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By 7:00, she kicked off her wedges and started worrying. What if something had happened to him? They hadn’t exchanged numbers, so there was no way he could call and tell her something was wrong.
And by 9:00, she knew she’d been stood up. With a sigh, Harper peeled herself up off the couch, walked down to her bedroom and changed into her pajamas, feeling utterly dejected.
Unbelievable.Had he forgotten? Decided to cancel? Been called out of the country on a last-minute job to protect the country?
Yeah right.Wishful thinking.
The truth was she’d spent all day getting ready for their date and he hadn’t even bothered to show up. What a jerk. He turned out to be everything she hoped he wouldn’t be. The sad thing is she’d had such high hopes. There had been such a connection and chemistry between them. Was she the only one who’d felt something?
“Pathetic,” Harper whispered to herself. Maybe this was a sign that she needed to forget about men and focus on herself. Onherhappiness.
With that thought firmly planted in her head, Harper stepped into her pink fluffy slippers and headed straight to the kitchen. Opening the freezer, she grabbed the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked. The chocolate chip cookie dough/ fudge brownie mix was the ultimate comfort food to drown her sorrows.
But as she lifted her spoon, she paused right before taking a big bite. She didn’t want a soothing sugar overload, she wanted answers. In fact, she deserved those answers. Shoving the tub of ice cream back into the freezer, she threw the spoon in the sink, pointed her pink slippers toward the door, and decided Ryland owed her an explanation.
When Patrick had tossed her out, she didn’t question it or put up a fight. She’d merely hung her head, packed her bag and walked out. But, dammit, no more. She wasn’t going to let another man get away with treating her like shit and making her feel bad about herself.
She deserved more; she deserved answers.
And screw it, she was going over to his apartment to get them.
???
Once they landed back in San Diego, the team headed straight to command central, the air between them heavy with sorrow. They’d lost one of their own and, though they’d all experienced it before, it never got any easier.
Especially when it was the guy you were buddies with.
Pharaoh looked up from the phone he’d been dialing nonstop for hours. Clearly, Merlin still wasn’t answering. Which most likely meant he was dead or a part of the surprise strike against them.
And that twitchy feeling Ryland should have acknowledged hours ago was telling him their handler was a part of the ambush.
The team was upset about Tanner, frustrated over the entire op, and they needed answers. Banshee was working on it, using his hacking skills to run programs and dig up information about The Agency. But there was nothing the rest of them could do—at least not at the moment. And that didn’t sit well with any of them.
Pharaoh moved up beside Ryland and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go home and try to get some rest. We’ll regroup in the morning. Figure out what the hell is going on.”
Their gazes lowered to the body bag.
“I’ll take care of Mayhem and—”
“His name was Tanner Stiles,” Ryland interrupted heatedly. “He was more than some stupid nickname.”
Pharaoh squeezed Ryland’s shoulder. “Tanner will get the burial he deserves. And we’ll all be there to show our respect.”
Ryland gave a sharp nod. He knew Pharaoh was right. There was no way he’d be able to sleep, but at least he could take a hot shower and get the blood out from under his fingernails. It was starting to make him sick every time he looked down and saw it there.
He could channel his grief and frustration into thoughts of revenge.
By the time Ryland parked his Jeep and walked into his apartment, it was dark and he was exhausted. Instead of turning on the lights, he walked through the living room, memory and moonlight his only guides, planning to head straight to the bathroom.
At the last second, he turned, dropped his backpack and decided to grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge. He spun around at a muffledpopandwhoosh, clocking a dark shadow in his periphery, and dove sideways as another bullet flew past his head.
His fight mode and training kicking in, he stayed low, moving around the back of the couch, circling fast. He was glad he hadn’t turned the lights on because the darkness provided cover. The intruder slunk forward, pistol raised in the direction Ryland had just vacated, and Ryland shot forward from the opposite side, slamming a fist against the asshole’s wrist and forcing him to drop the gun.
Kicking it away, Ryland launched himself into the masked figure and they flew backwards, the intruder’s back crashing into the coffee table and the glass shattering beneath him. They rolled sideways, fists flying, and Ryland managed to get several good hits in before the man punched him hard in the chin.
Ryland’s head snapped to the side and stars danced at the edge of his vision, but it also gave him a clear line of sight to the gun. And it was within reach. Wasting no time, he grabbed it and spun. The fury inside him bubbled over to an all-consuming boil as he pulled the trigger.
The masked man dropped with a grunt of pain. Flipping on the light, Ryland was about to unmask the sonofabitch when he heard a knock at the door.Shit.The intruder was stunned, but still alive, and Ryland wanted to tie the bastard up and interrogate him.
