by Taylor Lee
Jake exchanged a knowing grin with Anthony, the third man on his team. Both of them were accustomed to Brady’s constant trash talk. The three of them had been together on undercover missions across the globe. Usually in a hell of a lot less civilized places than Seoul. But, Jake had to admit, Brady was right about one thing. Whether it was his dirty blond hair, bright green eyes, or cocky swagger, it didn’t take long for Brady to collect a bevy of adoring women. From Iraq to Chechnya to Somalia, the trail of beautiful women lusting after the sweet-talking player was the stuff of legends.
Anthony broke in, “Dream on, buddy. I’ve also got blond hair, and I can sure as hell give you a run for your money.”
“You, Anthony? The guy whose face cracked the last time you smiled? C’mon, the big guy will be more competition than you.” Brady rebutted, nodding at Jake.
Brady plunked his empty bottle on the table and three bar girls instantly appeared at his side, giggling and nudging one another out of the way.
Brady gave a ‘nuff said’ shrug, and wrapped his arms around the closest two women gazing up at him.
“Tell you what, glorious flowers of the East, I’ll give all three of you something to do. Why don’t each of you bring us another bottle of beer? That way I can take care of my buddies while the three of you take care of me.”
Jake groaned in mock dismay, and shook his head as the giggling women scurried back to the bar.
Brady put his hands over his ears, with a shudder at the off-key shrieking blasting from the stage of the four-tiered, massive nightclub.
“Damn, Jake, don’t wanna start the mission complaining, but does my first night in Seoul have to be in a screeching karaoke bar?”
“Why are we meeting in this noisy bar? Because, it’s noisy. We have a lot to talk about. By the way, hotshot, don’t let any Koreans hear you call it karaoke. That’s strictly the Japanese name for this charming music. You’ll lose your harem before you start building it.”
A crash of flying bottles and glasses shattered the musical din and brought a deafening silence. A tall young Korean man kicked aside the broken glass and grabbed one of the girls who’d been at their table. Shoving her against the bar, he threw a fierce glare at Brady and spit out a string of angry curses. The young girl cowered in his grip, whimpering.
Brady was at the bar in seconds. He ground his thumb into a point behind the attacker’s ear. He twisted the asshole’s free arm behind his back, eliciting an enraged howl from the surprised man. Jake and Anthony leapt into the fray, forming a phalanx of support. The Korean man backed away, his hands in front of him. Throwing a threatening glare at the trembling young woman, the local spit on the floor in front of Brady. His angry epithet in Korean didn’t need translating. A cadre of burly men came from nowhere, shouting at the troublemaker. He knocked off their restraining hands, and with a furious scowl at Brady, he stormed toward the exit.
Jake tugged on Brady’s arm.
“Let the NPA handle it. Damn, we’re supposed to be inconspicuous, remember?”
Brady nodded, but his expression was grim.
“Uh, yeah. Little hard to ignore, though, don’t you think, big guy?”
When they were all seated again, Jake jerked his head toward the bartender, who was at their table in moments. The nervous-looking little man bowed low and muttered “On the house. So sorry.”
~~~
Tiffany stood to the side, taking in the ruckus. These had to be her guys. Damn, she hoped so. Hard to decide which one of the hunks appealed more. There was something about Special Forces guys that gave them away. It was more than their ‘touch me and you will die’ vibe. It was that she’d never met one that wasn’t gorgeous. And this trio raised the stud standard exponentially. Problem was, she was sure that their egos were as well-developed as their pecs. Big men, big egos. What’s new about that? She wondered if they knew that they’d just insulted a member of the Kkangpae, a gang that you did not want to annoy. She had a feeling they’d find out soon enough.
Taking in their casual jeans and t-shirts, she wished she’d had time to change. Nothing like a bad first impression. Maybe for once she could’ve foregone the Pippi Longstocking braids but, dammit, it was the only way she could contain her curly mass of hair in this humidity. Shoving her thick black lenses nervously up on the bridge of her nose, she was glad for the anonymous cover of her AFC uniform. What the hell was she supposed to wear? She’d started her day fifteen hours ago, and spent the entire time at Garrison Yongsan in the blazing heat.
