The Obsidian Collection

by Rebel Adams

  “Please. Bourbon. Straight.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. A genius, thief and a drinker? Kent may have finally met his match. He shouldn’t be surprised. The circles they ran in played hard. It was one of the perks of the job.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip and relishing the slight burn down her throat. “God, I’m always so pumped up at the end of a job.”

  “And this one isn’t even quite finished.” He walked across the room, pushing back the heavy white curtain that separated the bed from the rest of the room. Stripping off his shirt, he revealed a well-toned, impressive physique. Kent tossed the black shirt into a basket in the corner and reached for a new one in the closet.

  Spotting an elaborate design on his shoulder and upper bicep, Maya took a step forward. “Nice ink.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can I see?” she asked. “I have six. I can’t stop.”

  He turned his back to her and she walked over, allowing her take in the full ink. Maya straightaway noticed the quality. There was the definitive outline of a skull, surrounded by smaller, intricate details. She attempted to touch his arm, but he pulled back, her wrist caught in his. “Ah, I showed you mine; you show me yours.”

  Noticing the heat of his hand, she found herself staring at his chest and concentrated on the way his chest heaved a little more than necessary. Up close, she saw the thin layer of stubble coating his jaw and how it made his chin look sharper. Gently, she eased her wrist out of his grasp before taking her hem into her hands and pulling her long-sleeved T-shirt over her head. Kent’s expression remained stoic at seeing her in nothing but a black lace bra. She was impressed by controlled expression; it was a commendation to his ability to con. Maya’s breasts were her best physical attribute. Very big and very real. His only reaction was the increased rise and fall of his chest and his right hand clenching into a tight fist.

  “This is my most recent.” She pointed out an inscription circling her wrist in tiny letters. She lowered the hem of her pants, revealing a star on each hipbone. His eyes flick downward, but followed her hand as it trailed away from the star and up her lean stomach and settling in the valley between her breasts. Tugging on the lace, Maya revealed three small birds etched on the inside of her breasts. “Then these.”

  Kent stared so hard she squirmed like he had x-ray vision. Red flared under her smooth brown cheeks and it was all he could do not to kiss her. A fine line of sweat appeared on his forehead and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “And the other two?”

  Maya moves forward, barely inches apart and rested a hand on his chest. “Give me fifty-percent on the car and I’ll show you the other two.”

  “Even now, you think about money?”

  “Certain things make me hot, Kent.” She grazed her chest with his. “Hacking into a multi-million dollar security system, the thrill of getting away and money.”

  “Money,” he repeated.

  “Cold. Hard. Cash.”

  “I can help with one of those things.” He bent down and captured her lips with his own, kissing her deep. Fingers hooked in her waistband, he said, “And some other things too.”

  Maya replied with her hands, adeptly unbuckling his belt and unfastening the button on his pants. With two hands, she yanked them to his knees and pushed him back on the bed. Kent’s dazed for a moment, happily surprised at her forcefulness. He loved a powerful woman, especially when it came out in his favor. She stripped above him, releasing her fantastic breasts, the ones that almost left him undone moments before. He scanned her body for the remaining tattoos but can’t find them.

  “Turn around,” he demanded. He splayed his hands across her backside. Still there was nothing but more alluring, smooth brown skin.

  “You’ll have to look harder,” she said, twisting back to face him. There was a challenging glimmer in her eyes that pushed Kent too far. He’d had enough. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tossed her on the bed before climbing on top of her naked body. When his hands touched her waist, she laughed, squirming under his fingers. He couldn’t help but smile in return and began his exploration, covering each inch of her body with his hands and mouth.

  He was about to give up on finding tattoos and content himself with screwing her senseless, but nothing intrigued Kent more than a mystery. He ran his hands down her long legs, checking her ankles and behind her knees. Nothing. Confused, he paused for a moment, before realizing there was only one place he hadn’t looked. He blazed a trail back up her body, nipping with his teeth along the way. Her fingers rested at the top of her thighs, a clue he missed earlier.

