Invisible Recruit (Silhouette Bombshell)

by Mary Buckham

He turned to head back to the path toward town when she stopped him by laying a hand on his arm.

  “What happens now?” she asked, bracing herself for his answer.

  “We use the situation to our advantage.”

  “You mean use what you think is Blade’s attraction to me as the bait to get us into the auction.”

  “Isn’t that what I said?”

  She bit her lower lip before continuing; she had to make clear to him where she was coming from. “You’re wrong, you know.”

  “About?”

  “About my being a wind junkie. That’s not my trigger.”

  “I said that’s what Golumokoff thinks. Not me.” He turned to leave again, but paused. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Your father is putting pressure on Ling Mai. He wants you out of this op as much as I do. It’d behoove you to not screw up.”

  He strode away, while she remained, simmering with anger.

  He was very good at that. Dropping bombs and walking away. On the other hand, it looked like they were making progress. He’d called Blade by his name, not boyfriend.

  “You’re reaching for reassurances,” she whispered to a monkey staring at her from a stone wall three feet away.

  The only answer she received was a solemn stare.

  Chapter 12

  She’d agreed to meet Stone on the terrace later that evening. The night sky was filled with stars, and lighted paper lanterns dotted the shadows.

  Tonight she was not planning on being invisible. Tonight Vaughn was on her own mission—to prove to herself she had what it took to be a field agent, regardless of what anyone else thought. And to do that she needed to get the information from Blade about the item or items to be auctioned, or receive an invite to the auction. And she’d be doing it her way.

  To accomplish less would mean the end of what she’d barely started. With her father pulling strings and putting pressure on Ling Mai to remove Vaughn from the team, time was of the essence. If Vaughn could not find out what was being auctioned, but did get herself and Stone included in the group moving on to Brighton Hall in the morning, it would be enough. Once they were at Brighton Hall, her father would not be able to stop the mission. And once they were at Brighton Hall, Vaughn could pinpoint the secrets behind this particular auction.

  Her father wanted her to pull out now. Stone would be happy if she retrieved as much intel as she could tonight and then let him follow up on it. Ling Mai was probably expecting a little more from Vaughn, but not much.

  It was time to show them all that Vaughn had her own agenda and was quite capable of accomplishing it.

  Showtime!

  She smoothed damp palms along the front of her dress and paused at the open doorway between the hotel and the main verandah.

  Stone should be waiting somewhere on the shadowed grounds before her, dotted with guests catching the evening coolness. It was the best place to find Blade, too. Though it was because of the first man and not the second that she had chosen this dress.

  Another from her personal closet, one she’d bought on a whim sometime ago but never dared to wear. Until now.

  It was a Donna Karan. Blood red. Plunging neckline. Cinched swatches of fabric draped across her waist, sweeping the ground even though she was wearing four-inch heels. Sensuous movement with every breath, though her breasts were thrust up and out in a way that made breathing a luxury.

  There was nothing soft and silky about this dress, or the way she wore it. It screamed sex. Purred seduction. Promised heaven on the road to hell.

  If she was going to be a lure, she might as well act like one. The mission was to extract intel, but she was going to proceed her way—not Stone’s way.

  She kept her hair down, thick and as dark as the velvet sky. It curled with the humidity yet still hung below her shoulders. She’d smudged her eye makeup, chosen glossy, sin red lipstick and, just to make sure, she’d wet her lips.

  Stone, eat your heart out.

  Wait. That was supposed to be Blade. Blade was the target. The one meant to fall hard and fast.

  Keep focused, chiquita.

  She inhaled all the way to her toes before stepping outside, aware of the stares of the other hotel patrons, the attention, the whispers.

  With each step she took, she heard the swish of real silk stockings, the rasp of a garter along her inner thigh, thrummed with the cadence of her accelerating pulse.

  For Blade. For Blade.

  Make him want. Dare him. Let him know what he’d missed before and could get now, if he played the game.

  Her game—her way.

  But it was Stone’s gaze locking with hers. Only his she heeded as she neared where he stood.

  “How am I doing?” She kept her own gaze straight ahead as she brushed against his sleeve.

  “I said lure, not lust.”

  Two days ago, she’d have heard a put-down. Tonight she heard only the growl. A low, primordial male sound heating her blood.

  “I thought you wanted this wrapped up by the end of the night?” She raised one eyebrow as she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and returned his shy smile while glancing around for Blade.

  “I hope the hell you know what you’re doing.” Stone’s voice rasped against her nerves, whispering across her skin, as heat saturated the night air.

  “I don’t have to.” She took a slow sip, tasting nothing, glancing at him over the rim of her glass. “That’s what you’re here for. Bait doesn’t need to think.”

  His gaze darkened.

  Heat lightning crackled on the horizon. Some looked up, but not her. Stone’s gaze caught her as a firefly to the nearest light. The flicker of a candle from a nearby table cast angry shadows along the lines of his face.

  If she was seduction tonight, he was temptation, and he did nothing more than look.

  Was this how Eve fell? Satan smiled and she tumbled?

  “Vaughn.”

