Page 71 of Deep Cover

She turned, lifting her ponytail off her neck, and felt his fingers brush the shell of her ear as he fitted the earpiece into place. His warm touch lingered longer than required, thumb grazing the curve of her jaw before he pulled back.

“How’s that feel?” His voice was low and rough, giving her the sensation they were alone instead of surrounded by special operators prepared to give their lives to secure this warehouse.

“Good.” Her voice was an unsteady shiver.

He clipped the small transmitter to her vest, fingers working at the strap near her collarbone and letting one fingertip settle over the pulse in her throat. Her breath caught and she almost lost it.

“You’ll hear everything we say once we’re inside.”

“Understood.”

“No matter what happens to the rest of us, you look out for yourself, Ryss. Got it? I need to know you’re safe.”

She nodded hard to cover the tightness in her throat.

“I still don’t like this,” he said quietly.

She didn’t respond because there was nothing to say.

She checked her own gear, running her hands over her vest to make sure it was snug and pulling on her FBI windbreaker. She clipped her badge to it, then drew her sidearm and checked the magazine out of habit even though she already knew the count. Full. She’d loaded it herself an hour ago, hands steadier than the rest of her had been.

“You good?” Reid asked, watching her run through the motions.

“I’m good.” She holstered the weapon. “Ready.”

He studied her a moment longer as if he was trying to memorize this version of her—armored, armed and steady despite everything roiling underneath.

“You look like you belong out here. I hate that. And I mean that as a compliment.”

She almost laughed. “I’ll take it.”

If she looked up, she’d see that glimmer of pride in his eyes, but she couldn’t bear to. Without more tasks to keep her mind off what was to come, she tapped into the energy in the room as they waited for the command to roll out.

The team finished their own final checks with a practiced rhythm. Rorke tapped his weapon twice in some private ritual. Rome and Younger exchanged a low joke that had their mouths twitching but neither laughed at it.

Reid inched closer to her. His shoulder brushed hers when either one of them shifted their weight, but they didn’t close the distance the way they both wanted to.

At the head of the group, Cannon turned to face them all. “Standard rules apply. Nobody dies, nobody gets shot in a place that ruins a good pair of pants, and if anybody finds snacks in that warehouse, they’re getting shared.” He looked around. “That last one’s non-negotiable.”

Laughter rippled through the group as some of the tension broke.

Cannon’s voice dropped into a more serious cadence. “Watch each other. That’s the whole plan. You watch each other, and you come back.” His gaze landed briefly on Caryssa, then moved on before it could turn into anything sentimental. “All of you.”

“Copy that,” Reid said, the rest of the team echoing it in overlapping murmurs.

Then they were moving, gear rattling with every stride they took. Caryssa fell into step beside Reid, and for one last moment before the dark tunnel swallowed them, his hand found hers—the squeeze quick and fierce and gone as fast as it came.

“Stay close to me in there,” he said, low.

“I will.” She didn’t tell him there was no place else she wanted to be.

They emerged from the tunnel, and she got a blast of cold air on her face before she was directed into a truck. They rolled into the night, toward whatever waited at the end of this.

Including the ending she and Reid saw coming, but neither of them were ready to face.

SEVENTEEN

The last time Rivers ignored his instincts, he’d been left to bleed out in the snow and two women had been kidnapped.