Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (6 page)

She made it around the room and her gaze shifted toward Dragan for a brief moment, then returned to surveying the rest of the room. But that one flicker of notice was enough to jack Logan’s spidey sense into high gear.

Tall, blond, and moved like she’d had serious physical training.

Could this be the Banker’s contact?

Calculating her physical appearance, the time factor, and the way she watched the room as she navigated her way around, Logan would bet his left nut that she was the one.

Another man detained her. She leaned in, listened, considered and gave him some answer that managed to leave him smiling in spite of her walking away.

Her gaze had been hidden inside the slits of her gold domino mask until she turned toward the aquarium and the fish cleared. Those intense purple eyes peered through an opening between rocks and fish to meet his. He didn’t so much as twitch beneath her perusal, but keeping one body part in particular under control was a test.

Think ugly old hookers
.

He had a rule against hookers, no matter how hot. He’d never been that desperate.

But this was a mission and he needed the Banker.

~*~

Dragan and his attack bodyguard were here.

Margaux hid her flash of relief that Snake Eyes hadn’t screwed her so far. As she walked the room, keeping the aquarium between her and the bar, she gave polite smiles, trying to ignore the men as they ogled her the way cowboys admired prime beef. She took her time weaving through the group of hardtails, who hallucinated her into their current sexual fantasies, and the array of stunning women who paid her no mind.

If Dragan was here, that
should
mean whoever the Banker was sending to make contact had not arrived yet. That’s how it would work in a perfect world.

Lately, in her world it could mean the Banker’s person had already made contact and Dragan would just walk out once he tired of the female attention.

Margaux might have already gambled everything on tonight, but something told her she wasn’t through placing bets.

Women with invisible price tags surrounded Dragan.

Every masked woman in this place had one.

Including Margaux. But only for tonight.

Choosing to play a role was far different than actually being used that way. She’d never let someone hurt her physically again.

Never let herself get in the position where someone she loved could trade her for—

Stop it
. Unproductive thinking was dangerous on a mission.

She kept moving, taking her time getting around the room, building interest. At least she
hoped
Dragan was noticing since he was turned this way with his back to the bar.

Dragan Stoli had no reason for a place like this.

Most of the men were of the same cut as the gray-haired fiftyish guy she’d just passed who had a paunch, manicured nails, and sported a diamond-encrusted watch.

Gray-hair gave her a lifted-eyebrow invitation.

She tilted her head and returned his leer with a taunting smile, but turned away. A discreet no.

Better than the
eww
screaming in her mind.

How long could she avoid getting cornered by one of the men without someone on staff noticing?

This would have been a hell of a lot easier with backup. Even a weapon would be nice, but her razor-thin dress wouldn’t hide a freckle and security had scanned her, head to toe. And taken her coat.

But they’d cleared her purse and shoes.

Keeping watch on Dragan with sly glances, Margaux made the turn around the far end of the room and proceeded toward the bar behind him.

She’d caught sight of her watch—12:32—when she lifted her hand to wave over the male bartender, who wore an expression that was a combination of interest and distance. His six-figure income depended on maintaining selective memory and not engaging with any of the female guests.

She ordered a martini.

If
Dragan hadn’t been contacted yet, she had time to get the tracking device in place.

But he was still smothered in women.

Margaux lifted the martini she had no intention of drinking and let her gaze travel to the back of the bar where layers of mirror had been cut in an abstract pattern.

She had a clear image of Dragan.

A couple inches under six feet, he had brown hair cut I’m-a-hot-guy short, but the muscles in his neck hinted at a solid body beneath the black Louis Vuitton suit jacket. The identifying scar slashed from his left ear to his collarbone just as Snake Eyes had said. Dragan had an attractive, but otherwise uninteresting face. much like all the others shopping for an expensive party girl for the night.

On the other hand, Dragan’s bodyguard was anything but uninteresting.

He stood off to her right, with Secret-Service-looking eyewear and a coal-black designer suit that had to be custom-tailored to fit shoulders as wide as his.

That was one big man.

