Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  She was about to believe it.

  She licked her lips and glanced back at Milburn. He was watching the show with a hint of amusement and satisfaction.

  “Does John know?” she asked.

  He frowned back at her. “John would have to answer his phone first, wouldn’t he?” he snarled back at her.

  “You called me here because John wouldn’t answer your summons?”

  “My calls,” he snapped.

  “Your summons,” she informed him. “I heard the messages. You, Mr. Malone, have a god complex.”

  “And you, Ms. Serborne, had better learn how to deal with it,” he snapped back in reply. “Do you want in? Or do I see how far away, and for how long, I can commandeer your lover?”

  “My husband.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “My husband, Mr. Malone. John and I were married in a private ceremony last night. I believe that marriage trumps your contract in several ways.” She lifted her hand. “Clause seven, paragraph three: ‘Married, and having formed a legally binding tenet with one whose classified rank matches or exceeds his own, requires that said agency, unnamed but existing, to ensure that said agent, namely one John Vincent, the choice of working with his spouse, or barring the ability to do such, the choice of ensuring proper marital time as befitting his rank and mission status. That time shall be not less than one month to every three, or one week to every three. Said agency is required to enact and ensure such marital time without restrictions.’ ”

  His eyes narrowed. “He showed you the contract?”

  “After the ceremony, of course.” She smiled coolly.

  “Clause eight, paragraph four: ‘If unable to work with or aligned with said agent, spouse must accept that said agent must complete one mission before each marital benefit can be demanded.’ I determine the length of time a mission lasts.”

  “It’s a good thing I enjoy working with him then.” She smiled cheerily. “You are required to allow him three months’ leave for a honeymoon, I believe.”

  His lips parted.

  “And,” she continued, “I believe Milburn will be hearing from my lawyers soon. The charities that the majority of the profits of my companies go to are being redirected, Mr. Malone, under certain conditions to a charity near and dear to our president’s heart. Have I mentioned the president and vice president are close family friends? The charities being redirected to are fronts, I believe, for the Elite Ops.”

  His teeth snapped closed.

  “I’m a businesswoman,” she stated. “I’m an agent and I’m John’s wife. I don’t need you in my face over the fact that you lost control for a few seconds of your agent’s life. Console yourself that you gained an agent instead.”

  “It’s a damned good thing I can respect a strong woman,” he snapped back. “That doesn’t mean you won’t follow orders. You can shove that money right back where it came from if you think it’s going to change how you’ll be trained, or how you’ll be treated.”

  She grinned at that. “It won’t change John either. I believe he’s on his way to debriefing this afternoon. You’ve likely missed him.”

  John had never had any intentions of breaking faith with the contract he had signed. But neither of them was willing to do without the other.

  “You’re going to make his life hell,” he growled. “And mine.”

  “And it’s something she’s damned good at,” Milburn laughed, causing both of them to turn to him.

  He pulled his rotund body from his chair, adjusted his glasses, and smoothed back his thick graying hair.

  “Congratulations, Jordan.” He moved around the desk and clapped the other man on the back. “You just acquired one of my best agents.”

  “You said she was one of your biggest headaches when she was in Atlanta,” Jordan growled.

  “One goes with the other,” Milburn laughed. “Trust me, son, one goes with the other.”

  As they stepped outside the office, the door to his assistant’s office opened, and John walked through, escorted by several guards.

  “I invited him,” Milburn laughed at Jordan’s scowl as John moved to her, curved his arm around her waist, and pulled her against his body.

  “Causing trouble again, love?” He smiled down at her before giving her a quick, warm kiss.

  “Always,” she agreed. “How did you know?”

  “Your director called just after you left.” He nodded to Milburn, he glared at Jordan.

  “Hell.” Jordan glowered at both of them. “You do know everyone involved in the Ops is now calling me head matchmaker rather the brilliant commander I started out as.” Irony filled his tone.

  “You’ll live?” Bailey suggested.

  “Or he’ll be next,” John chuckled. “How’s Tehya doing by the way?”

  “Three months, no more,” he snapped. “Don’t make me send a team after you or I’ll assign you both to opposite ends of the damned planet.”

  He stalked from the office as Bailey stared at him in surprise and John obviously fought to hold back his laughter.

  “You’re the troublemaker,” she accused him.

  “Actually, I’m the matchmaker,” he assured her. “Wanna help me work on him?”

  Bailey’s laughter mixed with Milburn’s. “I’d love to. I’d absolutely love to.”

  She was going to. She could just imagine how crazy both of them together could make Jordan Malone. And they’d have help. After all, she was certain they weren’t the only ones he’d attempted to keep apart. He wanted his agency nice and cool and umcomplicated.

  It was time to complicate Jordan Malone’s life.

  BLACK JACK

  Lora Leigh

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  BLACK JACK

  Copyright © 2010 by Lora Leigh.

  All rights reserved.

