by Stone, Lyn
“I have to wear this again tomorrow night, so don’t rip it off, okay?”
Cameron sat up and gave Tess the sweetest smile. “I have never in my life ripped clothes off a woman. Undressing is foreplay. Why miss out on that?”
His hand traveled up her leg, beneath the silken skirt and rested for a moment on her hip. One teasing finger slipped beneath the strap at the side of her thong. His lazy gaze never left hers.
Tess saw right into his mind in that instant as if he had opened up to her on purpose, an offering of trust, a gift. She saw raw anticipation. She saw all that he imagined they would do together. She saw need that stretched beyond the night. Tantalizing. And erotic.
Slowly he removed his hand from beneath the dress, caressing her leg as he began to lift the hem. When he drew it over her head and carefully laid it aside, Tess shivered with eagerness….
Dear Reader,
Here’s what happens when an idealistic, by-the-book agent with little experience meets a seasoned operative who has battled burnout, the bad guys and also the bureaucracy that put him in place. Cameron lost the last round, but has a second chance on all fronts if he chooses to accept the challenge.
The ability to adapt to the situation plays a crucial role in an undercover operative’s work. He or she often has to assume a persona that doesn’t quite fit. Is it possible, in the acting out of the part, to discover hidden corners of the personality that conceal unexpected traits? Tess and Cameron will find out. Surprises are in store as the op brings out the best and worst of both.
Perhaps The Big Reveal is just as well for two people falling head over heels against all the rules and their better judgment. Love will lay it all on the line in The Agent’s Proposition.
Join the ride. It’s bound to be wild!
LYN STONE
The Agent’s Proposition
Books by Lyn Stone
Silhouette Romantic Suspense
Beauty and the Badge #952
Live-In Lover #1055
A Royal Murder #1172
In Harm’s Way #1193
*Down to the Wire #1281
*Against the Wall #1295
*Under the Gun #1330
*Straight Through the Heart #1408
*From Mission to Marriage #1444
*Special Agent’s Seduction #1449
Kiss or Kill #1488
*The Doctor’s Mission #1534
*Claimed by the Secret Agent #1552
*The Agent’s Proposition #1592
LYN STONE
is a former artist who developed an early and avid interest in criminology while helping her husband study for his degree. His subsequent career in counterintelligence and his contacts in the field provided a built-in source for research in writing suspense. Their long and happy marriage provided firsthand knowledge of happily-ever-afters.
This book is dedicated to my good friend
Shauna Keenon, one courageous lady.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Prologue
McLean, Virginia
“Sir, why in the world would you want to hire this man for our team?” Tess Bradshaw demanded. “Look at this last performance appraisal!” She thumped the page for emphasis as she read aloud. “Employs unorthodox methods, ignores rules and regulations. I can see why the CIA branded him a rogue and forced him to resign.”
Jack Mercier shrugged. “We need him, at least temporarily. So convince him to come on board.”
Tess tossed the page on the desk, sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, shaking her head as she did. “Does he have any special abilities?”
Each of the agents on the SEXTANT and COMPASS teams had some edge that made them and the units special, like a photographic mind, a phenomenal ear for languages or psychic skills. Tess was an empath. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned Cochran’s lack of an edge, since her own wasn’t all that well honed yet. She was still amazed to find herself a member of a civilian special ops team specializing in counterintelligence.
“He’s a good hacker and extremely proficient at physically following up on what he finds. He’s excellent at infiltrating, adapting and anticipating. Also speaks three languages fluently. Not unusual for our teams, but remarkable enough.”
“Are we after the same group who threatened the Bulk Power System eighteen months ago? Could it be Al Qaeda?”
“Maybe. We do know they have detailed schematics for our power facilities. But this threat is virtually identical to the last one, when they cut the power for almost all the eastern seaboard. Cyber Security managed to override their control within a few hours, but this new threat is more sophisticated.”
“All the agencies are on this, I bet.”
“Working all fronts. The NSA tracked the origin of the e-mails to a general location but is unable to pinpoint the actual source. Maybe Cochran can zero in on it. He did last time and was ready to apprehend. The Company jumped the gun and botched his efforts, then shifted the blame to Cochran. I hope this chance for redemption will prompt Cochran to join us, at least for this op.”
“What if he’s bitter, or just not interested?” she asked.
“Then you will have failed your mission, Agent Bradshaw. Get him interested. We have only a week before the lights go out.” He handed her another file with the details of the earlier case and added a smaller folder of travel documents. “You’ll find him on Tybee Island on the Georgia coast.” He tapped the new folder with one finger. “His passport, credentials and a badge. Don’t let go of these unless he agrees to do this.”
“I’ll convince him,” she declared. Orders were orders. “Where will he be going on the op?”
