Tempting Trouble Excerpt #2

Here is another excerpt scene from Tempting Trouble, when Lance decides to get more personal with his methods of finding out more about the mysterious Grace ;).

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Lance caught glimpses of Grace throughout the evening. She appeared hard at work; constantly the mouthpiece for some senator or key aide who had been instructed to discuss with certain Chinese aides.
In those clothes, she looked the part, earnest and perfectly conservative, but Lance remembered the curves underneath. She checked out on the guest list, so she was who she’d said she was. However, the coincidence of her being here was still suspicious.
At least, that was what Lance told himself, as he followed her movements whenever she was in the vicinity. There was something about her that drew him to her—that surprising tart sense of humor, the liquid brown eyes that could light up with anger or laughter, the fluid grace. He wanted to know who this young woman was, and he was determined to see her without her current disguise. He quirked his lips. She couldn’t keep running away every time, not when he intended to catch her by surprise.
 
It was long past her bedtime when Grace unlocked the door to her apartment, humming her favorite group’s latest hit. Whew. Home. Translation was more work than she’d anticipated. Throwing her satchel on the armchair, she strolled into her dark bedroom, impatiently unbuttoning her jacket blouse and shrugging it off. She sat down on the vanity stool and unstrapped her heels, giving a moan of pleasure after discarding the tortuous things. Ugh, how did anyone wear these things for more than three hours? Closing her eyes, she grumbled softly as she rubbed her arches, savoring the feel of her thumbs. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have Tim there to give her a foot rub.
 
She arched her back like a cat, yawned and blinked sleepily as she went over the events of the night. Lazily, she unhooked the back of her bra. So much to think about—what with debriefing and then trying to understand that mysterious—
 
Grace froze. Slowly, she turned her head toward the direction of her bed. Her heart started thudding hard when she confirmed the slight movement she’d caught in the darkness. Someone was in her bed. Someone big, lying there with his hands clasped behind his head. She could pick out his outline from the stream of light coming from her living room.
 
“Pity. I’d hoped to see more of you before you caught me.”
Lance had been lying there for at least half an hour, after walking around her apartment and picking things up here and there to clue himself in about the woman’s personality. He’d enjoyed being in her bed, taking in her slightly fruity scent, imagining her curling up where he was. He refused to picture her there with that boy in the photo on one of the dressers, the one with his arm casually across her shoulders.
Lance hadn’t expected her to drop her top so quickly, and the whole spectacle of her sitting there in the half-darkness with only her bra and skirt, rubbing her feet, her eyes closed, making throaty moans, had kept him silent. Here was Grace O’Connor without her disguise, all sensuous and sexy, with the shadows and light adding an intimacy to her movements. His quick arousal—fierce and sudden—took him by surprise. He’d watched more intimate revelations in his line of business and very little elicited this kind of reaction any more.
 
But she appeared to have breached that part of him too. He’d silently willed her to take her bra off and when she’d reached back to comply, he was all but ready to stride off the bed and drag her back into it with him. It was both a relief and a disappointment when she finally realized she wasn’t alone.
 
Grace heard the voice of the very devil she’d been thinking about, and half-naked as she was, she pivoted to make a mad dash out of her bedroom. Her intruder was faster than she’d thought. One moment, he was lounging there on her sheets, all heavy with indolence, and the next he leapt like a big hunting cat and pounced.
 
She gasped as he gave her a linebacker’s tackle, and as his weight came down, she shrieked in furious protest, pulling herself back enough to try to land a punch into his solar plexus. She didn’t miss her target by much and it was a solid enough punch that produced a grunt from her assailant. Fear and panic gave her the strength to push him off enough so she could roll over to get up. His hand grasped her right ankle as she got to her knees, pulling her off balance. She landed on her front, sprawled every which way. Desperately, she reached down with one hand and pried his third finger out, pulling it back cruelly. He yelped, cursing loud and strong, and let her ankle go.
 
Breathlessly gasping for air now, Grace made another attempt to stand up, her tight skirt restricting her movements. The door was just a scant few yards away, and if she could just get to it.Lance rolled over like a log against the back of her feet, flipping her backwards as she made her frantic flight. She landed on her posterior, legs flailing as his limbs and hers tangled together in a ball of flesh and clothing.
 
The next few minutes were a furious rugby-like grapple. In the darkness, Grace wasn’t even sure which part of him she was punching and biting, and she didn’t particularly care. A part of her registered her attacker wasn’t trying to kill her, just subdue her, and her fear turned into anger as she felt him hold her down limb by limb until she lay panting and perspiring under his male heat.
 
To her humiliation, she realized that they were upside down to each other: his knees held down her arms, his body lay between her legs, his hands were bands of steel around her calves, while his arms gripped her thighs. She was trapped in a classic wrestling pin down, unable to move. She didn’t want to know where his head was.
 
Her skirt had ridden up during their struggle and she could feel his rasped breathing against the inside of her naked thighs. Oh…shit.
“You little hellcat,” Lance muttered, soft and grim, after he caught his breath. “You just betrayed your training with those moves.” She’d stunned him with her agility. Although he knew she fought him out of panic, part of him refused to allay her fears. She’d almost got him where it hurt. If it hadn’t been for his superb reflexes, he’d be lying flat on his back right now. “So, little Miss Intern, care to tell me what agency you work for?”

