The Omega Team

"I'm hit, Grey." Pain laced Lucky's voice. "Hit real bad." Grey cradled his friend in his arms, desperately trying to staunch the rapid flow of blood from the man's chest. They had a medic with them, but he was just off to Grey's right, tending another man who had been hit. "We'll get you patched up," Grey told him, trying to make himself heard over the continued barrage of gunfire. "You'll be fine. You're too mean to die." Lucky shook his head once, grimacing in pain at the movement. "Get…this…son of…a bitch," he ground out. "Kill him." Grey knew exactly who he meant. Fantasma. Ghost. Everyone in the intelligence community knew of him, but identifying him was another thing. Probably the main reason they called him Ghost. He was invisible, leaving no trace and evaporating into the night. But JSOC had gotten a lead on who it might be, information they shared with no one except Grey's SOG team. The more the information was shared, the greater the chance for disaster. Like tonig

Grey couldn't have asked for a better night for this mission. And that was what it was, in reality. A mission, just as important as so many others he'd been on. Maybe even more, because this involved a promise and a commitment that was intensely personal. There were no stars at all in the sky, and the tiny sliver of moon barely cast any light. The soft breeze rustling the leaves on the mature pin oaks and palm trees would cover any sound he might make, although he'd shock himself if he created even as much as a whisper. He'd used all the information he'd gathered in his one visit to the community to plot this mission on his laptop. It amazed him how easy it was to identify the weak spots in Tanglewood security as well as Drake Bostic's house. It was almost laughable what civilians, even those with a lot to hide like the senator, thought was foolproof protection. Maybe against the average crook, but not against a trained Delta Force soldier. He waited until full dark before he made

Grey kept a sharp eye on the woman stretched out on his couch. He'd been very careful with the amount of pressure he'd applied to render her unconscious, and he hoped he hadn't misjudged this time. Getting her back to his SUV had been a bitch. He'd thought about trying to walk her back, pretending she'd had too much to drink, but wasn't sure that would work. He finally thought himself back to a firefight zone, tossed her over one shoulder, and zigzagged to his point of exit. He even managed to get her over the wall and into his vehicle without anyone seeing them, miracle of miracles. And don't even ask about the magic tricks he pulled to get her car moved to his place. He had no idea who she was. The clothes she wore had no pockets, so she wasn't carrying any identification. He hadn't even been able to find the key to her car, and hadn't that taken some fast talking with the tow truck guy. All the while, by the way, cursing the added attention he might be calling to himself. But leav

Athena gave the man sitting across from her an unblinking look. She couldn't figure out what the hell his game was. Other than rendering her unconscious, of course, and hauling her ass to…wherever the hell they were, he hadn't harmed her. Hadn't drawn a weapon. Hadn't restrained her from leaving, although she was pretty damn sure he'd strike quick as a snake if she tried. Hadn't made any threatening moves, although he had an air about him that said they lay just below the surface. Unexpected raw sensuality simmered in the room like a heavy fog, tantalizing their senses. She sensed danger around him, but, oddly enough, not to herself. Broad shoulders defined a lean body rippling with muscle, and he had the air of a jungle animal, a panther stealthily stalking its prey until it was ready to pounce. Every hormone in her body did a tarantella trying to get her attention. There was an electricity about him, a raw sensuality that made her want to rip off her clothes and his even as she a

Grey looked at the woman sitting across the table from him. She was almost as much a hard case as he was, but he could tell Lucky's story had moved her deeply. Some intangible something gave him the sense he could trust her, so he walked her through the basics of his plan, making sure she understood all of the risks involved. He also checked her out on some of the electronics he'd purchased. He wasn't yet ready to read her in on everything he'd found on Bostic's thumb drives, but he gave her a brief overview. By tomorrow, if his gut still told him to trust her, he'd be ready to formulate some plans with her. She knew far more about Bostic and about Tampa than he did, and it paid to take advantage of that. They had finished the pot of coffee, although they were both so fueled by adrenaline he doubted they'd even needed it. What they did need, however, was some rest so they could get to the meat of the planning. He had been meticulous about leaving no trace at Bostic's house, but with