CHAPTER ONE
Spinning on her three inch spiked heel, Elle Gray lifted
her leg and kicked her perp solidly in the gut.
The stocky, overly tattooed man, who looked more like a
thug than the mastermind in one of the biggest acts of
technological piracy to hit the east coast in a decade,
flew backward. Elle dropped into a fighting stance as
Harley hit the wall with a thud, but he just kept sliding
until he was nothing but an unconscious heap of cheap
leather and ratty blue jeans.
Man, you'd think with all the money he had made on his
nefarious dealings, the man could afford a few nice
additions to his wardrobe.
And hadn't that been easier than she'd thought it would be?
Apparently, dressing like a biker didn't mean a man had the
fighting skills to last fifteen minutes in a seedy bar much
less in a physical confrontation against her.
With a cynical twist of her lips, she dusted her hands off,
and then smoothed down the fabric of her short black Vera
Wang. The perfect designer for a woman in Elle's
profession. If only Madame Wang knew. Elle had been happy
to discover that several items in the sexy line had been
designed in a way to give a girl maximum movement. In her
opinion, being a federal agent didn't mean she had to run
around looking like a female version of the men in black.
Besides, she'd learned early that a heightened fashion
sense coupled with the looks she'd gotten from her mother
encouraged others to underestimate both her intelligence
and her lethalness. Just as Harley had done.
Looking at the ungainly mound the insensate man made,
satisfaction coursed through her. Sometimes, it was nice to
be underestimated.
Flipping open her phone, she called in the clean-up crew.
If she hurried on the paperwork, she'd have a full week to
relax before starting her new assignment in California.
As she shut the phone, her gaze snagged on the hand holding
the cellโmore specifically on the middle finger of that
hand. Amusement turned to irritation and she glared at
Harley.
As if he could feel her ire, he groaned and tried to move.
Examining the damage with annoyance, she ignored him. She'd
broken a nail. Well, fudge. She'd just gotten a manicure
too. This case had been one irritation after another, but
this really irked her. It belied the simplicity of the
collar.
She hadn't even broken a sweat taking the guy down, but she
had chipped her nail and that was almost as bad as getting
a substandard haircut. Elle might be a federal agent with a
bad attitude and more than one black beltโnot of the
accessory variety, but she had her little vanities like
anyone else.
Worse, the broken nail meant she had misjudged a hit. And
that really pissed her off. It wreaked havoc with her
perfectionist tendencies, making her question if she was
off her game.
Harley chose that moment to try to crawl away. She growled.
He froze and then looked up at her with eyes still
unfocused from his blackout.
"Going somewhere?" she asked.
He told her to do something anatomically impossible, if
slightly intriguing. But she wasn't in the mood to be
intrigued. Or pushed.
Without another word, she stalked over to him, crouched
down and flipped him on his stomach with one smooth move.
To the accompaniment of another not even remotely sexy male
groan, she brought his wrists together and secured them
with a zip-tie.
"Bitch," he said with venom.
She frowned, considered and then shook her head. "I've
always considered myself more of a cat person."
He turned his head and spat at her. Spat. At. Her.
Disgusting.
And he'd barely missed the perfectly shined black patent
leather boots that added such lovely height to her five
feet, ten inches. She reined in the urge to smack his head
into the floor. She? Was not an animal. And he was a lucky
SOB, no doubt about it.
But at this rate? She was going to be in a bad mood until
next month, which was really going to mess up that week of
relaxation she had planned.
Maybe she should go ahead and spend it with her family.
**********
Dr. Beau Ruston looked down at the pictures in the dossier
open on his mentor's desk. "She looks like a Russian
supermodel."
Man, did she. Attractive was too tame a word for the beauty
with chin length straight black hair and eyes such a clear
grey they could be silver in the photos. Stunning might
work. Captivating. Sexy as hell.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so caught by a
woman's appearance. But full lips set in a perfectly shaped
face looked both kissable and ideal for giving a man's cock
the ultimate pleasure. His own was hardening at the mental
image. And wouldn't his granny have had his guts for
garters for thinking like that?
