Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  Kyle, the bartender, slid the cold bottle across the bar to her. Gripping it, she lifted it to her lips as she gave the area another quick glance.

  There were few people in the bar at this time of night. All were regulars, all had been coming in far longer than she had, and all had passed the background check she had done on them. Well, except Casey. He’d shown up the night before, but her initial check on him hadn’t blipped her radar.

  So why the hell was her neck itching?

  “Tey, you need to get a life.” Journey Taite, one of the few young women there that night, grinned back at her from where she sat at one of the high tables against the wall. “It’s one o’clock on a Saturday morning, shouldn’t you be, like, sharing time with a lover or something at your advanced age?” There was a teasing snicker on the younger girl’s face, amusement gleaming in her green eyes.

  It broke her heart every time she looked at the other girl, just as it had the day Teyha had hired her. Journey Taite, her second cousin. Tehya had come to Hagerstown to watch over her, never imagining she would have the chance to get to know her.

  “At my advanced age?” Tehya’s brow arched as she fought back the regret that seared her because she could never reveal her identity to the other girl. “It’s called experience, young’un, and learning the value of sleeping alone.”

  Journey lifted her beer with a light laugh, her gaze more open now than it had been the day she first came to work for the company just after Tehya had bought it.

  “Hell, a man would take his life in his own hands sleeping with either one of you,” Casey grunted, his expression drunkenly amused. “I’d be scared.”

  “Naw, Casey, you’d just be drunk. You’d never remember,” Journey teased as she pushed back the shoulder-length, ribbon-straight strands of sunlit red and gold hair. Both the red as well as the streaks of gold were natural, blending and mingling to a color that was unique to the Taite women. Tehya had darkened her own hair when she left the ops, simply because of that unusual trait.

  The red of her hair was darker, the highlights less natural and applied in her bathroom.

  It was attractive, close enough to a natural blend of sunlit and red-gold hues, but closer to a strawberry blond than that of Journey.

  Tehya tipped her beer to the younger girl as she held back her laughter due to the little pout on Casey’s face.

  He was her age, perhaps a few years older. He was cute, built like a damned tank but acting more like a gentle giant.

  He was one of the newer customers at the bar and a recent employee at the lumberyard next door to the landscaping company Tehya had bought six months before.

  He’d been coming in for the past few nights, since moving to the area from Florida. A former army Ranger, he’d been discharged for medical reasons, though it was hard to imagine the heavily muscled left arm had the pins and rods in it she knew it had. Her investigation of him had been perhaps more in-depth than others simply because of his military background.

  “Wicked women,” Casey grunted as he rubbed at his cheek before sliding onto a barstool next to Journey. “Ya just wanna make a grown man cry is all.” Chocolate-brown eyes blinked back at her as he gave her a drunkenly charming rogue’s smile.

  Tehya rolled her eyes and Journey nearly snorted the sip of beer she had taken as laughter choked her.

  “And on that note, it’s time for me to say good night.” Tehya rose from the barstool, the sensation at her neck becoming a constant irritant.

  Casey sighed lustily. “She’s desertin’ me, Journ. My heart’s abreakin’.”

  “Your heart’s drowning in booze, Casey,” Journey accused him with a laugh. “Come on, I’ll cheat you at a game of pool before I head on home myself.”

  Casey’s eyes widened in pleasure as he staggered to his feet.

  “You’re on.” His grin was slightly lopsided as Tehya turned to leave, her gaze moving around the bar again, touching on faces, searching for anything, anyone, out of the ordinary, and finding nothing.

  “Later, Teylor,” the bartender called out as she moved to the door, causing her to almost pause, to betray herself with her unfamiliarity with her own name, even after nine months.

  Teylor. She still wasn’t used to the name. It wasn’t familiar, and it didn’t feel like her. But it was the name Jordan had picked out, the identity he had wanted her to have, so she had gone with it.

  “Later.” Lifting her hand, she called out a farewell as she left by the back entrance, entering a small Laundromat before stepping out into the parking lot.

  The parking area was small, barely large enough for a dozen vehicles. She didn’t dare park the Viper there, she was terrified a customer would leave a little too inebriated and swipe the expensive little car.

  It was her pride and joy. The only thing she had that Jordan had seemed to care about. And all she had left to remember her time with him.

  A damned car. How sad was that? Even sadder was the fact that having it gave her some small measure of comfort.

  Loping across the street, she moved quickly to the shadowed area where she had parked the car as she held the large key she carried for safety between her fingers.

  When she stepped to the curb she hit the ignition switch to the Viper remote. Lights came on, the motor revved. Rounding the back of the vehicle, she pressed the door locks and within seconds was sitting securely in the driver’s seat.

  Before sliding the car into gear, she programmed the security device attached to the vehicle and waited for a notification of any potential devices that could have been attached to the undercarriage.

  A tracker or explosives. Either would have been all she needed to tell her that itch at the back of her neck was right.

  There was no notification. “System Clear.” The words flashed against the digital screen, assuring her the car was secure.

  She had lived too long in the shadows, spent too many years hiding and worrying before Jordan had taken her into the Elite Ops. That had to be the reason for her growing paranoia now. She simply wasn’t used to any sense of freedom.

