Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  Bailey leaned forward. “He killed my family. My cousins suffered at his hands. There was no amount of money that could have made me turn back. And evidently it wasn’t too large a price to pay or Warbucks would have made the request that I back off.”

  “And would you have?” Raymond asked.

  “Probably not. It would have been according to how strenuously he had asked.” She lifted her glass to her lips and took a fortifying sip as he grinned back at her in amusement.

  “That’s rather what we assumed.” He finally nodded. “Your past endeavors to protect him have always surprised him. Because of this, he’s decided that perhaps you would make a worthy partner.”

  A worthy partner? Oh now, this was much more than she had ever hoped.

  “He’s looking for partners, is he?” Bailey let her surprise show, to do otherwise wouldn’t have been in her best interests.

  “Not just any partner,” he assured her. “You have contacts, Bailey, many that I can only guess at, you’ve proven that over the years. But even more, you’re his equal in ways that no one else could hope to be or to become.”

  “Is he looking for a partner or a wife?” she sniffed.

  Raymond laughed, a low dark chuckle that sent a chill racing up her spine. “He’s not in the market for a wife, my dear, though you’d make an excellent one. What he is in the market for are your invaluable services in several endeavors he’d like to undertake in the future. Your help with this one in particular is greatly appreciated.”

  Bailey sipped at the whisky again before setting her glass on the table. “No broker that he’s contacted is going to take CROSSFIRE without a meeting first,” she finally assured him. “Warbucks has so far managed to keep his identity a closely guarded secret. The days of that are at an end if he’s not extremely careful this time.”

  Raymond nodded. “We’ve discussed this at length, which is one of the reasons we’ve given the choice of brokers into your safekeeping. You know the risks he’ll be facing as well as the brokers most likely to secure the job and to secure it correctly. We ask that though it seems you have chosen a worthy lover, that you give due consideration to the other parties as well.”

  Bailey stared back at him, knowing how she appeared to him. Her gaze was flat and cool, assessing.

  “It would have helped if I had known that I would be choosing from the parties concerned before they arrived,” she stated.

  Raymond tilted his head in agreement. “But in doing so we would have lost the element of surprise as well as our own strength in assessing your true intentions.”

  “In other words, you had everything in place to see if I went screaming back to the agency.” She gave a light, amused little laugh. “Tell me, Raymond, did you ever regret your choice to work with Warbucks?”

  “Never.” His response was instant.

  “Then I suspect, neither will I.” She lifted her glass, finished her drink, then stared back at him questioningly. “Do we have any other business to conduct?”

  Raymond arched his brows, his lips tugged into a reluctant smile.

  “Very well, then, we’ll discuss fees,” she suggested. “The brokers you’ve chosen all charge a fifteen percent rate of the total sale. Though I’m certain a few will go a few points lower, Vincent won’t. I wouldn’t suggest using anyone willing to take a cut on their pay at this point.”

  “And your fee?” he asked.

  “Partners don’t charge a fee.” She rose to her feet and stared down at him with the assured self confidence and feminine arrogance she had learned before leaving this world. “I expect to see Warbucks at the point of sale. I don’t partner with men, or with women, that I don’t know or can’t put a face to.”

  A gleam of amused respect seemed to lighten his gaze. “I’ll be certain to pass that along.”

  “Do that.” She nodded. “Because it’s non-negotiable. And I’ll need his answer before the process goes much further. By the way, I’d drop Stanford if I were you.”

  “And why would I do that?” he asked, his gaze narrowing.

  “Because he’s an informant to several individuals within certain law enforcement agencies, namely the FBI, when the price is right. And I would assume they would pay quite a hefty price for information on this sale. Discretion is called for at this time, I believe. I’d mark him off your list and send him home.”

  “We could kill him,” he suggested.

  “We could.” She lifted her shoulder in complete unconcern. “But his death would raise questions. Better to wait until after the sale to do that. In the meantime I’d place a tail on him and see if he runs his mouth. It’s always better to know who to watch out for than it is to kill the competition.”

  He rose slowly to his feet, a smile once again tugging at his lips. “I’ll be sure to bring the matter to Warbucks’s attention. Until then, enjoy the party tonight. I’m sure I’ll be in touch again soon.”

  “I look forward to it.” She nodded briskly before turning and moving for the door.

  Unlocking the door, she left the room without looking back, the sense of watchful eyes raising the hairs on the nape of her neck.

  She was being watched, and not just by Raymond. Someone had been listening in, looking in on that meeting. She had been dissected, every word, every expression, every shift of her body analyzed.

  Warbucks had made his move and she had stated her conditions. Now, she hoped he accepted them, rather than having her killed as he did others who had had the temerity to make demands he didn’t like.

  Entering the hallway, she watched as John straightened from the wall, his arms falling from their crossed position against his chest. Eyes narrowed, his taut body filled with tension, he watched as she made her way to him.

  “Mary okay?” he asked as his arm curled around her waist and they headed back into the foyer.

  “Mary’s fine.” She felt the subtle shift of his body, the silent sign that he knew she wasn’t merely talking about Raymond’s wife. “You?” she asked. “Are Ian and Kira okay for lunch tomorrow?”

