"Dresden, Vlad, you're up. Lily, protect Mr. Mason."
Blake sucks in a sharp breath. I position myself between him and the guys. They stalk to one of the picnic tables
"Whatever you do, stay behind me."
"I know how to defend myself, Agent Williams," Blake says in agitation.
"I don't doubt it, but that isn't the point of this."
Dresden and Vlad take off their weapons.
"What's the point then?"
"Too see if you can follow directions, and to prove I'm not as weak as you think."
"I never said you were weak," he says surprised.
"No, you didn't, but you think it."
The guys join us. Dresden is to my right, Vlad the left. These two never waste any time. Dresden lunges, grabbing for Blake's arm. I kick out, bringing my shin into his ribs. A familiar rattle echoes behind me and I turn in time to slam my hands into Vlad's chest as he moves forward.
"That fucking bracelet is your downfall, Rattlesnake!" I turn to block an advance by Dresden.
Vlad laughs, lunging behind me and grabbing Blake's bicep.
"I don't think so," I hiss, twisting in between them.
"Damn it," Vlad growls as I jab my elbow into his ribs, breaking his hold.
"Move, Blake!"
He steps back as Dresden closes on Vlad and me. I slip under Vlad's arm and shove his back, knocking him into Dresden. They straighten themselves and turn on me.
"Fuck the target," Dresden says quietly, stalking forward.
"Bring it on, asshole." The grin flows onto my face as I tilt my head to the side.
They lunge at the same time, Vlad landing a jab into my ribs. Dresden twists my right arm behind me and shoves, tossing me across the space. I land next to the picnic table holding my weapons, the hardness of the ground jolting my spine.
He and Vlad high five each other and walk toward Blake.
"We win." Dresden smirks.
I jump to my feet and grab my whip from the table. As Dresden reaches for Blake, I flick my arm forward. The leather shoots out, coiling around his wrist like a snake, tightening as he pulls against it.
"I don't fucking think so." I smile.
He looks at me, shocked. Taking advantage of the moment, I barrel toward him and drop, sliding across the grass, knocking his feet out from under him.
"Shit!" He topples to the ground hard.
Something shiny flashes in the corner of my eye, and Blake gasps. I turn my head as Vlad slashes at me with his hunter's knife.
"Cheater!" I roll out of his reach.
"Always," he says readjusting the knife in his hand.
I get to my feet and block Vlad from getting to Blake. He lunges, bringing the knife inches from my face. I wrap the middle of the whip around his arm and twist, bringing my foot into his side. He drops the blade and staggers back as I release him.
I dip down, grab the blade and stand as they both lunge at me. I flick the whip again, tangling it around Vlad's neck, dropping him to his knees. Dresden moves for Blake and I bring the knife up, stopping him short, pressing the metal against his throat.
"Jesus Christ," Blake whispers behind me.
My eyes lock on Dresden's, a sinister smile on my lips. "I win."
"Well done!" Jax booms from across the space. "Well done, indeed."
I lower my hands and turn to untangle the whip from Vlad's neck. I step back, giving myself some space. Blake's heated gaze meets mine, his eyes dark and intense.
"Well . . . I think I'll sleep sounder now." His voice is full of wonder, amusement . . . and something else.
I give him my trademark sly grin. "See, I told you my smart mouth was the least of your worries."
4
~Lily~
As the sun sets, Blake is finally ready to leave the beach and head to his apartment in the city. As head of security, I ride in his truck and decide to bring Rhett with me. I'm quiet as he backs out of the parking space and heads for the exit. At least he's put a shirt on. Rhett is almost a ghost in the backseat, and I only know he’s there because I can see him out of the corner of my eye.
I tap my thumb against the door in an effort to occupy my nerves. Being this close to someone is panic attack worthy. It's different with the team. They don't know about my history, but they know my limits. Rhett isn’t stupid enough to reach up here and try to touch me. However, Blake doesn't know anything about me and I'm not in the mood to lay down the law, so to speak, so I'm praying he doesn't do anything stupid like try to touch me.
