Dangerous Law (Suit Romance Series): A Rogue Operative Romance

by Marianne Morea

  Her sister stared at the rectangular box held out across the small round table. “Taking them feels like signing your death certificate.”

  “Don’t be daft. Just take the damn box, Pen.”

  Penelope shook her head again. “Leave it to you to pick the hottest day of the year for sentimental claptrap. Nothing is going to happen, except me throttling you if you don’t put that back in your purse.”

  “Mum’s jewelry should have been divided between us in the first place, Penelope. When they read her will.”

  Her sister pursed her lips. “Something’s up with you. I can feel it.” She looked at her sister’s face. “This isn’t just about Mum’s things.”

  “Don’t be so suspicious. I’m the lawyer in the family. That’s my job. What’s wrong with wanting to do something nice for my sister?”

  Penny raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, you win. Despite what I said, I have an inkling this meeting isn’t just more bureaucratic red tape. I’d be more certain if the meeting was held in Washington, rather than New York.”

  “I should’ve known this coffee clutch wasn’t for my benefit.”

  “Pen—”

  Penny shook her head. “You’re a member of the Judge Advocate General’s office as a civilian intelligence liaison. Your CIA days are over. So whatever it is they’re planning, tell them to get stuffed. You’re a British national, not target practice. You’ve done enough.”

  “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said placing the box on the table. “All I know is I’m to meet with the U.S. counterpart to my office here in New York before they tell me anything else. Who knows? After what happened eighteen months ago, they could tell me they’re transferring me back to the U.K.”

  Penelope blinked. “Wait, could they do that?”

  “That’s a stupid question. Technically, I’m still attached to the military, even if my nose is buried in legal briefs most of the time.” Jessica leaned forward and lowered her voice. “The higher ups haven’t forgotten I was involved in a covert maneuver that went sour, so anything’s possible.”

  Penny balked. “They used you, Jessie, and you almost died in the process. Besides, you’ve been in Washington for ages. How can they send you back just like that?” She snapped her fingers.

  “Easy.” Jessica glanced at the wet ring on her napkin before looking up again. “To be honest, I was lucky they sent me back to JAG instead of dragging me though a full inquest. I was debriefed and then released, by what miracle, though, I have no idea.”

  You know why. Devlin saved your ass.

  He also tapped your ass good, too.

  Real good. Remember?

  Images from their time together sent a jolt through her lower belly. Her breath caught for a moment and Jessica coughed to cover her body’s visceral reaction.

  A year and a half later and memories of Devlin still haunted. After what happened in Kyiv, she should have real PTSD. Instead she was stuck with Post Traumatic SEX Disorder courtesy of a man she hadn’t laid eyes on since.

  Devlin Law.

  Dangerous and skilled.

  She inhaled. Oh, so very skilled.

  The same questions nagged and she did her best to ignore them. Did he care or was it just battle sex? The kind driven by overloaded emotions and alcohol.

  She shook her head.

  Devlin cared. She felt it in her bones, or at least, that’s what she told herself.

  “Why now, though?” Penny continued, oblivious to her sister’s preoccupied disinterest. “If they wanted you for another assignment, wouldn’t they have called you up when you were still fresh?”

  “Fresh?” Jessica at the mental redirect. “You make me sound like day old bread. I have no clue what motivates the government, or doesn’t for that matter.”

  She looked at her sister. “Can’t we just enjoy this unexpected visit, Pen? We’re a forty-five-minute shuttle flight away and still we don’t see each other enough.”

  Penelope chuckled, taking a sip from her iced coffee. “Forget it, Jess. I’m not moving to D.C. Especially not if you’re headed back to London.”

  Jessica’s eyes scanned the Bryant Park café. “I know, but you can’t blame me for trying. You’re the only family I have, plus I get why you love New York so much. It’s so…so…alive.”

  “And so are you, though judging by the state of your love life, that wouldn’t be the word I’d pick.” Penny jiggled the ice in her tall, plastic cup, clearly changing the subject.

