Dangerous Pursuit (OSI Dark Ops #3)

CHAPTER NINE

Lucas and the rest of the team sat around a long, rectangular table in the back corner of Locals Only. The bar was closed tonight, but Felix insisted on feeding them. Several baskets of chicken wing bones littered the table, alongside bottles of sauces of varying sizes, shapes, and degrees of hotness. The giant onion rings with Felix’s secret recipe dipping sauce had been a big hit, as were the platefuls of shepherd’s pie.

High-energy people like those around the table required a massive intake of calories. What surprised him was the way Calliope kept up with them. Where she put all of that food was a mystery to him.

Clockwise around the table from him were Jonathan, then Hawk; Cole was at the opposite end, then came Viking, Calliope, and Eddie.

She didn’t seem to mind being sandwiched between them. Actually, there didn’t seem to be much that bothered her .

Lucas had been surprised by his disappointment when she hadn’t sat closer to him. And without meaning for it to, his gaze continued to slide over to her.

Calliope was such a bundle of energy and stark contrasts that she was hard to ignore.

Unlike most snipers who were perpetually still and quiet, she was in a near-constant state of motion, whether it was her hands wildly fluttering around as she smack-talked one of her teammates or relived an old op, or the way her knee bobbed up and down as she listened to someone else.

She was small—no more than five-one or five-two—with huge, light blue eyes that drew him like iron to a magnet. He caught himself grinning at the way those adorable blond pigtails of hers swung around her head when she looked from one teammate to the next. No doubt an intentional style choice designed to throw people off.

He’d love to know how many people had underestimated her and paid the price for doing so. And how in the hell had someone who looked like a college cheerleader become a sniper?

His eyes lowered to a few wisps of hair that had fallen free and gotten stuck in the sweat on the side of her neck. Felix didn’t like air-conditioning—he believed a few well-placed box fans were good enough. Their low hum provided a constant background of white noise. With the air heavy with humidity and the temp hovering in the mid-nineties, it would be stifling to most people. Calliope either didn’t care or didn’t notice, and she didn’t come off as the type of woman who worried much about her looks. Then again, she didn’t really need to—she had a natural, peaches-and-cream kind of all-American beauty that no amount of sweat or dirt could diminish.

Speaking of …

A bead of sweat crawled down from her temple, past her ear, and hung on the edge of her jaw. Without missing a beat in her story, she lifted her shoulder and wiped away the annoyance.

“Lucas?” Jonathan’s deep voice found its way through his stare-fest.

The way he looked at him led Lucas to believe his cousin might’ve tried to get his attention a few times.

“What’s up?” Lucas lifted his large plastic cup of what used to be iced tea and took a long swallow.

No booze for him tonight—he was flying first thing in the morning. Besides, this fascinating group of people was a great—albeit temporary—distraction that held the demons at bay. Demons that would surely catch up to him later, when he was alone.

Jonathan looked from him to Calliope and back. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

“She’s a pistol.” He downed the last of his tea.

“Yeah, it took some doing to get her to come work for us.” He explained how her dad and granddad had been the ones to convince her to accept their offer. “She was totally worth the effort, though.”

“What’s her story?” Lucas played it cool—just a guy chatting with his cousin. “Was she in the military or work for the government or something?”

“Actually, neither.” Jonathan kept his voice low so their conversation stayed between them. “We heard there was a woman outshooting all of the men in matches all over the US and Canada. Beck, Cole, and I decided to check it out. We were shocked and absolutely blown away by her skill.” He leaned close. “She smoked every guy there. She also holds the second-longest recorded shot at a little over seven thousand yards.”

“Holy shit.” He quickly calculated the distance in his head. “That’s almost four miles.”

“Yep.” Jonathan nodded.

Lucas gave a low whistle between his teeth. “Impressive.” He snuck a quick peek to make sure she was still focused on her teammates. “Where the hell did she learn to shoot like that?”

“Her dad and granddad were both snipers and taught her everything they know,” Jonathan said. “And don’t let her looks fool you. She had a nearly feral upbringing in the swamps of southwest Florida, and there’s not much that scares her.”

