Breathing heavily, he pulled away slightly. He cradled the back of her head with one of his hands, and lifted his other hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone as he looked into her eyes.
Though there were times when he was impossible to read, this wasn’t one of them. The gentle touch of his thumb along her cheek, the tender, yet intent look in his eyes, told her that she was something he’d been coveting, that nothing he was doing was accidental. Then he bent his forehead to hers again, with his lips meeting hers. She nibbled on his lower lip, hearing herself sigh as they pulled each other even closer.
As the intensity of their kiss ramped up again, becoming a connection that was more than a joining of lips and tongues, he grabbed her hips and lifted her onto his lap. Time passed, and she shifted, turning so that their bodies melded, because kissing suddenly wasn’t enough. With her legs straddling him, she ran her hands along his back, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket and shirt. Deepening their kiss, holding her tight, he moved forward in the seat, using both hands on her hips to press her into him. She folded her legs at her ankles, with the heels of her feet at his lower back. His low groan met her sigh, and still, their kiss continued as though neither had any intention of ever ending it. Where their hips were joined, she felt the hard length of him. Yes. That’s what she wanted, and if she pressed harder, and moved her hips, just the right way…
“Hey. Trinity. Neo. We’re here.” The pedicab driver’s voice sounded like it was coming from a mile away, but it had the repercussive effect of an earthquake.
Reality crashed around her, carrying the first faint pulse of regret. She unwrapped her arms from Ace’s neck, glancing at the hotel’s top-hatted bellman, who stood at the red-carpeted entrance.
Using both hands on Ace’s shoulders to push herself off of him, she lifted her hips off his lap. As she slid onto the seat, and away from him, she faced forward and tried not to think about his erection and the fact that she’d been grinding herself onto it. As heat from an unwelcomed blush burned her cheeks, neck, and chest, the tingling at her core told her that if they’d gone at it for just another few seconds…she’d have had an orgasm in the middle of the street, for the world to see.
Holy shit!
Her mind exploded with chaotic aftershock. There was only one reason for what had happened.
I lost my freaking mind. And so did he.
As each breath carried her further into reality, the driver met her gaze. He gave her a look that seemed slightly disappointed. “For the record, I didn’t fall for that line about you two just being friends.”
The driver’s words jolted her. Friends. That was all they were. Right? She glanced at Ace, who was leaning forward slightly, gripping the bench seat with both hands, as though stunned. His shirt was untucked. Yeah, she’d done that, pulling herself closer to him. His hair was mussed. She’d done that, too. When he looked at her, she saw that his eyes remained a portal to everything that had inspired their kiss. Desire. Hunger. Lust.
For a brief second, she was torn. If she was reading him correctly, he wanted more. Yes, she did, too. If they went there, though, they’d never get back to where they belonged. With words intended as much for herself as for him, she said, “Snap out of it.”
He sat straighter and squared his shoulders. “Yeah. Right.” He paused, as though reflecting on their kiss, then added, “Wow. Huh?”
While her body waged a war with reason, the driver’s voice grounded her. “Fare is thirty-seven fifty.”
As a little more of their reality crept into her mind, she watched Ace give a curt nod. Ace said, “Got it,” for the benefit of the driver, yet he didn’t break eye contact with her.
“What were we thinking?” she asked.
He straightened his jacket and ran his hands through his hair. With a shrug, he said, “Should seem obvious. We wanted to kiss.”
“Seriously?” She punched his arm. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Give me some time.” With a serious look in his eyes, his gaze searched hers. “I’ll come up with more.”
That he seemed so comfortable with what had happened jolted her into realizing she was going to have to be the one to use logic, reasoning, and willpower. She grabbed her boots and exited on the sidewalk side, as Ace stepped out of the pedicab on the street side. She stepped onto the hotel’s red carpet in bare feet. By the time she made it up the stairs, through the revolving doorway, and five steps into the lobby, Ace had paid the driver and was at her side, walking in stride next to her.