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Tempting Trouble Excerpt

Tempting Trouble, Grace (McNeil)'s story, is coming out in a week or two. I thought I'd post a sexy excerpt:
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 Grace moaned. Something was doing horribly erotic things to her ear, darting in and out, exploring, swirling, seducing. She tried to twist away from its sexual probing, but found she couldn’t move. Hands moved over her body, lips seared her skin. He was good, she thought, fighting off sleep, so clever with that tongue, so strong and tender and—she let out a scream—horribly wet. Cold water dripped down her back and legs. She forced her eyes open, still half asleep, expecting to confront some nightmarish creature frothing at the mouth, dripping all over her.

She was close. It was Lance Mercy in her bed, on her, holding her down. And he was wet from head to toe. His eyes were blazing like those of a wild beast on the attack.

Grace closed her eyes and opened them again, willing her nightmare to go away. It wasn’t one. He was still there in person. She shrieked again, trying to sit up. “How did you get in here?” Her panicked voice was hushed, husky from alcohol and sleep.

Lance sat astride her, studying her wakening horror with renewed amusement. He did like getting back at her for making him feel jealous. “Some doors can’t be dead-bolted, sweetheart,” he drawled.

She frowned, then remembered her sliding door. She called him an extremely unflattering name.

“Tsk, tsk, such language from that pretty mouth,” he chided.

“You’re wet!” She squirmed. “Get off, you…oaf!”

“I’m sorry. Here, let me get out of these wet clothes.”

Grace’s eyes widened, as she slowly comprehended his meaning. Her mouth tasted like cotton as she watched him pull his wet shirt off and toss it carelessly over his shoulder. His chest muscles were taut, revealing his mood, the movement of his bare arms tense and deliberate. She started to tremble when his hands reached for the buttons of his pants. She tried to speak but her tongue seemed to have disappeared, her eyes wildly following his hands. Finally, she just shook her head at him.

But Lance wasn’t in the mood. “You got wet from my clothes, sweetheart. Let me help you take them off.” He held on to the front of her maroon outfit and with one savage tug, tore it down almost to her waist.

Grace came alive, rearing up and catching him by surprise, pushing him off. Rolling off the bed, she scrambled out of the room, almost killing herself with only one high heel on. He hopped off and followed closely.

“Don’t think you’re going to come in here and find me soft and pliant after the way you acted out there!” Grace fumed, hobbling backwards from him.

“You didn’t expect me to be in the best of moods after the act you pulled at the function, did you?” He stalked her as she used the sofa as a buffer between them. “Did you?”

“Did I do anything you told me not to?” she challenged.

“Yes!” he hissed, walking around the sofa. She half-ran, half-stumbled to the nearby chaise lounge. “I told you not to interfere.”

“You told me to stay out of the way,” she corrected, “which I did. I kept my bloody word, so stop glaring at me! What, do you have any complaints? Didn’t you accomplish your mission?”

Using one arm, Lance vaulted over the sofa. Grace hastily retreated away from the chaise, trying to think of a way to calm a savage beast. Half-naked, his hair darkened by the rain, eyes blazing, he didn’t look anything like the suave deputy advisor to the Council of Asian Trade. Her heart thumped against her throat at the dangerous look in his eyes.

“You’re right, I did accomplish my mission,” he informed her, his eyes level, “and now I’ve come to accomplish my other one.”

She swallowed. “What’s that?” She stared at him as he kept advancing.

“I told you we would celebrate tonight.” He indicated the empty bottle on the coffee table. “Seems like you started without me.”

Grace’s back bumped into the sliding door that led to the balcony. “I wanted to be alone,” she told him, still defiant.

“And I told you I would be back later.” He was close enough to grab her. “Did you have any doubts I would?”

“Yes! I don’t want you here!” She turned, slid open the glass door, and ran out into the rain.

She was dead meat. Lance followed her, cornering her against the banister. Rain half-blinded her as he twined his fingers in her wet hair, pulling her face up to meet his.

“You have a hearing problem, love. I also told you,” he said over the drumming of the rain around them, “that game time is over, Grace. I meant it.”

********

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Another Dangerously Hot Excerpt

Sorry for the silence. I've been very, very busy working on roofs AND trying to finish this story. Maybe you'll forgive me if I let you have another little scene-peek?

DANGEROUSLY HOT (antho. by Gennita Low and Sylvia Day)
Copyright @2012

Luke had caught the car keys Konstantin had thrown in his direction as he’d hurried out of the flat, only stopping to get his jacket. He’d ignored the grin of triumph thrown at him. There hadn’t been time to stop to cuss his friend out for the deliberate delay. As it was, Konstantin had timed the whole incident, cutting it very close. Barring any accident, he might—damn it, Kostya, this wasn’t an online game.

Luke was very aware that he’d just shown his hand on how important the information was by practically running off without a word.
Never mind that he’d arrived with just enough time to wait for La Niina to conduct her business. He’d drunk enough to know he was acting more on emotion than reason. There hadn’t been much time to plan and here she was, strutting about in the back alleys of Talinn like she owned the place.

A woman of experience would know she was being followed. He didn’t bother being too covert. She had something he wanted.

“Twice in a night, Cowboy?” The mockery in her voice was obvious.

He didn’t want to flirt. He had questions that needed immediate answers. But the vodka had relaxed his mood, addled his usual caution. Right now, he felt more himself than he’d been for months.

“Or more,” he said, “if needed.”

Her laughter echoed softly in the darkened alley. “Tempting. But the night’s almost gone. Why are you here, tailing me?”

He suddenly realized she was speaking with an American accent. He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d heard her with different ones—thick French, slurred Russian, broken English. The woman had a gift with languages, which pretty much covered most of the citizens in this part of the world.

“I have business that can’t wait.”

“You knew where to find me. I’m curious. How?”

“Lady, this is our job, remember? Besides, maybe I have business inside the same place.”

