She startled and stared at him.
“No, no. Don’t misunderstand. I’m pleased to see you home.”
Jesse shook her head.
“That’s not necessary, sir.”
“Oh, but it will be my pleasure.” Turning to Hughes, he added, “Can we drop you off, Stanley?”
The urbane man winked.
“But, of course. I have a car waiting. Let me do the honors so that you can focus on our lovely transcription specialist.”
Walker beamed.
“Excellent. Come, my dear. It’s late and we don’t want to waste another moment.”
Jesse frowned. “If you’re sure it won’t be a bother, that I’m not out of your way…. “
They settled into the luxurious limousine. When Jesse tried to sit in the single seat across from the roomy back bench seat, Walker rebuked her.
“No, no, Millie. This is where you and I will sit. If I understand my new friend as well as I think I do, Stanley will be quite content sitting across from us.” He added with a guffaw, “The show goes on, correct, friend?”
Stanley nodded and settled into the armchair with an unctuous smile.
As the limousine eased into traffic, Stanley took three glasses and a bottle of Glenlivet cognac from the well-stocked bar. He poured the odorous liquid into each of the glasses and passed one to Walker and one to Jesse.
“Here’s to a most successful transaction. I am impressed, Mason. You have to be pleased with the outcome of tonight’s auction.”
Mason downed his drink and held out his glass for a refill and laughed out loud.
“Bit of an understatement, wouldn’t you say?” Turning to Jesse, his eyes glinting, “And, the night is young.”
Stanley gave him a knowing wink.
“Ahh, Mason, I hope you don’t mind. I asked our driver to drop me off at my hotel first. I thought you might want to show Miss Roane the spectacular view of London from the balcony of your penthouse apartment.”
Mason’s face twisted in a salacious grin.
“Precisely what I had in mind, Stanley. Thank you for your foresight.”
Before Jesse could savor a decent sip of her drink, Mason took it from her and pulled her next to him. Subtlety clearly wasn’t in his game plan. Running his hand possessively over her leg, he landed on a space just below the lacy top and fingered the inside of her thigh. When she started and pulled back, he shook his head.
“No, no, my dear. Just relax. I cannot help but notice how beautiful you are. And your legs? My god, you could work in Las Vegas, be a showgirl with legs like these. Couldn’t she, Stanley?”
His friend was clearly enjoying the view. Pressing his lips together, his eyes dancing, he remarked casually, “You’re right, Mason. Those legs—especially in silk stockings—are stunning.”
As if on cue, Mason grunted, and raised Jesse’s skirt several inches. He slid his hand up the length of one stocking revealing the bare flesh at the top of the lace. His voice was strained with lust.
“You’re right Stanley, there is nothing like gorgeous legs clothed in silk to bring a man to his knees.” He barked an ugly laugh. “Or better yet, bring the woman to
her
knees.”
Stanley chuckled in agreement.
Jesse sat up straight and shoved at Mason’s hand.
“Please, sir. I… I shouldn’t let you do that.”
“No girl, you shouldn’t, but you
are
going to, aren’t you?”
Jesse moved back across the bench feeling her cheeks heat.
Mason seemed to relent for a brief second then lunged toward her capturing the space between them. Jesse tried to wriggle away but the lecherous man had a firm grip on her thigh. Apparently satiated with her legs for the moment he focused his leer on her breasts. His eyes gleamed and spittle hovered in the corner of his fleshy lips.
Running a finger along the top of her dress, Walker asked in mock innocence, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
Jesse frowned and shrugged. “I… I guess not…”
“Are you wearing a bra, my dear? You almost look as though you are not.”
He dragged his finger down across her breast and began stroking her erect nipple.
Jesse shoved at his hand and shook her head. Holding his hand firmly, her voice shook.
“I’m sorry, sir. I hope I didn’t embarrass you. The… the dress was so tight across my breasts. Could you see? I hoped that no one would notice that I took off my bra…”
Stanley’s quiet chuckle was lost when the driver’s voice came over the speaker.
“We’re here, sir. At your hotel.”
Stanley smiled at Mason.
“This is where I get out, Walker.”
He rapped on the window and the back door swung open.
“But then so do you.”
The shiny barrel of a .44 Magnum was visible in the doorway. An official voice spoke.