  Accelerating out of the parking lot and pulling onto the street, Tehya tried to tell herself those years were just catching up on her. She didn’t know how to relax and live rather than fight and run. She simply didn’t know how to be free. Even driving home, the roads nearly deserted, and still, she was searching for shadows.

  The drive back to her small house was quick, the lack of traffic on the streets assuring her she wasn’t followed. But her neck was still aching, her senses still on alert.

  At any other time in the past, she would have left the area once this feeling hit. She would have packed up and run. Hell, this was the longest she had ever lived anywhere other than the suite at the Elite Ops base, anyway. She had lived there for six years. For a while, she had had something resembling a family and a home. She hadn’t realized how thin that resemblance had really been, though, until it was over.

  Once the team had broken up there had been no contact. Everyone had gone their separate ways, and although she still had the secure satellite phone, the secure number she had been given, there hadn’t been a call. They had forgotten her.

  Mocking amusement flitted through her mind. Had she really expected anything more? She was the daughter of the man who had ordered the torture of one of their own. Who had aided in the kidnapping of a young woman who had become the wife of one of their own. The man who had murdered the parents of one of their own.

  There were days she had been amazed they had even allowed her to live. Of course, killing her own father might have contributed to the tolerance they had given her in the breathing area, but they hadn’t needed to allow her to become part of the team.

  They had protected her. They had given her a secure life for the time she had been there. She had to admit, she hadn’t expected them to desert her once it was over, though. She had thought she would receive a call at least from Kira, perhaps Bailey. She hadn’t expected to be forgotten.


  Running wasn’t an option, she realized. She had grown tired of running even before she had joined the Ops. She had finally put down roots, and until now, she hadn’t realized how deep, how firmly entrenched, those roots had grown until now. Until she had begun to sense danger and decided to try to face it rather than running.

  As she pulled into the small driveway of her home, the garage door slid open, allowing her to drive smoothly inside. As the doors closed behind the car and the security display once again flashed the words “system clear,” Tehya turned off the ignition and set the parking brake.

  There hadn’t been so much as a Girl Scout selling cookies at her door. Her neighbors didn’t visit often, but they did wave when they saw her. Sometimes, when she was cutting grass or pruning her flowers, they would stop to chat. Once, a nice young couple at the end of the lane had invited her to a party they had thrown. Tehya hadn’t gone to the party; instead, she had watched from a hidden, shadowed area at the edge of the yard, both amused at and envious of the innocent hilarity that had often erupted. On the outside looking in, she’d thought at the time

  It had been everything she could do to hold herself back, to remain in those shadows. Past lessons were too ingrained, though: to stay hidden, to keep everyone at a distance, to protect those that an enemy might strike at if they couldn’t strike at her.

  It was best not to have friends, but she had neighbors, and she enjoyed that. She saw the same people everyday and the routine was treasured.

  The block she lived on was peaceful. It was quiet and serene. In the six months since she had moved into the house she thought she may have felt a part of her soul healing.

  So what the hell had her senses on high alert?

  Sliding from the car, she closed the door softly before moving to the entrance leading into the kitchen through a connecting door.

  The security wired into the house had dim lighting flipping on as she opened the door. She hated coming into a dark house. She hated coming into an empty house.

  Maybe it was time to get a cat. Or better yet, one of those little toy dogs she had always wanted. Because if this was paranoia, then she was going to end up driving herself insane.

  Locking the door, she reset the security alarm before turning and staring around the open kitchen, dining, and living area of the neat little ranch she had bought.

  Hell, she had bought a house. Teylor Johnson had a mortgage. She couldn’t run. She had a business, with employees and responsibilities. She didn’t want to run. She didn’t want to revisit the time in her life that had been a living hell.

  She wanted to live for a change.

  It had taken a while to decide the type of home she wanted, where she wanted to live. The minute she had seen this little house with its nice little enclosed patio, she had fallen in love with it.

  She had come to Hagerstown because of Journey. Tehya had been keeping an eye on the young woman ever since she had come to Maryland from England to attend college. It was a Taite family tradition to send their sons and daughters to the best colleges in America for additional schooling before they married.

  Tehya had watched, she had waited, knowing the girl would be arriving. Journey had arrived in Hagerstown from England just before the Ops had been disbanded, moving into the apartment her family had provided, and unlike other Taite daughters, she had immediately set out to find a part-time job. She’d never had a job, she’d told Tehya, when she applied for the opening after Tehya bought the company.

  Journey was family. It was something Tehya had never had. Not that she had expected to ever have a relationship with Journey. She hadn’t so much as entertained the idea of seeking her out. It was Journey who had found her. She had applied for a job the week Tehya had taken the small landscaping company over and Tehya hadn’t been able to resist hiring her. She hadn’t been able to resist getting to know the girl, becoming friends with her, and worrying daily that the friendship could endanger the other girl. She had to admit, Journey was a damned good designer. She and Tehya often drew out the landscaping plans together before Tehya worked up the cost, then supervised the implementation

  They made a hell of a team. Tehya hated the thought of losing Journey’s talent, as well as her friendship if her family learned she was working.

