Mission: Her Justice

by Anna Hackett

  “Winkleman.” Jonah shook the wealthy casino owner’s hand.

  “There are some people I’d like to introduce you to. Been discussing the redevelopment plans for the Westgate Project.”

  Time to start hobnobbing.

  Jonah shook hands and talked politely, smiled, and gave vague answers when required. He also turned down several requests to dance, and one more blatant invitation where a woman in a slinky, gold dress slipped her room key into his pocket.

  His work kept him too busy for dating. He kept sex simple, without entanglements, when he had the time. He sipped his champagne again. Lately, he had no time, or inclination.

  He caught a glimpse of bright aquamarine. A woman with long, long legs in a tight, glittery, blue dress was moving through the crowd.

  The partygoers shifted and Jonah found his gaze searching for another glimpse of her.

  There. Her back was to him, but he appreciated the view. She had killer legs and a toned ass. His gaze moved up and he stilled. Copper-red hair fell just past her shoulders.

  God, he was seeing his redhead everywhere. His fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. Damn, now his team had him calling her his.

  The woman turned her head, looking back over a slim shoulder.

  Their gazes met.

  Jonah stiffened.

  It was her.

  He took a step forward. The crowd shifted and he lost sight of her.

  Dammit. He set his glass down and shoved past people, earning him a few startled exclamations.

  There was no sign of her.

  He scanned the room. There. A flash of aquamarine heading out through the glass doors onto the restaurant’s new balcony.

  Jaw tight, Jonah followed.

  You’re not getting away this time.

  Chapter Two

  Evan Fletcher hurried out onto the balcony, skirting a couple out enjoying the view. A breeze tugged at her hair, but her dress was far too snug for it to move.

  She walked quickly, not bothering to look down at the dancing fountains of the Bellagio. She found a shadowed spot and spun into the darkness. She was good at blending, hiding, and disappearing when she needed to. The CIA had taught her well.

  Just the thought of the Agency, the place where she’d dedicated her entire life to protecting her country, made her throat tight.

  Shrug it off, Evan. You need to focus.

  Then he stepped out onto the balcony.

  Wow, he really did pack a punch. Evan had seen some handsome men in her life, but Jonah Grayson was in a league of his own. At first glance, he was a typical tall, dark, and handsome male, but it was more than just his very fine looks. There was the lean, muscular body under the perfectly fitted tuxedo. And the way he moved screamed predator. This man knew how to use that body of his. Probably in lots of different ways.

  His face was gorgeous and interesting, with coal-black hair that was impeccably cut. His features were rawly masculine, with lots of angles, and high cheekbones. She could see his Native American heritage stamped on that handsome face.

  Evan felt a stir of heat in her belly. Yeah, yeah, he’s six-feet-something of delicious, hormone-scrambling male.

  But it was more than that. As his gaze scanned the balcony intently, she realized it was his presence. Strength, power, and her catnip, danger, radiated off him. Oh yes, this man was dangerous.

  His gaze found her, lingered.

  Then he strode toward her. Evan moved to meet him.

  “You,” he breathed.

  “Me.”

  There were only inches between them.

  “I hope you tightened security for your team,” she said.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  She tossed her hair back. “That doesn’t matter. You need to listen to me—”

  “Vague warnings don’t help. I need to know the source of this alleged threat.”

  “There’s nothing alleged about it.” Damn, she couldn’t tell him. The minute she told him about the CIA, or rather the fact that she’d been dragged through the mud and betrayed, he’d stop listening. “Director Grayson—”

  He moved closer. A crisp, sexy cologne tickled her nose, making her think of two bodies straining in the dark, desperately stripping off their clothes.

  Jesus, get a grip, Evan. Head in the game.

  “You know my name.” He gripped her arms. “I want yours.”

  His fingers on her skin felt like an electric shock. She sucked in a breath. She saw the echo of that connection in his eyes.

  She reached up and gripped his strong wrists, but when she pushed, he didn’t budge. Oh yes, there was strength in that body.

