“Forty minutes,” Sloane said.

  “I’ll get it done,” Dex assured him. This asshole wasn’t getting away from him. The guy leaped off his bike, tossing his helmet as he bolted toward one of the hotels, tourists scurrying off, wondering what the hell was going on. Sirens pierced the air around them, and Dex abandoned his own bike and helmet as he took off after the guy.

  A shot rang out, a chunk of stone flying off the pillar of the archway to Dex’s left. He darted behind it for cover, removing his own gun from its holster tucked into the hidden pocket. People screamed and police shouted from across the plaza. “Target is on the move. He went into the Hotel Reial.” Dex took off after him. He had to stay a step ahead of the police. Not getting shot by this asshole was also at the top of his list.

  Dex followed the shouts and screams that followed the Therian as he sped through the hotel lobby, gun in hand. The place was packed with guests. He shot behind him in Dex’s general direction, and it went wide, the bullet lodging itself into a marble pillar to Dex’s right.

  The police shouted for them to stop as Dex bolted into the emergency stairwell after his target. Fuck, this wasn’t where he wanted to be. A shot pinged off the steel railing, and Dex returned fire. He took the stairs two at a time, knowing exactly where they were heading.

  Why? Why did they always head for the roof? The pounding of police boots against the stairs two flights down echoed alongside Spanish orders. His target exploded through the roof door, and Dex was right on his ass.

  “Thirty-three minutes,” Sloane said.

  “I’ll be there. You and the captain be ready. Babycakes, where’s my extraction?”

  “On my way,” Rowan replied.

  The sun blazed down on the exposed rooftop, the uneven surface filled with ductwork, equipment, piping, mechanical boxes, vents, and all kinds of other shit that turned their chase into a damned obstacle course.

  A few short years ago, Dex wouldn’t have been able to keep up with his target, but now? He gritted his teeth and reached deep down, the sun reflecting off his sunglasses as he sped up, his target heading for a gap between two buildings.

  “Fucker’s going to jump.” As he said the words, the guy did exactly that. Dex didn’t so much as hesitate. A burst of energy flared through his body, and he leaped, the world seeming to slow around him as he soared through the air before gravity did its thing and he fell, dropping and rolling the moment he hit the roof. He jumped to his feet without stopping, the Human police shouting from the roof behind him. That should slow them down for a bit.

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Where the hell’s my extraction,” Dex growled as he jumped down onto another rooftop, the sun blazing down on him. He shot at his target, cursing under his breath when the guy sharply turned.

  “You do realize that twenty-four minutes ago there was no extraction,” Rowan argued.

  “How long, pop tart?”

  “Three minutes,” Rowan snapped. “Your ass better be ready, old man.”

  “I’ll give you old man.” Dex scaled the small wall after his target and jumped down the other side. The rooftop here was filled with ducts, vents, tall structures, and doorways. He ducked behind a large vent the moment his target did the same. Dex fired from behind his hiding spot, a shot pinging over his ear. He needed this to be over. A helicopter appeared in the distance, and Dex cursed under his breath.

  Maneuvering through the rooftop obstacle course, he hurried closer to his target. He shot a piece of piping across from the guy, briefly drawing his attention away.

  “ETA thirty seconds,” Rowan shouted.

  The whirring sound of helicopter blades intensified, and Dex used his opponent’s slip of distraction to fire, the guy letting out a yelp as the bullet hit his shoulder. Dex took off, barreling into him and sending him skidding across the roof.

  “Fuck.” The Therian crouched and rolled to his feet. “How the fuck did you do that?”

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who sent you?”

  Gun raised, his target roared and attacked. Dex barely avoided a deadly shot to his abdomen. He gritted his teeth, his focus on making sure the bastard didn’t blow something off.

  “Who sent you?” Dex demanded, jerking back and smacking the guy’s fist away from where his face had been.

  “It doesn’t matter. The Prime Minister dies tonight.”

  “Who wants him dead?”

