My survival instinct takes over, my hand holding my weapon flies up only to be slammed back down against the floor by the man on top of me.
“Motherfucking hell,” he snaps angrily, his hand painfully gripping my forearm. His other arm’s around the top of my head, his five o'clock shadow scraping against my jaw and neck. Then his voice is deep and threatening in my ear, “Stay fucking down unless you want to die.”
The gunfire violently increases, and it’s so loud I can’t hear my own breaths. It’s only then the realization sinks in the man on top of me is literally covering my entire body from the attack.
He’s protecting me?
A second later, silence buzzes in the air. Or it’s my ears ringing from the gunfire. I can feel my breaths exploding from me, but I can’t hear them.
The man lifts himself until his face hovers above mine. I’m met with a grim scowl on the most rugged and attractive face I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Agent Daniel O’Brien.
His eyes are dark brown, the color richer than chocolate. His black hair’s been gelled back, and a week's growth of bristles covers one hell of a strong jawline. His scent hits my nostrils, and it’s all man and something earthy.
Holy. Shit.
My body becomes immensely aware of his, sparks zapping through all my nerve endings. It’s freaking intense, the moment stunning all my other senses.
I’ve never had such a strong reaction to a man. But in all fairness, I’ve mainly dealt with men my own age, and I know O’Brien’s thirty-five. Twelve years older than me. He makes all the guys I trained with look like boys.
“Do you have a fucking death wish, Jefferson?” he growls as he climbs to his feet, yanking me up by the scruff of my neck like I’m some ragdoll.
Crap, he’s strong.
Clearing my throat, I somehow remember to check my surroundings for immediate threats. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you when you tackled me,” I apologize for almost shooting him, my body still wound tight from the adrenaline pulsing through my veins and the close encounter with O’Brien’s muscled body.
With a dark expression that doesn’t bode well for me, he stalks off, his movements aggressive and clearly pissed off.
Shit. This is not the impression I wanted to make on my first day.
O’Brien
She’s fresh from the fucking farm.
I keep repeating the words as I type out my report, so I don’t lose my shit because Jefferson almost got herself killed.
The image of her shit-scared face, as she rounded the crates, flashes through my mind. Light blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and the fairest skin that looked even whiter against my tanned hand gave the impression she should still be in fucking high school.
And she’s fucking tiny. Barely reached my shoulder when we faced off in the warehouse.
She fucking pointed her weapon at me.
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the report to get it done as quickly as possible.
The first thing I did when I got back to the office was take a shower and change into one of my usual suit pants and a button-up long sleeve shirt. It feels weird after wearing casual clothes for the past two months while I was undercover as a low-level arms dealer. We knew it would get Kelmendi’s attention when I tried to move in on his territory.
I glance up to where Jefferson’s seated at an empty desk next to Briggs, who’s taking three months off to get married to Finch. I have a feeling Briggs won’t be coming back. Jefferson will train under Briggs, so the sooner I accept her as part of our team, the better.
She better be a fast learner, or we’re all fucked.
With my eyes settling hard on Jefferson, I go over her stats, trying to reassure myself this woman won’t get any of us killed. She graduated top of her class from Quantico. She has a degree in psychology. I’ve heard she’s fucking sharp when it comes to getting into the mind of a criminal.
She’ll be an asset.
She’s new.
Give her a break.
Just as I let out a disgruntled sigh, Jefferson’s eyes lock on me. My muscles tighten when she stands up and walks the short distance to my desk. Even though my first impression of her wasn’t good, it doesn’t stop me from once again realizing how goddamn beautiful she is.
Julie Jefferson doesn’t look like an agent at all. She should’ve become a psychologist. People would easily spill their secrets to her.
The thought has my guard going up because the last thing I need is her digging around in my head.
An awkward expression slightly widens her eyes, only drawing more attention to the soft blue irises that have the power to bring a lesser man to his knees.
She smiles nervously, telling me I have the upper hand. I just stare at her, keeping my expression impassive while dissecting Agent Jefferson.
Her chin lifts, and she sucks in a deep breath of air, a flickering of steely resolution in her gaze. “Julie Jefferson.” She holds her hand out to me, her fingers slim, her nails short and neat. “My friends call me JJ.”
For the sake of the team and the fact that I’ll have to work with her, I take hold of her hand, my palm and fingers swallowing hers whole. Our eyes lock, and the protective feeling that made me leap from the second level to get to her, once again fills my chest.
It’s because she’s so fucking small.
She doesn’t belong here.
“Daniel O’Brien,” I mutter, my voice still laced with the tension from the bust and her incompetence.
Much to my surprise, her plump lips curve up, blinding me with a smile as if she’s meeting God himself. “It’s such an honor meeting you.” She gestures toward nothing specific, then looks a little awkward. “Thank you for saving my life back there.”
I realize I’m still holding her hand and quickly pull back. Common decency has me asking, “You okay? I took you down pretty hard.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. The bulletproof vest took the brunt of the impact.” Her smile makes her eyes sparkle, illuminating her innocence.
I nod, and figuring I’ve done my part in welcoming her, I get up and walk away from her to where the rest of my team is standing.
If I’m honest with myself, I’m putting distance between Jefferson and me because she’s so fucking disarming.
Throwing my arm around Briggs’ neck, I pull her to my side for a hug. “Missed me?”
She snorts, giving me an eye roll. “Like I’d miss a hangover.”
Glancing back to where Chief Archer’s taking the stairs up to his office that overlooks our floor, I call out, “Chief, we’re good to go?”
“Yeah. I’ll meet you at Costa’s.”
“I’m heading home. If I’m not there to make sure Jordan does his homework, it will never get done,” Rossi says as she goes to collect her bag from her desk. “Don’t drink too much.”
“Eric, you coming?” I ask our technical analyst.
He shakes his head. “I have a date with Bianca.”
My eyebrows fly up. “Bianca? What the hell did I miss?” Eric’s not the most outgoing person, and he’s been single for longer than I’ve known him.
“Eric met the woman of his dreams on a coffee run for us,” Briggs fills me in. “She’s sweet as pie.”