Circle of Danger (23 page)

She suspected there was more to the story about the drug—Morning Glory—that had been forced on him than he would ever tell her.

He sighed. “They reported before we took to the air. She wasn't on the island. No trace of her.”

“No! You have to find her. She'll do it again! We've got to stop her before she kills more people.” Marie struggled to sit up.

“Shh! We'll find her.” He pulled her tighter and kissed her forehead. “First, we'll go home. You need to recover. Then we'll plan. She won't be hidden long. The woman loves attention too much. It'll be her downfall.”

“Ryker.” She touched the spot he kissed. “We need to talk now.”

He looked at Jack and Ice. “Not now.”

“Yes. Now.”

“Okay.” His face went blank.

Poor baby. He thought she was about to give him bad news. Maybe in a way, but he really needed to understand her feelings about their new relationship. Yes. A real relationship, not just her hero-worshiping him.

“I've decided field work isn't for me. My run of luck has been all bad. I think I'd rather do most of my work from Sector. Not in the Dungeon, but as a handler.”

He released his breath. “Okay.”

She fought the grin wanting to burst on her face. “And I want you to quit protecting me.”

“That's not going to happen.” His chin tucked in as he prepared to argue.

“No negotiation. I don't want you bossing me around every moment of every day.”

“I don't boss you.”

Jack emitted a sound between a chuckle and a cough. When Marie looked at him, he hit his chest with a fist. “Freaking allergies.”

Ryker snorted.

Her attention returned to the hard-headed man holding her. “You do. We'll talk more about that when we're alone.”

He muttered, “That's what I had wanted to do in the first place.”

“I'm not going to marry you.” She might as well get it out in the open.

“I don't remember asking you.”

She lifted an eyebrow and stared at him in disbelief.

“Damn it! You're not playing fair.” He swiped over his mouth and stubble.

“You've got to be kidding me.” She giggled and punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” With a crooked grin, he winked at her. “But you'll marry me when I ask, right?”

“We'll see. A girl has to leave her options open.”

“Looks like I'll need to stay on my toes around you.”

“You betcha.” She clasped the sides of his head and pulled his mouth to hers.

 

C
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T
WENTY-
S
EVEN

T
he brilliantly colored dresses swirled by as Marie stood to the side. She moved a little closer to where the air conditioning tried to cool the overcrowded ballroom. The gilt-framed mirrors reflected rainbows from the dancers and the crystal chandeliers above them. Over two hundred of The Circle operatives and service personnel laughed and ate with abandon. An unheard-of event: The Circle giving a party to celebrate their leader's marriage to one of their own.

Marie laughed. A week after they returned, Ryker had demanded she marry him. When she said no, he'd stomped off, slamming the bedroom door. Several days later, he ordered her to accept his proposal the second time. She merely crossed her arms and stared at him until he walked away, pulling at his hair in frustration. On his third try, he fell to his knee and politely asked her to be his, and she said yes. From the surprise on his face, he'd expected failure. She was glad to put the fellow out of his misery. For that matter, she'd been miserable too. Why she thought he needed to ask her properly, she wasn't sure. Maybe she deserved a little romance after the ordeal with Blossom Flower.

A month later, they got married, and here they were celebrating with all their friends. Even Collin and Olivia attended the ceremony with one of the orphans they'd adopted, a one-year-old girl with auburn curls and mischievous dimples. If they hadn't known better, everyone would have sworn she was the couple's own flesh and blood.

“I've never seen you so happy, Marie.” Olivia stood beside her, while her husband held their sleeping daughter to his shoulder.

“I am. And the same to you. She's beautiful.” The thought of two dangerous people tenderly caring for such a tiny person . . . it was hard to believe. “You named her Emma after Collin's mom, right?”

“Yes. I could only think of saint names, and Collin stopped me and said he wanted our child to have his mom's name.” Tears came to the woman's eyes. “
Our child
. The man surprises me every day. I'm so fortunate.”

“We do owe their parents a lot. They brought up two boys who went through hell and still kept their humanity.”

“Yeah. Enough of the mushy stuff. I see your new husband wants your attention. And Collin is giving me that look. He hates for Emma to be up so late. He gets cranky when he doesn't get a nap.” Olivia hugged her and then grabbed her husband's arm as they headed toward the doors. The two grown-ups stumbled as they stopped to pick up the little black patent shoes falling from their daughter's feet.

