Brennan's Lament — Dana McSwain

“She's a landmine, Frank. Don't jump headlong on top of a landmine, idiot, no matter how hot she is.”

Veteran government spook Frank Brennan has seen it all and done it all. He's assassinated dictators in their hot tubs, sweet-talked Swedish attaches into his bed in less time than it takes to reload a SIG Sauer and works for an organization so secret it doesn't even have an acronym. There's nothing he can't handle with his wit, his mixed martial arts, and his absurdly sexy chest and arms. But while deep undercover as a priest in rural New Hampshire, he runs into something even he can't handle.

Alexandra Winters, widowed kindergarten schoolteacher.

She's his deadliest opponent yet: charming, saucy, looks great covered in finger paint, makes yellow rain boots look like liquid sex. The kind of woman to make a stone cold killer holster his gun forever. But somehow she's caught up in the job he's been sent to carry out, the job he swore would be his last. And it just might be if Alexandra has her way. Her secrets will make him rue the day he joined the brotherhood -- and just might get them killed by the Russian mob in the process.