she waits on me, and that makes me feel strangely happy. Happier than it should.
I’ve always worked to be a gentleman, not that I had a role model. Exact opposite actually, but there were enough men around to show me how a woman should be treated.
When I swing the rear passenger door open, Aria’s eyes are set, her jaw is tight. There’s a strength in her spine.
She looks at me pointedly. “Let’s get to work.”
Sexy AF. I like her in this mode.
Hell, I like her ineverymode.
I keep my hands very far away from her, but I don’t let her out of the truck. Instead, I lean my forearm on the top edge of the door. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
She nods, glances beyond me. “Yes. I’m sorry for all the drama. Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready.”
She suppresses a small grin. “Alright King. Let’s get this done.”
“Memphis,” I say before I can understand why it feels important to tell her this.
She pauses. Thinks. “Is that where you’re from?”
I shove my hands into my front pockets. Why does my face feel like I got too close to a damned campfire?
A sound rumbles through my chest and I think about changing the subject. “No. That’s my name.”
This time when she raises her gaze to mine, it’s softer. “I like it. Memphis. That’s nice”
“Well, it wasn’t an easy name as a kid. Appreciate having a nickname.”