Marie laughed with delight.

“It's not nice to laugh at those who dance like a bear.” Ryker nodded toward Rex as he stopped beside her.

The new second-in-command stepped on the toes of his partner, Nic Savage. Nic gazed up adoringly at Rex. At six-foot-five, he towered over the small woman. She was actually an inch taller than Marie, but with her pixie-cut black hair, she looked even shorter.

At first, Marie felt uncomfortable around the big man, but his roar hid a soft heart. She was surprised to realize he no longer trailed after A. J. After seeing their argument at Collin and Olivia's country home, she expected the couple to work things out. Nic was nice enough, but . . . she couldn't put her finger on it. As improbable as she had thought it when she'd first met the woman, A. J. turned out to be a good friend. With Charlie leaving to work with Jack at the new OS facility in Atlanta—Liam had been sent to the Northern Sector as punishment until Ryker believed he learned true loyalty—Marie had been at loose ends until she started training with A. J. A person never knew when she would need to use a gun and knife again. Though she still worked behind a computer monitor, she loved being a handler, and Sal said she was a fast learner.

Ice had disappeared. Though Marie had overheard Ryker and Collin talking about how he was probably tracking down his wayward half-sister, they only hoped it had nothing to do with them still not finding Letitia.

Yet, her destroyed lab revealed that there was no known antidote for the drug. But with the new anxiety medicine Doc had prescribed, the drug was losing its control, and he estimated within a year they both would be free from any aftereffects.

Marie covered her mouth. She had to say, hers and Ryker's love life hadn't slowed down. They'd embarrassed Jack several times when he'd walked into Ryker's office unannounced.

Jack. She missed him. When Collin had visited not long after they returned from Florida, he and Ryker had argued. She learned that Ryker's brother planned to hand over the OS to him within the next few months. In the meanwhile, he'd expected Rex to control the specialized newly returned branch of The Circle. She'd remembered Ryker mentioning it before, but hadn't realized to what extent.

“Baby, are you all right?”

She loved how Ryker showed his affection for her without worrying what others thought.

“I'm glad Jack could make it.”

“Humph.” Though Ryker trusted Jack with the OS, part of the motivation of his new position might be wrapped in how far away he was from her. Yet, tonight Jack stood on the other side of the ballroom and A. J. danced in his arms. They were laughing hard, and the glares they received from Rex told a lot.

“I think Jack better be careful. His brother doesn't look too happy with him right now.” She glanced back at Rex. “For that matter, A. J. may need to keep an eye on Nic. The woman is shooting daggers at her. Obviously, she doesn't like Rex paying attention to A. J. Those four appear to have some problems to work out.”

As the music stopped, the dark-headed woman pulled on Rex's hand when he made a step toward the jolly couple.

“Brothers can be a pain in the ass.” Ryker downed the last bit of his wine. “Want to dance?”

“I would love to.” She handed her glass over to a waiter walking by and hooked her arm into Ryker's. The next song was a slow one. He enveloped her in his arms. “Thank goodness, you're not as tall as Rex. You would look like a bear dancing too.”

He laughed, and everyone turned to stare in shock.

R
yker grinned, not caring what others thought. If only she knew that he would dance to any tune she wanted. He loved her more than his own life. She'd already proven how valuable his life was to her back in the Everglades.

“How soon can we leave the party?” she asked, tugging hard on his goatee.

“Ouch!” He instantly hardened. “Right now, if you want.”

“Good. I want you.”

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “You really need to learn to say three new words.”

“I'm all yours?”

“Close.”

He grinned, knowing she never got tired of him saying it. For that matter, neither did he.

“I love you?”

“Those are the ones, but with feeling,” she teased.

“I love you, Mrs. Marie Ryker.”

“Aww, now that's more like it.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

He knew who was mistress of his heart.

 

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

G
oodness, where do I start? To Wendy Lee, whom I wish much success in her new endeavor. Chelsey Emmelhainz, who thankfully has a sense of humor and isn't freaked out by my peculiarities. Nalini Akolekar, who guides me with a calm and kind hand. To my beta readers, who continue to help me: Candi Moody and Terri Nguyen. To my family, who harass . . . uh . . . encourage strangers to buy my books: Gayle Pirtle, Greg and Wanda Reese, Patsy O'Dell, Rita Dunaway, Kim O'Rear, Evelyn Shaw, Daniel Ray, and of course, my daughters, Candice and Audrey. To my mom and dad, whom I love. To my husband, who is cooking his own meals while I write and diet.

