“We’ve learned Theo had started building it a few years ago. His plan was to move into it next year.”
“Do you think Ryker is treating Marie okay? She did help us.” Olivia had been surprised to learn the young girl’s true age was twenty-one. When Marie was sold to Theo by her parents, she been small for her age, probably from malnutrition, and looked nine. In actuality she’d been twelve, almost thirteen. Olivia had been right. Marie was a good actress to hide her real age from Theo. He would’ve killed her for lying.
“He’s not the brother I remember when we were kids.”
Olivia fingered a few strands of his hair. She didn’t like hearing the sad tone in his voice.
“What now? You don’t intend to blow up your brother.”
She wanted to feel confident he wouldn’t kill Ryker, but one thing she’d learned about Collin, he did whatever was necessary to protect the OS and his people.
“No. When I spoke with Arthur yesterday, he was having trouble with someone killing women in his area.”
She punched his arm. “You sneaky bastard. You wanted those blow jobs.” When she hit him again, hard, he pulled her into his lap.
“You’re so good at it,” he whispered as he held her face and stared deep into her eyes. How could she complain when he looked at her like that?
A wiggle of her butt brought an answering hardness in his lap. She closed her eyes and rested a cheek in the crook of his neck. Never had she’d been so content. She felt like she lived in a beautiful erotic dream now. With a sigh she squeezed him around the waist and he returned the sentiment.
“Collin, are you sure—” Nic stopped in mid-sentence as she walked into the room. She lifted her gaze from the papers in her hands, her eyes widened as she stared at the pair cuddling behind the desk.
Olivia worked hard at getting along with the dark-haired woman. In fact, she avoided her whenever possible. At first, she’d tried to be friendly, but Nic refused all overtures of friendship. Just as well, as A. J.—she could never get use to calling her Abby—told her the woman followed Rex around like a little puppy. And like most men, he didn’t see it. A. J. tried to ignore Nic as she struggled with Rex’s never-ending questions about her life in The Circle. Olivia had pointed out she needed to talk to him, that she had nothing to be ashamed of. She had done what was necessary to survive because she’d believed Rex was dead and he’d believed the same of her. What A. J. had done with Jack, Rex’s brother, was over and done years ago. A. J. ignored her advice, as she did Nic’s crush on Rex.
“Sure of what?” Collin pressed Nic, pulling Olivia out of her thoughts.
The woman blushed and cleared her throat. “Ah, that Ryker believed it was someone in the OS?”
He nodded with one eyebrow lifted.
Olivia stiffened as her face flushed and then she twisted, turning her back to Nic and shooting Collin a look he couldn’t misinterpret. Anger didn’t cover how she felt. He’d told Nic before telling her he’d called his brother. Hurt churned her stomach. No matter what his intentions were, good, bad, or sexual, she should be first. She pushed off his chest to stand and he grabbed her wrists, stopping as he gave her a cold stare.
“Let go of me,” she whispered. He was boss and she refused to embarrass him in front of one of his people.
“Nic, I’ll talk to you later.” He cut his eyes over to the other woman without releasing Olivia.
“Sure. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave these over here for you to look at.”
Nic slid the stack of papers onto one of the empty chairs in front of the desk. With a wrinkled brow, she took one last glance and then closed the door behind her.
Tremors started at Olivia’s chest and traveled down until her hands shook like a person in twenty degree weather without a parka. She kept telling herself she was overreacting. It didn’t mean he suspected her of betraying the OS.
“Olivia, do you have something you want to tell me?” His hands dropped from her wrists.
Before he could grab her fingers, she slapped him. As his cheek turned red, she understood her anger was more from jealousy than anything to do with his distrust. This business rarely allowed anyone to be naïve for long and it had been years since she trusted anyone until she met Collin. Just because she trusted him didn’t mean he returned the sentiment.
His eyes flared amber as he captured her hands, stopping her from doing more damage.
“So, you didn’t have anything to do with sabotaging The Circle’s missions,” he said more as a statement of fact than a question.
