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woman pointedly checked him out, from the top of his head to his combat boots. Only fair, since he had done the same to her.
    “Yes, we are,” she replied, not missing a beat. “I’m Cait. This is Preston.”
    Brannon nodded at both of them politely.
    “The rest of the group is right over there,” she said, indicating the others on the porch, as if she hadn’t known he’d just come from the office. “We’ll be with you in a bit to start the orientation.” Which was a polite way of telling him to scram.
    “Thanks.”
    As he walked away, he heard Preston say, “Look, I don’t give a damn how long you’ve known Mike. This is my job, not yours. How do I know you can handle this tour?”
    “Kia told you this is how it’s going down. I don’t like it any more than you, but if that’s what Mike wants, that’s what’s going to happen.”
    “You have no clue what you’re doing,” Preston argued.
    “Actually, I do. So when you’re done nursing your butthurt, come join us and let’s get this tour on the water,” she replied, heading toward the office.
    Brannon smirked. Maybe this mission wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
    Cait walked away from Preston, counting slowly to ten. The little prick had gotten in her face the moment he’d heard the news, even though Kia had no doubt patiently explained the situation, which meant Preston was going to be a giant pain in the ass if she didn’t get him on board quickly. Sadly, she wasn’t in the habit of ego stroking, and wasn’t particularly good at it.
    As she walked toward the tour group, she couldn’t help but notice the fine butt on the Hardegree guy. At least that was a plus. He was at least six foot three, probably weighed two-twenty. All muscle, but not buff just for vanity’s sake. This was working muscle, the kind that kept you alive in dangerous situations. His face was angular, but not so much that it overwhelmed his good looks, with trimmed dark hair and a hint of a beard. She noted that his brown eyes were highlighted by a touch of rust.
    Like her, he wore a T-shirt and cargo pants. She’d already made note of his worn rucksack and how it seemed to be part of him, not just something he’d bought the weekend before. The combat boots, properly bloused, told her he was probably ex-military. She doubted an active-duty soldier would bother to take a tour like this one. Most guys on leave, unless they were married, headed for the nearest bar and a horny female, or male if he swung that way. Once upon a time, Hardegree would have been the type she’d take for a spin, but not now.
    If her guess was right, this man already knew wilderness-survival techniques, could probably teach a grad-level course on the subject. Why saddle himself with a group of clueless newbies? In so many ways, he reminded her of the men on her team, Special Forces hunters the country sent to handle the dirty and dangerous jobs. The kind that rarely made the evening news, because they were off the radar or top secret.
    She pulled her attention away from Hardegree and checked out the remaining members of the group. A couple of them appeared nervous, others were trying to act like this was no big deal. Once Preston chilled down, she needed him to give her the skinny on each one of these people. A successful mission required intelligence, and this one was no different.
    When she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, she gave one last look at her Jeep, the desire to take off colliding with her responsibility to an old friend.
    All of the campers were watching her now.
    You can do this . At least here, no one was shooting at her.
    “Hi. I’m Ser—” She stumbled, nearly revealing her rank. She started over. “I’m Cait Landry and I’m filling in for Mike Montgomery on this tour. Mike had a car accident this morning, and he’s laid up in the hospital.”
    “What?” one of the men said. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair and tired eyes. “I decided to come on this tour