  For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  ISBN: 978-0-312-94582-4

  Dedicated most thankfully and with the utmost love to my daughter, Holly, and my son, Bret, who are growing up much too fast.

  You are two of the most enduring and most special lights in my life. You bring me laughter, joy, and love, and I thank God for the very special gifts he sent me when he sent to me my babies.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to CO2 Donna, a nearby correctional officer, for the information on the modified Glocks. Any mistakes I’ve made in the translation are my own.

  Special thanks as well to Randy, the owner of Friendly’s Sports Bar at Franklin and Walnut Streets in Hagerstown, Maryland, for the use of his bar. Good friends and good bars are wonderful research sources, and he has one of the best. And the food is out of this world.

  Try the Chicken Wings.

  PROLOGUE

  IT WAS AN ANNIVERSARY of sorts. The anniversary of her death.

  Lilly Belle, code-named Night Hawk, maneuvered the streamlined Ninja into the dimly lit parking lot of the bar at which she had been ordered to meet her contact, and fought not to reflect on life and death. There lay a whole pit of problems best not poked at. There lay madness, and she preferred not to invite more madness into her life.

  It wasn’t as though her former life had been perfect, she told herself. There had been problems and dangers there. But it had held all she had known of safety and love. She had known the rules, she had understood the intricacies of living within it.

  She had her mother, her brother, a niece and nephew, and once she had had a father who had loved her, who had protected her.

  Once, there had been more to life than survival.

  Parking, she lifted the customized, electronically enhanced helmet from her head and secured it to the chest rest of the bike before dismounting. She stared at the building, heard the laughter and music drifting from inside.

  This w
as a hell of a place to celebrate such a momentous occasion as dying. Even more problematic was the man she was meeting.

  Her weakness.

  She smiled at the thought as she fluffed her dark hair around her face, attempting to restore a bit of body to it before entering the bar. She’d even used makeup tonight. Something she rarely did for a mission this simple.

  The last meeting with this man had culminated in a kiss, though. A kiss that had fried every synapse in her mind and tingled her nerve endings clear to the soles of her feet. It was a kiss that had fueled her fantasies and her imagination ever since.

  The memory of that kiss was guaranteed to shred her self-control when she met with him once more. She knew it. She looked forward to it. And hoped that tonight would be the night.

  Thankfully, the information she had brought to America was something that could be taken care of quickly. The disk she carried in the inside pocket of her jacket contained information on several individuals who had been known European associates of the person known as Warbucks, an American who had stolen and attempted to sell sensitive military weapons several weeks before.

  The information would help develop a plan to wipe out the network Warbucks had begun creating that dealt in thefts, transportation, and sales of highly classified items.

  Running her hands quickly down the snug leather that covered her hips, Lilly let a self-mocking smile touch her lips.

  Travis Caine, code-named Black Jack, the man she was meeting, was a man of mystery. The identity he had taken with his induction into the Elite Ops was that of “facilitator,” a man who negogiated agreements between rival companies or organizations. He thought nothing of working opposite sides of the law, and he didn’t care if he spilled blood if need be.

  The real Travis Caine had met an unfortunate and very secret demise, which had allowed this Travis to take the deceased man’s identity. The original Travis Caine had been a cesspool of depravity. But then the original Lilly Belle had been no angel either.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Lilly walked through the parking lot toward the side entrance of Friendly’s Sports Bar. A weekend crowd filled the place nearly to capacity, with alcohol fueling the joviality and carefree laughter.

  It was one of those bars where friends met after work and on the weekends to drink, shoot pool, or just talk. Comfortable, almost homey, and just run-down enough to make it feel well loved.

  She caught sight of Travis within seconds after she entered the bar. There, lounging in the shadows, was Black Jack. Dark blond hair fell over his brow and the hint of a beard and mustache shadowed the lower part of his face. Predatory brown eyes with a hint of green gleamed within his darkly tanned face, expressing well-honed strength and pure arrogance.

  Brooding awareness filled his rough-hewn features, and for a second, just the barest second, her breath caught in her throat at the flicker of pure male arousal that gleamed in his gaze.

  He didn’t bother to hide it. His gaze took in the leather over-the-knee boots, and in the second it lingered there she wished she had worn her high-heeled boots rather than the ones that allowed her easier movement.

  His gaze moved on to the leather pants, pausing for a breath of time at her thighs, before lifting again. An impish recklessness invaded her and had her unzipping the short leather riding jacket she wore to reveal the snug white shirt that clung to her breasts and rode high above the waistband of her pants.

  Her nipples tightened, pressing against the material of the shirt and doing everything but waving for his attention. Not that he missed them. His eyes narrowed on them as his lips quirked with a hint of smile. She propped her hands on her hips, tilted her head, and arched her brow.

  This was a fine way to treat a mission. She was certain her commander would have had something to say about her hormones clouding her judgment.

  But what the hell, she was already supposed to be dead, it wasn’t as though she were going to lose more than she already had. Unless she counted really dying.

