“You might as well tell me,” he said. “I’ll get it out of you sooner and later, and you’ll be doing yourself a favor if it’s sooner.”
“I’m just imagining your failure with Sahara Rose,” I lied.
His pierced black brow arched, raising the silver stud. “If the thought of my failure is what put that ‘fuck-me-now’ expression on your face, keep thinking about it. Please.” The last word sounded foreign on his tongue, as if he’d never spoken it before.
I fought to keep my expression neutral, to keep from scowling. With his words, he placed his pleasure-giving image right back in the gutter of my fantasies.
“Must you be so crude?” I ground out.
“We kill people for a living, cookie, and you’re balking at my language?”
We might both be killers, but we were different on so many levels. I worked for peace, for the good of the people. He worked for money. My allegiance would never waver. His probably shifted with the wind.
“Oh, wait,” he added. “You’re a princess, a spoiled little rich girl. And don’t try to deny it. I’ve heard stories about your teenage years. Crying and pouting when you didn’t get what you wanted. ‘I asked for a blue dress, Daddy, not green,’” he mimicked in a high voice. “Boohoo.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re balking at my language. Girls like you can’t be happy, no matter their circumstances.”
My eyes narrowed. I was not that girl anymore. I hadn’t been for a long, long time. When I began my agent training, I’d even stopped calling Michael “Daddy.” I’d called him what every other agent called him. “Too bad there isn’t a price on your head,” I muttered. “You’re one target I’d take great joy in destroying.”
“Who says there isn’t a price on my head?”
My brows arched. “Is there?”
He shrugged. “You’re the hotshot tracker. You tell me.”
Our gazes clashed and held. Some invisible force refused to release me from its grip as I studied him. His features were as granite-hard and unreadable as ever. Nothing about his expression or body language betrayed his thoughts.
“Okay. Maybe there’s more than one,” I said. “You’re not the kind of guy who knows how to play nice. Most likely, you have enemies in every city, country, and hellhole you’ve ever entered.”
The moment I spoke the word “play,” his eyes dropped to my lips. The word actually hung between us like a living, breathing thing. Was he imagining naked, sweaty bodies? Drugging kisses and pleasure?
I glared at him, silently commanding him to look away. He didn’t. In fact, his stare became more intently focused on my mouth. Such intense scrutiny unnerved me, but I was used to controlling my actions. My body would obey the will of my mind, not my lust. I wanted to squirm and turn away, but I forbade myself even an inch of movement. For my job, I’d often sat in one place for hours, surveying my prey, not giving away my location by a single breath.
I decided to challenge him by turning his own question against him. “What are you thinking about?”
He arched his pierced brow again. “Do you want the honest answer or the same shit you gave me when I asked?” He didn’t give me time to reply, but finished with, “I’ll give you the honest answer.” He leaned forward, his mouth twisting upward, his eyes darkening. “I’m thinking how hot and wet and eager your lips will be when I win our bet.”
“You don’t even like me.”
“I don’t have to like you to want you.”
How like a man. Thankfully the landing gear moaned as it disengaged, saving me from slicing that smug grin off his face with the three-pronged razor strapped to my ankle. Never mind that I didn’t like him and wanted him myself.
The self-driving ITS glided smoothly into its programmed location, a private airstrip in New Dallas. Lucius and I hustled outside. A step behind him, I found myself watching the way his butt moved. Nice. Damn him.
The sun glared directly overhead, causing midday heat to wrap around me. My gold skin burned easily, more easily than a human’s. When possible, I wore long-sleeved shirts (with accessible slits for weapon handling) and tight black pants (also with accessible slits). I slid my dark sunglasses into place. Because I belonged to a hunted race, I also shoved my golden hair under a black ball cap.
A fine sheen of sweat formed, and a dirt-laden breeze kicked up. I hurried into the air-conditioned back seat of a bullet- and laserproof black Hummer. Two of Michael’s employees waited in the front. Both were physically fit humans in their mid-thirties. I recognized them and nodded. Ren, the muscled brute in the passenger seat, had asked me out on numerous occasions. I’d always turned him down. His wandering eye irritated me.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said.
“No problem, baby,” Ren said, giving me a welcoming smile. “Anything for you.” As he spoke, he sent me a wink. He even skimmed his gaze over my body, and I wouldn’t have doubted if he mentally willed my legs apart.
Any reply I offered would have encouraged him. I knew that from experience. So I kept my mouth closed.
The easy atmosphere changed when Lucius entered the vehicle and folded his big frame beside me. Ren avoided looking directly at him, but his lips pressed together in disdain. The driver, Marko, whipped around, facing us. His olive complexion and dark eyes were rosy with…fury?
“You guys have met before, I take it,” I muttered.
“He broke my fucking nose,” Marko snarled.
Lucius remained unperturbed. “I’ll break it again if you don’t turn your ass around and get us where we need to be.”
There was a sizzling pause, a suspended moment between the escalating tension where I was one hundred percent confident the three men were going to kill each other. Wait. Let me rephrase. I was one hundred percent confident Lucius would kill Marko and Ren. I doubted anyone or anything could hurt Lucius Adaire.
And wasn’t that a funny realization? When I’d first meet the man, I’d accused him of being all brawn and no brains, too pretty to actually fight. He’d proven himself capable during our training session. I’d give him that much.
I adjusted the sunglasses on my nose. Obviously, Lucius had served time in the military. Special forces, black ops maybe. Perhaps he’d even worked for A.I.R. at one time. He moved silently, fluidly, with the patent stillness of a predator. He didn’t balk at the thought of violence; he embraced it.
I still didn’t want him as my partner, though. How could I prove myself? How could I prove my worth and my capabilities with this tough man at my side? Despite his threats to let me die if I got in his way, he just might jump in front of me if gunshots erupted. Agents were protectors by nature, and he wouldn’t be able to help himself.
“I’m not paid by the hour, ladies, so let’s get this job done,” Lucius added.
I watched as Marko’s flush turned ruddy, his eyes narrowed to dark slits. He slowly turned away from us. His back and shoulders were stiff, and an aura of fury radiated from him. Ren was slower to turn around. He glanced from Lucius to me, from me to Lucius. He’d never seen me with another agent before, so undoubtedly he wondered what the hell I was doing with this one. I offered no explanation, and switched my attention to the window.
Trees were dry and yellow from lack of water. Tumbleweed rolled up the fenced enclosure and along the runway, and men rushed to remove them. Seconds later our coordinates were programmed into the car and we were speeding down winding back roads. No one spoke. In the silence, my awareness of Lucius became electric, a spark begging to burst into flame. The hard length of his thigh pressed against the firmness of mine. Where our clothes met, my nerve endings sizzled. He smelled good. Too good. Like soap and man and a hint of Michael’s woodsy cigars.