Mason’s expression was uninspired, and Lucky laughed.

  “Go big or go home, Cowboy. That’s how we do things.” Lucky climbed up the steps at the rear of the truck and unlocked the back door. Before they left, he needed to take stock of everything. Not that he expected the truck to be anything but immaculate, but there were procedures that needed to be followed. “Jack’s in charge of Cyber Security and System Installations at Four Kings. He has his own team of security agents. They handle very big complicated jobs. Mostly large corporations, military bases, and very wealthy clients. There’s a separate security team for the smaller installations.” He climbed in and picked up the iPad tucked into the black leather pocket attached to the wall.

  “They must be pretty smart, huh?” Mason asked as he climbed the stairs. Once inside, he let out a whistle. “I’m in the wrong business. The only thing I have during surveillance is AC and a cup of coffee, and I consider myself lucky. You’re looking to ruin me for future jobs.”

  “If we’re going to be the best, we should have the best. Most of Jack’s team are former military, their MOS similar to Jack’s.” He powered up the tablet and opened the software he needed to take inventory. The truck was immaculate as usual.

  “MOS?”

  “Military Occupational Specialties.”

  “Right. Ace said you were both weapons sergeants. All the Kings were sergeants, right?”

  “Sergeant First Class. Except for King. He was a Warrant Officer 1.”

  “I’m guessing by the 1 that there’s more than one? What’s the difference?”

  “King was appointed to Warrant Officer 1 after a warrant was approved by the Secretary of the Army. Chief Warrant Officers, such as Warrant Officer 2, are appointed by the President.” Lucky moved his gaze to Mason who’d taken a seat in one of the plush black leather chairs in front of the security console.

  “Is it weird taking orders from King at work? I mean, I know he was your commander and whatnot in your unit, but you all own Four Kings same as him.”

  “We’ve found a way to avoid the whole too many cooks in the kitchen thing. Each of us is in charge of a department that plays to our strengths. Jack is in charge of Cyber Security and Systems Installations, Joker is in charge of Canine and Special Events, Red is Vulnerability and Risk Assessment, as well as Unarmed Security, Ace is in charge of Armed Security and Defensive Driving, I’m in charge of Media and Entertainment, King deals with Executive Protection and Military contracts. We have teams and personnel within each department, along with team leaders. There are also certain areas where we will all be involved, such as hiring, training, emergency and crisis situations. Depending on our availability and the cases, we sometimes work in a department that is not our own, like now.”

  “But King seems to be the one in charge.”

  Lucky considered Mason’s words. “At times, yes.”

  “And you’re okay with giving up that kind of control?”

  “I’m not giving up anything. None of us are. There are times when one voice is needed, and that voice is King’s. He’s a leader. It’s what he does, and we’re happy to have him lead us. He knows exactly how to handle every situation, what to do, when, and how. Who else’s orders would I follow? Ace?” Lucky scoffed before moving his eyes back to the tablet. “Remember the models at the beach?”

  Mason shuddered. “Point taken. King just seems…. I don’t know. Like he’s got a stick permanently inserted up his ass.”

  “He’s very reserved.” Lucky finished up, saved the document, then turned off the tablet and returned it to its pocket. “But you will never know a better man. If King has your back, you know whatever the outcome, it will be the best it can be.”

  Mason nodded. He pointed to the counter beside Lucky. “Is that an espresso machine?”

  Lucky looked from Mason to the espresso machine and back. “Yes. Doesn’t it look like an espresso machine?”

  “Don’t look at me like I can’t ride and chew at the same time.”

  Lucky squinted at him. “I… I don’t know what that means. Ride and chew what?”

  “Ride a horse and chew tobacco.”

  “Chewing tobacco is disgusting. My tía chewed tobacco. Que Dios, la tenga en su gloria,” Lucky said, crossing himself. “You shouldn’t chew tobacco or smoke. Very bad for you, you know?”

