He nodded, his gaze intense. “Bruised and not broken. Take off your clothes, Brigid.”

She so wasn’t made for undercover work. Not this kind. She twirled her finger for him to turn around. With an exasperated eye roll, he did so, dropping his jeans as he moved. Steam started to fill the room.

She knew not to look. Honest. But when faced with one of the tightest butts in history, how could she not? She shook her head. This was a job. A game, even. And it wasn’t like she was overly shy. But this was also Raider. Biting her lip again, she quickly tossed her clothes to the floor and walked into the stone-tiled shower, letting the steam cover her as much as possible.

Raider followed her and shut the door, keeping his gaze on her face.

But just how good was his peripheral vision? It took every ounce of stubbornness she had to keep from covering herself with her hands like some old-fashioned virgin in a classic movie.

He leaned toward her, not touching. “They can’t hear us now. Seriously. How are you?”

Shockingly aroused all of a sudden. No. None of that. He was talking about the case. She could do that, too. “Freaking out,” she hissed, her mouth close to his ear. If they were close, he couldn’t see her bare boobs. “The guy wanted to cut off my earlobe. He’s nuts.”

Raider smoothed both hands down her arms. “He might’ve just been trying to scare you, but either way, he’s definitely off. As soon as Force gets his hands on the journal, we’ll get you out of here. I’ll continue the op on my own and work with Eddie after this.”

She shook her head, her chin brushing his while she stood on her tiptoes. The steam and warmth created a sense of privacy that was somehow sexy when combined with the danger they were in. “I hacked into his computer, and he has a business outside of Boston with more records. It’s a secure server, and I’ll have to actually be in that room to get into them. I think the shipping manifests and plans are on there.” And who knew what else.

He leaned back slightly. “Your lips really are blue. Get under the spray, Brigid. I’ll turn my back.” He turned around.

Her gaze slid to his butt again, and she mentally smacked herself, stepping to the side and into the warm spray. A soft moan escaped her, and darn if his body didn’t jerk. She angled her view to see a tattoo of a four-point Celtic knot that swirled over his left shoulder and bicep. “I like your ink,” she whispered.

He turned then, his broad chest now covered in water from the other nozzle. “My foster brothers and sister have the same one. There were four of us during that time, hence the four points.”