He’d put the weapon down, so he couldn’t see her face clearly, not with the distance that separated them. But he was aware that his heart beat too fast. His hands had been sweating.
A sharpshooter wasn’t supposed to get nervous, wasn’t supposed to feel on the mission.
But whenever he was close to Sydney, all he could do was feel.
He packed up his weapon and hurried down to her. Because lately, it was always about her.
Day and night. Whether he was awake or asleep, he was obsessed with the woman.
Cale and Logan had secured the scene by the time he got down to the front of the house, and Cale was leading some sobbing redhead from the cabin. So Sydney had been right. Hall had already taken his next victim. If they hadn’t moved then, would she have been dead by nightfall?
“Good shot.” Sydney’s voice was quiet.
Gunner’s body tensed. He knew he should hold on to his control, but…the gun had been at her temple. If Hall hadn’t hesitated, Gunner would have watched while the man put a hole in her head.
So he ignored the wide stare that Logan gave him and stalked to Sydney. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her against him. “You took too much of a risk.”
Her short blond hair shone in the light. Her cheeks stained red—he didn’t know if that red was from fury or embarrassment.
“I did my job,” Sydney said through gritted teeth, lifting her chin. “I told you that my intel indicated a new hostage. She was hidden in the closet. If I hadn’t moved in—”
He pulled her even closer. “He could have killed you.” Then what would I have done?
Her voice dropped. “You say it like that matters to you.”
Her words were whispered, carrying only to his ears.
Damn it, she did matter. “Sydney…”
“You’re the one who wants to be hands-off,” she snapped with a hard flash of her green eyes. “So why are you holding on to me so tightly?”
He was. Too tightly. He dropped her wrist as if he’d been burned.
“I’m not waiting any longer,” Sydney told him as she straightened her shoulders. “Death can come at any moment, and I told you once…I’m not crawling into the grave with Slade.”
Yes, she’d told him that, when he’d made the mistake of getting too close to Sydney on their last case. They’d been trapped during a storm, forced together in a small cabin, and all he’d been able to think was…
I want her.
But he’d—barely—managed to stop himself from taking what he wanted. He did have some self-control. Unfortunately, with her, that self-control was growing weaker every day.
“I’m going to start living my life on my terms,” Sydney told him. “Consider yourself warned.”
Then she spun away. Sydney headed toward Cale and the redhead. More backup had swarmed the scene. Other EOD agents who’d come to lend their support for the rescue-and-takedown operation.
Gunner stared after Sydney, feeling…lost.
Then Logan cleared his throat. “I’ve seen that look before.”
Gunner glared at him. Logan might be the team leader for the Shadow Agents, and Gunner considered him as a friend most days, but the man should know not to—
“Better watch yourself, or you might just lose something important.”
Sydney had already walked away. Logan didn’t understand.
She was never mine to lose.
THE BAR WAS too loud. The place was packed with too many people, and coming there, well, it had been a serious mistake.
Sydney huffed out a hard breath and pushed her barely sipped drink away. She’d gotten back to the States just hours before—finally gotten a break for some serious R & R time, and she’d gone home to Baton Rouge.
But it didn’t feel like home anymore.
So many missions. So many places.
They were all blending together into a hail of gunfire and death.
“A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be sitting alone.” The voice, marked with the Cajun that she loved, came from her right.
Sydney’s gaze rose, and she found herself staring at a tall, blond man. He was handsome, with the kind of good looks that probably drew women all the time.
So why isn’t he drawing me?
She’d come to that bar to find someone like him. It seemed as if she’d been living in a void for the past two years of her life, and she wanted—so desperately wanted—to start feeling again.
The blond glanced at her drink. “Don’t you like it?”
Sydney shook her head. “It’s not what I wanted.”
He pulled up the bar stool next to her, leaned in close. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
A stranger, a guy who didn’t know her at all, and he looked at her with more warmth than Gunner did.
Don’t think about him. This was not supposed to be another Gunner night.
She forced a smile on her face. Gunner was miles away. He always had been. This man, he was right in front of her. She wanted to live, and here was her chance. “I’m really not sure,” she said softly. The words were the truth.
What did she want?
Gunner.
That wasn’t happening. Time to consider other options.
The guy leaned toward her. “How about we start with a dance, then? Maybe that will help you figure out just what you want.”
How long had it been since she’d danced with someone? Too long.
“I’m Colin,” he said, giving her a broad smile. “And I promise, I’m a good guy.”
As if she could believe a promise from a stranger. She’d met far too many dangerous, lying men for that.
“I’m Sydney.” She took the hand that he offered to her. “I guess one dance—”
She broke off, her words stuttering to a halt because she’d just met the dark gaze of the man who’d entered the bar. A man who should not have been there.
A man whose stare was hot enough to burn.
Colin stiffened beside her as he followed her gaze. “Problem?”
Yes. No. Maybe. If Gunner was there, then there could be a new mission. There had to be a new mission. There was no other reason for Gunner to be in Baton Rouge instead of up in D.C.
But why hadn’t Logan just called her?
Gunner was stalking toward her.
“I thought you were here alone,” Colin said softly.
“I am.” He still had her hand, and that felt wrong all of a sudden.
Maybe because Gunner’s gaze had dipped to their hands. Hardened.
“Then you want to tell me why that guy looks like he’s about to rip me apart?”
Gunner did look that way. But Gunner usually looked tough. It was his face. Not handsome like Colin’s. Not perfect. It was full of hard angles and dangerous edges. With his golden skin and that jet-black hair, he always looked like walking, talking danger