She approached. Here, in the dark, with that bottle of vodka swirling in his brain, his other senses seemed to have taken over. Her every moment stroked him like soft velvet. He needed to implement a plan quickly or he was going to lose it.

“Our business seems to be crossing paths a lot,” she murmured. “Ever since that night in Nice, in fact.”

He took a step closer. Another and he would have her against the wall. He breathed in, instinctively seeking her scent. She always smelled good to him, a subtle combination that reminded him of home.

“Exactly,” he said. “I think it’s time we get further acquainted.”

Again, she laughed, sending a delicious shiver down his back. He was feeling amazingly reckless.

“Cowboy—”

Hell. Caution be damned. As Kostya liked to say during his gaming, release the Kraken. “Luke,” he interrupted. “Let’s start with calling me Luke. I’d like to call you…Naya.”

Her sharply drawn breath gave him that one moment of advantage. Although not at 100 percent, he’d anticipated her attack. He dodged the fist. She grabbed his jacket and pulled. Turning, he sidestepped the knee to the groin. The jab to the back of his thigh brought his focus back.

Finesse was fine. But brute strength was far superior. His years in the rodeo circuit had been useful in this business in unexpected ways.
Twist. A snap of her arm—he was careful not to break it—and he had her front against the stone wall. She wasn’t giving up easily, though, moving her leg between his to try to break his hold.

He pressed harder, burying his face against her ear. Her scent invaded and he breathed in deeply. “Tell me, what perfume is that?”

The unexpected question paused her struggling to give him another extra second to secure her even more tightly under him. He wrapped his legs around hers, gripping her with his thighs like he would a bucking steer. Her ass felt good where it was.

She sniffed. “You’re drunk!”

“A bit. See, I’m no danger to you. Just wanted to get better acquainted. Want to answer a few questions?”

“Go to hell.”

Somehow he knew she wouldn’t be that cooperative. Her ass wiggled, rubbing in a way that just wasn’t conducive to calm questioning. He had things he needed to ask and all he could think of was turning her around and tasting those fine lips again.

“This isn’t quite the venue I have in mind, though,” he said.

Some things he could do blindfolded. Like securing a trapped calf. He reached for his back pocket. Timing was everything. He made quick work of making her his prisoner. Her strangled sound of outrage was choked off by a gag. Her hands reached up to undo it and he cuffed her easily. When she swung around, he squatted, jerking the chain on the cuff to unbalance her. She toppled over his waiting shoulder and he secured her ankles with ties. Not bad. Almost like old times.

“Sorry about this, but I can’t have you screaming murder while I take you back to my car.” He put her back on her feet and reached inside his jacket. He had a hood in one of the pockets. He slid it over her head, with the eye holes on the wrong side so she couldn’t see. “Can’t have you recognized either.”

Luke swung her over his shoulder again and strode out of the alley. At this hour, walking in public with an abducted female would hardly lift an eyebrow.

“Don’t wiggle like that, sweetheart. I don’t want to spank you.”
 
He had a pretty good idea the names she was calling him behind the gag. He was drunk and reckless and he didn’t care. He laid one hand on her cute ass and gave it a warning squeeze. She froze.

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Dangerously Hot Chapter 1

This is my work in progress. It's coming out as soon as it's revised, edited, re-edited, re-everything. Meaning. I'm on it while you patiently wait and beg me for more on Facebook :). Enjoy!

DANGEROUSLY HOT
Anthology with Sylvia Day
all rights reserved @2012

The man was delicious to look at. What Americans would call “hot.” Tall. Darkhaired. Rakishlooking with that stubble. And, as always, that heated look in his jewel-green eyes gave her a sudden need for a long cool drink, preferably with vodka.

She was long past the point of wondering why he’d affect her this way. Just that he did. And each meeting, she anticipated that gaze, so direct, so damn intimate, and each time, she couldn’t help herself. She winked at him. And then, depending on the situation, they would pick up or exchange items in the middle or one of them would back away, following the unspoken protocol of a first-come-first-serve basis.

It was part of the game. She could play it a bit hotter but knew she couldn’t afford it.  It was just too bad they were on opposite sides because she had a feeling it’d be more than a bit hotter.

Scorching, more like.

Her superiors wouldn’t approve any consorting without their say-so. After all, she was their fixer. She couldn’t afford to be seen being friendly with someone who could use it against her.

But damn, he was hot. She waited for him to step back, do his usual two finger salute to acknowledge that she’d arrived first this time, but instead, he started walking slowly toward her.

She frowned. This wasn’t their pattern. Nowadays, their respective agencies had agreed to do things with the least casualties as possible. Yes, some treaties actually included secret clauses like “first-come-first-serve,” “positional operative compromise” and “negotiable exchange.”

So civilized.

She didn’t back away as he approached. Curiosity stopped her. He had a hand in his jacket, probably a weapon. It occurred to her that she might be a target but she didn’t think so. If he’d wanted to kill her, he’d have done so already from five meters away. Or any number of times she’d bumped into him the last year.

They’d never spoken to each other directly. He’d never touched her. Their long looks at each other had been when there were no witnesses.

She watched, unable to move, as his hands came up and cupped her face. Tilted it up. His thumbs rubbed her cheeks. She didn’t do a thing as his head swooped down and his lips caught hers. His tongue swept into her surprised mouth. Tangled. Tasted. Vodka and lime. Five seconds, tops.

He stepped back and gazed down at her, those eyes cool and unreadable. The corners of his lips lifted slightly, a smile of a man who had just found a secret.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he softly said, that husky American Southern twang sending a tingle down her spine.

