Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  Let him get his strikes in. She could handle them as she had never been able to before.

  “Because you were fired.” He smiled in gloating satisfaction.

  Bailey gave a low, light laugh. “I quit. Rushmore just felt he should fire me in retaliation. Haven’t you heard? He didn’t like having someone on his team who didn’t believe he had a direct line to God.”

  Raymond’s brow arched curiously at that. She was repeating his own insults concerning Rushmore.

  “Figured that out, did you?” he asked smugly. “I did warn you, Bailey. Rushmore believes he’s above the rest of us. One of these days someone should put him in his place.”

  “Six feet under,” she muttered before directing another tight smile in his direction. “If you’ll excuse me now, Raymond, I need to mingle. We should talk again later, though.”

  She moved away from him but glanced back, giving him the impression that she was considering more than a bullet through his head. She was considering much more.

  Bailey had worked a year to incorporate herself back into the society she had run from so long ago. For twelve months she had lied, schemed and worked herself to the point that she knew Orion’s employer, Warbucks, would contact her soon. He would have to. Only Bailey could supply information he needed now. Information that would lead him to a prize she knew he had all intentions of selling.

  As she greeted her guests and sipped at her champagne, the image of her parents flashed through her mind. Ben and Angelina Serborne had been gracious, enduring. Her mother had smiled with genuine amusement or fondness; her father had had a deep belly laugh that never failed to make others laugh in turn.

  Her father had been a patriot. A man dedicated to his country and its freedoms. It was a dedication she knew had ended in his and her mother’s deaths.

  She should have returned sooner, she thought as she stared around the ballroom, took in the bright colors of the evening dresses, the dark tuxedos. This was Aspen’s winter finest, and mixed with them were six families who were part of a very elite group of powerful men. The richest of the rich. The most powerful. The most corrupt. She should have returned years ago and learned the secrets she was only now beginning to realize. Secrets that would avenge her parents’ deaths.

  There were reasons she had left home at eighteen, and turned her back on a fortune that would take four lifetimes to even put a dent in. She had walked away from her parents and everything she had ever known in her life because of the corruption and deceit she had seen here.

  There were reasons why she was back now. One was to find the man responsible for the death of her parents. The man who had paid an international assassin known as Orion to kill them.

  She couldn’t ask Orion himself; he was dead. Taken out by an unknown group of soldiers or agents and killed in his bed. A shadowy force that didn’t even have a name. The same group that had kidnapped her in Atlanta.

  There were layers upon dark layers here, and she meant to uncover each of them. She would uncover them and learn Warbucks’s identity. When she did, then she would have her revenge. As she hadn’t had on Orion.

  The thought sent a chill up her back as she forced it away from her. She’d walked away from Orion, knowing, even as she fought the knowledge, that she didn’t have a chance of taking him on her own. She would never get the information she needed without returning here. She just hadn’t expected exactly what she had found once she came home.

  “John Vincent. What the hell are you doing in Aspen?”

  Bailey swung around at the male exclamation. Ian Richards and his wife, Kira, were in Colorado for vacation. The ex–Navy SEAL had married one of the nation’s most sought-after heiresses, Kira Porter, giving him entrée into some of the most exclusive parties.

  And there, shaking hands with the burly ex-SEAL, was John Vincent. Every background check she had done on him had shown him as shady in his dealings as well as his business. He was a suspected hardware, information, and arms broker to terrorists and drug cartels. A middleman who ensured a smooth and honest transaction among thieves. With that cover, it was only fitting that he would know Richards, whose father had been one of the most notorious drug cartel rulers alive until he was killed several years before.

  Ian was accepted here because he was a SEAL, because drugs were as prevalent as the champagne that flowed like water, and because his wife was one very rich heiress.

  “It’s been too long, John.” Kira was accepting a kiss on her cheek from lips that Bailey dreamed about much too often. “Where have you been hiding?”

  Bailey watched as John’s head lifted, glimpsed his laughing gray eyes, and ate every detail with her senses. The strong slope of his brow, the bridge of his nose, those kissable lips and broad cheekbones. Sun-bronzed flesh stretched over the broad planes and angles of his face as a dark overnight growth of beard shadowed his jaw.

  He looked like a pirate. Like a man who took what he wanted and laughed at the opposition. He looked like exactly what he was supposed to be. Dangerously charming.

  “Bailey, there you are.” Ian turned his head to her, a smile lighting his handsome features as she moved toward them. “Come meet a friend of mine.”

  Meet a friend of his. Ian had been part of the Atlanta operation, though Bailey had glimpsed him only once or twice in the operation itself. Kira had been there as well, but Bailey had always suspected that the other woman was much more than she had ever presented herself as being. So many layers, and they were all converging here.

  “Ian.” She accepted his hand as she drew closer. “I’m so glad you and Kira could make it tonight.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it.” He grinned as he turned back to John. “I’d like you’d to meet a friend of mine.” The introduction was done smoothly, casually, but Bailey could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising in alarm.

  She was being watched, closely. Someone was much too interested in this meeting.

