Blind Faith (2 page)

his veins. Veins much too close to the abnormal killing device. So he counted evenly to control his heart,

eyeing the exits from the opulent ballroom, estimating how many security guards stood at watch. At least

seven had been provided by the hotel, while several more, dressed in Armani, chatted with partygoers as if

they belonged.

They didn’t belong amid the rich and powerful any more than Nate did.

The difference was that Nate liked it that way.

Even so, he’d donned a Brioni tuxedo that had earned him more than one come-hither glance since he’d

arrived at the fund-raiser—from women and a couple of men. A fake beard covered his jaw, while brown

contacts masked his eye color. But there was no way to hide his height or the breadth of his chest, so he

used them to his advantage in the sleek suit.

Even with his size, hiding in plain sight was one of his specialties.

His heart rate slowed, and he tuned in to the mundane conversations around him. With his enhanced

hearing, he often had to filter most noise or he’d go insane. But tonight he listened for one woman, opening

up his senses. Heart and respiratory rates had signatures—tempo, rhythm, and something too difficult to

explain—and right now he hunted for one he’d once known well.

She didn’t seem to be in the large ballroom.

A group of lobbyists argued to his left, while two women in glittering sheaths spoke over champagne

glasses to his right. The men argued about the next Super Bowl, and the women disagreed over

international relations with China.

He bit back a grin and maneuvered between tables, once again shoving the bombarding sounds into a

box.

While the ability to hear a penny hit the ground outside the raucous gathering gave him the edge he

needed, now he required a clear head. This might be the most difficult job he’d ever taken, but if he or his

brothers were to survive, he needed to find the one woman he’d never thought he’d seek.

Only to save his brothers from their kill chips would he even attempt to speak with her again. She’d

broken his heart once, and once was enough. He had never believed in second chances—for himself or for

anybody else.

But his one true job in life, the reason he had purpose, was to protect his brothers. So he’d storm hell

once again to do what he needed to do.

“Excuse me.” A petite blonde in sparkling red brushed her breasts against his arm. “Do I know you?”

“No.” He fell back on training and pasted on a charming smile. “Much to my dismay.”

She twittered, and bloodred lips curved in a smile. Even in the four-inch spiked heels, she had to tip

back her head to meet his gaze. She licked her lips. “I’m sure we’ve met.”

He had the oddest urge to back away from her voracious smile. What did she want? His supersenses

allowed him to pay attention to the security patrolling the room while also monitoring her eye movements

so he could discern the truth. As a liar, she wasn’t bad. But they didn’t know each other. “I’m afraid we

haven’t met.”

“Let’s remedy that situation.” She stepped closer, and the scent of strong floral perfume gathered

around them.

From her breathing and the slight dilation of her pupils, he could tell she’d probably imbibed at least

three glasses of champagne. If he’d needed a companion to use as cover, she would’ve been perfect. But

this was a solo mission.

A heartbeat echoed in his head, shoving away all other sounds.
Thump. Thump. Thump
. Familiar and

once dear—he knew that beat. Slowly, he turned toward the doorway to the smaller room.

Audrey.

This was the closest he’d been to her in five years. His focus remained on the stunning woman across

the room. His entire body tensed, and adrenaline flooded his system. He’d been gifted the genetic ability to

control his body responses, and usually he was the best. But at the moment, he might as well be a robot on

the fritz and not a trained, unfeeling assassin.

She’d thinned out in the five years they’d been apart, shedding the last vestiges of her teenage years.

Nicely muscled arms showed health, while faint circles under her eyes hinted that she worked too hard.

He already knew how hard she worked, considering he’d been tailing her for a week. From a distance.

Hoping to get a glimpse of her child. Their child.

Even after seven whole days, one look at her and his body short-circuited. That had to end.

Her dress covered high breasts in a way that was both alluring and modest, while the high heels

accented toned legs. Those legs had felt amazing wrapped around his hips, and sometimes, when dreams

intruded, he could still feel her. Smell her. Taste her.

She smiled at a man gesturing wildly to another man. Nate idly tuned in to the conversation, noting it

centered around tort reform.

“Well.” The blonde in front of him spun on a heel and huffed off.

He’d forgotten all about her. If she had been a threat, she could’ve stabbed him in the gut. He wouldn’t

have seen it coming.

Yet another example of why he needed to stay away from Audrey Madison.

Even so, he slid his champagne glass onto a table and strode toward the smaller ballroom. It was time to

find the truth—whether Audrey liked it or not.

* * *

remaining calm while her heart roared into overdrive. She’d navigated a lonely childhood, surviving with

finely honed instincts. The need to fight or flee lived in her daily moments.

Now was the time to flee.

Elegant and sexy, her black cocktail dress wrapped tightly around her fit form and wouldn’t hinder her

escape. Unfortunately, the three-inch Jimmy Choo heels needed to be kicked off, a necessity made nearly

impossible by the two U.S. senators currently debating tort reform to her left.

She automatically smiled at a pun from her boss, Senator Nash. He’d slicked back his gray hair and

trimmed his mustache, making him look more like a rancher playing dress-up than ever before.

She turned and took a sip of champagne while searching unobtrusively for the threat.

Men in tuxedos and women in stunning dresses scattered throughout the most prestigious hotel

ballroom in Washington, DC. Tension rode high in the party atmosphere due to the hint of power threading

through the air. The attendees of the political fund-raiser either had power and were desperate to hold on to

it, or they were filching at tendrils and grappling to claim more.