  Her name being called from nearby broke the spell. Stone glanced away first, which gave her a second to gather her wits.

  Games within games, and it’d pay her well to remember who were the pros.

  “You look stunning,” Blade said upon reaching her side.

  She turned to smile at him, a smile she ratcheted up when she noted the hunger in his gaze.

  Feeding time.

  “Thank you.” There was no need to say more.

  “May I steal you for a moment?” Blade spoke not to her but to Stone. “If your husband approves.”

  For a moment, Stone’s refusal hung in the balance, mirrored in the muscles of his face, the tension radiating from his stance, the flare of his nostrils.

  Don’t blow it, rock man.

  “Sure, why not.” His answer was accompanied by a shrug, an Academy Award–winning performance.

  She shifted, making sure all her attention was focused on Blade now. Laying one hand on his sleeve, she lowered her voice, slowed its pace, nearly impossible with Stone listening and watching over her shoulder, waiting for her to push too far, to screw up.

  But this was her world now, her abilities called to the fore, her experience in talking, laughing, wordplay with powerful, commanding men.

  “Are you going to show me something interesting?” she purred.

  Russian eyes narrowed and his hand slid over hers as he moved her deeper into the shadows before stopping. Not enough to trigger a woman’s internal alarms, but enough to ensure privacy. His bodyguards hung back. Was it prearranged or were they astute?

  “I believe you are wasted on your importer-exporter, my dear.” Blade kept his tone light, the pressure of his hand heavy.

  She laughed, a low bubbling sound. “I told you, M.T. has his uses.”

  “Like slapping your family’s very public face?”

  The question reminded her that this might be a game, but the players were very, very real. And possibly lethal.

  “There, there, I see I have been crude,” Blade crooned w
hen she couldn’t answer past the tightening of her throat. “It is wrong of me to, how you say, poke the fun?”

  Play the game, Vaughn.

  “It is naughty of you.”

  “Then I shall be naughty.”

  He could mean many things by his comment, none of them good, except Vaughn caught where his gaze rested, over her shoulder. On Stone.

  “Did you wish to tell me something, Blade?” She heard the bite in her tone. So she wasn’t as good a poker player as these two men, both able to check and hold their emotions as the stakes were raised.

  Blade’s smile told her he sensed her pique, if not the reason for it.

  “I have been thinking about you today, Vaughn.”

  “Oh?”

  “It has been too long since you have joined me and other members of the Attainment Club.”

  He waited a beat, eyeing her response.

  Let him wait. Stone was right about this. Rushing her interest might scare off the prey.

  “The club?” she asked, breaking the silence between them.

  “You have forgotten so soon? I am surprised. Were our little auctions so unmemorable?”

  “It is not that I have forgotten.” Reel him in slowly. “It’s just that I rarely choose to go backward, playing the games of childhood again.”

  “You no longer like the thrill?”

  “Thrills change over the years, Blade. You of all people should know this.”

  “True. Very true.”

  Ouch. She read it in the tensing of his features, the curl of his hand upon her arm. There’d be bruises there tomorrow.

  “You do not give me credit for increasing the stakes?” His breathing deepened.

  She leaned forward, using her body to feign interest. “In what ways?”

  “I, too, grew bored with the same old items.”

  “So?”

  “So times have changed. I have changed. What is available for sale has changed.”

  Vaughn hoped Stone could hear every word through the watch transmitter she wore, a Bugatti style, not that cheap, commercial brand the tech group had designed.

  Her game, her way.

  “You are not very clear, Blade.” She kept her words low. Whispered and intrigued. “What exactly are you saying?”

  He bit, but only a little. “Mystery is its own seduction, my dear.” He stepped closer and, with the hand not beneath his, she gripped her drink harder.

  “Meaning?”

  His laugh sent a wave of ice slithering down her spine.

  “You are interested?” he asked.

  “I might be.”

  “And your new husband?” Blade glanced toward the open grounds. “What of him?”

  “What of him?” She offered a non-committal shrug.

  “Is he to be trusted?”

  “Not with your money or your wife, but with information, I’d say yes. If it is worth his while.”

  Blade’s eyes narrowed. Obviously he’d come to a similar conclusion.

  “He has the funds to play?”

  Vaughn let her laugh ripple slowly before replying. “It is not funds that’s the issue with M.T. He must be interested enough to play.”

  “And what interests your husband?”

  She paused, as if debating how much to reveal. “Power. Ownership. Control.” She sipped her drink and smiled. “Having what no one else can have.”

  That should cover all the bases, and sound enough like Blade to make her point.

  “Then I believe he may be interested in this auction.”

  “Oh?”

  “But it is not for the fainthearted.”

  Finally, something she could speak to from experience. “M.T. is not fainthearted.”

  “This is good. You will come then?”

  “I still don’t know what you will be auctioning.”

  Would getting the intel be enough? Would the mission be over if she did?

  “Be my guest at Brighton Hall and you will find out.”

  She could almost hear Stone’s voice. Slowly. Don’t push him too far too fast. Don’t overstep.

  “And how shall I convince M.T.? He is already becoming bored with India. Until the monsoons come, this heat grows oppressive.”

