Toxic Seduction (Romantic Secret Agents Series Book 3)

by Roxy Sinclaire

  When I got to her hips, I lowered into a crouch, craning my neck to keep her eyes.

  "Widen your legs for me, just a bit." The words came out in a murmur, and I saw her swallow, felt her body shift under my hands as she moved to comply.

  I'd looked at her body long enough to know every curve, even as I mapped them with my hands—for purely business purposes, of course—but I hadn't gotten a good look at her eyes. They were brown, like I'd guessed, but not a dull brown like I was used to seeing. Even in the slightly shadowed corner, they seemed to glimmer.

  They were surprisingly familiar eyes. But right then, all I was interested in was how intently they watched me.

  Click HERE to continue reading Dirty Indiscretions: A Dark Mafia Romance

  Excerpt From Lethal Seduction

  Excerpt from Lethal Seduction: A CIA Romantic Suspense

  Chapter 2

  Fourteen hours was a long drive to make, especially if you made it in one shot and didn’t do more than stop for gas and to piss. He hadn’t bothered to sleep either before he got on the road. He ate fast food and paid for everything in cash, leaving no paper trail. It had been a part of the brief training that involved disappearing and leaving nothing but a body.

  Making a job of killing people would surely affect his view of the world, or it should. He should be jaded and angry, suffering from the ghosts of the people he killed. But he felt nothing, which worried him to some degree. If he felt no remorse, how did that separate him from any other bloodthirsty killer? Was it because he was getting paid? That he was government contracted?

  Was he bloodthirsty? Did he enjoy dealing out death?

  He didn’t think so. He didn’t look forward to the next mark that took up his inbox. It wasn’t the next chance to put a bullet in someone or glide his knife through their throat. He didn’t look for inventive new ways to kill people. He made sure to make it quick and as painless as he possibly could. There was no need to make them suffer.

  There was something sacred about taking the life of another person, and he didn’t really want to lord over them like some sort of death god. A quiet Grim Reaper that swept in to take a life was something he preferred. It held a nice image for him.

  He made quite the small fortune living this life. His bank account attested to that every time he gave it a look. If he quit today, he had enough to buy a decent sized plot of land, find a girl, and start a family without the need to work another day. It would all be easily taken care of. There would be no struggle, no wonder of how to put food on the table.

  Find a girl? Start a family? Were these serious thoughts he was having? Could he love someone? If he felt nothing after ending another person’s life, would he be capable of something as simple as love? If a woman knew the amount of blood that was on his hands, could she even fathom loving him?

  He didn’t know, but this was one thing the road was good for. Deep thoughts. He rubbed a hand over the scruff that had grown on his face as he considered his line of thought. The thoughts sobered him and twisted up his gut. He reflected on the girl he had left back in the motel, the prostitute.

  He spent his free time with women he paid to get him off. How was he supposed to relate to a woman? Would he garner a worthwhile woman? How would he even know how to love her and get her to love him?

  He wasn’t a bad looking guy, or so he’d been told. He kept the close-cut hair that was forced upon him at boot camp, but he occasionally sported the beginnings of a beard when the idea of shaving was just something he didn’t want to do. Beards were in now, right? Honestly, he didn’t know.

  He hadn’t tried to pick up a woman that he didn’t have to pay for since high school. It was just easier to look for women on street corners. He looked in the rearview mirror. His eyes were a vivid blue that was something chicks were into, or at least the girls he saw commented on them.

  Considering his demons, considering what he was, he was surprised at the brightness that looked back at him. Should he be attractive? It didn’t seem right.

  It was then that he realized what he wanted. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but he wanted someone. Someone to love and someone who loved him. The idea of having a home and someone to come home to was something that hit him like a brick. It hit almost hard enough that he swerved on the empty road.

  Wasn’t that the American dream? A house and a wife with two-point-five kids? Was this why he had no problem doing what he did? Why he didn’t feel anything? Why he was empty? Because he really didn’t have anything? Why hadn’t he considered it before? He hadn’t considered any of that until just now, driving in the predawn hours, going to end the life of some unsuspecting woman.

  “This will be the last one,” he said to himself. “It’s time that I stop getting my hands dirty and start working on what I want.” He would just have to let Austin know. Surely, a man who sat in an office and dealt out death safely behind his desk would understand. Austin could have a wife and a family, for all he knew.

  He could have a life. Scott didn’t feel like he had one. But he would stop the lifestyle of getting by, pretending to live, and start work on what he wanted, what he deserved to have too.

  When he started rolling into Denver, he had the misfortune of hitting five o’clock traffic. The interstate became clogged and his patience for the stop and go traffic was starting to wear on him. He was tired. He would have to get a motel room while he was here because he would definitely need to break for sleep.

  With the thought of a bed in mind, he pulled off at the nearest exit, which happened to be downtown. After driving around aimlessly, he stopped at a chain motel. Though he preferred the non-chain variety, he wasn’t going to be picky. He got a room with little fuss, paying in cash. The idea of sleep had him lingering in his rented room for longer than necessary. He thought about showering, about falling onto that bed and getting much-needed sleep.