Obviously invisible to the three hunks, she coughed discreetly to get their attention. The cocky blond with the grin nodded to her and winked. The serious one frowned slightly at the interruption. She focused on the dark-haired giant with the piercing blue eyes. This could only be the commander. The mighty Jake Gardner was the wunderkind colonel, known for his remarkable Special Forces escapades—and by the distaff side of the Army for his prowess with women. Now at CID, he was among the most feared investigators. No one was stupid enough or greedy enough to intentionally tangle with Colonel Gardner.
Meeting his stern gaze, she forced her voice to be firm. She chose not to salute, to avoid giving away their cover.
“Captain Anderson, sir.”
The crease between Gardner’s dark brows deepened as he raked his eyes over her. Done with his arrogant inspection, a wicked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He unwound all six-feet-plus of his lean frame from the chair, and extended his hand.
“You don’t say. Please, Captain, sit down.” He pulled out the chair next to him and motioned for her to be seated. The shivery sensations streaking over her at the sound of his sexy southern drawl confirmed how he’d earned his prodigious reputation with women.
He nodded to the surfer dude. “This is Lt. Col. Brady Schaefer. If he gives you any trouble, let Sgt. Beloi or me know. We’ll knock him down to size. We do it regularly. And this guy is Sgt. Anthony Beloi, who’s saved my life more times than… well, more than I should have lived.”
Despite Tiffany’s substantial rank, all three men looked her over, not hiding their curiosity. Once more she cursed herself for giving up on makeup. Just this once she’d have liked to look like she belonged with these hot guys, instead of like one of their bedraggled little sisters.
~~~
Jake did his best to cover his surprise and amusement. This was the red-headed tigress they were going to use to bait their perp? Granted her bones were good, once you got by those coke bottle lenses, and that frizzy hair sticking out from under her regulation cap. In braids, no less. Looking at the rubber bands binding the straggling ends of her hair, he thought all she needed were pink and white barrettes to complete the incongruous picture.
She didn’t miss his amusement. Her chin went up in the air in what looked like a practiced gesture to ward off assholes—like the three of them. He gave a diffident shrug. Figured he’d put it out on the table, before Brady did in a way that was sure to offend.
“I’m surprised, Captain. I’d expected you to be—”
She broke in. “To be what, Colonel? More attractive? Less like something the cat dragged in? For your information, I’ve been at the Garrison since 0500 this morning. And if you aren’t aware, it’s 90 degrees outside and so is the humidity.”
Jake heard the mix of anger and embarrassment in her voice and saw the heat pinking her cheeks. He sought to smooth things over. Christ, she can’t be as young as she looks, not if she’s an 0-3 already.
“No, Captain, that’s not what I meant. I know the girls who were killed, and the ones missing were young. By the way, how old are you, Miss, I mean Captain?”
This time not only her chin went up, but her whole body seemed to grow several inches.
“I’m sorry you are disappointed in my appearance, Colonel. You have seen my resume. You know how old I am. You also know the kind of undercover work I do. I can assure you I am equipped for the job.”
Jake regarded her thoughtfully.
“Yes, I have read your resume. Frankly I’m surprised CID has had as many operations that required the services of a—shall we say—a call girl, as you seem to have participated in.”
Her rejoinder was crisp.
“I’m surprised that you are surprised, Colonel.” Her eyes swept from one to the other of them. “I would have thought you knew how many assholes hide out in the Army.”
Jake chuckled but didn’t hide the coolness in his voice.
“That’ll do, Captain Anderson. Pull it back. We’ve all read your CV and you’ve read ours. You know what’s expected of you. We are going to plant you in one of the clubs where the girls who’ve disappeared worked. Your job is to see if you can get the attention of that son-of-a-bitch we’re after. The one in a Lt. Colonel’s uniform, who seems to be the last person our vics were seen with. And yes, like you, all the women were Caucasian, most were blond—a couple were redheads… Which according to my colleague,” he added, winking at Brady, “is a sought-after feature in Korea.”
Brady grinned at her with a salacious wink. “Wonder if any of the girls looked like Little Orphan Annie.”
