The pretty redhead’s safety had been on him since the second he’d agreed to become her handler. “She won’t be harmed.”

“I’m not talking physical harm,” Force retorted.

Raider looked at a man he truly respected. Oh, Force had problems, but he was a good agent. An obsessed one. “I’ll use anybody and anything to take the Coonans down, and you know it. But I’ll do my best to protect her.” He opened the first folder again to take out a picture of a seventeen-year-old Brigid. Her big green eyes filled her entire face, and at that age, she looked even more fragile than she had after he’d picked her up from prison in her orange jumpsuit. Heat flashed through his chest with the need to protect and shield. A sense he’d only felt for his foster family before now.

A barely there smile crossed Force’s face. As if he knew a secret. “Fair enough.”

Raider shoved down irritation. “Her falling for the wrong guy—repeatedly—isn’t an excuse for breaking the law,” he murmured.

“Didn’t say it was,” Force said, his voice cheerful again. “But you need to turn into a badass criminal with an attitude. The reason I’m telling you this is that when we turn you into her type, she may fall for you, and I don’t want personnel problems here.”

“What a line of malarkey,” came from the door.

Raider winced and looked over his shoulder to find Brigid standing there, her pale skin flushed a very pretty pink. “I do not have a type, and no way on God’s green earth would I fall for Raider Tanaka.” Her Irish brogue came out stronger than usual.

If that wasn’t a challenge, Raider didn’t know what was. “Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

Her chin snapped up. “Bite me, Tanaka.”

Force coughed in the lamest attempt to cover a chuckle ever. “Apparently we’d better get started tomorrow with you two falling in love.”

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

How freaking unbelievable. The nerve and the ego. Brigid stomped ahead of Raider. “You’re such a jerk.”

He paused at his desk and drew out his gun, then jammed it at the back of his waist. The weapon was a SIG DAK, and she knew that because Raider and Wolfe had gotten into a mild disagreement the other day about DAK and DA/SA triggers, and she’d had to drown them out to work on her computer. Guns made her itchy.

She swallowed and shrugged off the unease, reminding herself that she now worked for the Homeland Defense Department. Then she turned and maneuvered around the dingy desks to the small foyer, saying a quick prayer before striding into the crappy elevator, which was probably a death trap.