Just her flavor, if she had any interest in a taste.

Surprisingly, he still managed to blend into the shadows, motionless as a tiger waiting for his dinner to stroll by. Power rolled off him in silent waves. She couldn’t tell much about his face with that thick, but neat, black beard and his eyes hidden.

Handsome was too simple a word to describe him, too civilized. Like admiring a wolf for its lush coat or a shark for its grace in the water, a woman would find this man attractive in a deadly way.

A woman who enjoyed playing with fire or dancing with lightning.

A woman who was a fool.

Good thing he was
not
the one she needed to engage in pre-mating rituals. Nothing about that man invited sexual banter, which she found even more appealing. No, he was not one to play with and that presented a problem.

Right now she had to get to Dragan and the bodyguard was her only route.

The bartender drew her attention when he paused near her, but turned away. His fingers went to the wired receiver in his ear. He spoke softly into the mic attached to his collar. “Give me a minute to check the masks for tonight so I can identify Violet. Tell Mr. Santiago I’ll send her up as soon as I locate her.”

Shit
.

Margaux raised her martini and moved away from the bar toward the dark alcove where the bodyguard stood. When she reached him, she waited for the bodyguard to acknowledge her, but he didn’t drop his chin or angle his head. Nothing to indicate what was going on behind those dark glasses.

She felt the seconds screaming in her ear with each pulse of her heart. This was it. She forced calm and confidence into her voice. “Tell Mr. D that Violet is interested in speaking to him alone. He has one minute or I’ll move on.”

Dragan’s bodyguard just stood there.

Who did he think he was? The Queen’s guard at Buckingham Palace? Now what?

She leaned in and whispered, “If you think I’m offering twice, you’re wrong. I’m here for one reason and talking to you isn’t it. You’re wasting seconds that I don’t think Mr. D will be pleased about if he misses this one-time opportunity.”

Her gaze traveled to a mirrored wall that picked up the bartender’s profile as he leaned down to study a laptop computer screen. He lifted his head to look around. His gaze stalled when he turned her way.

She
was the one running out of seconds and ideas.

CHAPTER 6

The best Nick could figure, Margaux must have mentally snapped to openly defy Sabrina. He’d have thought she had more natural survival instinct.

Nick let his gaze drift over to Tanner, his partner in this fiasco, who had his arm propped on the door of the rental they’d picked up at San Francisco airport.

“We just missed her and she was tough to recognize,” Tanner said to the cell phone he had on speaker.

Nick smiled. He’d been the one to point Margaux out to Tanner, who hadn’t recognized her in a wig and a fourteen-carat dress that stopped just short of showing off her goods. Once Tanner sucked his tongue back into his head, he’d called Sabrina to report in.

Sabrina muttered a curse. “Was Margaux alone?”

“For now.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He looked at his phone like the thing might jump up and bite his head off any minute, which was possible with Sabrina on the other end. He gave Nick a look that suggested it was his turn to take some shit.

Nick sighed. “Margaux was decked out in a gold designer dress that just covered her ass and fuck-me heels to match, long blond wig, and a shawl that stopped at her waist. She walked into the Trigon Millenia Hotel like a woman ready to do business.”

“Margaux would rather have her spleen taken out without anesthesia than wear a dress, much less heels. She’s going after somebody
.”
   Sabrina had been up for two days straight and it was starting to come through in her voice. “Nothing on the street here about any significant action going down in San Fran tonight. Haven’t heard back from our people on the west coast. You got any idea what might have set her off, Nick?”

“Not really, but I’m not surprised. She just wants to nail the bastard.”

“Don’t even try to justify her actions to me. Dingo, Josh, Tanner and I want to nail the CIA spook who sold us out in the UK two years ago, too, but I won’t tolerate those three going rogue any more than you, Ryder, or anyone else.”

“What are you going to do about Margaux when we catch her?”  If Nick could find out what Margaux faced, maybe he could talk her off the ledge if the opportunity arose. He didn’t recommend what Margaux was doing, but he knew how demons drove a person and probably understood her better than the rest of the team did.