That voice was distinct, instantly recognized in the European underground. The Cowboy had a reputation of getting things done his way. But she had a reputation too, a lethal one.

She continued watching him as he disappeared into the shadows. Five seconds could get a man killed. Five seconds could change one’s life.

* * *

“So, did you make your move?”

Luke unzipped his leather jacket, shrugged out of it, and hung it on the hook by the entrance.  His friend, Konstantin, continued regarding him from the small dining table as he walked to the fridge. Perusing his options, he closed it, and went for hard liquor instead.  He went to sit across from his flat mate. He took a swig from the bottle.

Konstantin flapped the newspapers, folding it over, his dark eyes mocking him with a knowing gaze. “Was she that good? Or that bad?”

Ignoring Konstantin was pointless. He’d just continue riding him all night.

“Maybe I didn’t see her,” Luke said.

“And maybe cows don’t fly. You have the lovesick look about you, buddy.”

Luke grinned. Konstantin’s trademark of over-the-top exaggeration was just what he needed to loosen the tension inside him. His frustration must really be showing. Konstantin had that “I got you pegged” look in his eyes. “Pigs. It should be ‘and maybe pigs fly.’ Cows already don’t fly, Kostya.”

“Whatever.” Konstantin copied the popular American slang term with bored perfection. He flicked his hand expressively. “You’re changing the subject. You can’t distract me from my quest.”

His flat mate also loved online role-playing games. His current obsession was some medieval quest for some magical weapons that pitted worldwide players against each other. Luke had watched him at his gaming sessions now and then, although it was beyond him why anyone, let alone someone who was in their business, would play basically a multi-level dungeon and dragons game for months on end without getting bored.

When asked, Konstantin had just shrugged and replied that it kept him on his toes, and besides, he met interesting people, from professors of medieval history to young men bored with their current factory jobs. Luke supposed those types were interesting to his friend only because they were ordinary people living safe, ordinary lives. He was so into it, he’d brought his current gaming character, Sir Constantinus, into his real-life dialogue, both amusing and somewhat disconcerting to some.

Luke took another swig and peered over the bottle. “And your quest is?”

“Come on, we all deal with information. Do you know how much I could get for proof that The Cowboy and La Nina are sitting on a branch?”

“In a tree,” Luke corrected and frowned. “I should’ve known you’d try to sell information like that.”

Konstantin snorted. “You don’t care if I do or I don’t. The ladies think The Cowboy is a handsome challenge anyway.”

Luke hadn’t chosen that nickname. They called him that because he was so obviously American, with his South Georgia drawl and his boots. It was a pretty useful one since it didn’t sound particularly threatening and was easily identifiable. It didn’t take too long for many in the underground network to get to know the name and it was the first one on their minds when they needed something fixed when they needed an American handler.

Exactly what he wanted. Information from the fringe. Non-network news.

As for La Nina, the woman given that handle was neither a child or frigid. In fact, she was all woman and smoldering hot.

“You know, your silence is louder than any rock concert.” Konstantin reached for his own drink. He cocked an eyebrow before tipping his head back. “You didn’t get any.”

Luke laughed. He certainly wasn’t going to divulge any more information than necessary. “You have it all figured out, Kostya.”

“She’s La Nina. She may have a positive effect on masculine parts but that icy attitude wilts everything. And,” Konstantin added, “she beat you to the place first. Again. How many times this year already?”

“Not that many.” Six to be exact. Out of the dozen or so times they’d gone after the same thing, they’d somehow arrived at almost the same time. She’d scowled the first couple of occasions when he’d beaten her by those crucial seconds, but the very first time she’d gotten the best of him, he’d been rewarded with a sexy smile and a kiss blown in his direction. It was the first smile he’d ever seen on her lips and it lit up her usually guarded eyes.

No, he was convinced that icy attitude about which everyone was so turned of was fake. He’d seen amusement in her eyes before and she’d given him enough saucy winks that betrayed that hidden side of her.

Everything about her intrigued him. He had too much going on right now to make any move, but she often invaded his thoughts. Too much.

When they’d first met, he’d been amused by the icy wall of disdain the dark beauty had thrown up at him and everyone around. She’d looked as if she had other better things to do with her time than mixing around with a bunch of politicians. He hadn’t blamed her. It was a boring affair, with lots of standing around and hand clapping after long, pompous speeches.

It was only an hour or two later, when they’d “bumped” into each other while crawling in the ventilation system, that he’d realized she wasn’t just arm candy for some wealthy contributor. They’d paused without any startled movements, as if it was quite normal to meet in cramped spaces in between building floors, and she’d cocked her head and studied him for a few seconds before whispering in accented English, “I’m going that way.”

She’d pointed to a different direction from his. He’d nodded and replied, “Have fun,” before moving on. Different agendas. He hadn’t thought she would report him that night.

That was the night he’d asked Konstantin to get him a file on her. Since then, he and the delectable Nina had “bumped” into each other in Macedonia, France, Switzerland, even Morocco. It was always interesting how different she looked and acted each time, yet the look she always gave him had the same intriguing amusement. She’d also managed to not have any direct contact with him. Most fixers knew and contacted each other for favors and exchanges of information. From Konstantin’s file, “La Nina” didn’t do that much.

Until now, he hadn’t really acted on his attraction. But it’d been a week of frustration. He’d thought he’d found the most promising lead and it’d led to nowhere. His disappointment, after months of continual failure, was bitter medicine. Tonight he’d gone out to make some money to pay for the recent expenses and there she was, beating at the job. So he’d decided he needed a consolation prize.

