by Misty Evans
His partner’s voice shook as she relayed the details about the previous day, including the fact she believed a version of Disease X had already been created.
As he handed her the coffee, she gave him a grateful smile. “We’re attending two lectures today, one a panel Dr. Epstein is leading.”
“You’ve already made inroads with Falana. She checked into Codex One and Graham Sterling’s portfolio of investments and social media accounts.”
“I have a portfolio?” Mick inquired.
“She has one of her minions digging into your dark web connections as well.” Beatrice tapped a pen on her desktop. “It’s my understanding you have not secured an invite to the party on Friday night. Is that correct?”
Cassandra fidgeted with the cup and took a sip, as if buying time.
Mick cut in before she could answer. “I've got it covered. We’ll get one today.”
Cassandra shot him another nervous glance, her eyes seeming to say, I sure hope so.
A curt nod from Beatrice told him that was acceptable. “Very good. I agree with your assessment, Themis—the countess is ready to exact her revenge, so time is of the essence. She has booked a travel itinerary for her and the doctor, they leave the day after the conference for Africa. We need to stop her before she leaves Austria, is that clear?”
Cassandra's knee bobbed up and down under the granite overhang. Mick laid his hand gently on top of her thigh. “While your means of recruiting me for this mission are highly unusual, I do appreciate you breaking me out of prison. I can, and will, handle Falana.”
Beatrice leaned forward and gave him another nod. “I'll expect your update about the party invite later today.”
She used the pen to punch something on her keyboard and the screen went blank.
“Okay, then. Good talk,” Mick said.
Cassandra placed a hand over his where it rested on her thigh. She stopped bobbing her knee. “How can you be so sure we'll get it today?”
He wasn't, but damn if he wasn't going to bust his ass to get it. “You didn't really think the countess would simply fall into our laps, did you?”
She shrugged. “I figured with your good looks and overly abundant charm, she’d be drooling and falling at your feet, offering you anything.”
“I like the visual.” Except, in his imagination, it was Cassandra, not Falana. “But what fun is there in the game if there's no challenge?”
Cassandra rolled her eyes, releasing his hand. She slid off the barstool, grabbing her coffee cup. “I don't want a challenge, I want to achieve our goal.”
She was striking in the sunlight coming through the kitchen window as she rinsed out her mug. He smiled at her back. Challenge was what made life worth living, and getting Cassandra knocking body parts with him was much higher on his list than securing that invite. He’d had a taste and now he wanted more.
He couldn't tell her that, and he needed to reassure her, rid her of that nervousness Beatrice instilled in her. “Like I told your boss, I've got it covered. You worry too much.”
She turned and leaned on the sink, crossing her arms over her generous breasts. The fleeting memory of his hands on them thickened his cock. “She’s yours too.”
Maybe. He still didn't know her, and even though he owed her a debt for breaking him out, he didn't like the way she unnerved Cassandra. “Why didn't you tell her you don't want to be called Themis anymore?”
She glanced away, picked at invisible lint on her skirt. “It wasn't important.”
“She makes you nervous.”
Her gaze came up and locked on his. “She doesn't, this mission does.”
Right. He scanned her from head to toe. The conservative lawyer had to go. “I'm going to grab a shower, wanna join me?”
She laughed softly under her breath. “About what happened…” She flapped a hand in the air toward the living room.
He let the sentence hang, cocking his head and waiting for her to go on.
She fiddled with a piece of hair that had broken rank from the rest. “It shouldn't have. We fell asleep and ended up in that position. No harm done, we can resume our professional relationship.”
Mick slid off his stool and stalked toward her. She backed up, but couldn't go anywhere because of the sink. He placed his hands on either side of her and pinned her in. “Is that all you want with me, Cassie? A professional relationship?”
Her eyes dropped to his lips and her tongue snaked out to lick her own. “I have a firm rule that I don't mix business with pleasure, nor do I do casual sex, and besides, you're only flirting with me because I'm the first woman you’ve seen in two years.”
“Is that what you think?” He couldn't exactly deny it, but even if he hadn't been alone and celibate for so long, she would've knocked his socks off.
She nodded tentatively.
He brushed his mouth over hers, a light, feathery kiss. “Well, you're wrong, and I intend to prove it to you.”
Before she could protest, he left her standing at the sink and went upstairs to lay out clothes for her.
7
Beware of the dangerous rogue operative
Cassandra paced in front of the bed, eyeing the dress and heels. Mick was becoming a regular fashion mogul and a pushy one at that.
The red dress from the other day splayed over the bedspread, accompanied by a black-and-white striped jacket that boasted a Chanel label. Her fingers traced the material of both garments, the conservative black pumps nearby a perfect complement.
Her lips tingled from his kiss, her skin remembering the scratch of his beard. She’d tried to get her point across—she was a professional and respected Beatrice and the others too much to blow this mission. And, like she’d told Mick, she didn’t do casual sex.
Not that she’d had a lot of offers since Robbie and that disaster of a college romance, but it wasn't her style. Sex came with too many strings, too many unknowns. Relationships, even more so. Emotions tangled up her brain and upended her comfortable life.