“Okay, sure, but you must still worry about her, right?” Lucas glanced over at her. She now sat crossed-legged on the chair and looked so small surrounded by all of her much larger teammates. “I mean, you guys get into some dangerous shit.”

“I don’t worry about her any more or less than I do anyone else who works for us.” Jonathan set his cup down. “Andi proved to me that being a woman in our line of work is not a liability. At times, it can actually be an asset.”

Lucas felt strangely protective of Calliope but quickly told himself he would feel that way about any woman in this business.

“Word of advice?” Jonathan continued. “I would not let on that you’re worried about her or that you have doubts about her ability to do her job. She just might kick your ass, and you’ll never see it coming.”

“Beck gave me pretty much the same warning.” Even so, thinking of Calliope going up against a guy his size made Lucas’s skin itch.

“She’s proven herself in the field many times, and from what Cole has told me, it’s important to her that her teammates treat her like one of the guys.” Jonathan lifted his water glass and took a couple of long gulps.

One of the guys? Impossible.

Calliope might act tough on the outside, but he got the sense there was more going on behind that biting tongue and big personality of hers. He’d love to know what that was.

Shit .

His strange yearning to be around her and to absorb her upbeat energy made him feel like he was cheating on Norah. And that wasn’t fair to Calliope. And the way he kept looking at her, combined with the inappropriate thoughts that had begun to slip into his head, meant it was way past time to go.

“Well, I’m headed out.” He shoved back his chair, stood, and pointed from Eddie to Calliope. “I’ll pick you two up at ten hundred hours for the flyover.”

“We’ll be ready.” Eddie bumped his shoulder to Calliope’s. “Won’t we, wifey-poo?”

“You bet, sugar britches.” Calliope lifted her chin and smiled up at Lucas. “You’d better hurry home and get to bed. Looks like you’re way behind on your beauty sleep.”

Lucas couldn’t prevent the laugh that burst free. Fuckin’ A , this woman was a piece of work. He’d genuinely smiled and laughed more in the few hours he’d been around her than he had in almost three years.

Yeah, he definitely needed to get the hell out of there.

He said goodbye to the rest of the team and headed over to the bar.

Felix set a glass in the hot, soapy water and dried his hands as he walked over to him. “Headin’ out?”

“Yeah.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and tugged out a bunch of cash. “This ought to cover the tab.” He set the bills on the bar and slid them toward Felix .

“Don’t insult me, mate.” Felix scowled down at the money and crossed his arms.

“Thanks, Felix.” Lucas gathered up the bills and tucked them away.

His friend gave him a questioning look. “You good?”

“You kiddin’?” He scoffed. “I’m always good.”

Lucas patted the bar a couple of times and turned toward the hallway leading to the back lot. Behind him, Calliope laughed at something, and he quickened his steps before giving in to the temptation to return to the table.

Too soon, he was back at his bungalow.

Alone.

He stalked over to the small kitchen, dropped his keys into a hollowed-out coconut shell on the counter, and yanked open the fridge door. He grabbed a can of soda, popped the top, and guzzled half the contents. It was a sorry substitute for scotch and would do nothing to keep the nightmares from encroaching upon his sleep. But he had a strict rule—no alcohol within twelve hours of flying. The last thing he wanted to do was fuck up while behind the stick.

Lucas finished off the soda, crushed the can with his hand, and tossed it in a bin in the corner. He walked over, grabbed the picture of Norah off the bookshelf, and carried it over to the couch and plopped down. There was a time he would spend hours staring at it, even talking to it, as if doing so would bring her back to him. Recently, he’d begun to worry when he realized he’d actually gone several days without even looking at the photo.

What did that mean? Was he forgetting her? He rubbed at his chest to relieve the physical ache the thought elicited and that made him want to forget his rule about not drinking.

Lucas smoothed his thumb over the photo and set the frame on the coffee table. He leaned back on the couch and let his head fall against the cushion. This time, when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t Norah’s face he saw.

Nope.

It was a certain adorable, smart-alecky sniper who, without even trying, had wormed her way into his thoughts.