Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 139606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 558(@250wpm)___ 465(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 558(@250wpm)___ 465(@300wpm)
Oakley slid out of his chair and stood. He wore jeans and a T-shirt and sneakers, looking utterly out of place in the luxurious restaurant. But that might be his point. He didn’t have to fit in. He was the king, and he could do as he liked. “Ah, you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you, love. Never been so happy a bloke got called off to work. Come and join us. Meet Dr. Huisman.”
A tall, lanky man stood, smoothing down his suitcoat. As casual as the billionaire looked, Huisman was his opposite. He wore a suit that had obviously been fitted to his athletic body. Huisman looked barely old enough to be in medical school, much less a doctor of his reputation. He was also way hotter in person than he was in photographs. His dark hair was slightly wavy and reached past his ears. He held out a hand, and generous lips gave her a smile. “It’s good to meet you. Tasha, is it?”
Well, if he was a supervillain, he had excellent cover. His voice was soft but deep, and she felt completely unthreatened by the man.
Oakley was another story. She could practically feel the man undressing her with his eyes. Now he was a man she wouldn’t go bold with. He would take that as a challenge. She would have to walk a careful line with him.
“Tasha, yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Huisman. Dare has been telling me about all the fabulous work you do.” She shook the man’s hand.
“Emmanuel, please.” His voice held the faintest hint of a French accent.
“Your guard tried to feel up my girlfriend. I should have walked right out of here,” Dare was saying.
Her Sir needed to relax or they would get into a fight. Did the man not understand Aussies? A fist fight was a perfectly acceptable way of communicating in some circles here. “I’m fine.”
Oakley simply laughed, putting a hand on his chest. “I knew there was a reason I like that bloke. I told the bugger to make sure to vet everyone who comes through, and he uses that as an excuse to feel up a pretty lady.” Oakley winked her way like casual sexism was all fun and games. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to him. You’re not a threat to anything but my concentration. Please have a seat.”
She wanted to because she wasn’t sure she should leave Dare at this point, but Zach had given her an order. “If you would excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room. Be right back.” She went on her toes to brush her lips against Dare’s. “Behave. Remember our plan.”
She turned and walked away, praying he could tamp down the glorious alpha male she seemed to bring out in him.
It took her a second, but she found the hallway that led to the women’s room and wondered what Zach had left her there. He couldn’t follow her in, and if there was another way in it was through a window. So he must have left something behind he wanted her to have.
She pushed through the door of the small room marked Ladies and realized what Zach had managed to smuggle in. “Hey, Lou. You having fun hanging out? You know you’re Lou in a loo, right?”
“That’s terrible.” Lou was dressed in the same dark pants and white shirt as Zach, though she had on a name tag that declared her name was “Nan,” and there was a full mopping rig at her side. And a laptop open on the sink. Her normally shoulder-length hair was hidden under a blonde wig, and she wore far more make up than usual. Kala had been at work on her bestie, and she’d done an excellent job. “And I’ve been in worse places.”
She had, and usually Tash was right there beside her.
“Is there a reason Kenz didn’t tell me Zach got on the staff?”
“Didn’t happen until about an hour ago. We were looking for a way in, but they were vetting everyone, and the manager seemed to be very cautious.”
That could only mean one thing. “What did Zach dig up on him?”
“The owner is a Russian immigrant,” Lou said with a shrug.
Tash could guess. “He’s got Denisovitch connections.”
Her mother’s family happened to run a syndicate with fingers that crossed much of the world. She’d only met her cousin Dusan a few times, but he was the very stereotype of the mafia boss from romance novels. Ruthless as hell, no scruples at all when it came to business, but soft with his family.
He’d had a lot to do with smuggling her out of Russia and into the arms of the Taggarts.
But there was one problem with calling in favors with Dusan.
“He’s going to tell my mom. Did Zach think of that?” Tasha would bet no one else in the history of the Agency had worried about their mom being called in. When Drake and Taylor had decided to bring together teams of agents who were invested in each other, they should have thought about that. James Bond didn’t worry about his mom disapproving of his choices in the field. Or his dad showing up and finding out he was having way too much fun with the target.