  The bastard grinned. “Nothing you can do about it, Human.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like me.”

  “I’ll like you better when I put a hole in you and watch you bleed to death.”

  Dex motioned for the asshole to bring it. With every bullet that Dex dodged, every blocked punch and kick, his opponent became more confused and frustrated.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  A punch to the solar plexus was Dex’s response, sending the Therian stumbling back wheezing, his gun skidding across the ground. Unfortunately, he didn’t go down completely. He dove for his gun, whirled to fire, but was propelled back by Dex shooting him in the head.

  “Enemy agent is down,” Dex said as he quickly checked the guy over and found what he was looking for on the Therian’s wrist. After jerking it off, he cuffed it onto his own wrist, then sped toward the edge of the roof, the officers shouting as they arrived and rushed toward him.

  “Ten minutes,” Sloane informed him.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Ro and the helicopter hovered just above the building at the end, an unrolled ladder dangling for him. Dex picked up his speed, then jumped over the gap between two buildings. Shouts followed him along with gunfire. A shot hit the side of the helicopter, and Ro jerked the beast to one side, dragging the ladder with it. “I’m going to circle back,” Ro growled.

  “No, I can make it.”

  “Chaos,” Sloane snapped. “Don’t you fucking—”

  Dex leaped off the side of the building, the world seeming to slow around him as he threw an arm out, stretching as far as he could reach. His fingers brushed the ladder as he fell, but on the last rung, he managed to grab hold of the rubber grip.

  “Go!”

  Ro sped off as Dex hung by one hand. He threw his other arm up and grabbed hold of the rung to climb the ladder. After pulling himself in through the open side, he swiftly dragged the ladder up, then dropped into the seat and buckled himself up.

  “You’re in so much trouble,” Ro said through Dex’s earpiece.

  Dex let out a breathless laugh. When wasn’t he in trouble? Less than a mile and a half away, Ro hovered over Casa Mimosa. Dex unstrapped himself, lowered the ladder, then quickly climbed down and jumped onto the building’s roof.

  “Five minutes,” Sloane growled.

  Dex opened one of the steel air vents and grabbed the duffel bag stuffed inside. He slung it over his shoulders and made a run for it, speeding across several rooftops until he got to La Pedrera.

  “See you on the other side.”

  Hurrying to the door, he removed the small key maker from his pocket. With a click of a button, the gadget buzzed, and he turned it. The door opened, and Dex slipped inside. He hurried down the stairs, pulling items of clothing out of the bag and changing as he went. By the time he reached the first floor, he was done. With the stairwell empty, he slid the fire extinguisher box up and shoved the duffel bag inside.

  “You’re clear,” Keane said, and Dex opened the door and slipped inside the building. He straightened his tuxedo bow tie.

  “How do I look?”

  “Like you’re about to be very dangerous to my health,” Keane grumbled.

  Dex held back a smile as he headed down the unique stone hallway. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

  “Three minutes,” Sloane said.

  “Or, since I’m a lion Therian,” Keane continued, “and always on my toes, maybe we can forgo your testing the limits of my heart rate monitor. You know, I was thinking…”

  Dex cringed. “Ooh, don’t do that. You’re too pretty to be thinking.”

  “Fuck off,” Keane said, a hint of humor in his voice. “Smartass. I was thinking this time we’d try something new. Maybe you go in there, and I don’t know,” he said, most likely shrugging, “complete your objective without incident.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “They call you Chaos. What does that tell you?”

  “That I’m a badass.” Dex slowed his pace as he rounded the corner and headed for the ballroom, glittering chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings of the luxurious palace.

  Keane’s voice was a harsh whisper. “You know damn well that’s not why.”

  “Relax,” Dex said with a smile. “It’ll be fine.”

  “You always say that, and then next thing I know, Ro’s having to commandeer a double-decker bus. Those things are not made for sharp turns, Dexter.”

  Dex let out a mock gasp. “You called me by my full name. I knew letting you hang out with Sloane was a terrible idea. You’re already picking up his bad habits.”

