Mission Control (The Omega Team Series Book 2) Read online

  Mason glanced at the other team members standing to the side, watching him with amusement on their faces. Apparently, this happened with regularity, that the man he’d been expecting was actually a female. They figured that was the cause of the sudden tension. To them, this was a joke, only the men had no way of knowing exactly how much of a joke. He had to fix this. No way could he be around her while the team worked to resolve his situation. Already, his cock was vibrating with the memory of her mouth and hands and the slick, wet heat of her pussy.

  This couldn’t happen. He’d have to play the misogynist and let them chalk his reaction up to his distaste for women in lead positions.

  “Okay,” he growled. “Prank time’s over. You can head on back to the office, little girl. I want to meet the real team leader.”

  Hoots of laughter erupted from the men, but apparently the female in front of him didn’t think it was any funnier than he did. She yanked off her sunglasses and gave him a view of blue eyes that, at the moment, were as dark as the ocean in the middle of a storm. Eyes that had stared hard into his as the mother of all orgasms gripped them. The muscles around her jaw tightened.

  “No joke, Mr. Rowell. And I don’t appreciate your comments.” She took a step forward and held out her hand. “Krista Gauthier. Everyone calls me Kris. That’s K-R-I-S. Not C-H-R-I-S. And, yes, I’m the leader of this team.”

  Mason was aware the men were still enjoying the situation. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time someone had been caught like he was. But that was the least of his problems. The air between them suddenly filled with tension so thick he was sure it was visible to everyone watching. Fuck! On what planet had he ever thought they’d meet again, especially like this?

  The rigid line of her posture was a good indication she felt the same way. They faced one another for what seemed an interminable amount of time.

  “I don’t have any contagious diseases, Rowell.” Her tone held a sarcastic bite.

  She still had her hand extended. Everyone was watched with evident curiosity, wondering what the hell was going on. He managed to pull himself together and grasp her hand.

  The moment they made contact, he realized having her here would be a mistake. Big mistake.

  Electricity sizzled between them like a downed high-voltage wire. Whatever had drawn them together that night, a year ago, was still there. Mason forced himself not to yank his hand away and took a step back. He hoped nobody noticed the sudden bulge behind his fly. Then Kris dropped her gaze, and the tiniest twitch teased at the corner of her mouth.

  “I can assure you,” she told him, “I am more than mission qualified.” Her voice was even, uninflected.

  Yeah, but what kind of mission? With a supreme effort, he forced himself to focus on the business at hand. He couldn’t let the message his cock was sending him derail what was important here. After that first little jolt of recognition, she appeared to have herself under control. He needed to do the same.

  “Fine.” He cleared his throat. “Grey says you can do it, so I’ll take him at his word. And, by the way, he wants you to check in with him and let him know you got here.”

  She turned her attention to the men waiting with their gear. “Rich, text Grey and let him know we didn’t get lost.”

  Shifting her focus to Mason again, she had the same unreadable expression on her face. She studied him for what seemed forever before nodding her head once, as if she’d come to some kind of internal decision. “All right. Let’s get all this stuff inside, set up wherever you’re housing us, and have a sit-down to go over the details of what’s needed. The sooner we get started, the faster we can resolve the situation.”

  “I’m all for that,” he agreed.

  “Is there a better place you’d like the chopper to stay?” Kris asked, a slight edge to her tone. “Or is it okay to park it here?”

  “I’m good with whatever suits you, but feel free to check around and see if there’s a place that might be better.”

  “It’s important your men understand they have to stay away from it.” With her sunglasses back in place, it was hard to read her expression. Did she think his men were idiots? That he was? Or was she flexing her very delectable muscles to see his reaction?

  Mason tamped down the surge of irritation. “Trust me. My men won’t be anywhere near your precious chopper. They aren’t stupid.”

