Chapter 1
Daria
The cab pulled up to the museum: it was time to get this party started. I double-checked my makeup in the rearview mirror to make sure everything was in order. My heart raced inside my chest, and I was certain that if the cab driver cared to look, he could see it pounding along the vein in my neck. I was an old hand at this. I had done a million missions just like this one, but nerves still struck me right before; every single time.
This was different. I had no backup, no eye in the sky, or voice in my ear to help me. I was completely alone, and on top of that, death threats had been ruining my sleep. I bit my lush, red-painted lips as I contemplated for one crazy second whether I should go through with this.
Things would be simpler if I backed off. If I abandoned this rogue mission I’d conceived to find the evidence I needed. Then I remembered my friend Stella andhercrazy mission and decided that I owed it to her to see this through. Besides, the public deserved to know what was going on.
The car rolled to a stop, and it was now or never. Should I get out or tell my driver to move on? They were letting cars drop off their passengers one at a time; they wouldn’t let me linger for long. Several more cars were behind us, waiting their turn, and many were limousines. The rich and powerful didn’t like to be kept waiting.
With a deep breath, I smiled at the uniformed valet attendant who opened my door. “Welcome to the New Year’s ball, miss,” the young man said politely. Not so politely, his gaze dropped lower, lingering on the cleavage visible above my dress’s sweetheart neckline.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile, pleased that the killer dress was doing exactly what it was meant to do: serve as the perfect distraction. My nerves vanished like snow before the sun; my spine straightened, my shoulders loosened. I had this—I always did. I would go in there and stun my Four-Star General. He’d never notice that I was there to steal sensitive information.
My heels clacked gently over the sounds of the city as I ascended the stairs to the grand entrance. This party was invite-only, but I’d managed to wrangle one from one of my many contacts. Located in the beautiful, grand West Building of the National Gallery of Art in D.C., it catered only to the rich and powerful. I wasn’t technically either, but I’d mingled in those circles often enough that nobody would question my presence.
A senator and his wife were on the steps ahead of me, and the woman, a prominent figure in several charities, greeted me warmly when she saw me. We exchanged a few quick words, but I knew not to linger when husband and wife were side by side. Not if I wanted to maintain a good relationship with both.
“You must be cold in that dashing dress, Cathrine,” I said to the woman. “Though that Hermès wrap is probably divine and warm, isn’t it?” My words made her beam, and we exchanged a few more comments about fashion as we continued up the steps and into the museum.
We got separated when our invitations were scrutinized by a pair of impressive security guards. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched the senator and his wife sail into the New Year’s party ahead of me.
My spine tingled when I brought my wrap to the cloakroom, a sure sign that eyes were on me. Eyes of the male variety, and if I wasn’t mistaken, a gaze of admiration. I drew that response all the time, and I made the extra effort for it on occasions like these. Men dropped their guard around a pretty woman. It worked without fail.
I turned slowly, letting my carefully styled soft curls slide seductively across my bare shoulders as I met the gaze of my admirer across the hall. I didn’t know this man, and that was surprising because I had familiarized myself with every person on the guest list before arriving. He might be a plus-one to a rich heir or debutante, one of the few not listed by name. It happened—though rarely, because these events were always preceded by thorough background checks.
Our eyes met, his a silky, vibrant gray that held a heated, appreciative gleam. Thick, luscious blonde locks curled around his face, hiding the tips of his ears. His shoulders were dauntingly wide, encased in a tailored tuxedo. That was a man who was both shockingly pretty and lethal at the same time. I recognized the way he moved in an instant: he was a soldier, through and through. Interesting. Was he an extra undercover guard? Protection for the general I was after?
His mouth curved into a slow grin, gray eyes sliding from my face down along my body in a blatant perusal. He wasn’t shy about showing his interest, and he managed it from two dozenfeet away. That stare made heat wash over my skin, my cheeks warming in what almost amounted to a blush. I didn’t know I could still blush, I hadn’t since my teenage years.
