Agent I1: Tristan [01] The D.I.R.E. Agency Read Free Page B

pulled out two beers. Rachel watched his forearms flex as he opened the bottles with his bare hands. His fingers were long, his hands huge and dotted with scars.
    “Defense, Intelligence and Reconnaissance Enforcement.” He slid a bottle in front of her. “I’m a product of the Science Division.”
    Taking a sip, Rachel frowned as the cold, bitter taste slid down her throat. “Is that where Aidan will work?”
    With a shrug, Tristan opened the refrigerator again. He pulled out a bowl covered in foil. “All depends on his test results.”
    “What kind of tests? Like physical ability?” Surely, Aidan’s SEAL training proved he was physically fit.
    “They’ll perform aptitude tests to determine where he can best serve the organization.” He popped a bowl into the microwave.
    “And what exactly does D.I.R.E . do?”
    Tristan studied the plate as it turned in the microwave. Rachel waited for his reply. Her stomach told her to brace herself. Whatever this agency did, Tristan knew she wouldn’t like it.
    He set the warmed bowl and a fork in front of her without meeting her eyes. He turned back to heat his own bowl, which had twice as much food in it.
    “Well?”
    Glancing over at her, his gaze was cautious. “We’re a private contractor.”
    That was… vague. Did he really expect her to be satisfied with that answer?
    “Contractor of what… exactly? Define what defense, intelligence and reconnaissance enforcement really is for us normal humans.”
    Scents of garlic, cayenne pepper, and oregano filled her nose. Her stomach growled as she waited for him to answer.
    “Whatever the client needs - surveillance, recovery, intelligence, invasion… take out…” He busied himself by the microwave.
    Rachel stilled. “Take out?” Her fingers tightened around the fork. “For some reason, I don’t think you mean Chinese.”
    His somber blue eyes met hers. “No.”
    Oh God… “Do you mean killing people – like a hit man?”
    The microwave dinged and he turned away. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”
    Rachel held her fork prongs towards Tristan. “Are you paid to kill people?”
    He shrugged as he pulled the bowl from the microwave and placed it on the counter beside hers. “Sometimes. But, they’re contracts on hardcore criminals and bad guys.” He sat on the stool beside her.
    Her nerve ends tingled when he sat beside her. Rachel wasn’t sure if that was due to his godly good looks or his ungodly profession.
    “So, you’re saying my brother is going to be a hit man?”
    “No.” Frowning, he dug into his food.
    Obviously, the thought of killing people didn’t affect his appetite.
    Turning to look at her, he swallowed his stew. “ Like me , he will continue to be a soldier – just not for the United States Government.” He sighed. “Think about it, Rachel, with my abilities, I can be anywhere in ten, twenty seconds. I can sit in a room of bad guys and listen in on their plans. I can walk through an enemy compound without notice. People pay a lot of money for my ability and skills.”
    Her appetite waned. “I bet they do. You’re probably a lot like the men that shot my father.”
    Tristan stilled but wouldn’t meet her gaze.
    Gritting her teeth, Rachel embraced the betrayal and downright anger that surged through her. How could Aidan work for an organization like that? His own father had been taken out by professionals.
    “He owned an electronics store in Creekmore, Texas. Why would professionals want to kill him?”
    Just the thought of what her father went through that night six months ago - the fear, the pain, the knowledge that he would die and leave his family forever…
    Rachel’s stomach knotted in anguish. Unfortunately, Jim Monroe wasn’t granted a quick, merciful death. He’d hung on for months as a quadriplegic.
    “That’s only a small part of our work, Rachel. We primarily deal in intelligence.”
    “Justify it all you want.” She picked at her food. “But, you haven’t been