  Keane sighed. “Just, try not to blow anything up.”

  “No promises.”

  “Two minutes,” Sloane pitched in.

  Dex strode across the floor and approached one of the wings, where a huge Therian in a dark suit stood at a podium.

  “Invitation?” the tiger Therian asked.

  Dex presented his wrist and the silver band he’d borrowed from his deceased friend. The Therian scanned it and motioned him to the door.

  “Please enjoy yourself, Mr. Palmer.”

  “Thank you.”

  “One minute,” Sloane murmured.

  Dex strolled into the luxurious ballroom filled with government officials, military personnel, and foreign dignitaries. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and approached a tall Human flanked by several Therian bodyguards. The man smiled when he saw him. He whispered something to one of his bodyguards, who nodded. The Human stretched his hand out to Dex.

  “Ah, my dear friend, I’ve been expecting you.” He pulled Dex into a one-armed embrace, and Dex whispered in the man’s ear.

  “Threat has been neutralized.” With a wide smile, Dex pulled back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prime Minister.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  [Location: TIN Headquarters, Redacted, New York City]

  Dex’s solid presence remained a source of unending comfort to Sloane.

  No matter what they’d suffered over the years, New York City would always be home. Hidden beneath fifty floors of a Gothic building with Art Deco decor as old as its structure, lay the United States headquarters of the Therian Intelligence Network—TIN.

  Why the founders of TIN decided such a notable building would be a good place to hide a clandestine government intelligence agency was anyone’s guess. Rumor was, the hidden facility had been created for Human intelligence but had been abandoned shortly after the birth of the FBI.

  THIRDS HQ was close to Sloane’s heart, but even he had to admit that TIN headquarters was impressive, with its sophisticated network of connections to intelligence agencies around the world, both Therian and Human.

  Some say Therians secretly infiltrated the Human CIA during the late seventies in an attempt to find a cure for Therians who were dying post-shift. Few knew the answer to that question had come from Sloane. Too bad they’d had to torture him to get it. He’d been a child at the time, a far cry from the THIRDS team leader he’d become or the TIN operative he was today.

  “You okay?” Dex asked.

  “Just thinking about all this.” Sloane motioned to the sleek marble facility around them, its red, charcoal-gray, and black color scheme a sharp contrast to his former agency’s black, white, and blue. “How it was built by Therians trying to find their place in the world, trying not to die.”

  Dex stopped and turned to face him, his smile warm and his eyes filled with an adoration Sloane at one time believed he hadn’t deserved. “And here we are decades later, joining the fight.”

  Sloane laced his fingers with Dex’s and lifted his hand to kiss the back of it. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have fighting by my side.”

  “Aw, busting baddies makes you all sappy.”

  With a chuckle, Sloane released his husband’s hand and followed him into the elevator. “How do you think he’s going to greet us today?”

  Dex pursed his lips. “Let’s see. He’s cursed at me, smacked me in the head, punched me, thrown office supplies at me…”

  “That stapler could have caused some real damage,” Sloane teased.

  Dex grumbled as he rubbed his brow. “It had pointy edges.”

  “In his defense, you’d just come back from a mission where you drove a motorcycle through the Louvre.”

  “You break one naked Greek dude and everyone gets all up in arms about it. The dude didn’t even have a head!”

  Sloane tried his best not to laugh. “And then you broke his other one.”

  Dex blinked at him before barking out a laugh, which was not what their handler wanted to hear as they walked into his office.

  Austen rounded his desk, all five foot seven of pissed-off cheetah Therian. “For fuck’s sake, Daley!”

  Dex slipped behind Sloane. “Which Daley?”

  Austen stood in front of Sloane and glared up at him. He thrust a finger at his own dark hair. “Do you see this?”

  Was that a trick question? Probably best he not answer. To be on the safe side, he stared blankly at Austen.

  “This is a gray hair. One of five that I now have because of your pain-in-the-ass husband.”

