Chain of Title (30 page)

Never in a million years had
he thought life would bring a woman like Shayna Montgomery into his orbit.  Did
she understand that?  Did she truly fathom what she had done to him, what she
meant to him?  He had given up on this kind of ending a long time ago.  Hell,
who was he kidding?  He had never really looked all that hard, because he never
felt worthy.  He still had his doubts.  But if life had taught him anything to
this point, it was to hold on to the good when it comes and to never let it go.

Shayna Montgomery was his
beginning and his ending, his alpha and omega.  He would never be able to let
her go and would do everything in his power not to give her a reason to want to
leave.  The profound sense of peace and acceptance that flooded him at that
moment caused his breathing to catch as he read his own feelings mirrored in
her beautiful eyes.  She wouldn’t leave him.  With each other, they were home,
exactly where they both wanted to be and always should have been.

He caressed her cheek and
smiled at the way she leaned into his palm, rubbing against it, her lids
dropped along with a contented curve on her lips.  So much time lost, so much
time to make up for, so much time ahead to do it all—and they would do it all.

Sean tilted her head back,
exposing her throat as he kissed and nipped at her skin.  “So, everything we
planned out last night...it’s a go, right?” he murmured against her soft skin. 
“You’re going to marry me right here,” his eyes swept across the colorful,
fragrant garden where they were sitting and where his parents had exchanged
vows a lifetime ago, their shadows still wandering the landscape.  She nodded
with a drunken expression.  “The sooner the better, right?”  A grin lit up her dreamy
expression and she nodded again, her lids heavy.

He lifted her legs, swinging
them over his lap, skimming his hand under her yellow sundress and gripping her
backside commandingly.  Her breathing hitched and he smiled wickedly, loving
the affect he had on her, the affect they had on each other.

“I have to be the luckiest
sonofabitch ever.”

Her warm hand traced across
his chest, winding around to scrape her nails provocatively down his back.  “No
argument here,” she teased, with a sparkle in her eyes.

Sean chuckled and squeezed
her, pulling her closer.

“I think you owe me for the
heart failure you nearly caused me this morning.”

Her brows knitted together. 
“Owe you?”  Her eyes narrowed, her expression turning playful.  “Like a
punishment?” she bit at her lip, grinning seductively.

He couldn’t stop the deep growl
in his chest that rumbled up into his throat.  “I think some discipline is
definitely in order.  What do you think?”  Sean dipped down taking her bottom
lip between his teeth, giving it a quick nip before releasing it.  He watched Shayna’s
eyes dilate and heard her breathing quicken through her parted lips.

Slowly threading her fingers
through his hair, she answered lustfully, “Well, whatever you do, just make
sure I never forget it.”

His grip tightened, skin
sizzling with desire, and he promised huskily, “Don’t worry; I’ll spend the
rest of my life making sure you don’t.”  Their lips collided in a searing kiss,
merging and sealing their fates, for better...or worse.

He
was sick of following these two around.  Always touching, laughing, and acting
like lovesick teenagers.  He shook his head and grunted in annoyance.  At least
they’d finally slowed down and relaxed at this luxury beach resort, which was a
hell of a lot better than the last place these two adrenaline junkies had traveled. 
Who the hell goes repelling, hiking, and mountain biking in Ecuador, anyway? 
He shook his head in irritation at the unpleasant memories and blotted the
sweat from his forehead with a napkin.  Christ, Singapore was hot and humid. 
“Thanks,” he grumbled, watching the server’s tight little ass as she flitted
away in her hip-hugging sarong.

He downed his ice cold drink
and sighed in relief.  If he hadn’t fucked up in Madrid, he wouldn’t be on this
shit detail right now.  Of course, it hadn’t been entirely his fault.  He’d
just been following orders, something he despised doing when they were clearly
wrong.  He scratched at his head and sighed in defeat.  He needed to focus on
being a good yes-man, again.  Yeah, that fiasco in Spain had knocked him down a
rung or two, and he’d have to work his way back up the ladder.