  Jessica smirked watching her sister skillfully stir the pot the same way she stirred her coffee. “And here we go again. Listen, there’s some shopping I want to do before my day officially starts, so why don’t I catch you up later—” Jessica let her words trail as she watched Penelope’s attention drift toward the café door.

  “Oh, hello…” her sister murmured with a grin.

  “Who?”

  “My future husband, that’s who, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome with a side of yummy.” Penelope giggled, gesturing toward the order counter. “Now that’s the kind of guy I picture spooning behind me every morning. Hard bits, especially. Order up!”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “Is that all you think about? Hard bits?”

  “Why not? Looking never hurt anyone, Jess. Men do it all the time. If I had a dollar for every time a guy looked at my tits before looking me in the eye, I could retire. So, what’s wrong with a little reverse ogling?”

  “Seriously, Penelope. You need a new hobby.”

  Her lips pushed into a sideways grin. “Humor me, then, darling. A little eye candy might get your juices going again, Jessica Moiré Banning, and if anyone needed it to rain men, it’s you. Your dry spell is bordering on epic.”

  “Hey!”

  Penelope stared at her. “I’m not wrong, Jess. When’s the last time you had sex? And don’t tell me Rodger, because a needle-sized dick attached to a Napoleon complex doesn’t count.”

  “Of course, it counts,” Jessica shot back.

  A skeptical snort left Penny’s mouth. “Not when the man in question has as much sex appeal as a doorknob, plus that was two years ago. A dry spell like yours might as well be a death sentence. You’re thirty-two years old, Jess. Experienced and confident. Seasoned, not sagging. You need to stop living as if your life is over.”

  It’s not over. Just not satisfied. Not the way that dangerous man, satisfied…over and over…

  Jessica blinked away the thought and the electric shock it sent straight to her sex. What did she expect? A ride into the sunset? Devlin Law was a one off. A one-night stand borne of trauma and stress.

  Liar, liar pants on fire.

  Stop it.

  Pants on fire for real, girl. Admit it. You wanted Devlin from the moment you set eyes on him. The job gone wrong gave you the green light you needed to jump his bones.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, ignoring her sister’s droning.

  That night was not a green light for unrestrained humpage. It just happened.

  Yeah…it happened, all right. At least three times in succession.

  “That’s not fair, Penny,” she shot back ignoring her internal quarrel. “In fact, it’s downright mean. Besides, I’m too busy for eye candy.”

  Pen gave her a look that she didn’t buy the excuse. “Burying yourself at work is not the answer. You need to lighten up and let go or the only guys you’re going to attract are ones like Rodger. Now turn around and take a long look at what the world of men has to offer.”

  With a grudging sniff, Jessica shifted her gaze. The guy was tall and unbelievably handsome, at least from behind. With dark hair and wide shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist.

  His firm buttocks filled out was an obviously custom-made charcoal gray suit, so impeccably tailored there was no question of the powerful thrusts waiting to be unleashed when that fresco wool hit the floor.

  The man’s jacket was over his arm, and his pressed cotton of his fitted dress shirt was light enough to with
stand summer in the concrete jungle, yet thin enough to hint at the flat, lean muscles hidden beneath. Penny was right. The man was sex on a stick incarnate.

  He paid for his iced coffee and turned, his eyes finding Jessica immediately. She froze, straw in hand with her tongue wrapped around the long, thin plastic, its pink tip poised to lap at the whipped cream topping on the end. It was déjà vu.

  “Sir, your change.”

  The man ignored the cashier, his eyes dropping from Jessica’s mouth to her curve of her throat and the hint of cleavage at her chest, before lifting to her face.

  Self-conscious, she shoved the straw into the cup and then wiped her mouth with the side of her finger.

  “You missed a spot, Ace,” he said with a low husk to his voice.

  Heat crawled up her cheeks and the only thing keeping her jaw from dropping was Penelope’s I told you so look.

  No one else in the world called her Ace.