I glance over at his profile as he murmurs the words to the song playing on the radio. My stomach tightens. He's actually . . . handsome.
Fuck, stop it!
"I expected you to be more of a talker." His deep voice commands the space, shattering my concentration.
I raise one of my eyebrows. "You shouldn't make judgments about people before you know them."
"You seemed to have a good amount to say earlier."
"You pissed me off. I'll endeavor to ignore your arrogance more often." I turn my face toward the window.
“Just wait until you get to know her,” Rhett says with a chuckle.
“Shut it, smartass,” I snap causing him to fully laugh.
"Arrogance? Now who's being judgmental?" Blake glances between the road and my face.
I huff and whip my head back toward him. He's leaning toward me, his arm resting on the center console. Involuntarily, I mimic his posture.
He smells . . . wonderf— Stop that!
"You come across as arrogant." It takes all my concentration to sit back in my seat.
"There's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, Agent."
"Yes, there is. You flirt with it."
His eyes darken. "Nothing wrong with flirtation."
“Mason, I’d be careful there,” Rhett says his tone instantly more serious. “Her idea of flirtation usually involves her fists and it’s only sexy to those not directly involved.”
I swallow the growing lump in my throat. Blake shakes his head slightly, but doesn't sit up. At least he drives well. Better than some of the people we encountered on the way here.
The radio is blaring and as some kind of club mix starts, I find myself tapping the beat on the door. It's not a bad remix, but Baltimore Club music is very techno. Not my style.
"So, Lily."
My breathing hitches at the way his voice wraps around my name, causing my body to tense and my chest to tighten.
Damn it! "Yes?"
"What do you do for Interpol?"
"Didn't Agent Monroe give you personnel files?"
"Today’s the first day I've had off in six months and I didn't feel like spending it reading Interpol files. Since you and Agent GQ are riding with me, I figured I’d just ask instead."
“Agent GQ?” Rhett’s face appears between causing Blake to sit up and me to shift closer to the door. “Don’t hate on my good looks. Just because I work for the government doesn’t mean I have to look like a middle-aged deadbeat with no soul.”
“Hey,” I say motioning for him to sit back so I can straighten my posture. “I don’t have a soul and I don’t look like a deadbeat.”
Rhett signs loudly. “You have a soul, Lil. You just pretend you don’t.”
“Meh,” I say shrugging. “Let’s agree to disagree there, Rhett.”
Blake clears his throat, interrupting the banter that I honestly enjoy with Rhett. “If you two are done, an answer?”
"I'm an undercover agent for The Human Trafficking Taskforce."
"Wait . . . you go undercover? You look like you're barely twenty-five," he says astonished.
I narrow my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek, my agitation rising.
And you’re a pompous ass-hat.
"I get it, you can kick some ass, but seriously, what are you like twenty-three? They send you undercover?" His face is littered with disbelief, and his tone is on the verge of condescending.
I purse my lips together.
"I'm thirty-one. The younger you look, the easier it is to sell you at an auction. Regardless, I'll be the one that keeps your ass alive. We may be here to protect you, but if you talk to me in that tone again, I'll show you how I keep men in their place. Understood?"
He bursts out laughing, his eyes darting from the road to my face again. "That was saucy!"
I bite my bottom lip trying to keep the smile off my face as I shake my head and Rhett snickers. He doesn't act as I expected. He's egotistical, yes, and radiates authority, but he seems very carefree. I guess when you're as rich as him it’s an affordable luxury.
"You know, it’s okay to laugh. I promise I won't tell anyone," he says, grinning at me again.
My breath stops as he licks his lips.
. . . Damn it! Stop!
He sits up straighter in his seat as I shake the fuzziness out of my head. This has never happened to me before. No one has sidetracked me . . . ever. When I first met Dresden, he used to flirt with me all the time and I ignored him easily. Rhett makes jokes a lot, and so does Jameson, but they understand how I am. It’s all in good fun and I don’t give them a hard time for being themselves.