  After one more hard glance at him, she hefted a duffel and strode toward the pickup. In less than ten minutes, everything was loaded into the truck. Kris rode in the cab with Mason, Stick, and Ted. Thank god she chose the backseat in the dual cab. The others wedged themselves into the truck bed. Five minutes later, Stick pulled up in front of the bunkhouse and parked.

  “I wasn’t expecting, uh, mixed company,” Mason told Kris. “Sorry, but this is nothing more than a big, open room with beds and some tables and one bathroom. My housekeeper cleaned it up good for the team, but it’s not exactly a co-ed facility.” He rubbed his jaw, wondering if he was about to put his foot in his mouth. “I can offer you a room up at the main house, if you want.”

  The look she gave him could have frozen fire. “I bunk where everyone else does. I’ve been leading this team for a year, and we don’t usually have first class accommodations on an assignment. So, thanks, but I’m good.”

  She turned and headed into the bunkhouse with a purposeful stride. Mason couldn’t help noticing the flex of the muscles in her ass as she walked and the straight line of her slim body. It took major effort on his part not to remember her naked and under him.

  Damn! What the fuck? He better get his mind out of his pants. Of course, if he hadn’t been able to forget her in a year, what made him think he could turn it off now?

  Because I’m not some horny kid. And it was just one night. Forget it. She and her team are going to catch the bad guys for me, so I’d better keep it in my pants. Hopefully, this will be over soon, and she’ll be out of my life for good.

  He let Stick shepherd everyone inside before he entered the bunkhouse. There was very little conversation. They all seemed to have silent signals as to where they’d sleep and where the stuff would be stowed.

  Two of the team members immediately lifted some of the hard-sided cases to one of the wide tables and began opening them. Mason stood to the side, studying the equipment as each piece was taken out. Soon, one end of the table held a variety of weapons. He had no idea what the other equipment was, but figured they’d tell him soon enough.

  Kris tossed her duffel onto one of the top bunks then turned her attention to the table. Lifting one of the handguns, she expertly checked it, loaded a clip, and slid it into place then shoved the gun into the back of her jeans. Mason noticed the others doing the same, each selecting whatever weapon he preferred. When the sidearms had been distributed, two of the team members began checking and loading the others, while the rest of the team went back to the nonlethal gear. They seemed to have forgotten he was there.

  “Okay, then.” Kris stood with her hands on her hips, eyeballing the array of equipment. “I think we’re set to sit down and discuss this. Do you have others you need to bring into the meeting?”

  “My foreman, Greg Ruiz.”

  “I’ll get him.” Stick headed toward the door. “He’s in the barn. I saw him when we pulled up in the truck.”

  Kris nodded. “We have aerial maps but if you have the surveys the county appraisal district uses, those would be a help, also.”

  “Yeah, I mentioned that to Hollister. Let me run up to the house while Stick gets Greg.”

  “I guess we’re ready,” Kris said when Mason returned with the maps and dropped into an empty chair. “Let’s get all the intros out of the way first.” She looked at Stick and Greg. “I’m the designated team leader as well as the chopper pilot. In case you’re wondering about my qualifications, I’ve been flying choppers since I was sixteen and spent six years in the Army doing the same thing for them. I spent my last year as a Nightstalker, an Army special opera
tions force, flying attack, assault, and recon missions. I flew at high speeds, low altitudes, and on short notice.”

  “And did a damn good job,” one of the men said. “From what Grey told us, anyway, when you came on board. And have more than earned your slot since then”

  “Thanks. I’ve known Grey for a few years, and when I decided to get back to civilian life, he was kind enough to give me a job.” She narrowed her eyes, staring hard at Mason as if sending him a direct message. Don’t mention our night together. At all. “I’m qualified as an expert with both handguns and semi-automatics, as is each member of the team. Okay, let’s hear from the rest of you.”

  They went around the group, each giving his own intro. Mason noted they were a mixture of the various branches of the military, everything from Army Rangers to Marines to Delta Force. They were hardened warriors who had seen more than their share of combat and survived. Now they were using those skills on civilian missions. Not one of them was someone he’d want to tangle with on a dark night or any other kind. Finally, Stick and Greg introduced themselves.