Mercier stood up, her signal that the briefing was over. “The French Riviera. Better buy yourself a new bikini and some sunscreen when you land in Savannah.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’re going with him.”
Chapter 1
Tybee Island, Georgia
Cameron Cochran lounged on the deck of the Lucky Duck, his thirty-one-foot Morgan powerboat. Café Loco looked too busy for him to go over there for beer, and he was down to his last one.
He propped his bare feet on the rail and rubbed the surviving cold bottle of Dos Equis across the middle of his chest to cool off. It was damned hot for early October, even for Georgia.
In another few weeks he planned to knock off for the year. The fishing business was slow anyway. He hadn’t had the boat out of the creek and in open water for three days. A good many of the neighboring slips were empty today, but most of them advertised, did tours, catered to tourists. He took only small groups of two or three who seriously liked to fish.
Tomorrow’s client was late in coming by with the deposit, and he had a good mind to go ahead and leave. Might as well finish the beer. He took a swig and sighed.
Life was good here. He still had that feeling something was missing, though. Maybe the high he got when all his senses were revved and the safety was off. Maybe a little passion for what he was doing. Maybe a little passion, period.
Cameron grunted at the maudlin thought and took another swallow, enjoying the cool brew. He had it made. What fool wouldn’t love to be doing what he was doing, bunking on a sweet little craft and fishing for a living?
Most nights he didn’t even bother going
to the house. It was just a place to keep the stuff he didn’t have room for on the Duck.
A tapping sound caught his attention. Ah, that must be tomorrow’s fare, strutting down the dock in high heels and a skirt. He’d bet this one wouldn’t be baiting any hooks. She looked cute, though, in a tightly wound, bean-counter kind of way. The bigger outfits must be sending him the ones they didn’t want to fool with.
She had her little beige suit coat draped over one arm, and perspiration molded her bright blue slip top to her skin. Damp strands of dark blond hair had escaped the prim little bun and clung to her temples.
“Are you Cameron Cochran?” she asked, shielding her brow with her hand.
“Ms. Bradshaw.” He knew who she was. He recognized her voice from the phone call a few hours earlier. She had left a message, asking to meet with him at 2:00 p.m. It was almost three-thirty. “You’re late.”
“My flight was delayed. Weather,” she explained with an impatient shake of her head. “May I, uh, come on the boat?” She stood near the edge of the dock, eyeing the gentle lap of waves against the pilings. She looked worried.
“Take your shoes off,” he ordered. Reluctantly, he set down his beer and got up to help her board. Probably couldn’t make it by herself since her skirt was so slim-fitting. He finally just grabbed her by the waist and hefted her over and onto the deck.
She brushed his hands off as if he’d been handling fish. Cameron smiled down at her, enjoying himself. She was a pretty little thing and obviously way out of her comfort zone.
He stood back, hands on his hips. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll leave around six in the morning and go out about twenty miles. Depending on what we find, we should get a few sea bass, flounder, snapper or mackerel. If you feel adventurous, we could try for barracuda.”
“I didn’t come to fish,” she announced, straightening her skirt.
He glanced pointedly around the marina and back at her. “Well, honey, this is a fishing boat, and that’s about all I do. You want a tour, there’re boats for that.”
She held out her hand for him to shake. “I’m Agent Tess Bradshaw, and I work for SEXTANT. Our director, Special Agent Jack Mercier, sent me to offer you a position with our team. I know you worked for the CIA, so I’m sure you know who we are.”
Cameron froze, pinning her with a glare. She drew up to her full height of about five-four and glared back. “Look, I know that was direct, but I saw no point in engaging in a lot of small talk before delivering the offer. The pay is good, and you’ll have a chance to get at that hacker again. No interference this time and Mercier will have your file completely wiped of all the accusations made against you before you left the Company.”
“Get off my boat,” Cameron growled. All the bitterness he thought he’d conquered flooded back.
“Wait, please!”
“For what? I’m done.”
She cleared her throat and stepped away when he would have lifted her back onto the dock. “I could lose my job if you say no.”
“Good. You’ll be better off.” He reached for her again, but she dodged him.
“Listen to me, will you?” Wide-eyed, probably afraid of him, she backed up to the far rail, dropped her shoes and held on with both hands. “We need you. Your country needs you. There’s another threat to the B.P.S. The mitigating effort’s not working. They want money, or they’ll strike.”
He so didn’t want to get into this again. “One more hour and I would have had the man. The Company rushed in, screwed my mission, then blamed me when it failed.”
“Mercier knows that.”
Cameron didn’t care. “If they need a standby scapegoat this time, they can damn well find somebody else.”
“You got a raw deal. Mercier will rectify that if you’ll only help us out with this one mission. It’s one you worked on for nearly a year! Here’s your opportunity to make it happen your way. Take it, Cochran.”
