“Zelie was supposed to fill your need for a traditional female partner. After reviewing your file, we thought she’d fit your particular… needs.”
My face grew warm. Fuck. Really? Well, this was embarrassing. They knew the sick sexual shit I liked and had customized a mate made-to-order.
On one hand it was smart and creative, but on the other fucking unbelievable. And Zelie. Jesus. She hadn’t said a word. Not one fucking word until now.
The stuff I’d done to her in bed…that was part of her job? She was just taking one for the team? Did she really even like me? I set my glass down and slumped in my chair.
Way to crush a man’s ego. What was all that talk from her about Rain? Did she really care if I saw other women?
“I understand that this is a big shock, but The Group takes their investments seriously. There was a hole in your life, so we filled it. All Zelie had to do was keep you happy.”
“That was her mission, me?”
Mark cocked his head to the side. “We’ve occasionally used her for other things. She’s quite accomplished with a knife.”
I gulped. Took a lot to shake me, but Zelie as an operative? She wasn’t the most rational personal I’d ever met. “She’s an assassin?”
He laughed. “Cutest killer on the block.”
I started laughing. The absurdity of the situation. The fucking ridiculousness of it all. Shaking my head, I looked at Mark. “So what’s the change of plans? Zelie’s uncle?”
“Right.” He paused. “You okay, though?” I nodded and he continued. “The President of Taiwan needs to know that if he doesn’t play ball, we’ll take him out him.”
I sat up then. “I thought this was about saving his life.”
He laughed at me. “I don’t want to bore you with State Department business. We needed for him to trust us, we needed for him to clear out his security detail which was notoriously loyal to him and replace them with our own handpicked men, which he’s done, thanks to you.”
“So there was no plot to kill him?”
“Nope.”
“Let me guess, now you want me to tell him that the US owns him and if he steps out of line, we already have his successor in the wings.”
He smiled at me. “Something like that.” He stood. “More Scotch?”
I shook my head. Disgust coiled in the pit of my stomach.
He handed me a tiny leather square box. “I know what you’re thinking. But you’re not paid to think here, you’re paid to—”
I stopped him with my raised hand. “I know.”
He nodded toward the case in my hand. “That tells you everything you need to know about the expanded Operation Serpentine. It’s still a go and you’re still on mission.”
He exhaled loudly. “You know, you were almost passed over for The Group, but I plucked you out of obscurity.”
“I wouldn’t call being a Green Beret obscurity exactly.”
“Some on the board thought you were too much of a thinker, a reader, a wonderer, as in, I wonder why this? I wonder why that?” He squinted at me, as if he were trying to figure me out.
“The majority of our agents are highly programmable. We point and they aim. No questions asked. But you like to know the why of things. Which is good in its place. You’ll make a good handler one day.”
“Were you an agent first?”
“Of course. All handlers are, in The Group at least. The CIA and other outfits are different. But we’re special. Makes for better case managers when you’ve walked the walk.”
Huh. I relaxed a bit in my chair. It helped knowing Mark had been where I was.
“Every so often, a recruit will come through that’s not quite right for the agent program, but they’d make a great handler.”
“I’m supposed to suffer through this just to make it to the promised land of case management?”
He laughed. “Something like that. But you shouldn’t be suffering. What you do is fun. Right?”
A grin crept across my face. “Yeah, I guess.”
“One more year and I get my own McMansion in Reston with you?”
He shrugged. “If you want. Or you could stay at your place in France. We run a European office as well.”
“About Zelie, sir?”
“What about her? We just covered her.”
“Can you assign her to somebody else?”
“We’ll see. Maybe after the op is over.” He scrutinized me. “Still dreaming about that picket fence, son?”
“No, sir, I just want to cut ties with her. That’s all.”
He leaned on the edge of his desk, concern stretched across his face. “I’m glad you came in, Kael. Saved me a trip down South.”
“You were coming to Raleigh, sir?”
“It’s not good news, I’m afraid to say.” He motioned toward the case in my hand. “It’s all there, embedded on that chip. One of our techs intercepted a coded message from Prague to Rome. It would seem the Falcon has not forgotten about you after all.”
The Falcon was the son of the man I killed in Jamaica. His father, Anatoly Yartsev was an ex-KGB officer turned boss in the Russian Mafia. Well, not really ex-KGB, since nobody leaves the KGB. But let’s say he made a lateral career move. He became the head of the infamous Solntsevskaya gang and made his son one of his captains. He was responsible for the torture and killing of too many people to name.
I knew his son was pissed. He immediately sent someone to kill me, and I’d gotten away every time. That was why I’d stayed away from Rain for two years. That was why I’d returned. He’d given up on searching for me, or so I thought.
I put the Falcon in prison a year after I killed his father. His own crimes against humanity outdid anything his father had ever dreamed of.
“The message from Prague stated that he’s hired Il Morte to take you out.”
