Agent Dune
He unlocks the padlock on the fence and ducks under the plastic police tape he put up around the burned out lab months ago. There's nothing to be found here. He's a damn good agent, he wouldn't have missed anything. But sometimes being on a site gets the wheels turning in a new direction.
At least it gives him something physical to do. And a guy like him fucking needs to be physical. If only high-level agent work was all Jason Bourne style chases and fights. It's not. It's a helluva lot of detective work.
And it's a million times harder when your superiors won't give you all the information to work with. Find the arsonists. Cover up with the locals. Information about the purpose of the lab and the government's interest in it?
Redacted.
Fine. They didn't want to tell him? He'd figure it the fuck out. Just like he did when they left him with no resources but his own wits and a bullseye on his forehead in Afghanistan. And North Korea. And Iraq.
He has a few seconds of footage from the night of the explosions. The rest was obviously redacted. But there's a partially obscured image of a white van. A shot of a couple men. And one face he recognizes from Special Forces. Nash.
The guy he's been trying to find for years.
He figured Nash would pop up at some point on the job. Anyone who disappears that deep is still buried in government secrets. Like him.
So solving this puzzle became more interesting. More personal.
Because Nash is something different. Not human.
And Charlie needs to know what he is.
Jared
The next morning, I pull up at Angelina's in her freshly repaired Toyota. Tank was a real bro to me and got it turned around fast. I owe him one, for sure.
I climb out and knock on her door. I texted her, so she's expecting me, but when she comes to the door, she has a breathless, fluttery quality that makes me want to snatch her up into my arms and press her against the door for a kiss.
But I'm not here for kissing. I'm here for something far more distasteful. Something she wouldn't forgive me for, if she remembered it. But, of course, she won't remember.
"Hi." Her lip-glossed smile beams so bright it would melt the fresh coat of paint on her car. I'm almost wounded by it. Like it gets somewhere between the cracks in my chest and fills me too full of her all-good light.
I lean against the doorframe to keep myself from stepping into her personal space. "Hi, yourself."
She steps into mine, placing her hands on my chest and tipping her face up.
Oh fates, I'm not strong enough for this. I lower my head, but don't presume and she gives me a peck on the cheek. I'm both relieved and horrified she didn't go for my lips, because now the need to properly claim her mouth is so strong I have to take a deep breath and count to five. It's like I'm a pup again, trying to keep myself from getting into a brawl.
And my tendency to brawl is exactly one of the reasons I have to keep my mitts off this pretty little human. She's like a flower just bloomed and I'm the weed whacker that would mow her over. I know, I should leave the metaphors to the poets.
I settle for bringing my hand to her face-just briefly. I cup it and stroke my thumb along her cheekbone, my hand large and rough against her soft skin.
Her eyelids flutter, registering surprise and something else I can't read. Hell, I'm surprised, too. Tender caresses aren't usually my thing. I'm more of a hard fuck up against the wall type. Not that I'm not dying to go there with her, too.
I force myself to remove my hand and jerk my thumb toward the car. "She's all fixed up, angel. Ready to go."
She beams the thousand watt smile at me again. "Thank you. Um,"--she ducks back through the door and returns with my shirt in her hand-"Here." She thrusts it at me. "All the blood came out."
I take it from her, resisting the urge to bring it to my nose to inhale her scent on it. "You didn't have to do that, but thank you." I hesitate. I'm usually way more smooth with women, but I don't want to do what I'm about to do, so I'm stalling.
"Oh, do you, ah, want to come in?" She steps back as if to let me through.
I shake my head. "No, baby. But can you drive me back to the club? And I just need to make a short stop on the way. Okay?"
"Oh." Her eyes and mouth round. She's so damn expressive, it's a wonder she didn't end up an actress, not a dancer. "Of course! I'm sorry, I-"
"No apologies." I jerk my head toward the car. "Let's go." I smack her ass when she jogs past me with her purse slung on her shoulder. Then I instantly regret it. We're not in the nightclub and she didn't just straddle my shoulder. This is a normal day, in front of her house, and we're not even dating.
Which doesn't mean I don't watch her sexy ass sashay toward the car in front of me. "Sorry," I say. "That was out of line. I won't do it again."
"Oh good, I thought I was going to have to call some other bouncer from Eclipse to tell you hands off."
She's teasing, but the words other bouncer make my fingers curl into fists. But when she tosses a smile over her shoulder, I see she's blushing, and it does something twisty to my gut. I want to rush up behind her and catch her around the waist. Press her to her car and spank her until her ass turns the same shade of pink. Bite her neck and wrap my arms around her. And about a half dozen more lurid things.
Damn, this girl never fails to work her magic on me.