  He had shit to do. He could sleep afterward. The more he loitered here, the longer it would take. First, he needed a lead. He needed to find a trail.

  Seeing a bar across the street gave him an idea. He started on foot, going to each bar with his description, looking for some sort of lead. It was just past six when he wandered into a bar that was more than a mile from the motel he was staying at when he picked up the lead he had been looking for.

  “Jovy?” a little redheaded waitress eyed him curiously. “That sounds like her. She’s usually in here on Fridays for the bar crawl. We don’t really get a crowd until about ten. She’ll probably be in then.” Curiosity turned to suspicion, though he had already gotten what he was looking for. She was a little late to be protective. “Why you looking for her?”

  He found a probable lie, since the mark was female. “I was in here last week and I saw her.” He looked down, playing at being bashful. “We had a couple of dances and I didn’t get her number at the time. I was hoping I’d get lucky tonight.”

  The waitress seemed to buy it, though it didn’t stop her from checking him out. “Well. Hopefully, you’ll see her later.”

  He nodded and left the bar. There were only a few people there, and the only one who would recognize him was the waitress. She didn’t get his name, and his reasoning for looking for the woman was vague enough. He wouldn’t worry about it. He decided to scope out a perch, somewhere close to the bar, so he wouldn’t have to get close to the mark and he could just pick her off. An office building with a For Rent sign in a window caught his eye. It looked like the perfect nest.

  He found his way back to the pick-up truck that brought him to Denver and took his time setting up, getting his rifle set up and gathering snacks for the wait. He had time to kill getting ready for his target.

  Chapter 3

  It had been a long day, an even longer week, and a longer month. She was in need of a night out, a few drinks, and hopefully, a guy to make her forget about her problems. It seemed like the last year had been nothing but a series of unfortunate events that led her to just floating through the days,
trying to get by. Was it a year? Maybe it was more of a lifetime of unfortunate events.

  She was a child who grew up getting whatever her heart desired. A princess, royalty that wasn’t really royal. Her family were vicious crime lords who brought the country of her birth to its knees, nearly causing it to self-destruct out of greed. Greed that led to their deaths and the end of everything she knew.

  Normally, you would think after having everything ripped away, she would be bitter and angry, that she would damn the men and the country who took her family and extravagant lifestyle from her. But even as a child, she was able to identify the difference between right and wrong.

  She could see the suffering around her while her mother and father lived like kings. Of course, it all ended, and the reign of the Borjan family was snuffed out in a single bloody night.

  She should be remorseful. While she didn’t offer any aid to the men who ended her family, she didn’t make any effort to help her family either. She kept silent, though that wasn’t what really haunted her. It was the vivid blue eyes of the man who had the menacing gun pointed at her.

  That soldier could have killed her. She was sure he helped kill the rest of the people in her family home. But he didn’t. He hesitated, and as soon as he was distracted by some force that tore his attention away from her, she had managed to escape. She expected to be chased down, hunted like an animal. Yet, here she was years later, leading her life.

  After escaping the elimination of her family, she was a child without a direction as to where to go. In the aftermath of the war, which led to many orphans as they often do, she was given the opportunity to travel to the United States.

  Knowing the soldier who gave her the second chance at life was American, she took it. She took the chance at life, and with determination, she worked her way through school. She wanted to show her appreciation for the country that freed her people from the tyranny her family had created. She worked with the idea that she might see the blue-eyed man who let her go again. There was this hope that she would find him and be able to thank him again.

  While drive was something that led her to good grades and a fast track through college, it seemed to peter out now. She had managed a dream job at the CIA, working to show her appreciation, as she saw it. Working as a data analyst had made her feel trusted and valued.

  It helped her work toward correcting the grief her family had created. She felt that she was worthy now and was no longer seen as the daughter of monsters, though no one here had made that connection. She was a citizen of this country, even with her accent. Living the American dream didn’t last very long when it all shattered due to something she considered to be her own stupidity.

  She had been seduced and then duped into betraying the country that she considered a savior. She had given away codes and valuable information to a Russian spy. He had been an attractive man who had approached, complimenting her beauty and asking to buy her a drink. It was a foolish mistake. She had allowed the appeal of a handsome man and the prospect of where that could go to distract her.

  She had wanted him, and he had probably predicted that, something she had agonized over. She took the punishment, accepting the end of her career without complaint or protest. She had done this to herself. She was surprised the punishment hadn’t been worse. She expected that she would be jailed. In some countries, they would kill her for the betrayal.

  It led to her current position, a lowly secretary at a small personal injury law firm. There was no effort, and she was providing no assistance to her country. She breezed through her days on autopilot, doing what was necessary to keep herself afloat and not drown in the despair she had created for herself. All she did was get coffee, take dictations, and file files.

  So, she took the weekends as a way to create distraction. Alcohol to drown her and attractive men when she wanted them to entertain her. All were a means to ignore just how she threw everything she had away. She stood in her bathroom, watching her appearance as she put on makeup to accentuate the watery blue of her eyes.

