in the phony trade talks, you’ll be searching the grounds for information about the location of the virus.”
Walker considered the idea. The thought of playing servant to Jasmine wasn’t especially appealing, but he’d be the primary engaged in the search, so he supposed he could live with the situation.
He glanced at her, observed the knowing tilt of her lush lips. She expected him to refuse, he realized; expected his pride and ego to make the decision for him. Since he had an ample supply of both, perhaps it was a reasonable assumption.
And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Jasmine LeBarr had misjudged him.
“It could work,” he conceded, and paused a moment to enjoy her expression of consternation before addressing Dirk again. “Developing an anthrax virus is a huge undertaking for a Third World country like Maloun. How do we know the Brothers are developing the virus themselves? They could have contracted the job out.”
Dirk was shaking his head before Walker had finished speaking. “Our government gathers intelligence on all countries and groups who try to produce deadly biological agents. The few who have been successful are monitored very carefully. None of them has ties with Maloun, and we’re guessing the Malounians wouldn’t make those kinds of inquiries and risk having their plans leak out. No, they’re directly involved in the development. We know they haven’t lacked for money. A man by the name of Amin Qadir was recently arrested. It’s suspected he was one of the major sources of funding for the group. The only questions remaining are how far along the virus is and where the work is being done.”
“The development of this virus you speak of, Dirk, would require highly skilled scientists, would it not?” Jasmine’s smoky voice curled through Walker’s senses and had an immediate, unwelcome affect on his hormones. He found the involuntary response damn irritating. “They would need technical equipment, expensive supplies…”
“They have to have a lab somewhere,” Walker concluded flatly. Oddly restless, he rose again to cross to Dirk’s desk. Leaning against it, he surveyed the other two. “And their little venture is taking some big financing.”
Nodding, the older man said, “The Brothers of Darkness would be the only group in the country powerful enough to provide all of those. You’ll have to go through them to locate the virus. Once you do, I want you to confiscate it, then get the hell out of the country.” A flicker of concern crossed his face before it was smoothed away. “The group is known for being particularly brutal with those who cross them. A couple of years ago it was rumored that one their members was thought to be selling information on the group to the Pakistani government. He vanished, only to show up a month or so later on the palace grounds, disemboweled.”
Silence stretched, thick and elastic. Walker appreciated the man’s warning, but it wouldn’t change the outcome of this meeting. He’d been committed the moment Dirk had contacted him. “When do we start?”
“Immediately. As soon as I contact Kamal he’ll send his private jet for you. You’ll have time to go out and pick up anything you think you might need.” His handsome face creased with a surprisingly youthful smile. “And if there are any odds and ends that you’re lacking for the job, I can probably supply them.”
Walker was well aware of the odds and ends Dirk kept in his warehouse of high-tech gadgetry. He wouldn’t mind taking a look. The man had an incredible knack for getting his hands on tools still in the prototype stage. “I can be ready.” He sent a lazy glance Jasmine’s way. “How about you?”
If she’d been affected by Dirk’s warning, it didn’t show in her expression. Her gaze met his in a silent challenge before turning to the older man. “I am sure Kamal is anxious for your call. There is no need to make him wait any longer.”
Slapping his hands on his knees, Dirk rose, and after a moment, she followed suit. “I’ll do it right now. Then the three of us can relax and catch up for a few hours. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes?”
Walker waited until the man had strode out the door before focusing on Jasmine. She was, if anything, lovelier than the last time he’d seen her. The scarlet suit she wore showcased her endless legs and hugged her generous breasts. She still wore her long thick hair straight and loose to swing around her shoulders. He remembered how it felt draped across his chest; wrapped around his fingers. And because the memory burned, he gave her a mocking smile.
“Red’s a good color on you, Jaz. You should wear it often.”
She lifted an elegant brow. “Compliments, Walker? I do not remember that you were so flattering the last time we spoke.”
“Yeah, I was hard on you.” Hands still in his pockets, he strolled over to her, noted her almost imperceptible reaction when he deliberately invaded her space. At five foot nine she was five inches shorter than him, and he dwarfed her when he stood this close. She was incredibly feminine, with a delicate bone structure. It was an effective disguise for a woman trained to kill a man in half a dozen different ways.
But her real danger would come not from her skills but her ability to get people to trust her. To underestimate her. Then when she turned out to be something far different from what they expected, she had the element of surprise. He could attest that she used the quality to her advantage.
He crooked a finger, ran his knuckle lightly along her delicate jaw. “I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I was angry.”
Her eyes flickered warily, and this time she did take a step backward. He followed, maintaining the contact. Intent. Predatory. His thumb skated lightly across her lips. He felt each word as she formed it.
“You were furious.”
“Yes.” The word was a whisper of a sound uttered only inches from her mouth.
She moistened her lips. “You are still angry.”
Walker cupped her face with both hands and brushed his lips against hers. Once. Twice. Again. “Do I seem angry to you?”
Her fingers locked around his wrists. When his mouth settled against hers, her grip tightened but she didn’t push him away. He pressed her lips open and let her sweet unique flavor race through his system and fire his blood. When he traced the sensitive inner seam of her lips he was reminded of the silkiness of her mouth and dove deeper. He stroked her tongue with his, forcing her to respond to him. And when she did, when her fingers turned caressing on his wrists and her mouth opened avidly under his, he lifted his lips from hers to murmur, “No, I’m not angry. There’s no point. You can’t help what you are.”
He toyed with the ends of her hair as he waited for his words to register. But then her eyes fluttered open, the look in them dazed, drugged, and lust punched him hard in the gut. And when comprehension chased those feelings away, a deeply primal part of him mourned.
“What…” He distracted her from her words by dropping a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “And what am I?”
“An opportunist.” His lips skimmed the curve of her cheek. “A woman who’ll go to any lengths to get what she wants.” He felt her tense and with a twist had his hands free to capture her wrists before she could use her nails on him. “Hell, you’re not the first woman to use sex to get what she wants. Guess I should be grateful you screwed me literally as well as figuratively.”
She was faster than he remembered. He easily dodged her swiftly raised knee, but not the stomp on his instep. Even as he winced he was grasping both her wrists
