Sharpshooter (Shadow Agents 3)

The floor creaked behind him, and then Sydney’s soft hands were on his shoulders, curling over him. Her touch was warm, soft, and he remembered all the ways that she had touched him during their night together. The ways he’d touched her.

The ways he would touch her again.

He had Sydney now, and he didn’t plan to let her go. Gunner turned toward her. His fingers skimmed over the curve of her cheek. He’d spent the past two years guarding her, determined to protect her from any danger that came their way.

Because Sydney seemed drawn to the danger.

She was the strongest woman he’d ever met, and her brain—hell, the things the lady could do with a computer amazed him. She’d been in the air force, he knew that. A lieutenant colonel. So in addition to her computer skills, there was no plane the woman couldn’t fly. She’d flown their team out of more than a few hot spots around the world.

Slade had been a pilot, too. Not in the air force, though. His brother had done a stint in the army, then gotten civilian flying lessons after his tour of duty.

On a charter run to South America, Slade’s plane had crashed in the wrong spot at the wrong time.

Against orders, Sydney and Gunner had gone in after him.

But they’d failed to bring him home.

“Gunner?” Her voice was soft.

He’d pulled her out of the jungle in Peru. He’d been so afraid she’d die on him. Her blood had stained his hands. She’d shuddered and jerked, cried out desperately.

For Slade.

But Gunner had been the one there for her. He’d always be there for her.

He offered her a smile, when he wasn’t normally the type to smile. He wasn’t like Cale or Logan. They could flirt and charm at will. He knew he had a dangerous edge. One that frightened more than it charmed.

But Sydney didn’t seem frightened. He shook his head and asked, “Why?”

She blinked; then her blond eyebrows rose in confusion.

“Why me?” he asked her. He should have probably just kept quiet, but, hell, he was no prize. His body was scarred...sliced open, literally. He’d been caught by the enemy more times than he wanted to count. And during one bloody, pain-filled capture, he’d been sure that death would take him.

His captors had tied him up and come at him with a knife. They’d wanted information. He hadn’t given it to them, so they’d sliced him over and over on his stomach, his chest. Cuts meant to break him.

But he’d gotten away.

They’d died.

There was nothing light or easy about him—nothing safe.

So why in the hell did Sydney want to be with him? She could have anyone.

“What do you mean?” Sydney still seemed confused.

She was so beautiful. Fragile, though that delicacy was a deception, he knew.

“Why was it me...and not someone else?” Not that guy in the bar who’d had his hands all over her. Sydney could have taken another lover over the past two years. She hadn’t. He knew because he always watched her too closely.

If she had tried to take another lover, what would he have done?

Better not think about it.

With her, his control could be a delicate thing. If she’d actually turned to another, Gunner wasn’t sure that his control would have lasted. That other guy would have found himself in a battle.

“I’m with you because you remind me that I’m alive.” Her smile seemed bittersweet. “When I’m with you, I feel. I want. I need.”

He felt too much when he was with her. That was dangerous—for them both.