Finding the Fight: A Stealth Ops Novel

by Sahin, Brittney

  Sarah’s long dark hair, a reminder of Asher’s, was swept into a high ponytail, and the dress she wore—well, Asher would’ve had a brotherly heart attack.

  “Uh, hi.” Sarah shifted off the leather to stand. “What’s with the hair?”

  Jessica touched her long black wig. “Right. Um, it’s a Valentine’s Day thing,” she sputtered. “Don’t ask.” A quick, forced laugh tumbled free. “So, you’re here with friends?”

  When Sarah pointed to someone behind Jessica, she glanced back. Angelo stood off to the side of the club, talking to some guy. A guy who was poking his finger at his chest. How had she missed him before?

  Maybe her radar was still off. Shit.

  “That doesn’t look good,” she said, turning to face Sarah. “Everything okay?”

  “An old acquaintance of his, I think.”

  Acquaintance, sure.

  “Asher’s not with you?” She blinked her long dark lashes a few times. “No, he wouldn’t be,” she answered herself, shaking her head. “He hates Valentine’s Day.”

  “Does he?” She scratched at her collarbone, not sure what to do or say—or why she’d even chosen to approach her.

  “Our pops was arrested that day,” she said so low Jessica pretty much had to read her lips, especially with the heavy beats of music all around.

  “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t remember the date from his file.”

  “Why would that be in Asher’s work file?” Her brows pinched together. Curiosity there.

  She was quiet for a moment before hoping to deflect. “So, how’s your restaurant? It was your mom’s place before you took over, right?”

  “Yeah, it was. Things are hectic this time of year, but I needed a night off.” She tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Didn’t something happen to you recently?”

  How much did she know? Asher wouldn’t ever share operational details with her, but . . .

  “We were together when he saw the news about Germany, and the color drained from his face at the mention of you being in Berlin where the attack happened.”

  Ohh.

  “And then a week later, I found him fighting at Angelo’s.”

  This wasn’t news, but the fact that his sister knew so much was surprising.

  “Angelo said he hasn’t been back in a week, though.” Sarah glanced toward Angelo before her gaze flitted back to Jessica. “I’d rather him not fight.”

  Me, too. “Is he okay with you and Angelo being together?”

  “He’s not happy, but he’s been off my case about it, at least. Distracted by something or someone, I think.”

  “Hi, beautiful.” A voice buzzed from behind.

  Angelo.

  He reached for Sarah’s hand and pulled her into his arms. “Ready to get out of here? I want you all to myself.”

  Jessica shot them an awkward wave and slipped away.

  She found Eva, Samantha, and Emily on the dance floor.

  “Hey, who were you talking to?” Eva hollered over the music.

  “Ah, no one.” She tried to shake her arms loose, to feel the beats of the music splinter throughout her body and take control . . . but her signals were jammed; she couldn’t get her body to function properly.

  Egon.

  Samir.

  The bullet to Ara.

  She needed to get out of there. It was too crowded. Too . . . everything.

  “I can’t do this,” she rasped, probably not loud enough for them to hear. “I’m sorry.” She located one of the exits—an exit that five men had just walked through.

  Bravo Team.

  “They’re back,” Samantha shouted.

  “How the hell did they find us?” Emily asked as they left the dance floor.

  Luke, Owen, Knox, Liam, and . . . Asher. The men strode through the crowd, their eyes already pinned in their direction.

  Asher was now sporting an entirely new look, and it had her jaw dropping. What happened in Mexico?

  Luke plastered on a smile as he ate up the distance between them and lifted Eva into his arms.

  Owen followed suit with Samantha.

  They had their happily-ever-afters. But she couldn’t have hers. Not now, at least.

  But would it be too late for her to find love once—if—she was able to shed her hard exterior and finally let someone in?

  She lost her thoughts when Liam and Knox nodded hello before greeting Emily.

  But Asher didn’t say a damn thing. Maybe she didn’t deserve anything after their last conversation.