She had no doubt Mick knew what he was doing in the casual sex department. His file hadn’t indicated any serious relationships, and she doubted he was interested in them. Keeping things casual and carefree seemed more his style.
She, on the other hand, longed for a partner in life, someone she could lean on and trust with all of her Type A compartments, and show the messier sides she’d buried deep after Robbie had left her. Her body thought Mick was the perfect man for helping overcome those hurts, but her heart and head knew better. There was no future for them.
She bit a thumbnail between her teeth, eyeing the clothes. The dress was perfect with the jacket and pumps to tone down the sexiness, but a part of her wanted to stay in her white blouse and navy skirt. Yesterday, she’d called plenty of attention to herself, and it had been fun, but today? All of a sudden, the introvert in her wanted to hide.
Damn kiss.
She envied Mick’s self-confidence, his cockiness, but then, he was a beautiful specimen of a man. Rough, rugged…those muscles. Everything about him screamed sex on a stick. It was easy for him to get his way, to charm people.
Right now, it appeared he wanted her, and he was flooding her with that damn charm.
Was she stupid to refuse? Probably. She should jump into bed with him, enjoy the casual sex, and move on. That's what modern women did, right?
She bet women all over the world had fallen for that Mick smile, those muscles. Her heart skipped a beat, remembering how damn good he’d felt against her body, and she had to sit on the edge of the bed. She'd only met him a few days ago, and here she was a hot mess because he’d kissed her.
Technically, he’d done more than that, feeling her up and grinding his pelvis into hers with a very large, very firm erection.
And, oh boy, she had been all in for a moment there.
Just thinking about it made her burn all over again. She was an idiot. She should've ripped his clothes off and got him inside her as fast as possible.
He was a hero, an amazing man, and he wanted to have wild, passionate sex with her.
She hung her head for a moment, her brain and heart in turmoil. Then logic kicked in, reminding her that they’d been out in the open and anyone could’ve walk in and seen them. Totally unprofessional.
Evidence to the point, Henley had caught them. They’d only been discussing sex at that point, but still. The embarrassment wormed its way through her stomach.
Mick might not care what the others thought, but she did. How could she sit in the SFI conference room and negotiate contracts across the table from them if they'd seen her in a romantic embrace with one of their coworkers?
Worse, what if Beatrice found out? What if Cassandra had been having sex with Mick on the couch in front of the whole world when Beatrice had called?
She almost had. Messy, messy, messy. The sex might be worth it, but ruining her career for a quickie on the couch? No way. She might be horny as hell, but she would not throw the past ten years of education and job experience away to screw some guy’s brains out. Not even one as sexy and charming as Mick, her own personal action hero.
A knock, and the man in question poked his head in. He frowned when he saw her sitting on the bed.
“Why aren't you ready?” He scanned her face and pushed inside, stopping a few feet from her. “Are you sick, Cass?”
Sick, yeah, that was it.
He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit that nearly took her breath away. She almost answered yes to his question, her brain, heart, and body all pulling in different directions. “Sorry, give me a minute. I'll meet you downstairs.”
“Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He dropped down beside her. “Why do you work for Beatrice if she makes you so nervous?”
“Beatrice?”
“What happened to the confident, kick-ass woman who got me to sign that damn contract the other day and stepped up to go undercover with me at this conference? All of a sudden this morning, you turned into a basket case because you had to talk to Beatrice.”
He took hold of her hand. “I don't know the woman well, but she's not that scary, and you and Hunter have been singing her praises since you broke me out. I thought you liked her.”
“I do like her. She's not the one who makes me nervous. I'm a basket case because…”
She stopped before she finished making an ass out of herself. Withdrawing her hand from his grip, she stood and tried to work up that kick-ass woman he thought she was.
Somewhere deep inside, she liked the idea he thought of her that way. Most of the time, she was kick-ass.
At least she told herself she was. “We need to get going.” She motioned him out. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He rose and stopped in front of her, staring down into her face. “You’re still upset about what happened on the couch.”
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “I respect and admire you, Lt. Ranger, and if circumstances were different, I'd take you up on the offer you made this morning. However, at the moment, we are working together and my professional reputation is extremely important to me. It's really the only thing I have, so I hope you'll understand when I tell you I will help you in any way possible on this mission, and if you need a lawyer, I'm your gal. But as long as we're both working for Beatrice, we can't be together…like…that.”
He stared at her, silence enveloping them for a long moment. Then he touched her arm, a light brush of his fingers, and nodded. “This morning on the couch, I thought it was a dream, and it was a damn good one while it lasted, but I apologize for overstepping the line with you.” It looked like it pained him to say the next words. “Thank you for everything you've done. If you truly aren't interested in pursuing anything unprofessional with me, I'll back off.”
He left her standing there.
He understood. He'd apologized. He was willing to keep things professional.
That's what she wanted.
So, why did she feel so awful?
Closing the door, she took a deep breath and hated herself for being so damned professional.
