Mastered By The Mavericks by Angel Payne Page A

and vinegar? Oh, bring it on. “Let’s get something clear, sweetheart. I don’t say what I don’t mean, and I don’t
     expect to be questioned about it at every turn. Reb’s going to bell this cat faster
     if he’s on his own, instead of over-the-shouldering about us the whole time.” He jabbed
     a finger back toward the house. “We can both be bigger assets to him from that office,
     feeding him information like traffic patterns and police chatter, than waiting for
     him in some field with our thumbs up our arses and our hearts in our throats.”
    Wait.
    What the hell ?
    Our hearts in our —
    Christ.
    What the fuck’s going on now , asshole ?
    That shit violated every last code between Rebel and him. It didn’t matter that they
     were unwritten, unspoken codes; they just were . Chatting up garbage like their “hearts” was no-man’s land—forbidden territory, no
     matter what tenor the conversation took. Just because the team mix was different didn’t
     mean the rules could change. At least they weren’t supposed to.
    But they had.
    Because Rebel had let them.
    Exchanged things with this woman up in that plane. Things like bodily fluids.
    So yeah, the rules were changing. He just wished to hell he knew which ones, and how
     much.
    Time to wing it, mate.
    “Look.” He met her gaze as he launched back in. “You belong on this op, Brynn. It
     was why I stood up to that wanker for you last night.” A tick of his head indicated
     Rebel as the subject of the wanker reference. “You’re going to get to do your part.
     You will help us find Zoe. But only if you’re alive for it. For that to happen, Rebel and I call all the shots right now.”
    She pursed her lips. Really wasn’t necessary. The hot spice of her eyes conveyed her
     frustration clearly enough. “So…what? Just sit down, shut up, and take orders?”
    “In less than ten words?” he rejoined. “Yes.”
    “In less than five words, Sergeant, fuck you.”
    Karma was going to find some grand retribution for his reaction to that—but at least
     he managed to rein in his grin before it broke all the way free. How could he be blamed
     when she was so damn enticing, snitting at him like a tomboy denied a spot in the
     dodgeball game, but stopping directly between Reb and him, hands coiled as regally
     as a princess?
    When she stamped a boot down—holy shit, stamped her foot—he made karma no more promises on his composure. He was saved by glancing
     over at Reb, and catching the same struggle on his face.
    Well…shit, part fucking two. He didn’t even want to think about being on the same
     page with Moonstormer again. Man-slut Stafford didn’t get to flash his damn charm
     and bounce off the shame hook so easily this time. But that wasn’t getting addressed
     anytime soon. Put it in the box—but keep it on top .
    At least focusing on that task cleared the way for a shot of calm. “Peach—” Which
     apparently, didn’t cover his verbal filter. The word begged to be let out whenever
     he looked at her, the color defining so much of her beauty. “We all do things we don’t
     want to do, for the sake of the—”
    She cut him off with a splayed hand to his breastbone. “For the sake of the mission?”
     she shot. “You’re seriously going there? Let me save you the effort, Sergeant. I’ve
     heard that one before, in much more creative ways.”
    The calm was nice while it lasted. No way was it holding up to the confusion she’d
     just brought down in an avalanche. Out of pure instinct, he looked to Reb again. Once
     more, the guy’s face mirrored his thoughts. Step carefully. Somehow, they’d pinged a sensitive nerve—demonstrated to the hilt by her sudden shove
     back, finished by a bitter laugh.
    “Yep. Heard them,” she rasped. “Even liked them. Still do. That’s my damn problem,
     isn’t it? Let’s see… ‘Embrace the suck’. That’s a good one. Or how about ‘bite the
     bullet’? I also enjoy ‘watch my