He stretched back casually on
his lounger and surreptitiously watched the cabana across the way through his
dark sunglasses, the white sheer fabric billowing gently in the breeze.  He
caught glimpses of Parker’s hand on her tanned bare thigh, skimming up to her
ass, squeezing it, and kissing her.

He squirmed and shifted the
hardness inching up in his shorts.  Hell, he needed to get a woman.  Watching
these two in a perpetual state of heat left him frustrated and horny as fuck
most days.

He adjusted his visor against
the burning rays and contemplated the reasons for shadowing Sean Parker.  The powers
up the chain had provided an unusually scant dossier on his subject, primarily
impressing upon him the importance of extreme discretion in maintaining his
cover.  The only thing he’d been able to dig up on his own was that this Parker
was some kind of badass—a mercenary.  Rumor had it; he was the mastermind
behind the hellfire that rained down in the Mexican jungle last year.  Most
people would deem whoever had taken down Hector Morales, a fucking hero, medals
all around.

He snorted and chuckled
knowingly.  Yeah, no good deed goes unpunished, he thought, nodding to himself. 
Apparently, Sean Parker must’ve pissed somebody off.  Oh, well, it was none of
his concern.  He just needed to keep a log for now and report back when his
handler contacted him.

The vibrating cell phone on
the side table next to him jerked his focus away from the soft-core porn show in
the cabana.  He sat up straight in his seat when he read the caller ID.  He
cleared his throat, then accepted the call.

“This is Morgan.”

“We’re pulling you out,” said
the caller in a gruff, no-nonsense tone.

He pushed up his Ray-bans and
rubbed at his nose in frustration.  What now?  Swimming with sharks?  He
wouldn’t be surprised with these two.  “Where am I going?”

“We’re bringing you in.  You’ve
been made.”

His brow furrowed.  That was
impossible.  His agent authentication had been impeccable, and he had taken
every precaution:  different haircuts and colors, sometimes he wore eyeglasses,
or colored contacts, varied his wardrobe, traveled with groups and alone, and even
spoke different languages.  No.  No way he’d messed this up.  This was his
expertise.  He had been a fucking flawless chameleon.

“I don’t see how that’s
possible.  I’ve worked this perfectly,” he dared to reply.

“You don’t understand who
you’re dealing with.  Trust me, you’ve been made,” said the agitated voice.

“Then maybe you should’ve
enlightened me before now.”  Morgan squeezed his eyes shut at his caustic
outburst, then took a deep breath, trying to remember his objective.

He glanced over at the cabana
and saw Parker’s hand slip between her legs.  “Trust
me
.  The guy’s too
damn busy to notice
anything
going on around him.”

The voice pierced through the
phone with cold finality.  “You’re out Morgan.  We’re sending someone else—a
team.  We’re bringing him in.”

His eyes widened.  This assignment
had suddenly taken a critical turn.

“I’ll check out and wait for
my orders.”  He did his best to keep the rancor out of his voice.

“Yes, you will.”  The caller
abruptly disconnected.

He placed the phone back on
the side table and shook his head defiantly.  If this went south, he wasn’t
going to be the fall guy—not this time.

Their bubbly laughter drew
his attention.  Parker had his woman draped over his shoulder now, her blonde
hair swayed across her face, and he slapped her bikini-clad ass, hard, making
her giggle louder, and pretend to struggle against his grip.  The couple was
off for a swim and heading toward the pristine white sand beach.

Morgan sucked in air and
froze solid as his target’s head turned slightly, his steely focus spanning the
distance to land decisively on him.  Parker sneered.  Then he lifted his arm,
aiming a finger gun directly at him, and dropped the hammer.  His mocking grin
now replaced by a lethal expression that flooded the agent’s gut with a sense
of heavy, inescapable dread.

Morgan swallowed hard against
the sudden dryness in his throat as beads of sweat trickled down his back and
underneath the waistband of his shorts.  He failed to fight back the shiver
that darted up his spine like a bad omen, realizing that it was already too
late.  His days were numbered.

He was a dead man walking.

Who is Sean Parker?

Hero?  Monster?  Both?

Do you want more?

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Other Books by Robyn Roze:

Keeper

Keep Her

Find Her Free Her

Coming 2014:

HellKat