Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) (2 page)

She needed to get laid. Hard. Maybe a few times, so she could work this tension out of her system. Sex had never been the answer before, but nothing else was working. The way she was so completely aware of this man was…unnatural. It was as though simply by being in the same space with her, he disrupted all of her order. Everything she’d put in place.

Luke pulled out his phone. From the seat he’d taken, he had a direct shot of the pseudo Mr. and Mrs. Smith at the in-flight dining table, sipping champagne. Of course they were celebrating. They were on their way to closing a rather large black market deal that would result in mass casualties. It’d cost Abigail a considerable sum of money to obtain information about this transaction, and she still didn’t know all of it, but she knew enough. And if time was on her side, she’d be able to stop them before things went too far.

“If you’re trying to take a picture, the sun will ruin it.”
Amateur.
Luke was a soldier, not a covert operative. Still, she had to give him points for trying.

“I only need faces,” he said slowly.

“And what will you do with this picture? I could tell Mr. and Mrs. Smith you’re trying to figure out their real names. I don’t think they’d take kindly to that.” She fought the urge to fold her arms across her chest and instead let them lie on the seat rests. Casual. Confident.
She was a professional.

In truth, she was about to snap from the tension.

Eight days.

Eight full days with those people.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Yeah right.

She wanted to kill them for being utterly obnoxious, and that was before she factored in the kinds of things they did. The lives they played with to amuse themselves.

If the couple stuck to their routine, they’d abandon her in four days or less at some hotel, or if she were lucky, the airport. That was how they operated. Pick up a new bodyguard, leave a bodyguard. Over and over, never allowing any of them to get too close, too familiar, or to learn who they were really protecting.

But she knew.

“Gail? Gail?” The supposed Mrs. Smith pitched her voice louder with each word.

Abigail turned in her seat.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Could you be a dear and get my purse?” Mrs. Smith smiled, her white teeth so perfect they had to be fake. In fact, Abigail knew they were fake. As were the woman’s nose, breasts and lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Abigail pushed to her feet and crossed to the luggage hold near the rear entrance. Mrs. Smith’s designer bag sat on a shelf by itself. Abigail hefted the purse and carried it gently back to its owner.

Chances were, Mrs. Smith was packing more than lipstick in there, and Abigail did not want to jostle it or be the one to set off whatever party favor the woman was carrying.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Smith smiled while her husband swirled more champagne in his flute.

Abigail smiled, if it could be called that, and returned to her seat.

I am a professional. I will not murder my bosses mid-flight.

Luke rubbed his chin, his dark gaze following her every move. He was a predator. Dangerous. Deadly. The difference between them was that Luke’s threat was overt. She knew by looking at him exactly what he was. Ex-Navy SEAL, and he’d probably seen time doing black ops. The tough shit that left scars on people. And yet…he wasn’t completely brittle. There was passion in there. He still believed in something.

Most importantly, he had no idea who or what she was. And she wanted to keep it that way.

“Do you prefer to be called Gail?” he asked.

“No.”

“Just Abigail then?”

“Yes.”

“No. Yes. If I ask something else will you just say yes or no?”

“Maybe.”

“Ah, you know how to sweet talk a man.” He smiled, all warmth and…friendliness. He was being familiar with her. Flirting.

She knew how to flirt, how to interact with people, but she was tired. Oh, so tired. And this—with Mr. and Mrs. Smith—was the final stop. Her last objective. And then…she didn’t know. Maybe it would be time for the long rest. Hang up her names, all of the orders. Be someone else.

“You know who they are?” Luke’s smile teased the corners of his mouth, but his tone was all business.

Yes, I do.

“Not a clue,” she said.

“My guy will find out. I’d like to know if we’re about to get screwed over or not. Any idea where we’re going?”

He spoke as though they were in this together. As if he were looking out for her. A stranger.

She blinked, parsing out his words.

Luke meant to protect her.

It was…unexpected. She’d lived her life in dangerous situations, sometimes if she were lucky there would be an agent at her back to provide protection, but that was their job. She was not Luke’s job. Or even his friend. And yet he was including her in his contingency plans.

He was a hero.

It irked her, deep down. Granted, she wanted to appear non-threatening. That was the point of it all. No one would see her coming. She didn’t need saving, but maybe…maybe she could use that to her advantage. Being underestimated worked in her favor more than being appreciated.

“You could be making a mistake telling me all of this.” She crossed one leg over the other.

“Maybe.” He held her gaze. She felt it as though it were a caress against her bare skin. She had to fight not to shiver from the intensity of it.