Luke frowned. With as much travel as he did, they shouldn’t have met that often. Unless—Konstantin’s exaggerated sigh interrupted his reverie.

“You should really ask more questions about her,” his friend said, flapping his papers again.

Luke raised his eyebrows. “Are you offering it for free? That file you sold me cost a fortune.”

“Hey, I need to pay bills too, you know. And the landlady raised the rent.”

“I gave you extra rent money,” Luke pointed out.

“Only for the time you’re staying here. What about when I’m all alone to fence for myself?”

He laughed and took another drink. Konstantin made enough money but spent too much on high-tech games and gadgets.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll cover next month’s rent if, and only if, you have good information, something that tells me what her handlers are after. She’s been around the same places too much lately. I can’t see how my project ties in with her people’s interests. Find me something that gives me a clue.”

Konstantin smiled wickedly. “Done.” He pulled a disk from between the pages of his newspaper. “Your wish is my command. Those who seek will find.”

Luke scratched his stubble with the bottle’s mouth. He should’ve known Konstantin had something up his sleeve. He reached for the disk.

His friend shook his head and laid a hand over it. “Uh-uh. First, we agree on the month’s rent?”

“Only if the information is useful.”

“You know, if you weren’t a friend, I’d just take the disk back and let you find yourself another sifter. Most people just pay and take what is there.”

“That’s flea market information. You’re a specialist.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Not that your sifting skills have helped me in my quest the last ten months,” Luke said. Every piece of information Konstantin had provided had led to dead ends or more questions. It was time to push his friend a bit harder. “Maybe it’s beyond your skill level?”

“Ouch. You wound me. And I suddenly feel insulted. You’re lucky you have a bottle in front of you or I might not fight this urge to punch you.”

Luke grinned back mockingly. “Now you’re trying to distract me. I don’t dispute your amazing ability to get news about lost objects, but maybe missing people isn’t your forte.”

Konstantin was a first-rate sifter and in spite of recent setbacks, Luke was confident his friend would eventually get to a key piece of information that would help. But, he’d also kept from Konstantin the real reason why he’d kept on going, in spite of depleted funds and numerous dead ends. Ten months missing was a long time, but he refused to give up.

“Yet you’re curious enough about La Nina you asked me to assemble a file for you. Technically, she isn’t a missing object or person, so how do you know my info is correct?” Konstantin mocked back. He pushed the disk across the table. “Do you want this or not?”

“You’re a pain in the ass when you’re argumentative.”

“And you’re cute when you’re mad. Now come on, let’s do some good drinking. That woman’s obviously gotten under your skin. Either you get laid or she’s going to make you a bad-tempered poor man.”

Luke couldn’t agree more. He’d barely tasted her. He wanted to do more.

Later, after another hour of shared alcoholic small talk, he sat at his desk in his room. Konstantin had tried to play down the lack of new avenues, advising him that something unexpected always appeared. Trying to avoid thinking about his disappointment and about a hot kiss, he’d drunk quite a bit more than he’d wanted, until Konstantin had checked his watch and abruptly sent him to bed, joking that he should go dream about La Nina.

Oblivion would be welcome. Curiosity got the better of him, though. He inserted the disk into his laptop and started clicking on the objects in the open folder. A personal email. Familiar items they’d both gone after. One was an envelope she’d gotten hold of before him. Photos. Probably blackmail ones. Fixers generally were asked to retrieve those. He clicked on one of the thumbnails. The image made him sit up in his chair, the warmth from alcoholic consumption receding like a bucket of ice water.

“Damn you, Kostya,” Luke muttered, his chair scraping the floor as he fumbled with the keyboard. His friend had played him well.

* * *

Tonight’s job was relatively simple. Pick up an envelope at the old hotel’s desk. Deliver it. No dressing up. No taking off to another country. Nothing strenuous, unlike the last assignment, that had included scaling a building in the dead of night. The meeting was going to take place at a much later hour, giving her time for a quick meal.

Looking out the bus window, Nina rubbed the back of her neck. Easy night but then, it wasn’t over yet, and she was still tired. She needed some downtime soon. Traveling all over the place meant little time to adjust to different time zones. She’d been making do with naps but her energy wasn’t at peak level. Not good. She needed to be on her toes at all times.

Tonight, she’d slipped, allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. She’d already let him get to her, and now she’d gone one step further. Why had he kissed her? That was the last thing she’d expected—him acting out her fantasy.

She must be tired. Or she would have given him a reason or two not to touch her again. She felt her lips curve into a smile thinking about him. He did look good in that leather jacket, though. She’d wanted to put her hands inside it to find out whether he was as hot as he looked. Her smile turned into a grin which she hastily hid with a hand, pretending to suppress a yawn.

She stood up as the bus neared her destination. Good-looking or not, she couldn’t afford any distractions right now, and especially with someone in this business. Things were murkier than ever and adding another emotional complication into her life would be exactly like the little missteps that led to a fatal one. Of course, her father was referring to chess pieces she lost to him one by one during their games, but she’d always known he was teaching her something else entirely.

A cold blast of air hit her as she exited. Exactly what she needed.

She walked briskly down the winding streets, the old crumbling cobblestones under her shoes sticky with wet dirt and trash from the day. There weren’t too many people out at this hour but in no one was ever alone in this part of town. Most tourists had gone back to their hotels, warned by their guides to stay away at night; most of the locals avoided the area, knowing well that it could erupt in sudden violence in the darkness of night; and the law, paid off, mostly looked away. The result was an area on the seedy side of the town that was mostly self-governed by crime groups.

Some, like her, had a pass to walk through without too much fear of being accosted by gangs. Nina kept one hand in her jacket, though. It didn’t pay to be complacent.

