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complaining, but does this mean we’re up for that second date now?”
    Shaking his head, Drew leaned against the table to take the weight of his healing leg. “Hey, glad to see you’re doing better now. Heard it was a little hairy last night.”
    “Oh, I’m a tough old bird. Takes more than a ballsed up operation to put me down. Appreciate the pickup though.” She smiled at Drew, not looking at Jason as she pushed off the door frame and walked further into the room. She flicked a glance back at him though, as though she couldn’t help herself, and Jason felt the shiver all the way down to his toes. “I take it Colonel Hague didn’t tell you about Section Three?”
    Both men froze. When you worked in the Special Operations Branch you eventually heard all about S3, and Jason and Drew were no exceptions. While their section, S17 was special in the fact that they were constantly the favored errand boys for the most ridiculous ops that Central Command could come up with, S3’s reputation eclipsed it. If black was the branch color for all the sections, then 3’s was blacker than pitch.
    He frowned. Why would a spy be asking them if their boss had mentioned the ultra covert section?
    “Haven’t seen him yet,” Jason said carefully. “Any idea what this is about?”
    She reached the table, and trailed a hand along it as she walked. He was caught, watching the way her delicate fingers touched the wooden surface. Heat and lust took him broadside, his cock hard and heavy in an instant. Oh yeah, he had to get her into the sack, and soon.
    “You are Gunnery Sergeant Scott and Staff Sergeant Michaels,” she looked over her shoulder, her ponytail bouncing on her back. “Michaels. Heavy-worlder with an impeccable record. Scott, yours has wise-ass stamped all over it. You are both battle-fit and marksman rated. Michaels, you were in surgery three months ago, gunshot wound. Scott, you’ve been named twice in paternity suits but cleared both times.”
    Jason didn’t bother hiding the stupefied expression on his face while Drew looked on implacably. He wasn’t fooled; Drew’s calm manner hid fathoms of ‘what the fuck?’. Their service records or “jackets” in the vernacular were highly classified and no spook, no matter how skilled, would have access to them.
    Unless of course the said spook was beyond above average. Jason knew she had to have at least SpecOps level training or experience to be able to operate like she did during the mission, but he didn’t like being made a fool of. He especially didn’t like spooks jerking his chain, no matter how hot they were.
    “Who are you?” Jason asked calmly, the easy-going goofball gone and replaced by the hardnosed operator that lurked beneath the surface.
    She stopped and turned, leaning her hip against the table to eye them both with a level gaze. “Your performance on the Cestan operation was impressive. How long have you been working together?”
    Jason and Drew exchanged looks. He had been buddies with Drew since they met in the Marines, before they were both assigned to S17. They’d watched each other’s back for nearly a decade through all sorts of missions and knew each other so well they almost read each other’s minds. Drew nodded, and Jason knew he shared his sentiments regarding their guest.
    “Thank you for the compliment, gorgeous.” Jason smiled as he hitched his hip on the edge of the conference table and crossed his arms. “But we really don’t like giving out information to strangers, even the smokin’ hot ones.”
    “The correct response.” She grinned as Colonel Hague swept into the room, grunting a little as he saw it was already occupied. “Afternoon Francis, just getting to know your boys here.”
    Jason knew Drew’s shocked expression was mirrored on his own face. Francis? Francis? He hadn’t even known Hague had a first name, much less what it was. He’d never have picked Francis in a million years.
    “Glad to see you’re not