Resurgence: A Military, Age-Gap Romance (The Shadow Series Book 3)

Resurgence The Shadow Series Book Three Shelby Gunter Contents Prologue 1. Thia 2. Jackson 3. Thia 4. Thia 5. Jackson 6. Thia 7. Jackson 8. Thia 9. Jackson 10. Thia 11. Jackson 12. Thia 13. Jackson 14. Thia 15. Jackson 16. Thia 17. Jackson 18. Thia 19. Jackson 20. Thia 21. Jackson 22. Thia 23. Jackson 24. Thia 25. Jackson 26. Thia 27. Jackson 28. Thia 29. Jackson 30. Thia 31. Thia 32. Jackson Epilogue Acknowledgments Also by Shelby Gunter About the Author Prologue Jackson Music thumps through the room, some pop song good for dancing apparently, as almost every person in here is swaying to it. It’s at these moments I have to recognize how jaded I’ve become. I can’t even enjoy a party celebrating a good friend’s happiness. Granted, most of my surliness is coming from the fact that it’s taking every ounce of control I possess not to stare at the dark-haired girl I have no business staring at. She sure is pretty, though. I can’t deny that. Fucking hell, man, get over it. I mentally slap myself and attempt to focus on something else. Isaac’s sister would be a much better choice, and she’s plenty interested, if her sly glances my way are any indication. But as hard as I try, I can’t get myself to go over there and flirt with her. The effort it would take to pretend I genuinely care about what she has to say just isn’t worth it. So, I’m going to keep sulking over here in my corner, sipping a glass of whiskey I shouldn’t be drinking, and doing my best to keep my eyes on anyone else but Thia. Thia. An interesting name for an interesting girl. If she’s a day over twenty, I’d be surprised, even though she comes across as ten years older. It’s in her eyes. They hold a level of maturity a girl her age just shouldn’t have. It’s an even bigger reminder that I can’t want this girl. Of the millions of women available to me in the world, I would naturally be interested in the one so off-limits it’s not even funny. Fucking Christ, I have got to stop thinking about her. I stand from the table and head into the kitchen. The spread of food is as good a distraction as anything else. I grab one of the fancy throwaway plates made out of bamboo and take in the options. Roasted root vegetables—pass. Grilled chicken in some form of sauce—better than veggies, I guess. I add some chicken to my plate, picking out the mushrooms in the sauce. The next thing on the counter makes me pause. Chunks of tomatoes are on sticks next to white squares of something, and a leaf sits on the end. A black sauce is drizzled over the top as if it’s trying to make it look appetizing. “Mediterranean skewers.” I startle at Thia’s soft voice. I didn’t even know she’d come up next to me. “And I thought I was the jumpy one around here.” She laughs, her smile bright. I can’t help the quirk of my lips. “What did you say those were?” I point to the tomatoes. “Mediterranean skewers.” “So, the white chunks are supposed to be…?” “Mozzarella.” I grimace. “Ruined a perfectly good salad by putting it on a stick.” “They’re portable.” “So is a plate.” Thia grins at me. She grabs a skewer, pops it into her mouth, then pulls out the clean stick. I can’t take my eyes off her as she chews. She’s trying not to smile with her mouth full, which is making her lips quirk off to the side. It’s the cutest expression I’ve ever seen. “See? I didn’t have to dirty up a plate, and I got to eat. Win-win.” She saunters off, leaving me gawking at her. When has a woman ever left me off-balance like this? I don’t even know what to do with my hands. Which reminds me that I’m still holding a plate of food I don’t even want now. I throw it in the trash and opt for a chocolate cupcake instead. I sit back down at the table. Maybe I should leave after I finish this. I’ve been here long enough not to seem rude. I hope. And then Dax spins Thia around as they dance, and she laughs. A bright, surprised laugh that comes straight from her heart. I’m glued to my seat, watching the light in her whiskey-colored eyes sparkle. She catches my gaze as she dances. It’s as if she’s seeing right through me, into my soul. When she looks away, I feel the loss like an ache in my chest. My phone rings—thank the Lord—pulling me out of my daze. Connor’s name flashes on the screen, his text message making me go on alert. Connor We’ve got a problem. I step out onto Isaac’s back porch, making sure the door latches closed behind me before I click on Connor’s name to call him. “Hey, Chief. Sorry to interrupt the fun, but I knew you were going to want to hear this.” “What happened?” “The girl I’ve been tracing? I found a few things you’re going to want to know about, but that can wait for now. I just got an alert on her name.” I’ve had Connor running a background check on Thia because I’m a masochist and decided torturing myself further would be fun. After my conversation with Isaac, I couldn’t help myself. I also knew I couldn’t go to him for the check, which made Connor my only choice. “She was just put on The Black List.” I grit my teeth to keep from yelling. “Fuck.” The Black List is a site on the dark web for criminals and psychopaths to buy whatever depraved thing they want. Think murder dungeon or a person to torture. The problem is, if someone buys the item, it has to be delivered or the seller dies. Otherwise, the site