  “They appreciate the invitation,” he told her. “Ian has a bit of business he wanted to discuss anyway.”

  She certainly hoped so. After tonight, both John and Ian were going to come across with information, details and plans. She was not going to be kept in the dark at this stage of the game. Warbucks wasn’t just testing her, he was seriously considering a partnership, which meant the stakes had risen in this little game.

  “Good.” She nodded thoughtfully, glancing around and wondering once again who was watching, who was listening.

  “Are we ready to leave this little get-together yet?” John lowered his head to caress the shell of her ear sensually. “There’s a light snow falling, a full moon. We could have the chauffeur drive us around for a while.”

  In other words they could discuss whatever had happened in her meeting with Raymond.

  “That sounds nice.” She turned her head, lifting it, and smiled as his lips settled on hers for a light, affectionate kiss. “Shall we say goodnight to our host?”

  “Definitely.”

  Their host, Ford Grace, was thankfully just entering the marble foyer from the ballroom. John made their apologies with a thoroughly unapologetic male grin that he wanted to enjoy Bailey on a long romantic ride in the snow.

  Bidding them a goodnight, he turned back to the couple who had followed him out as John collected her cloak and settled it over her shoulders.

  The doorman opened the wide double doors, and to Bailey’s delight, the snowfall was just as beautiful as John had proclaimed it. Large fluffy flakes fell in a slow-motion drift that gave an airy, gentle feel to the air around her. Lifting the hood of her cloak, she held on to John’s arm as they stepped from the house, lifting her face to allow the cool weight of the ice crystals to melt against her flesh.

  She needed the sense of innocence, of unhurried beauty that came with the night and the snow around them.

  “It’s beautifu
l,” she whispered as her head lowered and her gaze was momentarily blinded.

  Blinking, a sudden knowledge shattered into her brain at the same time as a red laser dot settled on her chest. Slow motion. She could feel every heartbeat as she cried out, pushing John aside at the same time that the blast of a rifle shattered the stillness of the night.

  She felt him dragging her down, pushing her to the icy, snow-covered stones of the steps. Her hands slid across the surface, a burning sensation covering the tender flesh as the world around her seemed to erupt with sound.

  Another sharp retort of gunfire shattered the night as screams filled the air. Other screams, feminine cries, and male shouts as John jerked her across the steps to the relative safety at the side of the limo.

  “Stay here,” he yelled at her as the chauffeur slid around the vehicle and shoved a lethal, black MPA Defender at John.

  “Like hell.” She grabbed at his arm as he moved to jump from her side. “You’re not going anywhere. They’ll be after you as well. Let Ford’s men take care of it.”

  Those men were moving around the house now. Black-clad, faces impassive and dangerous, they tore across the yard toward the woods where the blasts had come from.

  “Get her back in here.” Raymond was suddenly at their sides, his expression furious as he grabbed John’s arm. “She’s safer in the house.”

  With the two men flanking her, she felt John’s arm curl around her waist again, lifting her as he pulled her back up the steps and into the house.

  They didn’t pause. Leading the way, Raymond rushed them through the foyer and back through the hall to the small office he had taken Bailey to earlier.

  Once the door was closed and locked behind them, John set her on her feet, and for the first time she caught a glimpse of his furious face. His eyes were like thunderclouds, his face set into a dangerous scowl as he turned on Raymond.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” he snarled in Raymond’s face.

  Raymond, surprisingly, seemed to have paled. Concern marked his expression as his gaze roved quickly over her.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped, glaring back at him as he moved back marginally. “Damn. You two act like I’ve never been shot at before.”

  “Not here, not like this.” Raymond shook his head in a quick, jerky motion. “You should have never been targeted.”

  “Well, she was,” John snapped. “And I want to know why. Now, Raymond.”

  “We’ll know why.” Raymond stepped back as his cell phone rang. Jerking it from the pocket of his jacket, he flipped it open before pressing it to his ear and turning his back on them.

  “She’s fine,” he said quickly. “I have her secure. Have they found the shooter yet?”

  Bailey glanced at John as they listened to the conversation.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know who it is?” he snapped suddenly. “My best guess would be one of the competitors. I warned you they wouldn’t take kindly to losing out on the deal so quickly … Fine. I’ll take care of it … Just let me know.”

  He disconnected the call before turning back to them.

  “Professional brokers don’t attempt assassination because they lost out on a deal,” John snapped, his gaze thunderous as he rose to his feet, glowering back at Raymond. “If anything happens to her, Greer, you can bet your ass that the loss of reputation that your employer will suffer won’t be easily regained. I’ll make certain of it.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Vincent,” Raymond warned him, his voice deepening in anger. “This is a risk you take when you play the game. She knows it as well as you do.”

  “Like hell.” John was in his face as Bailey rose to her feet.

  She almost rolled her eyes at the testosterone filling the room as well as the male posturing going on here. As though they thought yelling at each other would actually solve the problem here.

