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Bob’s spine straightened as he looked me dead in the eye. His glare was almost hateful. I instantly regretted my words. I’d pushed too far—one of my biggest flaws. Sometimes I had a hard time separating my tough-girl persona from myself. The persona bled into conversations it shouldn’t, and I often ended up with someone mad at me. It was hard to make myself vulnerable. I was used to getting results by pushing hard, making it difficult to know when to be soft—or even how.
“If you took a look at thosewashed-up soldiers’records, you’d know exactly how decorated they are. They’ve done things for this country they can never speak about. Three of them have the Distinguished Service Cross, and three have Silver Stars. All of them are recipients of Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts. They’ve saved numerous lives. More than you have. They saved an entire foreign city from getting blown sky high, but neither of us are supposed to know about that. They’ve suffered serious injuries and made unthinkable sacrifices for their country. One is even missing a leg. Give them some respect. They’ve earned it,” he said. His tone was deadly serious. He didn’t even stop to take a breath. I’d clearly stepped over a line.
“Got it.” I felt guilty. He gave me what I wanted to know, but I manipulated him to get the info. He inexplicably trusted the group, going to bat for them, come hell or high water. It wasn’t like him to approach things from an emotional angle. He was a logical man, but there was a first time for everything.
He relaxed his shoulders, which went stiff as he politely told me to fuck off.
“Now back to your other question.” He cleared his throat. I really felt sorry, because he was going to compliment me, right after I pissed him off. “What you add to the team is a line of communication. You keep me in touch with what’s going on, and you will guide them down the right path if they lose direction or go off course. You’ll be the buffer between them and the agents. You have the experience and drive to take on a challenge like this. I know that you are eager to prove yourself, and this is how. If you are successful in finding evidence to back up my suspicions, this will make your career. I’d do this myself if I could, but the group would know I’m up to something, and the other agents might recognize me.”
“Wouldn’t the office know of my entrance to the country? Do you think I might blow the cover for your bounty hunters?” It wasn’t like looking at flight manifests was unusual for agents. They did that to look for wanted fugitives all the time.
“You might be an agent, but for this op you are a vacationing tourist. Hence my earlier recommendation that you take a vacation. It would be documented with the bureau that you are off the clock and not sniffing around for a trafficking ring.”
I rolled my eyes at his insistence. It seemed like I really didn’t have a choice in the matter. He gave me my cover before I even knew I needed one. He found his way to sink his claws into me and drag me down into a whole new type of danger. Creepy old perverts, I could handle. Facing off against my peers, that was far from my normal op.
“And this team, are they supposed to know who I am?” I asked.
“No, you’ll be undercover again. I don’t want them to know I am involved in this. I told them that I wouldn’t be. That Jasmine girl has a temper, and she’d call me up and chew me out if she thought I was sending them a babysitter and that I was withholding information when I pointed them in this direction in the first place,” he said with a chuckle.
I rolled my eyes at the fact that he was slightly terrified of one of the members of this team. So much so that he was just avoiding confrontation all together.
“How exactly do I establish that cover?” I asked skeptically. “How do I make them trust my advice and judgment if I can’t tell them who I am? If I don’t have any type of expertise they can trust, I’m useless to them.”
“You’ll have to develop that,” he said with a shoulder shrug of his own.
“Are any of them single? I wonder if I can try to form a romantic relationship with one of them?” It was my go-to.
“I don’t know, and that’s your choice, not mine. Here’s their names and their addresses. These two happen to be getting married in a few days, in the Bahamas. Why don’t you fly down there and see what they are up to?” Bob said, and he passed me a wedding invitation.
They were getting married in the same place they were going to look for a trafficking ring.That’s commitment. Or insanity.
I glanced down at the invitation; it was printed on thick cardstock paper in a pale lavender with silver embossed letters.
Fancy.
“Why do I recognize this name?” I asked.
“Do your research. I’ll put in your PTO request.” He winked and tossed the coffee cup in the trash as he left. I stood there in shock and stared after him.There goes my recovery period. I guess that settles that.
I was pissed he was taking my PTO for this mission; but I guess I’d get that back when the operation was complete.OrI’d better if they didn’t want a HR complaint stacked on top of my findings.
I sat down at my desk and combed through the social media pages for the ragtag team of bounty hunters. I found the profiles for the happy couple, and I nearly shit my pants when I realized why the name seemed familiar. The bride, Christine Daniels, was the Vice President of Green Oil Industries. Her groom was her bodyguard. The pieces clicked together—she was who Bob was referring to when he said he had a friend with connections to psychiatrists. She was the founder of the Human Trafficking and Sexual Abuse Awareness Foundation. We directed the women rescued in New York their way. I felt a little starstruck because her mission was so closely aligned to mine. She wanted to help the women who had been abused, like I had.Now I feel like a dick for referring to her group as a bunch of washed-up soldiers.
Way to fuck that up, Abby.
Each man in the group was just as good looking as the next, until I hit the last one on the list, Adam Strong. He was the sexiest one of them all. I scrolled through his pictures, maybe a little longer than necessary.Let’s call it research. Better than the alternative, thirsty.
The man was jacked, like a bodybuilder. The muscles looked all natural. I found a photo of him standing by a luxury pool with a few of the guys in his group. He was shirtless, and his entire upper body was tatted from the neck down. It gave him a bad-boy vibe, which was exactly my type, even though I spent most of my time putting them away.What’s really sexy are the good men disguised as bad ones.Adam Strong was definitely a good guy, despite his very hard and intimidating appearance.
Suddenly Bob’s plan didn’t seem as bad as I originally anticipated. I was expecting fifty-year-old vets with graying hair and big bellies who talked about the good ol’ days. These guys looked like they were still enlisted. I had loads more confidence in them now.
It was said not to judge a book by the cover, but the cover could be very telling. After all, it had the title and the author. So far I was willing to crack open the spine and take a look at the pages, all of them.
I found several photos of the men in their uniforms from their time in service. Their patches had been removed for the photos, so I couldn’t look up specifics regarding units and missions.
Bob’s confidence in these men didn’t seem unfounded. They were likely highly skilled operators in foreign environments. They’d be very capable of surviving in whatever situation they were dropped into—even paradise.
I looked into the other girl in the group, Jasmine. She was just as pretty as Christine, and she seemed to be paired up with Will Jones.