  “It’s not important who I am. All you need to know is that someone powerful, with influence, and who should be a good guy, is working toward his own ends. Working with some dangerous people.”

  Jonah cocked his head. “Go on.”

  “He wants a powerful artifact, and he wants Team 52 out of the way so he can get it.”

  “Who?”

  Shit, he’d keep pushing. If she spilled, he’d find out who she was, and then he wouldn’t believe her.

  “Listen, the danger could come from anywhere—”

  “I told you, I need more than nebulous warnings,” he growled. “I can’t do anything with this.”

  “He’s devious,” she whispered. “Dangerous.”

  She’d trusted Brennan, and he’d destroyed her reputation, her career, everything.

  Jonah’s face sharpened, his fingers easing up on her skin. “Did he hurt you?”

  Evan turned her head, staring blindly at the view. A morass of rage, helplessness, disbelief, sadness, and disappointment rose in her. It sat like a rock in her throat. She released one of Jonah’s wrists, finding herself strangely reluctant to let him go, and gripped her necklace. She ran her fingers over the blue pendant, trying to find some sense of calm.

  She blinked, looking at the blinding lights in the buildings of the Strip. “He’s ruthless. The danger can come from anywhere, when you least expect it.”

  “I can help you.”

  She met Jonah’s piercing, green eyes in his fascinating face. “It’s too late for me.”

  Swallowing, Evan looked over at the Bellagio. Suddenly, she caught a wink of light on the rooftop. Without thinking, she moved, shoving into Jonah.

  A bullet whizzed past her ear and hit the plate-glass window behind her. It didn’t shatter, but left a starburst pattern in the bullet’s wake.

  She heard Jonah curse.

  Evan leaped on him, and they crashed to the ground, her body on top of his. Bullets struck around them, and somewhere, she heard a woman scream.

  Jonah’s body tensed beneath her.

  “Stay down,” she snapped.

  Evan rolled off him and moved quickly. Hunched over, she raced across the balcony and back inside.

  Grayson would be safe as long as he kept his head down. She needed to be long gone before the authorities arrived.

  She moved through the panicked crowd and glanced back.

  An angry Jonah was inside, his gaze sweeping the room. Searching for her.

  Evan slipped into the stairwell.

  She felt dampness on her face and touched her cheek. Blood. Some glass must have hit her. It wasn’t bad.

  She went down several flights, then found the bag that she’d stashed under the stairs. She pulled out a thin, silky, black coat. She slipped it on, and it covered every inch of her aquamarine dress. She kept walking down the stairs, tugging her hair up. Then she pulled on the short, blonde wig.

  She’d gone from a redhead in blue, to a blonde in black. When she reached the bottom, cops were already pulling up in front of the casino.

  Evan slipped into the gathering crowd of curious onlookers on the sidewalk.

  It took a while, but she watched the partygoers starting to appear, looking shaken and shocked. Then she saw Jonah, and she swallowed. He was fine. He was talking with a rugged, attractive police detectiv
e.

  Jonah’s keen gaze moved over the crowd, and she made herself stay still, relaxed.

  His gaze skated over her. He wasn’t looking for a blonde.

  She heard the roar of a motorbike, and watched a Ducati pull to a stop nearby. The man who swung off it was built and powerful. He pulled his helmet off and she recognized him. Lachlan Hunter—Team 52’s leader. Evan had dossiers on every team member.

  Another man appeared out of the crowd, striding toward Grayson. He had some wicked scars on one side of his face. Seth Lynch. She’d met him once at the CIA, before he’d left and joined Team 52. He hadn’t been a field agent like her, but rather worked for the Special Activities Center—the CIA’s special operations team. He was damn good.

  And finally, a tough woman with long, blonde hair in a ponytail strode out of the crowd and joined Hunter. Evan couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she guessed it was Blair Mason. The pair approached the others. The police detective turned, gripped the back of the woman’s neck and pulled her in for a quick kiss.