I didn’t have time for flirtations. I couldn’t lose focus on the target, and having another man vying for my attention was the last thing I needed right now. And yet… there was a sashay in my step as I crossed the distance to where my soldier in a tux was standing.
He had picked a good spot, not quite part of the festivities going on further inside the museum, but close enough to see what was happening. He could also see any new arrivals. This guy was keeping a sharp eye on things. Maybe he merited more than just some harmless flirting; perhaps he needed investigating.
“Hi there,” I drawled in my best bedroom voice, cocking a hip as I stopped in front of him, striking a pose that I knew put all my best assets on display. I’d captured his attention, all of it. His vibrant gray eyes were ringed with a hint of darkness, but his hair was golden and shiny. That stare was intense, locking onto me like a predator. I was used to being the hunter, but this time I definitely felt more like prey.
“Hello,” he said, and my body responded instantly. My nipples perked beneath the silk fabric of my dress, my belly clenched, and I had to fight the urge to reach up and tuck my hair behind my ear. I was above that kind of fidgeting, normally, but his voice was pure sin: low, dark, with a hint of gravel that put a woman’s mind straight on bed play and little else.
“You’re an unfamiliar face,” I said, stepping a little closer so I could breathe in his cologne, something subtle and exotic.“I thought I knew all the guests. What’s your name?” It was tempting to reach over and place my hand casually on his chest. His presence felt that familiar to me. I wanted to get closer to him, not just because I was trying to find out who he was and why he was here.
The soldier in a tux smiled, his arms rippling as he uncrossed them from his chest and let them rest casually at his sides. It was a subtle invitation for me to stay close, to let down my guard. “You, darling, may call me Ian. And what’s your name?” He cocked his head as the words left his mouth, golden waves brushing his brow, almost falling into his eyes. That was not regulation-length hair, so if he was a soldier, he wasn’t meant to look like one, or maybe he was ex-military. My friend Pike was like that, all long-haired and shaggy now that he was out.
Heat curled in my belly as I contemplated what to say, what to reveal. In the end, my name fell from my lips easily, as if it was no hardship to share it with this stranger. I was always guarded, and everyone here knew me as Daria anyway, so it was the only sensible response. And still... I had to watch myself around this man, or I’d end up making a dangerous mistake.
“Daria,” I drawled, “Daria Marcus. But my friends call me Dar for short,” I added. That was the fatal blow to my objectivity, revealing something as personal as my nickname. My hand touched his chest, like I’d fought against earlier. Another battle lost. Heat scorched my fingers through his black coat and starched white shirt, and beneath that fabric, power and strength were barely contained by the civilized packaging.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Daria,” he said, his chin dropping as he inclined his head my way. He smiled, slow, wide, and utterlydevastating. “Maybe I’ll just keep calling you Darling then. What do you think?” The joke made me smile, but the invitation in his eyes made my blood turn molten. I had to get away from him, now! I’d never complete my mission if I didn’t get my head on straight. He’d have to be a mystery to unravel later.
“Sure, Ian,” I said, injecting a hint of suspicion into my tone. I didn’t believe for one minute that was his real name. My touch on his chest had revealed more than just my scorching attraction to him or the powerful muscles packed onto his frame. I’d gotten close enough to glance beneath that tuxedo jacket and had spotted the telltale bulge of a gun.
I strutted away with my heart pounding in my throat, my neck clammy with sweat, and heat still flushing through my system. I needed to focus; I needed to cozy up to the rich and locate my general. The pin on the general’s lapel was my target. The data on it key to the fight I wanted to end before it started. No dancing, no flirting, at least not with him: the soldier in a tux.
Chapter 2
Killian
I adjusted myself casually as I straightened the too-snug jacket I’d put on earlier that evening. That female, that sexy, beautiful, alluring creature… She was going to make my mission ten times harder tonight. I’d spotted her the moment she’d walked inside, and I knew she was trouble right away.