  “Agreed. I don’t chew tobacco or smoke.” Mason shook his head. “Why are we talking about tobacco?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the one who brought it up.”

  “No, I brought up you looking at me like I was an idiot because you have an espresso machine in your surveillance truck. Who the hell has an espresso machine in their surveillance truck?”

  “We do. Surveillance means many hours and lots of coffee.”

  “You boys ever heard of a coffee pot or a thermos?”

  Lucky gasped, his hand flying to his chest. “Don’t you ever say those words in my presence again. Are you trying to kill me?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind on occasion.”

  “You’re not funny. We have an espresso machine because it makes real coffee, not the coffee-flavored water you fill your thermos with. I’d rather drink water from the Everglades.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, sweetheart.”

  “Stop calling me your sweetheart. I’m not your sweetheart.”

  Mason turned around, mumbling to himself. “It’s like putting socks on a rooster.”

  Lucky had no idea what the hell Mason was talking about. He closed the back door, locked up, and then took a seat behind the wheel. He buckled up and started the truck, expecting Mason to stay in the back, but he didn’t. He maneuvered his large, muscular body between the front seats and turned to face the passenger seat, sticking his ass right in Lucky’s face.

  Leaning quickly away, Lucky was forced to press his lips together and placed his fists on his lap to keep from reaching out, grabbing Mason, and taking a bite out of him. He should, just to teach the bastard not to go shoving body parts in Lucky’s face. Mason dropped down onto the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. He sat back with a sigh and a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Well, come on, darlin’. We’re burning daylight.”

  With a curse under his breath, Lucky put the truck in Drive.

  So much for entertaining.

  Chapter 4

  This was going to be a long night. Lucky felt it in his bones.

  Once they were in downtown Jacksonville, Lucky pulled the truck into the parking lot of the bank across the street from the skyscraper they’d be watching. Jack had acquired the perfect spot near the lot entrance in case they had to move quickly, and a small team of security agents were parked in the Central Station parking lot, waiting for word from Lucky. With the engine turned off, Lucky unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of his seat at the same time Mason did. Lucky reeled back in an effort not to bump into him, the back of his knees hitting the seat. He flailed, throwing an arm out, but he needn’t have worried. Mason wrapped an arm around his waist and caught him, bringing him up against his hard body.

  “Easy there, darlin’,” Mason murmured quietly, their lips only inches apart. “Don’t want you hurting yourself.”

  Lucky swallowed hard. He felt Mason’s warm breath against his skin. “You’re stepping on my shoe.”

  Mason frowned. “You’re worried about your shoe?”

  “These boots are Guiseppe Zanotti.”

  “Am I supposed to know what that means?” Mason asked, releasing Lucky.

  “It means they cost almost a thousand dollars.”

  Mason stared at him. “Why the hell are you wearin’ thousand-dollar boots to work surveillance? You know there are kids out there starvin’?”

  “Yes, I know,” Lucky spat, pushing Mason away from him. “I was one of them. Now excuse me. We have work to do.”

  At least Mason had the decency to look mortified.

  “Shit, Lucky, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Forget it,” Lucky muttered, taking a seat behind the console to log into the security system. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just sit down and pay attention.”

  Mason took a seat beside him, his expression solemn. Thankfully, he didn’t speak. Lucky didn’t need his apologies or his permission. In Cuba he’d spent most of his time barefoot because the shoes given to him were either beyond salvation or he grew out of them so quickly they hurt his feet to the point he couldn’t walk. Now he could afford all the shoes he wanted, and if he wanted to spend money on designer shoes, no one had the right to make him feel like shit for it. He wasn’t stupid. His savings account was solid, and his retirement account was one of the first things he’d set up when he got his first job. He spent a lot of money, but he also saved money because he knew what it was like to have nothing. He was never going back to that again. Never.

