Page 75 of Untamed Sinner

His jaw flexes.

“We use the commission, like we discussed to begin with,” I say. “We control the meeting. I get close enough to find out what he knows about Clara, what happened to the rest of Turner’s network, and how deep this goes. Then we cut it off at the head.”

Hendricks’s hands grip me tighter. “And if he decides to put a bullet in your head the second you walk through the door?”

“Presumably my terrifyingly competent boyfriend has planned for that.”

His eyes narrow.

I smile winningly, smoothing his T-shirt over his shoulders. “You wanted this, Hendricks. Partners.”

“That does not mean I help you get yourself killed,” he grits out.

“I’m not planning to die.”

He snorts. “Excellent. Very reassuring.”

I wind my arms around his neck and press my body to his. “This is what I do, Hendricks.”

His hands automatically hold me closer, one hand twining in my hair. “I know.”

I meet his gaze. “I can get Ashford.”

He nods. “I know that too.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He studies me for a long moment. “You.”

My smile disappears.

He uses my hair to tilt my head back, just a little. “I can calculate the operational risk. I can plan for Ashford. I can plan for Turner’s remaining people. What I cannot do is put you inside that house alone and pretend you’re an acceptable loss if something goes wrong.”

Something squeezes hard behind my ribs. I cover it the only way I know how. “Good news. I’m adorable and extremely difficult to kill.”

His expression doesn’t change.

Fine. Worth a shot. I sigh. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying if we do this, we don’t do it alone.”

“Who do you have in mind?” I ask cautiously.

Hendricks is already somewhere else mentally—probably calculating manpower, entry points, and contingencies. The bastard is planning the operation while simultaneously holding my hips.

Hot.

His eyes meet mine, and somehow, before he says it, I know who he’s going to suggest.

The Blackthorn boys.

56

HENDRICKS

I've worked with mercenaries, intelligence officers, cartel informants, and men whose names don't exist on government databases. None of that has prepared me for walking into Blackthorn Ranch with Mandy carrying two boxes of donuts.

Luke opens the front door as we get out of my truck. I texted to give them a heads-up that we were on our way, and not for a social call. In typical fashion, his gaze immediately drops to the boxes. "Tell me those are for us."