Jake threw Brady a warning frown, but too late. Their would-be vixen had had enough. Tiffany jumped to her feet, knocking her chair to the floor with a crash. She smashed her lips together in a thin line, her eyes flashing, then turned on her heels, heading to the exit.
Jake leaned back in his chair. His lazy drawl was laced with steel. “I didn’t dismiss you, Captain.”
She whirled on him, two angry red splotches marking her pale cheeks. Her bright green eyes burned dark. Fiery, gleaming. Glaring at him, she hesitated then whispered, “Fuck. You.”
Both Anthony and Brady audibly gasped, and jerked up straight in their chairs.
Jake’s voice was rapier sharp.
“What did you say to me?”
He pinned her with a hard stare. She paled and visibly swallowed. He thought he saw tears in her eyes.
She flushed then stammered, “I… I said… good night. Sir.”
Jake held her gaze for a long moment. “We’ll discuss this in the morning. Be in my office at 0900 hours. Don’t be late.”
He kept her frozen in place another moment, then said quietly, “Good night, Captain Anderson. Now, you’re dismissed.”
Brady whistled, wide-eyed, watching her walk away. Anthony frowned. His always-solemn voice was more so.
“Damn, Jake, I don’t see how you can let that insubordination stand.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, Anthony.”
He gave a brooding sigh. Then he added, “Guess that’s what’s good about serving in the Special Forces as long as we did. We write our own rules when we have to.”
He took a sip of his beer. “I think that insubordinate attitude of hers might serve her well in the work ahead.”
Glancing from one to the other, he met their surprised expressions head on.
“Let’s agree. The only thing we all heard her say was good night.” He added with a frown, “That’s an order, men.”
Chapter 2
Tiffany huddled at a corner table in the back of the bar as far away from the three men as possible. She was shaking too hard to even walk out to her Jeep. Her legs were like rubber. She needed to regain her composure. She didn’t remember when she’d been angrier, or more frightened. God, what had gotten into her? She’d been hassled before by men she worked with. Hell, it was standard fare. She’d learned to let it roll off her back like a cold shower. But not tonight. There was something about those arrogant gorgeous men that made her snap. She shuddered, gorge rising in her throat. How could she have said that? To a full bird? Her commander? It was certain he’d take her off the case. Would never let her work with them. And the write-up that he’d put in her file… God… then she reminded herself: a write-up would be letting her off easy.
She tossed back a full shot of whiskey, and motioned to one of the bar girls for another. As the girl took her time sauntering up to the bar, checking out every man on her path, Tiffany couldn’t help but compare the way all the girls had fought to serve Brady. She shook in her head in disgust, but couldn’t keep back a smile. That surfer dude was so outrageous, he was kind of cute.
The whiskey definitely helped, she decided after the third shot. She began to think she might survive after all. She saw the trio heading to the doorway and ducked her head, studiously examining the dried food stains on the table. Certain they hadn’t seen her, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Peering down at her glass, she pretended to nurse her drink. At least looking like a shipwreck kept the circling vultures high on testosterone from bothering her. She chided herself. I must really look bad. Typically, even a whiff of red hair made these Korean guys go apeshit.
The hairs on the back of Tiffany’s neck prickled ominously. A potent warning signal she’d learned to ignore only at her peril. Glancing up, she saw five ominous-looking Korean men heading toward the exit. Their eyes were as hard as their whipcord bodies. Oh, fuck. Even if her erstwhile buddies didn’t recognize the Kkangpae Jopok when they saw it, in her two years based at Garrison Yongsan, Tiffany had become intimately familiar with the notorious Korean mafia. The nerve endings in her neck practically screamed. She shoved back her chair and snapped on the protective strap to keep her glasses in place. She sure as hell couldn’t fight half blind. Naturally, her contacts lenses were nestled uselessly on her dressing table at the base.
Among a long list of fearsome traits that cemented their ruthless reputation, the Kkangpae were known for their infamous fighting skills. Tiffany had been so impressed watching a street battle when she first arrived in Korea, that she sought out a former Kkangpae fighter and paid him through the nose to teach her some of their notorious moves. Added to her already formidable skills, she never again feared walking by herself down the dark streets of Seoul.