 

See how The Circle began . . .

As the top assassin at The Circle, a shadowy group of mercenaries, Olivia St. Vincent can hunt down anyone. She's been trained since she was a teenager to kill without feeling, to interact with men without love. But when she's kidnapped by the enigmatic leader of a rival organization, she learns she's been lied to for years. She never worked for the good guys.

Collin Ryker believes the sultry woman he's abducted knows more than she's telling about The Circle and its plans for complete domination. Over time, as they work together, Olivia's tenacity and vulnerability captivate him. But if he isn't careful, Collin will fall into the biggest trap of all: caring for a woman who can betray him to his greatest enemy.

Read on for an excerpt from the first Circle novel,

CIRCLE OF DESIRE,

available now from Avon Impulse!

 

C
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O
livia St. Vincent typed the ammunition data into the keypad on the sniper rifle and then nestled her cheek against the stock's custom-fit pad. She waited for the information to be processed and her target to come into view.

Keeping her attention on the boardwalk outside the open window, she caressed the silencer attachment and sighed. Powerful and lightweight compared to others, the rifle was her favorite and the only one of its kind. She wasn't sure how The Circle got their hands on the prototype, and she knew better than to ask. She'd used it twice in the last eleven months and had no complaints.

She inhaled the fresh salt air coming in and watched the few early joggers trotting along the boardwalk next to Elliot Bay. Almost the whole length was visible from the empty fourth story apartment. A strong wind picked up and splattered water off the windowsill onto her hands and the rifle even though she sat a good three feet from the opening. She grabbed a soft cotton cloth and stroked off the liquid. It had rained for ten days straight since she'd arrived in Seattle, and only twenty minutes ago had it stopped. To the north, a break in the clouds showed deep blue sky. A miracle. Good grief, she couldn't wait to get back home to Atlanta.

One moment, she was running her fingers across black metal, enjoying the bumpy finish. In the next, she was aiming at her target, taking a deep breath and then releasing it, relaxing, holding her trigger finger steady. He'd crossed the street and started down the boardwalk. Five foot eleven with a well-proportioned torso, he always wore the same dingy sneakers with orange Day-Glo stripes.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and inhaled. Time to concentrate on the job. The Circle had given her orders to eliminate him, and she was programmed to follow. Later she'd hear he was a child molester or a killer like herself. Why she should care one way or the other, she wasn't sure. Maybe knowing helped her sleep at night. Not that it would matter otherwise; she was a killer and good at what she did. She never really had a choice.

She waited as he'd jogged a little past the half-mile mark. His feet pounded in a steady rhythm as the early morning light glistened on shifting muscles. Like clockwork every day, he hit the pavement at sunrise, jogging down the same area. Only thing about predictability, it could be deadly.

The area around him was clear, no one nearby. He turned down a short pier. Only a few feet more and he would be at the mark. She cleared her mind and inhaled, holding her breath for the fraction of a second. She squeezed the trigger. The jogger's body continued straight ahead, propelled by the bullet's trajectory, and then he toppled off the edge of the pier and splashed into the water as his god-awful shoes tumbled across the boardwalk. Perfect shot. That was why they sent her.

Once she pressed a couple buttons on the gun's microcomputer, she scooted away from the tripod and stretched with arms up, bending her back, getting the kinks out. Her back popped. After an hour in one position, it was no wonder her body protested, no matter how much she worked out. She shook her head when the image of the body landing in the water tried to resurface. Think of the good she carried out. Her job eliminated those who preyed on the weak. She performed as a tool for the greater good.

Yes. That was it. She was a tool.

Thinking of tools, she smirked at the gun. The usual brutal recoil dampened by the hydraulic system always surprised her. The rifle worked like it should with little firing signature, a thump of air and only a small amount of flash at the end of the barrel. The suppresser did its job. Unless someone stared directly at her open window and caught the small flare, nothing gave away her location.

Damn! If she'd been a man, she would have a hard-on now. She loved her gun. Objects she could control. People were a different factor.

