Cindy Skaggs

Logan felt raw inside from the look of betrayal she had leveled on him. Who was he to demand honesty when every aspect of his presence in her life, even on the periphery, was a lie?

Logan felt it, even if he wanted to deny it. His pupils were dilated and he stared at her like she was chocolate and tomorrow was the first day of Lent. Sure, she might be forbidden, but no one could withstand temptation forever. Not when it was so close. The car roared to life as Logan started it back onto the road. So he thought to ignore the attraction? Good luck. He might be a rule follower, but Sofia wasn__. He didn__ stand a chance in hell.

He__ never met a parent who wanted so desperately to pursue and exact revenge, nor one who seemed quite so capable of doing just that.

No living person could disappear like Sofia. She__ have a go-bag stashed somewhere. Money and passports and disguises, with just enough ice to evaporate.

One of the special teams turned sadistic in Kandahar and took out a village. The organization reacted swiftly by shutting down the program and denying any and all knowledge. Contracts were severed. Their service records heavily redacted. Overnight, the entire team was out. Out of the military, out of the war, out of the only life they knew. Team Fear took the fall.

Fury invaded where fear dare not. The thirst for revenge still burned his throat and coated his tongue. The last few days, he'd been a complete ass, visiting violence on his brothers because he could, because they would take it, because, in the end, they were the same. Monsters all.

Worry whispered through his mind like madness. Mad Dog had refused to leave his family, and in the end, it had cost all of them their lives. Ryder swore he__ find a way to leave before anything happened to Lauren.

Leather and tattoos, they were his cover, and she wondered what she__ find when she unwrapped him.

Out of the military, out of the war, out of the only life they knew. Team Fear took the fall.

She__ pay good money for an up-close-and-personal tour of the tattoos that made him look like a badass biker.

Mick was always the right kind of dirty. Windblown, fresh off his bike, wrapped in tattoo and leather. Muscles all the hell over the place. The man was a serious piece of eye candy. Thinking about him losing the leather warmed the chill that had gripped her since the attack.

This act would cost them. It was forbidden, in her world and his, but all he wanted was to hear her moan.