Tough Enough

I laugh. Tag is the lady-killer of the four of us.

Three, I remind myself. Reid, our fourth brother-in-arms, was killed not too long ago. Someone knew his location and led a mercenary right to him. Our commander, Colonel Denton Harper, is still trying to figure out why he was killed and by whom. It’s very likely it had to do with one of the government covert operations we executed, but until the Colonel tracks down some answers, we are all in danger. For that reason alone, I suppose it’s a good thing Kurt came with me to Enchantment. We couldn’t be any better hidden if I’d handpicked a place for us to go. We’re in the middle of nowhere in a town the size of my thumbnail. A stranger would stick out like a sore thumb here.

“I’ll be sure to pass along your admiration when I see him.” Tag works a vineyard on the side of a mountain not far from here. I’m sure we’ll get together at some point.

“Just calling to say that I got a new lead. Turned it in to the Colonel. Hope it gets us something.”

“Me, too, man. You heading back to the states?”

“Uhhh, not yet. It’s not safe yet and there’s . . . Well, I’ll fill you in later. But no, I’m not coming back yet. Hopefully it won’t be long before I do, though.”

“Sounds good, J. Until then, watch your back.”

“Watch yours,” he warns.

“We’ll get this bastard.”

“Yes. We will.”

I hear death in his voice. I’ve heard it before. We all have. We’ve all done things we’ll probably never be able to talk about, but Jasper . . . he had demons that were riding him before we knew each other. I guess we all did, but his . . . Well, he’s the most tortured of us. The deadliest, too. But he’s my family and I’d trust him with my life. We all would. We all are. He’s the one most actively searching for the person responsible for Reid and his mother’s death. “Later, Ro.”

“Later, man.”

He hangs up with a click and I grab another beer before I head upstairs to go over tomorrow’s script and then turn in. Jasper and the traitor are very much on my mind. To distract myself, I think of Katie . . . maybe a bit too much. After an hour, I’ve looked at the same page a dozen times and retained exactly none of it. I have, however, managed to successfully recall every minute detail about the sexy-as-hell makeup artist. When I wake up just after three a.m., it’s with my hard dick in my hand and an auburn-haired beauty on my mind. That’s the first time I realize that I might damn well be in trouble.





NINE


Katie

I woke up feeling determined, determined to remain calmly unaffected by Kiefer Rogan. He’s just a man, probably a total jerk when he’s not trying so hard to be charming.

Total jerk, I say to myself over and over again as I make my way down the hall. I’m halfway to my door when I pull my mind back to the present enough to notice that my coworking cohort is missing from my walk. Mona gets in before I do and usually she is filling my ears with all manner of gossip, romantic elation or relationship heartbreak by now. Only this morning she’s not.

And when I get to my “office” I see why.

There, leaning up against my makeup table, gawking at Kiefer Rogan, is Mona. I don’t know which part of the scene shocks me more—Mona gawking or Rogan beating me to work. Again.

I pause in the doorway. “G-good morning,” I offer the room at large.

Both Rogan and Mona turn to look at me. Mona is wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. I wonder if I should be concerned that her face might split right down the middle. “Kitty!” she screeches gleefully.

Rogan is wearing damp hair, a tight white shirt and a lopsided grin that makes my insides turn more somersaults than an Olympic gymnast. Holy monkeys, is he hot!

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