  “John, enough.” Bailey stepped between them before the confrontation could actually turn to blows. “Raymond.” She turned to the other man. “Check Ralph Stanford’s whereabouts. If he’s in the mansion, then have your men question if he was here during the time of the shooting. I would bet he’s your shooter.”

  Both men turned to her now.

  “What the hell makes you think it was Stanford?” Raymond snarled.

  She did roll her eyes at that. “You should check the reputations of the men you’re considering.” She shook her head. “Stanford doesn’t like games of competition. He’s prone to even the playing field with a bullet whenever possible.”

  “He was warned,” Raymond growled.

  “Perhaps not strenuously enough,” she pointed out as she turned back to John. “Please inform the chauffeur that we’re heading out, again. I’m not standing around here and waiting for the bloody little show sure to be played out if they actually manage to catch him.”

  “You’re as stubborn and hardheaded as ever,” Raymond accused her as she and John headed to the door.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Raymond, and please inform your boss that I haven’t left happy tonight. He owes me.”

  CHAPTER 10

  BAILEY LAY STILL AND SILENT in the bed when John entered the bedroom. She watched him, her gaze devouring him as he stood at the foot of the bed and stared back at her. There was a darkness to his expression that didn’t make sense, a heavy brooding silence that surrounded him.

  As though he was holding back some part of himself, unwilling to allow her to see it, or to see the implications of it.

  He had been quiet since leaving the party. His entire demeanor had shifted, turning dark and dangerous in the wake of the attempt on her life.

  “Did you call your buddies and inform them of tonight’s events?” she asked him, careful to keep her tone casual.

  “Not yet.” There was a growl in his voice, an underlying tone of warning that she was certain she was going to ignore. As she watched him, her heart clenched, emotion welling inside her as she fought to hold back years’ worth of grief and loneliness.

  Staring at John now, the pieces of the puzzle that had been laid into place clicked. There was no suspicion, no coincidence. She knew. With the heart of a woman who had only loved once in her life, Bailey knew who her lover was, and she knew he would never reveal himself to her.

  So many years alone. She remembered those first weeks after he had “died.” She had existed in a place of such dark grief that she hadn’t known if she could pull herself out of it. She had only just recovered from her parents’ deaths. Hell, she hadn’t even recovered, but Trent had helped her to focus, he had helped her to live again. Then he was gone.

  And now he was back.

  She had to blink back the tears at the feeling of betrayal, even as she wondered if she wouldn’t have done the same. When he had informed her that Warbucks had been behind Trent’s death, he had been telling her why he had left.

  He’d had no choice. Warbucks wouldn’t have rested until he was dead. There would have been no safety for him, no way for him to escape the powerful reach of the criminal whom no one could identify and therefore no one could watch or catch.

  And Trent alone wouldn’t have been in danger. Anyone he loved, anyone who could have been used as a weakness against him would have been in danger.

  “Ralph Stanford was in the ballroom at the time of the shooting,” he told her as he paused at the bottom of the bed. “Greer is still searching for him, but I’d say we’ve lost the trail for tonight.”

  “Whoever it is will try again,” she stated. “There’s a lot of money hiding in this deal. They won’t like losing out so quickly.”

  The house party would pull the players into place. Whoever or whatever Warbucks was trying to maneuver, this would allow him to place everyone in a controlled area where he could watch and wait.

  “Last year, Raymond Greer hosted this same party at the same time. It coincided with the sell of a list of agents working a delicate operation in Europe. Two
weeks later, those agents were dead,” he told her.

  “Operation Seascape,” she murmured. “The agents were in place to watch and track a terrorist cell that was using England’s coast to smuggle in people, supplies, and weapons. They were waiting for the arrival of one of the organization’s leading generals when that list was sold.”

  John nodded. “The general made it into England, and he was lost after that. He’s still on the move rather than neutralized as he should have been.”

  It wasn’t the subject that was truly on both their minds. Bailey could feel the tension, the emotions that swirled in the air around them, that infused them, that burned inside her chest with the force of a wildfire.

  Tears threatened to fall as her heart actually ached with the knowledge of everything she had lost, everything she couldn’t have. She wanted to be in his arms, she ached to feel him against her, and yet a part of her refused to bend or to ask for what she needed most.

  “I’m going to shower.” He moved away from the bed and turned toward the bathroom. “We can talk later.”

  Later. There was always later.

  She watched as he disappeared into the other room, noting the stress in his voice, in his shoulders. There were still so many things that she didn’t know about him, that she hadn’t known about him five years before.

  They’d had so little time together. Not nearly enough time to know everything they needed to know about each other.

  She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling as she heard the water in the shower turn on. She imagined him stepping beneath the spray, water pouring over his body.

  She didn’t want to imagine.

  Flipping the blankets away from her body, she moved from the bed and on silent feet entered the bathroom.

  Shedding the long T-shirt she had worn to bed, she watched through the shower doors as he put his head back and let the water run over his face and head. His dark blond hair plastered to his head and neck. Water streamed over his hard, muscular body, giving it a golden sheen that tempted her hands to touch.

  She watched, simply watched as he kept his back to her, poured shampoo into his palm, then replaced the bottle before working the gel through the thick strands of his hair.