Chapter One

Leaning back in his luxurious, ergonomically designed Eames office chair, Donovan Briggs rested his laced fingers on his flat stomach and studied the monitor directly in front of him. It showed the specs of his newest creation—a drone unlike any other currently on the market.

The hacker extraordinaire narrowed his brown, almond-shaped eyes behind his glasses and reviewed the intel on the screen for what felt like the millionth time. He had a presentation scheduled with a big-wig, private financier in South America in two days. If he could convince the American billionaire who lived in Rio de Janeiro to fund the project, Donovan could manufacture a prototype. Best case scenario, the U.S. government would be interested in acquiring the sky warrior he'd developed, and Donovan could retire and ride off into the sunset with a billion or so dollars in his bank account.

Not to brag—okay, he had every right to brag—but the drone he'd designed, AKA Spectre, wasn't just some minor upgrade. It was unlike anything the world had ever seen before. His bird could do it all from spy games to jamming enemy signals to payload capacity. It could even hang in the air for more than five hours to keep an eye on the enemy. Spectre was truly the Swiss Army knife of unmanned systems, bringing a new level of intelligence and adroitness to the battlefield.

Plus, the unique cloaking device in the software made it completely undetectable by enemy radar. The drone was a veritable ghost, the name inspired by a former Navy SEAL friend who shared the nickname. Cassian Stone, better known by his call sign Ghost, was a great guy and Donovan hoped he, his wife Hailey and their twins were doing well over on the west coast.

About a year ago, Donovan had worked closely with the team of former SEALs, better known as the Blue Squadron Pirates. He was proud of his part in helping them defeat a powerful enemy behind an experiment that created super soldiers. It had been a long, hard-fought battle, but Project Phoenix had been destroyed once and for all. And it felt damn good knowing he'd been able to assist his friends in bringing the evil bastards down.

His mouth edged up as he looked down at the flash drive with all of the notes for Spectre. It had a small sticker on it—a blue skull and cross bones. The Blue Squadron pirates all had a tattoo of the image inked somewhere on their body to represent their SEAL team. As a gag gift, the team had made the stickers and when he'd been out, they'd snuck into his apartment and stuck the small blue skull stickers fucking everywhere. Thousands of them. He was still finding the damn things a year later in the most random places. But, whenever he did, it always made him laugh. They'd told him he was their honorary brother, even if they hadn't served together, and a pirate just like them.

Over the past year, they'd all grown extremely close and it felt good belonging to a brotherhood of men who had his back no matter what. Donovan had met Jericho "Trip" Strong first. They'd gone through BUD/S and Parachute Jump School together back in the day. While Jericho had been invited to become an elite member of DEVGRU, Donovan's path had led him off the battlefield and he'd worked as a Navy Intelligence Officer, utilizing his computer skills and keen ability to dig deep and uncover information.

Donovan's intelligence career had been challenging in a different kind of way and he'd enjoyed it thoroughly. But, after twelve years, he wanted more and decided to separate from the Navy. He made a good living as a freelance security analyst, but the technology he just developed with this drone could make a name for himself. Something his family of overachievers believed to be impossible unless it involved a career in medicine or law.

And the potential fortune meant he'd never have to work again. At least not for anyone but himself.

Reaching for his mug of coffee, he took a sip of the strong brew and contemplated his current situation. These days, he rarely left the dark, cool confines of his tech cave. Surrounded by monitors, the constant hum of the air conditioning unit and the beat of techno music thumping in the background, he was in his element. His happy place.

Lately, however, his happy place was feeling a little…lonely.

It's the only word he could think of to describe what he was feeling. But, he preferred to keep his interactions with actual people and the outside world at a minimum. The level of stupidity out there gave him a headache most days, and his preferred method of social interaction was online gaming and in virtual chat rooms.

That was all good until it was time to go to sleep and he would crawl into his big, empty bed alone. He hadn't dated anyone in over a year. Not since Olivia. And, while it had started out great with her, she'd dumped him after six or seven months because she said he never made her a priority. He frowned and tapped a finger on his thigh. No, scratch that. It had almost been a year because she'd broken up with him right before he flew to San Diego to celebrate defeating Project Phoenix with the team.

Thinking back about how he was never around or there for her, maybe Olivia had a right to be annoyed. In his defense, though, he'd been consumed by saving his friends' lives and in the middle of creating the drone. But she didn't like that. Olivia wanted to hang out constantly, and spending an entire evening sitting on the couch watching some dumbass chick flick was a waste of his precious time. They began to fight, he started avoiding her and then she broke it off.

Did he blame her? No. He'd be the first to admit, he was a terrible boyfriend. The absolute worst.

Maybe it was because he'd never had a good role model when it came to that kind of thing. His parents were divorced and didn't exactly set the standard for relationships. Growing up in a conservative, uptight family who believed the only way to succeed involved years of schooling followed by an internship and then a prestigious career as a lawyer—his father—or as a surgeon—his mother—drove him a little bonkers. He loved them dearly but couldn't spend an excessive amount of time in their presence. Since they were workaholics, it really wasn't an issue. Even so, every time he saw one of his parents, it always led to the same conversation about him getting older and not having stable employment that ensured a generous 401K along with medical and dental insurance.