In the daylight the old city had the charm of history mixed with modern high rises, but late at night, parts of it became gothic, shrouded with its secrets. The underground world came alive. Cobbled alleys and ancient arches led to sweaty clubs playing techno music and forbidden back ways that opened to other forbidden dens of iniquity. This was where things got exchanged without getting traced, where deals were made between parties preferring to stay anonymous, and those playing international espionage games sometimes chose to meet. Talinn was a city churning with foreigners and Nina knew she was thought of as just another seeking her fortune between the borders of Russia and Finland, as so many had done through the centuries.

She rapped three times at the door of a massive structure which had been the house of a nobleman a century ago. Now it was run by people not quite as noble. Nina suppressed another smile. Something was wrong with her tonight. She couldn’t seem to stop joking about every little thing.

A little hole slid ope and a face peered out. “What’s the problem?” he asked in Russian.

The code word was “found.” “I found something you lost,” Nina replied, “and would like to return it to the owner.”

The slider shut and the door unlocked with a loud clack. She pushed it open with a foot. A big burly man sat at a high round table, playing solitaire, a gun by a stack of cards. He didn’t look up.

“Left passage, second door. Don’t go in anywhere else or you deal with the consequences.”

Nina strode into the dingy foyer. She placed cash on the table, right beside the weapon.

“Relax, Mikhail,” she drawled. “I’ve never caused any trouble here.”

The burly man turned over a card. “Keep it that way. I like you, La Nina, but there’ve been reports you used your weapon in the market place. I don’t want any attention drawn here.”

Nina shrugged. “The market place’s different. Everyone’s trigger happy and thinks with his dick.” Her persona, La Nina, was a cold and unapproachable character and she played that part well. Fuck with La Nina and she used her weapon. It was good way to keep the hooligans at bay. She looked in the direction of the left passage. “Is the owner here or do I wait?”

“Not here yet.” Mikhail finally looked up. His eyes, mismatched in size, made him sinister- and dangerous-looking even without the gun. “I wouldn’t dawdle with this one. Whatever you’re up to, finish with him quickly.”

“Didn’t think you cared,” she murmured. Behind those doors were clandestine meetings going on. The man sitting there didn’t look it, but he had good information.

Mikhail picked up her cash and pocketed it. His gaze met hers, dark and emotionless. “Nah,” he said. He pointed a beefy finger to his bald head. “Just wanted you to think about who you’re dealing with. Money is everything but some money takes everything.”

Nina held his gaze for a moment. Warning?

“That’s a roundabout way of saying money isn’t everything,” she retorted lightly. “I absolutely agree. I’ll talk to you later.”

She went to the designated room, a simple small 5x5 place with a table, chairs and a jug of water. It was actually one of the more “luxurious” rooms in the building. She’d been inside a couple that were cubby holes, not unlike confessional booths in churches, except those using them were probably planning to commit more sins rather than to repent.

She picked the chair facing the door. Five minutes passed. Usually, they were on time or her handler would call her on her cell. Ten minutes. Her rule book said, if there were no communication, an item not picked up went back to the open market at her discretion. Patting her jacket, she thought of the large envelope hidden inside. She didn’t know what was in it and should first call to ascertain everything was in order. Missed meetings were not a usual thing. She stood up.

Nina nodded at Mikhail, giving him a shrug as information. He checked the monitor on the wall, pulled a lever and the heavy wooden door unlocked. Outside, she zipped her jacket up again as she slipped into the semi-darkness.

Across the street, a group of youths were dancing as their thug friends jeered on. Down the road, she could see prostitutes sitting on their stools under some brightly lit corridors. Parked cars. No one hurrying toward the building. A furtive glance to her right. She took a side alley. Down another. She finally turned around.

“You’re a lousy tail,” she remarked conversationally. “I usually shoot first when I’m tired. You’d better come out, Cowboy.”

He emerged from behind, much closer than he should be.

His voice floated toward her, dark with promise. “I’m much better on top.”

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An Excerpt From Ch 2 Alex and T

I know some of you don't like spoilers, so I posted the excerpt over at FYEO. This is a scene included in my proposal package. More coming soon. Enjoy!

Questions and comments welcomed!

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Secret Excerpt

This is for those who like spoilers and clues. Oh, yes, this is the ultimate teaser, heh heh. This is the (very short) beginning excerpt of VOne at the back of VHers.

Hey, what can I say. MORE BIRTHMONTH gifts for GLow readers ;-). Below the cut (click below), you'll find out why I asked, between JED and ALEX, who would win a fight. Note that I've taken out some spoilers for VIRTUALLY HERS from the conversation because, you know, half the fun is in not knowing everything. But I know you're going to debate and let me know the outcome of this scene ;-). Can't wait.

To read excerpt, click on the "No Need etc." link below. SAFE for work.

VIRTUALLY ONE short excerpt

“He’s been at this for two hours now. Go talk to him,” Dr. Kirkland said.

Alex Diamond looked down from the observation center, its Plexy glass muting the sounds coming from the workout area. He watched as his friend, Jed, methodically disposed four “assailants,” using more force than necessary and not adhering to the usual protocol of a practice session. In short, he was pounding the shit out of whoever was unfortunate enough to be on today’s workout list. A number of them had been curious enough to try to take on one of the commandos in the elite “Virus” team. A few of them, he noted, had heard that Jed was on a rampage and was wise enough not to show up.

“You have to do something,” Dr. Kirkland continued, a note of desperation entering his voice as Alex continued his silence. “That’s his fourth group. The injury list is growing.”

