Captured in Croatia (2 page)

O
ur intel team has tapped into our target’s cellphone to find out where he’s headed for the evening. Our mark has good taste. Standing alone at the end of the blue glass bar of the über-chic Wet Works Club, I sip on a Grey Goose Vodka martini. Icona Pop’s hit song “I Love It” blares in the background and I can’t help but sway my hips to the techno beat.

Upon entering
Zagreb’s most exclusive dance club, I was momentarily stunned to see the hot Swedish duo actually performing live in the DJ booth. The club owners must have paid a fortune to get them here from Sweden. The two sexy songstresses are busy mixing their funky house music for the fortunate upper class to party to all night long.

The vast warehouse space is low-lit with a myriad of shadowed alcoves and corners that
would be the perfect spot for dark deeds. The central focus of the building is the huge dance floor, which is already heaving with beautifully dressed, glistening bodies. The chic lighting is constructed to give the effect of thousands of cut cubes of ice stacked into massive, hanging rectangles. All the seating, including the row of barstools lining the blue glass bar, is all white leather. The overall effect screams ‘haute sexiness.’

As I wait,
delicately perched on Christian Louboutin stilettos, I sweep my fingers slowly, sensually, through my waist-length, corn silk blonde hair. My goal is to attract Juric, to let him think that he’s luring me to him, when in fact the exact opposite will be true.

When I entered the packed
hotspot five minutes ago, I immediately spotted Juric sitting in one of the three roped-off, white-leather-backed VIP alcoves. An intimidating, huge security guard stands close by and two additional brawny men flank either side of his pristine, private sofa.

Now, standing o
nly twenty feet away from him, I’m impossible to miss. But to play coy, I allow my green eyes to float anywhere but toward him. Billionaire businessmen only obtain his impressive level of success by lusting after challenges, and tonight I’m poised as the ultimate one. Knowing my mark’s tastes, I’ve gone all out this evening.

I’m draped in a stunning Roberto Cavalli black halter dress that is free
of any adornment aside from a large, pleated, oval cut-out segment on the right side that starts at my ribs, just at the base of my breasts, and runs down to my hip. It’s unbelievably provocative, and I smile inwardly at the perks of my job. When this is over, they’ll let me keep the dress.

For the past eight years I’
ve studied cryptography at MIT. After earning my graduate degree in the complex but fascinating subject of coding and electronic security, I was fortunate enough to acquire an in-house position with the elite private intelligence agency, Wade Garnett, Inc.

On occasion we contract
out our skills to covert areas of the United States military, but the majority of our clients are civilians. The central focus of my job is to acquire classified data at the request of my employer, although this is not the only service our company provides for clients. The majority of our contracts focus on electronic security and encryption coding. With the hefty monetary backing from our prestigious clients, the possibilities of my job are nearly limitless.

I haven’t always been a field agent.
Two years ago, while riding close in a wired vehicle shadowing one of our top spies, I was forced to step in when his cover was about to be blown. Our guy was inside the home of a wealthy widow whose deceased husband had stored information that our client wanted. She was catching on to the fact that he had never met her husband, despite his claiming to be a past business contact, so I was forced to intervene by knocking on the front door just as the woman was about to call the police. Inventing a quick, off-the-cuff story about a missing dog I could swear I’d seen in her yard, I occupied the woman long enough for our agent to access her computer and got us both out by the skin of our teeth. After that event I pleaded with my boss to place me out in the field as an agent, because the thrill of each unique mission was exhilarating. He was hesitant at first, but I sold him on my decoding skills and the fact that young female spies are rare and therefore more effective. Once he found out that I’d studied Aikido since childhood, he felt less concerned about my ability to handle myself should a precarious situation arise. Eventually he came around, insisting that I train extensively for eight months before I could become active in the field. I was glad he changed his mind because I can be quite stubborn. I wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

This is
the fourth time I’ve been sent out on my own. Well, technically I’m not alone. Alan and Breck are in a van parked close by, hidden in a narrow side alley. They’re my eyes and ears as well as my extraction team should something go wrong. Agents are always supported by a well trained and highly specialized team. Breck and Alan are both former Navy Seals. They’re hardcore and don’t fuck around. If need be, they get physical first and ask questions later. Things tend to stay on track that way. Preparation is the key to a successful outcome, and we didn’t become the very best in our business because we leave things to chance.

I hear Breck
cut in, speaking though the teeny earpiece nestled inside my right ear canal. “Do you have a lock on him, Carew?”

I p
ick up my martini glass, turn away from my mark, and just before the rim of the glass touches my lips, I softly murmur, “Affirmative.” Lowering my drink, I purposefully relax my features, glance over at Vasilije Juric, and bat my eyes like a shy doe.

Juric
is quite possibly the most influential businessman in Croatia. He owns several factories throughout the country and most of them specialize in manufacturing computer components. He never fails to land a spot on the Forbes 500 list.