He’d brought in the big guns. I didn’t flinch but did feel my pulse tick upwards a notch. Il Morte, better known as The Death, was on my case. That meant he’d be coming after me and anyone close to me. That was his MO, his pleasure. He enjoyed collateral damage.
Rain. Her beautiful face flickered through my mind. The whole point of staying away last time was to keep her safe, so no one would come after her. I’d just re-entered her life. I couldn’t bail on her now, she’d never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself. Which meant that I had to find this guy before he found Rain.
“What’s the latest intel on Il Morte?” Nobody knew who Il Morte was, what he looked like or why he did what he did. What we did know was that he was a mercenary who pledged allegiance to the bad guy with the most money.
He got paid five million a hit because he was the best at what he does.
Mark touched his screen, made a few swiping motions and gestured for me to come around his desk. A profile popped up.
“We think he’s a Caucasian man between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, medium build, average to tall height and speaks with some sort of European accent.”
I laughed. “Well that narrows it down.”
Mark opened a few more screens and a map appeared with glowing red dots in the areas where there were possible sightings of the elusive assassin.
I stared at the map for a moment.“Did he give a description?”
Mark clicked on several files before answering. “Tall and fit, wearing a Yankees baseball cap and American jeans. There have been conflicting reports about his accent, everything from French to German.”
I shrugged. “He looks and sounds like everybody and nobody.”
He laughed. “Just be on the lookout for a suspicious floral arrangement.”
“Oh, right. Black orchids. His calling card.” I waved the small leather case at Mark. “I got everything I need right here.” I started heading for the door, then stopped. “I need to talk to the analyst that
compiled this file.”
“That analyst? He would be an excellent resource. He’s been tracking Il Morte from a desk for the last two years. But he’s been reassigned, working in the field now. Not sure if you’d be able to connect him right now.”
“Is he tracking Il Morte?”
“Yes. He’s a bit obsessed with finding him but then, you need that type of focus to be successful at anything.”
“We should definitely compare notes then. Let him know I want to talk.”
Mark took a step toward me. “Il Morte is a high value target for the guys upstairs. We’ve got several different agents looking for him. But if you bring him in, you could write your own ticket. You could start running your own team, set up shop in London or Paris, just pick your favorite city.”
“I get it. Find Il Morte. No problem. He’s just moved to priority number one.”
Mark’s eyebrow’s lifted. “He’s the best at what he does.”
“So am I, boss,” I called over my shoulder.
“How was he?”
Mark stared at the door his best asset had just walked out of. “Agent Brady seems to be doing fine. You just listened in on our conversation.”
“Precisely. Some of the folks upstairs are still worried about his psych eval from two years ago.”
Mark glanced at the phone on speaker. The nasally voice floated out of the sleek phone and hung in the room like a black cloud. “He’s good. I’m telling you, he’s got his head back in the game, and he’s focused on finding Il Morte and Operation Serpentine.”
“And the girl? Is it serious?”
“Agent Brady knows the score,” Mark responded. “No attachments, no liabilities.”
“He’s reconnected with her in Raleigh while on mission. Of course, with Il Morte’s scorch earth tactics, perhaps he’ll solve our little problem for us.” There was a quiet chuckle in the background. “Some people think he’s going soft and that is a concern. We can’t complete missions when our agents aren’t playing their A-game.” The sound of papers shuffling filled the air then more voices consulting in the background.
Mark frowned. “You’re with The Group now.”
The Group was a division within a division within a division of the CIA. They ran special operations far from the prying eyes of the media, the Senate and the American people.
Another voice. “Yes, Mark, we’re all here and we’re all concerned. The Group placed a considerable investment in Agent Brady’s training. He’s our rock star, or rather he was.”
He sat up straighter. This was serious then. “Agent Brady has done everything you’ve ever asked of him. He’s been an exemplary agent for four years.”
“We’re not worried about his performance just yet. But that will come if his priorities aren’t clear. This is a pre-emptive concern really.”
He put a smile in his voice. “I’ve taken precautions, should Agent Brady…falter in his assignment.”
“Excellent. Of course, we know you’re on top of things.” Someone cleared a throat. “It’s just sad really, to hear some of the things he told his shrink. We can’t have agents doubting themselves or the mission.”
“An agent wants to do more than kill. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Mark stared at the phone, wondering if he was getting his message across. “Agent Brady is a highly skilled, well-educated operative. You know I have him in mind for management. Maybe he’s getting bored. Even the sharpest knife gets dull without challenge.”
“Perhaps Agent Brady is no longer faithful to The Group,” the voice on the phone was cold. “Which could be a fatal mistake for him and his loved ones.”
“Agent Brady remains committed to his mission, to The Group and our country, I promise you that.”
A long moment passed. “Right. If he doesn’t, you know what to do.”
Mark stared at the phone. “The girl won’t be a problem. I’ll see to that.”
