by Taylor Lee
Diamond’s anxiety was apparent as she looked past the group and gazed at Ian. Topaz realized that this was the first time her boss had seen Ian since they’d returned from the mission. Her uncle was definitely pale, but his numerous bruises had faded to a yellowish hue. He’d be wearing the cast and sling on his left arm for some time but, other than that, most of his injuries were healed.
“Are…are you all right, Ian?” Diamond asked with a frown.
Ian smiled at her and shrugged.
“But, of course.” He quipped with an ironic grin, “You should have seen the other guy.”
Gray snorted. “Make that other guys. The boss man is being modest, Diamond. It took four of Torres’ goons to take Ian down. And, hell, from the look of their injuries, Ian got the better of the fight. You’ll be glad to know that Noah and Jase finished the job with a barrage of gunfire. The four bastards who attacked Ian, and several others, all died within seconds of our assault on Torres’ compound. And, of course, you’ve already heard what your newest ‘Lady’ did to Torres.”
Diamond hesitated looking around the table. Topaz thought she saw a flash of regret in her imperious boss’s expression. For a moment, Diamond almost looked lonely or at least alone. Given that Gray had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Ruby and Sapphire were secured by their impressive men, Diamond was clearly the “odd man out” among a group of couples.
Confirming that she wasn’t the only one who noticed the momentary crack in Diamond’s hard shell, Ian motioned to the LOTN founder with his good hand.
“How about coming over here and sitting beside me, Diamond. I could use a little companionship in the midst of all these gooey-eyed agents of ours.”
Diamond’s flush disappeared as quickly as it had flooded her cheeks. She tossed her head and muttered disparagingly as she strode toward the chair beside Ian.
“I’m pleased to know, Col. Ross, that at least you haven’t gone to the dark side of ‘couple bliss’ as all of our agents apparently have.”
She sat down and pinned a hard glare on Gray and sniffed.
“Really, Col. Webb. I thought I could count on you, of all men, to hew to your profligate lifestyle. I’m surprised and dismayed that you have followed in your fellow agents pussy whipped footsteps.”
Gray laughed aloud. “Sorry, Diamond. While you may not have gotten Topaz’s ‘vibe,’ I sure as hell did. In fact, I don’t know if I’ll ever recover it’s so damned powerful.”
Diamond flushed and this time the flames on her cheeks held firm. She caught Topaz’s gaze and said with an annoyed shrug, “I always knew you had the ‘vibe.’ I just wanted to make sure that you knew it. It was the least I could do for you. But even I didn’t think that it was strong enough to snare the baddest of the bad boys.”
At that moment, Candy and Lucy sidled over to their table. Ignoring the rest of the group, and apparently not caring that Gray’s arm was firmly around Topaz, Lucy crooned, “Hey, Surfer Dude. Where have you been? Candy and I haven’t seen you or been with you for ages!”
Bending over to ensure that her ample breasts were displayed to their best effect, her cohort agreed. “Yeah, S.D. How about it? We’re planning a party to end all parties and you, big guy, will be the guest of honor.” She added with a salacious smirk, “Make that dishonor…”
Gray grinned and shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. But I’m confident that my wife wouldn’t approve, would you, Princess?”
Topaz laughed and climbed up on Gray’s lap making sure that the brilliant ring on her left hand was obvious.
Diamond’s wide-eyed gasp was echoed by the two stunned women staring at Topaz.
Gray explained with a proud grin.
“Yeah, Col. Riley, I couldn’t wait. Unlike my wussy fellow agents, who are living in the purgatory of fiancé-land, I knew I couldn’t live another day without making Topaz my wife. We commandeered the Captain of our flight crew on the way home to marry us. Ian gave her away and Noah and Jase were my best men. Sapphire and Ruby did the honors for Topaz.”
Topaz tossed her head and said to Candy and Lucy, “Sorry, ladies. You’ll need to find some other stud to satisfy your needs. The Surfer Dude is going to be busy—very busy.”
She turned to Diamond and smiled.
“I have you to thank, Diamond. You saw something in me that I didn’t know existed. You not only took a chance on me, but you also kicked my ass and knocked me out of my protective shell. If you hadn’t done that, I don’t know how I could have had the confidence to respond to this amazing man. I thank you.”
Gray agreed. “We both thank you, Diamond.”
Turning to Ian, he shook his head. “Most of all, I thank you, Ian, for taking care of Maya for all of her life. You believed in her when no one else did, including me. And then, Boss Man, you stepped aside and let the most randiest, most profligate of your agents go after the woman you’ve protected all of her life. I owe you, Boss Man.”
Gray’s eyes moistened and he held Topaz even tighter as he gazed at his boss.
“I promise you, Ian, I will never let you or Maya down.”
After he’d gotten control of his shaky emotions, Gray laughed and looked from Diamond to Ian.
“Now, Boss Man, if you don’t mind me saying so, it’s high time you get your own house in order.” He hugged Topaz tighter and turned to his friends, “How about it, my fellow agents? Think it’s time that our formidable boss man gets his head out of his ass and joins the ranks of the pussy whipped?”