  Kris shifted her attention back to Mason. “We’ve been briefed on your situation, but I’d like to hear it from you. I’m sure Grey didn’t miss any details, but I like to get my information direct from the client.”

  “Fine. Here’s the problem.”

  In concise sentences, he told her about the signs of intrusion he and his men had found onto the land. About the cut wire. About the signs in the landscape of people moving through it. About his two men who were shot at night when they’d tried to patrol the area themselves.

  Kris nodded. “According to the border security, the coyotes and drug cartels are partnering and searching for less obvious, more remote spots to cross. Looking at the aerial maps, the Double R appears to be an ideal location for them.”

  “Yeah.” Stick snorted. “Just our luck.”

  “We’re here to make sure it stops. Keep in mind, they may move to another location, but at least we can secure this ranch.”

  “That’s all I’m asking,” Mason told her.

  “Lane?” Kris shifted her gaze to a lanky redhead who was checking over what appeared to be a padded box of large metal marbles. “Turn on the monitor for those, and let’s see if we can light it up.”

  Lane opened a laptop computer and booted it up, typing in some commands. Then, one by one, he rolled each of the metal objects in his hands as if testing them, watching the laptop and nodding in satisfaction when he was finished.

  “We’re hot,” he told Kris.

  “The Border Patrol uses these to track illegals,” Kris explained, “but ours are a little more sophisticated. They have a longer range, plus they are moved more easily.” She nodded at the redhead. “Lane, you want to explain?”

  He nodded. “Once we go over the maps with you, we’ll place these strategically from the edge of your property inward. If anyone cuts through an area where we put them, this monitor will light up, and Kris will head out with some of us in the chopper.”

  “Others will go on horseback,” Kris added. She arched a brow at Mason. “Grey said you had a couple of horses we could use.”

  “I do, but—”

  “Two of my men are experienced riders,” she assured him. “One is a former mounted cop from New York and the other came from a ranch in Montana.”

  “Whenever you’re ready I’ll show you which ones are available and you can make your selection.”

  He had an instant vision of Kris on horseback. With him. Seated in front of him in the saddle, her sweet little ass tucked up against his hard shaft, rubbing it as the horse trotted along. And if he didn’t quit with those thoughts, he’d be in big trouble. He shifted in his chair, trying to ease the pressure in his jeans.

  “Okay.” Kris gave him a narrowed-eyed stare again. “Your turn.”

  Mason unrolled the drawings he was holding. These people were all business, and they couldn’t get started a minute too soon for him. He smoothed his hand over one of the maps, pressing down the corners.

  “The Double R Ranch covers ten thousand acres and borders with Mexico here.” He drew a line with his forefinger. “The Rio Grande is narrow enough to row across in minutes at that point, and certainly you can wade or swim it without a problem.” He traced another line. “We spent a fortune installing barbed wire strategically enough to discourage people. We thought. But they just cut it. We fix it, and they move to another section.”

  “It takes more than fencing to discourage these people,” Kris commented.

  He snorted. “Tell me about it. The only really secure area is the quadrant we leased to a company drilling for natural gas. That company keeps a guard posted twenty-four/seven.”

  Kris bent over the map again. “Show me where the illegals have been through already. And the area where your two hands were killed.”

  They kept at it for more than an hour, going over details until everyone in the room had memorized what was on both the appraisal maps and the aerial ones.

  “All right.” Kris looked at each of them. “This is good but we need to see this from the air. Eyeball it ourselves. Get pictures of it so we can come back here and study the best sites to locate the sensors. Mason, I’ll need you up in the chopper with us.”

  “Me?” Shit. Did that sound stupid or what? Of course, him.

  “You have a problem with that?” She tilted her sunglasses down and peered at him over the top. “Get airsick or something?”