  “Sir, your change,” the cashier tried again.

  He took the money from the woman’s hand, his eyes catching Jessica’s again, and for a moment they lingered as hungry and fierce as she remembered.

  Without a word or a backward glance, he turned for the exit and Penelope sighed. “He fancied you, Jess. That’s for sure. Sad you don’t recognize your own allure.”

  Recognize. That was the operative word.

  Devlin.

  Jessica snuck another glance toward his wide back as he headed out of the park. She gave her iced coffee a vicious swirl.

  It’s been a year and a half. Remember?

  Lord, did she remember. Skilled hands on her body, the way he tasted, and the way he made her shake with pleasure—

  That’s not what I meant. He could’ve called.

  He did call…and then he didn’t.

  “What’s the matter?” Pen asked. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  Jessica didn’t reply. Penny knew nothing about Devlin Law or their connection. What was he doing in New York today of all days? She played with a paper napkin, curling the ends between her fingers. Why did he have to look so damn good? So damn hot?

  Why did he just walk away?

  Jess dismissed the thought. Shoving her cup to the side, she exhaled realizing Penny watched the entire inner battle play out on her face.

  “I know what’s wrong, even if you won’t admit it,” her sister continued.

  Jessica shook her head. “You couldn’t possibly.”

  “You might be older than me, but I know better. You’ve been inventing qualities in men for so long, you’ve forgotten the genuine article. You’ve forgotten what a sexually confident man feels like.”

  Jessica gaped. “Inventing? I don’t think so, sister dear. I know exactly what a sexually confident man feels like, Pen. What he tastes like, too. How it feels when he fills you completely, only to leave you craving more. I don’t need to invent anything, Penny. I lived it.”

  “If that’s true, then why do you bother with the likes of Rodger and those other megalomaniacs in D.C.? More importantly, why have you not told me the juicy details?”

  Jessica laughed. “Because, little sister, you have sex on the brain. Plus, you just described every man working in the President’s Reciprocity Alliance Tribunal of the JAG Corps. I work twenty hours a day at PRAT. Like I said, I don’t have time for eye candy.”

  No one lives up to Devlin, anyway.

  Penelope snorted, stifling a laugh.

  “Cut it out, Pen.”

  The younger woman laughed out loud with a snort. “PRAT. I still can’t believe you can utter the word and not burst out laughing. The acronym is like purposefully abbreviating one’s name to dickhead! Then again, considering the prats you work for, the name fits.”

  Jessica snorted as well. “Do you know how long it took for me to train myself not to laugh? I almost refused the post because of the name, but you had already moved from London to New York, so I bit my tongue and took the job.”

  “What a laugh Da would’ve had.” Still smirking, Penny wiped her eyes. “He always said the government was knee deep in prats.”

  Inhaling, Jess nodded. “Still, PRAT is a formidable international alliance with ties to most intelligence agencies around the world, so that takes a bit of the sting out of its silly name.”

  Laughing at her sister’s expression, she grinned. “You may not like it much, but it still needs to be done. On all fronts. Too much is for sale to the highest bidder, Pen, and it’s not the people at the top who suffer. They’re the protected elites. It’s the unprotected populace that bears the brunt. Especially children.”

  “Look at you, getting all Joan of Arc on me,” Penny teased.

  Jessica looked at her hands. If only Penny knew. “I can’t share certain information, but trust me the elites will go to any lengths to protect their dirty little secrets. People die, Penny—” her throat tightened. “I look at it as my job to help find out why and who’s behind it.”

  “So much for keeping your nose buried in legal briefs.” Penelope covered her sister’s hand. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this, Jessica.”

  Jessica sandwiched Penny’s hand between both of hers. “I’m only an analyst. These days my work is in governance and strategy. I make sure we stay within the rule of international law.”

  She glanced at her wrist watch with a start. “Bloody hell. My meeting is in less than an hour.” She scraped her seat back, the noise loud despite the busy traffic along 42nd Street and Bryant Park.

  “Relax. You’re not that far.”

