Elite Metal-ARE-epub (44 page)

“Hey, sunshine,” he greeted. “Can you come to my office for a second?”

She sent him a knowing smile. “If this is for one of your hot and heavy coffee breaks, no. I’m not having sex with you in your office.”

“I’ll get you to change your mind one of these days, woman, but this is for something more important. It’ll just be a moment.”

She must have sensed something from his tone of voice, because she stilled for moment. “Sure. Give me a second to close this down.”

The wait for her to secure the workstation had him bouncing on the balls of his feet. When she was ready, he led her down to his office and closed the door behind them.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt.

“This was in Chesterfield’s belongings.” He handed her the file.

Her hands shook as she accepted his offering. Her brow crinkled with worry as she pulled back the cover. On top of the sheaf of papers laid a 3x5 color photo of a little girl with blonde pigtails and a wide, toothy grin.

Beth gasped, and her knees buckled. He was barely able to slide a chair under her butt before she sank to the floor.

“I don’t believe it.” She sucked in a harsh breath, fighting tears that refused to remain in check. “I never thought I’d see her.”

“What’s her name?” he whispered.

She ran her finger over the top sheet of paper. “Charlotte. Her name is Charlotte.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “She’s beautiful, babe. Looks just like you.”

“She looks happy,” she choked out through her tears.

“Where is she?”

Beth flipped through the paperwork of school records, typed updates, and more photos. “Carmel, California. These must be her…her parents.”

A few of the photos included a couple who appeared to be in their late thirties and fairly well off, if their clothes and the exterior of their home were any indication. In all of the photos the subjects appeared to be unaware they were being photographed, which made Ant figure the photographer had to have been there on surveillance.

“We can track them down, no problem, and have her home by tomorrow,” he said, already planning on little Charlotte’s recovery.

“No.”

“No?”

Beth shook her head. “We can’t kidnap her. She doesn’t know me. For all she knows, these are her parents. I can’t take that stability away from her.”

“But you’re her mother.”

“Exactly.” She swiped at her cheek with the palm of her hand. “And as her mother, I will always do what’s best for her. Taking her away from the only family she knows isn’t what’s best for her.”

“You’re a lot less selfish than I am, sunshine. I want to make you change your mind so badly right now, but I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed and gifted him with a smile. “You’re gonna check up on her anyway, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Just to make sure she’s safe. But I’ll keep my distance.”

She stood and hugged him tight. “That’s why I love you. I know I can always count on you.”

“Damn straight. I’ll be there for you, your daughter, and our future daughters, although I think a son may be easier for me to relate to.”

She pulled back and looked at him in surprise. “Future daughters?”

“Of course. Who else did you think was going to be the father of your children?”

“I wasn’t thinking of anything beyond tomorrow. Then tomorrow I was going to focus on the next tomorrow. Children are long term.”

“I like the sound of that.” A sudden thought struck him cold in the heart. “Unless you don’t want long term with me.”

“Oh, Scott.” He loved the way her eyes turned liquid with love when she sighed his name. “I want all of you I can have.”

“And I want all of you. And babies. I am one of six, you know. Us Maguires have big families.”

“We’ll table that discussion until all of this,” she gestured at the entire room, “has settled down.”

“Deal.” He trailed a line of kisses from her cheek down her neck. “But I’m gonna need some practice on making those babies. Lots of practice.”

She lowered her lashes and a pink flush bathed her cheeks. “Will this practice include a length of rope and the flat of your hand?”

The shy question sent a rush of heat through his veins that made him instantly hard and ready to take her to the floor of his office. His voice lowered an octave and was raspy as he said, “I can arrange that.”

“Good.” She stepped away and slowly backed out of the room with a delighted smile on her lips. “I should get back to work. Then it’s a date?”

“Absolutely, sunshine. Looking forward to it,” he said as the palm of his right hand began to tingle with anticipation.

Epilogue

“London,” Chrome muttered once Sterling had left them alone in the quiet of the war room.

“Yep.” Steele stared at the bent head of his partner.

“Mother. Fucking. London.”

“Told you. You owe me fifty bucks.”

“Fuck.” Chrome banged his fist on the tabletop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The litany continued as Steel raised his voice. “It’s time.”

Chrome’s eyes widened as if Steele had just stood and whipped out his cock. “No. No fucking way.”

“I’m not happy about it either. But you know it has to be done.”

“Not going to happen.” Chrome dropped his head and rapped his forehead against the table twice.

Steele leaned back in his chair and waited with his tongue trapped between his teeth. He knew that eventually Chrome would see he was right without the constant nagging. It was just waiting out the time the man needed to bitch and moan like a wuss until his objections were out of his system and he was ready to do what was right.

A few more brain slaps later, Chrome raised his head and looked at him with determination in his eyes. “We’re not calling the little shit in.”

Steele leaned back with a smile. “Wanna bet?”

Anna Alexander

Anna Alexander's literary world changed at age thirteen when a friend gave her a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss's "A Rose in Winter." With her mind thoroughly blown, she decided that one day she too would be a romance writer. With Hugh Jackman's abs and Christopher Reeve's blue eyes as inspiration, she loves spinning tales about superheroes finding love.