  “Spread for me,” he directed, nudging the inside of her knee. Her legs obliged, falling apart, revealing the secret to the hidden tattoos. Two words in a language he can’t read guarded the entrance to her most sacred, holy place. He ghosted his fingers over the letters and licked his lips. “What do they say?”

  Propped on her elbows, she replied, “I’ll tell you if you earn the right to the answer.”

  Passion flared in his chest. No woman had ever demanded so much from him. No woman had ever dared. But this woman, Maya Clarke, was different. She’d proved to be his equal in wit and conniving. For the first time, Kent submitted to a desire to prove himself. That he was worthy.

  Kent kissed her breasts, throat and mouth. He kissed her tattoos, sucking on each one, including the two between her legs. Maya beckoned him with a finger and he crawled up her body. Nose to nose, they fell into one another until at last, with a sense of feverish relief, their bodies united as one. Slick with sweat, they slammed into one another, high on adrenaline and lust. Maya’s dark hair unloosened from its tie and fanned out across the pillow, framing her head like a dark angel. Eyes closed and cheeks flushed, she dragged her nails down Kent’s back, marking his body. For a brief moment, he considered what it would be like for a woman like Maya to be his.

  He couldn’t stop watching her—every part of her from her long lashes to her perfect bouncing breasts. Her stomach tensed and her nails dug deeper, causing him to gasp in delighted pain. Maya’s shallow breaths grew faster, deeper, and soon she groaned—clenching her hips against his.

  With a final thrust, Kent released his own guttural moan along with everything built up, before collapsing onto his elbows. “Damn,” he said. She brushed a stray, sweaty hair out of his eyes. He rolled away for a moment and said over his shoulder, “You’re fucking incredible.”

  “Mmmhmmm,” she purred in reply, hand draped across her belly.

  Kent crawled back to her, immediately pushing her legs apart and stroking the tattoos. He loved a mystery and he’d tirelessly pursue an answer like a dog with a bone. “Tell me,” he said, confident he’d paid the asking price.

  Maya’s hand traveled up and down her skin, igniting a longing in his chest. This, he could get used to. “What do you say when you’ve been given a gift?”

  He tilted his head and frowned. “Thank you?”

  She rested a hand on her right leg and traced a finger over the letters. “You’re,” she said, lips quirked in a teasing smile. She then moved to the other side. “Welcome.”

  He looked at the woman in his bed, smug with satisfaction. Her confidence in the field and in bed rattled him to the core. He knew in that moment he could never possess this woman. This dark angel of mystery and delight. As though she could read his mind, Maya rolled over and straddled his hips, pressing her inner thighs against his outer ones, dipping her body against his and getting a rise of him again.

  No, Kent could never possess Maya, but he’d allow her to possess him, even if for just a little while longer.

  A row of weapons line the coffee table. Various guns, knives and explosives make up the majority. Three laptops and an assortment of other electronics, including three synched watches created by Maya, sit on the desk. She holds up a pistol and lines it up with a vase across the room.

  “Bang.”

  “Let’s not kill anyone, please,” Queen requests, nev
er looking up from the computer screen.

  Kent glances up from the knife he’s cleaning. “You may be in the wrong line of business for moral dilemmas.”

  “It’s not really a moral thing. Death just makes more paperwork for me.” A chirping sound comes from the computer and he says, “A call is coming in from Agent Carson.”

  Maya walks over and stands behind Queen, while Kent stays put, intent on making his knife gleam. Agent Carson’s face appears on the screen. “Good, I’ve caught you in time. We’ve had a slight change in plans.”

  “What kind of change?” Maya asks, looking at Kent who has stopped his furious cleaning.

  “We’ve had some intel and have determined breaking into the building is too risky with the fundraiser going on tonight. Security has been tripled for the party, and according to logistic reports, there’s no way you can get past the perimeter guards.”

  Kent snorts, “I’m sure we can handle it.”

  “What do you want us to do? Try again tomorrow?” Maya asks. This is not part of the plan, either plan, and with each passing moment, she feels increasingly uneasy.

