Flirting with Danger

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Flirting With Danger

ISBN #978-0-85715-963-2

©Copyright Elizabeth Lapthorne 2012

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2012

Edited by Laura Hulley

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Total-e-sizzling
and a
sexometer
of
1.

This story contains 97 pages, additionally there is also a
free excerpt
at the end of the book containing 6 pages.

The Agency

FLIRTING WITH DANGER

Elizabeth Lapthorne

Book one in The Agency series

Skye Adams thought she was meeting her father for an ordinary lunch. Instead she ends up running for her life on a deadly mission with only one man whom she can trust to keep her safe—Jack Berwick.

Skye Adams is looking forward to a wonderful lunch with her father—Victor Adams—to celebrate her birthday after he returns from a work trip. Instead of a good meal of Thai food, however, Skye ends up on the run for her life. Black-clad strangers try to kill her and her father’s partner Garth and decimate the restaurant to smoking rubble. Scared out of her mind, Skye turns to the only person she feels she can trust, Jack Berwick, a rugged, mysterious man her father once insisted she believe in should all hell break loose.

Piecing together a complicated web of lies, half-truths and deceit, Skye and Jack must not only work out whom to trust, but also figure out what happened to Victor and how to get him back—preferably whole and sound. The further they dig, the more convoluted everything becomes and Skye finally understands the world is not full of black and white, good and evil, but a messy mixture of grey.

In amongst the fear, fire and insanity, more and more Skye realises that the searing attraction burning between herself and Jack is the only solid, reliable thing she can depend on. Losing her heart had not been part of the plan, but all too soon the intensity smouldering between them has raged way out of control, and Skye can only see one man dependable enough to remain by her side into the future no matter what might happen. That man is Jack, as they both tempt fate and flirt with danger.

Dedication

With grateful thanks to Laura, Lily and Cindy. You guys rock!

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Four Seasons: Four Seasons Hotels Limited

James Bond: Ian Fleming

Chapter One

Skye Adams knew first-hand that life was never easy when your dad was the equivalent of James Bond. She’d known this to some level from her very youngest days—though it wasn’t until her late twenties that she understood the true nature of his work. Her only knowledge while growing up was that her daddy’s work was ‘important’.

She couldn’t count the number of missed dance recitals, parent-teacher interviews or times someone else had had to drop her off home because she was the last one waiting to be picked up, seemingly forgotten by her father.

Lucy Adams, her mother, had died of cancer before Skye turned twelve. Skye knew her parents loved her very much, but that didn’t help the overwhelming loneliness that marred the ten or so years after her mum’s passing.

A chill of fear always shivered down her spine when she thought back to how she had almost passed by the one time her father had reached out to her for help. When the phone had rung at a little after two a.m., a bored-sounding operator had asked if she’d take an emergency, reverse charges call from Victor Adams who was at an unpronounceable hospital in Helsinki, Finland.

Skye’s first thought as she’d run a hand through her shoulder length, brown curls had been that the call was an elaborate joke being pulled over her by a friend. Laughing, still half asleep, she had assured the operator that, sure, she’d take the call. Skye had expected a howl of laughter followed by some quick commentary and identification of the friend forthwith.

Instead, a very shaky, weak, male had spoken, then stopped to clear his throat. The undeniable tone of her father had come once again over the scratchy connection.

“Skye, can you hear me? Damn this abominable hospital phone to hell,” her father had growled.

“Daddy?” she’d gasped, her warm blue eyes widening in the darkness of her bedroom as she shot bolt upright in her bed. She hadn’t wanted to believe that the call was from Helsinki and from her father, but his voice was unmistakable.

“I’ve run into a minor problem, sweetheart,” Victor had continued, pain evident in his every word. The very faint slurring had made Skye wonder what kind of painkillers they had given him, or possibly just how very much suffering he must have been enduring for his voice to sound so ragged. She’d never seen him so much as flinch before in her life.

Always her father’s voice and manner soothed and calmed her every fear. Victor Adams had always been the strongest, most steadfast man of her acquaintance. Fear had clutched at Skye’s heart, as to what could be going on, confusion had clouded her mind.