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By Heather Long

Pure Copper

By Heather Long

Text Copyright Heather Long 2015

All Rights Reserved

Discover more titles by Heather Long at
http://www.heatherlong.net/

Pure Copper

By Heather Long

Copper will do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if it means seducing and betraying the one man who really sees her.

Former Marine special forces, Sachi “Copper” James is a chameleon. She thrives on being someone else. Her mission? Identify the rat who sold her team bad intel. Gabriel Danvers, ex-CIA analyst, is a master of disseminating the details. He wants to enjoy a normal life, retired from the game. His mission? Teach classes.

When Gabriel becomes the target of Copper’s investigation, he re-enters a world of danger and deception--all to claim the passion of the one woman who’s haunted him for years.

Prologue

Two years ago

Interspersing flipping through the business week magazine with the occasional glance at his phone, Gabriel Danvers maintained the appearance of bored executive. Snapping photos of the people in the waiting room was as simple as frowning at a make-believe email and firing off a response. Smartphones made his job far too simple.

The elevator dinged in the hallway. From his position, he had an excellent vantage of the comings and goings at the main reception desk. Turning a page, he was treated to a set of long, gorgeous legs striding up the hallway. The black heels didn’t quite do the muscles on her legs justice, but they certainly made them stand out in stark relief.

Lifting his phone as though it just buzzed to tell him he had a message, he let his gaze follow the black stocking clad legs—he caught the barest peek of lace topping the stocking in the split of her skirt—to the barely-there dress hugging her every curve. The sheath left little to the imagination, and the crisscross jacket at the top gave the impression of arms wrapped around her to cup her breasts.

Drooling on the job isn’t acceptable.
His libido utterly ignored the reprimand. The face above the breasts, though, was a work of art. Perfectly pale pink lips, high cheekbones, a sweet chin and a hint of a dimple at the corner of her mouth. When his gaze locked with her hazel eyes, she winked as though telling him she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Fuck. Me.
She was right. Dropping his attention to his phone, he angled it to carefully snap a photo, but she’d already turned away from him and leaned against the receptionist’s desk. The faint lift of her leg gave him another lacy glimpse of her black stockings. Two other men who waited in the same room for their appointments made no pretense of not staring at her.

When the receptionist ushered her back immediately, a security guard met her at the door to escort her up. His attention landed on her breasts, then her ass as she sashayed past him. Gabriel wanted to swear. Whoever she was, no way she’d come to talk business—unless it was of the pleasurable kind.

If ever a woman cried out sex walking, it was her. Checking his watch, he glanced at his magazine. Already ten minutes late for the appointment, Jackson Jennings kept him cooling his heels. The corporate financial officer for Transcom International sent in a tip to the CIA regarding some suspect transactions with Russian oil interests. Since he’d worked the Russia house for years and the tip involved an old, open case file of his, they’d sent Gabriel to question the man.

An hour later, neither Jennings nor the sexpot had made an appearance. Tossing the magazine aside, Gabriel headed for the receptionist and tapped her desk. Everyone else who’d been in the waiting room to see someone within Transcom had gone back. Everyone except Gabriel.

“Mr. Danvers, I’m sorry. Mr. Jennings isn’t picking up. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll go check on him for you?”

He nodded, choosing to remain at her desk where he faced the door heading into the corporate offices. Maybe Miss Fuck Me Sideways in the Stockings would reappear. Odd, the body and her movement stood out, but not her gorgeous face. He needed to get a photo and her number. Though he was alone, he made no overt attempt to get into the receptionist’s computer. Instead, he used an app on his phone to start a clone of her hard drive then tapped the icon to upload via satellite—designed for short packet bursts the application would keep sending every time it had a connection until all the data had been sent. He could rip through the info later.

A woman’s blood-curdling shriek echoed from the hallway. Reacting, Gabriel jerked the door open and raced down the corridor before completing the thought. Other suits stuck their heads out of their doors while two security guards raced in from an adjoining hall. The woman’s screams escalated in volume and pitch. He and the guards arrived at the office door of one Jackson Jennings at the same time.

The receptionist held her hand over her mouth and had gone violently pale. Jennings was in his office all right—seated in his chair, arms relaxed, with his head turned at an unnatural angle.

The one lead he’d finally found was dead.

Six months later…

Gabriel finished his inspection and typed the last three sentences into his report. His final assignment for the company—really—ended with a full assessment of their intelligence desk located in the consulate desk in Nigeria. Favors to the company didn’t come cheap, and he had a class to teach back in the states. Agent Gabriel Danvers would be one hundred percent retired and Professor Danvers would take his place.

Classes four days a week, with football on Sundays in front of a big screen television and a six-pack of cold beer. He couldn’t wait to be bored. The intelligence desk seemed to be in decent shape, though he had a few recommendations to sharpen their observation capability. The archaic monitoring system in place only offered rotating views of the various entrances and front hall of the consulate. Based on the timing, he could be in and out of the building and still not be caught on tape.

Not a good set up.

Pushing away from the desk, he stood. He grabbed his coffee cup as the camera panned the entrance lobby of the consulate, framing two people entering. A redhead strolled in, dressed in work boots, jeans, a tank top, and an open khaki shirt. She looked like something straight out of an advertisement for a safari magazine. It wasn’t the outfit that captured his attention, but something else… Before he could put his finger on what, however, the monitor switched to another view.