Her growing anger burst free when she broke from his hold and jumped to her feet. He followed in a synchronized move as his big body covered hers, pressing her back to the wall. He clasped her wrists into one hand and slammed them over her head.
“Let go of me,” she hissed.
“You’re fucking hot when you’re mad.” He nipped her earlobe.
“You said that just to make me lose my temper.” Frustrated but happy to know he still trusted her. She wiggled, showing her willingness to play along.
“And you’re more dangerous than any firearm you love so much. You’re my sniper rifle. I would let you slap and beat me every day of the week as long as you return the favor.”
“Let me beat you?” she asked.
He never acted like pain was his forte before and it sure wasn’t hers. She might enjoy having it rough on occasion, but never for the pain. Olivia shifted her hip. His hard cock pulsed against her groin and she melted into him. No man ever made her feel like this. Soft and feminine.
“No. Let me love you.” His mouth took hers.
She moaned and sank into the kiss. She loved this man who wasn’t afraid to let her be herself. Leaning her head away, she touched his cheek.
“What about your brother and The Circle?” she asked.
He gave her a crooked grin.
“Let him get his own woman.”
She giggled.
“Do you want to get the handcuffs or should I?”
I’m a fortunate person to have so many people who have been a mentor, critique partner, or cheerleader and sometimes all three rolled inside friendship. Special thanks to Sherrilyn Kenyon, Christy Reece, Jennifer Echols, Lexi George, Paula Graves, Diane Richmond, and JoAnn Weatherly. Diane and JoAnn, I will never forget celebrating together with champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. They never tasted so good.
And a huge thanks to my editor, Wendy Lee. I’m so happy it was YOU who found me in that slush pile.
I’m lucky to have two of the greatest beta readers! Terri Nguyen and Candice Moody. Thanks, ladies.
Thanks to my dad and sister for believing I could do it. Thank you, Mom, for the beautiful flowers in celebration of my first sale. Thanks to my brother and his wife for being truly happy for me.
I finally did it, girls! Love and hugs to Candi and Audie. Well, Steve, all the hard work on that office you built paid off. Thank you.
The story of The Circle continues . . .
After four local women are found dead from a new designer drug, Arthur Ryker orders his mercenary organization, The Circle, to find the source, a mysterious figure called the Wizard.
As a child, Marie Beltane was sold for drugs by her parents to a madman. Now that he’s dead, she’s determined to prove she’s worthy of more and goes on assignment to stop the killings. But things go wrong when she’s injected with the same drug.
Scarred inside and out, Ryker struggles with his failure to protect Marie from the world as well as himself. He becomes reckless during his search for the antidote and is captured by a new evil. Now he must become the monster he always feared to save the woman he always loved.
Read on for a sneak peek at
A
rthur Ryker sprang out of bed and immediately stood at attention, feet apart, his scarred hands in the ready position at waist level. One hand cupped by the other, restrained but prepared to kill. He shook his head and sighed. Just once he wanted to leave his bed like a regular person and not like a trained monkey.
“A bad dream?” a deep voice asked from the bedroom entrance. With one pierced black eyebrow lifted, Jack Drago leaned against the door jamb.
Ignoring the question, Ryker walked naked into the bathroom. When he returned to grab some clothes out of the closet, Jack hadn’t moved but his gaze had most likely inspected every inch of the room. There wasn’t much to see. A king-sized bed sat in a corner, while a mirror-less dresser was centered against one wall, no pictures or the usual bric-a-brac to give away the occupant’s personality. Then again maybe it did. Rather stark for a man who owned enough properties and businesses to keep his organization in the best covert weapons money could buy. He didn’t care what Jack thought about his bedroom. Except for a few hours of sleep and a shower and shave, Ryker rarely spent time in the room.
“What do you want?” he asked, glaring at his second in command.
With cold blue eyes, Jack studied him and then his gaze shifted away.
Ryker grunted. Not many people could deal with looking at the thick scars down the side of his body, but it was his blind eye that bothered most. White from the scar tissue damaged in a fire so many years ago, he normally hid it beneath a patch. But he’d be damned before he slept with one on. So if Jack decided to make a habit of waking him in the morning, he could fucking well get use to the sight. Considering the man had four visible piercings and who knew how many hidden, along with tattoos covering one arm, he shouldn’t have a problem with his scars. The man understood pain.
