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“On it, boss man.” She smiled. It was always good when a mission went off without a hitch.
When there was gunfire, or one of her peeps got hurt, it was the absolute worst to be stuck in the command center in the office, able to do nothing more than watch and wait.
Sometimes, she wished she was out there too—doing, fighting, taking action.
Jet snorted. She wasn’t a field agent. Even when she’d been at the CIA, she’d been in the high-tech computer room, hacking terrorists and criminals.
She quickly put a call through to their contact at the NYPD. Then she stared at her phone. After a quick internal argument, she pulled up a number.
She’d saved it as Infuriating. She tapped out a message.
I just nabbed six bad guys. That’s ten for me this week. I’m smoking you, James Bond.
Cain, no last name, a.k.a. codename Shade, often didn’t reply for several hours, but this time, her phone dinged instantly.
You mean Steel nabbed ten. You just watched.
Jet snorted.
Without my insane skills, he would never have found them. Therefore, I get the credit. How many have you taken down this week?
One, but he was really bad, so he should count for three, pixie.
Either way, I’m in the lead. And pixie is a terrible nickname. I prefer goddess of all things tech.
I think goddesses are usually taller.
Jet shook her head. Shade was the CIA’s best deep-cover agent. Most people had never heard of him, or only heard whispers surrounding the mysterious Shade. The kind that made criminals nervous. No doubt his bad guy was the worst of the worst.
She hoped he hadn’t gotten hurt. Not that he’d ever tell her.
A funny pressure filled her chest. Shade confused the hell out of her. He was annoying, with an uppercase and underlinedA. The man knew how to tap dance on her last nerve, and light the fuse of her short temper.
He was also hot as hell. She fiddled with her hair. He was tall, muscular, and had tawny hair that he often wore up in a sexy man bun, or short ponytail. Not to mention the wide, sexy smile. His eyes were brown—a rich, dark brown that hid so many secrets. He knew he was a walking fantasy. No doubt he used that to his advantage in his job.
Now, a sour feeling filled her stomach. It was too easy to imagine him charming international supermodels and beautiful foreign agents.
Jet was short and cute. She knew who she was. She had a big brain in a tiny body. She pushed her almost-shoulder-length hair back. It was black, with her usual pink tips on the end that she’d just had recently re-colored. She was comfortable in her skin and her abilities.
She just wished she could find a man who felt the same.
They either felt threatened by her skills or intimidated by her work, or left her for more glamorous and beautiful women.
Shaking her head, she focused on her phone. Taller. The jackass.
Watch it, Bond, or I’ll hack your phone and make it so your ring tone is annoying Minion noises.
That doesn’t sound so bad, pixie. I like the Minions. And you are just pint-sized.
Jet’s gaze narrowed. She hunched over the keyboard. “Let’s see how you like this.”
Her fingers flew. She loved her work. She did feel like a goddess, with so much power at her fingertips. The CIA had trained her well before Killian had lured her away.
“There.” She hit a key and grinned.
A second later, her phone chirped.
Change it back. Now.
