Chapter 2

In the months I'd worked at Z Corps I learned to read my boss. Or rather, I'd learned to read what he purposely showed. If Zane Lewis didn't want you to know what he was thinking, he closed down in a way that was impenetrable.

His mood had shifted from annoyed but curious to DEFCON 1 in the blink of an eye.

I studied the file folders on the screen. Other than the one marked Raven none of them registered as dangerous.

Raven was the company that Bridget had worked for. She'd turned her boss in for selling the plans for a micro-drone the company was developing under contract with the CIA to some unsavory characters. We already knew that Charlie Michaels had invested millions into the UAV company and had lost that money when Raven went bankrupt. That was the whole reason Nebraska was here. To ensure that Charlie wasn't looking for payback.

"I take it you know who Maddon Judd is?" Nebraska Michaels asked.

I had to hand it to the woman. She hadn't cowered under Zane's obvious unwelcoming attitude.

"Who the fuck are you?" Zane growled, taking the current DEFCON rating to nuclear.

"It's not who I am that matters. It's who my Father—"

Zane didn't let her finish her explanation. "Are you referring to the man who adopted you or your biological father?"

What the fuck?

My gaze swung to Nebraska in time to see her eyes narrowing on Zane.

"Am I supposed to be impressed you know Charlie's not my birth father?"

I glanced around the table. All eyes were on Nebraska.

Jonas, Smith, Cash, and Layla were all studying her. Kira stared at her screen, her lips twitching.

"Are we starting with the Raven file or Maddon Judd or…" Kira paused and blinked at her laptop screen. "The Candy Apples file."

I heard Cash snicker, then he muttered, "Vintage."

Kira's brows pulled together and she shook her head. "I don't get it."

"Candy Apples versus King Dong," Cash educated her. When Kira didn't register understanding, he went on. "In the late nineties, Candy Apples held the gangbang world record—"

"Candy Apples is a porn star?"

"I can't take credit for that one," Zane started with a grin.

"That one?" Kira pushed.

"A good friend of mine taught me that trick. There's something satisfying knowing the stick-up-their-asses suits are reading briefs with their lips curled in disgust."

"Are you saying you name your operations after porn stars?" Kira said through a laugh.

"Unofficially."

"How did I not know that?" Kira went on smiling huge. "That's brilliant. I wanna choose a name."

Of course she did. Kira was Zane's mini-me. Though it'd shock the shit out of me if sweet Kira could rattle off adult film star names without the help of the internet.

I glanced over at Nebraska. Her expression was bland but those gorgeous eyes of hers looked like they were dancing with amusement. She wanted to smile like the rest of the people in the room but she wouldn't allow herself. Since we'd left her father's house she'd been all business, careful words, fake rehearsed smiles, no hint of a personality. She was watchful, guarded, alert in a way that stated plain it was habit.

But there was an underlying wariness. She almost looked tired, and fuck if I didn't understand that. Ten years being on constant guard, years before that always being on high-alert, never knowing when or from where a threat would strike. It was the kind of tiredness that seeped into your bones until you forgot it wasn't normal to be strung so tight there was a real possibility you'd snap.

Nebraska's gaze shifted around the table, cataloging each person in the room. I'd bet my cushy new job the woman knew exactly who we were. Further, I'd put my townhouse, truck, and bike up that she'd done her homework and had a full dossier on each of us. Her glances weren't curious, they were knowing. And when her gaze stopped on me, I knew I was right.

Time to test my theory.

"Not sure your man would be best pleased you perusin' PornHub, Seven," I joined, using Kira's callsign.

Nebraska's eyes went straight to Kira before they dropped to the table.

Too late.

Zane caught her fuckup, too. I knew it when his study of Nebraska became acute.

"Time to start talking, Miss Michaels."

"Where would you like me to start, Mr. Lewis?" Nebraska returned snidely.

Christ.

The woman must have a death wish.

"You can start by remembering you're here because I was curious what Charlie Michaels needed help with. That curiosity was more amusement than actual interest. I don't make a habit of helping criminals out of tight spots. I certainly don't entertain men who make threats against women who are under my protection. But now that we've established you're an Agency lackey, spit it out so I can tell you no and you can get on your way."

Smith's fingers drummed on the table across from me. This was so unlike him I gave him my full attention. He was the quietest, always watching, listening. Then when the planning was over he was the one to point out any flaws or oversights. Not only was Smith the best tracker we had, he was also scary brilliant when it came to strategy.

"You look familiar," he murmured. "I can't place it, but I know I've seen you before."

Without hesitation or prevacation Nebraska returned, "Brazil."

Smith nodded.

"Fortaleza?"

"Bahia," she corrected. "Vitória da Conquista during the riot."

What the actual fuck? Brazil was Smith's last assignment for Patheon before we wrapped up and handed everything we had to Layla's CIA contact.

"Jesus. Fuck me running," Zane cursed low and slow. "No need to explain why you're here. The answer isn't no, it's a fuck no. Go home, tell Charlie to keep his business out of mine and we'll forget he pulled this bullshit. He so much as whispers Bridget Keller's name I'll unleash Theo. If that's not incentive enough, which it should be, explain to your father Theo won't be alone and the last time I had to take time out of my day to go out into the field, it got messy."

Kira leaned close to Layla. "Is that what he calls breaking his tooth off biting someone's throat?"