“Wait,” he said.
“Not a chance.”
“Where are you going so fast?”
“Should seem obvious.” She let sarcasm flood her comments, as she used his words. “My room. Alone. You’re going to yours. Or wherever you want to go for a reality check, which we both really need.”
“But we should—”
“Shake off whatever just happened. That’s what we should do.”
Because it wasn’t just a kiss. It was way more than that. And I know you know that.
“At least look at me.” He faced her as she pressed the elevator button five times. She glanced his way. A smirk of a smile played at his lips. “That was a great kiss. Might be the best ever. Don’t act like it’s the end of the world.”
Come on, elevator. Hurry up.
Finding it hard to look at him, she looked away. Yet the shiny bronze doors were as good as a mirror. She met his gaze. “Friends don’t kiss like that. As co-workers we can’t. It’s against the rules—”
His smirk became a full-fledged grin. “Yeah. At Black Raven, in case you haven’t noticed, that sort of rule gets broken sometimes.”
“Not by me. When co-agents break rules, especially elite agents like us who are subject to being placed on the same high-risk jobs, it gets complicated, and there are consequences,” she turned from him and faced the elevator doors again. His smile faded as he stared at her reflection. “Ones I don’t feel like dealing with, and I suspect that you don’t either. Not now. Not ever.”
The elevator dinged.
Thank you, God.
As the doors opened, she said, “My elevator. Get your own.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly.” Stepping into the elevator, she turned to face him, relieved when he didn’t cross the threshold. “We’re not doing that again. As a matter of fact, I’m going to pretend that it never happened. If you value our friendship, you will too.”
Chapter Two
Saturday, December 1
Port of Macau, Ling Wen Enterprises Shipyard
A burst of chilly wind rushed over the port’s gray, choppy water. He buttoned his all-weather coat. Ceremonial flags that had been raised for the ship’s christening snapped with the breeze. Dark clouds, steadily building, hinted at the hell that he’d planned for the cruise ship’s maiden voyage. As carefully as the ship had been constructed, he’d designed a plan to profit from destroying her.
A crane lifted a harnessed, oversized bottle of champagne off the dock, towards the ship. Every inch of the four-hundred-and-forty-foot luxury cruise ship, from state-of-the-art air filtration systems to the casino’s Baccarat crystal chandeliers, had been designed to provide an unforgettable experience while guests played high-stakes games of chance. Freshly unveiled for public viewing, the vessel’s graceful curves and lines paid homage to fine maritime design and craftsmanship.
Inhaling the salty tang of ocean air, he accepted a flute of champagne from a tuxedo-clad waiter as his gaze scanned the crowd. Shipyard workers were beaming with pride at their creation. Executives of Imagine Casinos Worldwide, smug that they’d produced what would be hailed as the crown jewel of gambling-themed, luxury cruise liners, were answering questions from the press. Casino guests from the land-based Imagine Casino of Macau, several of whom would be aboard for the ship’s first cruise, smiled with excitement at having an exclusive preview. No one seemed bothered by the gloom of the ship’s christening day, and th
ey damn well didn’t know of his plans.
With a slow arc, the crane operator swung the giant bottle into position. Lingering cries of hovering seagulls resonated, as the din of conversations among the hundred or so onlookers quieted into whispers. According to maritime lore, if luck would run in the ship’s favor, the bottle of champagne, made of thick, gold-colored glass, would shatter against the ship on the first attempt.
From behind him, someone asked, “Is that a bottle of Armand de Brignac?”
“Looks to be the same thing the waiters are serving,” the man on his left answered, in Mandarin. “Brut Gold, Ace of Spades.”
“That bottle is huge. Nebuchadnezzar-sized?”
“Got to be. Can’t believe Theodore Baru is smashing that against a ship.”
“Only the best for Baru. Five thousand Hong Kong Dollars says the bottle doesn’t break on the first hit,” the man on his left said in English. “Any takers?”