The scene in the alley was worse than she’d feared. The three Americans were holding their own with the four goons who’d waited for them, but the addition of the five from the bar didn’t bode well for her team. Or, her former team, she reminded herself with a grimace. She allowed herself a moment of unabashed admiration at the skills of the Americans. Gardner and Beloit in particular were more than a match for the Koreans. Schaeffer had his own style. But when he drove his steel tipped boot into the face of the guy attacking him, smashing the goon’s jaw and likely crippling him for life, Tiffany put the cocky blond on the pedestal with the other two.
No question, Gardner and the others could have handled the ones waiting for them in the dark. They’d already taken out three of the four. But the shrieking advance of the five men from the bar collapsed their favorable odds in an instant. Tiffany decided it was time to even the fight. With a fearsome shriek of her own, she cleared the railing of the deck and landed on her hands and knees, five feet away from the biggest of the Kkangpae. Flipping up from the ground, she drove the steel plate on her heel into the soft spot under his ear. To her delight the guy went down with a whoosh. She had a fleeting moment of joy, knowing it was damned unlikely he’d ever get up.
Her Army Ranger father first sparred with Tiffany when she was four years old. Ten years later, at five feet six inches, her hopes to become as tall and as strong as her father came to a crashing halt. As though a mischievous devil put a concrete block on the top of her head, she stopped growing. And to make matters worse, she grew boobs. Her father was as bewildered as she was with her new attributes, but soon recovered. He taught her moves that compensated for her smallish stature. Her trademark was the one she aimed at the Kkangpae fighter who’d just kicked her to the ground and was advancing on her; the gleam in his eyes was as bright as the blade in his hand. As her father taught her, she waited until he got closer, to maximize the force of her kick. When her attacker was almost on her, she drove the steel tip of her boot at his kneecap. The sound of shattering bone and his animal wail confirmed she’d hit home. As the groaning fighter collapsed in an agonized heap, clutc
hing his dangling leg, Tiffany rolled to the side, and leapt up to take on the next one. To her surprise, all nine Kkangpai fighters were now on the ground, some of them permanently.
The three men left standing were all staring at her as if they’d seen Black Widow burst from the pages of an Avenger comic.
The cocky blond gaped at her. All teasing gone, only appreciation marked his stunned expression.
But it was the sergeant with the gray black eyes who caught her attention and held it. His lips curled in a knowing smile. His deep voice sent shivers up her spine.
“You are like my sister, Lexie. Someone taught you to fight, the way I taught her.”
He extended his hand. She took it gratefully, shook it firmly, marveling at the way his huge hand swallowed up her small one.
Colonel Gardner stepped forward, studying her. She’d lost her cap in the melee, and could only imagine what her hair looked like. The protective strap on her glasses had broken and the lenses were perched haphazardly on the end of her nose. She shoved her glasses up on the bridge of her nose so she could see him clearly, trying not to duck from his penetrating gaze.
He shook his head then gave her an ironic nod.
“Welcome to the team, Captain.”
She felt the heat stain her cheeks. Determined not to stutter, she said in as strong a voice as she could muster, ‘Um, thank you, sir. Glad to be aboard, sir.”
The Colonel shook his head, a slight smile softening his stern expression.
“And, now, Captain, for the last time tonight, you are dismissed.”
She grinned at him and saluted, “Thank you, sir.”
Stopping a few feet from her jeep, she turned and gave them a jaunty wave. Not hiding her impudent smile, she said, “See you in the morning. Guys.”
Chapter 3
Pulling up to the massive iron gates guarding the opulent Villa on the outskirts of Seoul, Clint appraised the hard-eyed men in uniform swarming his limousine. Their hands on holstered weapons spoke to their serious intent. Clint’s liveried driver rolled down his window and wordlessly passed the engraved invitation to the closest guard. Two of the other guards stepped forward and silently scrutinized the invitation. They both leaned down and peered inside the limo, meeting Clint’s eyes. The older of the two jerked out his cell phone and appeared to be comparing the picture on the phone to Clint.