Seize an opportunity when it arises
Conference
During a break between a talk on cell biology of infections and one on viral invasion strategies, Cassandra found herself staring at Seymour with her mouth hanging open. “Are you headhunting me?”
His mouth quirked and he flashed perfectly white, straight teeth at her. “I prefer to call it recruiting you to our cause.”
Our cause. Since meeting him, she’d learned more about his consulting for Lanix Biotech. Mostly, he traveled the world, researching public health issues and helping with epidemic outbreaks in Third World countries. He enjoyed his work and had helped a lot of people, not by sitting behind a desk, but being in the field performing hands-on research and development that truly made a difference. “Lanix Biotech needs a COO?”
“We’re not a pretty start-up company with no legs. Our R&D is developing at an accelerated pace because of the talent and drive of our scientists, medical practitioners, and just as importantly, the expertise and vision of our founder. We need a legal department, one you’d be perfect to head. I told my boss about you, and she was very impressed. She wants to meet before she leaves on her next business trip.”
“I don't know what to say.”
“She’s a unique individual who sees a better future for the world, and that begins with health and medical care for everyone, regardless of economic status or where they live. She’s looking for highly qualified people who want to make a difference too. You strike me as that kind of person.”
Boy, he was good. For a long moment, Cassandra felt the wheels in her brain spin. She'd been so invested in working with the US government since graduating law school, she’d never considered the international field. Of course, her dream of building her own law firm was foremost in her mind, but she could see attractive possibilities for her in the field of healthcare management as well. “I'm flattered, but I'm not looking for a job.”
“How many times do you get into the field and see your investments for Mr. Sterling and Codex One make a difference in people’s lives?”
She stammered, and luckily, Mick showed up at her elbow before she had to formulate an answer. “Did I hear my name?”
Seymour's eyes shuttered while he continued to smile. “Ah, there you are. Ms. Juno and I were discussing the value of fieldwork. Do you get into the field much?”
“Only the rugby field.”
Mick winked and Cassandra coughed. “Dr. Gotty has a great deal of experience on the ground with viral epidemics. It sounds quite fascinating.”
“I’m sure.” Mick looked like he’d eaten starch.
Cassandra had asked Parker to run a background check on the man, and as Cassandra started to say something else, she heard Parker in her comm unit, “Heads up, people. Rory traced a black market financial transaction that appears to have involved two of our players last year. We believe Lanix Biotech may be a shell company for Kossiwa Enterprises.”
Kossiwa Enterprises—Falana’s shady medical R&D company. Cassandra shot Mick a look. He was staring at Seymour. Was Falana the boss Seymour had just told her about?
“I'm afraid I've been bending your ear too much,” Seymour said to Cass, seemingly eager to get away from Mick. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, then backed away. “I should return to the conference. Let’s chat again later.”
Mick stopped him with a firm grip on his elbow, pulling him in close once more. “I know you're trying to recruit my chief operating officer right out from under my nose, Dr. Gotty.” His voice was low and dangerous, the edge to it sending a shiver over Cassandra's skin. “I'll forgive you for your absolute and utter rudeness if you’ll buy me a drink later. I've been looking for a doctor with field experience to consult for Codex One in the area of viral antidotes. That’s a specialty of Lanix, correct?”
Seymour glanced at Cassandra, then back at Mick. “I appreciate the offer,
but I'm afraid I have a noncompete clause with my current employer.”
“I'm sure Ms. Juno can work around that,” Mick said, oozing confidence. He released his grip. “She’s a legal genius, you know, and you wouldn't want her to lose her job over your bold attempt to steal her from me, now would you? Or maybe that’s your plan.”
Cassandra's eyes bugged and her jaw fell open. She tried to remember the part she was playing, and snapped her mouth closed. “You can't fire me! Dr. Gotty and I were only having a conversation.”
Seymour had the decency to look upset. “I'm sure a drink wouldn't hurt. In fact,”—he recovered faster than she had—”I’d like to invite you both to a party my employer is throwing tomorrow night for some special guests. Perhaps there is some…arrangement…we can make that will benefit both our companies.”
“That’s more like it.” Mick slapped him on the back. “I'm sure you have Cassie’s phone number. Text her the details, and we’ll be there.”
And then, Mick being Mick, he gave the guy that charming smile and leaned close to murmur in his ear. “I don't take kind to poaching, so stay away from my girl.”
The poor doctor looked startled and jerked back, sending a feeble smile to Cassandra. “Enjoy the rest of the conference.”
Hastily, he disappeared into the crowd and Cassandra turned on Mick. “What the hell was that?”
“The guy has some balls trying to steal you away from my company right under my nose.”
She took a step closer to him and lowered her voice. “You don't have a company, and maybe after I'm done with this mission, I might want a job working with Seymour. He's a good guy.”
Mick wasn’t cowed by her. He angled her into a corner, getting into her personal space and bringing them face-to-face. “Jett just said he's working for Falana.”
There was that, but her claws came out anyway. “Technically, that’s not what she said. Just because Lanix is a shell company for Kossiwa Enterprises doesn't mean Seymour knows what she's doing.”