He was tempted, but didn’t bite. He had a lot more than five thousand dollars riding on the ship’s future, and he’d left none of it to chance. He’d conceived of the plan and, due to the scope, hired one of the best criminal masterminds. A key player in the underworld of Chinese triads, his second-in-command was known as an executioner, a man who could not only execute complex transactions seamlessly, but also had no problem executing people as needed.
“I’ll take the bet,” a woman on his right said. “Want to raise it to ten thousand?”
“You’re on.”
Once the oversized champagne bottle was high above the bow, the crane operator paused. A Christian minister and a Buddhist monk rose to their feet on a podium that had been assembled for the occasion. The monk stepped to the microphone first. Onlookers bowed their heads, while the monk said a prayer in Mandarin.
Instead of praying, he kept his attention on the champagne bottle, now high above the ship’s glistening bow. Nestled in a harness with three chains that were affixed to the crane, the bottle gently swayed until it became still. When the monk was through, the minister moved forward and lifted his arms to the sky. In English, the minister prayed, “Almighty God, benevolent Lord of all the oceans and waterways…”
He tuned out the prayer, confident his plan wouldn’t be thwarted by God-like intervention. Like the prayers, the champagne was an offering intended to assure safe passage for the vessel and all who travelled aboard her. Which wasn’t going to happen. No matter what religions they practiced. Or whether the bottle broke on the first drop.
“…and may God bless this ship, which we christen today, with the name Imagine.”
When the minister lowered his arms, the crane operator released the two chains that held the harness. The final chain, a safeguard in case the bottle didn’t shatter, remained affixed to the neck. It freely spooled out as the bottle careened downward, smashed against the ship’s bow, and shattered with a loud pop. Shards of glass flew as fifteen liters of fine champagne foamed and sprayed into the air, over the bow’s glistening handrails, and onto the anchor.
Amidst a round of applause, he bit back a twinge of disappointment and reminded himself that he wasn’t superstitious. Since a young age, he’d worked hard at designing his reality, which he and his hired gun were doing by planning details with precision—from takeover of the ship, to roundup of passengers, money transfers, destruction of all evidence, and escape.
As a chorus of toasts erupted, the crowd lifted their glasses of champagne. “To Imagine.”
“Imagine.”
“May she sail fast and safe.”
He turned to the woman on his right, who was now ten thousand dollars richer because the bottle had broken on the first drop. They clinked glasses. She smiled, and said, “Imagine.”
He nodded. Yes, he’d imagined it. He’d not only imagined it, he’d planned it. As he sipped the cold, bubbly liquid, he smiled, confident in his plans. Oddly, he felt no remorse over the mass murder that would take place in twenty-two days, when his wild, twisted dreams would become a reality. Imagine’s inaugural voyage would end with the ship resting on the ocean floor. He’d be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. Best, no one would ever know that he was the mastermind behind the worst naval disaster in modern times.
Chapter Three
Tuesday, December 18
Denver, Colorado
Due to flight delays out of Saudi Arabia, Ace arrived at Black Raven’s corporate headquarters a few minutes late for a job briefing that was supposed to start at two o’clock. After handing his duffel bag to the agent who manned the front desk in the expansive lobby, he jogged up the stairs to the third floor and entered the briefing room where Zeus Hernandez, a partner in the company, stood at a podium.
Against the right wall, a petite woman sat at a table that faced the audience and the podium. Her attention was focused on her laptop screen. Ragno was the head of Black Raven’s cyber and intelligence division, and legendary for having her fingers firmly on the pulse of the company’s most complex jobs. Her multi-tasking skills were famous, and Ace had no doubt that she was working on multiple projects while waiting for the presentation to begin. Her presence underscored the importance of the job that was the subject of the briefing.
Behind Zeus, a white projection wall had the flickering, pinpoint light of a remote-controlled cursor. Zeus, who had dark hair, dark eyes, and was taller than most, looked up from his iPad. He gave Ace a barely perceptible nod.
