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 was 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 cess-pool 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 br**sts and rode high above the waistband of her pants. Her ni**les 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 ni**les were spike hard and dying for more than her own touch. Her sex felt hot, swollen, her cl*t 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.