Thoughts of how his deceased grandmother would have reacted
helped to dispel his growing arousal, but nothing would
diminish his sense of awe at Elle's appeal. Almond shaped
grey eyes looked flat and deadly in one picture and full of
mischief in another. He wanted to know what they would look
like in the heat of passion.
Goodnight! Did he have a one-track mind, or what? He'd been
accused a time or two, but not about sexโabout being able
to think of nothing but his projects. He'd had two serious
relationships in his life and a handful of girlfriends.
Every single one of them had complained about how he got
caught up in his work, even the ones he'd dated from the
company.
He'd never fantasized the kinds of things rolling through
his mind right now about any of them during work hours. Yet
this woman had him by the balls and wasn't letting go and
these were mere pictures.
How the hell would he handle her in person? Maybe she would
disappoint his libido and be no more exciting than one of
his female lab techs. He had this really bad suspicion it
would be the full-damn opposite though.
"Ukrainian."
"Uh...what?"
"She's not Russian," his mentor and boss Frank Ingram
said. "She's Ukranian. Or rather her family hails from
there. She was born a U.S. Citizen."
"Whatever. She looks way too beautiful to be a secret agent
under cover as a security consultant." On top of her
classic beauty, she was tall and willowy, with an innate
sensuality that impacted his desire even through pictures
not intended for that purpose.
"And you look like a pro football player, but you are one
of the finest minds of this century."
"I was a football player. The two are not mutually
exclusive."
"Nor are beauty and deadliness. As history has shown time
and time again."
Deadly was right. The dossier said Elle Gray was not only
trained in mortal hand-to-hand combat, but that she was
also a weapons specialist and could throw a knife with
centimetric accuracy at an impressive distance. On top of
that, she had a difficult university degree.
"She's not all brawn, she's got brains too," Beau mused.
And that made her all the more dangerous as far as he was
concerned.
"Yes," the older man said with obvious approval. "A degree
in chemical engineering is no small feat for the most
dedicated student."
"Which will make it that much easier for her to accurately
identify our projects." Was he the only one who saw a
problem with that?
"No doubt that is why she was assigned to this particular
endeavor."
"So, why are we letting her come?"
"Mr. Smith believes it is the best course of action," Frank
answered as if that was all that needed saying.
"Obviously, but why?" Was it a case of keeping their
friends close and enemies even closer?
"Our security was compromised."
"I'm aware of that." After all, it had been on his project.
"Mr. Smith believes we need to take measures to be certain
that does not happen again."
"By bringing a spook in to spy on the company?" Beau was
really starting to feel like he was operating on a whole
different plain from his boss and the mysterious man who
had started and continued to fund Environmental
Technologies Research and Design.
"Cover for her real job as a TGP agent, or not, Ms. Gray is
in the top of her field."
"Security was compromised by a dirty guard. How can she
prevent that from happening again?" It was a question that
haunted Beau ever since plans for the antigravity project
had made it into the wrong hands.
"I have no idea. Security is not my area of expertise.
However, Mr. Smith believes she will be able to do that and
more. Whatever measures she deems appropriate will no doubt
be an improvement on what we have now."
Beau's gaze flicked to the pictures spread out on the desk
again. Was she really that good? "We had our security set
up by one of the best companies in California," he felt
compelled to point out, even if it made him sound a tad
defensive.
"Ms. Gray is considered the top of her field both
nationally and internationally. We are lucky to get her."
"She's a federal agent."
"She is also the best of the best at security design and
consultation."
Something about what Frank said before niggled at Beau
until he asked, "Her agency has international jurisdiction?"
Frank steepled his fingers in a familiar gesture. "Let's
just say the CIA isn't the only federal agency with their
fingers in extra-national pies."
Beau shook his head. "Amazing."
He wasn't surprised that the government had black ops that
the average, or even not so average citizen didn't know
about. What stunned Beau was how calmly Frank and Mr. Smith
apparently accepted not only their existence but their
interference at ETRD.
"Mr. Smith is quite pleased we've managed to procure Ms.