“Mason Walker, you are under arrest for the crime of illegal weapon’s procurement and treason. Please exit the vehicle with your hands over your head and face the limousine.”
Mason reared back, startled.
“There must be some mistake…”
Jesse returned his frantic gaze with an insouciant shrug. Nodding to the doorway flanked by a cadre of men in uniform, “It would be best for you to do as they say.”
Walker’s eyes widened in horror as if seeing her for the first time.
The barrel of the gun pressed against his temple spoke as clearly as the officer. “Now, Mr. Walker. Exit now.”
As they were reading the shrieking man his rights, one of the officers poked his head in through the doorway.
“I woulda thought he had a weapon.”
Jesse nodded. “He did, but I took it off him.” She slid a silver hand-tooled Sig across the upholstered seat to the officer. She gave the surprised man a soft smile. “I disarmed him.”
The officer shook his head and chortled.
“I’ll bet you did.” Staring unabashedly at her skin tight dress, silk stockings and stiletto heels, he grinned in appreciation. “I’ll just bet you did, Ma’am.”
Mason’s outraged cries were lost in the sounds of the men in SWAT uniforms dragging him to one of the nearby police vans. When the doorway to the limo cleared, a British-looking fellow in a trench coat rested his elbows on the top of the car and leaned in. His sandy hair was slicked over to cover his balding pate and his light blue eyes danced with pleasure.
He smiled at Jesse. “Good work, Major.”
Jesse smiled at him. “Thank you, Agent Michaels.”
Agent Michaels nodded to the man in the single seat, Mr. ‘Stanley Hughes.’
“I have to admit. You Yanks are first rate. Particularly the distaff side of your enterprise, Col. Caldwell.”
Agent Michaels re-focused his attention on Jesse and gave a soft whistle.
“Major, any time you want to leave that military force of yours, check in with me. That was superb work.”
Jesse smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
She removed her hair ornaments and earrings and handed one of each to the British agent. “You will be wanting, these, Sir. I’ll keep the others for the Yankee side of the team.”
She held out her hand, “It was an honor working with you.”
The Brit took her hand and brought it to his lips and bowed slightly.
“The honor was mine, Major.”
As if as an afterthought, he added, “You too, Colonel.”
Chapter 4
“Damn
,
Jesse. That was great! That pretentious prick, Michaels, is right. It was superb work.”
Jesse hid her grin. God, talk about the kettle….
The only pretentious prick on their team was sitting across from her gloating in their victory. It had been a challenge not groaning at her Colonel’s officious pronouncements throughout the night. She wondered if the terrorists were as impressed with Elliott Caldwell as he was with himself. If he’d said ‘Har-vaard’ one more time in that pompous tone of his, she might have gagged. But Mason had been impressed. Clearly he was glad to have a kindred spirit on his side. Apparently he had bought Elliott’s act as much as he had hers. Reluctantly Jesse acknowledged that at least Elliott hadn’t compromised the mission. Which wasn’t a sure thing. Elliott rarely went in the field. Rather he “led” his team from headquarters.
Determined not to let him spoil her pleasure at their victory, she agreed with his assessment with a heartfelt sigh.
“Yes, it was, Colonel. We brought down some very bad men and at least for awhile saved many lives.”
Elliott’s pale blue eyes were shining with excitement.
“What do you say, Jesse. How about coming up to my suite for a drink? The least we deserve is a celebratory belt of Scotch.”
Jesse hesitated. “Um… I don’t know, Colonel. It’s late…”
Elliott broke in.
“No, no. Major. I insist. And, enough formalities. For tonight, let’s skip the titles. Tonight it’s Jesse and Elliott.”
“Oh, okay… Elliott.”
Jesse was surprised, particularly at his request for first names. She and the rest of the team were on a first name basis when they weren’t using their code names. The Colonel’s code name was
Quick Snake
, which the team had promptly reworked to
Dick Snake
. Jesse stifled her grin and thought: What the hell. It wasn’t like a drink with her teammates, but after tonight’s escapade, a large glass of Scotch sounded damned good.
Elliott helped her from the limousine and spoke to the driver.
“You may stand down, Sergeant. I’ll see that the Major gets home safely.”
As they were riding in the elevator of the lavish Soho Hotel, Jesse frowned at her reflection in the bronzed panels. She still looked good, great even, but her dark wig was a challenge.