“He seems to be taking care of himself,” Alex observed, although he understood what Dr. K meant.

“I don’t want to see my Medic rooms filled with unnecessary patients, Alex. He broke Carrington’s arm. He knocked Jackson out. It’s time for someone to intervene before he really does someone serious damage. He won’t listen to me.”

“What makes you think he’d listen to me?” Alex murmured, not taking his eyes off his friend. “He might not be in the mood to talk, you know. ***SPOILER TAKEN OUT*** the probable cause of his current state of misery.”

He was amused at the choking sound coming from Dr. Kirkland, and even though he didn’t turn his head, he could imagine the good doctor’s stare of incredulity. Jed’s current mood was the talk of Center and misery wasn’t the word used to describe it.

“There’s a reason and he knows it’s valid. Besides, anger doesn’t solve the current crisis,” Dr. Kirkland observed, “and I doubt you want me to send T. to him. She’d likely just taunt him to fight her too.”

That brought Alex’s attention sharply onto Dr. Kirkland. There was no way he would allow T. to fight Jed, but that was exactly what she’d do because T., being who she was, would want to take on Jed at his current vulnerable condition. And Jed was vulnerable right now, ***SPOILER TAKEN OUT***.

“You haven’t asked her to go down there,” he stated, just to make sure.

Dr. Kirkland shook his head. “She’s my next choice if you refused. You’re his closest friend, Alex. All those years you were out in the cold, he’d protected you and taken care of your personal business, as well as making sure Center ran smoothly enough that the Committee listened to him to give you time alone outside.”

“So you’re saying it’s time to pay him back?” Alex asked, a bit more harshly than he’d intended. His friend, after all, had finally tricked him into returning to Center by using bait in the form of a woman named T.

Dr. Kirkland shook his head again as he gave Alex a long look. “I’m saying it’s time to be a friend,” he replied.

*

Jed looked up when he walked into the training room, finishing off an “opponent” with a back kick. He straightened, then after a moment, lifted his hand, palm out, and wiggled his fingers, beckoning him in mocking challenge.

“I’ve been sent here to talk to you,” Alex said calmly. He hadn’t seen Jed in this kind of rage in a long time.

“Not going to happen. Fight me or get out.”

“We’re running out of bodies.”

“Then you ought to stay and give me a bit of a challenge,” Jed lashed back. “Why hesitate? You’ve wanted to since you returned.”

It was true. Jed’s manipulation these past few months had seriously tempted him to punch the daylights out of his friend. Or attempted to, anyway. Alex took several steps forward, gave a sideway glance at the remaining operatives in the room, and issued an order. “Get out.”

A few picked up the injured and started to leave. A few strayed behind, reluctant to miss out on what could be the greatest duel at COMCEN. It wasn’t everyday that two of the top Viruses went all out at each other. Shahrukh and Sullivan’s swordfights were events to behold, but to have Number One against Number Nine? That was like taking picks for a game of fantasy death match.

When the door closed on the last one, Alex said, “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“And you’re an expert at not blaming yourself, of course.”

Damn him. He would bring his own past out to bait him. “You haven’t lost her.”

“I’m not mourning her,” Jed said. “Come, let’s start this. I have a dictionary to read in an hour or so. I’ll be sure to pick out the right words for you then. Mourning more befits you than me.”

His demeanor had turned bored but Alex wasn’t fooled. It was Jed at his deadliest, when he could slash open wounds with words and actions. Everything he was throwing at Alex was meant to eviscerate his good intention not to fight him. He understood that too well—the need to hurt so he could be hurt back. Sympathy only angered Jed right now, as it did for Alex all those years ago, when he'd lost his wife.

He shook his head. “I’m trying to be your friend.”

Jed’s smile was nasty. “Trying? Let’s do better than that, shall we?”

And he leapt forward for the first strike.

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Yo, It's His Jedness Saying Hi

...in his own unique way ;-). I thought I would tease those who are thinking about His Jedness. He says: "Happy Leap Year Day."

No, I mean, I thought I would let His Jedness TEASE YOU! Don't read if you don't like spoilers....

*************************

Jed watched everything Helen did from his quarters as he put on his sensor suit. Her sensitivity must be bothering her more than she realized. First, she’d forgotten to check whether the micro-eye in her room was blinking, signaling that she was being watched. Second, she’d assumed that the brain entrainment machine couldn’t be controlled from the outside.

Elena, Elena.

Putting the wireless control pad on the cart that supported the BE machine, he wheeled it to the room off the side of his office, a smaller version of the CAVE. Unlike Helen’s training room, though, he had multiple control panels that he could use to enhance the virtual reality experience that the CAVE provided. He even had the Portal, the VR chair that enabled immersive virtual reality, here. Whereas the CAVE was all physical, with the participants moving around, the Portal was all mental. The former prepared TIRVVR in the latter.
Jed turned on a side screen, changing the channels to Helen’s quarters. He waited till she lay back and closed her eyes. Reaching for the control pad by his side, he readjusted the timer.

There would be no alarm to wake you up, Elena. Not till I say so.

He turned up the temperature in Helen’s room. Then he put on the tabs and ear buds that connected him to the BE machine and flipped the synchronization button. Soon their brain waves would be in sync as she went deeper in theta wave, the level that enabled remote-viewing.

Flipping on another switch, the room plunged into deep darkness. He checked the BEM. Not quite there yet. As soon as they were close to sync, he would start the brainwave management.

He settled back, letting the sound wash over him as he relaxed. This was a new way to sexually imprint, he supposed. He’d first seduced her in virtual reality. She’d then seduced him when she invaded his dreams. After that, he’d gone to her.