  “No, I’d like you to consider an alternate plan for this evening.”

  Kent stands up and walks to where he can see Agent Carson on the screen. “What kind of alternative?”

  A loud knock on the door interrupts their conversation and all three members of the team reach for a gun. “Oh, that’s just something I sent up to help you prepare. I’ll wait while you open the door.”

  Maya and Kent take defensive stances, weapons drawn. This could be the moment where their trust in the government comes to an end. It could be a set up—bringing either of them down for a variety of crimes.

  “What the hell did you tell him last night?” Kent whispers when Queen goes to the door.

  “I didn’t tell him anything!”

  “No? Nothing came out when you were fucking him last night? No thief-to-agent pillow talk? No funny stories to tell?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Don’t be an ass. Of course I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Why because your mouth was too busy?”

  “Shut. Up.”

  The door swings open and a bell hop waits in the hallway. “These were sent to the front desk.”

  He hands Queen two large garment bags and waits patiently for a tip. Queen digs around in his pocket and hands him some coins. “Grazie,” he says before closing the door.

  “What are those?” Maya asks Carson.

  “Clothing for tonight. I think you’ll find everything you need.”

  Kent and Maya stare at Queen as he unzips the first garment bag and reveals a tuxedo.

  “No,” Kent says.

  Maya also declares a fast, “No way.”

  “Yes, you’ll gain entrance to the house as guests of the party. I’ve procured invitations. Agent Queen, please put me on a private secure line so I can explain the rest of the details.”

  Queen does as he’s told. He pauses only to hand the tuxedo to Kent and gives the unopened bag to Maya.

  “This is ridiculous,” she says.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it will be fun.”

  She sighs. “You’re only saying that because I hate the idea.”

  “Maybe,” he replies, a smirk on his lips. “You better start figuring out where you’re going to hide a gun in whatever get-up they sent you.”

  “You’re always so worried about me, maybe it’s time you focused on yourself a little,” Maya says, leaving Kent and his monkey suit for her room.

  “So you found a place for your gun?” Kent asks. He and Maya sit in the back of a traditional limo. He hasn’t stopped watching her every move since she appeared from her bedroom, looking like a dream. His dream. The car rolls carefully up to the seaside mansion that clings to the cliffs of Portofino.

  “Plus a knife and flash grenade,” she replies.

  Kent looks her up and down, trying to figure out where they’re hidden. “And you can get to them easily? Or do you plan on having some help? As your escort, I’m happy to oblige.”

  “Stop being a pervert.” Maya lifts the flouncy cream skirt to reveal a thigh holster where the ruffles begin. Not that she’s not being a pervert on her own. Kent’s tuxedo is a dark blue and exquisitely tailored, fitting him like a glove. A glove Maya would like to peel off one finger at a time.

  Kent runs his hand up her leg and tests the holster. “Just making sure it’s secure.”

  She bats his hand away and adjusts the hem. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

  “You think you’re ready for this?” he asks. She refuses to answer, instead checking her purse for the tenth time. There’s nothing in it but her phone and a tube of lipstick.

  “Don’t smudge your fingertips,” Queen says from the driver’s seat. They’re both wearing a thin layer of latex over their pointer fingers. Security is very tight at the party.

  “Yes, Princess. Did you hear that?” Kent taunts, holding up the invitation. Agent Carson secured a royal invitation to the party, where Maya must play the role of an aristocrat, even if it is from a tiny island in the Caribbean that no one has ever heard of before.

  “It’s not my fault the FBI decided I should play the role of princess tonight and get us into the party. Anyway, the role of body guard suits you.”

  He pins her with a hard look. “Protecting your body? Any time, Maya.”

  Queen draws their attention again. “A final reminder. Do not take off the tracker. Without it, I won’t be able to get you or the painting out of there.”

  Maya and Kent exchange a look. Neither are pleased about the tracker Queen secured behind their ears. The tiny patch looks like flesh. Queen insisted on the trackers; the FBI wanting to over their asses, after hiring two well-known and wanted thieves, was a risk. “We won’t,” Maya says. “We’ll meet you at the exit point in ninety minutes.”