She was going to sleep with this man.

It might as well be a foregone conclusion. But she could not allow that act to get in the way of her objective. Which meant fostering this sense of familiarity.

She could use him.

“Amman, Jordan,” she said after a few seconds pause. It was a calculated share. He’d know the same thing soon enough. It wasn’t like he could get off the flight. Besides, he surprised her when so little did these days.

“Seriously?” Luke’s brows rose. “Shit. We ain’t got visas or anything.”

“It’s been handled.”

He tipped his chin down, his expression…suspicious.

“These two are bad news.” He shook his head.

Abigail agreed. Mr. and Mrs. Smith were some of the worst kinds of human scum, and as soon as Abigail got an opportunity—they’d be eradicated.

“Where’s your friend?” She needed to distract Luke from the identity of their temporary employer.

He was…a good man. The kind of man she’d have been attracted to before…everything. If at all possible, she needed to keep him out of the way, unconnected to her actions. He didn’t know it yet, but it was she who was protecting him.

“In the bunk.” Luke nodded toward the mid-section where two sets of three bunks made up the crew quarters. “How’d you figure out the destination?”

I knew before I ever took this job.

“Captain left the manifest sitting in his chair when he went to the lavatory.”

“Sneaky girl. I knew I liked you.”

Abigail smiled, despite her better sense screaming at her to tamp down on all expressions. If only he knew her whole story…would he like her then? Too bad it didn’t matter. In four days or less, they’d never see each other again, and he’d likely use her name as a curse.

“What’s the deal? You seem to know how things work.” He settled back in his seat, completely at ease.

“They had another set of male bodyguards with them when they picked me up in London.”

“Friend of a friend type deal?”

“Correct.”

“Did you know this was going to happen?”

Truth, or her story?

She’d lived lies so much, a truth would do her good.

“Yes, I had pre-warning that I was being hired to protect someone that was unknown to me.” Okay, one tiny lie. She had known who the intended client was—because she’d put herself in this position. She’d wanted them to hire her.

“What are we in for?”

“The bodyguards before me said that every twelve days they switch out their protection. His theory? So no one knows who they are.”

“How long have you been with them?”

“Eight days.”

“You’ve got four left then.”

“Correct.”

“They—what? Fly you home then?”

“The last bodyguards were taken out this morning to a meeting with Mr. Smith and instructed to bring their luggage because they would be going directly to the plane. Mr. Smith came back. The bodyguards did not.”

“Alive or dead?”

“Alive, I presume. My predecessor was left in a department store.”

“And we have no fucking clue who they are?” Luke shook his head.

The Smiths had chosen wrongly with Luke. He was too nosey. If he didn’t drop this campaign to learn more about them he’d get himself in over his head.

“Some advice?” She pitched her voice lower. “Stop asking questions you don’t want to pay the price for.” She stared at him, hoping he got exactly what she meant.

The Smiths were terrible people. It was why they had to be taken out. Hundreds, if not thousands, of lives would be saved. One of which was Abigail’s mother. It was a mission she couldn’t fail. Not even if it meant putting good men in danger.

2.

Luke let his gaze
travel over the people in the swanky hotel bar. Not half an hour ago, he’d been here under the capacity of watching his bosses-of-the-moment sip wine and laugh with someone Luke was certain he didn’t want to know. He’d escorted the couple back to their room with Ethan, while Abigail remained behind.

She fascinated him.

Not Military Police. Not a Marine. So what had she been? Where had she been?

He wanted to find out.

And not just because she was a pretty face.

Their bosses were bad news, and he needed to know more about Abigail. Where she came from. Who she was. If he could trust her when things went bad. And he had no doubt they would. Zain was preoccupied with their bosses, which meant digging up info on curvy and sexy was Luke’s job. If it weren’t for the surprising lack of information he found, he’d be a lot more comfortable in this gig. A person who left behind so little was hiding something. He intended to find out what it was.

Abigail sat alone at the bar, her suit jacket draped over the back of her seat and herlegs crossed.

He slid in next to her, leaning against the wooden surface. She didn’t start or even acknowledge his presence, just sipped another taste of the dark red wine.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” He smiled, even though so far that hadn’t seemed to work on her.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She arched one brow at him and turned her face just enough he could appreciate the full effect of her so-not-impressed stare.

“Looking for an angel who fell from heaven.”

“Must not have been a very good angel.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

That one got a chuckle out of her.

She shook her head and sipped the wine.