He let his mind wander back to the night before. Elena naked and aroused, begging. The unique taste of her. The urgency of her release. It felt so damn good to be finally inside her instead of virtual touching.

Fucking was so much better when it was real.

Jed smiled wryly as he watched the screen. His eyes half-closed as his body relaxed. She must be feeling the warmth because she just kicked the light sheet off her, revealing beautiful bare legs. Legs that he recalled holding apart. The feminine heat between them when he’d used his mouth to pleasure her. He felt himself getting aroused.

He turned the volume higher as the brain entrainment machine continued feeding them the cycle he’d chosen, between theta and REM. That was the level when she had been in when she’d unexpected took in the images in his dreams as her own. He hadn’t been too shocked by the experience. Unconscious telepathy happened all the time among family members and lovers. The question was, in her sensitive state, would she now inadvertently take in the images and feelings of his private fantasy?

Conjuring an image of a naked Elena came easily. He’d like those strong legs around him again, this time with her moving in rhythm to his thrusts. He watched with interest as Helen’s legs parted tantalizingly, seemingly responding to the sexy visual in his head.

Mental trigger had begun.

The sound waves seemed to recede into the background as Jed gave in to total relaxation, focusing on only one thing—that sexual need he’d been building up for Helen Roston. He’d always been turned on when she started undressing herself by the poolside. In response, on the screen, Helen put a restless hand on her shirt, as if it was bothering her.

Was there some kind of telepathy compounded by their brain wave syncing?

He did enjoy it so much when he’d gone to her. “But now it’s your turn, Elena,” Jed whispered.

**************

See? No elevators here. Would Helen "go to" him? Heh, heh. Any comments?

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Jed And Elevators

VIRTUALLY HERS EXCERPT
by Gennita Low
Copyright @ 2007
All Rights Reserved

*****************
“Wait!”

Jed kept walking. He hadn’t planned on Elena getting up so soon. She was supposed to rest after accepting his hypnotic suggestion. Usually, it took quiet time for the subconscious to absorb everything. Did he fail? It sometimes took a few sessions to embed successfully, but he’d thought he’d managed to lead Elena along to the right point.

He frowned. For selfish reasons he hadn’t exercised his usual patience with her. And that odd sensation that told him when she was near—what was that? His frown deepened. He had felt it earlier while on the ship too, but she wasn’t anywhere near that location.

He ignored the open curiosity from the others in the office area at the sight of them. No doubt the swelling on his face had something to do with it. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Elena packed quite a punch in her swing.

“I’m getting tired of going after you. Are you such a fucking coward,” she demanded, as she fell into step beside him, “that you won’t face me and answer my questions?”

His lips quirked. But he did want her to chase him around. He’d wanted her to keep thinking about him. “I thought we had an appointment later,” he reminded her. He had other things in mind besides talking, of course. “I have two more meetings today.”

“That was before…before what you did.” She grabbed his arm hard, then deliberately stepped in front of him, halting his progress toward the elevator. “I want to talk now.”

Her words told him a lot. First, that she knew and comprehended what had happened besides their sexual encounter. He wasn’t surprised that she’d caught on because she was a strong woman mentally—one of the strongest he’d met, actually—and had continually resisted him.

It wasn’t until the breakthrough with the brain entrainment machine, when she’d somehow entered his dreams, that he’d found a chink in her armor. He would use that subconscious desire to seek him out even in her sleep against her. It was new territory for a jaded operative like him. Seduction had never been this intriguing. Now, he wondered whether he’d possibly not pushed hard enough. Sexual imprintment, after all, meant sexually bonding with a target repeatedly, and he had just started.

He almost smiled again. Not hard enough? The growing constriction in his pants reminded him how hard she’d gotten, and was now making, him. Without even trying. Damn, but he wanted her.

He moved to the side. She countered, blocking his path again.

He considered the idea of pushing her through one of the adjoining doors in the hallway and showing her exactly what he had in mind. Talk wasn’t the top priority. His earlier session with her had left him hard and wanting, needing the real touch of her instead of all that virtual shit floating in his head. But his job had to come first.

Even now, with her standing inches away from him, the faint scent of her fragrance teased him with thoughts of using his tongue to find its source. He hadn’t been so easily aroused in a long time.

He studied her angry eyes. Some things one couldn’t find out in virtual reality—her eyes changed to a muted green when she was emotional. Would they change color when he was buried inside her?

That thought made him even more aroused. This sexual need for her. Maybe he’d mistakenly imprinted himself instead. His lips finally quirked with suppressed humor.

“It’s not funny!”

Her other hand reached up to shove him. At that moment the elevator door opened. Jed neatly caught the free hand, twisted his body sideways and pulled her along with him into the empty carriage. He pressed the floor he wanted and the doors slid shut. Noting that she wasn’t putting up much of a fight, he typed the code onto the pad, deactivating the microeye. He supposed he could test whether his hard work paid off.

Her eyes widened when he moved her captured hand down to the bulge in front of his pants. “Five minutes,” he said, then pressed forward, pushing her against the wall, holding her hand tightly as she reflexively cupped him. She gasped as he bit her neck, ignoring the numbness in his jaw where she'd punched him. “Starting now. I’ll just show you your answers.”

************

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Uber Teaser

A quickie tonight.

For those who don't read FYEO and are fans of...ahem...T and Alex, I'm adding this new link below as an EXCERPT in VIRTUALLY HERS. It's seen through COMCEN's eyes in this version, of course, and will be rewritten in the final version of the book.

T and Alex's moment

Evil?

Yes. Me evil. ;-) But you enjoyed it.

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