Page 25 of Fixed Asset

He leaned forward, pressed a sweet kiss on my lips that left me hoping it wasn’t goodbye.

But I feared it was.

We were dressed and back downstairs.

Obviously, it had taken us more than two minutes.

Mason and Fallon were lounging in chairs, both wearing matching grins. The living room looked like battle central, with M4s and handguns laid out on the couch, vests and ammo stacked on the coffee table.

“Where’s Pete?” Jack inquired.

“Went out to find little miss a vest to circumvent the argument he knew would ensue,” Mason spoke up.

A vest was appreciated, preventing an argument much appreciated, however, Pete going out in search of one seemed to be a fool’s errand.

“Where in the world is he going to find me a vest?”

“We don’t question Pete’s powers,” Fallon informed me. “We just accept the fruit and don’t ask which tree he shook down to provide it.”

“Seriously? There’s no way he’s coming back with a vest.”

“We’ll see.” Fallon lifted his shoulders and dropped them back down with a sigh.

“What’s going on?” Jack circled to the real question.

“Shep called,” Mason said, but not without flashing a knowing smirk.

I searched my feelings and wondered if I should be embarrassed he clearly knew what had been happening in the bedroom when he knocked. I didn’t find a smidgeon of embarrassment or shame. So what if he knew? So what if he heard? So what if he dished out jibes? I was riding the high of Jack. Nothing was going to knock me off the wave of mellow.

“And? You going to enlighten us?”

“You sure you’re back to firing on all cylinders after—”

“Don’t,” Jack gritted out, obviously not riding the same wave I was.

Mason’s gaze flew to me, either to make sure I hadn’t found offense in his would-have-been taunt, or to check if my brain had reengaged and I was ready for the rest of the brief.

I gave him a shoulder lift and a smile. He returned the gesture by busting out laughing.

“Yeah, I think you’re a little bit of all right, Catarina Keys,” he said as he chuckled.

I took that as a compliment.

Mason continued with his brief. “Word is there’s an attack planned on the compound where Berta’s holed up. They’ve been notified, and she’s requested backup. We’re her backup.”

Jack’s gaze shifted to me. I felt the weight of his stare. My Jack was gone. Angry, scorch-the-earth-if-you-put-yourself-in-danger Jack was back. “Did you know about the attack being planned?”

“No, Jack, if I knew my target was under attack I would’ve said something. I need her alive to deliver my intel.”

“And that is?”

I blew out a breath, called up the imaginary patience I didn’t have and never pretended to be in possession of, and then for good measure, counted to ten.

“She asked for information. The CIA found it for her but it took them longer than they thought it would. By the time they had it, she’d gone back underground. They sent me to give her what she’d asked for.”

“I didn’t ask for the mission brief. I asked what the intel was.”

“And I gave you what I’m willing to give.”