Trick of Silver

by Jamie Craig

  Trick of Silver

  By Jamie Craig

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2019 Jamie Craig

  ISBN 9781646561131

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Trick of Silver

  By Jamie Craig

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 1

  Darren Sumner knew there was only one reason he drew the Halloween assignment—he looked damned good in a dress. Better than anybody else, including the female agents. Once he got over the initial shock of seeing himself in the mirror, he didn’t even mind that he was given one of the most stressful assignments of the entire year based on how great his legs looked in a leather mini and a pair of heels. He could have done without the bra, but Jasmine insisted he needed to have a bust, or it wouldn’t matter how much he showed off his gams. They were trying to make him look as authentic as possible, after all.

  The tight blouse, leather mini, high heels, and realistic breasts weren’t just for a laugh. It was imperative as few people as possible recognized Darren, and nobody could recognize him as an operative. Theoretically, a man working a dangerous, life or death situation, would not be dressed to kill in a highly-cut yet coy skirt. As his commanding officer, Jasmine was horrified at the logic when they first brainstormed the idea. She had been even more put out when she learned that they couldn’t just send one of the female agents in to do the job. It needed to be Darren, and he needed to look like a young woman.

  At least half the people at the party knew Darren, but they had been fooled when he walked in the door. Nobody looked at him with even a glimmer of recognition. He had quietly passed his invitation to the doorman, who gave him a narrow-eyed, curious once-over before nodding him into the mansion. The massive house was lit up brighter than a Christmas tree, and the floors and walls throbbed with the combined force of hundreds of hidden speakers. Normally on an assignment, Darren would spend the first thirty minutes sniffing around, getting the lay of the land. But he knew the mansion well. Almost as well as he knew his own house. Which left him to keep an eye out for the man he had come for.

  He had a little under eight hours to locate and neutralize his target. Darren thought that would be a neat trick, since he was only armed with one gun and a small knife, he had no back-up at the party, and his profile of the target was incomplete at best. He had a physical description, a name, and a list of known associates, but it was a Halloween party. The target would be wearing a disguise, and whether it was a simple Halloween costume or an elaborate ruse to keep an operative like Darren from finding him, the effect would be the same.

  Each step he took clicked sharply against the marble floor. There was a reason Jasmine never wore heels, and it had nothing to do with how uncomfortable they were. She couldn’t very well sneak up on somebody when every step was broadcast. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to do too much lurking. Or running. He walked comfortably enough, but running was out of the question. So many things were out of the question when dressed in women’s clothing. The more time he spent in his costume, the more his respect for Jasmine grew.

  He staked out a corner of the main foyer, holding a drink like a shield in front of his face, and watching the steady stream of people in and out of the front and side doors. Later, he would find a new spot out in the garden, but he couldn’t find fault with the corner he had claimed as his own. It afforded him a view of most of the guests and the main exits.

  If things had been different, Darren wouldn’t have been there, invitation be damned. He spent his Halloweens with a group of college buddies who always knew how to put on a party. By this time of the evening, they’d already be drunk. On real alcohol. Not the light frou-frou drinks currently being circulated by strikingly dignified young men in black suits. On the other hand, his buddies never dressed up for Halloween. Especially not in such elaborate and clearly expensive costumes. There wasn’t a drop of fake blood in the room, but what the guests lacked in gore, they made up in pure style.

  He felt stupid in his cat ears. Jasmine had assured him that the Catwoman look was common for women from every walk of life, but clearly he should have been wearing a ball gown from the nineteenth century, or some slinky designer number. Or a school girl costume. That had been one of his options, but he had drawn the line there. It just seemed too…kinky. But stupid cat ears and a stupid felt tail hadn’t seemed too bad, and he’d thought the black makeup on his nose and the drawn-on whiskers near his mouth were quite fetching. Now he thought he just looked cheap. If he could toss away the “costume” and just be himself in drag, he’d impress far more people.

  And blow his cover. Which would be a bad thing because open shots at Aden Richter did not happen every day. In fact, they didn’t happen at all. Darren almost couldn’t believe this was happening now. Not until the man in question walked through the front door.

  Correction. Strutted.

  Aden Richter’s costume wasn’t nearly as elaborate as other guests’, though the black leather pants riding low on his hips had probably cost a small fortune. The glossy material looked painted on, molding over long legs and powerful thighs. Darren gulped at his drink when he saw the obvious bulge and skipped his gaze farther up, over the bare torso. The only thing Aden wore above his waist was a knot of four gold and black necklaces and a guitar slung over his back. Every chiseled muscle was there for the world to see and appreciate. And there were a lot of them.

  He didn’t look like any book dealer Darren had ever seen before, though he did look more than dangerous. The gleam in his clear blue eyes as they swept over the room probably sent more than one pulse racing, not just Darren’s. The man had even refrained from shaving. Nothing oozed sex more than the promise of stubble burn, and while it might have been part of the rock star costume, he had the distinct feeling it was part of the real package.