  A building came into view on one of the large flat-screen monitors. He pointed to one of the floors marked on the screen. “That is Techu Technologies. It’s a multibillion-dollar company. Jack believes this man is a corporate spy. Dirk Grant.” He pointed to the second monitor and the profile of a man in his midthirties. “Techu Technologies spent millions of dollars and several years developing a new medical smartwatch, but a month before launch, a rival company launched their own medical smartwatch that used the exact technology with minor changes. It’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened. This monitor shows all the different cameras Jack has installed throughout the floor.”

  “What makes ya’ll think he’s gonna slip up now?”

  “Jack spent months feeding him false information all leading up to one very important final piece of equipment, a prototype of the company’s latest technology—a game changer in the pharmaceutical field. Dirk believes it’s worth billions, and it’s arriving tonight via an armored vehicle. The armed security team—our team—will be personally delivering the prototype to the head of the company’s security, also one of ours. She will secure it in the company safe. We believe Dirk will attempt to steal the prototype sometime after.”

  “And he’s going to bypass all your security? How?”

  “That’s what we don’t know yet. Jack’s system will notify us the moment anything out of the ordinary happens, and believe me, Jack is prepared for everything.”

  “I don’t know how I feel about leaving everything up to a computer.”

  “I wouldn’t, but this isn’t any computer. It’s one of Jack’s, but if it makes you feel any better, you can watch the monitors.” Lucky removed one of the laptops from the locked cabinet beneath the console as well as two boxes, one of which he slid over to Mason. “Radio and earpiece.” They removed the small radios from their boxes and clipped them to the waistband of their pants before putting in their earpiece. Once they were both online, Lucky logged into their system on the laptop and entered his credentials to get into the Kings dashboard.

  “What’s that?” Mason asked, leaning over to look at his screen.

  “A list of my clients with invoices pending. Once a contract is signed, we open a new case or job on the system, and a special accounting program automatically creates an invoice, but we don’t send them out automatically in case of changes, and there are always changes. During a job, notes are added. See here.” He clicked on a tab that showed a page full of typed notes. “As we or our personnel work the job, we add notes relevant to the case, any additional equipment that may have been needed at the client’s expense, any additional personnel added, and so on. I read the notes, check the invoice, and make sure everything adds up before sending it to the client.”

  “You fellas seem to rely an awful lot on technology,” Mason grumbled, sitting back in his seat.

  “Everything is backed up onto our cloud servers as well as external drives. We also keep hard copies. Many backups. It’s all streamlined. King gets very twitchy otherwise. Not good for his blood pressure, or ours.” Lucky went back to checking his invoices while Mason stared at the monitors. As soon as Lucky was finished, he logged out, then closed the laptop.

  “That’s pretty.”

  Lucky turned his attention to Mason. “What is?”

  “The bracelet.”

  “Thank you. My mother gave it to me. She is very spiritual.”

  “What makes it spiritual?”

  “The stones have many healing properties. This is tiger’s-eye,” he said, pointing to the gold-and-brown bead. “And this is black agate. The black agate is for stabilizing and grounding while elevating awareness. It helps you focus and be courageous. It’s also a protection stone.”

  “Makes sense. And the tiger’s-eye?” Mason asked.

  “It offers strength and protection but also helps you make decisions without being clouded by your emotions.”

  “Your mama knows you well, huh?”

  Lucky peered at him. “Are you saying I’m emotional?”

  Mason put his hands up in surrender. “Nope. I didn’t say that.”

  “It’s fine,” Lucky said with a snort. “It’s not as though I’m not told as much all the time by my family. If everyone says so, it must be true, no?”

  “You’re passionate,” Mason corrected.

  Lucky studied him. “You really think so, or you’re just saying that so I won’t argue with you?”

  “I know so.” Mason turned in his chair to face Lucky. “I have never seen you lose your shit over something you didn’t care about.”

  It was true. Things affected him deeply. It was how he was made. If he didn’t care about something, he didn’t waste much time on it, but if he did care, he had a habit of getting worked up at times.