As the heavy door clicked shut behind Ace, conversations ebbed. Twenty-five or so agents were seated in leather chairs at four rows of crescent-shaped tables that faced the front of the room. Ace recognized field agents and cyber-support agents, who often worked in tandem with each other. The interactive nature of their work ensured that field agents had access to data of all sorts, as needed. Several gave him a nod. From the far end of the first row, Leo shot him an over-the-shoulder glance. Their eyes locked.
Her slight smile was casual, yet his heartbeat accelerated. The quickening was slight and subtle, but unmistakable. He’d last seen her in person as their Halloween night came to a screeching halt with the aftershock from their kiss. Now, even from across the room, she looked better than she had in Ace’s memory. Her hair, chin-length and choppy, had returned to its normal chestnut color from the raven-black she’d used for her costume. The lighter color made the gold in her hazel eyes more apparent.
“Now that Evans has arrived,” Zeus said, as Ace settled into the nearest available chair in the back row, “we’ll get started.”
The lights in the room dimmed slightly for the presentation, while on the front wall, between Zeus and Ragno, an image of a cruise ship appeared. The vessel had bold, elegant lines, with six decks above the water line. The image shifted, and a video started, presenting a 3-D tour that began with a close-up of an enormous, gold-colored bottle of champagne exploding as it smashed against the ship’s bow.
“Cool,” someone said.
“Waste of good bubbly,” someone replied, as the video shifted to an expansive casino, with glittering chandeliers and a sea of gaming tables.
“Is that the job site?” another asked, a hopeful tone in his voice as the image shifted to the interior of the ship, focusing on a theater where plush chairs faced a stage with Christmas trees. A subtitle identified the room as the Calliope Theater.
“Hope my room has a balcony,” came another voice.
“You’ll be in steerage,” Leo said, joining in the chatter.
As he watched the video, Ace wondered what Leo’s role would be on the job. Leo, a rarity among the agents, had cyber skills that rivaled the best programmers and analysts in the cyber division, but she also had field skills that qualified her for the most elite teams, on the highest risk jobs. Sometimes she worked from Denver, while on other jobs she worked in the field.
“You will have two days of prep work here,” Zeus said, as the video tour of the ship stopped in the boat’s expansive engine room. “Then a twelve-agent field team will depart for Macau.”
>
“Where’s that?” Wade Kamin, sitting in the first row next to Leo, asked the question that Ace knew was designed to get a rise out of Zeus.
A few agents chuckled. Someone tossed a balled-up piece of paper at Kamin. He caught it as it bounced off his head and tossed it back.
“Nebraska,” Zeus answered, without cracking a smile.
“Lame one, Kamin,” someone else called.
“Aw, come on. That was funny,” Kamin said. “Sort of.”
“The field team will be undercover on a three-day gambling cruise, on the inaugural voyage for this ship, which was christened on the first of December.” Zeus gestured with a slight flick of his head to the wall, where the scroll of print at the bottom of the image indicated they were looking at The Compass Rose Bar, an upper deck lounge with low seating areas and large windows that overlooked the ship’s expansive stern. “Ship’s name is Imagine.”
“Wait. Are you saying that this cruise ship operates out of Nebraska?” Agent Dean Marks asked. The young field agent, whose comment brought a solid round of laughter and chuckles, sat on Ace’s left.
Marks sounded so honestly confused, all heads in the room turned towards him, then ricocheted back to Zeus. Evan Ragno glanced up from her computer, then focused on Zeus to see his reaction.
Someone asked, an incredulous tone in his voice, “Is the kid serious?”
As Ace studied Zeus for any sign of humor, he chuckled. There was a slight softening at Zeus’ lips as he focused on Marks, but then his habitual neutral face, closer to a scowl than a smile, returned.
Too bad.
A smile from Zeus in response to his joke would have earned Marks five hundred dollars from the other field agents in the room. Getting Zeus to actually laugh during a briefing would have earned any agent a thousand dollars.
Imagine (Black Raven Book 4) Page 2