  “Mr. Vincent.” Her gaze was held by his as he took her hand and brought it smoothly to his lips.

  A chill raced up her spine to explode at the back of her neck as electricity seemed to charge her entire body. She could feel her breasts swelling as his lips touched the sensitive flesh over her knuckles and brushed against them. Her nipples were hard, sensitive, and between her thighs she was growing heated and wet. Her reaction to this man was immediate, blazing and confusing.

  “Miss Serborne,” he murmured as he lowered her hand. “It’s definitely a pleasure to meet you.”

  She bet it was.

  A smile curled her lips as she felt adrenaline pierce the haze of dark emotionlessness that had held her in its grip for too many months now. Suddenly she felt alive, she felt dangerous, she felt a thrill racing through her body that she couldn’t control.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” she assured him, and it was. He was here for a reason, an operation. He was here, and she was laying money on the fact, to interfere in what she had begun just as he and his team had interfered in Atlanta. She was beginning to grow sick of all the noses continually poking into her business.

  She was playing on her home ground now. No one was taking this from her, least of all a man who had already stolen the pleasure of Orion’s death.

  “Ian, you didn’t tell me the scenery here was this exceptional,” John murmured aside to his friend as he kept his gaze on hers. “I would have visited sooner.”

  “The scenery only acquired certain additions recently,” Ian assured him.

  Bailey kept her smile pleasant as she glanced at Ian and his wife. “Ian’s being overly kind,” she stated lightly. “So tell me, Mr. Vincent, are you here for business or pleasure?”

  “Well, I’m a businessman.” He grinned. “I like to combine the two whenever possible, but at the moment it’s definitely pleasure.”

  It was definitely an operation. For a second, regret shimmered inside her before she pushed it back, ignoring it. She was nothing to him, and he was nothing to her, evidently. Sh
e had to remember that; to remember anything else only threatened her control.

  Her suspicions couldn’t be proved, no matter the time and effort she had put into that investigation. It was wishful thinking, she continued to assure herself. She’d lost the man she loved and now she wanted nothing more than to find a way to bring him back when she needed him the most. There was no bringing back the dead.

  “Would you like to dance?” Still retaining her hand, he stepped back from Ian and Kira.

  Bailey allowed him to draw her onto the dance floor, holding her silence until she was in his arms, their bodies moving together to the slow, easy strains of the orchestra.

  “What are you doing here?” She kept her lips against his shoulder to hide the words, her voice low enough that only he could hear her.

  “We need to talk.” He didn’t answer her question, but she hadn’t really expected him to.

  “Too bad,” she drawled. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, even with the clothing that separated them. There was something about him that she couldn’t ignore, couldn’t forget. Something that drew her like a moth to a flame. It was a very dangerous position to be in.

  “Come on, Bailey.” His lips brushed against her ear. “Just a few minutes of your time. I promise, you won’t regret it.” His hand stroked from her hip up, along her back, then back again.

  “I regret meeting you to begin with,” she told him softly, noting the tension that tightened his body. “Why would tonight be any different?”

  His hand tightened at her hip. “You never know, I could surprise you.”

  She almost laughed at that statement. There was no surprise in store for her. The best he could do was manage to amaze her with the delivery of whatever he wanted from her. She had no doubt why he was here.

  “You’re on my turf now,” she warned him. “I doubt there’s anything that you could do here that would surprise me, John.”

  She surprised herself sometimes, though. Now was one of those times. She was amazed at her reaction to him, at the excitement that filled her. He had taken the prize from her hands last time, and he was no doubt determined to do the same thing this time. She should be outraged rather than aroused.

  “It’s important, Bailey,” he told her. “We need to talk, after the party.”

  “After the party I’m going to be incredibly tired.” The song drew to a close as she stepped back from his hold. “Maybe later. Leave your number with the doorman, I’m sure he’ll make certain I get it.”

  He didn’t let her go. Surprising her, he caught her arm, as he drew her from the dance floor and to the wide double doors leading out of the ballroom.

  She had a feeling he wouldn’t let this go so easily.

  “I cannot leave my own party,” she protested with feigned lightness, her temper beginning to burn.

  “Just for a moment, Miss Serborne,” he promised as they passed the wide doors and he headed unerringly to the back of the house.

  Their progress was being noted. The tingling at the base of her spine was building, assuring her that whoever had been watching her for most of the night still had their eyes on her. She’d tried to pinpoint the sensation all evening and had yet to assign it to one particular guest, though she had her suspicions.

  Whoever it was, they were good, better than she would have expected, considering the people she knew she was dealing with. Of course, they had been skating by for years now, they would have grown adept at hiding, she assured herself as John drew her straight to her own personal office.

  The door had been locked earlier, but it wasn’t locked now. Her brows arched as he opened it and drew her inside before closing and locking it.

  “Thank you for making such a spectacle of me.” She rounded him furiously. “You dragged me through my own party like a disobedient pet.”

  “And you were growling at me every step of the way,” he glowered back at her. “What part of We need to talk didn’t you want to understand?”

  “The needing to talk part?” She opened her eyes wide in false amazement. “Did you somehow manage to misunderstand me?”