She turned to the Colonel.
“I think even more than that promised Scotch, I want to take off this wig. It’s killing me.”
Elliott quirked an eyebrow.
“You have my permission to take off any damn thing you want, Jesse.” Not acknowledging her surprise at his suggestive remark, Elliott marched on. “But you are right. As gorgeous as you were tonight, that dark hair is not nearly as beautiful as your trademark red mane.”
They arrived at his suite and Jesse stopped short, impressed at its opulence. Guess rank does have its privileges. She wondered if Caldwell used some of his family fortune to augment the digs they were assigned by the Army. Knowing the Colonel as well as she did, she doubted he’d coughed up any of his own money. No, he’d bill it to the Army as a mission necessity.
Once inside the bathroom that was as large as her entire hotel room, Jesse began having second thoughts. She wondered if it had been wise to come up to the Colonel’s suite. She wasn’t born yesterday. Colonel Caldwell’s reputation with women was epic. And, she couldn’t ignore some of the looks he’d given her tonight. It was one thing to put on an act and pretend to agree with his host. But damn, some of Caldwell’s smarmy looks had creeped her out.
Not being able to stand the annoying wig another second she yanked it off and breathed a sigh of relief. Shaking out her long red hair, she massaged her scalp until it felt like hers again. After she straightened her hair and it was hanging softly around her shoulders, she removed her contact lenses. Looking in the mirror, she was glad to see a reflection that actually looked like herself. Green eyes, red hair and a cocky smile. Yep, that summed her up. Not. No one knew how shy she was, how uneasy she felt in a group, or when her gut was crawling with fear. That ability to hide her fears, her unease, had stood her well in her profession. Jesse was an accomplished actor. And she was about to go back onstage. She’d decided that she would treat the Colonel as a teammate and as her commanding officer. She’d also ensure that—first names aside—she’d hold him to the same protocol.
The Colonel was standing next to the bar and didn’t hear her come in. She studied him for a moment wondering why he was so off-putting to her. He was good-looking, handsome even, in a patrician sort of way. He was tall and slim, with fine, not strong features. Jesse huffed a soft snort. An Ashley Wilkes look-alike. And she realized with a start, he looked a lot like her former husband, Garrett. She shuddered. Same pedigree as well. Moneyed families, Ivy League schools, and a thoroughly ensconced sense of entitlement.
Like all regular Army officers, Caldwell had a toned body, and Jesse knew most women considered him attractive. In contrast, her taste ran to tall, dark and handsome with a bad boy vibe for good measure. At least that’s the kind of guy she noticed. But given the scant number of men that had made it past her formidable personal barricades, she was no expert by a long shot.
The Colonel quaffed his drink and poured himself another. He turned with a start.
“I didn’t hear you, Jesse. Forgive me. I got a head start. I’m still pumped by our triumph.”
He raked his gaze over her stopping at critical places and shook his head with a rueful grin.
“It’s hard to believe that you could look even more gorgeous than you did earlier. That red hair of yours is a killer, Jesse.”
When she just nodded, he poured two glasses of Scotch.
“Here you go. Bottoms up. You need to catch up, Major.”
To her surprise, Elliott downed his entire drink and headed back to the bar and poured himself another. He motioned to her to come and sit beside him on the wall-length sofa. Jesse made a point of sitting in the corner a good four feet away from him. Without thinking she slipped off her shoes. Seeing his eyebrows arch, she hastened to explain.
“You men have no idea how hard it is to walk in these things.” She sighed. “But they are beautiful. I have to give that witch Ambrose credit. She does have excellent taste.”
When the Colonel leered at her as if she was a tasty morsel on a dessert plate, she began to babble nervously.
“But the clothes are lovely. It’s too bad I have to give them back. On every mission, it’s like Christmas in reverse. I get to wear clothes like this. Then my fairy godmother appears. Instead of making me more beautiful she waves her magic wand and repossesses the ball gown and glass slippers.”
When he continued to gaze at her, his eyes narrowing, Jesse changed the subject.
“The mission did go amazingly well, didn’t it, Sir?”
Her reference to their work seemed to shake him out of his lust-filled reverie.
“You deserve the credit, Jesse. I still don’t know how you figured out our host’s penchant for voyeurism. And to use that against him to get yourself into that meeting? Brilliant, Jesse.”