by Piper Stone
“I don’t think so,” she countered, terrified he could tell she was lying.
The director shifted his gaze toward Sophia. “Do you believe you were close to finding out the identity of The Player while you were in Monte Carlo?”
Her mouth was suddenly dry. “No, sir. As I stated in the report, there was no attempted hit. If this player is that good, don’t you think he would have hit his mark?”
Several others chuckled in the room.
The director gave her a stern look. “Knock it off, people. This is very serious. If there is a hit list, then we need to be prepared. This squad could be anywhere in the world at any time. We must keep our guard up. That’s it for now. You all have your assignments. When there’s any additional information, I’ll let you know.”
As they all walked out of the room, Sophia knew in her gut that she’d been the one who was played. The kind of anger she’d never experienced swelled from deep within. She would never forgive herself for letting her guard down. The single time in her life she’d followed her heart, she’d been screwed.
Now others could die.
Her mission was unlike anyone else’s. She would find the motherfucker and she would kill him herself. There would be no second guessing.
Chapter Eight
Four months later
Sophia’s entire world had gone to hell in a handbasket and she was headed in that direction. Her worst nightmares had been confirmed.
She’d lost her mind and was about to lose her credibility.
Wrath...
“You have to be kidding me,” Sophia said under her breath as she took a sharp turn, gritting her teeth as the tires skidded around the curve. This asshole was not getting away from her a third time. Over her dead ass body. They’d gotten additional information as the weeks went by, at least two more hits accredited to The Player. One in Dubai and one in the United States. The one in the States had been somewhat surprising, a man with a family, the local district attorney well known for his prosecution of the Miami mafia. The evidence supported that the attorney’s family had been lured away from the house prior to the hit being carried out perfectly.
Still, no one had been able to get a closer look at the assassin, but they had learned his name as well as a basic description from one of the informants. Wrath Constantino. There was no doubt in her mind who fit the basic description of dark and dangerous. She shuddered at the thought and the continued realization.
The day the man had been described, including his shaggy good looks and chilling emerald green eyes, she’d left work early, finding solace in a half bottle of tequila. She still had difficulty looking herself in the mirror. Wrath. The name suited him, the motherfucker.
Officer Pierre Renier had indeed existed, his body found almost six weeks before. The likeness of the two men was incredible. She hadn’t confessed to what had occurred on the two occasions, knowing that her job would have been terminated on the spot, the likelihood that she’d been indicted on several serious charges weighing heavily on her mind. Catching him was going to be her retribution.
Her revenge.
Although killing him in cold blood would never erase the memories or the dull ache in her heart.
They’d gotten several tips about the hit list, although several of them had led to dead ends. The Pentagon believed that the Dark Haven was throwing them off on purpose. Everything was a total mess within the FBI and the CIA. If it was any consolation, other countries were scrambling just as much, if not more as they anticipated blood in the streets. What did surprise her was the continued conscience of the assassin. They’d uncovered a second contract where he’d refused to have family members around during the hit.
She’d seen another side of Wrath, one who could have a certain amount of tenderness. Shit, she was actually thinking of him as anything but a cold-blooded killer.
But what if...
“Christ, partner. Are you fucking trying to kill us?”
She sneered at David, shaking her head. The man didn’t have the stomach for the chase. “I hope you have your seatbelt on because we are catching this motherfucker.” She could just make out The Player’s taillights in the darkness as he rounded a series of curves, driving with the skill of a racecar driver.
“Not if we die in a fiery crash,” David hissed and slapped his hand against the side of the passenger door, his body slamming against the panel as she jerked the wheel.
“We almost had him.” She wasn’t certain why she was bothering to even say the words. Catching the most infamous assassin in the world had proven to be treacherous. This time, his ass was going to end up behind bars no matter what she had to do.
Even breaking the law was a distinct possibility.
Snickering, she leaned over the steering wheel, maneuvering the car as if it was on rails. She was the expert driver of the two, not that it seemed to make a bit of difference. No matter what they did, the tips they’d been given during the arduous months, they hadn’t been able to get within ten miles of the elusive killer.
Until now.
The call had come out of the blue, anonymous and disguised.
She had the distinct feeling the assassin was goading her in particular, finding joy in the fact he’d duped her not once but twice.
Fuck. Him. If he was attempting to tie up loose ends, he’d get the surprise of his life.
“You’re not going to catch him,” David said as he darted a nasty look in her direction.
“Oh, yes, we will.” She sped up, going in excess of eighty. The fucker had gone into a blind curve, but there was no way out. None. “Hold on.” She careened around the excessive turn, her eyes opening wide immediately. “Oh, shit!” Slamming on the brakes, she held her breath as she temporarily lost control of the car, careening first headlong then sideways toward a tanker truck.
“Jesus. Mother. Mary. Of. God.”
Beep! Screech!
“Aaaaahhhh!” She let out a long groan as she struggled to keep the car on the road, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. The force of gravity threw her forward as the car swung into a complete three-sixty, her vision marred, yet images and vivid lights flashed in a rapid circle. Suddenly, everything was in slow motion.