Her reason for being there differed. Somewhat.

In fact, she’d give her seven-hundred-dollar shoes away in a nanosecond for the opportunity to curl up

with comfy socks and
Little Women
. Sure, it was a classic, but it was about siblings and a nicer time. She

owned several dog-eared copies.

The idea that people in real life could have families and make homes was as much fiction as the novels

she read. Audrey’s talent lay in subterfuge and not in homemaking, unfortunately. She’d love to have kids

and make the world a fun place for them—from birthday parties to the everyday cutting of crusts off

sandwiches. Carol Brady from the
Brady Bunch
had the best job around, in Audrey’s opinion. Not only did

Carol have a safe life, but she had a family. A real one.

Audrey took another sip of champagne, searching for the source of her unease. Where was the threat?

Her gaze swept past the two imposing soldiers dressed in suits standing by the outside exit, pretending

to chat. They’d been following her for weeks, and they were certainly owned by the commander. He’d been

having her followed, and the only explanation she could come up with was that he’d lost trust in her. If

he’d ever had any.

He’d put her in the political world as an aide to a powerful senator to further the commander’s agenda,

and if he discovered her own agenda, he’d have her killed.

But the two guys watching her proved that the commander wasn’t sure yet—she was still standing.

No, a stronger predator stood near. She
felt
him.

As if drawn by a magnet, her focus landed on a man leaning casually against the doorway leading to the

dance floor. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him until recognition slammed into her,

heating her ears and weakening her knees. It couldn’t be. It
really
couldn’t be.

Her fingers lightened their hold around the champagne flute, and she clutched tight to keep from

dropping the delicate crystal.

How could Nathan be here? Heat flowed through her so quickly her lungs seized. Panic flared into her

veins, and furious tears pricked the backs of her eyes. In a nanosecond, her entire central nervous system

snapped like a live wire.

His gaze held hers captive as he lifted one lip in a mocking grin.

That one minor, sarcastic move dashed any silly dream she’d harbored of his finding her. Rescuing her.

Declaring he still loved her and offering her a chance at a life with him.

At the realization, a very welcomed anger swept away her panic. She lifted her flute and silently toasted

him, taking a deep drink and keeping his gaze, no matter how much the contact stung. Then, with a gentle

smile, she turned to the men and excused herself.

Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, she maneuvered around people, her hips nearly swaying.

After five years of physical therapy, she almost walked without a limp. The high heels were in celebration

of her doctor’s visit two weeks earlier, where the doctor proclaimed her leg was as good as it was going to

get.

Now all she needed was a confirmation that her last surgery three months ago had repaired her

internally and she could finally relax. Concentrating on walking smoothly, she made her way toward the

dance floor and to him.

Even as she kept up a calm façade, her mind raced. He had to get out of there. Didn’t he realize the

commander still hunted him? For years she’d figured she’d be the bait to bring Nathan back, but she hadn’t

thought he was stupid enough to seek her out. Especially in public.

The commander would have no problem causing a scene if it meant reclaiming one of the Gray

brothers.

She reached Nate’s side and almost recoiled from the heat and familiar scent of the man. Male and

spice, something undeniably dangerous—Nathan. All Nathan.

Instead, she held out a hand as if they’d never met. As if he didn’t still occupy every dream she had

after falling into an exhausted sleep. “Hello. I’m Audrey.”

Nathan’s hand engulfed hers in a touch so familiar her heart broke all over again, even while desire

unfurled inside her abdomen. “Jason McGovern. I work for the Neoland Corporation as a lobbyist.”

Ah. Good choice. Several executives from flush technology firms were in attendance at the ball. Audrey

extracted her hand and forced an interested smile as she studied him. He had inserted brown contacts to

mask his unusual gray eyes, but the longer brown hair seemed to be his. She had wondered if he would

grow it out after escaping the military group that had raised him. A shadow lined his jaw, also looking

natural. He’d definitely hardened even more in the five years they’d been apart. “Your disguise doesn’t hide

much,” she whispered.

He lifted a muscled shoulder that revealed the true predator lurking beneath the classic jacket. “I’m done

hiding.”

Those three innocuous words flared her neurons awake in terror. He had to stay underground, away

from the commander and his men. “You can’t beat them.” Nobody could beat them. “Leave now, Nathan.

Please.” She needed him alive, even if he hated her. The world had to keep him in it.

“Now, Audrey, you actually sound like you care.” He claimed her flute and finished the remaining

champagne in two drinks, his lips covering the same spot she’d used. The hard cords of his neck flexed.

Feminine awareness zinged through her body and pebbled her nipples. The man had always been

dangerous, yet an edge lived in him now that was as appealing as it was deadly. That edge tempted her on a

primal level she’d hoped had disappeared when he had. Apparently not.

To mask her unwelcome desire, she moved to go. “Well, enjoy your night.” She expected him to stop

her retreat and wasn’t surprised when his calloused hand wrapped around her bare upper arm, but she

hadn’t anticipated his next words.

“Let’s dance.” He turned her toward the dance floor.

She balked. “No.” She couldn’t dance with him, couldn’t be touched by him.

“Yes.” His hold slid down to the back of her elbow, and he ushered her toward where the orchestra was

playing “I Will Wait for You” by Michel Legrand. The warmth in Nate’s touch flared her nerves to life in an

erotic need she’d worked hard to overcome.

She could either cause a scene or go along with him. Didn’t he understand if she protested, he’d be a

dead man?