“Tell him to fix my record, get me an official apology in writing and I’ll think about it.” Cameron would think, as promised, but he wouldn’t do. Her expression said she guessed as much. Smart cookie.
He sat back down in his chair and picked up his beer.
The persistent little devil didn’t budge. “We know where he is. He has been traced to a general area but has moved too much within it to be pinpointed precisely,” she told him. “Intel says he’s contacted the Department of Energy with a demand for millions. You know the government policy on extortion, so it’s only a matter of time….”
Cameron swiped his forehead with the side of his bottle, now too warm to do any good. “You have a location, so go in and throw a wide net.”
He hated the prickle of anticipation he was feeling. And the itch to participate, damn it. He wanted to so badly, he could taste it, despite the bitterness. Or maybe because of that. Would he ever have another chance like this to clear his name?
She held his gaze, probably knew she had him already, even as she spoke. “The evidence would disappear in a blink if we used a traditional approach. That’s what happened last time, right? Mercier says you’d be lead on the mission and we do things your way. And if you want employment with our team after we succeed, he will seriously consider it.”
Was it possible somebody actually believed he was innocent? Enough to hire him? In any case, they sure knew how to tempt him. “What’s with the we? Who else is on it?”
She dropped her gaze to her feet, then looked up at him through her lashes and frowned. “Me.”
Cameron laughed out loud. He stopped suddenly and sighed. “Who goes if I refuse? Just you?”
She shrugged and nodded.
Okay, there was his justification for sticking his head back in the noose. Damn it, he couldn’t let her try to handle this on her own. Young as she looked, she couldn’t have much experience.
This could prove really dangerous if it involved a serious criminal element and not just some greedy hacker testing his skills.
Her carefully blank expression and lack of any telling body language indicated she could be lying about taking this on by herself. But what if she wasn’t? Intel personnel had to be stretched pretty thin across the board these days with so many cuts in funding. They might send her out alone, thinking there would be little chance of physical danger involved.
“Please reconsider,” she said. “I know how much that last op cost you. Think about it, Cochran. Here’s your chance to turn that around.”
She couldn’t know all he had lost. That wouldn’t be in his record for her to read. Some things couldn’t be turned around no matter what he did. Like Brenda.
She had deserted him the minute she found out he’d been forced to leave the Company. Losing her was probably the only stroke of good fortune associated with his fall from grace, but at the time he hadn’t seen it that way. He had needed love and support. He had gotten a halfhearted apology and his ring back.
Even that was more than his family had offered. His dad, still disgruntled about Cameron’s career choice, had muttered a pointed “I told you so” and extended a grudging job offer. Cameron’s polite refusal had nearly cut all ties with his parents, but he could not see himself as an accountant making his bones in order to inherit Daddy’s firm eventually. This was his life, damn it.
Now even his mother thought he was a bum and wore a look of despair every time he visited. They lived less than ten miles away, and he, an only child and the black sheep, rarely saw either of them. His weekly call to check on their health and say hello was both bittersweet and excruciating.
Yeah, he had lost, all right, but he still had his self-respect and his independence. He made a fair living and answered to nobody. Could he give that up on the off chance he could prove he was a good agent? Even if he succeeded, who was left to care?
Who was he kidding? He cared. He damn well cared.
The sudden leap of hope made him furious with himself. And with her, for causing it. He hated the reminder of what he had once been and wha
t he was now. How many times had he dreamed of being called back, being needed to do what no other agent could, and of saying a nonchalant “no thanks” to the ones who had betrayed him?
Now he faced a decision, welcome revenge or a chance at redemption. What if he took the chance and failed? What if, again, they engineered his failure?
She watched him, her expression hopeful.
Even if he wanted to say yes, what could he do with his hands tied? “I can’t leave the country. The authorities lifted my papers and warned me not to.”
“Taken care of. Passport, badge and credentials, Everything you’ll need. You also get your CRYPTO clearance back. C’mon, you get carte blanche.”
Cameron put down the warm beer again and stood up. So much for his sense of self-preservation. He needed to ditch his pride and do this. Had to, and not just to keep her out of trouble, he admitted. There might never be another opportunity for him to set things straight. “I’ll need a few days to make arrangements for my business here.”
“I’m sorry, but this has a short fuse. We have to leave today. I’ll do whatever I can to help you get ready.” She was obviously grateful and relieved he was in, but the offer sounded a little stiff in spite of that. He suspected she hadn’t agreed with her boss’s orders to recruit him. She sure deserved a solid A for effort, though. She had set the hook and reeled him in.
That uptight attitude had to loosen up a little if they were going to get along at all. He grabbed the shirt hanging over the arm of his chair and pulled it on, then stepped into his deck shoes. “My car’s up at the café. Let’s go.”