"What's your specialization?" He tries for nonchalance but fails.
"That's classified." I crack my knuckles hoping he lets it go.
His face hardens. "I thought Hyde would’ve made it clear, I don't work well in the dark. If a wom— you’re my lead protector, I'd like to know what your qualifications are." His voice is stern and irritated. That's the voice of a multi-billionaire.
Demanding bastard.
"I specialize in assassination, Mr. Mason. That's why I'm your lead protector." I shift in my seat to face him.
"Assassination . . . seriously? That’s what your file says?"
I chuckle. "No. My file says I specialize in undercover and tactical solutions, which translates into 'I kill people who’re better dead than arrested'."
He swallows and takes a deep breath. "And I need that kind of protector, why?"
"You don't know shit about the people you've pissed off, do you, Mr. Mason?"
It dawns on me that while he's campaigned against the sex trade, his knowledge of the inner workings of the trafficking world may be very limited. That’ll get him killed quicker than anything else does. While ignorance can be bliss, it can also be deadly.
"I've worked with Interpol and other agencies for the last five years. I'm not an idiot, Agent."
"I wasn't saying that. I'm saying that you obviously have no idea how trafficking rings work internally or how they deal with people like you. I do. I can spot another assassin easily. If you continue to get in the way, without us, you'll end up dead." Trying to sound stern yet pleasant at the same time is harder than I expect.
‘Bitch’ may be my middle name, but this guy needs to get himself educated quick before shit really gets deep.
"Fair enough," he says quietly.
My hip vibrates and I pull out my cell phone. "Williams."
"Hey, it's Hayato." His Japanese accent is thick around his name.
I smile to myself, but notice Blake glancing at me. "I figured as much. No one else on the team sounds like they're calling me from the Kobe's Steak House, dude."
"Lily, you’re not funny. One day, I’ll take you to Japan, see how funny you try to be then." He chuckles.
"That’ll be the damn day. What do you need?"
"Let Mason know we’re installing security cameras in his apartment. Not up for debate."
I groan internally. "Yeah. No problem." I end the call and slide my phone back in my hip case.
"Everything okay?" Rhett’s voice is guarded.
"Yeah. Our other two team members are installing new security cameras at Mason’s apartment."
"Is that necessary? I happen to like my privacy," Blake says.
I tilt my head to the side. "I'd think you’d like your life more. Yes, it's necessary."
"How’re you going to handle my work schedule, events, and time with my friends and family?"
"However Jax tells me to. If you like, we can discuss it this evening once the team settles in at your apartment.
"Fine," he says, exasperated.
I sigh, rubbing my face with my hands. We knew he wasn't keen on security, but this is going to be a huge argument. Not that I mind arguing, usually, but after today, the only thing I really want is some sleep.
My eyes close for a second as Blake enters the tunnel leading into the city. He turns the radio off and my lids fly open as the pull in my stomach clenches. I sit up straighter and glance at him. His hands grip the steering wheel as he forces the air from his lungs making his cheeks puff out.
I wonder what touching him would be like? Wait . . . what the fuck?
The sensation in my gut only gets stronger the longer we're in the dark. The orange lights inside the tunnel flash by, illuminating his face slightly as we pass them. I bounce my leg, trying to still the strange and frankly annoying urges randomly coursing through my body. Finally, a white light appears and within seconds, we're cruising back in the waning sunlight.
I shake my head and roll down my window as a loud sigh echoes from beside me.
Did he feel that too?
Rhett lets out a low whistle and I ignore it. Not entertaining any of this crap today. I refuse.
I've managed six hours of sleep in the last seventy-two. Between ending the Beijing case, coming to DC and then here, I'm in deprivation mode. Tonight, I intend to crash as soon as Blake Mason is out of my hair.