Bam! Whoosh!
“Fuck!” David exclaimed.
Allowing a slow breath to escape, she dropped her head and slapped her hands against the steering wheel over and over again. “Goddamn it!”
“That was...”
“Ridiculous.” Giving her partner a sideways glance, she fumbled to get out of the car, almost tumbling onto the ground before taking off running, heading in the direction of where the other car had gone. When she moved to a crest, a slight hill, she stopped and scanned the perimeter, wiping sweat from her brow, her words muttered under her breath. “You asshole. I will get you.”
David lumbered to her side, huffing as he slapped his hands on his hips. “You could have killed us and for what?”
The answer was easy.
To catch her nemesis and her lover, the single fugitive who’d gotten away from her.
Again.
Sophia remained silent as she squinted and even in the shadows, the ominous darkness, she could feel his presence. He was watching her. The cat and mouse exploit had turned into a game of chess. And he anticipated her every move. He’d found a way into her mind during heated sex, finding out just enough about the way she reacted to give him some insane advantage. “I will hunt you down.”
“You’re consumed by this,” David scoffed and paced back and forth. “I’m calling it in.”
She didn’t answer. There were no words to say. Wrath Constantino was in the wind, no doubt murdering his target in cold blood. All for the sake of blood money, revenge. Remaining where she was, she continued to seethe, her blood pressure skyrocketing. She thought about the eloquent Italian, a man the majority of women would call roguish, sexy. Yeah, he had a way about him; deep green eyes the color of new leaves in springtime, shoulder-len
gth ebony hair begging to have a woman’s fingers running through the long strands. A body she knew was chiseled to perfection under his expensive tailored clothes.
A shiver trickled down from her pensive shoulders to the small of her back, sliding directly into her quivering pussy.
“You belong to me and you always will,” he whispered as he slid his hand down the inside of her thigh. “And I’m going to eat you for hours.”
She could still hear his husky voice, the seductive tone always making her quiver. What in the hell was wrong with her?
Groaning, she pressed the back of her hand over her mouth and clenched her legs shut, trying to abate juice from soaking her lace panties. Yeah, the man turned her on with his dominating ways and sensual swagger. How many sinful dreams had she endured with the man controlling her every move, requiring her complete submission? Swallowing, she shook away the thought. No man was ever going to dictate her life.
But he already did. He claimed you in every manner and you hunger for more.
The little voice inside her head was driving her crazy, rattling her in every manner.
Hearing David clearing his throat, she turned in his direction. “What?”
“Well, partner, the chase didn’t matter in the least. The local police found his target. Shot between the eyes.”
* * *
Wrath swung around the curve, pulling the Ferrari into the garage, waiting until the door closed before exiting. He grabbed his briefcase and headed inside, moving into the kitchen. “Alexa, lights on.”
The warming glow illuminated the graphite steel appliances, the chipped specks of glass inside the granite counters. He slid the case onto the island before grabbing a glass out of the cabinet, pulling the bottle of scotch closer. The chef’s kitchen was remarkable in both design as well as equipment, but he hadn’t rented the exclusive space in order to cook. This was merely the most expensive as well as secure location on the island. There were no close neighbors, which meant no prying eyes. For that he’d paid a pretty penny, but it was worth every dime.
Complete anonymity was vital in his line of work. He’d certainly learned that the hard way the last time he’d been in Florida. The realization that his instincts had been correct and that one of the hired guns of the consortium had followed him had been eye-opening. That had initially confirmed his reasoning for staying away from Sophia altogether, protecting her from the Dark Haven.
And now?
Fate had intervened once again.
He growled as he took his drink, heading out onto the patio, gazing out at the lagoon-style pool. The sound of the waterfall, the trickling water was comforting, the LED lights providing a sensual ambiance. Inhaling, he could just detect a hint of the ocean given the light wind blowing from across the bay. What a beautiful setting for seduction. A groan filtered from his mouth. He was hungry, and his desire had nothing to do with food.
Sophia.
He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind during the last four months no matter how hard he’d tried. Booze did nothing. Women? Boring. Gambling held no level of excitement. Even getting back into the full swing of his given profession hadn’t provided the heightened adrenaline he was used to.
He was also exhausted, more from the recent flight from Milan than the events of the evening. However, the near run-in with the lovely agent had certainly been unexpected. She was getting too close or perhaps he was merely getting careless. Either way, he had to determine a course of action and the only way to do so was to meet her face to face. He’d even left a calling card this time, something he hadn’t necessarily planned, but the last-minute thought had been a test of sorts for the lovely woman.
Along with the anonymous tip.
And she’d taken the bait.
Freud would have a field day with his break in tradition. Was his subconscious inclined to being caught, thereby ending being an indentured servant to the consortium? Anything was possible at this point.
