The roguish grin returned.“Saturn 3andPiranha II.”
Another round of groans erupted, but was quickly extinguished when Sierra Page walked through the entryway, wearing gray yoga pants and a teal tank top that hugged her toned torso and accentuated her cleavage.Her hair was gathered into a loose knot, and even though she didn’t wear a stitch of makeup, she looked poised to walk the red carpet.She was probably pretty used to that, to men stopping dead in their tracks whenever she graced them with her presence.
Sloane never had that problem.Most of the time, she considered it a good thing.There were benefits to moving through life unnoticed, like not having to hire private security to ward off creepy ex-boyfriends and crazed fans.But every so often, she kind of wished a man would look at her like that, like she was the only thing in the universe that mattered.
A note of amusement crossed Sierra’s face.Her fingers toyed with the neckline of her tank top, drawing even more attention to her cleavage, as if that was needed.“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”
“Nope, not at all,” Jackson said.“If you’re hungry, there’s eggs and chorizo hash in the kitchen.The bacon’s gone, but if you’d like, we can fry some more up for you.”
Her delicate eyebrows drew down.“I don’t think I’ve ever had chorizo hash.”
“Well, now’s your chance.Grab a plate and dive in.”
It struck her as funny, how Jackson spoke to an ultra-rich, mega-famous movie star as though she were one of the guys.He’d worked a lot of protection details, including the one for actress Vicky Hale, which likely explained why he didn’t act intimidated by Sierra.Still, her presence had stunned a number of the men into silence.
Garrett looked like he’d swallowed his tongue.
Curious about his reaction, Sloane’s focus shifted to Navarre, and her breath caught in her throat when she met his gaze head-on.For a moment or two, he just looked at her, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, his expression impossible to read.Then he blinked, raised his mug to his lips, and turned his gaze away.
Sierra went to the kitchen and returned minutes later with a modest portion of eggs and hash on a plate, along with a bowl of fruit salad and a small glass of what looked like some sort of smoothie.Pinto’s partner, Hatch, scrambled to get up so she’d have a place to sit.
She glanced over her shoulder as Navarre pushed her chair in for her, flashed a brilliant smile, and said, “Thank you, sugar,” and Sloane thought she was going to barf.
Sierra sampled the hash, chewed a few times, and her face lit up like Christmas morning.“Oh, this is delicious.”
“Told you she’d like it,” Hatch said, and Pinto rolled his eyes.
With the exception of Sierra, most of the plates, glasses, and mugs at the table were empty.Sloane checked the time, relieved to see she still had ten minutes before her scheduled session with the stylists.Showing up late would have been kind of awkward.Hopefully, the clothes they’d chosen for her wouldn’t be too tight, because she hadn’t planned to eat that much for breakfast.
Jackson clapped his hands to get everybody’s attention.“All right, folks, pick a number from one to twenty.Closest to the pin does dishes.Not you,” he added when Sierra tried to add her number.
Confusion colored her face in a way that showed she wasn’t accustomed to being told no.“Why not?”
“Because she who signs our checks is excused from dish duty.You were kind enough to let us use your kitchen; the least we can do is clean up after ourselves.Garrett and Rosario, you’re the lucky winners.Team One, we’re leaving in two hours.Team Two leaves thirty minutes after that.Y’all know what to do.”
Navarrestoodattheedge of the steps, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he leaned against one of the carved stone pillars.All was quiet on the property.No perimeter breaches, or threatening messages, or anything else that might signal approaching danger.Hell, even the paparazzi were keeping their distance, a rarity in his experience.By all measures, things were going exactly as planned.
And yet, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that shit was about to go sideways.
He hated this feeling, mostly because it didn’t come with more detailed information, like what, where, when, why, or how many.Then he’d actually have something to work with.Instead, he only had a vague sense of impending doom that left him edgy, off-balance, and unsure how to proceed.
The front door opened, and he didn’t need to look back to know it was Jackson.
“You okay, man?”The sound of boot steps got closer until Jackson stood beside him.“No offense, but you seem off this morning.”
It wasn’t surprising that Jackson had noticed.He’d always been perceptive.He was more than a friend; he was family.During their time in the Army, they’d forged a bond that ran deeper than most could comprehend.At this point, they couldn’t hide much of anything from each other.Most of the time, he considered that a good thing.
Navarre glanced up at his friend.“I’ve got a bad feeling about today.”
Jackson’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he processed the words.“How bad are we talking?The Pit?Kundig?”
Jaw tightening, Navarre shook his head.“Wanesh.”
“Aw, fuck.”Jackson’s hand instinctively reached for the grip of his sidearm.“Are you shitting me?”
“I never joke about Wanesh.”Even though the scars had faded with time, the memories would always remain fresh.Some things were never meant to be forgotten.There were times when he woke in the dead of night to the smell of burnt flesh and diesel.They’d lost a lot of close friends in that shithole, a few whose bodies were never recovered in spite of their efforts.Their names were inked into Jackson’s skin, just above his left pectoral muscle.They were seared into Navarre’s soul.
Jackson went quiet for nearly a minute, his eyebrows drawn close together as he stared out at the grounds.“How long you had this feeling?”
