Maya Banks - Shades of Gray

Her eyes widened as she stared back at Dolphin, who was peering at her in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t as if it was an out-of-the-ordinary question, especially coming from Dolphin, who had no couth. The whole “one of the guys” thing. But his timing sucked ass.

Cole turned in his seat and sent her a wicked grin. “Yeah, P.J., when was the last time you got nasty between the sheets?”

She flipped them both off and turned her gaze out the window as they flew down the interstate.

She dozed on and off, trying to block out the memory of the night before. She was jerked awake when her head bumped the window, and she straightened to see they were driving down a long dirt driveway.

“Wow,” she said.

“Yeah,” Cole replied. “Impressive.”

Acres of rolling pasture spread out on either side of the driveway. In the distance a huge pond glistened in the fading afternoon sun. Horses grazed sporadically. She hadn’t imagined Steele to be a horse person.

A sprawling ranch house was situated in the middle of the small block of acreage that was cleared. Thick forest surrounded them on all sides, and knowing Steele, he likely owned it all and controlled access as tightly as they did Fort Knox.

“Hey, did you have to give a blood sample at the gate?” P.J. said as she leaned forward.

Dolphin chuckled. “He damn near made me get out and drop trou to give him a urine specimen.”

P.J. grinned. They gave Steele shit privately, but to his face—and behind his back too—they gave him absolute respect. They might joke about how much of a hard-ass he was, but he had their unwavering loyalty.

Steele had given her a chance. Despite her past, her record. He’d looked beyond what was on paper and the fact that she’d walked away from a position on a S.W.A.T. team, and he’d believed in her.

In return she gave him one hundred and fifty percent every time.

Their team was kick-ass and she knew so without false modesty. They worked like a well-oiled machine. She and Cole were damn good snipers. Baker and Renshaw were the muscle and the brains behind explosives and tactical maneuvers. Dolphin was their utility man. He could do a little bit of everything, whatever the team needed. Steele was just one badass motherfucker and he could do it all.

Not that Cole wasn’t just as much of a badass . . . But he, more often than not, was sniping with P.J. He’d actually scared her shitless when he’d taken a bullet when the teams had gone into Colombia to rescue Rachel Kelly from a fucked-up situation.

She’d never admit it. Not in a million years.

Now it made her think of Dolphin’s own close call not so long ago.

“Hey man, you feeling okay?” she asked as they pulled to a stop behind the other parked vehicles.

Baker and Renshaw were obviously already there.

Dolphin turned with a lifted brow. “What’s this? Concern from my teammate?”

She scowled. “Of course I’m concerned. Did you get clearance for this?”

He shook his head and got out of the truck and then politely opened her door for her.

“I’m fine,” he said, when she stared up at him.

He held up his fist and she smiled and bumped it. Cole tossed her the bag that he got out of the bed of the truck, and they headed toward the doorway.

“About time you two got here,” Steele said from the front porch. “Where you been, Coletrane? I figured you’d be here long before now.”

“Was out of town,” Cole said easily. “Thought we were getting some R and R. I caught up with P.J. at the airport and Dolphin gave us both a ride in.”

Steele grimaced. “Yeah, sorry about having to call you up.”

“So what’s going on, boss man?” Dolphin asked. “Why did you call us up so quickly? Must be some heavy shit going down, right?”

Steele turned and motioned them inside. “I’ll give you the report with the others. We don’t have a lot of time.”

THEYstepped inside the spacious foyer of Steele’s home, and P.J. curiously took in as much as possible as he walked the two steps down into the sunken living room.

It was all male, rugged and outdoorsy. It had the look of a hunting lodge. Rustic. Something you might find in the mountains alongside a trout stream.

Wood floor, cedar furniture, huge stone fireplace. There were several taxidermy pieces, from a huge elk over the fireplace to the mule deer mounted directly across the room facing the elk.

A bear rug covered the floor in front of the fireplace, and several other animal hides were either pinned to the walls or covering the backs of the furniture.

It looked like a hunter’s paradise. And, well, Steele was essentially the biggest badass hunter there was. He just happened to hunt men along with what other big game he hunted.

To her surprise, when they entered the living room, Donovan Kelly was seated with Baker and Renshaw on one of the far couches.

Van, as he was called by those close to him, ran KGI with his brothers Sam and Garrett. More recently their younger brothers, Ethan, Nathan and Joe, had joined their ranks, but the three older Kellys essentially ran the show.

Donovan was the computer geek, and while some people would look at him compared to his hulking Neanderthals for brothers and immediately think nerd , Donovan was a badass through and through. P.J. had a lot of respect for him.

He was quiet. Didn’t need to be loud to get his point across. Plus he was smart, and for P.J. there was nothing sexier than a smart man. And if he happened to be a complete badass too? The perfect package.

“Hey, there they are,” Baker called out as he scrambled off the couch.

There was a moment of fist bumping and grasping of hands as the team reunited. One would think they’d been separated forever instead of just three days. But they also knew that in their line of work, there was always the possibility that one of them wouldn’t come back from a mission.

It was a reality they lived with, and it made them closer. While P.J. might cringe at the thought of having people close to her, this was essentially her family. A whole bunch of big brothers. Well, except for Cole. She’d pretty much axed any chance she’d ever look at him as a sibling. Not that she ever had anyway.

Steele and Donovan were both looking at her oddly, and she couldn’t shake the sensation that somehow everything she and Cole had done the night before was on her face for the world to see.

Donovan moved to her side, gave her a greeting, but it seemed grim. Alarm prickled up her spine. This had nothing to do with any silly self-consciousness she was feeling. Donovan wouldn’t be here at all if this weren’t a pretty damn important mission.

“Have a seat,” Steele told everyone.

He and Donovan both remained standing as the others slouched on the couch and in the chairs. P.J. made sure to grab the only available spot left on the couch next to Baker and Renshaw, forcing Cole to take one of the unoccupied armchairs across from the sofa.

Steele took a deep breath. P.J. honed in on his mood with pinpoint accuracy. He was hesitant, which flabbergasted her, because he wasn’t the hesitating type. Steele was nothing if not to the point.

“I apologize for calling all of you up after you were promised time off. Something came up, though. Something big.”

P.J. and the others leaned forward. Everyone had gone completely still at his announcement, because, indeed, it would have to be big to elicit this kind of reaction.

Steele turned to Donovan, who stepped forward, his expression one of utter seriousness.

“Carter Brumley is one of the largest traffickers of children in the world. He likes them young, preferably in the range of eight to twelve, and he deals exclusively in females.”