Gray's services."
"So, you have said, but I find that hard to believe. She's
coming in to spy on us on behalf of the government." Didn't
that bother Mr. Smith and/or Frank even a little?
"It's not as if she works for the FBI or the military,"
Frank said with a small shudder. "She's under the aegis of
The Goddard Project. Truthfully, Mr. Smith was surprised it
took them this long to show a material interest in what
we're doing here at ETRD."
"The Goddard Project?" What the heck was that? "I've never
heard of them."
"Very few have. I'm not convinced that even every president
has known of their existence."
"But Mr. Smith does?"
"He knows a great deal the rest of the world is ignorant
of."
"How?"
Frank shrugged. "I make it a practice not to ask that
particular question and suggest you do the same."
Beau couldn't help his curiosity about the enigmatic
benefactor who had started ETRD. Frank was the only
employee of ETRD who ever met with the man in person.
Though Beau had spoken to Mr. Smith on the phone on
occasion, even that kind of interaction was kept at a
minimum.
"But you do know what The Goddard Project is?"
"It's a black ops agency with a dual directive of
protecting technology from falling into the wrong hands and
making sure our own government does not overlook
potentially beneficial scientific breakthroughs as well. It
was started after Robert Goddard's rocketry technology was
stolen by the Germans during WWII. Technology our own
government had not only ignored, but had dismissed as
unimportant. It wasn't just the egg on our faces when we
interrogated a German prisoner of war only to discover that
the scientific discovery had been made initially on our own
soil, but the very real threat of them utilizing it against
us that convinced the powers that be at the time that we
needed to take measures to make sure that kind of thing
never happened again."
"As much as I may dislike it, I can understand that. But I
still don't get why you and Mr. Smith see being spied on by
this highly secret organization as an improvement over
falling under the scrutiny of any other federal agency."
Frank straightened the papers and photos into a neat pile
and closed the file. Beau had to stifle the urge to protest
his loss of the sight of the supermodel gorgeous agent.
Something must have shown on his face because Frank looked
at him strangely.
"You were saying?" Beau prompted.
"TGP only steps in if it's absolutely necessary. According
to Mr. Smith, they've done a lot for research and
technological development over the decades since the war."
"If he's so enamored of them, why not just make a report of
our projects and turn it in to TGP?" Then they wouldn't
have to send a woman whose very picture knocked his libido
right on its ass.
"If we did that, we wouldn't be getting the services of
Elle Gray." Frank gave a faint smile. "And it's the
principle of the thing. If they want information, they can
work for it. We're not a government funded facility and on
our side or not, we aren't giving tacit approval to their
oversight by providing a work manifesto."
Beau's lips twisted with distaste. "Politics."
"Unfortunately, they are a part of life."
"It's a good thing we've got you to handle them around here
then. Left up to me, we'd probably end up in World War III."
Frank chuckled. "It wouldn't be quite that bad, I'm sure."
"Don't bet on it."
The older man shook his head, but said nothing.
"So, what makes me so special that I get to know the true
nature of Ms. Gray's work and the other egg-heads around
here don't?" Beau asked.
Frank frowned, looking troubled. "We can't be sure the
dirty guard was working alone."
Beau had been worried about that very thing. When he should
have been sleeping. "The coincidental departure of Bigsley
less than twenty-four hours after you announced a security
consultant was being brought in implies he wasn't," he
said, voicing a worry that had been growing.
"Perhaps." Frank put the file away in the safe behind his
desk and then locked it. "Gil Bigsley's disappearance is
suspect, of course, but was it voluntary? And was it
related to the leak on your project, or something else?"
"Presumably, this TGP agent will figure that out."
"I believe that is Mr. Smith's hope, yes."
"You still haven't explained why you told me the truth,
only why you haven't told anyone else."
Frank's smile was warm, reflecting his role as both friend
and mentor in Beau's life. "You are not under suspicion."
"But the others are?"
Frank didn't answer, but he didn't need to.
"Why aren't I?"
"I could say because you are as close to me as a son."
"Would that be the truth?"
