Page 8 of Ryland

Bruja was a feisty Latina beauty with long, silky ebony hair that was always swept back in a ponytail and big, brown eyes. But Ryland knew better than to let her good looks deceive him. She was a martial arts expert trained in Krav Maga and could outclimb all of them on the rock wall. She may be the only woman on the team, but that didn’t make her any less competent or lethal than the men. In fact, Ryland thought she might be the scariest of them all. Her codename meant “Witch” in Spanish and she could kick or bewitch the shit out of anyone. It was all a part of her murderous charm.

If Ryland had to guess, the smooth, confident man called Pharaoh had to be a former commander of some kind. The perfect team leader, he was always the epitome of calm and cool under pressure. Hella smart, too. But one look from his intense gray gaze could bury anyone. Pharaoh possessed an air about him that clearly communicated he was used to giving orders. He held himself like a leader, always spewed words of wisdom, and whenever he opened his mouth, everyone leaned forward a little and listened more closely. The man demanded respect and Ryland had never seen anything ruffle him in the six months they’d worked together.

Across from Pharaoh sat Saint, a broody SOB with coal black hair, fathomless dark eyes and endless ink over his hands and forearms. He spoke with a faint, undefinable accent and reeked of danger and cigarette smoke. He never got too friendly or joked around too much and had a sarcastic streak that could skewer someone. Ryland was glad Saint was on their side. The dude was ruthless.

The final member of their squad was Tanner “Mayhem” Stiles. Ryland’s BFF resembled some sort of Norse Viking with his blond locks that hung in his ice blue eyes. Laidback and easygoing like Ryland, he gave off the impression that he didn’t have a care in the world. But put a weapon in his hands and he was quick to show just how capable he was and exactly why The Agency had recruited him. When he wasn’t surfing or joking around, Tanner was deadly. They all were.

Together, the six of them were the deadliest group of assassins ever put together by the U.S. government. Their job was to eliminate enemies of the United States by sneaking in and out and neutralizing their targets before anyone was the wiser.

And the best part was they didn’t have to play by the rules of engagement.

The team flew all over the world and did things that other people couldn’t in order to preserve freedom and justice. It wasn’t a job for the meek or weak of stomach. Last week, Ryland slit a man’s throat from ear to ear without thinking twice. But calling him a man humanized him when he was in fact a disgusting, piece of shit human trafficker with a mansion full of chained-up, underage girls.

Ex Nihilo swept in under the cover of night and took out the trash. They skimmed the pond of scum and didn’t lose a wink of sleep afterwards.

They weren’t just shadows who came to take down the worst of the worst. They were the darkness itself and would slither in through the keyhole and end the bad guys before they even knew what the hell was happening.

So far, Ex Nihilo had successfully executed twelve missions and The Agency considered them a massive success.

As Banshee finished hooking up wires and doing tech stuff that Ryland didn’t understand, he glanced over at Bruja who was playing around with her nunchucks. She wielded them with unparalleled skill and Ryland was quite happy to be on the friendly side of her and her weapon.

When her dark gaze met his, she grinned. “You talk to Barbie yet, Rip?” she asked teasingly. “Or are you still too scared?”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You wait much longer and maybe you could take her to a four o’clock dinner over at Denny’s on senior discount Tuesday,” Banshee added and everyone laughed.

So much for keeping their personal lives quiet. Tanner had outed Ryland last week when he started teasing him about not having asked Harper out yet.

“Go ahead, laugh it up, but first, are you two dating anyone?” Neither said anything and Ryland gave them a smug look. “That’s what I thought. And, for your information, I talked to Harper today, thank you very much, and we have a date tomorrow night.”

“My man!” Tanner exclaimed and slapped hands with Ryland.

Across the table, Saint merely rolled his eyes and Pharaoh smirked.

“Poor girl has no idea what she’s getting into,” Bruja stated, spinning her nunchucks.

“Oh, she knows,” Ryland assured her.

“Barbie’s about to get the whole package,” Tanner said, backing up his friend.

“That’s right.” Ryland and Tanner exchanged a complicated maneuver of slides, bumps, and snaps ending with splayed fingers and a mutual shout of “Pow!” at the end.

“Is this meeting going to start any time this century?” Saint cracked his neck and looked more bored than a kid forced to sit through church.

“Hey, Saint,” Ryland said, “if you ever need any help removing that pole from your ass, Mayhem and I could help.”

Saint lifted his inked middle finger in response just as the incoming call buzzed. Pharaoh reached over and flipped a switch, connecting the team with their mysterious handler, known to them only as Merlin.

“Sir, you’re on speaker,” Pharaoh said, instantly all-business. “The team’s all here, ready to go.”

“Good then let’s not waste any time,” the distorted voice said, its true tone hidden by a mechanical filter. None of them had ever met or seen Merlin. He was the man behind the curtain who gave them their orders. Pharaoh was the only one who had a contact number for the man, but his true identity was a mystery. The team figured he’d been recruited just like them and was most likely former military. Although, they weren’t exactly sure why the cloak and dagger routine was necessary.

“You’re going to fly to Abu Dhabi and eliminate Yusuf Bashar, an arms dealer selling weapons to Syrian terrorists. I’ll be supplying you with the codes and any other intel needed to break into his heavily-guarded compound. Once you eliminate Bashar, you come back home. Couldn’t be any more clear cut. Any questions?”

Pharaoh looked down the table at his teammates and was greeted by the expected silence.

Cake walk.They’d be in and out with no one the wiser. They were like wraiths, capable of carrying out straightforward missions like these in their sleep.

“Roger that,” Pharaoh said. “When do we leave?”

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