She’d reminded herself that, whatever happened, her father could handle it. Obviously something extreme had occurred and he’d turned to her for help. She needed to keep a grip on herself.

Skye had followed her dad’s clipped, precise instructions to the letter and, in what had felt like both forever and no time at all, she had made it to his hospital room, his travel suitcase packed, assisting him to discharge himself.

Victor had been shot in the leg, beaten and abused. She’d overheard the nurses gossiping that he’d nearly died from the blood loss. The transfusion and her father’s foreigner status as well as lurking police suspicion surrounding his true motivations for being in the country had convinced the doctors that the most stringent requirements regarding this man needed to be in place.

They would only release him to a family member.

His protégé and sometime partner, Garth Spenser, had also been present that evening when Skye had arrived. Tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned and with a neatly clipped beard, he sat in the corner of the room on the single chair and glowered at her as she’d tried to make sense of what her eyes told her. Garth had left, muttering something to Victor about ‘giving you some space’.

The moment they’d had privacy she’d demanded a full explanation. The dislocated kneecap and evident beating around his face and upper body did not point to the vague ‘financial broker’ career he’d always talked about.

Her dad had finally told her the truth. He worked for an agency in the espionage industry for the United Kingdom.

Initially Skye hadn’t been able to help but feel the story was preposterous, a fabrication for who knew what reasons. She had pressed him, annoyed by his seemingly frivolous attitude. All too soon, random dots she’d never thought twice about had connected, until Skye’s eyes were opened to the full picture.

Her father was a spy.

In the years since then, despite his frequent travel and near endless overtime, they had grown closer. One of Skye’s greatest pleasures was that they’d discovered a mutual love of good food. Eating out at different, new restaurants had become a semi-regular occurrence, where they could relax, get to know each other once more and reconnect on a new level as adults, as well as father and daughter.

For her birthday the week before she had been looking forward to enjoying her first experience at a newly opened Thai restaurant they had both been curious about. Victor had called her, however, and informed her he had a quick mission he needed to take care of.

“It will be a few days’ turnaround, tops, sweetheart,” he had assured her. “It’s personal this time, I can’t entrust it to anyone else. I swear I’ll shout you the full banquet and I’ve organised something special for your birthday as soon as I return.”

True to his word, when he’d texted her the details of his return flight they had organised their lunch date at the Golden Mih Goo Wak Restaurant.

The day was sunny and clear, though the wind still held the crispness of early spring. Skye was led to the table her father had booked for them. She smiled as she realised it was along one side, midway between the front door and the back entry to the kitchen.

Perfect placement to both monitor their surroundings and beat a hasty retreat in either direction should the unthinkable happen. Her father took his planning and strategies seriously.

Knowing she was a few minutes early, Skye pulled out her e-reader and opened up her latest purchase. Engrossed, she kept half an ear out for her phone to ring in case her father was delayed—now, without fail, he’d call her—but she lost track of the time.

When Skye’s stomach rumbled, she looked up with surprise. Frowning, she realised a lot of the people who had surrounded her when she’d sat down had eaten and left. Powering down her e-reader, she checked her watch.

Astonished, she discovered it was almost two o’clock. Digging in her handbag, Skye pulled out her phone and made certain it received reception inside the eatery. Scrolling through her inbox to check she hadn’t missed a call or message, she tried to stem the small spurt of worry that tingled through her.

You’re being silly. Your father is a seasoned agent, well versed and a tutor within the industry. There’s no need for concern.

From memory, Skye punched in his private number. After the hospital incident, her dad had bought a new mobile phone, one he kept with him at all times and used in emergencies. He’d told her less than half a dozen people had the number. Even if he was in a meeting, he’d answer this call.

The phone rang and rang. After what seemed like an endless time, it turned to voicemail.

“Dad, it’s me,” she said. “I’m at the restaurant. It’s two, where are you? Please call me back, even if it’s just to cancel. Love you.”

Skye reached out and took a sip of her now lukewarm tea as she thought hard. After far too much time with her father, she’d also mastered the fine art of leaving oblique messages. Victor always insisted you never knew who would listen either to a voice message left behind or on an open line. She’d teased him for his paranoia, but they both knew it was largely responsible for his longevity in an industry not known for agents who retired owing to old age.