Page 35 of Black and Brown

But he’d ignored his gut and went along with what Meridian asked them to do.

The Black Ravens were not the kind of assassins who needed help.

But he and Mirage were asked to make quick work of some bodies for Meridian, and they’d done as he’d ordered.

A second before Meridian’s partner rappelled from the roof, they left before Ex could see them.

However, something had whispered in Grace’s mind for him to go back.

He’d told Mirage to stay concealed while he circled around to make sure everything was good.

Even now, Grace couldn’t believe what he’d witnessed through the skylights of the gutted warehouse. And if Meridian hadn’t been so distracted, he would’ve noticed Grace was watching them.

He’d stared transfixed as Ex straddled Meridian’s lap, then kissed and caressed him, shifting his mind to a place it shouldn’t have been able to go.

Since that day, Grace had been far quieter and more detached than usual…and very hyperaware of Mirage.

Grace shook his head to clear his rogue thoughts, then turned the shower to hot, leaving the cold tap untouched.

The steam filled the large room, and he got in, tilting his head forward, allowing the scalding water to do its job.

He didn’t know how long he stayed in there, but when he got out, his skin was red, and the pads of his fingertips were wrinkled.

He was exhausted. With his mind still on Mirage, he walked naked to the inlaid bar in his living room and poured himself a stiff drink.

He’d already had three on the flight, but they hadn’t been enough to still his mind.

He took his drink to the bedroom and pulled back the comforter on his Alaskan king bed.

The bedroom was just as minimalist as the living room.

He had a nightstand and a dresser with a mirror.

Regardless that their headquarters was safer and more difficult to infiltrate than the White House, he still tucked his Berettas under his pillow and closed his eyes to enjoy some much-needed rest.

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.