His little sister didn't help matters, either. Stella had her doctorate and taught physics at MIT. Insert eyeroll.

No doubt about it—his family was a bunch of brainiacs who'd rather talk shop than feelings. The apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree. The only difference was Donovan thought outside the box.

With a sigh, he pulled his silky, dark hair back and secured it in a low ponytail. He'd almost cut it all off last year until Olivia told him how much he reminded her of Keanu Reeves. Although he would like to attribute it to being a badass, he knew it was more than likely due to his Asian-American heritage with Hawaiian roots.

After hearing that, he decided to leave it alone and embrace his John Wick resemblance. At least for the time being. And, of course, minus the suit, dog and unquenchable desire for revenge. Donovan had been trained how to fight and kill. And though he was decent with weapons, he'd certainly never killed anyone with just a pencil. Nor did he want to. Close-quarters combat wasn't his jam.

Drumming his fingers, studying the screen intently, he was about to make an additional note when his cell phone rang. Donovan glanced down at the caller ID and saw Jericho's name flashing.

"Trip," he said in greeting. "What up, bro?"

"Hey, D," Jericho responded in his easy, laidback way. "Thunder and I are going to be in the Big Apple next week. Wanna grab a beer with us? Vain will be there, too."

Deacon "Thunder" Keller and Aidan "Vain" Wolf were part of the pirates and great guys. All three of them had met their perfect matches and gotten married over the past year. A part of Donovan envied them and yearned for that same kind of normalcy and companionship. But another part of him didn't. The last thing he wanted was another Olivia who would nag him about spending too much time behind his monitors. He enjoyed his work, especially when it came to developing new software and ideas. But those things didn't happen overnight. It took endless hours of hard work, and that was something she'd never appreciated.

"I guess I could pull myself away from my cave for a couple of hours," Donovan relented.

"How often do you get out?" Jericho joked.

"Just enough to know I'm happier here in my tech domain," he answered. "Actually, I'm flying down to Rio this weekend for a meeting."

"Rio, really? That could be fun. Isn't it Carnival now?"

"Yeah, but I want nothing to do with that chaos," Donovan assured him. "I developed something uber cool and I'm meeting with a potential investor."

"Nice. Just don't forget there's more to life than your computers."

"So I hear," Donovan commented dryly.

"We're all meeting up next Saturday night. Fair warning—if you try to bail, we're gonna come over and drag you out of there, kicking and screaming. Force your ass to be social."

Donovan had no doubt he'd do it and decided to take the easy way. "Alright, alright. I'll be there. Satisfied?"

"We will come break down your door if you give us any grief," Jericho assured him.

"I know."

"Okay, good. And have fun in Rio. I hear that city is wild."

"I don't have time for anything except my meeting and preparing for it."

"We both know you're already prepared and can recite your pitch backwards, forwards and sideways. Probably upside down, too."

Jericho was right. Donovan knew exactly what he was going to say and he was prepared to answer any potential question. He lived and breathed everything tech and this drone he'd developed was his baby.

"All I'm saying is keep an open mind and maybe leave your hotel for an hour. Go take a walk over to a topless beach. Or dance with a hot, mysterious woman in the street. Everyone is going to be out partying."

Donovan rolled his eyes. "You may be happily married with a kid, but, man, you never change, Trip."

"That's because I'm a cool dad." In the background, Donovan heard a little girl start crying. "Gotta go! Delilah just fell. Hold on sweetheart, Daddy's coming!"

"Aww, okay. Love to Syd and Baby D. I'll see you next Saturday."

"Absolutely."

Donovan knew Jericho's advice to get out and see Rio while he was down there was solid, but he also knew himself all too well. He shook his head and chuckled as the call disconnected, knowing the probability of him dancing in the street with a stranger during Carnival was slim to none. Actually, it was zero. First he didn't dance. And, second, he didn't plan to leave his room other than to attend the meeting and travel back and forth to the airport.

Hell, had he always been this boring?

Maybe when he got back, he'd create a dating profile. Try his luck meeting a fellow workaholic who lived in the city. They could spend time together every couple of weeks and text in between.

Yep, it's official, he thought. I don't have one romantic bone in my body.

Pushing thoughts of romance to the back of his mind, Donovan took a drink of coffee and went over the drone specs again. He still had time to pack a duffel bag to carry on the flight with him, especially since he planned to travel light. There was no reason to bring many clothes because he'd only be gone for a long weekend, two days of which would be traveling. Most importantly, he didn't trust checking luggage. His biggest nightmare would be it getting lost somewhere along the way.

Normally, he avoided flights with a layover, but this time he didn't have an option. He'd be flying into S?o Paulo first where he'd catch a connecting flight to Rio. The entire trip would take about thirteen hours, but flying had never bothered him and there was always work to do.

During his short stint with the teams and then when he worked intel, he'd flown all over the world. He would pop his earbuds in and listen to the beat of techno as he worked on the plane. Travel didn't have to mean downtime, and he planned to make the best possible use of his time while stuck in his seat. However, even the occasional wrench got thrown into the best-laid plans. But he was a quick-thinker and problem-solver.

Currently, he was on track to impress his potential investor and begin building his design.

And nothing was going to make him veer from that path. Besides, it was just a long weekend trip—what could possibly happen in only a few days?