"For me, yes."
"But it wouldn't be enough for Mr. Smith."
"No. However, the fact that if you had been conspiring with
Eddie, he would not have set his partners north up to sell
plans that don't work is quite compelling."
"My honor saved by the incompetence of the criminal mind."
"Your honor was never in question to me."
"I appreciate that, Frank."
"You're a good man, Beau, and Mr. Smith knows that."
"I would have said the same for my co-workers."
"So would have I...before. Now, we can't afford not to be
cautious. Some of our projects are far too close to
positive resolution for us to risk them falling into greedy
hands."
"It's why we work here."
"That's definitely true for you...and hopefully the others
as well, but we have no guarantees."
"Right. So, I'm supposed to keep an eye on Elle Gray?"
"Nothing too cloak-and-dagger, but yes."
"You do realize this is all just a little more James Bond
than I ever thought I'd get?"
"We play the cards we are dealt."
Beau relaxed back into the plush leather chair facing his
mentor's desk. "Why do I get the feeling that Mr. Smith is
dealing from the bottom of the deck?"
"Do you?"
"On occasion. Speaking of cloak-and-dagger, the man keeps
himself well hidden."
"And that worries you?"
"Maybe."
"Believe me when I say that if Mr. Smith is dealing from
the bottom of the deck, he is only doing it for our best
interests."
"Or so he says."
"He doesn't have to say it. I know it. And while you may
not know Mr. Smith, you do know me. Do you trust me, Beau?"
Tension filled Beau. Trust wasn't something he easily
extended to others. He'd learned that just because
circumstances dictated you should be able to trust someone
did not mean that you could. In fact, it was the people
closest to you most likely to betray you. They were the
ones in a position to get away with it.
Yet Frank Ingram had proven himself worthy of both Beau's
respect and trust many times. The older man accepted Beau
for who he was in a way his own family and other important
people in his life had refused to do. Frank had never let
Beau down in the close to a decade that he had known the
other man. Not once. Not in any way.
There could only be one answer to his mentor's
question. "Yes."
"Thank you."
Beau shrugged, having no desire to even flirt with the
edges of maudlin emotion. Now, or ever.
**********
Elle opened the door of her Lamborghini Spider and swung
her long legs out. She could feel someone watching her,
which was nothing new and certainly not unexpected
considering her choice in transportation. But something
felt different. Whoever was watching her was doing so with
a regard so intense, it was palpable.
Interesting.
She paused, knowing the metallic burgundy paintjob on the
sports car did a fantastic job of framing her. That wasn't
why she'd taken her week off between assignments driving
her baby across country rather than flying and renting a
car for her assignment, but it didn't hurt.
Standing in one fluid movement, she straightened the jacket
of her Akri suit and let her gaze meet that of a man
watching her. He wasn't the only one doing so, but she
sensed the dark haired Adonis was the source of
concentrated scrutiny she had felt. Unmoving and apparently
unconcerned with being caught staring, he stood in front of
the huge shiny metal and glass building that housed
Ecological Technologies Research and Design. A backpack
gripped in one hand and a leather jacket dangling over his
shoulder off the finger of another, he looked more like a
bad boy with attitude than second-in-command at one of the
country's top research companies.
According to her files, the tall, muscular scientist was
Frank Ingram's right hand man as well as the project
manager on the antigravity experiment that had been
compromised, leading to TGP's interest in ETRD. Any other
professional information regarding his role at ETRD was
sketchy. TGP only knew what they did about his role on the
antigravity project because his name had been on the
intercepted plans. Frank had offered the information that
Dr. Beau Ruston was his second-in-command when he hired
Elle for the security consultation.
Other than that, she knew that the young PhD had begun
working for the company as an intern while pursuing his
doctorate. He'd been hired on in a full time capacity even
before he'd successfully defended his doctoral thesis.
Other than the antigravity experiment and the projects that
had gone public, TGP had no information regarding what the
man did at the ETRD.
The company was better at keeping secrets than the
Pentagon. Much better. Hence the need for an agent on sight
to determine the lay of the land.