  Luke lowered Eva to the ground and kissed her before murmuring, “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”

  “You made it just in time.” Eva kissed him again.

  Luke threaded his fingers through Eva’s long blonde wig. “Interesting look,” he said with a smile.

  Eva diverted her attention to Asher. “It looks like Jessica and I aren’t the only ones with new hairdos.” She crossed her arms and eyed Asher who was still quiet. “What happened to your hair?”

  Knox’s lips split into a grin. “He lost a bet.” He wrapped a hand over Asher’s shoulder. “And a bet is a bet.”

  You really did it. Asher had chopped off his hair. Tapered on the sides and a little longer, almost spiky, on the top. Similar to Owen’s, only darker. His beard trimmed as well.

  “What kind of bet?” Samantha asked as they shifted toward a bar top table farther away from the DJ and the flow of traffic.

  Jessica peered around the club, searching to see if Sarah had already left. When she didn’t see her, her gaze landed back on Asher.

  On the new Asher. Hell, he looked good no matter what.

  “It was about—” Liam cut himself off and coughed into a closed fist when his gaze flitted to Emily. “Anyway.” He raised his brows. “Luke and Owen rounded us up when they discovered you ladies had gone out for a night on the town.”

  “I didn’t expect you to be out tonight, though.” Luke observed his sister, but his flicker of concern dissipated when Eva tugged at his arm, as if warning him to let it go.

  “Whose phone did you track?” Jessica asked her brother.

  “Eva’s.” Luke arched a brow and his lips tightened as he observed Jessica, as if somehow knowing Eva spilled the truth about the I miss you text.

  But what if Eva hadn’t told her?

  Maybe she wouldn’t feel so torn looking at Asher right now. And her stomach wouldn’t hurt so damn much. It’d make keeping him at arm’s length easier, at least.

  Liam rubbed his palms together and came in for the save. “Well, we’re here. Why don’t we celebrate now?”

  “Celebrate? Does that mean everything went as planned?” Jessica’s brow rose as she tried to discreetly gather intel about their recon op for the president.

  “It went well,” Liam answered, but the man was staring directly at Emily as if she were the only one in the club.

  Great. Jessica sidestepped her friends to get closer to Liam. She pressed a hand to his chest so she could whisper in his ear. “Don’t even think about taking her to your hotel tonight. Understood?”

  From what Samantha had said a few months back, Emily had shit luck when it came to men, and the last thing she needed was Ladies-Man-Liam hurting her with his Aussie charm and disappearing act in the morning.

  Liam surrendered his palms but looked back at Emily . . . who was now being pulled away by Knox.

  Jessica stifled a groan.

  “I’ll give Knox the speech,” Samantha said with a smile, reading her thoughts. She grabbed Owen’s hand, and they followed Knox and Emily out onto the dance floor.

  “Do you want to stay, or finish tonight just the two of us?” Luke asked Eva, holding her by the hips.

  “Hmm. It was supposed to be ladies’ night.”

  “No, you two should go,” Jessica said.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” Eva replied.

  “I’ll make sure she gets home okay,” Liam said before Jessica had a chance to speak.

  “No on
e needs to babysit me.” She patted her wig, ensuring it was still secure. For a split second, she’d forgotten why she was wearing it.

  Luke let go of Eva and motioned Jessica away from the remaining crew. “How are you?”

  She found his eyes. “Nothing yet from Egon.”

  “That’s not what I was asking.”

  “Well, that’s what matters right now.”

  Luke squared a hand over her shoulder. “Jessica,” he hissed. “Talk to me.”

  She swirled a finger in the air and looked around. “Here?” She brought her hand to her ear now for dramatic emphasis. “I can barely hear anything. Why don’t we have a heart-to-heart at the office in the morning?” Or maybe never.

  “Will you be training with Asher before work?” He lowered his hand.

  “I don’t know.” At least her nightmares hadn’t returned, even with him gone. But she wasn’t sure if Asher would want to train with her after how she’d treated him before Mexico when she’d stabbed him with her finely pointed ice-like words.

