Black and Brown: Raven Assassins (Ravens #1)

Chapter Twenty-nine

Mirage

Mirage didn’t get much sleep.

He’d tossed and turned for several hours, then dozed off thirty minutes before his alarm sounded for the debriefing.

He wasn’t concerned. The mission had been a success. Their track record was impeccable, and the department was considering them for more high-priority cases…perilous cases.

He hoped that wasn’t why Grace was changing their strategy in the field, like on the last mission.

Grace was a far better sniper than him, but since the measly quarter mile was an insult to his skills, Grace had reasoned that Mirage should handle the long-distance elimination and had chosen to enter the safe house himself…alone.

That wasn’t how they operated.

Mirage could’ve used his daggers to take out the guards outside and remained chest-to-back with Grace like they were supposed to.

But instead, he’d had to sit in a goddamn tree for hours, balancing a heavy-ass, four-foot rifle. He’d been in more danger from the wildlife than the weak cartel they were after.

It’d been smart of him to tell Spectre they were ready for their biannual training.

Once Grace was reminded of how flawless and effective they were together , it’d help put his mind at ease.

Mirage dressed in loose charcoal slacks and an ivory cashmere sweater with a soft, oversized hood.

He stood in his den staring out the window until five minutes before their scheduled debriefing. He opened his door, not surprised when Grace opened his at the same time.

They held eye contact for a charged moment, his partner reflecting a mask of coldness back at him.

Mirage read Grace’s frigid expression as if it were his favorite novel.

What the hell is he so anxious about? This energy is annoying me.

Grace severed the connection and headed toward the elevators.

Mirage was tempted to slap him in the back of the head, but Grace would just see it coming and counter the blow.

He positioned himself behind Grace, an inch to his right.

Six years later, Grace’s earthy smell of leather and sweet vanilla still hit him so hard that Mirage had to concentrate to breathe past it.

They got onto the elevator, but Grace didn’t press the button to their wing of the building, appearing trapped and standing as rigid as a statue.

“Relax your shoulders, Grace,” Mirage whispered in the confined space.

It looked like his partner tried, but it didn’t work.

Mirage lifted his hand to touch Grace’s shoulder, but his wrist was clutched before his palm could make contact.

Mirage crept closer and lowered his voice.

“Let me touch you.”

Grace slowly placed Mirage’s hand atop his shoulder and lowered his arm.

Mirage pressed into a few spots at the base of Grace’s neck, but he couldn’t get to where he needed to because of the armored trench.

Careful not to overstep, Mirage curled his fingers under the collar and inched the coat down Grace’s broad shoulders, enough for him to reach the problem area.

He palpitated several muscles, noting the tension along Grace’s traps and the trigger points at the tip of his spine.

Mirage knew every inch of his partner’s body, which was why he was able to throw his blades around Grace and never miss a target.

“I can fix this.”

Grace hummed, giving him his approval.

He pulled at the hem of Grace’s Henley and slid his hands up his back, grazing his palms over hot skin.

Mirage closed his eyes, not stopping his caress until his fingertips felt the atlas and axis between the skull and spine.

Grace was still and barely breathing, but Mirage knew he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared.

With his other hand, he cupped Grace’s stubbled chin and turned his head until their gazes were all that mattered in the moment.

Those damn hypnotic eyes lowered to Mirage’s mouth, and before they could distract him, he jerked Grace’s neck an inch higher and snapped his fingers in a fast pattern along his spine, jolting the muscles.

It was done so fast that it was as shocking as it was painless.

Grace released a long groan. It reverberated through Mirage’s chest.

Grace rotated his neck as Mirage eased his shirt down and slid his trench back over his shoulders.

He pushed the button for the floor to the conference rooms, then eased back, allowing the silence to soothe the electricity crackling between them.