Bite me! She scrambled to her feet, never taking her focus off Noah. If she subdued him, she had the advantage. Noah was the boss. The guards had to obey his orders.
When he grabbed her, she rolled backward, using his momentum to throw him off-balance. Regaining her feet, she thrust out her injured left leg as an obstacle. He tripped and fell to the ground. Avoiding his grasp, she went down on her knees behind him where she got him in a chokehold, pulled her knife and held it in front of his dark eyes.
He flicked the tip of the rubber blade. “I’ve got one thing to say.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re hired.”
The bodyguards, including those she had supposedly killed, swarmed into the home gym, applauding and hooting their approval. She counted five men and one woman—the non-threatening redhead who had been carrying a stack of folded sheets.
Noah pushed her rubber knife out of the way and stood. “How did you like our Rocky Mountain version of Hogan’s Alley?”
Though she’d trained at Quantico, Gennie had never gone through the original Hogan’s Alley—a famed FBI simulator exercise where actors and other agents took on the roles of villains and innocent bystanders. But she’d played the video game where thugs popped out from behind bushes and a nanny with a baby carriage was in the mix.
“To tell the truth,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting this kind of workout at my first job interview for ARC Security.”
“That’s the point. If you decide to join us, you need to be ready for action at any time and in any circumstance.”
He took her hand and helped her to her feet in a gesture that might have been designed to make her think he was a gentleman. Most definitely, he was not. The fire in his eyes told her that Noah had enjoyed their hand-to-hand combat. He was competitive, and she had no doubt that if he’d thwarted her assault, he would have relished the victory.
She straightened her shoulders, pulled the scarf off her neck and ran her fingers through her chin-length blond hair in a futile attempt at grooming. Technically, he’d said that she was hired but she wouldn’t feel comfortable until she signed a contract. Her confidence had taken a hit when she’d belly flopped into the dirt outside the house and ruined her silk blouse. Her injured ankle was another problem.
The fake guards surrounded her, offering congratulations and words of welcome. The lone woman among them had taken off her pink housemaid’s smock. Her sleeveless top showed tanned well-toned arms. With that level of fitness, she was probably a field agent, and Gennie was glad. For much of her life, she’d been in situations where women weren’t an equal part of the equation. From military engineering courses at Texas A&M to boot camp to two and a half tours of duty, she seemed to be always proving herself against a male standard.
The ARC crew seemed friendly, especially the guards she’d “killed” with her rubber knife and paintball gun. A handsome guy with a killer smile introduced himself as Tony Vega. “I’m the thug you knifed in the entryway. How’d you get inside so fast?”
“Picked the lock.”
“Nice move.” When he bobbed his head, he reminded Gennie of her younger brother. “You got skills.”
“But I failed the mission,” she said. “I didn’t rescue the hostage.”
“Because there was no hostage,” Tony said.
Noah explained, “This scenario was an ambush, designed to capture you. The information we gave you hinted that you couldn’t trust your own people. When I attacked, your instincts kicked in. You overwhelmed me but didn’t kill me. Smart move. You could use me as a bargaining chip when my men came into the room.”
“Is this the usual exercise?” she asked.
“We change it every time,” the woman said. “Otherwise, we’d get bored.”
“And we’re all grateful,” Tony added, “that you went upstairs instead of charging into the kitchen and messing up the barbecue we’ve got planned. Hungry?”
Noah interrupted. “The rest of you go downstairs. I’ve got some paperwork for Gennie.”
Smiling, she watched them leave. Their friendly camaraderie reminded her of her platoon in Afghanistan, which was what she’d expected when she applied at ARC Security, also known as Noah’s ARC. They mostly hired ex-military personnel and had a stellar reputation as bodyguards, crime solvers and bounty hunters, as well as the original ARC Security Division that dealt with computers and cyber-crime.
“Come with me,” Noah said.
She followed him down the hall, walking carefully on her injured ankle. He held open the door to the first room on the landing where she had encountered a guard. The space was furnished with bookshelves, cabinets, a desk and several computer screens.
“An office,” she said.
“This is actually my house,” he explained. “The location is convenient, less than an hour out of Denver. When I’m in town, I have a condo.”