  Luke took a hard breath. “Let Liam take you home when you’re ready. Okay?”

  “Sure.” She wasn’t in the mood to argue again.

  She waited for Eva and Luke to leave, gathered her thoughts, and then returned to the table where Liam and Asher were standing.

  Liam drummed his fingers on the table. “Can I at least have one dance with her?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Emily on the dance floor with Knox. “I should save her from him. The guy can do a lot of things, but dancing isn’t one of them.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Fine. But be good.”

  “Will do.” He winked and darted off.

  Shit—and now she was alone with Asher.

  “How are you?” Low. Deep. Hard as a fucking rock. His voice, at least.

  “So, you speak? I was beginning to wonder if you’d lost your voice along with your hair.” She stood opposite the table from him, hoping the bit of distance would help ease the tension that was stretching her chest like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

  “Funny,” he grumbled and lifted his hand to smooth it over his head. He probably missed his hair.

  “I can’t believe you cut it.” In the years they’d worked together, she’d never seen him with short hair.

  “Needed a change, anyway,” he said without looking at her. “You didn’t answer me, though.”

  She rolled her tongue over her teeth as she deliberated what to say. “Eva made me come here. I, uh, didn’t want to.” And I haven’t had enough to drink to deal with this moment. She thought about telling him about seeing Sarah, but what if that only added fuel to an already lit fire?

  His dad, she suddenly remembered. Asher probably didn’t want to be there, either. Of course, how much did Sarah still know about her brother? Maybe he’d hated Valentine’s Day when he was younger, but surely, he didn’t still despise the holiday.

  Then again, from what she could remember they were always on ops around this time of year, so he wouldn’t have been able to go out on a date with someone, anyway.

  “I’m sorry.” The unexpected words came out like a short puff of air.

  “For what?” He looked at her again, his eyes thinning.

  Cue the discomfort. Magnify it by ten.

  Deep breath in. And then out.

  “For how I treated you in my office. You were just looking out for me, and I’m a bit on edge right now.”

  “Understandable.”

  A bluster of nerves traveled up her spine at the gruff texture of his tone. Without thinking, she circled the table and lifted her hand to his chest. The memory of his text seared her mind.

  He wrapped a hand over her wrist as if he were going to remove her hand, but when her eyes journeyed to his, she saw a hard depth to his browns.

  “Do you want to dance?” she asked, not sure what the hell she was doing right now.

  “You think that’s a good idea?” His brow furrowed.

  “Probably not.” Her stomach turned at the idea of leaving the club without him, though. “But I’m not sure if I care right now.” This brush with honesty was intoxicating, and she wanted to lean in to it, to give in to the truth. To give in to him.

  He lifted his chin and glanced up at the second level of the club. A few people stood near the railing, observing the dancers below.

  Without responding, he took hold of her hand and guided her through the pack of people and toward their friends.

  Asher said something to Liam she couldn’t hear, and then led her off the dance floor and toward the spiral staircase.

  He kept his hold on her, never letting go—as if he was afraid she might run—and then they walked side by side up the flight of steps.

  The upstairs was less crowded, but the music still pulsed hard, practically rattling her body.

  They strode to a dimly lit area. He let go of her hand and motioned to an empty booth. “I need a drink first.” She was pretty sure he’d spoken through gritted teeth, his lips barely parting with his words. He gestured for a staff member.

  She settled onto the seat and smoothed her dress down.

  “I’m good,” she said when the cocktail server stopped by their table a beat later.

  “Maker’s Mark. Straight.” He rubbed both his palms down his face and stared at her from across the table once the server had vanished.

  An obvious unease spread across his face. She was beginning to wonder if maybe his discomfort wasn’t just about her. Maybe Sarah was right about the night.

  She didn’t want to bring it up, though. So, she pointed a finger in the air at the change in song. “One of my favorites.”