His own demons rode his shoulders every day.

“Tell you what, Nick. Get your hands on her and I’ll answer that.”

Nick got the “don’t push me right now message” in Sabrina’s reply.
I tried, Margaux.

Sabrina added,
“Do not let her walk past you two again.”

Tanner’s face warped with a scowl. “If the tail you put on her at the airport
here
hadn’t lost her, we’d have her in hand by now.”

A pause on the other end must have been Sabrina counting to hold her temper. Her voice gained a sharper edge. “If they were half as good as White Hawk or any of you that wouldn’t have happened, but I was stuck with using a contractor. Margaux must have found out something right after I left the apartment, because given more time to plan, I doubt even White Hawk could have tailed her as far as she did.”

Nick couldn’t argue with that.

Margaux probably thought she’d made it out of Atlanta without anyone finding out, but Sabrina had instructed the surveillance teams to sit tight if they realized Margaux was leaving her apartment. White Hawk had been positioned nearby with eyes on every inch of the apartment exterior. When Margaux was spotted exiting via the roof, her route was relayed to White Hawk who picked her up on the ground.

Then Margaux stopped by a high-security storage facility for ten minutes on her way to the airport. Nick knew that’s where she’d kept her go-bag with a new identity and cash. When the tail in San Francisco lost her, Sabrina tapped resources few people had at their fingertips and got a lead a half hour ago. About five minutes too late, or Nick could have intercepted Margaux before she entered that hotel.

Sabrina said, “Hold on. Josh is telling me something.”   Their muffled voices came through then she was back on the line. “We have intel from the coast. That hotel is owned by three men who run a secret club in the basement.”

“Can’t be very secret if some snitch knew about it,” Tanner interjected.

Josh’s voice came through next. “Wasn’t a snitch, but people I’ve rubbed elbows with when I’ve had a job in that area. Once I found out who owned the hotel, I made a couple of calls to men I wouldn’t turn my back on, but if anyone knew about high-roller action, they would. This private nightclub is invitation only.”

Nick lifted an eyebrow at that. He’d picked up a little here and there about some of the team members. As a kid, Josh had run the streets of New York with Sabrina and Dingo, but a wealthy couple had adopted him. Insanely wealthy.

On occasion, Sabrina sent Josh to use his GQ looks and social status to ferret information from those with blue blood or celebrity ranking.

Nick asked Josh, “Did
you
get an invitation for tonight?”

“No. The place is called the Trophy Room. Very tight security. They schedule the women every day and change security cards just as often. Clients are booked in advance no closer than forty-eight hours out. Getting inside that club tonight isn’t going to happen.”

Tanner tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “So we wait for her to come out?”

Nick shook his head. “Someone has to at least try to get in.”

Josh argued, “You aren’t going to make it into the Trophy Room. There’s only two ways in and out. Heavily guarded. We make a wrong move and it could get her killed. Until someone comes up with more than we have right now, waiting is the safest thing to do for Margaux.”

For now. Nick had never known Margaux’s background. She was a solid agent, but tight-lipped when it came to talking about anything but the present and the future. He had a feeling that whatever she hid was going to be her downfall when they grabbed her.

Tanner sat up, stretching his neck. “At least we
found
Margaux. That was more than any of us would have thought possible with her skills. So it’s not that bad.”

Yet
, Nick added silently.

Sabrina was back on the phone. “The DEA agent is awake and screaming for her head. Margaux’s in a heavily guarded location with no backup where the women are party toys for men with no financial boundaries, and she’s chasing a man known for brokering the deadliest terrorist attacks in years. Think the Banker is going to just sit back and let her walk up to him? How much more
fucked up
does this have to get before it’s bad, Tanner?”

The cowboy blew out a breath, taking his time to answer and pouring on his Texas charm when he did. “Come on, Sabrina. I’m just sayin’ to give the woman some credit. This could be all about gaining intel. She might have walked into that hotel dressed like a high-dollar call girl, but the Duke isn’t going to let any man get the upper hand on her.”