  “Let’s make it sixty,” Kent says. “I’d like to find Gina before it gets too late.”

  “Whore,” Maya mutters under her breath.

  “Pot meet kettle.”

  “I wasn’t talking about her.”

  “Show time,” Queen says. “You two play nice. You’re at this event together. You like each other.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Maya declares. “Unlike Kent, it’s hard for me to fake my affections for people.” She ignores the look on both men’s faces. Queen’s forehead furrows, the events of last night running through his mind. Kent? Well, he just looks angry as usual. As if Maya was the one who hurt him.

  Queen disappears behind the partition separating the front and back seats of the limousine. The car winds through the gates of a magnificent mansion, located on the edge of the sheer cliffs that overlooked the water.

  “It’s beautiful,” Maya says, unable to look away from the view. The car stops and the door swings open. A concierge in formal attire offers his hand in assistance. She smiles in surprise, unaccustomed to the attention. “Thank you.”

  She’s only alone for a heartbeat. Kent appears smoothly at her side, linking his arm with hers. They pass through the scanners, pressing their fingers on a state-of-the-art identification system. Kent lays his gun on the security table, while she’s waved through. Idiots, she thinks. Their sexism will be their downfall. Within minutes, Kent’s back by her side sipping from a glass of champagne. “Where the hell did you get that?” she whispers, working the sticky “fingerprint” residue from her fingers.

  “It’s like they find me. My hand is empty and a new glass appears.” He deposits the empty glass on a passing tray and removes two more. “See? Magic.”

  She takes one of the glasses and uses it as a pretense to appear busy. “There’s a shit ton of security in here.” Continuing to scan the room, Maya murmurs quietly to Kent, “There’s the door to the back hallway. It should lead us past the library to the art room.”

  “Sweetheart,” he says, giving her a lazy, stomach-dropping smile. “Take a breath. We’ve got time. Enjoy yourself.
Have a drink. Eat some of those delicious looking stuffed mushrooms.”

  Maya opens her mouth to argue but she snaps it shut. Kent’s right. They should look like they’re enjoying themselves to avoid suspicion. She sips the fruity drink. “Fine. Twenty minutes.”

  Kent ushers her through the entry way and out the back door to the balcony overlooking the water.

  “A guy could get used to living a life like this.”

  “Like you can’t afford it.” She raises her brows at him. “If you like it so much, why not retire?”

  She expects a snarky retort but his forehead creases with a fine line as he considers her question. “Retirement would bore me.”

  “Really? You could have a harem of beautiful women, a loaded bar and servants taking care of you all the time.”

  As if on cue, a waiter walks by and refreshes their drinks. Kent raises his in a toast and smiles. “Drinks and a full staff catering to my whims. I’ve got everything I need, plus a little adventure,” he says with flair and an easy smile.

  “Ah, but harem and no castle.”

  “I’ve got a dozen castles around the world. And contrary to popular belief, I don’t need a harem.” His eyes rake down Maya’s body. “A princess maybe. But no harem.”

  Despite her clothing and the weapons secured on her body, Kent has a way of making Maya feel naked and exposed. The late evening sunlight glints off Kent’s blue-black hair and she’s drawn, once again, to his magnetism. No, she tells herself. She will not fall for his looks and smooth talk. Not again. “You know, I’d never be satisfied as merely a princess.”

  He shakes his head and looks out over the water. “No, I suppose not. Equal or nothing for you, right?”

  “I’m an all or nothing kind of woman, Kent.”

  Heavy air hung between them, regardless of the salty breeze. Kent can’t—no won’t—look her in the eye. The way he left her after their last encounter ruined everything between them. He’s not one for apologies, but he tastes the bitter words building on his tongue.

  Maya doesn’t give him the chance. “Why did you do it?” His broad shoulders lift in a noncommittal shrug, but she’s not satisfied. Not this time. “Three times,” she says. “I let you fuck me three times, not to mention the fact I saved your ass in that garage and didn’t turn you in after it was over.”