  Yes, that was Mason, and her man, Detective Luke MacKade. The detective was Team 52’s LVMPD contact.

  Jonah was definitely safe with his team.

  Evan turned, melting into the crowd. Brennan had tried to take Jonah out. It made sense. His death would disrupt Team 52 in a huge way.

  Brennan had to be stopped.

  I’m coming for you, you asshole.

  Jonah pressed his card to the reader at the secure gate in the quiet corner of the McCarran International Airport.

  He drove his Jaguar F-Type up to a squat, ugly, concrete building, its lights shining in the darkness. It was Team 52’s base of operations in Las Vegas, and they called it the Bunker.

  He parked the car and turned off the engine, resting his hands on the steering wheel. He sat for a second. He still wore his tux, although he’d yanked off his bowtie after the debacle at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant.

  Dammit. He’d had her. He’d had his hands on her. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

  He wondered if she’d been hit. He’d found the tiniest drop of blood on the balcony. Not enough for it to have come from a bad wound, but something had hit her, because it wasn’t his blood.

  He shoved the car door open and strode toward the Bunker. He pressed his palm to the door lock and waited for it to beep.

  Inside, Callie was at the coffee machine. She turned and scowled at him. “You ruined our date night.”

  “Sorry.” No one else was at the Bunker at this time of night. This was Kinsey’s domain, and he saw the touches of her in the neatly organized desk, and a vase filled with bright-yellow flowers.

  “You don’t sound sorry,” Callie said.

  “I need Brooks.”

  Callie’s gaze ran over him. “You’re okay? Heard you got shot at.”

  Ever the medic. “I’m fine.” There was barely leashed anger in his voice. He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

  He found Brooks in the conference room, fingers flying over a keyboard. Two large screens covered one wall, one running a search, and the other filled with security footage from the Eiffel Tower Restaurant.

  “Hey.” Brooks looked up. His dark-framed glasses dominated his face and he wore a rumpled red T-shirt with two stormtroopers on it, cradling a baby stormtrooper. Brooks’ shirt collection was legendary. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” Jonah replied. “I’ll be better when we find her. Have you got anything?”

  “I’m going through the security footage from the casino now.”

  “That was fast.” Often, casino security was hard to deal with.

  Brooks grinned. “I didn’t ask.”

  “He hacked.” Callie set a mug of coffee down beside her boyfriend, then handed one to Jonah.

  He murmured his thanks and sipped.

  “We don’t have more than glimpses of her inside the party.” Brooks pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “She knew where the cameras were. We didn’t get her face.”

  Damn, she was good. Jonah’s fingers tightened on the mug. Who the hell was she?

  “The best shot is of the two of you on the balcony,” Brooks said.

  “We’ll have to go there for dinner sometime.” Callie leaned against the table.

  “You in a sexy dress and heels.” Brooks got a look on his face.

  Ignoring them, Jonah studied the image that flashed up.

  “You make a striking couple,” Callie murmured.

  What the hell? “Brooks, what’s wrong with the image?” The woman’s fantastic body was clear, but her face was just a bright glow. He couldn’t make out her features.

  “I know.” The tech guru blew out a breath. “She must have been wearing some sort of tech to distort facial recognition. I know of some devices, but they’re clunky. Whatever she’s using, I haven’t seen it before.”

  “She was wearing a necklace. It had a blue stone in the center.”

  Brooks nodded. “Some sort of projector, maybe.”

  Callie watched the footage. “She lured you out onto the balcony.” Callie arched a dark brow. “Right into position for a sniper to take a shot.”

  Had the redhead tried to kill him? The thought had definitely crossed Jonah’s mind on the drive to the Bunker. He wondered if he was letting his own past affect his judgment with this woman. “She pushed me out of the way.”

  “So maybe she saved you?” Brooks mused.

  “Possibly. She got nicked.” Jonah pulled a small vial containing a Q-tip coated with blood out of his pocket. “There was a tiny drop of blood on the tiles.”

