Page 13 of Fixed Asset

If there was one city in all of Honduras I didn’t want to take Cat to, it would be San Pedro Sula. If Shep was sending us there, that meant he’d located our target. And of course, Berta ‘the Angel of Death’ Lanza would be in San Pedro Sula. Where else would a woman on the warpath be?

Good Christ.

I jerked my chin. The phone disappeared. I pulled mine out of my pocket, opened the Maps app, and put in the city name. It was a minimum of a five-hour drive to the northern coast, closer to six if we avoided the toll roads. Not to be confused with traditional toll roads like the Jersey Turnpike or bridge tolls. These tolls were nothing more than a money grab from the police. They’d set up checkpoints for the sole purpose of extorting a few bucks.

The problem wasn’t the money, though it was annoying as fuck to have to stop every twenty kilometers to pay off another cop; it was that each time we got stopped, we courted an issue with our documents. Not that they wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny, but getting hauled in for questioning was out of the question. It was better to take the long route, avoid the tolls and possible side-of-the-road battles.

Traffic was a nightmare in this part of the city. Instead of silently showing Pete the map on my phone, I told him where we were going. I saw him wince, then jerk his chin in recognition.

One problem solved.

Next up, Cat.

I turned in my seat.

I don’t know what I thought I would find her doing, but sitting on her ass, knees cocked up, leaning up against the side wall of the van next to Fallon with her head bent to his phone and smiling, shards of broken glass littering the scarred and dirty floorboards, was not it.

I glanced at Mason. His position was the same, but his legs were stretched out, ankles crossed, armed folded over his chest, eyes firmly on Catarina, checking her out.

I knew that look. I’d spent the last nine months with my new team. Six of those months were spent training at Pete’s compound in the Jamul Mountains south of San Diego. It wasn’t battle tactics we practiced. We all had the same training from the SEAL Teams. The six months were spent team building, learning how to work together in flawless synchronicity, learning how to read each other, learning strengths and weaknesses. I’d studied them, and they’d studied me.

To the average observer, Mase looked like he was checking out a hot chick, but the once-over had nothing to do with her good looks.

Just because I didn’t see it didn’t mean I didn’t know that when Mason deemed it was time to return fire, Cat scrambled—maybe even shoved Fallon out of the way—to get into a firing position.

That was Catarina, always in the mix. Brave, skilled, fearless, and bold. Damn fine qualities—if she’d learn to protect herself.

I let out a sharp whistle. Three heads turned my way. I pointed at Cat and crooked my finger, motioning her to come to me.

The squinty-eyed gesture in return was lethal and hot. I wondered how she’d respond to the demand if she was naked. If I ordered her on her hands and knees and told her to crawl across the bed, would she throw attitude or would she be a good girl?

Knowing her, she’d make me work for it. There was no chance Catarina would bend unless the man in her bed had earned it. And the thought of bending Cat to my will never failed to make my cock hard. The fuck of it was, it had more to do with earning her than getting her to submit.

Submission was easy. I didn’t want compliance. I wanted Cat’s surrender. I didn’t want to just fuck her, I wanted to fuck her until the rest of the world was erased and I owned her—body and soul. I’d never met a more frustrating woman. A woman who, if given the chance, would own me.

I watched Cat push away from the wall. Mason shifted his legs out of her way. And either to tease me or infuriate the hell out of me, she crawled—fucking crawled—the short distance to the front seats. I glanced at Mason, then to Fallon. Both men had their eyes glued to her ass.

I felt the rumble in my chest, though it didn’t register over my ringing ears, but I knew the men heard the unhappy sound. Mase looked up and smirked. Fallon smiled and went back to looking at his phone. Cat held on to the back of the seats and pulled up on her knees, bringing herself to my eye level.

“You summoned?”

I was going to do a lot more than summon her if she pulled that shit again.

“Do me a favor and don’t swing your ass in front of my team.”

Lethal and hot morphed into fatal. A lesser man would’ve withered to dust under her stare. Unfortunately for me, it was a turn-on.

“You know, telling me not to do something is only going to make me want to do it more,” she informed me.

I’d already lived that nightmare, so I was well aware Cat did shit out of spite. If my ears weren’t throbbing I would’ve pointed out the idiocy of her statement.

“Do you have anything important in your hotel room?”

I didn’t miss the small grimace; no doubt her ears hurt worse than mine.

“No.”

“Nothing? Electronics? Files? Passport?”