Luke signaled the bartender, who understood enough English to get him a beer. Not that Luke had any intention of drinking more than Abigail was. They both knew the drill. She’d been nursing the same glass of wine since he left her—he could tell because of the hard water stain on the bottom of the glass and the bartender always poured drinks into new glasses.

“You ever been to this part of the world before?” He slid onto the stool next to her.

“For work, never pleasure.”

“What kind of work?”

“This.” She flicked her fingers toward the corner booth the fake Mr. and Mrs. Smith had occupied earlier.

“Done it long?”

“Long enough.”

“Where you from?”

“New Jersey.”

“Ah, a Jersey girl. Never spent much time in Jersey. Any particular part?”

“Princeton.”

“Like, Princeton University, Princeton?” College towns like that took money. Judging by the way her suits were tailored and her taste in wine, he was confident that she’d been well-off for most of her life.

“Correct.” She ran her finger over the edge of the glass.

“Never made it through school. Always stuff to do.” He shook his head. It was his second regret in life. School might have meant a different future for him, but the Navy had given him everything. He didn’t have a lot of complaints.

“I find that hard to imagine.
You
, doing
stuff
?”

“Abigail, are you poking fun at me?”

“I would never dream to poke at the fragile male ego.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. Her answers were slippery non-answers, and yet he liked her. There was something about her…something he couldn’t shake. He just…liked her. And that made her dangerous. Especially to him. Luke knew when it came to women he had blinders on. Which was why months after Dianna had disappeared, he’d still looked for her.

“You could always stroke it a little, see if it gets bigger.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and she finally laughed outright, putting her hand over her mouth.

“Does that line actually work?” she asked.

“I don’t know, ask me in the morning.”

“I suppose women do like your pretty face. What is it your friend calls you?”

Luke rolled his eyes and groaned. God had blessed him with the looks he’d given another.

“Idris Elba,” he muttered under his breath.

“The actor? Hm.” Abigail tilted her head to the side. “I can see the resemblance, but you’re rougher around the edges.”

“Thank you…I think.”

“It was a compliment.”

“You can keep those coming.”

“To stroke your fragile male ego?”

“Exactly.” He turned toward her, propping a foot on the lowest rung of her chair.

It was time to take a gamble.

He was going to tell her.

At some point he’d already decided that, but it’d taken him longer to accept the decision, probably thanks to his track record with women. But she was different. Whoever Abigail was, he didn’t want to see her burned by these people. She wasn’t the kind of woman in the market for rescuing. And she had a right to know, so she could watch her back.

“Lean toward me like you’re interested in me. Really interested.” He lowered his lids and turned up the wattage on his smile.

“Now why would I do that?” She tilted her chin down and her lashes made one, slow wave at him.

That look was killer.

In this moment, damn. She was something else.

“Because I want to tell you a secret.” He reached for her hand and she allowed him to pull it away from her glass. Their gazes remained locked while he—for the hell of it—brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed one, two, three, all four of them.

Damn, he’d love to kiss the rest of her, too.

She turned the slightest bit toward him and leaned in closer.

“What secret would that be?” she asked.

Was it hot in here? Or was it just the way she was looking at him?

Maybe it wasn’t an act.

“I know Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s real names.”

“Oh?” She turned her hand in his, until their fingers could twine together. She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “That’s one thing you shouldn’t say out loud. The staff gives them a wide berth. What else do you know?”

He tilted his head away from her, the better to see her face, catch her expression when he told her the truth. “They’re criminal liaisons. They’re people who know people. They’re hired to be the go-betweens for a lot of unfriendly organizations and to help buyers find sellers. I imagine we are here to ensure a deal goes down without a hitch.”

To Abigail’s credit, her brows only lifted a little.

“Special Ops?” he asked.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” she said a little too loudly.

The bartender strolled by, towel in hand.

She was good.

Really good.

Infantry was out. She’d be wasted there, though he was curious what she was packing.

She grabbed her glass with her free hand and took a gulp.

Yeah, that was a lot of information to take in at once. And not the good kind of taking it either. The Smiths would shaft them without lube in the ass if it suited their needs.

“What do we do now?” she asked. To her credit, she didn’t seem too nervous.

“I’ve got my guy working on a contingency plan. Otherwise, we do our job and get out of here with as little fuss as possible.”

“How’d you find out all of this out? From a picture?”

If only he could tell her the truth—but that would be divulging company secrets and as much as he wanted to protect her, he didn’t know the first thing about her, even after this little chat.

“My guy’s good,” he said.

“I might want to meet this guy.”