As she closed the window, a warm breeze caressed the fine hairs on her arm. She shivered. Yeah, she was ready to relieve the pressure that had been building up inside. Playing the waiting game and finishing the job always sent her seeking the only outlet from all the tension. Others used alcohol or drugs to forget for a little while what they'd done. Sex with an anonymous handsome stranger was her drug of choice. Someone clueless about what she did for a living. Someone who held her as she used them for release.

She looked out the window at the crowd gathering at the end of the pier. She jerked her gaze away. Concentrate on anything but the finished job. Think of the gun she loved to control. Think of the power she held. Think about sex. A strong, hard, hot male body always helped. Think about getting away and planning the next job.

She reached out and caressed the two marks she'd made on the butt of the rifle.
Time for a third
. Her fingers shook; tears threatened her composure. Drawing her hand into a fist, she took a few deep breaths and then with well-practiced precision broke down the rifle and placed the sections into her luggage. Another tremor started at her hand and vibrated down her torso, before she knew it her whole body shook. Why couldn't her body cooperate? She'd done worse, been worse. Taking several more deep breaths, she closed her eyes and imagined a swing on a long porch, pushing against the wooden floor with a bare toe. Back and forth. Finally, the shaking stopped, and she swiped at her forehead, surprised by the sweat she found there.

She glanced at her watch. Time to get her act together and pick up speed. By the time the authorities responded to a passerby's 911 call, she needed to be on the road, heading to I-90 and Denver. Unless someone noticed the spray of blood before he landed in the water, they would be clueless that he'd been hit by a sniper until they dragged the body out of the water.

Inside ten minutes, she sauntered out of the fingerprint-cleaned apartment, pulling a rolling safari-chic suitcase behind her while clutching a large tote on her shoulder. The black linen pants, tailored black silk blouse, and auburn hair piled on top of her head shouted business trip.

The clouds in the blue sky had separated allowing the sun to peek between the breaks. Emergency vehicles zoomed by and their echoing sirens bounced off the buildings. They headed toward the boardwalk further down the street as a small crowd pointed at the water.

About the time she walked the block and half to the parking deck and threw the luggage into the trunk of her rental, her cell phone vibrated.

“Yes, sugar booger.” She loved irritating the hell out of her handler.

Jason Kastler thought he was God's gift to women, and she took every opportunity to remind him his good looks were good only for one thing, to play a Romeo, an operative who seduced women for information. Whenever he walked into a room, women watched his every move as if he was a walking sex toy. He hated it when she reminded him that men stared too. With his sun-kissed blond hair, vivid blue eyes, and six foot six frame, he needed someone carving off his massive ego.

“Sugar booger? Christ, woman, can't you be the least bit respectful?” His growl revved her engine.

Good looking
and
an orgasmic-inducing voice. It really was a shame. She could use him at the moment, though it would never happen. He liked to be the one in control. One thing about her, she always relished being the one on top.

“Respect is earned, doll. The job's done, and I'm heading to my next assignment's location. I already have a plan. Should take me a couple months to set up. I just need to scout the area,” she said, ready to move on.

She tossed her purse to the passenger side and then slammed the driver's side door. Wasting no time, she had the cell phone plugged into the radio's speakers before cranking up the car. The state of Washington had a hands-free cell-phone law and ironically, considering her job, she followed all the traffic laws. The last thing she needed was to be pulled over for a minor infraction and be caught with the sniper rifle and numerous other weapons hidden on her person and in the rental.

“Change of plans . . . Theo wants you to return to the office. We have a ticket waiting for you at the airport.” He was smiling. That light tone shouted his enjoyment in frustrating her.

She shut her eyes for a moment, anxiety curled in her stomach; he knew how much she hated flying. Not counting the up and down of the plane, the arranging for her arsenal to be shipped across country without her was a pain in the ass. The roar of the plane's engines didn't help the defenseless feeling.

Being ordered off an assignment by Theo was a bad sign. She avoided any face-to-face with him as much as possible. Hell, she'd worked hard for her freedom and for the last couple of years he rarely required her presence. So this meant something bad. Last time he'd made the demand, it had taken her a week to recover. He wasn't an easy man to please, and she no longer cared about satisfying his perversions. From the orphanage to the streets to Theo's control, there was always somebody waiting to use her, to take advantage of her. No more. She wouldn't go back to being that girl, begging for kindness and love. She squeezed her eyes closed, blocking out the images. No more. She dreaded being that needy little girl again. Tears welled up, threatening to spill.