  “He will not notice the heat higher in the hills.”

  “True.” She shook her head. “For me, Blade, I would love to come. Just like old times. But I don’t know about M.T.”

  “Then you must convince him. Believe me, it will be worth his time. Worth both your time.” He stepped closer, leaning forward to brush a kiss across her temple. “We will start where we should never have stopped before.”

  Truth or dare? And why was it so hard to figure which side of the fence she’d land on? This was Blade. She owed him. But how far would she go to cancel her debt?

  “Blade?” Her tone turned serious. “You know I’m your friend.”

  “Of course. Is this not what we’re talking about?” His voice still flirted.

  “I want you to know that you’re important to me.” Or had been, a small voice added.

  But Blade wasn’t interested in hearing about friendship. Not as he stepped closer, brushing against her. Funny. She didn’t flinch as she would have had it been Stone.

  “I want you to come tomorrow, Vaughn. Make it happen.”

  Russian czar to peasant.

  Fine. Think about the mission. Not about Stone or Blade or friendships. Mission only.

  She smiled; in the shadows, he would never be able to tell it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll talk to M.T., but he has no need of trinkets.” Watching the furrows deepen in Blade’s face, she added, “His words, not mine.”

  “I will not be offering trinkets.”

  “Can you not give me any more clues of what you will be offering?”

  “Power, my dear. Life and death over hundreds of thousands. More, if one chooses.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped. Was this what an MI6 agent had died for? What could possibly offer such power? And what the hell was Blade involved in?

  She moistened her lips. “That’s a big promise, Blade.”

  “And one I’m able to supply. For the right incentive.”

  “Vaughn?”

  It was Stone’s voice, and it had never sounded so sweet.

  Blade leaned closer to her, his breath brushing her ear. “Speak to your husband. I look forward to your arrival at Brighton Hall tomorrow.”

  He left then, nodding to Stone as they passed each other.

  “You all right?” Stone asked after he made sure they were alone.

  “Yes.” Be a professional. Professionals don’t get spooked by words in the dark. “Did you hear everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t like the sound of things.”

  “I agree.” The shiver she’d repressed earlier snaked through her. “So we go to Brighton Hall and find out what’s being auctioned?”

  “Unless you have a better way of getting the intel.”

  “No.”

  He looked past her to where Blade had disappeared into the hotel.

  “Then we go to Brighton Hall.”

  The good news—the mission was on. The bad news—the mission was on.

  Hadn’t she learned years ago to be careful what she wished for?

  Sometimes wishes became real.

  Chapter 13

  “Quite an illustrious group.” Stone’s voice was hushed, washed over by the sounds of arriving guests as they stood in the cavernous lobby of the Brighton Hall resort. They had not seen Blade since Vaughn’s conversation the previous evening, but their host had been busy.

  Kelly had confirmed that Stone’s assumed identity had been researched, very thoroughly, over the past two days. And both Vaughn and Stone recognized the cameras monitoring all guest arrivals. A camera with a telltale addition allowing usage of facial recognition software. Very subtle. Very effective.

  Vaughn kept her attention on the incoming guests, w
atching body language, memorizing who arrived with whom, a skill she’d learned at her mother’s side during years of ambassadorial duties. Her father often joked that his wife intuitively knew more of what was happening around them than his security people did, and he was right.

  Vaughn once asked her mother if that bothered her, her skills being used but never officially acknowledged. The look Vaughn received in return was pure don’t-be-ridiculous. Vaughn’s mother had been raised to be decorative, functional and invisible, skills Vaughn now mimicked even as she shielded her real intentions behind them.

  “So what now?” Vaughn pitched her voice low as a precaution, though no other guest was near enough to hear.

  Stone sidled up closer before answering. “Whatever Golumokoff is auctioning, it’s attracting a very interesting crowd.”

  Damn, he smelled good.

  Keep focused on the mission. The mission. The mission.

  “Meaning?”

  “Do you recognize any of his guests? Anyone from your set?”

  “No.” She ignored the words her set. “They are not the usual bored and jaded crowd. There’s something different about these people.”

  “Soulless.”

  She glanced at him, stunned at the word, aware of how right on target it was.

  “Good call,” she murmured. “What are the implications?”

  He nodded toward a tight-knit group of gentlemen and one woman just crossing the teak-walled foyer.

  “Newest group is from mainland China. Involved in the suppression at Tiananmen Square a few years ago. The elderly gentleman who arrived earlier, Sun Yen from Taiwan, has been involved with nearly every large-scale arms brokering coming out of Southeast Asia since the seventies. There’s also a certain oil-gorged sheikh with strong political leanings and Seamus O’Reilly, a member of the IRA with a very colorful and long-documented past.”

  “That’s not soulless.” Her breath hitched and held. “That’s a tinderbox waiting for a match.”

  He offered a weary smile. “Your friend likes to play with a motley crew.”

  This so did not seem like her Blade. What was the man involved with and why? She continued to scan the crowd. “There are very few women.”

  “You noticed.”

  What did he think she was, a total idiot? On second thought, this was Stone.