One could say my first in-person encounter with Zane Lewis was something straight out of a horror flick. Through the years, I'd heard whispered stories, tall tales that sounded more like myths than truth. Finding Zane in the basement of a house during a rescue operation proved those tales were indeed myths—the man was far, far more dangerous than any story I'd ever heard about him.

My introduction to Zane Lewis was one of the most grotesque of my life, and that was saying something after spending ten years in the most impoverished, crime-ridden cities in the world. The man had been covered in blood, and yes, he'd been missing a tooth. His captor lay dead at his feet, looking like he'd been mauled by a lion. I'd never asked straight out if he'd torn the dead man's throat out with his teeth. Partly because I didn't want to know, mostly because I respected Zane and a man had to do what a man had to do to get himself out of a hostile situation. Thus, it made no difference to me how he'd freed himself.

But it had been gory and brutal.

And it would seem Zane had passed this particular trait down to his nephews. Linc's sons Robbie and Asher had a bad habit of sneaking into the conference room and hiding under the table to eavesdrop. Their mother Jasmin called this recon training—I guess that's what you got when two top-shelf operators bred. Another example of that would be the random and frequent Nerf gun wars.

However, Jasmin wasn't happy with her boys when they'd snuck in before an important meeting with the Marshals assigned to protecting Bridget. The meeting went south when one of those Marshals proved to be on the take and pulled a gun and took Kira hostage. The man holding Kira at gunpoint had stepped too close to the table. One of the boys took this as his opportunity to play hero and savagely bit the man's calf. The pain and shock took his attention, giving us the opening we needed to take him down without him shooting Kira in the head in the process.

Since neither boy ratted out the other, that proved biting wasn't the only thing they got from their uncle but also his unwavering loyalty. Zane had christened them Cujo and Chewy.

Nebraska brought the conversation back to why she was there. "If you'll look at the Raven file, you'll understand Charlie is no threat—"

"Don't need to look at a file to know Charlie Michaels is not now nor will he ever be a threat," Zane cut her off. "You can leave now."

Nebraska nodded and pushed back from the table.

That was it?

She came all this way and was giving up?

For reasons I didn't want to explore, that disappointed me.

When she took to her feet she glanced around the table one more time, stopping on Layla to warn, "You can't trust Ashcroft with this."

It was then an already tense situation turned twitchy. The air in the room went stagnant and the temperature fell by a few degrees at Nebraska's outrageous claim.

Inspector General Ashcroft had been the man behind Patheon, or at least the man who had given Layla approval for building the team. As soon as Ashcroft and Layla approached Cash, Smith, Jonas, and myself we quit the CIA and went rogue under Layla's leadership. Implying Ashcroft couldn't be trusted wasn't offensive, it was a disrespect no one in the room would stand for.

"I suggest you use the door before you can't," Zane growled.

Nebraska didn't heed Zane's warning. Maybe she had a backbone after all.

"Maddon has a lot of friends. He's been with the Agency a long time. Well beyond when he should've retired. However, his global contacts make him invaluable. I'm not suggesting Ashcroft isn't trustworthy, I'm saying Maddon's network is such that you shouldn't trust anyone outside this building with what's on that drive."

All eyes were on Nebraska, but Smith's stare was different. If I didn't know any better I'd say it was laced with a tinge of respect.

Zane, being Zane, didn't miss this either.

"Do you have something to add, Smith?"

My teammate glanced at our boss before he went back to Nebraska.

"Why were you at the prison?" Smith inquired.

I wasn't tracking his question, but obviously, Nebraska understood.

Again, without hesitation, she answered.

"I needed to see Paulo Alves. I got word that two members of the PCC were planning to escape before they were transferred. That escape plan included a riot. Chaos is the greatest distraction. I slipped in, did my business, and slipped back out."

"You mean you slit his throat," Smith returned.

Nebraska held Smith's stare as she answered, "Like I said, business."

"Do you want to know why I was there?"

"I don't waste time asking questions I know the answers to," Nebraska quickly replied, hitching the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. "Now, I'll see myself out."

"Easton will walk you down," Zane countered.

With a dip of her chin, Nebraska wasted no time making her way to the door.

"That's it?" Zane's voice boomed.

Slowly and fully composed, Nebraska turned back to face the room but stayed where she was.

"I don't know what you're used to, Mr. Lewis, but I don't beg. Not anyone. Not for anything."

Nebraska's pretty blue eyes flashed through my mind. The next thought came on the heels of the first—only, those eyes were now staring at me, hazed over with desire, and those perfect lips begging.

"Not even when your father's life is on the line?" Zane pushed.

That garnered a reaction, though it was nothing more than a slight movement in her shoulders.

"I'm my father's daughter," she evenly stated, giving nothing away. "One of the many lessons he taught me—know when to cut your losses and never, but never, give someone the upper hand. Pleading with you would give you just that. Begging you to do the right thing would only serve your ego. I'm not interested in feeding you a line of bullshit just as you have no interest in eating it. So, yes, that's it. Also, yes, even if my father's life is on the line. But if you think you're the only man who has threatened his life straight to my face? I hate to break it to you, Viper; you're not the first, and you most certainly won't be the last."

With that she turned and left the room with her shoulders back and her head held high.

I wasn't sure if I was impressed or if I thought she was insane.

What I did know was, I was fascinated.