  He shook his head. If she could act as if they’d never met, so could he. “Not me. Let’s go.”

  “Bring those maps with you.”

  He sensed everyone on the team watching him as he followed Kris out to the chopper. Did his expression give away anything he felt? He hoped not. A former Ranger, he considered himself well-schooled in personal discipline. But, shit! The minute he laid eyes on the woman, every detail of that long-ago night flooded back, and he couldn’t wipe any of it away.

  Better get hold of yourself, idiot. You have more important business here than satisfying your cock.

  Kris walked around the helo to do her preflight check before climbing in. Mason waited until the rest of the team had hauled themselves easily into the cabin of the chopper then boosted himself in after them. He reached to close the door, but one of the men stopped him.

  “Leave it,” he told Mason. “We need it open for observation.”

  “I saved the copilot seat for you, Rowell.” Kris indicated the seat next to her. “Come on. I’ve got a set of headphones and a mic for you, too. You’ll need to feed me info along the way.”

  It amazed him she could be all business here, act as if nothing had ever happened between them. He couldn’t find any logical reason to object, especially since it was his ranch they were flying over, and he had the information she wanted. But, damn! Sitting this near to her would certainly test his personal discipline, and she had to know it. Maybe she was getting revenge, but he wasn’t sure for what.

  Or maybe she wanted him close to her? Did she feel that hot something between them the way he did?

  “Don’t get too excited,” she chided. “I almost always have the client fly with me. Where better to get answers to questions.”

  Of course. Get your head of out of your ass, dickwad.

  He had barely buckled himself in and adjusted the headset when the rotor blades began their whine, picking up speed, and the helo lifted off the ground. He had to give it to the woman; she was a damn fine pilot. He’d flown in choppers before with good pilots, even some great ones, but almost none who flew as with such ease, such smoothness and lack of obvious effort as Kris Gauthier.

  He watched her, so relaxed at the controls, but obviously alert, confident of every movement. Inhaling a deep breath, his nostrils flared as, over the smell of leather and metal in the cockpit, he caught a light, distinctly feminine, floral scent. He shifted slightly in his seat, adjusting his jeans as unobtrusively as possible. If she had this kind of effect on him ju
st by being in close proximity, he was going to have a fucking battle with himself until this mission was completed.

  “Rowell.”

  Her voice sounded through the headphones.

  “Yeah. Here. Nice flying job, by the way.”

  “Thanks. That’s part of what I get paid for. How about unrolling the map with the markings on it, so I can orient myself. Doug Richmond’s got a video camera in the cabin, and Ted will be taking stills so we can review the area once we get back to the ranch.”

  Mason smoothed the smaller of the maps across his thighs. Leaning forward slightly, he peered through the cockpit window.

  “That’s a pretty big spread you have out there,” Kris commented.

  “Ten thousand acres. But less than half of it is used for ranching.”

  She glanced briefly at him. “How come? Doesn’t that leave a lot of it going to waste?”

  “Not all of it is arable. We use the best parts for raising cattle and growing hay. The part that abuts Eagle Shale is leased for natural gas drilling. The rest of it is just as nature created—flat, rolling terrain with natural grasses, mesquite, thorny shrubs, and cacti.”

  “And that’s the area the smugglers are coming through,” she guessed.

  “Right. It’s only recently, with all the border problems and the immigration boondoggle, that we’ve had to worry about it. The barbed wire and the landscape itself kept people out before.”

  “But now someone is using it for that very reason, right? Because they don’t think anyone will search for them there.”

  “Exactly.”

  The helicopter took a slight dip as they passed over the sections with cattle milling about and the fields with hay waiting to be cut.

  “How big is your herd?”

  “At the moment, about four thousand.”

  Again, she slid him a glance. “Pretty big herd, or am I wrong?”

  “No, you’re right. It’s above average. But it’s taken us four generations to build it up, and it’s a lot of hard work to maintain it.”