"You look tired," he finally says, breaking the odd silence between us.
"I'm fine."
"Do you like the water, Agent?"
My brows come together in confusion.
“Yes, she likes water. She owns a house on the Bayou,” Rhett says quietly.
I roll my eyes. See, sometimes he opens his mouth and I regret trying to cultivate any type of friendship with my teammates.
“Yes, I like the water. Why?”
"I'm trying to figure out which rooms to give you and your team. The one closest to mine, which I assume should be yours, has a large balcony overlooking the Inner Harbor."
"Sounds unnecessary."
"You have an issue with rich people don't you," he says.
"No. I have an issue with unnecessary extravagance."
"Well . . . you got picked for the wrong assignment then." He smiles as if he's privilege to some secret.
Ain't that the fucking truth?
5
~Lily~
The balcony off my room is beautiful, but this apartment could house at least fifteen people. One person lives here with one staff member.
My house is a small one-bedroom hole that almost looks abandoned. I could afford a better place, but there was enough luxury in my youth. I feel better with mundane surroundings when outside the trafficking rings. And Rhett is right, I love living on the Bayou.
"Lily," Jax says from behind me.
"Yes, sir?" The crisp breeze blows against my face as my fingers curl around the railing.
"We've got the security system set up. Why don't you come check it out?"
"Yes, sir. Be there in a second."
I open my eyes and scan the skyline. Baltimore is coming alive on the streets below.
The security room is the smallest, and Blake is standing behind Sammi, who sits at a large desk stacked with monitors. I don't approve of him knowing the locations of the cameras, but he insisted.
"Do you all even know the meaning of privacy?" He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Sir, this is for your own safety," Sammi says sternly.
"As far as I'm concerned, the cameras in my bedroom and bathroom better be removed within the next twenty minutes or I'll rip the damn things down myself."
"Mr. Mason, we need to keep an eye on the balcony. Your room is easily compromised."
"Then put a camera on the balcony. Remove the other two."
Sammi glances at Jax and he nods. "Okay, sir. Th
at's do-able."
"Thank you," he says, still a little heated.
“I see you’ve met Mr. Mason, Sammi. Great time we’re all going to have here, huh?” I chuckle, joining Jax next to Sammi's desk. I lock eyes with Blake and he smiles, the tension leaving his face. My body tenses and as much as I want to look away, it isn't possible. A small smile creeps onto my lips. His grin widens, revealing a perfectly gleaming set of teeth. My smile falters.
“Ah, he’s not so bad. Just a bit of a dictator. Not like we haven’t dealt with that before,” Sammi says winking at me.
Jax laughs and I flip Sammi the middle finger, playfully sticking my tongue out at her too. “I’m not a dictator.”
“But you are a dick,” Hayato says reaching around me and setting a disabled security camera on the edge of Sammi’s desk.
I shake my head, snickering. “Blake, you met Hayato?”
Blake nods, still not taking his eyes off me.
Jax clears his throat. "Mr. Mason, I'd like to show my team the training area if you don’t mind."
"Of course." He extends his arm toward the door. "After you, Agent Williams."
I catch Jax's eye on my way past Blake. He raises one eyebrow. I shrug and march from the room.
We ride the elevator to the basement and I practically run out once the doors open. Elevators are bad enough, but one forcing me to cram in with eight other people is hell. I stroll forward, ignoring the constant prattle of my team behind me.
The concrete basement has been transformed into a decent training space.
"Why couldn't we just go to the DC office to train?" I glance at Jax.
"Too far away. Monroe doesn't want us shorthanded here. He figured this would work best."
"Ah. How nice of him." My eyes reach for the heavens.
There are weights, other exercise equipment, and a large area for hand-to-hand exercises, but the area that catches my eye is the weapons corner. Several melee weapons adorn the far right wall with indoor approved ranged weapons as well. There's a single enclosed target range and what looks like a rotating target.
The Auction Block Page 3