“He’s not your type.”

“What is my type?”

“Chocolate.”

Abigail chuckled and slipped her hand from his.

“You are wonderful company, Mr. Briar. See you in the morning?”

“I’ll walk you up.” He tossed a few bills onto the bar.

“I have a few things to arrange for Mrs. Smith, but thanks for the offer.” She slid into her jacket, the white buttons of her shirt straining a bit as she adjusted the lay of the suit.

“You need anything, just whistle. You know how to whistle?”

Abigail shook her head.

“Goodnight, Luke. Don’t get lost on your way to the room.”

She turned and strolled out of the bar, not a few eyes trailing after her.

A woman like that was a rare thing. A breath of fresh air.

Luke saw enough damsels in distress to recognize a shield maiden, ready to slay the dragon when he met one. And Abigail was the kind of woman to take on the dragon and his whole crew. He’d feel a little sorry for the dragons, but not much.

She was the kind of woman he should go after. Hell, she was smart, pretty, and dangerous. He’d be crazy to let her get away. If he didn’t make some intentional choices, he’d have another Dianna in his life, and he needed that like he needed another kidney stone.

He walked the lobby, the few other open public areas, and headed up to the room he shared with Ethan just off the Smith’s suite. It was small and cramped, but the beds were soft and the sheets were clean. He counted the toilet paper as a bonus.

Ethan was stretched out on his bed, his tablet propped up in front of him and headphones on.

“That your kid?” Luke asked. “Tell him I said hi.”

He shed his clothes, doing his best to keep it down. The shit Ethan had been through over the last year with his less-than-faithful wife and their yo-yoing relationship was enough to put Luke on edge just listening to it. Ethan was a saint in Luke’s book, and he admired the man for sticking through the hard times.

“He’s not out of bed yet.” Ethan pulled off his headphones and tossed the tablet into his bag.

“Teenagers. Sleep all day if you let ’em.” Luke grinned.

There was no way in hell he was about to ask about Ethan’s wife. The way things went, he never knew if a polite “How’s she doing” would lead to a total meltdown and accusations of infidelity.

“Molly said hi.” Ethan stretched and crammed his pillow under his head.

“Oh yeah? How are things?”

“Good. Really good.”

Luke let out a breath. If anyone deserved to find marital bliss, it was Ethan. The man lived and breathed for his kid and wife, but doing what they did wasn’t easy on the ones who loved them. Luke didn’t know how the marrieds did it. How they kept the passion alive, what with being apart for weeks and months at a time, never knowing what kind of danger their husbands were in. The pay and benefits were better in the private sector, but lives could still be lost. It was just the reality of what they did. Who they were.

He wanted that someday. Or at least he thought he did. From the outside it looked awfully nice to have someone to come home to. Every time he thought he had it, he came home to an empty apartment. Sometimes literally. Twice he’d had women bail and clean him out of everything, even his underwear.

“She glad to get you out of the house?” Luke dug around in his toiletry bag until he found the toothbrush, still damp from when he’d used it earlier.

“Yeah, but that won’t last.” Ethan laughed. “What do you want to bet tomorrow it’ll be “When are you coming home?”” The man’s grin was…happy.

“Isn’t that how it always is?”

Luke scrubbed his teeth, doing a quick once-over to get the brief taste of beer out of his mouth before rinsing.

“What’d you find out about Abigail?”

“She’s from Princeton, New Jersey, educated, clearly trained, but I still can’t pin down what she was trained in.” Luke wiped his mouth and flipped the lights off.

“This has certainly become a shit storm, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it has.”

“Are we taking bets yet on how we get out of here?”

“So long as it’s not in a body bag I’m not picky. What’s it look like tomorrow?”

“I’m on room duty, the client wants you with him, but the itinerary has them in meetings here most of the day, so I imagine there’ll be time for a couple games of poker. Think Abigail would play?”

“I think she’d take us for everything we own.”

“Huh. So I won’t be the only one cleaning out your pockets then? Nice.”

“Man, turn your light off and shut up.”

Luke turned to lie on his side.

Tomorrow meant coming face to face with whoever the Smiths were doing business with. And it wouldn’t be a bunch of Mother Teresas, either. So long as he got Abigail and Ethan out of here alive, he’d call it a good day.

Hassan nearly cackled with
glee. Years of planning were about to reach culmination. It was perfect. So incredibly perfect he wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

She was in place.

After all this time, after all this waiting, the trap could finally snap shut. And then his new life would start. He couldn’t have lined it up like this if he’d wanted to.