  Moving across the room, striding slow and easy, Lilly had to fight to remember that she was here for a mission rather than the good time she was dying for.

  “You’re late.” His voice was like midnight sex. It rasped across her nerve endings and sent her hormones screaming in response.

  Her nipples were spike hard and dying for more than her own touch. Her sex felt hot, swollen, her clit rubbing against the silk lining of the leather pants as she slid into the booth across from him.

  “So report me,” she drawled as she sat back in the seat and reminded herself that she was here for much more than the man.

  “What makes you think I haven’t already taken care of that?” He turned in the seat, one of his long legs moving under the table rather than stretched out on the bench seat as it had been.

  “Then I have time to come up with an excuse.” She shrugged. “My boss is across the ocean, darling, not looking over my shoulder.”

  His lips tightened, though the corners lifted as he shook his head and a chuckle left his lips.

  “Lucky you,” he stated as his shoulders shifted beneath the leather jacket he wore. “When did you get in?”

  “A few hours ago.” She was tired. She’d realized that as the plane landed. Tired of so much, and wondering if the price she had paid would ever feel worth the pain she endured.

  “Hungry?” He nodded to the bar. “The chicken wings were exceptional.”

  Lilly shook her head. She wasn’t hungry for food, she was hungry for touch. So hungry that at times it felt as though the need were gnawing a hole inside her soul.

  This man made that need burn brighter, hotter. As though he alone held the key to her arousal and her satisfaction.

  He stared around the bar for long moments before turning back to her.

  His gaze was more intent now, darker.

  “Are we going to keep pretending?” he finally asked.

  The question shocked her. She’d had the impression he was fighting the attraction harder than she was, that he would be the last one to give in. She hadn’t expected him to make this first move.

  “Pretending’s safer,” she finally said, but the aching need couldn’t be disguised. She heard it herself, she knew he could hear it as well.

  “It’s safer,” he agreed as he slid across the seat and rose to his feet.

  Leather pants as well, leather bomber jacket, a white shirt beneath, the loosened buttons revealing the strong column of his neck. The jacket emphasized the lean strength of his chest and shoulders. His arms, she knew, were powerful, corded with muscle and warm, so very warm, when they wrapped around her.

  This man had trained her when she had joined the Ops, covered her on missions and led her through the strange new world of the agency she had been a part of for the past six years.

  “Let’s go.” He held his hand out to her, the strong palm and fingers inviting, his expression intense and bordering on total male hunger.

  It sent the strangest surge of adrenaline racing through her. Akin to fear, or danger, it raced to her heart, sent it pounding, then raked across her clit before tearing into her vagina and sending her juices flowing.

  He wasn’t waiting, and she was tired of waiting.

  Good Lord. It should be criminal. She was certain, in her former world, it was against the rules. And hormones certainly had no place in the Elite Ops. Sexual need, emotions, hungers, they were all to be ignored, especially during a mission.

  Lilly had managed to obey those rules, until it came to Travis Caine.

  Lifting her hand to him, she felt his fingers curl around hers, felt the heat of his skin, and had to restrain a shiver of pure reaction as she allowed him to help her to her feet.

  She hadn’t expected this, not from Black Jack, the need and the hunger reflected in his eyes, transferring to her in the heat of his palm against hers.

  It reminded her of another time, another man, a life that had existed before her “death.”

  It was the oddest
sensation. As though that warmth were physically sinking inside her, rushing through her veins, caressing sensitive nerve endings. Breathless anticipation began rising inside her, chills racing up her arms despite the warmth of the bar and the leather she wore.

  “What are you doing?” Staring up at him, suddenly wary of what she saw in his eyes, what she felt racing through her own body, she couldn’t help the question as it slipped past her lips.

  “What do you want me to do, Belle?”

  Belle. It wasn’t a name he used often, but each time he used it, the sound of it on his lips sent reaction racing through her. It never failed to make her wet.

  What did she want him to do?

  “We don’t have enough time for what I want.” She wanted all of him. The touch, the taste, the dreams she had been forced to give up.

  His expression became heavier, more sensual. The green in his eyes seemed to brighten, to flicker. It made her wonder what color his eyes had been before the Elite Ops. Before he had “died.”

  Blue, she thought. His eyes had been blue. The convergence of the green, the golden brown, and then the darker brown was so oddly aligned that it almost appeared as though the separate colors had broken into their own small groupings. The laser surgery that had been done to change his identity had come close to the color required, but Travis’s eyes were so much more than a simple hazel.

  “We’ll make time.”

  She followed him from the bar, her lips parted as she fought to breathe, to believe this was more than a dream, or a fantasy that she had lost herself within.

  As she left the bar she had to fight not to pinch herself to be certain she was definitely awake.

  She had been a member of the world’s social elite at one time. She was a trained Elite Ops agent now. She had killed. She had lied. But at the moment she felt like a teenager again, and she had managed to snare the most handsome, the most popular guy in the world.