As their resounding cheer rang across the patio, Topaz shook her head in mock dismay.
“I don’t know, Gray. It’s going to take a mighty powerful ‘vibe’ to capture that elusive uncle of mine.”
Topaz looked from her haughty boss to her imperious uncle. She was delighted to see that they both were blushing.
She winked at Diamond and said with teasing smile, “But, then, if anyone has a vibe, it’s the woman who’s set the standard for us all.”
Gray’s hearty, “Amen to that!” was echoed by the rest of the team.
Copyright Information
Topaz
Copyright, 2015 by Taylor Lee
idesire publications
All rights reserved
Diamond
DIAMOND
Book 4
Ladies of the Night Series
By
Taylor Lee
Praise for Diamond…
“USA Today best-selling author Taylor Lee soars with Diamond; Book 4 in Lee’s provocative new series, Ladies of the Night. The Ladies are covert agents in a secretive, off the grid security organization. Highly trained fighters, they’re as gorgeous as they are dangerous to the evil men they’re hired to bring to justice. The only thing these formidable women are NOT is “ladies.”
Chapter 1
“I have a proposition for you, Diamond. How would you like to be my lover? For a limited time, obviously. Say for three—at the most four—weeks?”
Riley Davis stared at the much-too-handsome man, whose slate gray eyes were sparkling with amusement. Doing her best to keep her jackhammering heart from fracturing her chest wall, Riley forced herself to take a deep breath. Pretending to consider the impertinent ‘proposition’ from the man who’d already turned her life upside down, she said carefully, “I don’t understand. Can you be more specific, Col. Ross?”
Ian Ross grinned at her. “What don’t you understand, Col. Davis? The three-week timeframe? Or what being my lover entails?”
Determined to concentrate on their strictly business relationship rather than on Ian’s clearly teasing suggestion, Riley allowed herself to remember the first discussion she had with the imposing man now sitting across from her, his lip quirked up at the corner. Even to this day, a year after creating their partnership, Riley still marveled that she’d been gutsy enough to approach the formidable man. She knew that sheer desperation had given her courage to do the unthinkable. That was to ask Ian Ross, the most prominent financier in th
eir city, with connections along both coasts as well as internationally, to invest in her company. Or, more accurately, to invest in her.
When she was fired from the third consecutive undercover operation for what the company owner had the balls to call insubordination, Riley had had it. Knowing that she had nothing to lose, she threw a world class temper tantrum. Facing down the amazed owner, she’d berated him. Told him that if it was insubordinate to challenge some puffed up flyboy who wouldn’t know how to run an op unless someone tattooed step by step directions on his dick, she’d take insubordination any day of the week, and twice on Sunday. At least the surprised commander had the decency to laugh at her descriptive insult as he showed her out the door.
That night, fighting against her fears, Riley acknowledged that she had burned one bridge too many. The facts were clear: in a word, she was screwed. There wasn’t a security company in the country that would hire her. She had rebelliousness, and yes, insubordination, written all over her. The worst part was she had brought it on herself. It didn’t matter how many medals and ribbons decorated her Lt. Colonel’s uniform, or how many U. S. Army Generals sang her praises, even while they cautioned that she was a bit, well, ‘ornery’ and not given to taking orders well.
In the world of elite covert organizations that had their pick of eager ex-military agents, Riley had too much baggage for anyone to put up with her need to rewrite every operation to her exacting specifications, especially since she wasn’t in charge of those operations, indeed was supposed to play a ‘supportive’ role. Those agencies that did take a chance on her—after all she was a shrewd and impressively beautiful woman—made it clear afterwards that they regretted it. After firing her and swearing that they would never hire her again, they rubbed salt in the wound. They made sure every prestigious company they knew understood that Riley Davis was trouble with a capital T.
Attempting to drown out her certainty that she was about to become a bag lady if she couldn’t figure out how to make her skills pay off, she turned to her ever-ready companion, a bottle of scotch. It turned out to be an auspicious choice. After working her way through three quarters of a bottle of Ardbeg, Riley had a daring thought. If no one would hire her, even though they knew how qualified she was, why not simply hire herself? At least she appreciated her superior talents, and unlike her male counterparts she rather liked her admitted irascibility. In other words, why not start her own damn company?!
The next morning when a blinding headache was all that remained of the alcoholic haze, forming her own company seemed precisely as ludicrous as it actually was. Deep in the alcoholic glow the night before she had conceived the blueprint of her incipient enterprise. She’d even come up with a name for it. LOTN, Inc. or Ladies of the Night would be a woman-owned firm and hire only women. Riley loved the audacious play on words that Ladies of the Night implied. Virtually every op she’d been part of required her to play a slut and she was damn good at it, as were most of her female operative colleagues. So why not exploit the image that was already front and center among the companies that needed beautiful undercover agents? Hell, men, at least the ones she knew, thought that all women were whores anyway, so why not appeal to their prejudice and turn it to her professional advantage?
Riley convinced herself that if anyone could create a company that provided superlatively trained women operatives, she could. She knew the kind of women that high level missions required. She should. She was one of them. At base, the women needed to be accomplished fighters, the equal of the evil men they were after. They needed to know weapons from the ground up, and have the marksmanship awards to prove it. They would be smart, confident and worldly. And of course, it went without saying: they would also be beautiful and sexy as hell.
