Page 30 of Black and Brown

The team erupted in a round of cheers and high-fives.

Mirage pfft’d under his breath.

Grace did an about-face and walked out the door, leaving the team members to celebrate.

Mirage followed, this time at his side.

“They look like a capable bunch,” he said, then pushed the elevator button for their floor.

Once inside the small compartment, Grace turned and stared down at him. He spoke in a voice that was as dark as his eyes, his words rough and grating.

“We’ll see.”

Grace’s tone was hotter than a blue flame. One that sent heat streaking down Mirage’s spine.

Mirage

Five years later

Valdivian Rainforest

La Araucaria Region, Chile

South America

“I have movement. Multiple vehicles approaching.”

“Confirm target.”

Seconds of silence went by that turned into minutes.

“Confirm. Target,” Grace repeated.

Mirage chuckled under his breath.

“Adding bass in your voice won’t make the confirmation come any faster.”

“Spectre,” Grace growled.

“I understand you’ve been in that ceiling for four hours, but if you can’t withstand extreme boredom, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong line of work,” Mirage answered dryly through the comms.

Mirage was six hundred yards away, perched on a rain-slick branch, eighty feet above the forest floor. His camouflage fatigues helped him blend into the damp vines and moss of an evergreen tree.

His eye was an inch away from the scope of his SAKO sniper rifle. He kept his finger poised over the trigger and his left hand clutching the stock.

It hadn’t been easy to get into position with the almost four-foot-long weapon. The mono and bipod were braced on two branches while he sat nestled in a semi-enclosed cavity, with an angry male baboon watching him from a few limbs over.

As long as it didn’t move, he was safe. But Mirage kept his bowie knife unsheathed and resting on his thigh. If the baboon shifted to strike, Mirage would remove its head, let the body drop to the ground, and return to his position without a second thought.

The intense humidity made sweat drip down his temples and beneath the high collar of his camouflage jacket.

Grace growled harder, sending a warm vibration through Mirage’s ear canal and down his damp throat.

He could imagine Spectre rolling his dark eyes at Grace’s bitching.

“The convoy stopped, but no further activity. Awaiting visual. Stand. Fuckin’. By. Grace.”

Mirage tried soothing his partner’s impatience.