He chuckled and took a sip of his drink. This particular assignment had been planned to test his loyalty to the consortium. He was certain of it. Tasked by the Dark Haven leader himself to take over every one of the planned requirements in the United States, Wrath had been sent to Florida with more than one purpose in mind.
He’d gone silent after tasking the other assassins, the assignments meant to cut certain ties and eradicate loose ends. The end game must be near.
The last conversation with his father had been eye-opening, Benedetto revealing that one of the consortium members was dying. Alessandro was almost eighty-five, his only living son still incarcerated in some third world prison and no grandchildren to date. That meant one of the sons of the remaining leaders would be selected to take Alessandro’s place. And of course, Benedetto had already spoken up for Wrath, a selection that hadn’t been met with acceptance.
Several believed Wrath was a traitor, incapable of replicating Alessandro’s leadership. Wrath was on the fence, his desire to remain in the heat of action still in the forefront of his mind. However, the change would allow him the opportunity at settling down and raising a family.
Yet another round of irony. Six months ago he would have laughed in his father’s face. Now? The thought was appealing in ways that startled him.
But not with an arranged marriage.
Wrath thought it interesting that his father had never asked about Sophia, even though every member of the consortium knew not only of her existence, but of her time spent with Wrath. The test was real. The consequences harsh.
If she didn’t abide by Wrath’s rules. This was risky but necessary.
He needed to simply do his job. If he followed orders, eliminating the targeted marks, he could have a fortune at his fingertips and the kind of power that few men ever achieved. Failing wasn’t an option in his father’s mind.
The weight was heavy indeed.
The choice between happiness or wealth and power was formidable, but his adoration of Sophia was not to be denied. Anger rushed through him and he slammed his fist into the wall, cursing under his breath. The hole would be a reminder to keep his head clear.
Leaving the door open, he walked to his study, easing down in front of the laptop. Within a few keystrokes, he was connected to a specialized secure site, allowing him access to significant private information. He’d easily found out what she and her partner had been assigned to after the second time he’d encountered both of them by accident. He had no interest in the male, who seemed more like a sidekick than an agent. If the man became an interference, he’d eliminate him. As far as Sophia, he had lurid and very salacious thoughts for the curvy redhead. He’d finally been forced to reckon with her level of skill, something he’d ignored during their tryst.
Wrath swirled his index finger around the rim of his glass before taking a sip, concentrating on the vivid images in front of him. Sophia had a wicked smile, full lips with a slight curve. Her eyes were penetrating, as if looking through a reflection and into his soul. Even the way she held her gun, an older Glock, meant she’d been well trained, but there was an edge about her in every one of her mannerisms.
What he’d only minimally picked up before was that the girl had a horrid history of some kind, pushing her into stretching her boundaries. Their conversations had been brief, both of them skirting around the truth, but she’d held an air of sadness, similar to his own. He maneuvered his way through the basic information, including her address and phone number, the dollar amount in her bank account and her credit history.
The details were average and almost nothing had changed, but he’d gathered a sense about her from everything they’d shared months before. She was hiding from herself, a past she couldn’t stand remembering. Her body’s reaction to him, her tight nipples and scattered breath sounds would forever remain in the forefront of his mind. Then there was his reaction. He chuckled and held the glass to his head.
The hard-on had lasted for quite a while after the last time they’d been together. For al
l the posturing, he’d also witnessed a particular look in her eyes that held the absolute truth. There’d been no denying her longing, embracing the phrase he’d used as he backed away. She hadn’t tried to follow, which didn’t surprise him but there would always be a level of disappointment.
She was a born submissive.
He was a natural dominant with a penchant for beautiful women.
Together, they were explosive as fuck, a dangerous combination.
“Hmmm...” His cock was aching, thick and swollen. Every time he thought about the lovely Sophia, he had the same craving. What was he going to do about the agent? He had work to do, a tight schedule to fill, and other requirements that would take him in another direction within a few short days. He rubbed his hand against his crotch. She certainly wasn’t going to succumb to his needs or his bed by choice after his disappearance. Or was she?
What was she really about? He sighed, remembering the picture of the Golden Retriever and her almost animated lie regarding owning a bakery. There’d been a part of him that had been serious about leaving his past and working beside her. He was completely disillusioned with the consortium and their demands.
Fuck. He wanted more out of life. The reason for his change in demeanor? One feisty woman.
Were his instincts regarding her on point or was he losing his touch? Shifting in his seat, he eased his drink onto the desk then switched to the internet. He had various methods of finding every detail about her, no matter no insignificant. There was no paper written in college, no picture shared on Facebook that he couldn’t find. He studied her various profiles. The woman was very guarded; almost no information about her private life. Either her accounts had been scrubbed or she was a very private woman. Even FBI agents had a personal life.
However, he would find more.
Growing weary of searching, he moved to one last site, expecting to find nothing worthwhile. When he noticed a string of entries, he inched closer to the computer. While she’d attempted to hide her identity, he was able to connect IP addresses with ease. He was quite surprised at the find, his cock twitching to the point he was forced to adjust his pants.
