CIRCLE OF DESIRE Excerpt
Olivia 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 to 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.
CIRCLE OF DANGER Excerpt
Arthur Ryker sprang out of bed and immediately stood at attention, feet apart, his scarred hands in the "ready" position at waist level. One hand cupped by the other, restrained but prepared to kill. He shook his head and sighed. Just once he wanted to leave his bed like a regular person and not like a trained monkey."A bad dream?" a deep voice asked from the bedroom entrance. With one pierced black eyebrow lifted, Jack Drago leaned against the doorjamb.
Ignoring the question, Ryker walked naked into the bathroom. When he returned to grab some clothes out of the closet, Jack hadn't moved but his gaze had most likely inspected every inch of the room. There wasn't much to see. A king-sized bed sat in a corner while a mirror-less dresser was centered against one wall--no pictures or the usual bric-a-brac to give away the occupant's personality. Then again, maybe it did. Rather stark for a man who owned enough properties and businesses to keep his organization in the best covert weapons money could buy. He didn't care what Jack thought about his bedroom. Except for a few hours of sleep and a shower and shave, Ryker rarely spent time in the room.
"What do you want?" he asked, glaring at his second-in-command. With cold blue eyes, Jack studied him, and then his gaze shifted away.
Ryker grunted. Not many people could deal with looking at the thick scars down the side of his body, but it was his blind eye that bothered most. White from the scar tissue damaged in a fire so many years ago, he normally hid it beneath a patch. But he'd be damned before he slept with one on. So if Jack decided to make a habit of waking him in the morning, he could fucking well get use to the sight. Considering the man had four visible piercings--and who knew how many hidden--along with tattoos covering one arm, he shouldn't have a problem with his scars. The man understood pain.
With sure, quick movements, he thrust his legs into jeans and yanked on a black T-shirt. After tugging on his boots, he strapped a small pistol at his ankle. With his patch in place, using his fingers he combed hair over the strap securing its position. Hell, he needed a haircut again. Maybe he'd shave his head like Jack. A simple enough solution. If only the rest of his problems could be so easily solved.
"She's in trouble," Jack said in an even tone as if his voice could defuse a bad situation.
Ryker's stomach and chest tightened as if he'd been hit. He knew who Jack referred to without adding a name. She happened to be part of why his life was so complicated.
"Did you hear me?" Jack straightened his stance.
"Yeah." Desire to break someone's neck raced through his body.
"Where is she? What happened?"
With a sharp snap, he inserted a snub-nose into the shoulder holster hanging at his side and jerked on his leather jacket. He gritted his teeth for a few seconds to regain his composure. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and exhaled.
"Last time Bryan heard from her, she'd entered the target's house in Chattanooga and was downloading information off a laptop. He lost communication with her." Jack quickly stepped out of the way for Ryker to move into the dark hallway. "They believe she's still in the house. If the Wizard sticks to his MO, we'll have about three hours before he takes heraway or kills her."
Ryker wasted no time in reaching a massive room with mirrors from ceiling to floor. When the mansion was built in the eighteen hundreds, the room was used as a ballroom. It was empty now, except for a Steinway covered with a white sheet, and the high-sheen hardwood floor sounded hollow as he tramped across it. He used the room for one purpose only-to reach the stairwell hidden behind one of the mirrors.
"Took you long enough to spit it out." Ryker glanced at his second-in-command.
Jack remained quiet, staring straight ahead. Ryker didn't really expect an excuse. The man knew how he felt about that. No excuse for failure, especially when it came to protecting Marie.
Four months earlier, Ryker had moved The Circle compound from the suburbs of Atlanta to an area near the Smoky Mountains. The mansion was situated in the middle of almost ten thousand acres, which included a large mountain filled with a network of tunnels and bunkers perfect to house the facility he needed. Last year, the final phase of the project was completed and now they were training new recruits in the underground Sector. The nearly fifteen square miles provided the privacy he needed. In a world filled with evil people, his covert organization of assassins came in handy.
Their footsteps echoed in the long, well-lit tunnel. A semi could pass through the passageway without scraping the side mirrors or the tips of muffler stacks.
"Who was her backup?" Ryker asked.
