“Jared.” She sounded as rigid as he looked. Alrighty. That wasn’t uncomfortable or anything. Her heart beat a drum line in her ears. Loud enough everyone should’ve heard. But they didn’t. The awkward silence lingered, until Rocco burped. Thank the Lord.

She sat next to Brock, who, as far as she could tell, hadn’t done the Jared-Sugar double take.

Jared cleared his throat and started the briefing, which was standard stuff—a recap of why Sugar and Kip Pearson were sent to check up on the outpost police. He gave them her update on GSI’s intermixing of Afghani police and Taliban forces.

Turning from the group, Jared asked, “What else you got for us, Parker?”

Parker? Her cheeks felt warm. Parker had gone through her personal items. He knew more than he should. Even if she weren’t hyper-private, which she was, he’d crossed a big hairy line.

A voice from her blind spot startled her. She turned to a flat screen. A man who looked like he should’ve been lumped on the couch beside the other Ramboes chewed on the end of a pen. Big muscles. Chiseled jawline. Not what she thought of when she thought hacker.

He pulled the pen from his mouth. “Satellite images showed GSI arrived about six hours after Sugar was pulled out. They loaded up some shit and firebombed the place. Looks like they had a daisy-cutter do a flyby. Nothing left but rocks and smoke.”

Jared walked toward the flat screen, taking a long swig of beer. “Makes sense. Destroy the evidence. Nothing to report back.”

Parker cocked a half-grin. “Except what I can dig up.”

“Then dig, my man. I want enough GSI-coated evidence to start a goddamn Congressional hearing.” He finished his beer, then rubbed the bottle in his palms.

Sugar could see the wheels turning behind his hardened face. The same scruff from earlier covered his cheeks. He wore the same uniform—a tight black shirt and tactical pants. It poured over his chest, melted to his package, and cupped his buttocks. She had a soft spot for looks that could, would, and had killed.

“Sugar,” Jared snapped.

No way does he know what I’m thinking. No freakin’ way. Right? She tried to stay stonefaced. “Yeah?”

The intensity of his black eyes almost knocked her out of her seat. They raked over her, making his scrutiny obvious to everyone in the room, and he certainly wasn’t assessing her in any professional capacity. Score one for the cherry-red lip gloss.

“GSI’s gonna want you dead.” The certainty in his voice would’ve shaken her if she hadn’t already known she was marked for six feet under.

“I know.” She attempted an unconcerned shrug. “If they’re all on the take, then I’m collateral damage.”

“Not yet, you ain’t, baby cakes.”

She narrowed her eyes, again, not thrilled with him using the nickname in front of his team. “No shit, J-dawg. I don’t intend to be.” The Titan team watched them like a tennis match going back and forth. How about this for a point? “Tell us your plan to take down GSI, and I’ll tell you mine to kill Kip.”