  He thanked the server after she’d delivered the drink and raised the tumbler to his lips, never taking his eyes off Jessica. “I like it,” he said before taking a swig.

  “You like rock music, I thought.”

  “Yeah, well, this house techno stuff is decent.”

  “‘House techno stuff’?” She smiled as he gulped down more of his drink, not even flinching from the straight liquor. “So, what really happened with the bet?”

  He set his drink down and rested his forearms on the table, and she focused on his hands. The knuckles still recovering from the damage he’d done last week at the fight club.

  “We were at a nightclub in Mexico City, keeping tabs on a courier for the cartel, and Knox made a bet.”

  “Yeah, I got that part. What kind of bet?” She leaned back and observed him.

  He scratched at his beard. “There was a woman.”

  Her stomach didn’t just drop at his words.

  It was a freefall. And no chute. Wind whooshed through her hair, and she was going to crumple upon contact with the ground.

  She reached across the table and took a hard swallow of his drink, nearly choking on it.

  A smile crossed his lips, the first of the evening. “You okay, Peaches?”

  A fluttering sensation blew through her chest. Unwelcome thoughts and feelings raining down over her. A hard case of jealousy. “I’m fine.” She pushed the drink back to him. “That’s, uh, strong.”

  “Mm-hm.” He drained the glass.

  “Since when do you mix business with pleasure on an op?” She forced the words out as steadily as possible, but she wondered if he could see the beats of her heart pumping relentlessly.

  He cocked his head to the side. “I don’t.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Yes. No. Damned if she knew what to say. “Why’d you even take his bet?”

  “I didn’t, which was the problem.”

  “I don’t follow.” She straightened a touch and rested her folded arms in front of her on the table.

  “He was trying to prove a point, Jessica.” The way he said her name sent goose bumps scattering across her skin. “I’d rather cut my hair than entertain a bet involving hitting on some woman in a club.”

  Her brows drew inward. “So, the
forfeit cost you your hair?” She rolled her tongue over her lips, wetting them. “Not very fair of him.”

  “Like I said, maybe I needed a change.” He roped a hand around the back of his neck and looked away from her.

  “Well, you had your drink. Do you still want to dance?” She shifted off the seat and stood, and his eyes dropped to her legs.

  The mother of all breaths left his lips as he rose in his black boots. “You seem better. Are you better?” He didn’t touch her yet, though. A foot of space still separated them.

  “I don’t know what I am,” she answered honestly as she stared deep into his eyes, losing herself. Her thoughts. Even the roadblocks between them.

  Gone. Gone. Gone.

  He kept his eyes on her as if getting a read, and then he did it—he closed the gap. He braced his hands on her hips, and her palms landed on his hard chest.

  Her lip quivered as she thought about his text before Egon had taken her in Berlin. The text she’d never had a chance to see.

  “Asher, I, uh.” She had to fight like hell to get the words out, but a touch of relief raced through her body when she’d managed, “I missed you while you were gone, and I . . .” Her throat thickened. “Be with me tonight.” A statement. Not a question.

  His head didn’t jerk back like she expected. But there was definite surprise in his eyes. Conflict, too. She didn’t blame him after their last conversation at her office, but he asked, “Only for tonight?”

  He wanted more, but would she ever be capable of more?

  “Could we start with tonight and see where—” His mouth stole her words, and his hands swooped from her hips to her face, holding her in place as his tongue twined with hers.

  She groaned against his lips, readying for him hard and fast.

  Her body hummed to life, chucking every last negative thought out of her head as she clung to ideas of what was to come.

  “Fuuck,” he murmured against her lips before pulling away. “We need to get out of here.”

  She found his eyes, his hands still on her face. “I know all of the exits,” she said breathlessly, still reeling from the kiss.

  He nodded but pressed his mouth to hers again, hungry for more.

  He had her backing up to one of the columns, and he pinned her to it, caging her with his body, not giving a damn who was around. “This dress,” he rasped as his hand traveled up her thigh and roamed over her flesh.