dead loved one had had an insurance policy, courtesy of their employer, he told the head of each family. Blood money—nothing more than a Band-Aid applied to his conscience and a couple of years’ financial security for the families—but he had to believe that it would help. Money always helped—stained red or not.
He went after Yegor Veselov next, who was in Singapore. It took him another day to get to him and extract the information he required, and by then he’d missed his scheduled flight back to Australia.
His new director was not going to be impressed.
He rang Sam instead. ‘Tell her I missed my flight.’
‘Oh, no. You can tell her yourself.’
He guessed he didn’t have to identify himself.
There was a click, two rings, and he almost hung up—like a kid on a prank call. Instead he waited.
‘Jared?’ his director offered curtly. ‘This better be good.’
He gave her the name of another director and smiled mirthlessly when the first words out of her mouth were ‘I knew it.’
‘You’re sexy when you’re smug.’
‘Does that line ever work for you?’
‘I’ve never used it before. It’s a first.’
‘In that case I’ll attempt to feel flattered. Is our informative friend in travelling shape? Can you bring him in to testify against our man?’
‘Doesn’t seem wise. He’s currently dining with an Eastern Bloc president. Or aren’t we caring about that?’
‘I guess we’re caring,’ she said. ‘So, have you tied up all your other loose ends?’
‘I still need to check on the kid. I need another couple of days.’
‘No, you need to prove yourself reliable and be back here when you said you would be. That’s non-negotiable.’
‘Even though I’ve given you a name?’
‘That name is going to need your weight behind it. Is there any reason you need to see this kid in the flesh?’ she countered flatly.
Besides wanting to see Celik for himself and gauge the child’s wellbeing …?
‘He’s being monitored by the Dutch authorities,’ she offered next. ‘Check up on him that way, and if you’re still not satisfied I’ll send you to the Netherlands to see him—no question.’
‘I’m already halfway there.’
‘I’m sending you the contact details for the Dutch who are monitoring him. Call them. And then, in the interest of your future career and my current one, get back here.’
‘Is that an order?’
‘You don’t take orders, so let me put it another way. You asked for my co-operation and trust and I gave them to you. How about you goddamn earn it?’
Jared walked with new purpose and confidence. He wasn’t fixed, by any means—he still slept far less than any man should, and indecision still plagued him—but there was no denying that a weight had lifted from his shoulders now that he’d finally finished what he set out to do. Expose the rot in the counter-intelligence organisation he worked for—all the way back to the roots. Maybe now he could rest and get his life back. Figure out what it was he wanted now.
Apart from that kiss.
Director Rowan Farringdon sat at her desk and watched him approach, her eyes sharp and assessing. Probably looking for signs of weakness or fatigue, injury or distress. It didn’t sit well with him that she was most likely sitting there trying to assess his needs. On the one hand he drew comfort from her concern. On the other hand it made him feel somehow … less.
Less worthy, maybe.
Less capable than he was.
‘I’m back,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘What did you do with the information I gave you?’
‘I sent it to the top.’
‘Will they be able to get rid of him? With your information and mine, is it enough?’
‘I put together a solid case. I believe it’ll be enough. Have you had any sleep?’
‘I slept on the plane.’ More or less. Mostly less.
‘In that case you’re wanted upstairs. Management wants a word.’
‘That’s a level of management I’ve never been introduced to. Any tips?’
‘Yes. Try to impress them.’
She stood and came around her big glossy table, crossed the room to where he was standing with his feet slightly apart and his hands behind his back. She stood a good head shorter than him, even in shoes with medium heels. Today she wore a steel-grey dress with a geometrical pattern on the front in pewter and bronze. Professional and classy. Beautiful lean muscles and some very nice curves.
He wanted very badly to have earned the trust she’d placed in him.
He thought he might have.
He wanted very badly to trust that she’d made the right call when it came to him not going to check on the kid.
‘Jared,’ she murmured. ‘My face is up here.’
‘I know.’ He got there eventually and smiled—because he wanted to.
‘Thank you for coming back on time and in one piece,’ she said. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Did you doubt me?’
‘Yes.’
And then she stepped up into his space, slid her hand around his neck and fitted her lips to his.
It was a quiet kiss—neither tentative nor bold. A very welcome kiss. He tried not to frighten her, tried not to let his hunger show … Except that one second he had his desire under control and his hands behind his back and the next moment he had his hands either side of her face and his longing could no longer be denied.
He coaxed her mouth open and she responded with an intrusion both accomplished and welcome. She tasted of passion and perfection and he groaned his pleasure, for it was a taste he hadn’t known he craved until this moment. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, unleashed his hunger for her just a little bit and felt her match it.
And, oh, the intensity she brought to everything she did—to the feeding of her need and his. He loved it.
Testing her, he unleashed a little more, and her eyes swept closed even as her mouth opened greedily. Careful, considered exploration turned into surrender after that as he offered up his kind of hunger—the kind with a hard and dangerous edge. His brand of possession—desperate and all-encompassing. And Ro … Rowan Farringdon … his director … was