  Darren suddenly wished he had more intel on the guy. It wasn’t enough to know the man found and sold rare books for a living, or that his rich friends had pulled his ass out of the political fire on two separate occasions, burying crimes that should have been splashed across the headlines for the world to be warned. It wasn’t enough to know he owned a large reserve outside of town with more electronic surveillance and security than the president got. It wasn’t even enough to know the man was a werewolf. Now that he saw Aden Richter in the flesh, Darren’s gut screamed it was going to take more finesse to get thi
s particular job done, finesse that required a few more intimate details.

  He only had tonight. If Aden Richter still breathed at sunrise, things were going to get a hell of a lot worse.

  It was a good thing he was supposed to shadow Aden, because he couldn’t stop staring. But he had to do a lot more than simply gawk at the target. He needed to lure Aden away from the crowd. He wasn’t sure what Aden found attractive, but that didn’t matter. He was a werewolf, oversexed and lust-crazed by nature. An alluring, willing morsel would be too good to pass up. The pheromones Jasmine had provided would be enough to mask his masculine scent, or at least disguise it until it was too late for Aden to do something about it.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.” Darren tested his tone and vocal inflection, trying to find the right register without sounding too obviously fake. He couldn’t help but think he had come this far just to be ruined by his deep voice.

  The party’s host, a city official by the name of Giessen, stopped Aden from joining the full throng in the main room. Laughing, Giessen made him turn around in order to show off the guitar, which positioned Aden to face Darren’s corner directly. Darren stood too far away to hear what was being said, but it was just as well because his blood roared in his ears. He wasn’t ready to be noticed. He needed more time. Every second that ticked by, he expected it to happen. He was in the man’s line of sight, for Christ’s sake. But apparently Aden was too distracted by Giessen’s comments to focus farther away than his host, and he angled sideways as soon as Giessen’s inspection was done.

  Silently, Darren exhaled. The moment he did, Aden’s smile faded, and his head turned back in Darren’s direction.

  This time, Aden’s gaze honed right in on him.

  His pulse doubled, and he knew Aden would hear it. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. A racing heart, a spike of adrenaline in the blood, the dilation of his pupils, all would send clear signals to Aden’s heightened senses. Any other night, he would not reveal himself as prey. But now he nervously petted the hair hanging down over his ears, and his eyes darted from Aden’s face and back again. Now he just hoped the werewolf liked easy prey when he saw it.

  His hopes plummeted when Aden followed Giessen through the double doors leading to the dining room and the bar. At least it gave him a few more minutes to practice on his voice.

  Slipping around the edge of the foyer, Darren downed the rest of his drink so he’d have an excuse to approach the bar. When he stepped into the dining room, however, panic drew him to a halt. Aden was nowhere in sight. Neither was Giessen. The patio doors were splayed wide where the party spilled into the gardens, and a single door at the rear of the room led to what was likely the kitchen. Aden could have gone through either of them. If Darren chose incorrectly, he might lose the target altogether.

  Damn it. He couldn’t get this close only to lose him now.

  Darren forced himself to walk toward the bar calmly, trying to stay alert to everybody entering and exiting the room. If he could move more freely through the house, or if he had back-up, it’d be another story. He could track a werewolf, any werewolf, through running water, if he had to. But not while he was pretending to be a normal girl.

  “Club soda with a lime, please,” Darren said, once he got to the bar.

  The bartender paused and dragged his gaze over Darren’s face. Darren caught his breath and flashed what he hoped was a flirting smile.

  “Designated driver tonight?”

  “Yep. That’s me.”

  He nodded and poured the drink. “Well, have a good time tonight anyway.”

  “I plan to.”

  Stalling for time hadn’t drawn Aden back into the room. He very much doubted there would be any reason for Giessen to take his guest into the kitchen, which left only the gardens as an option. If he stood just outside the patio doors, he could still maintain surveillance on the dining room’s other exits.

  The night was cool, the shadows long as Darren stepped outside. The patio had a polished stone floor, with a low matching wall circling its perimeter and statuary towering like watchdogs. Voices murmured in the darkness, too low to be discernible, but otherwise the area was deserted. Darren chose a spot in a corner by the double doors, one that would allow him to keep an eye on every available exit. After a moment, he sat down and crossed his legs. No reason he couldn’t rest his feet while he waited.

  “So which part is supposed to be your costume?” The deep silken voice came from just behind him, close enough to his ear that Darren felt the hot breath. “The tail or the dress itself?”

  “The tail, of course,” Darren said, resisting the temptation to turn around and confirm the speaker’s identity.