Inhale. Exhale. Worrying wouldn't help. She struggled to regain her usual calm, steady façade. She took several more deep breaths, hoping it stopped the feeling of panic engulfing her. Pressure applied by her fingertips on the corner of her eyes pushed back the tears.

Olivia knew it was useless to argue. Operatives never won arguments against Circle handlers; disagreeing too much could be unhealthy. People had been known to disappear.

“Okay. Tell me which airline.” She took another deep breath.

As he spit out the instructions, she turned the car toward a local UPS store and made her plans. Two hours later she boarded the plane, and all her weapons, including her gun, were on their way in several parts to her home in Georgia.

She settled into her first-class seat. After questioning the flight attendant, she learned the plane was full for the nonstop flight to Atlanta. She hated it when the seat next to her was used. No elbow room. Not that she was tall—a mere average height of five foot five—or big—roughly a hundred and twenty pounds. She didn't like strangers rubbing against her and often took the window seat, not for the view since she usually pulled down the shade, but so she could lean against the wall of the cabin, putting as much distance between her and the next seat. First-class seats were wide enough she could even pull her feet up beside her, but she always loved more room.

Pretending to stare out the window, she waited for the rest of the plane to load. One drawback to first class was having every man and woman file by, staring at those seated in the more expensive rows. Bloody hell, wouldn't they hurry up? She hated the closed-in feeling, the helplessness, the sitting and waiting, the curious looks. Couldn't the freaking flight attendants help the tourists place their handhelds into the overhead compartment, so everyone would quit staring at her?

Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she mentally shook herself. What good was it to be short tempered, bitchy? Sure, crowds made her uncomfortable. Too many people pressing in, too many staring, guessing at what she did for a living. Was murderer written on her face, her clothes? She hated feeling like this. Add in her unexpected meeting with Theo, and she was certain she would go crazy.

When she was about to scream in frustration, the last person walked through. Whoever had the ticket for the seat next to hers hadn't arrived yet. Maybe she'd be lucky, and the seat would remain open. She rarely slept well the night before a hit, and it would be wonderful to stretch out.

The attendant pulled on the door and stopped when someone shouted from the walkway.

Olivia dug her nails into the armrests. Shouting always grated across her nerves. She always expected the worse. Had she screwed up and the local yokels or the big boys were after her? When she heard laughing, she realized whatever happened didn't involve the law. People rarely laughed when the authorities showed up.

“Sorry, my flight was late coming in. I almost didn't make it,” a deep voice said.

She looked up. Oh, yes, this was what she needed. The man was a good six-one, possibly two, and the Armani suit showed off his wide shoulders perfectly.

He glanced toward the empty seat the attendant pointed to and then he looked at her. Those mysterious dark eyes punched the breath out of her. Set in an angular face with a small dimple in the chin, his eyes appeared almost amber, glowing with such a life force. His lips etched full but still masculine and begged to be licked. Oh, she liked the look of those lips. His nose was manly, not crooked from fighting but not a picture-perfect narrow one either.

Yeah, she liked the package in front of her. Now if she could remove the wrapping to see what lay underneath. Her body had been humming ever since she'd completed her mission. With those gorgeous eyes and his athletic body, she was more than willing to put him through his paces.

Maybe being stuck on a plane for five hours wouldn't be so awful after all. This stranger she wouldn't mind touching or have him touching her. She reached out and introduced herself.

“Hi, I'm Olivia Roth.”

“Joe Murphy.” He held her hand for a second longer than necessary.

Her grin spread wider. Oh, yeah, this was going to be a whole lotta fun.

By the time the tires bounced and rolled on the tarmac at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, Olivia already had Joe inviting her to dinner that evening. She felt primed and ready to give her new friend a good time. Since taking a stranger home with her was out of the question, she worked her wiles until he told her he was staying at the Marriott Marquis.

Then she remarked, “Isn't that a coincidence? I'm staying there too.” She liked how his eyes glimmered when she said that. To him, she was a lone woman on a business trip, easy pickings for a one-night fling.