  Not wanting to think about how well Mason seemed to know him, he stood. He needed to not be so close to Mason. It was only a few hours. “I need to stretch my legs.”

  Mason eyed him but didn’t respond. He turned his attention to the monitors and sat back in his chair, his jaw muscles working.

  Just a few hours, Lucky reminded himself. He could do this. As long as he didn’t look at Mason for too long or talk about anything not related to work, or sports, or the weather, it’d be fine. He’d be fine.

  A little while later, it was obvious he was not fine.

  “Would you sit down, please? You’re gonna wear a hole in the damn floor with all that pacing.”

  Lucky glared at Mason but took a seat. He checked his watch. Fuck, it had only been two hours.

  “Are you telling me you Green Berets never had to be still for more than an hour?”

  “That’s different,” Lucky muttered, playing with one of the beads hanging from the adjustable braided string on his bracelet.

  “How is it different?”

  “You train day after day, pushing yourself to the limit, preparing your mind and body for battle, for the missions that are to come. There is no failure because failing means….” Lucky swallowed hard, then shook his head. “It’s very different.”

  “Is that what happened to your team?”

  “We didn’t fail. Someone failed us, and our brothers paid for that failure with their lives.” Lucky stood and went to the espresso machine to make himself un cortadito.

  “I’m sorry,” Mason said, his voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Ace never told you?”

  Mason shook his head. “His time in the military is something he never really talked about. When he did, he didn’t go into detail, so I didn’t push.”

  “Even if you’d pushed, he wouldn’t have told you. Most of what we did was classified. We don’t talk about it, and we don’t reveal secrets.”

  “Even after what happened with your unit? You said someone failed you and your brothers paid the price. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

  “Yes, of course, but we’re still soldiers, always will be. We no longer serve, but that doesn’t change the man inside. No matter what happened, we won’t betray our country. Our country is its people, not the politicians who place more value in their little party war than human lives.” Lucky opened the black panel beneath the machine, and Mason laughed.

  “Really? A refrigerator?”

  “Of course. Where else would we keep the milk?”

  Mason shook his head. “Right. How silly of me.”

  “You want one?”

  “Sure.”

  Lucky removed the small sugar container from the cabinet, along with a stainless-steel pitcher. He added the sugar, then turned on the espresso machine, swapping the coffee pitcher for the one with sugar.

  “I heard there’s an art to making Cuban coffee,” Mason said, studying him.

  “In that, you are correct, my friend.”

  “What are you doing? Walk me through it.”

  “I’m making the espumita for the coffee.”

  “What’s espumita?”

  “The sugar foam.” The coffee began to drip into the small pitcher, and when he had just enough, he swapped the pitchers. “Now you quickly stir a small amount of coffee and the sugar until you have this thick, creamy golden liquid. Once the coffee is finished, you poor the espumita into your coffee and serve.” He removed two of the disposable espresso cups from the stack and filled them with the heavenly liquid. The truck smelled deliciously of freshly roasted Cuban coffee. Lucky placed Mason’s espresso in front of him.

  They sat together in silence, sipping their very hot, delicious coffee. At least until Mason let out a happy grunt, and Lucky smiled. “It’s okay to admit you were wrong.”

  Mason’s sigh was put out but cute. “I was wrong about the coffee.”

  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all, at least that’s what Lucky thought before Mason decided to do everything in his power to annoy the ever-loving fuck out of Lucky. If he didn’t know better, he would think Mason was trying to piss him off on purpose. Mason had gone from being still and observant to being obnoxious, whether it was tapping his fingers on the console desk or singing god-awful country songs. His singing voice was very pleasant, and Lucky enjoyed listening to it, but whatever the hell he was singing was painful. Three hours later, and Lucky was ready to murder him. If he’d been wearing chancletas, he would have smacked Mason over the head with one hours ago.