With sure, quick movements, he thrust his legs into jeans and yanked on a black T-shirt. After tugging on his boots, he strapped a small pistol at his ankle. With his patch in place, using his fingers, he combed hair over the strap securing its position. Hell, he needed a haircut again. Maybe he’d shave his head like Jack. A simple enough solution. If only the rest of his problems could be so easily solved.
“She’s in trouble,” Jack said in an even tone as if his voice could defuse a bad situation.
Ryker’s stomach and chest tightened as if he’d been hit. He knew who Jack referred to without adding a name. She happened to be part of why his life was so complicated.
“Did you hear me?” Jack straightened his stance.
“Yeah.” Desire to break someone’s neck raced through his body. “Where is she? What happened?”
With a sharp snap, he inserted a snub-nose into the shoulder holster hanging at his side and jerked on his leather jacket. He gritted his teeth for a few seconds to regain his composure. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and exhaled.
“Last time Bryan heard from her, she’d entered the target’s house in Chattanooga and was downloading information off a laptop. He lost communication with her.” Jack quickly stepped out of the way for Ryker to move into the dark hallway. “They believe she’s still in the house. If the Wizard sticks to his M.O., we’ll have about three hours before he takes her away or kills her.”
Ryker wasted no time in reaching a massive room with mirrors from ceiling to floor. When the mansion was built in the 1800s, the room was used as a ballroom. It was empty now, except for a Steinway covered with a white sheet, and the high-sheen hardwood floor sounded hollow as he tramped across it. He only used the room for one purpose—to reach the stairwell hidden behind one of the mirrors.
“Took you long enough to spit it out.” Ryker glanced at his second in command.
Jack remained quiet, staring straight ahead. Ryker didn’t really expect an excuse. The man knew how he felt about that. No excuse for failure, especially when it came to protecting Marie.
Four months earlier, Ryker moved The Circle compound from the suburbs of Atlanta to an area near the Smoky Mountains. The mansion was situated in the middle of almost ten thousand acres, which included a large mountain filled with a network of tunnels and bunkers perfect to house the facility he needed. Last year, the final phase of the project was completed and now they were training new recruits in the underground Sector. The nearly fifteen square miles provided the privacy he needed. In a world filled with evil people, his covert organization of assassins came in handy.
Their footsteps echoed in the long, well-lit tunnel. A semi could pass through the passageway without scraping the side mirrors or the tips of muffler stacks.
“Who was her backup?” Ryker asked.
When a few seconds passed without an answer, Ryker stopped and faced Jack.
“They’re handling it.”
Ryker continued to stare.
His second in command sighed. “She went in without a backup.”
Jaw clenched, Ryker strode to the iris scan next to a large metal door. A buzz sounded and he slammed the door against the inner wall.
The gripping pain in his belly grew and reminded him of the fear he lived with for years before he took over control of The Circle. She could not keep doing this to him. He refused to allow anything more to happen to her. She knew this and still didn’t listen.
The noise level in the basketball court–sized room almost broke the sound barrier with printers running, people shouting or talking to those sitting next to them or to others on the Internet or satellite phones along with the clicking of keyboards. Each wall covered with large screens captured a different scene of people living their lives in various parts of the world. In the center of the room, faces bleached white by the monitors in front of them, the supervisors and handlers communicated with their operatives.
Ryker stopped in the middle of the bullpen, searching for his prey.
The balding, whipcord-thin Bryan Tilton stood over a handler shouting instructions and pointing at the screen. Maybe a sixth sense alerted Bryan. He looked up and his eyes widened.
Ryker charged toward him, ignoring the people ducking for cover behind partitions and beneath desks.
“You son of a bitch!”
His fist clipped Bryan on the chin, sending the man sliding across the floor. Desire to flatten the asshole’s pointy nose almost overrode all of Ryker’s control. Good thing Bryan remained sprawled out on the linoleum.