  Tonight would be a night where she would find a willing partner to distract her from reality. She had a natural beauty to her, sharp cheekbones and full lips with a wealth of dark blonde hair.

  She was beautiful and she knew it. She got men’s attention easily. She had curves and long legs. She wouldn’t have any problems finding someone to help distract her. It was almost eight when she found her favorite shimmery blue dress that clung to her curves and made her feel sexy. The material was silky, and it was enough to make her forget her problems. The appreciation of herself was apparent in her reflection.

  “You will go out,” she told herself evenly. “And you will have a good time.” She just hoped saying it aloud would make it happen. She needed it.

  Chapter 4

  He took several hours to set up his nest, finding the perfect vantage point in a third-floor window. It was an office building that had already cleared out for the weekend. He decided the best course of action was to take her out as a sniper. Being far enough away as he killed her would help alleviate his guilt.

  With the crowded streets, there wasn’t a way to snatch the woman and dispose of her without witnesses, but with the closeness of the buildings, it would be easy to pick her off even if there were several people around. The silencer on his rifle would quiet the gun but it wouldn’t completely muffle the noise of the gunfire.

  With the way the street was set up, the noise would echo off the other buildings and make it hard to place where he was sitting. So, anyone who saw the woman die wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where the shot came from. It was the perfect spot.

  He had his gun set up, perched out of sight from the people down below. It was loaded and ready. He stole a chair from one of the offices and spent the majority of the time people watching through a set of binoculars. He kept a careful eye on the women, seeing none who fit his description, and he was not willing to make a mistake by killing the wrong one.

  He didn’t like the idea of killing women. He’d be damned if he shot the wrong one. Even with pushing twenty-four hours without sleep, he wasn’t foolish enough to not be thorough.

  He lost track of the hours that went by since he arrived in Denver. He was that tired. He spent that time breaking into the building and setting up his little nest, getting snacks and drinks to tide him over and even setting up his laptop for a bit of entertainment.

  He had gotten out of the loop of popular television shows and had never really gotten into the idea of binging. There was too much to do and oftentimes, things were too dangerous for him to pursue a show. Technology was great, but there were some aspects of it that he didn’t feel the need to take advantage of, binge-watched television shows being one aspect.

  The binoculars he used were high-tech, giving him the opportunity to zoom on each face of the people down below. He didn’t mind the people watching. There was something to seeing what a normal life was supposed to be like.

  What people his age were supposed to be doing. The later the time got, the scene changed, and the crowd around the bar that he had decided was the bar was more popular than he first anticipated. Peaks was its name, and he couldn’t really fathom the reason behind it. But it still managed to draw a crowd.

  A line had begun to form around the block, leaving him cursing. Too many people were there, and he hadn’t spotted his target yet. But, once he did, he was sure that his plan of picking her off from this position was becoming more of a bad idea. There were too many witnesses. There was no chance this wouldn’t make the news.

  A splash of shiny blue caught his eye and he adjusted his view. A blonde made her way through the crowd, not bothering with line, and stepped directly up to the door. Her hair spilled around her shoulders and her body looked lithe, sexy.

  She had the build, and when he zoomed in on her features, he was struck with her beauty. A beauty . . . and his target. She fit the description to a tee.

  Unfortunately, she slipped out of sigh
t and into the bar. He lost his opportunity because he had been admiring her too much, like he hadn’t just recently gotten laid. He lowered his binoculars and sighed. “Blue dress.” He shifted behind his rifle and prepared to wait her out. He would still have to go through with it.

  “A few more hours and it will be a done deal,” he murmured as he fit the entrance of the bar in his crosshairs. Then he could go back to entertaining his thoughts of retiring and getting to work on his family, finding a woman he didn’t have to pay to love him.

  Hours passed as he watched the door, waiting for the mark to come back out. The crowd had thinned, and it looked as if his decision to wait had been the best idea. There would be fewer people to see him shoot her. A flash of blonde hair caught his eye and he watched the woman come out.

  The time in his scope told him was just before midnight. His tired nerves put him on edge as he watched her traipse out of the building followed by a man. He found himself hesitating. There was a familiarity there that he couldn’t place. While the dress she wore was something that was sure to draw a man’s eye, something she had succeeded on, it was definite that she wasn’t the type of woman he would normally be familiar with.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in Denver, and he was sure the whore he had spent time with then hadn’t been a blonde. This woman wasn’t a whore or a prostitute.

  He closed his eyes for a beat, pulling away from the scope that sat on top of his rifle. He rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger as he tried to push the desire to sleep back. Fatigue was fucking with his head. Behind his closed eyes, the vision of a pair of large blue eyes that had plagued him since that fateful night tore through his tiredness. He stopped at that, his eyes shooting open, thinking of the email with its description. Blonde, blue eyes, female with a slim athletic build. Age twenty-six. Could it be her? The little girl from Kosovo? Had enough time passed since then?