Free Real Men Last All Night by Cheyenne McCray Page A

channels and people in high places, and it kept off the radar of any other law enforcement. RED had ways of warning off local police from their ops, and RED agents "took care of business" in smooth, quick, and exact precision.
    It wasn't long before all the bodies and blood were taken care of and the site was left looking like it had before the transaction and the raid.
    Tires crunched over gravel as an agent drove the now-closed refrigeration truck to HQ to be processed. The ambulances and body wagons followed.
    A few moments more and all RED agents had cleared out and were headed back to HQ.
    As Team Supervisor and operation leader, Zane was one of the last agents to leave the scene. He gave one final appraisal then headed off to the location he'd left his RED-issued Trailblazer.

Chapter 12
    "Double caramel venti frappuccino up for Willow!" a barista called out.
    Yum. Willow went to the Starbucks pickup counter and grabbed her drink, the plastic cup instantly chilling her hand. She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. It was heavy, as usual, with her small laptop weighting it. As soon as she finished drinking her frap she'd head to the library and work on her dissertation defense.
    A pair of women vacated a small round table in the corner of the crowded coffee shop and Willow plopped into one of the chairs the moment it was empty. She scores, she thought and almost laughed then rolled up the sleeves of her white button-up blouse. She unwrapped and plunged her straw into her frappuccino.
    Before she had a chance to take one sip, a man said, "Anyone sitting here?"
    Automatically Willow shook her head as she looked up. The I place was crowded and she was lucky to have grabbed a chair, so she didn't mind sharing.
    The man smiled when she met his gaze. She started to smile in return but a prickly sensation sent goose bumps rising on her arms. Something didn't feel quite right about the way he looked at her with his dark eyes as he took the opposite seat.
    He had beautifully carved features and night-black hair. He ex-tended his hand. "Filippo,"
    he said. His accent was clearly Italian like his name.
    Willow didn't want to take his hand but she forced a smile and let him take hers. His was hot and dry, and more prickles rolled up her arm. He didn't take his gaze off of her and she had to tug to get her hand away from his.
    "What is your name?" he asked in his smooth, accented voice. Then she noticed the man didn't even have a cup of coffee. Zane's and Aunt Becky's words echoed in her head at the same time, telling her not to be too friendly with strangers. She'd always followed her heart and her gut, and both were telling her to get the hell out of here.
    "Oops!" Willow faked another smile as she wrapped her fingers around her frappuccino cup and pushed back her chair. "I forgot I'm supposed to meet up with my trainer. He's a former football player and he's so tough. He'll probably make me do extra reps."
    She was on her feet and pushing her way through the crowded coffee shop before he had a chance to say a word.
    As she opened the glass door to let herself out, she caught a reflection—the man was following her.
    Willow's heart lunged into her throat. She tossed the frap that she hadn't even sipped into the black waste can beside the door and swung around the door as fast as she could without running.
    You're imagining things, Willow. There's not some man following you. But she looked over her shoulder and she saw he was near and his long strides were taking him closer to her.
    Oh, my God. He was following her. Willow glanced around and saw a large group of tourists on the Freedom Trail and ran straight into the middle of the crowd.
    Immediately she realized she had a new problem. At five-eleven she towered over the group that was mostly comprised of foreigner visitors who were at least five inches shorter than she was.
    The Italian joined the crowd and before she could move ahead, the man cupped her elbow with his hot,