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1
Gage Jackelson decided he’d rather be in the middle of a firefight on open water than standing in front of a green screen in nothing more than his jeans, feeling like a hunk of meat on a slab.
A Goth pixie—heavy on the black eyeliner and dyed hair and complete with a pink tutu trimmed in more black—flitted about him, dusting powder on him and muttering about cheekbones.
This was ridiculous. He stood, arms folded, wondering how he could get out of this. But he couldn’t. He had to start thinking of this like a mission. So he let the pixie fuss.
The elevator pinged, and he hoped the photographer had finally arrived so he could wrap up this charade, get the intel they needed, and get his shirt back on. The things he’d do for a friend—even a dead one.
He glanced over and watched a young woman walk into the studio—okay, warehouse was a better name for it. A loft, big and drafty and empty except for all the photography equipment. Concrete floors, high ceilings, stark white walls. Dirt glazed the windows, but there were enough lights on him that he kept breaking a light sweat.
The woman approached, head cocked, and stared at him. He could feel his skin warm under her scrutiny, which was just another sign of how screwed up this situation was. Normally helikedit when women checked him out. He and the US Navy had worked damn hard to give him this body, and he was proud of it. But normally he wasn’t on display like he was something for sale.
Eyes blue as the Mediterranean Sea fixed on him. Tight jeans encased long legs—he’d always been a leg man—and a white silk blouse said she had enough money to afford good clothes. Golden hair had been pulled back from a heart-shaped face. She didn’t wear much makeup that he could see, and he caught a flash of gold earrings. But those eyes kept pulling him back for another look. Who the hell was she? The photographer’s girlfriend?
No, he realized in the next instant, and he kicked himself for making foolish assumptions as the woman turned and walked over to the camera—not a digital model, but something big and old and expensive-looking. She stared through the lens and then looked up at him. “Gage Jackelson.” She said the name as if she was thinking of something else. She propped a fist on one hip. “I keep wondering why a Navy SEAL would agree to do a cover shoot.” A guy could feel quite warm wrapped up in her sultry tone.
He lifted an eyebrow. He had reasons, all right. But they were his business, not hers. “And you are?” he asked instead.
She stepped up and reached out to shake his hand. “Anna Middleton.”
Gage nodded. He fought the urge to hold her hand longer than he should. She tilted her head up to look at him, and he could swear he caught a hint of surprise in those sea-blue eyes.
She pulled her hand back, and he watched as she tucked it behind her back before grabbing the camera off its stand. “Did Linda explain how this works?”
Linda—the pixie—flashed a smile at him. She trailed a finger down his forearm. “You’ll do great. He’s set, Anna.” She ducked away.
Gage turned his focus back to Anna. “How hard is it to smile for the camera?” Gage drawled. His fingers hadn’t stopped tingling since he touched her, and he was itching to do so again.
“You’d be surprised.” The corners of her wide mouth twitched. “We’ll start without props, but Linda will bring a few in later.”
“Props?” Gage lifted both eyebrows.
Anna took a couple of shots, the camera clicking. “We use a green screen so we can drop in any background, but it’s easier to use physical objects for anything that you will be touching in the actual photos.” Stepping back to the tripod, Anna set the camera on it. She looked through the camera lens, paused, and looked back up at him. “Um, you’re looking a little stiff.”
Linda gave a snort of amusement, though she was polite enough to try to hide it with a cough. Gage smiled, and Anna gave Linda a dirty look before turning back to Gage. “Any chance you can relax? Loosen up? Look less like you’re standing in front of a camera?”
Gage forced a smile. He was going to kill Scotty and Spencer for talking him into being the one to come and gather intel from Coran Williams Publishing.This is for Nick, he told himself again. Their brother in arms had been killed, shot down in circumstances that were sketchy as hell. With every mission, there was always the chance that someone wouldn’t come back, but this mess stank to high heaven and had left them all with an endless list of questions and absolutely no answers.
No answersyet. The team wouldn’t stop searching until they found out what was going on, even if they had damn little to go on right now—just an encrypted flash drive and one personal photo of Nick and his wife, Natalie. They hadn’t even found Nick’s awards and honors for service. But the photo had led them here.
“Mr. Jackelson?”
Gage shook himself out of his mood—he’d been starting to frown. He had to watch that. They’d all talked it over and agreed that busting in here with questions wouldn’t get them far. They needed everyone’s guards down, needed to get natural, honest answers to their questions—and they needed to get inside this place and poke around. Which was why he was here. With his shirt off.
“It’s Lieutenant.” The correction was automatic but quiet. Not like he was in uniform so she’d know. “Lieutenant Jackelson, or Gage.”
She nodded, but the smile looked forced now. “Lieutenant, it would be nice if you seemed a bit less—”
“Stiff?” Gage offered a smile.
“Uncomfortable. Why don’t you tell us a story or describe something in detail?”
“Like a first date?” She huffed, and he had to admit that he was enjoying flustering her.
That wide mouth of hers tightened. “How about instructions for changing a tire? Or you could talk about SEAL training. The point is to stop thinking about what you’re doing.”
And how my shirt’s missing.Gage realized she was right. He needed to get out of his head. He needed to stop thinking about why he was really there. He wasn’t going to be able to search the place any time soon—not with all the people scurrying around to help with the shoot—but he had a great view to check security and access for later.