  Jessica grabbed her purse from beneath the table and gave her sister a quick hug. “The United Nations is halfway across town. With midtown traffic, that could take forever.”

  “Ring me! And don’t run! You’ll break a heel!” Penelope called after, but Jess didn’t turn. She’d left the velvet box on the table, as well. “Jess! Mum’s box!”

  She glanced over her shoulder halfway down the park stairs. “Keep it for me, Pen.” She rushed off, her long brown hair blowing behind her as she turned down the street.

  Chapter Eight

  “To be honest, I was surprised to get your call, Commander Ward.” Jessica smoothed the crisp front of her uniform.

  The older man looked across the top of his square-rimmed glasses, his gaze focused on Jessica seated in the plush leather chair across from his desk. “Why the surprise?”

  “I have a drawer full of inquiries sent to both your government and mine. All I wanted was information on two colleagues, some kind of assurance they were alive and safe. Yet each was sent back with a classified refusal and signed by you. So, you can imagine my skepticism when the call came to report here today.”

  “If you were active military you’d be guilty of insubordination, Ms. Banning.”

  Jessica shrugged. “My contract with PRAT is up in six months, and I’ve yet to put in for another, so I don’t really care if I’m insubordinate or not. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve been as civil as humanly possible, especially since I’ve been cock-blocked in my concern for my friends.”

  The man’s lips pulled down. “Your file doesn’t do you justice, Ms. Banning. I was told you were a live wire, though. I assumed a year and a half buried in paperwork and military torts would have smoothed off the rough edges by now.”

  “If you’re privy to my file, Commander, then you know my rough edges were cut that night in Kyiv, and honed on nightmares ever since. You’re going to have to provide more information if you expect me to sign on the dotted line for another unknown fiasco like the one in the Ukraine.”

  Ward put his pen down and leaned in, his elbows resting on his maroon leather blotter. “This is not unknown, Jessica. At least, not to you.”

  “Stop with the cryptic and level with me already. Why am I here instead of reviewing this case file at my desk in D.C.?”

  Ward kept his gaze steady. “Three words. Operation Pony Express. You’re here because you are required.”

  The operation’
s familiar name nearly floored her, but she kept her face impassive, even if her palms burned from the way she dug her nails.

  “Required?” Skepticism edged Jessie’s voice “By whom?”

  He templed his fingers and nodded. “I’m not at liberty to say.” He eyed her. “But I can assure you, no one is cock-blocking anything anymore.”

  The word sounded comical coming from the prim man’s mouth, and she couldn’t help a ghost of a smirk. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed and his lips twitched before he cleared his throat, getting back to the point.

  “There’s been a new development, Jessica.”

  She snorted. “Wait, don’t tell me. Another new key witness. Is this one trying to clear their conscience or are they just afraid of dying like the last one?” she shot back.

  He spread his hands on his large desk. “Does it matter?”

  She sat back in the leather office chair, ignoring the crease in the bureaucrat’s brow as she struggled to keep her jaw relaxed.

  Ward blinked. “As I was saying, with this new evidence, and since you were on scene the last time, we want you to take a lead role in the investigation. Keep everything and everyone clicking on correct cylinders, if you get my meaning. This is a delicate matter and one we want settled with the least amount of ruffled feathers.”

  Jessica crossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair. “Is that your way of asking me to play nice, Commander? Because if you are, there’s only one way I play and that’s hard and fast. I learned quickly that operatives in tight situations don’t have the luxury of coloring within the lines.

  “If I have the opportunity to help bring whoever’s responsible for this trafficking ring to justice, not to mention nearly killing me and the other assets on the job, I don’t care if an entire flock gets its feathers ruffled in the process.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t comment.

  “You look unhappy, Commander. How did you imagine I’d respond? With a fat wet kiss for you telling me to sit on one hand? I thought this situation was dead in the water, and now that I know it’s not, if you thought I would waste one second on political correctness, you should have thought more before ripping the scab off an old wound.”