  “I think it makes you look very distinguished,” Dex said from behind Sloane.

  “You know what’s not distinguished? Me having to grovel to the President of France because one of our operatives is an asshat!”

  Dex poked his head out. “In my defense—”

  “No, you don’t get a defense! When you learn the meaning of clandestine, you get a defense. When you stop destroying my budget with your endless property damage, you get a defense. When you—”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  Austen narrowed his eyes. “Did you interrupt me?”

  Sloane winced. This was going to hurt. His husband, not him. But still.

  The flat-screen on the wall at the end of the room flickered to life as Austen loosened his tie, pupils dilated.

  “Austen.”

  With a heavy sigh, Austen fixed his tie and spun to glare at their boss. “What do you want?”

  Few got to speak to Sonya Sparks the way Austen did, but then he’d practically been raised by the formidable cougar Therian. The notion was only slightly terrifying. Sparks had the glamorous looks of a 1940s pinup, from her glossy red waves to her matching lipstick and intimidating heels. Sloane admired her for all she’d accomplished in her career, respected her as a fellow operative, and at times, despised her.

  Their relationship was complicated, especially since she was also their boss at the THIRDS, where she worked undercover as Unit Alpha’s lieutenant. He and Dex had gone from Defense agents for Destructive Delta to positions created to provide the perfect cover for their new roles as TIN operatives, their former team carrying on in their new role as the first THIRDS training team.

  “We weren’t finished with our conversation,” she replied in her usual unflappable calm.

  “Yeah, we were.” Austen headed for his desk, motioning for Dex and Sloane to take a seat in the empty chairs in front. The moment Sloane moved, something smacked Dex in the head.

  “Ow! Motherfuck!” Dex rubbed his forehead. “Did you throw your protein bar at me?” He waved the offending snack at Austen. “Just for that, this is mine now.” He tore it open, took a seat, then bit off a chunk. “Oh God, this is disgusting,” he said through a sputter of oats. “Ugh, it tastes like dirt rolled up in dirt. Ew, gross.”

  Austen moved his gaze to Sloane. “Really. This is the guy you chose to marry? All the men in New York City, and this is what you came up with?”

  Dex flipped Austen off as he searched for something to wipe his tongue off with. “I neeth a tithue.”

  “You need something all right,” Austen mumbled, taking a seat behind his desk. He opened a drawer and threw a packet of tissues at Dex, ignoring him in favor of glaring at Sparks. He motioned to Dex. “I rest my case.”

  Sparks arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “That would have made a more convincing argument if that wasn’t his general… Dexness.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “Whatever. My decision stands.”

  “Austen—”

  “No,” Austen snapped. “They’re not ready.”

  “Who’s not ready?” Sloane asked. Considering Austen was their handler, it was pretty clear who they were talking about, but he’d learned long ago never to make assumptions where their crazy crew was concerned.

  “What’s going on?” Dex asked, looking from Austen to Sparks.

  “I’ve had a rather delicate and dangerous mission handed to me,” Sparks replied. “I’ve been informed that you and Sloane are the best operatives for the job. Austen and I agree you’re not ready. However, I believe the decision should be left to you, whereas Austen wishes to decide for you, and as your handler, he has the authority to do so.”

  Dex turned his frown on Austen. “Why aren’t we ready? We’ve been out in the field for three years now, not including the year spent training and the TIN Associate Training Program we completed as part of Destructive Delta.”

  “You’re not ready for this,” Austen argued, his dark eyes intense. “You think you are, but you’re not.”

  “Why don’t you let us be the judge of that.”

  Austen moved his gaze to Sloane, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. “Talk some sense into your husband.”

  As if Austen hadn’t witnessed Dex’s stubbornness first-hand countless times over the years. “I’m sorry, are you new here? When has anyone ever been able to dissuade Dex of anything he sets his mind to?”

  Dex blew Sloane a kiss. “Thank you, boo.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment, sweetheart.”