Free Operative Attraction by RaeLynn Blue

The Jump Off
     
    Having just returned from our long-awaited European road trip, where we ’d spent the last month gazing at the castles, cathedrals, and villas of Europe and Greece , before flying over to the Nassau for a few days of fun, we needed about a week to unwind.  Well, at least I (Jayha) did.  Though I felt that I ’d walked all of Europe , that wasn’t what made me tired.  What had wor n me slam out was trying to keep Jeanie from accidentally starting some kind of world war with her “tact ; ” trying to keep Dréa and Shara out of foreign prison; trying to stop Reid from attempting to pull off a coup d’êtat and declaring herself ruler of the Louis Vuitton headquarters; trying to keep Yazmin from peek ing under the kilts of the H ighland hotties in Scotland; having to forcibly pull Raelynn screaming and kicking from the sci/fi convention they were having in London; and keeping Laura from being kidnapped and forcibly married by either of the captains of the rival soccer teams who’ d all decided she should wear their rings and bear their soccer progeny.  It’d be one thing if they played football, but it was just soccer , so I couldn’t allow that.
    I ’d managed to get the Posse back stateside with zero felonies, riots, or major incidents.  Okay, sure , Jeanie is no longer allowed in Sweden (which is ironic being that we didn’t visit any of the Scandinavian countries); Dréa’s no longer allowed to even speak the name of Lichtenstein; Shara’s barred from ever again stepping foot in any of the Baltic countries; and we had to get two additional sets of luggage for Reid’s handbag purchases.  All of that was balanced out by the fact that Yazmin got a holiday named after her in Scotland (don’t ask; don’t tell , but I now know what Scotsmen wear under their kilts) , and we all got to spend a week in a castle thanks to the Spanish hotties who had a crush on Laura.  I prevented disaster after disaster without nary a drop of iced tea…and without spilling a drop of blood.
    So yeah, I needed a vacation to rest from the vacation.  And that wa s just what I’d spent the past week doing: chilling.  Taking a swig of my tart lemonade, I settled deeper into my chair and propped my feet on the footrest.  Pausing, I took a moment to admire the red leather boots with the gold tops.  They didn’t go with a damn thing I had on , but no one here could call me on it, especially when every other woman was wearing the same damn shoes.  Per the rules, every posse member had to wear the boots at some point during the day , and it just so happened we all fell into the habit of wearing them during afternoon tea.
    As I was t hinking about the massage I had scheduled, my musings were interrupted by a stream of cussing the likes of which I hadn’t heard since this morning when I was coming down from my post-culinary bliss.  Hey, the turtle cheesecake was the b-diggity , and if you’d wrapped your lips around it, you’d be cussing too.  Opening my eyes, I turned and peered in the direction of the curses.  Twenty seconds later I saw a man come running down the center of the street.  Hot on his heels was Shara on her ATV, bayonet in one hand—and not just any bayonet , but one with a beautiful black blade with a serrated edge—the handlebars in the other.
    While it wasn’t strange for Shara to be running someone out of town , being she was the benevolent despot and all, what was strange was the outfit she was rocking while doing it.  Wearing a midnight blue cupped overbust corset in silk with black lace overlay, six shirred garters and her W onder W oman boots, Shara was a sight to behold.  And so were her survival skills.  Pulling even with the guy, she reached out and kicked him in the back of the knee , sending him sprawling.  Executing a hundred and eighty degree turn , she brought the ATV to a stop, jumped up on the seat and did a spinning scissor kick , catching the unlucky guy in the