Interestingly she didn’t include on her list of required attributes the ability to follow orders. In any efficient organization that was a given, but Riley refused to make ‘obedience’ an explicitly stated criterion. She knew that the women had to be strong enough to hold their own with the dominant males they were sure to encounter. They would need to be assertive, and yes, opinionated. They would know that they were key to a successful operation, and claim that position. In other words, Riley wanted to create a firm that would have been thrilled to hire her.
She was confident she could sell the concept to the covert companies who were crying out for trained women. But she intended to be choosey. She’d make it clear from the inception that LOTN was highly selective. Her Ladies would only work with the best and for the best. The outrageous fees she intended to charge would make it clear, that if the hiring firms thought they were elite, they didn’t compare to the LOTN Ladies.
In the cold, dreary morning light, when even an icepack over her eyes and a double dose of Ibuprofen didn’t stop the throbbing pain that had her begging hangover gods for mercy, Riley came to grips with reality. She reluctantly admitted that while her idea was brilliant, and one that she was sure would work, it was nonetheless doomed to failure. She had inspiration and confidence up the wazoo. What she didn’t have were the critical ingredients that would make her audacious dream a reality.
The first necessity was money, lots of it. The second was entry into the elite group of stratospheric companies that ruled the covert world. Unfortunately she’d been fired from virtually all of them.
Refusing to give up on what she was confident was a brilliant concept, she acknowledged that she needed a backer. Riley combed the financial press and the internet looking for investors, particularly ones who were connected to the powerful individuals inhabiting her world. She approached the few security firm leaders who would still talk to her asking them how they’d funded their emerging organizations. The name that came up again and again was Ian Ross.
Ross was reported to dine frequently in the private dining room at the White House and lunched with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He was a familiar face in the halls of Congress and often golfed with the heads of the alphabet soup organizations that hired the anonymous covert firms to do the work that the government agencies could not. If anyone was a mover and shaker in political, military and corporate circles, it was Ian Ross. And, like Riley, the handsome playboy called Arizona his home, which made contacting him a real possibility.
Once she was confident that Ross was her man, Riley appealed to one of her least negative former generals to engineer a meeting with the superstar. Within days, to her surprise, she received a text message from Ian Ross himself, inviting her to dinner at Bigelow’s, a high end restaurant in a swanky part of town. As she prepared for the meeting, Riley nearly lost her nerve. For God’s sake, how many newspaper and internet stories did she have to read to know that the unbelievably handsome man was a player of repute? On the internet alone, a search for ‘Ian Ross and the women in his life’ pulled up a bevy of beauties from every corner of society. Movie stars, fashion models, and society princesses filled the roster. Clicking through countless photographs of Ross at one social event after another, the only consistent characteristic of his ‘companion of the moment’ was that all the women were stunningly beautiful and that each one was staring adoringly at the tall dark-haired man beside her.
On the night of the interview, after trying on the umpteenth outfit, Riley stared in despair at the heap of rejected clothing spewed across her bedroom floor. She finally conceded that she didn’t have a professional business suit in her wardrobe. Now if a slutty, ‘come hither’ ensemble was required, she had a closetful. But a tailored suit? Or a somewhat modest dress? Nada! She chided herself. God, why hadn’t she thought of this before? She could have bought something—or better yet cancelled the damn meeting. Sucking in a deep breath, Riley reminded herself that she was a retired Lt. Col. in the U.S Army and that she had faced down terrorists of every stripe—and survived. She added to herself with a snort of satisfaction that most of the bad guys hadn’t.
Glancing in the wall of mirrors decorating the entrance to the restaurant, Riley groaned. Damn, did he
r fire engine red dress really end six inches above her knee? Could it get any tighter, cling any more obviously to her hips and ass? Refusing to stare at her voluptuous breasts that seemed intent on escaping the low cut neckline of her dress, Riley admitted that her decision to look like the woman she usually played in her undercover operations had been a serious mistake. Accepting that, other than turning tail and running, there was nothing to do but face the man who held her professional fate in his hands.
Assuming that she was early and would have the opportunity to sit down and remember how to breathe before he arrived, Riley was horrified when a tuxedoed Maître’ D. approached her and indicated that Mr. Ross was waiting for her. Donning her most imperious expression she walked across what seemed like a fifty foot runway to the table where Ian Ross rose to his feet and greeted her with a pleasant smile. Trying not to stare at the sinfully handsome man, Riley did her best to smile in return.
“Ah, you must be Riley Davis.” He added with an amused glance at her dress, “At least I hope that you are.”
Pulling out her chair, Ian seated her and then moved to sit in the chair across from her. Riley noted nervously that all the adjacent tables were empty. Apparently Mr. Ross could even control who dined next to him. It was hard not to gawk at the impressive man. If anything he was even more handsome than the myriad photographs she’d studied. He was tall and had the sinewy build of a panther: sleek, slim, muscular. Riley saw military written all over him, but unlike the ex-military men she knew, Ross oozed wealth.
