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“She hasn’t gotten a good run in forever. Glad you’re back,” Cruz exaggerates. “Will you be here in the morning?”
My lips curl at his indiscreet implication. “Probably not, but I’ll come by sometime tomorrow to take care of her.”
Rowan giggles, kissing the underside of my jaw. “I love you.”
I drop my lips to hers, tasting the champagne, and a familiar need takes over.
Not caring about our audience, I tangle my fingers in her hair, angling to kiss her deeper. She whimpers, clutching my shirt as my tongue sweeps through her mouth.
“Time for that beer.” I vaguely hear Talon.
The smell of jasmine and lavender fills my senses, her soft body curled into mine, and the last week without her fades away.
Wait for it…
The tension in the room rises as the sound of static lingers.
“Shit—”
Robbie silences Major with a slice of his hand, concentrating on the image on the screen.
After a full minute, there’s movement and a muffled shuffling.
“We got them. Looks like seven crates hidden among inventory,” the man announces, and Robbie barks orders into his headset.
Five seconds later, agents swarm the truck.
“That’s a wrap.” Finn removes his headset and flashes a triumphant smile. “Good job, men.”
“Group effort.” I slap Talon’s back. “Almost makes ten days with this fool worth it.”
“You loved every minute.”
“Tell me again why we are in this room while all the action is out there?” Ace grouses.
“Better than a Friday night on Broadway.”
“Damn straight,” I agree, hating the nights we patrolled downtown and dealt with the drunks who can’t handle their alcohol.
“Not exciting enough for you, Kingston? Would you rather scale buildings?” Finn prods.
“Much more of an action man,” Ace replies. “Don’t want to go soft.”
“I can assure you there’s nothing soft—” Finn’s cut off by the loud ringing in the room.
Only one person it could be.
“Dad,” Robbie clicks on the speakerphone.
“Nice job.” James' voice thunders through the line. Sirens and shouts fill the background.
“The drivers talking?”
“They claim to be contractors contacted yesterday to deliver a truckload of produce to Memphis.”
“Typical excuse. Want us to check it out?”
James laughs. “No, son. This is where we turn it over and run. Unless you want to spend the next month buried in paperwork.”