She wasn't here to investigate Beau Ruston per se, but he
was certainly someone she was interested in finding out
more about.
She turned and leaned back into the car to grab her
briefcase, giving the staring man a view of her toned
backside in the tailored slacks. Being a good agent meant
using all assets at her disposal to do her job. If that
included flustering a man by exposing a little thigh, then
she did it. If it meant bending over to offer a glimpse of
a body she used as a tool for her job, she did it.
And her instincts told her that she wanted this particular
man as off-kilter as she could get him.
She locked the car and headed toward him, noticing that he
had not moved from his spot in front of the building. So,
he knew who she was too and he was waiting for her.
As personal greeters went, she'd take him.
His expression neutral, he put his hand out when she was
within reaching distance. "Ms. Gray? I'm Beau Ruston."
Her hand was engulfed in the warmth and strength of his.
For a split second she saw something in his Hershey brown
eyes and tension filled square jaw that found a
corresponding response right in her core.
Desire. Hot. Urgent. Primal.
And wholly unexpected.
Oh, she was used to being admired. Even wanted. But that
flash of sexual heat went beyond the surface physical
reaction of a man and a woman meeting for the first time.
And the fact that it mirrored her own response was as close
to frightening as facing down the wrong end of her own
favorite Ruger P95 semi-automatic.
He blinked and just like that, the brief blaze of desire
was banked. She didn't doubt it had been there, anymore
than she could deny the involuntary tightening of her inner
thigh muscles or the way her nipples were still peaked
behind her designer suit jacket.
Grateful for the thickness and opacity of the fabric, she
pulled her hand from his. "It's a pleasure to meet you Dr.
Ruston."
"Beau, please." The subtle twang in his voice reminded her
of his origins.
His file said he'd gone to USC on a football scholarship
and made his home here afterward, rather than return to his
native Texas. Right then, she felt an absurd gratitude that
he had done so.
She dipped her head in acknowledgement of his
request. "Elle."
"Good. We don't stand on ceremony much around here."
Standing this close, it was easy to believe this man had
once played college football and that he'd had a reputation
for breaking hearts...until he'd gotten engaged. His file
said he'd been faithful to his fiancรฉe right up until the
woman dumped him his senior year.
She'd gone on to marry one of his teammates who had gone
into the NFL. A favorite for the draft himself, Beau had
opted to continue his education and had gotten a doctorate
in quantum physics. He'd chosen brain over brawn and while
he might be highly compensated as a lead scientist at ETRD,
it was nothing compared to what he could have made catching
footballs in the NFL.
His choices fascinated Elle. She'd spent a good portion of
her week off going over his file. The information on his
life before and outside his job was not nearly as sketchy
as that of his hours spent at ETRD.
Elle had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "That's
good to know."
He'd moved closer and she hadn't even noticed. This was so
not good. A giant like him shouldn't be able to move an
inch without her taking note, much less right into her
personal space.
She'd known he was tall. The file said six feet, six
inches, but standing so close made him seem even taller.
Bigger. Okay, so maybe that was due to the numerous well-
developed muscles filling out his tight blue t-shirt and
snug fitting jeans. Not that six and a half feet was
average height by any stretch, but her brothers were all
within one to three inches of it. She was only two inches
shy of six feet herself.
She'd never felt so flippin' small next to a man. She
didn't like it. He was messing with her equilibrium in ways
no one else ever did and they hadn't even said more than
twenty words to each other.
She distinctly remembered The Old Man telling her that this
assignment was going to be a cake walk. And she'd agreed.
After seeing Beau Ruston's file. More the fool her.
She took a hasty step back.
A single dark brow rose in question, but Beau didn't
comment. "Come with me and I'll introduce you to the boss."
Did his drawl have to be so damn low and sexy? Wasn't it
enough that in person, he was unstable C-4 where her
feminine desires were concerned? Did his voice have to be
more effective than a state of the art weaponry display at
gaining her attention? And holding it. Sheesh.
Cake walk.
Right.
So not.
The Old Man was going to owe her big time for this
assignment.
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