  She gave a weary sigh. It hadn’t been just Journey that had drawn her here, though. One of the Ops former agents and his wife lived here. Others visited nearby D.C. often. Tehya had wondered if perhaps one of them would contact her. But they hadn’t called. No one had called, and she had too much pride to make the move to call them first.

  Breathing out heavily, she moved across the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor, to the gleaming hardwood of the open living room and dining room. The warm colors never failed to welcome her, even on nights such as tonight when it seemed she would never be free of the fear that had followed her most of her life.

  The warm autumn colors of the couch, sofa, and recliners went perfectly with the earth tones of the pillows and light throws draped over them. Colorful rugs were scattered over the floors and vibrant drapes pulled closed to ensure prying eyes couldn’t spy on her. It was her home, and losing it might kill her.

  Tonight, she didn’t stop to watch television or grab another beer. She didn’t stop at the computer to check her e-mail. A quick glance to the telephone showed no messages or missed calls.

  God, what a pitiful life she was living. In the six months she had lived there she hadn’t made many friends or acquired a lover, and every instinct she had was screaming at her to run, even as another, more vital part of her demanded she stay and fight. Tehya just wished she knew what she should be fighting.

  Stepping into the bedroom, she began unbuttoning the white silk sleeveless blouse she had worn with the leather pants. Her mind was on a shower and ignoring the hard, almost panicked throbbing of her heart. It was racing so hard she could barely breathe as panic began to edge through her. The almost nightly attacks were beginning to fray her nerves.

  She should have heeded the warning.

  As she moved into the bedroom the lights suddenly went out, blinding her with darkness as the door slammed closed behind her.

  Seconds. She had only seconds to escape, or reach the weapon on the other side of the room.

  She was ducking and rolling as hard fingers glanced her shoulder obviously intent on restraining her. Kicking out in the direction the attack came, she was rewarded with a solid thump, but not a fallen body or a groan of pain. Dammit.

  Rolling across the room, she came to a crouch, straining to see through the pitch-blackness of the room to catch a shadow of movement, the gleam of a weapon. She wasn’t close enough yet to the nightstand where her own weapon was hidden.

  Cold determination replaced panic. There was no fear. She had stopped feeling true fear years ago, long before she had joined the Elite Ops, even before she had put a bullet in her brother’s and her father’s chests. She had always sensed she wasn’t truly free, and this no more than affirmed it.

  She was at a disadvantage, though. She was wearing white, and whoever was in the room with her was obviously dressed in black. Fighting an enemy she couldn’t see was a bitch. The only positive note was that evidently they didn’t want her dead, or she would already be bleeding from a gunshot wound.

  She could barely glimpse a shadow if it moved. Damn, she hated being played with and whoever was there was obviously enjoying their game.

  She inched closer to the nightstand and the weapon hidden beneath.

  Her fingers reached a folded towel she kept there, less than inches from the gun, when she saw a shadow moving swiftly toward her. No warning, just a quick, silent attack.

  A hard kick against the thick carpet and she launched herself away from the attacker, almost making it. Hard fingers gripped her ankle as she twisted and kicked out, breaking the hold and rolling to the side before a hard, heavy male weight suddenly came over her. She was pinned to the floor nearly immobile as she began to fight f
or freedom.

  Her fingers curled into claws and moved for his face, only to have her wrists caught and jerked over her head as hard, muscular thighs trapped her legs. In that instance, something familar, some sound, scent, or sensation warned her of what was coming.

  “You’re wearing white, baby. Didn’t I teach you better than that?”

  Jordan.

  She froze. For a second, Tehya felt her heart stop just before it began to pound with a hard rush of adrenaline and sexual excitement. The cold, hard determination to survive changed. It rushed through her system, became brilliantly hot, sensitizing her flesh, rushing through her and burning away the chill that had been wrapped around her for the past nine months. As though her body were suddenly jerked from deep freeze and infused with vibrant life, making her feel again. And just that fast, she felt too much. She was too hot. Her flesh was too sensitive. Her hunger for this man was too strong.

  Jordan’s fingers tightened on her wrist as she suddenly bucked against him, the urge to survive suddenly morphing into something she didn’t understand. Into a hunger, a need, an anger that terrified her.

  “Get off me!” she hissed, uncertain if it was fury or lust suddenly raging through her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  His lips cut the furious words off, covering hers, slanting across them and stealing her anger with the sudden overflow of need that left her helpless to do anything but take the kiss and demand more in return.

  Her eyes flared open, then drifted closed. Sensual weakness began to race through her body, surging through her bloodstream with a punch of heat so brilliant it felt blinding. Pleasure wrapped around her and held her in thrall as their tongues met, stroked, then dueled in an erotic dance of delight.

  Suddenly, she was starved for the taste and the feel of him. Dying to take back the months she had been so alone, drifting, uncertain what to do or how to feel, because she no longer had his presence to hold onto, or a day filled with at least the sight of him. She arched to him, whimpering need tearing through her, a desperation to get closer to him overwhelming her common sense.