  He felt a slight tug at the back of his skirt, and a broad hand appeared in front of him as the man flicked the tail across the top of Darren’s thighs. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I’m very good at keeping secrets.” Something hard and broad pressed slightly against Darren’s shoulders. The stranger must have leaned forward. “Especially for someone as delicious as you.”

  “Well, that’s very considerate of you.” Darren risked tilting his head back and to the side, which allowed him to have a view of Aden’s profile. He was even more gorgeous this close. Darren tried to dismiss that thought, but he wasn’t blind. He couldn’t deny his own eyes. “I wondered if you noticed me inside.”

  “Wasn’t I supposed to?” The tail dropped lightly against his leg. So did Aden’s fingers. He caressed back and forth along the inside of Darren’s knee. “Any time an Argenti agent shows up in the same place I am, it’s not an accident.”

  “Argenti?” Darren licked his lips and almost winced at the unfamiliar taste of lipstick. “Maybe you have me confused with somebody else?”

  “I don’t think so.” The hand on his leg moved in a blur. Darren never even felt him pull the knife from the sheath strapped to his thigh. The silver blade glittered for a moment before Aden tossed it into the darkness. “Who else would come armed to one of Giessen’s Halloween parties?”

  Fuckity fuck. Losing the knife wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure made life more difficult. “A girl who’s been to one of Giessen’s parties before, I’d imagine. Or maybe somebody who thinks she might get groped in the dark by a stranger.”

  “So scream. Call for help. Or walk away. If you don’t want my attention, that’s all you have to do.” Aden pulled the edge of Darren’s wig away from his shoulder and tipped his head downward. The tip of his tongue traced along the exposed skin. “I’m not interested in anyone who doesn’t want me.”

  Even without the knife, Darren wasn’t helpless. He could slam his fist into Aden’s face, send him toppling him backward, and then pin him to the ground. He was certainly strong enough to do that. If he wanted to. And he did. He absolutely wanted to complete this mission and go home with as little fuss as possible. Just as soon as Aden finished licking his shoulder.

  “It so happens that this once, I don’t mind being groped by strangers in the dark.”

  Aden’s chuckle rumbled through Darren. “Of course, you don’t. Because then your mission would fail.” He tattooed every word into Darren’s skin, his lips refusing to abandon the contact. “But I think you’ll find I don’t go silently into the night, gorgeous.”

  Darren coughed, trying to clear the tickle in his throat. The altogether ridiculous tickle in his throat. “Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to. What fun would that be?”

  “Is that what this is?” His hand was back on Darren’s thigh. It shouldn’t have felt so hot through the net stockings, but each almost gentle sweep scorched a brand new path. “Fun?”

  “Of course. It’s a party, after all.”

  Darren closed his hands in his fists, not because he planned to punch Aden, but because he wanted to touch Aden with the same sort of slow, intimate caresses. It was werewolf magic. It had to be. He wasn’t aware of any such thing as werewolf magic, and there were no recorded reports of werewolves putting their victims in a tran
ce, but how else could he explain what Aden was doing to him?

  “Aren’t you having fun?”

  Another reverberating chuckle, this one somehow deeper than before. “I imagine my sort of fun and your sort of fun might not necessarily be the same.”

  The pressure against his back changed, shifting to the side. He didn’t need to turn his head to know Aden had sat next to him, his back facing the patio, his legs still lost under the blanket of darkness. The guitar was gone, so now not even a strap disrupted the hard ripple of his chest. But Aden’s hands kept moving, distracting Darren from the temptation of his body. The one on his leg crept higher and higher, while its mate slipped along the back of Darren’s neck.

  “So what’s Plan B?” Aden asked softly. “You can’t stab me now, so…how do you intend to take me down?”

  “I guess I’ll just have to bide my time…strike when you least expect it.” Balling his hands into fists wasn’t working anymore. His fingers crept over Aden’s hip, his pinky brushing across the ridges of his abdomen. He covered Aden’s hand with his free fingers, stopping him from continuing the journey up Darren’s thigh. “When you’re otherwise distracted.”

  “Or I could kill you here and now.” The threat came in the same seductive tone as his earlier compliments. “That might be fun, too.”

  “You could try, sunshine. But if you know I work for Argenti, then you know it’s not as simple as that.”

  His teeth flashed white as he smiled. “Which is why it would be fun.”

  Darren moved his hand over Aden’s thigh. Aden’s strong, muscled thigh. His fingertips brushed against his undeniable erection, and a thrill went up his arm. He had intended to search for weapons, but now he was far too distracted by the line of his thick cock. “Well, that’s a pity, because it seems like this would be more fun.”

  “Yes,” came the murmured response. “I think it would be.”

  Before Darren had time to react, Aden closed the distance between them and took his mouth in lingering caress. He tightened his grip on the back of Darren’s neck, making it impossible to break away from the kiss, but the firm probe of Aden’s tongue was even more difficult to deny.