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the flight path of a mission. Apache helicopters went out as air support on all missions so the enemy had turned to using small, one-man missile launchers that could be buried in the sand when they knew where a mission was going to land. Ambush-style warfare with modern missiles. Mothers were getting flags and someone was raking in the money earned with the blood of Mercer’s comrades. Guilt aside, Zoe was the most likely point for that information to be smuggled out of her brother’s secured location.
    â€œI’ll get into position. Tell Maddox to stay wherever he is.” He was overstepping by telling Saxon what to do, but the team wasn’t purely military. They fell into a gray area, which was a large part of the appeal. He liked being able to operate without regulations crushing him. Rules had their place, but there were plenty of criminals who had figured out how to use the law to protect themselves.
    A sense of anticipation swept through him and he frowned on his way out of the house they were using as a base of operations. It was set up on a hillside, overlooking the California coastline. Outside he heard the surf as he climbed into a four-wheel-drive Jeep. The back was open, allowing the air to blow around the cab as he guided it onto the narrow streets of Malibu. He left behind the bike, parked near several other vehicles the team used. They were all different, all resources for the team depending on their case needs, from a dented-up two door, two-decade-old beater to the armor-plated limo. He wasn’t in the Jeep to enjoy the afternoon breeze, he was in it to maximize his chances for success.
    Target. That’s all she could ever be.
    Shit.
    *   *   *
    â€œI can’t tell you how grateful we are that you came out today.” The administrator of the children’s hospital rubbed her hands together. “It means so much to the kids.”
    â€œWouldn’t miss it. You know, call Tim and I’ll be here. My dad sends his apologies,” Zoe replied.
    The administrator nodded. “Your booking agent is always moving things around for me, and we greatly appreciate it. Some of our kids just don’t have time to wait and they love Harley. Your dad, too. I’ve never met a man who enjoys being a pirate so much. Are you sure he’s in the navy?”
    â€œSometimes I wonder,” Zoe admitted. Her father was notorious for doing children’s events dressed like a pirate and sporting an eye patch along with Harley and a very over-the-top accent.
    The administrator turned to address one of the other entertainers attending the afternoon celebration. Zoe struggled to pull one of her cases from the van while her star performer let out an impatient squawk.
    â€œPatience, Harley. Sis needs to get your perch out first.”
    The large scarlet macaw parrot eyed her while clinging to the side of his travel cage. People were arriving by van loads, kids running over to the face-painting booth to have glitter applied to their cheeks. Parents pulled out money as popcorn began filling the area with its delectable aroma. There was a grinding sound as the snow cone vendor pushed blocks of ice through his shredding machine to the delight of a little girl who had a pink headband on her chemotherapy-induced bald head.
    Harley flapped his wings impatiently. Once the small stage was set up, Zoe opened the travel cage and transferred him to his perch. The crowd shifted and cameras appeared. Zoe adjusted her safari hat and dug in for the six-hour event. She coaxed Harley through his performance with cashews and peanuts. The afternoon passed in a blur of sugar-high faces until at last the crowd began to thin.
    Which allowed her the chance to see him .
    He was still hot.
    Even in a striped cotton shirt and khaki pants, there was still an edge radiating from him. She’d bet he was just as intimidating buck naked.
    Oh … yeah …
    She looked away, the idea of