“You don’t mind messing up this house playing war games with paintball splatter?”
“Bachelor,” he said as if that explained everything. He gestured to a long sofa at the base of the bookcases. “I have a few questions for you.”
Gingerly, she lowered herself onto the clean-line sofa. “I’m still hired, right?”
“I want you working for us. As soon as I saw your résumé, I knew you had the right stuff. You worked security in Kabul in Afghanistan, is that right?”
“Only occasionally,” she said. There were times when they’d wanted a woman as a bodyguard, and she’d been available. “Between my tours of duty, I trained at Quantico.”
“You have contacts in the FBI and the army,” he said. “That’s a plus. Several of our contracts are with the military and government officials. You’ll fit well into ARC. There’s only one formality left. You need to take a physical.”
She’d been dreading this moment. “I can provide a document from my private doctor saying that I’m fit for duty.”
“Tell me why you left the army, Gennie.”
“I was a captain in Afghanistan, working with the Army Corps of Engineers. We were constructing a school in a remote village when we accidentally set off an explosive device.” Though she’d told this story a hundred times, the words still triggered a rage deep inside. Her work crew had been betrayed. They never found out who was responsible for the bomb, but she blamed herself. She should have known better, should have made smarter decisions. Because she’d been careless, four friends had been killed in that explosion. And she would never stop being angry. “I was injured and evacuated.”
Noah handed her a bottle of water from a mini-fridge beside the desk. “Do you know a former security contractor named Kenneth Warrick?”
“Yes.” Hoping that he’d drop the subject, she took a long drink from the water bottle.
But Noah wasn’t the sort of guy who gave up easily. “Tell me about him.”
“A private contractor and weapons dealer, he was questioned regarding the explosion that killed my team. More than anyone else, he knew our schedule and our plans. I hate to think that he betrayed my crew.”
“He wasn’t charged.”
And it wasn’t the first time that Warrick smooth talked his way out of trouble. “The investigation concluded that a local warlord was responsible.”
“You and Warrick were close.”
So close that they’d discussed marriage. She would never allow herself to be that vulnerable again. “I was stupid.”
He lowered himself into the chair beside the sofa. His gaze dropped, and he stared at her feet. Though she tried not to look down, she glanced. Her slacks were hiked up, and she could see her discolored ankle. The swollen flesh bulged over the top strap of her sandal.
“One of the guys downstairs is a medic,” Noah said. “He could take a look at your injury.”
“It’s only a sprain.”
“How do you kn
ow?”
She’d had enough broken bones to know when she had one. “I’ve been putting weight on my leg and it hasn’t buckled. If I get the injury iced and wrapped with a bandage, I’ll be fine.”
“I have an assignment for you on Saturday,” he said. “If you’re not one hundred percent by then, I need to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I want the rest of your story. Three years ago, you were injured in Afghanistan. According to the medical report, you had several broken bones and a concussion.”
“That’s correct.”
“I don’t need to know the medical procedures you’ve undergone, but I want the results. You have a disability.”
Due to the concussion, damaged bones, a hematoma and extensive nerve damage, her left upper arm and certain muscles in both legs were numb. Ongoing programs of therapy and workouts had improved her condition. She passed her fitness tests with high marks, but there was one problem...not a problem, really, an anomaly.
She lifted her chin and confronted him directly. “In about thirty percent of my body, I can’t feel pain.”
Copyright © 2020 by Kay Bergstrom
Love Harlequin romance?
DISCOVER.
Be the first to find out about promotions, news and exclusive content!
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Instagram.com/HarlequinBooks
Pinterest.com/HarlequinBooks
ReaderService.com
EXPLORE.
Sign up for the Harlequin e-newsletter and download a free book from any series at
TryHarlequin.com
CONNECT.
Join our Harlequin community to share your thoughts and connect with other romance readers!
Facebook.com/groups/HarlequinConnection
ISBN: 9781488067198
Her Assassin For Hire
Copyright © 2020 by Danica Winters
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at [email protected].
Harlequin Enterprises ULC
22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor
Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
www.Harlequin.com
Her Assassin For Hire (Stealth Series Book 3) Page 19