“This is nice.” Smiling, Rain looked around the large rustic dining area, her gaze landing on the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling and then the blue gingham tablecloths. “Thank you.”
I poured her a glass of Cabernet. “Pretty fancy for a big red barn, but I heard they have the best filet mignon in the state.”
“Probably,” she agreed then took a sip of wine. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “Very robust. I like.”
I opened my linen napkin and covered my lap. “I hope this is the beginning of a new chapter in our relationship, Rain.”
She continued to drink her wine. “Perhaps. How long do you plan on being in the area?”
“A few weeks. I’ve earned some time off. Plus I can always work from my laptop.”
“It’s not like you to stay in one place for so long.” She set her glass down and eyed me coyly. “Take today for example. I didn’t realize you’d even left the area.”
I shrugged. “It was just DC. What’s that, like thirty minutes by plane?”
“Yes, but I didn’t even know you were gone. Is that how it always is with you? Returning and leaving at the drop of a hat?”
The answer to her question was yes. But I didn’t want to say that in this moment. Didn’t want to scare off. Still, I didn’t want to lie either.
“Sometimes, but not always. If you want me to keep you updated on my travel, I can do that. I may not always be able to tell you exactly where I’m going, or precisely how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll do my best.”
I took her hand, afraid that she’d get up and leave. What I could give her was not nearly enough and definitely not what she deserved in a man.
“Believe me, I’m here for you. I’m making up for lost time.”
She selected a slice of bread from our basket and nibbled on it. “We have very different lifestyles. Are you sure we could even work?”
“If we want it bad enough.” And I wanted it bad enough for the both of us.
She looked lovely. She’d straightened her hair and then piled it on top of her head in an intricate knot tied with red ribbons and feathers. Wisps of jet black hair framed her face.
She didn’t normally wear much makeup, but tonight her eyes were lined in thick kohl that tilted upward at the ends, and her lips were a glossy plum.
It was all I could do not to clear the table with one swipe of my hand, lay her down and rip the delicate, red silk that sensuously covered her body into pieces. But instead, I wondered at the gold glitter that sparkled on her chest, trailing into her décolletage.
“You’re staring.” She nervously fingered the silk covering her thighs. “Don’t you like my dress?”
I dragged my eyes back to her beautiful, oval-shaped face, looked into her dark brown eyes flecked with copper, fantasized about her full lips, the bottom of which was pressed between her pretty white teeth.
“I love your dress, Rain.”
“Oh.” She seemed surprised by the intensity of my gaze and reached for her wineglass.
“I’d like to take you to France sometime. I have a farmhouse in Burgundy. A man there tends to my grapes, while I’m away.”
She raised a slender eyebrow. “You have a vineyard?”
I nodded. “Just a few acres. You had some of my wine, at my place.”
She chuckled to herself, picking up her fork.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, you just seem damn near perfect.”
“Far from it.” My gaze lingered on her lips again. “For example, I want to be the perfect gentleman, but I can only think of,” I looked into her eyes, “what I want to do to your body.” I took a bite of my rare steak and chewed for a moment. “I know you want to take things slow, but in the last two years, there must’ve been other men, right?”
Her face turned red and she stared at her plate. “I haven’t been with anyone since…” She drained the wine from her goblet. “I have
n’t been serious about anyone.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve been celibate since Jamaica. Well, before that actually.”
She was too beautiful, her body too sexy. I couldn’t believe that. I shook my head. “There’s no way.”
She laughed, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “I said I was celibate. There are still ways to have fun.”
I watched her as she focused on her plate, delicately cutting her salmon with her fork and bringing it to her mouth. I wondered if she could be into my kind of fun. I could tie her up and tease her all night long, if she liked. We didn’t have to have intercourse.
Of course, if I put my face between her lovely thighs, she might be begging for more than my tongue in her.
“Kael?”
I shook my head to clear that enticing vision from my brain. “Yes, Rain.”
“What were you just thinking about? You looked…intense.”
I smiled at her and licked my lips. “Dessert.”
Thirty minutes later, she stepped into my living room and I closed the door.
She turned around slowly, her gaze falling on the newly installed large flat screen that allowed me to see six different areas of her home and grounds at once. “Those are new.”
“It’s for work, conference calls.”
It was an easy lie and she appeared to believe it. She slipped out of her red stilettos and curled into my leather chair. With her knees folded under her, the hem of her skirt rode up, and I wondered, not for the first time, what she’d look like undressed down to her bra and panties, hair falling around her shoulders, bound by rope and with a gag in her mouth.
I cleared my throat and loosened my tie. “More wine?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk so you could take advantage of me.”
I retrieved two small bottles of chilled Pellegrino from the fridge, and handed her one as I sat down beside her. “I’d never do anything to you that you didn’t ask for.”
Her eyes widened and she quickly bought the bottle to her mouth. “Tonight has been nice. Thank you.”
Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1 Page 15