  She crossed her arms over her breasts as she lifted her brow in curiosity. “You don’t take no for an answer at all well, do you, Mr. Vincent?”

  His lips twitched in amusement. Now, didn’t it just make her day to know she amused him in some small part?

  “I must admit, I have problems with that word,” he finally replied. “Perhaps my mother said it too often when I was a child.”

  She gave a short little snort at that. She doubted any woman had ever told him no.

  “So what was so important that you felt the need to make a spectacle of me at my own party?” she asked coldly. “I hope it’s a matter of life or death, because really, there could be no other excuse for it.”

  His brow lifted. The dark blond color against his sun-bronzed flesh was incredibly alluring. He could have been a fallen angel, too ruggedly handsome for words, and too charming for his own good.

  “You play the part of the society princess very well,” he mused. “I wouldn’t have expected it of you.”

  She gave a little shrug of her bare shoulders. “You could say it’s in the blood,” she retorted mockingly.

  At least, that was what her mother had always assured her. That she had the blood of American royalty running through her veins and she should always remember it. There hadn’t been a single member of her mother’s or her father’s families who hadn’t married well, who hadn’t married into true blood, if not blue blood.

  “It’s easy to forget when you’re trussed up, blindfolded, and gagged,” he murmured with a wealth of amusement now. “The society princess gets pushed behind by the gutter fighter then.” He rubbed at his jaw where she had managed to head-butt him months before in Atlanta.

  “Back any animal into a corner and it’s going to come out biting,” she promised him. “Now, are you going to tell me what the hell you want or do I have to start guessing? I really don’t have time to guess, John.”

  His lips pursed thoughtfully. “You’re still pissed over Atlanta, aren’t you?”

  “And why would I be pissed over Atlanta?” she asked him. “You just kidnapped me and nearly drugged me. You were directly responsible for my release from the agency and you refused to help me in any way while I was there. So what reason would I have to be pissed?”

  John nodded. “As I assumed, you really have no reason not to help me then.” His grin was confident and way too arrogant.

  “And you live in a dream world that I can only envy, big boy. Someone should be kind and awaken you.”

  His eyes narrowed warningly. “We have a situation, Bailey, a very delicate one.”

  Now why didn’t that surprise her?

  “Sucks to be you.” She wasn’t about to admit that she was blazingly curious about his situation. No doubt, knowing him, the men he worked with, and Milburn Rushmore, she could count on the fact that they wanted nothing more than to use her. Forget working with her, or her working with them. It just didn’t happen that way.

  “You like pushing, don’t you?” he asked softly, dangerously.

  “I like wasting my time as well,” she informed him haughtily. “Now why don’t you get the hell out of my way and let me get back to my party? I was rather enjoying it before you decided to intrude.”

  She moved to grip the doorknob and slide the lock open when he shifted, turned—and before she knew it she found herself with her back against the panel, his large body pressing against hers, heating it further.

  A sharp breath exhaled from Bailey’s lungs at the sensation of suddenly being flush against him, almost surrounded by him. It had obviously been too long since a man had touched her, too long since she had felt the warmth and hard thickness of an erection pressing against her, because her senses were rioting with it.

  Bailey felt her knees weakening, her heart racing, her breath coming hard and fast.

  God she wanted him. As thou
gh she knew him, as though suspicion were indeed fact rather than wishful thinking. Maybe she just needed an excuse. Maybe her brain just needed a reason to take what her body was demanding.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispered, her hands pressing against his chest as his head lowered, his lips coming much too close to hers.

  “Don’t kiss you?” His lips quirked with sexy humor and dangerous intent and an oddly familiar playfulness. “Afraid you might change your mind, Bailey?”

  “You like messing with my head,” she accused him. “If you think you can use my body against me, John, then you’d better think again. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Bet me.”

  The hard growl that left his lips was the only warning she had before his lips were covering hers and reality began to recede. Wicked, driving hunger rose to the forefront of her senses, a starving need for touch that she couldn’t fight against, that her body had no desire to reject.

  Need and knowledge warred inside her mind now. The need for this kiss that she couldn’t seem to get enough of, and the knowledge that he was going to do exactly what she had sworn she wasn’t going to allow him to do. He was going to use her body against her. He was going to make her hungrier, he was going to fill her senses with him and sap the strength to fight from her.

  She’d known in that warehouse a year ago that he was dangerous for her. She had known that her best course of action for her sanity and her heart was to stay as far away from him as possible.

  She’d run as far as she could run and here he was, exactly where he shouldn’t be.

  Her arms twined around his neck as his hand gripped her hips, then slowly slid to her thighs while he pressed a knee between them. The hard muscle of his upper leg rode against the mound of her pussy, stroking the swollen bud of her clit as she fought for breath. Her hands speared into the overly long strands of dark blond hair, and she held on for dear life as her hips writhed against his leg.

  The friction against that most sensitive part of her body was overwhelming. Lust clamored inside her brain; the need for release drove sharpened spikes of sensation racing over her nerve endings straight to her sex.