The Agent's Proposition. Lyn Stone

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The Agent's Proposition - Lyn  Stone

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“We’re flying into Nice, right?”

      “That’s the plan.”

      “I wonder why he’s based in Tropez, where there’s not much action. Not in the way of gambling, anyway. Nice or Monaco, where the big casinos are, would make more sense.”

      She shrugged. “Maybe he’s kicked his habit. It’s been a couple of years.”

      “He would need money for it and probably got an advance on this job. Let’s hope so, anyway. He’ll be easier to find if he’s still gambling.”

      “So you don’t think his motive is political?”

      Cameron smiled and shook his head. “Not a chance. Gaming is his first love, testing his smarts. Maybe he’s an addict, maybe not, but he loves it. He wouldn’t do it online, at least not exclusively, because he also loves the casino scene and the flashy women he meets there. All that takes money, a lot of it.”

      “And he knew where to get it.”

      “That’s why he’s in this, then and now. You can bet he has a state-of-the-art computer set up somewhere to play with. The hacking is also a game to him, and he thrives on games.”

      She toyed with a strand of her hair, twisting it around her finger. “With women, too, you think?”

      “Of course. He likes to believe he’s God’s gift to the female gender, handsome, charming and clever as all get out.”

      “Is he?” she asked with a worried little frown.

      “Pretty much. You’ll see. So don’t underestimate him.”

      “Did you?” She actually smiled, a not-so-subtle taunt.

      Cameron shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d have had him if I could have gone in alone and caught him before he erased the evidence. He was fast, I’ll give him that. Less than three minutes’ warning as they busted down his door. Before they got to him, his computers were clean as a school library system.”

      “They thought you warned him?”

      “Yes, well, to be fair, sometimes operatives do get sympathetic feelings for the subjects when they delve that deeply into their lives and see the reasons behind the behavior.”

      “You like this guy?” Her look accused.

      “I know him. I get why he does it. He’s young, kind of clueless in some respects, and I think he was used, but no, I don’t like him.” Cameron sighed. “He’s a spoiled, selfish brat who resents anyone in authority, and he believes he’s a genius.”

      “So you don’t think he’s a hardened terrorist out to destroy a country.”

      “Not my call. I reel ’em in. Somebody else guts them.”

      She sighed and sat back, patting the armrests with her palms. “Well, he’s a pretty big fish, and I’m not familiar with the fishing gear.”

      “Don’t worry. I’m the gear. You’re the bait.” Cameron smiled at the analogy. “Trust me, sweetie, you’ll be the juciest worm on the hook.”

      She let it go at that and began studying the notes on his computer. Cameron busied himself working out the details of transforming her. He looked forward to seeing her reactions and instructing her in what to do. She was a lot less predictable than he’d first imagined. His thoughts kept returning to her kiss. And his.

      If they ever got to the point of equal involvement, he wondered what would happen next. He knew it would lead to sex if she let it, but what then? It had been a long time since he’d been interested in what then.

      The girl was unique, not his type and definitely out of bounds. He knew he’d better keep things on a professional level. There was too much at stake not to do that. A little slap and tickle between temporary partners wasn’t all that unusual, but it was typically only stress relief or just plain fun. Tess was so far above that, he couldn’t even imagine her approving, much less participating. It would have to mean something a whole lot deeper, and he didn’t do deeper. Not after that struggle getting over Brenda.

      Resignation replaced his anticipation. Business only, then. No more kissing, one-sided or not. That sure lent a boatload of urgency to the mission. He’d do what he needed to do, get it over with and go home. Forget her and the job. Fish. Drink beer. Shoot the breeze at the bar and fish some more.

      Maybe he ought to get to know her better, though. It only made sense to get a firm grasp on who he was working with and how she thought. Right?

      He did understand her enough to know she’d expect tit for tat, so he turned to her. “Since we’ve teamed up for this, do you have any questions about me you’d like to ask?”

      “Like what?” She looked wary.

      “Oh, I dunno.” Cameron leaned on the armrest and cocked his head to one side. “Personal stuff. For instance, how did you get into this business, anyway?”

      She smiled. “Okay, how did you get into this business, anyway?”

      “Majored in international studies and minored in criminal justice at Georgia. Joined the army and did three years. When I got out, Savannah seemed too small town. I applied to the Company and moved to D.C. How about you? I heard that those special teams are formed by invitation only.”

      She looked thoughtful. “They are. I was recruited.”

      “Because you had some kind of special talent? I heard that each of your agents is required to have something unique, an edge that would be useful in counterintelligence beyond the obvious skills required.”

      “You heard all that, did you?” Her smile was provocative.

      “You know how the intel grapevine works. The CIA had a big study going on for years that involved paranormal activities. Rumor has it that didn’t stop when the funding did. So what’s your trick?”

      Her gaze met his, and she said nothing for a full minute. Then she answered. “I read people fairly well, that’s all.”

      “Minds, that sort of thing?” he asked, pressing her.

      “Mostly I pick up visual clues, expressions, body language and so forth.”

      “Fascinating. How did you study for that?”

      She frowned and looked away. “That’s getting really personal.”

      “Hey, working together as closely as we will is personal. Trust is necessary. It pays to know your partner as well as you can.”

      “I suppose you have a point. As long as you reciprocate, I guess it won’t matter. After all, we’ll probably never even see one another when the mission’s over. Unless you go to work for us.” She had leaned back against the headrest and spoke as if she were talking to herself. “And if you do, we’ll need to be…acquainted. All right then.”

      Cameron realized how hard it must be for her to share information about herself, but she was doing it, anyway, because she thought he was right.

      Her

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