  Brooks took it. “I’ll get it to Ty. I highly doubt that with her skills that she’s in a database, but we can try.”

  Jonah stared at that blurry face, the same question he’d already asked himself a million times, echoing in his head. Who the hell are you?

  “Maybe she still set this up,” Callie said. “The sniper shoots you, the redhead—” Callie made air quotes with her fingers “—saves you. Trying to gain your trust.”

  Shit. It wasn’t a bad theory. Right now, Jonah had more questions than he did answers. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “See if you can clean up the image. And if you hear anything on the DNA, then let me know.”

  Brooks gave one short nod. “Sure thing.”

  “Get some sleep, Jonah,” Callie said. “I know that this woman has been stressing you out.”

  “She warned me again that the team is in danger. A powerful man is after an artifact and doesn’t want us to interfere. All I have are vague warnings, nothing concrete.”

  Callie and Brooks shared a look. Several members of the team had been targeted in the past. It wasn’t fun for any of them, and now they all had loved ones to protect.

  “We’re tough, Jonah,” the medic said. “The best at what we do. It’ll take more than a shadowy bogeyman to take us down.”

  “Or a hot redhead,” Brooks added.

  Callie elbowed him.

  “Not as hot as you, baby.” He grinned. “I’m just stating facts here.”

  “You two go home,” Jonah said. “Thanks for coming out. And Callie, I am sorry that I ruined date night.”

  “I blame the redhead.”

  Soon, Jonah was back in his Jag, driving back to his penthouse. He’d grown up poor, then joined the Army to go to college and learn to fly. As a boy, flying had been his dream. At first, he’d wanted to be an astronaut, or a fighter pilot, but when he’d learned that it was the Army’s elite aviators that flew SEALs and other special forces soldiers into combat, he’d joined the Army.

  He’d made a vow to help keep people safe, and another private one to never be poor again.

  As an Army pilot, he’d saved all his money and learned everything he could about investing. As a single guy, living on base, he could take a few risks. Some of those had paid off, and now he was well beyond comfortable.

  But he never forgot where he came from.

&nbs
p; He pulled up at his condo tower, just east of the Strip. A valet raced out to meet him.

  “Good evening, Mr. Grayson.”

  “Evening, Raj.”

  “Hope you had a good night.”

  “Not really.” Jonah handed over the keys.

  He had an arrangement with his condo building—his car was parked in a secure, locked area of the garage, and only certain, vetted valets had access to the keys. Security also ran several checks for explosives or other tampering daily.

  “Woman trouble.” The young valet nodded sagely. “I’ve seen the look before.”

  Jonah’s lips twitched. “There is a redhead playing hard to get.”

  “Ahh, women. Damn their gorgeous hides.”

  Shaking his head, Jonah made his way to his private elevator. He pressed his palm to the panel and headed up. The elevator opened directly into his penthouse.

  The open-concept living area had high ceilings and parquet wooden floors. His kitchen and living area were done in elegant shades of brown.

  Heading over to his built-in bar, he took out a glass and grabbed his bottle of Hennessey. He scooped some ice into the glass, then poured a generous splash of cognac. He headed to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

  He didn’t focus on the bright, blinking lights of the Las Vegas Observation Wheel or the casinos. Instead, he looked to the darkness of the mountains on the horizon.

  He sipped the cognac, savored the burn, and against his will, his thoughts turned to his quarry.

  Flawless face, bold and strong features. Pale, pale skin. All too easily, he remembered the feel of her under his palms. His skin itched like he’d gotten too close to a fire.

  The feel of her pressed against him when they’d hit the ground… His cock stirred, desire like flickering flames in his gut.

  Jonah knocked back the rest of his drink.

  Shit, just what he needed. He was attracted to a woman who might have tried to kill him.

  But that wouldn’t save her. If she was a threat to him or his team, Jonah would take her down.

  Chapter Three

  The day was baking hot as Evan walked down the street in downtown Las Vegas.