Free #2 Dangerous Games by Lora Leigh Page B

had kept his eyes lowered, his expression filled with sympathy, as Clint pushed the girl. Grant had actually muttered an "amen" when she stalked from the apartment.
    "She reminded me of Maggie," Grant sighed. "Full of fire."
    Joe grunted absently, watching the house. Clint McIntyre was one hard-ass. He was one of the regulars at the upper-scale bondage clubs and well-known for his extreme tastes in sex. Spanking, toys, butt fucking. He was good to the women, but he pushed them, pushed the limits of their sexuality as well as their endurance.
    Some of the women he'd had in the last few years said he could fuck for hours without breaking pace and then start again with only a light nap. Hell, Joe hadn't done that since he was eighteen. McIntyre's testosterone level must be off the damned charts. That or he was trying to screw a hunger out of his system that wouldn't die. Joe understood that one. He understood that one too well.
    "So why are we here?" Grant shifted in his seat, working to get more comfortable. "Clint's in the back watching the house, and I can't see where we're needed."
    "That attempted hit bothers me, man," Joe finally admitted. "Her cover couldn't have been cracked. No way in hell."

    "There's never no way in hell," Grant pointed out wearily. "Anything's possible."
    Yeah, no shit. It wasn't something Joe should have forgotten. Hell, he hadn't forgotten; that was why Grant was here missing out on his wife and bitching over it. Joe didn't have the same trust in the others.
    Joe shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this one, brother. A bad feeling all the way around."
    "Not good," Grant muttered.
    No, it wasn't good. Joe lived his life by his gut; he always had. It was one of the reasons he'd left the SEALs, one of the reasons he'd taken command of this task force.
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    "So why are we here?" Grant asked again. "I could be curled around my Maggie, sleeping peacefully, Joe. McIntyre ain't stupid. He'll watch her tonight."
    That was Joe's intention. Clint needed time to assess the situation, to think about things awhile without interference. If that hit was against Morganna and another came too soon, then he'd jerk her out of the assignment and cart her off gagged and bound. Joe couldn't afford that. He needed the other man in this assignment fast.
    "We'll help him watch her awhile," Joe murmured. "You can sleep tomorrow."
    "Man, Maggie ain't in the bed through the day. You suck, Joe," Grant griped.
    Yeah, yeah, yeah. Grant was missing one pitiful night with his wife. So what? Joe was missing every night with his.
    "If I were that mean-assed SEAL, I'd cart little Morganna off as hard and fast as possible and tell you to kiss my ass," Grant continued. "What makes you think he won't?"
    "She won't let him." A tight smile curved Joe's lips. "She's had a taste of adrenaline, Grant. A taste of danger. She likes it. She likes it real well. And she's damned good at the job."
    He knew the signs, knew the fire that burned in the eyes and in the soul. It made her careful, but it pushed her, made her eager for the job. Given a few more years, a little balance and experience, she would be a damned good agent.
    "You're a bastard, Joe," Grant accused, his voice low, sad. "You've really sunk, man. You knew what you were doing when you let her come in, didn't you?"
    "Did I know McIntyre would follow?" he asked knowingly. "Yeah, I knew. Just like I made sure she was in the right place at the right time when I needed him. I'm good like that." Maneuvering it had been a bitch, though.
    "You're evil like that." It wasn't a compliment. "He'll kill you if he finds out."
    "So?" If McIntyre found it, then it meant the operation had been completed successfully. That was all that mattered. Nothing mattered but the mission.
    "You scare me sometimes, buddy," Grant whispered. "Sometimes you really, really scare me."
    "I'll watch your ass." That one was a given.