She smiled at the man, and Jude’s hands clenched. Her smiles were his. Not Reynolds’s. Chase was his brother-in-arms, his teammate, but he’d drop the man with a punch to the throat if he didn’t stop ogling Ella’s ass.
“What are you doing here?” Jude asked and almost winced at the harshness of his voice.
She speared him with her gaze.
“She got the call. Nina can’t ride because she’s sick, maybe food poisoning,” King McNally said from the doorway to his office before Ella could respond.
Jude met his leader’s eyes and let his frustration communicate along the path between them. King shrugged, but there was zero apology. Each of the men and women of Endgame had been hand-selected for their various talents. So while Jude may hate the fact that his woman was going to be in harm’s way, there wasn’t shit he could do about it. This wasn’t his kingdom. He was simply a member of the king’s court.
So he lowered his eyes and went back to making sure his jump bag was ready. They were taking off in a few minutes for DC. From there, it would take them roughly twelve hours to make it to Israel and then on to Beirut.
“You okay?” Ella’s soft voice tickled his ears and made his dick harden behind his cargo pants.
“Yep,” he responded in a clipped tone.
She didn’t say anything else. Goddamn, he hated when she was near danger.
He felt her staring at him, but he had to shut it down. If he kept her in the forefront of his mind, the chance he could fuck up and put her further in danger increased. It took a will of iron, but he’d been honed in the fires of BUD/S training. They called him Keeper because that’s what he did. He kept his calm in the midst of danger and kept his team safe. And Ella was a part of that team—albeit the most important, but she was still team. And he’d not treat her any differently than he would the other men heading out with them.
He’d at least try.
He put his bag over his shoulder and stood straight, staring at her across the bunker until her gaze rose to meet his.
“Safe, Ella,” he said with force. They were the only words he’d take her on this mission with. He wouldn’t speak to her the same way they did at the house on the beach; it would be spec ops only.
She held up six fingers. “I’ve got your six,” she said in an equally hard voice. Then she smiled and ruined the effect. His Ella was softness incarnate.
He nodded, and the men around them didn’t acknowledge the interaction between him and Ella. They knew better. Hell, he’d almost kicked Chase’s ass a few weeks ago for daring to bring it up. Jude wouldn’t have her embarrassed. If this were a regular branch of the service, they’d have been discharged months ago for fraternization.
“Wheels up, men,” King ordered.
They piled into the C-130 transport plane, and as they rose and their view of the ground grew fainter, an eerie feeling swept over Jude. He pushed it down and chalked it up to the fears his woman had voiced last night. He glanced at her and found her staring at him.
As the feeling wound its way through his mind, he let her gaze center him. He’d never give in to the doubts. He couldn’t afford to. He was a soldier and, as such, dealt in possibilities and outcomes. He knew there was always the possibility he wouldn’t come home, and accepting that brought calm in the midst of every storm. Still the feeling persisted, raising the hair on the back of his neck and not letting him go.
In thoughts of all the potential outcomes, he allowed a single assertion to keep him moving forward. She was his, and he would do his job on this mission to ensure that nothing was allowed to harm her.
Nothing.
He rested his head against the hard metal bowels of the plane, needing some sleep before they hit their target. When he opened his eyes again, they were landing at an Israeli airfield. Endgame was a private entity, providing security for contractors and military personnel alike on the ground throughout the world. In reality, they were black ops, always working in the undefined gray. They took the missions the United States couldn’t—traversed some of the worst hellholes the United States couldn’t send their military personnel into.
They were hidden from the public behind the persona of a military contractor, doing the things that needed to be done but couldn’t be admitted. Because of their founder, a man known as the Piper because he pulled the strings, they had access to military installations the world over, and they had access to allies of the United States. Hence the C-130 and the Israeli airfield.
Once they disembarked, they checked their weapons, went over mission spec ops once more, and boarded a Black Hawk helicopter. The feeling Jude had had when they’d left the States had dissipated.
Ella was seated beside their team leader. Kingston McNally was a fine soldier and an even better leader. He’d pulled Jude out of a bad situation in Syria last year and had had his loyalty ever since. Not that he hadn’t had it before, but there was something about having your ass saved that engendered lifelong fealty to your savior.
And still Jude loved jacking with his team leader. “Oh, Your Hiiiighness…”
King flipped him off and kept his head tilted back against the wall of the bird. Jude let his laugh escape on a rough bark. King was a tough son of a bitch, but he hated helicopters. It was a source of much laughter among his men.
“Seriously, sir, Ella wants to hear about Serbia.” Ella’s anxiety communicated across the small space between them. It was abhorrent to Jude. He’d do damn near anything to lighten the atmosphere. Messing with his team leader helped him meet