When a few seconds passed without an answer, Ryker stopped and faced Jack.
"They're handling it."
Ryker continued to stare.
His second-in-command sighed. "She went in without a backup."
CIRCLE OF DECEPTION Excerpt
The naked man swayed back and forth, his ankles bound by duct tape and rope to a massive hook suspended from the ceiling. A bare light bulb at the end of a long wire swung in the opposite direction, casting drunken shadows across every inch of his sweat-coated skin.Abby Rodriguez's gaze followed the movement of Rex Drago's body as if watching a tennis match in slow motion.
"Enjoying the view?" His bored and resigned tone barely hid his sarcasm. Even upside down, his eyes taunted her.
"Yeah. Actually, I am." She sat cross-legged a few feet away on the warehouse floor, her favorite Sig in one hand resting on her knee. "You've been working on your abs. Got them looking good. Almost an eight pack. Maybe you could get a job modeling for romance novels." With his big arms tied behind his back, she admired how the muscles expanded each time he struggled with the tape. A sparse swirl of hair rested between his pecs and trailed to a thin line across his abs toward his groin.
"Funny. Real funny." He cleared his throat. "Get me down."
"Having a problem with your sinuses? I guess hanging like that," she waved in his direction, "bottom up, could cause a problem. Kind of chilly in here too."
"Where's Jack and Nic?" His coal black hair cut high and tight, almost brushed the floor with each pass. She missed his long hair but the military style gave him a more deadly look. Heaven and Hell knew he already intimidated enough people with his six foot five height.
"Nic is monitoring the silent alarm, making sure it's off and no back up wired in. Jack's somewhere nearby, probably taking out the guard we spotted in the back that Savalas left behind."
Tilting her head, she looked a little harder at the tattoos running across his biceps on each arm. She never remembered seeing them on him before. Motivated less from curiosity than her attempt to avoid staring at what dangled from his groin. Oh, yeah, that appendage had always been worth admiring, but the man already had an ego the size of . . . well, of his cock, and he needed no one stroking-for goodness sakes, her mind refused to stay on the problem at hand. Hand? Her gaze darted to his gorgeous penis and then away.
She sighed. Every time she worked with Rex, her libido revved up at the most inappropriate times. The man oozed sex appeal. With cheekbones to die for and eyes of a clear gray ringed by darker gray, his looks were saved from being too perfect by the scar that ran across his nose and near the corner of his lip to a point on his left cheek. Then again, the scar only added to his aura of danger.
He growled. "Are you planning on cutting me down anytime soon?"
She grinned big, knowing how much he hated depending on anyone's help. "Well-"
"Abby, dammit! Quit playing around." His body began swinging harder as he fought the ties.
"Is that any way to talk to a friend?"
"Some freaking friend," he muttered.
"What did you say?" She looked a little harder at one of the tattoos. Tiny writing around a delicate Valentine heart appeared to move as he flexed his bicep. Was it for a current girlfriend? Weird, he'd never been into visual displays of love. Even when he asked her to marry him years ago, it had been during a private moment and more of a statement than a proposal. Things changed. People changed.
Gunfire echoed through the large warehouse. What trouble had Jack stumbled across? Time for her to quit teasing the big baby swinging frantically in front of her and let him go.
"I said if I ever get down from here, I'll spank that sweet ass of yours red."
"Ha! That's no way to talk to the person who's saving you." She almost flinched when his glare turned to ice. Those beautiful eyes use to be filled with love when he looked at her, but no longer. Years ago, she'd made sure of that.
The jingle of a gun-strap caught her attention. In a smooth move, she twisted, aiming her gun at the person behind her.
"What the fuck!" Jack Drago, Rex's brother, jumped out of her Sig's sight, clutching a M4 rifle across his torso. "Quit being a pain in the ass and cut him down. Savalas has more men coming and we don't have time for you two to reminisce." He glanced over his shoulder, checking the perimeter.
"I didn't need help, especially hers." Rex continued to glower at Abby.
She wanted to laugh, but at the same time, the thought of Rex being killed scared her more than she wanted to admit. No way would she ever let him know that. She'd broken his heart once and he'd done the same to hers. She planned to never let it happen again.
