Ironclad Cover. Dana Marton

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assignment. “I’ll be sending a representative.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      He hung up the phone and thought for a moment about whom to send. He didn’t like for even his most trusted men to know too much, be involved in too many branches of the business. He kept them isolated from projects other than their own, from each other. He didn’t want any of them to put together the big picture, to get any ideas about whether they might be able to take over from him.

      He leaned back in his chair and ran down his list of top candidates, then settled on one. That should work fine.

      A timid knock sounded on his door that he recognized as Alexandra’s.

      “Come on in, dear.” He pulled himself straight and put a smile on his face.

      “Is this a bad time?” She hesitated in the doorway, young and beautiful, unaware of how the pink T-shirt stretched across her breasts made him feel.

      “You could never come at a bad time.” He got up and went to her. “You look breathtaking as always.”

      She looked down and blushed. “I was wondering if I could go into town today.”

      “Of course, I’ll tell my driver immediately.” He turned toward his desk then stopped, pretending to hesitate. “Unless…”

      “If you don’t think it’s—”

      “No, no. I was just thinking that I had a busy day. I could use a little time away from the office. I’ve been meaning to take you shopping at Marks & Spencer. Of course, you probably don’t feel like spending the afternoon with an old man like me.”

      “You are not old,” she protested instantly.

      “I’m not Ivan Ivanoff, either.” Ivan, a famous Russian piano player about the same age as Tsernyakov, had recently married a model younger than Alexandra, the top news of TV stations around the country.

      “No,” she agreed. “You’re much nicer. Do you ever think about remarrying?”

      He shrugged and tried to look as modest as he could. “Who would have me, anyway?” he said before she could respond. “So shopping, then maybe a movie and dinner?”

      “That would be really great.”

      Yes, it would be. He hadn’t had the time to work on her lately, but tonight he would make sure she began to see him as something else than just a family friend. He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so glad you are here with me.”

      “Me, too.” Her smile was genuine. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

      “Nothing will happen to you, I swear.” Not as long as she pleased him. That’s what he had spared her for when he ordered the murder of her parents—something she knew nothing about.

      He would end the year in style, with a new young lover and more money than he’d made on any one deal in his life before.

      “Why don’t you wait for me upstairs?” He ran a finger down Alexandra’s face. “I have to make a few more calls then I’ll be right there.”

      “Thank you.” She gave him a spontaneous hug and was practically skipping on her way out of the room.

      “Your next appointment is here, sir.” His secretary’s voice came through the intercom.

      He glanced at his calendar. “Last one for today?” he asked to double-check. Sometimes people got scheduled in at the last minute.

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Good.” He would get through it fast. Alexandra was waiting.

      BRANT LAW looked at Anita seated across the table, still not over the shock of how different she looked from when he had last seen her during their briefing at Quantico. She’d been a beautiful woman in the dark blue FBI training suit, but in this dress…Every man’s head turned her way when she had walked through the restaurant’s door.

      Personally, he was into leggy blondes, but he could certainly see the attraction. He tipped his glass to his lips.

      “Do you always drink decaf?” she asked.

      “For the past week or so.” He could hear the pain in his own voice. “I’m trying to kick a bothersome caffeine addiction.” On doctor’s orders. Since he had his hip injury, he hadn’t been moving as much as he should have and his blood pressure had been inching up. He was determined to do whatever it took to pass his next physical. “It’s all about discipline.”

      “How is it going?”

      He groaned just as his stomach growled. “Excuse me.”

      Her full lips stretched into a sympathetic smile. “Missed your lunch?”

      He nodded. He’d gotten into George Town on Grand Cayman Island late on one of those no-meal flights. His bad hip hurt from sitting still for so long. He wanted two things before he’d gone to bed for the night: a good dinner and a report from Anita Caballo on how the analysis of the financial records of their targets was going. So as soon as he’d dropped his suitcase at the hotel, he’d gone in search of her, concerned with what he might find.

      Bribing four convicts to join an undercover team to bring down the king of all criminals didn’t fill him with confidence about the operation’s success. Could the four women succeed where professionals had failed? Carly was a top hacker, Sam a whiz at breaking and entering, Gina an ex-cop who’d done time for manslaughter, Anita a resourceful embezzler of four million dollars. Maybe they would have some kind of edge, a deeper understanding of criminal reasoning or whatever. Or maybe they were heading straight for disaster.

      “How is the consulting business coming along?” he asked.

      “Pretty well.” She seemed to relax at his choice of subject. “We have a half-dozen clients and a couple of nibbles from others. Once we complete this first round of projects, I think we’ll be getting a number of referrals.”

      Since Cavanaugh had left the party minutes after Brant had discovered Anita, they’d followed him to his compound on the beach. And as they weren’t equipped for breaking and entering, he’d decided to end surveillance for the night and take her to the nearest restaurant that was still open, the Reef Street Inn. He didn’t believe in wasting time.

      She looked nervous.

      Did she have a reason other than being caught with a man? Frankly, he would have preferred if she spent one hundred percent of her time and energy on the mission.

      He chewed his beef—a steak and potatoes man through and through—and washed it down with some decaf soda. He poured some extra steak sauce on the next slice.

      “I’m tempted to throw the poor thing a life jacket. You’re drowning it,” Anita said.

      He made a point in sopping up as much sauce as possible. “Best invention since the cow.”

      She smiled and shook her head.

      “So what have you been up to lately?” He didn’t have a good

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