Five months ago my company was sought out by a
prominent California electronics designer who was given insider information. The designer became convinced that Juric had somehow hacked his system and stolen one of his latest designs. The design is a highly complex PC security system that makes any system virtually hack-proof. Compared to others currently on the market, this one is revolutionary. Its estimated worth is over one hundred million dollars. My job is to hack Juric’s PC to see if the latest masterpiece he’s about to roll out is indeed his own creation or our client’s unique design. The irony of hacking into a computer to steal a hack-proof system isn’t lost on me, but luckily for us we have his password. If it’s the latter, then my client is headed straight into a massive lawsuit. Textbook espionage, really. That is, so long as we don’t get caught.

I
let my body respond to the fabulous music and throw out a breezy smile each time the smoldering bartender passes by to check on my drink. A handsome guy in his mid-twenties leans in close and purrs in sexy, accented English, “Are you American?”

He must have heard me talking to the bartender.
I flick my eyes to his chocolate ones and respond, “I am.”

“Damn
, you’re gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink.”

I coo sweetly, “Oh
, that’s too kind, but I’m about to meet my date. Maybe some other time.”

He recovers quickly and grumbles something
unintelligible before moving on.
Good, that was perfect
. I want to play this right and lure in Vasilije Juric by letting him know that I’m looking for someone exceptional. I’m hoping that he’ll make his move soon so I don’t have to deflect advances all night. Eastern European men are by no means
shy
, I’ve come to find out.

Just as I complete that
thought, I feel heat radiating close against my back. Someone is standing directly behind me. As I turn around slowly, the first thing I see is a wall of muscle dressed in a suit. His chest is
that
expansive. The suit is a fine weave, tailored and black. Hugo Boss, maybe? A crisp, white dress shirt lies perfectly beneath a dark, platinum-colored tie that has miniscule black squares set within a grid-like pattern.

I tilt
my chin up higher and come face to face with my darkest fantasy framed within a stunning visage. It’s Juric’s main bodyguard. I couldn’t make out his features before. The distance and darkness made it difficult, and I was focused purely on my mark.

A full force body rush washes over me.
I have never seen a man like him before. If I were forced to describe him in one word, I’d choose “imposing” or maybe “dominant.” Those are the only terms that would do him justice.

Close cropped c
oal black hair frames a broad, masculine forehead. Slowly roaming his face, I quickly become lost in gunmetal gray eyes set beneath perfectly arched dark brows. His eyes are hypnotic and pale enough to seem out of place in contrast with his clean-shaven, olive-hued complexion. Any model on the planet would commit serious crimes in exchange for his chiseled bone structure and perfectly straight nose; yet his mouth is set in a taut, grim line. It’s so firmly closed, in fact, that I can’t make out the natural shape of his lips.

There’
s a cruel beauty about this powerful man, the likes of which I’ve never encountered before. His eyes are flinty, tight, and watchful as I drink him in. I would peg him to be in his mid-thirties, because he appears both hardened and worldly, like a soldier who has seen too many gruesome deaths firsthand.

Breathe in
, Carew. Calm, nice and easy
. A well-guarded part of me has privately yearned for an alpha male strong enough to take charge.
Why in the hell did he have to land in my vicinity in the middle of a job? And in Croatia, of all the places on earth!

Reco
vering quickly from his jarring, magnetic appeal, I hold his frosty stare and wait.

Nothing.

I decide to address him in English. “Was there something you needed?”

Against my will
, I feel my heart begin to thunder away in my chest as those impenetrable eyes lock onto my lips. Thick seconds pass and my heart flutters like a hummingbird.

Oh God, this man is sex in a suit
.

His
expression is more animal than human. Wild and fearsome. The scientific portion of my brain is holding everything tightly in check, but my body is reacting according to its own agenda: nipples hardening, Tanga panties dampening. I can’t hide the fact that I want him intensely, more so than any other man I’ve ever encountered before.

Keep it together
, Carew …
.

Stern
, smoky eyes lock onto mine with penetrating intensity, as if daring me to look away.

A
low, rich rumble cuts straight through the thumping beats of the music as he finally addresses me. “Mr. Juric would like you to join him.”

That voice
… so fluid and strong.

His accent is very thick
and all of his R’s flow like a river. However, his English is well-spoken and articulate.

I clear my t
hroat and try to act casual while feeling anything but. The smooth glass of the bar presses against my back, and he’s so close that he nearly brushes up against me.
Is that amazing, masculine scent coming from him?
He smells like amber, warm spice, and perhaps a little vanilla. It’s not a cologne I know. I would remember.

I suddenly feel
out of sorts but manage to reply, “Oh, well, tell him thank you. However, I’m just lovely right here.”

Alert
eyes watch me carefully as he states, “You need to rethink your answer.”

The nerve!
I’m going to play supremely hard to get now. My goal is to be invited back to his boss’ mansion so I can get my hot little fingers on his computer, which we know he keeps in the study just off his master bedroom. Juric is going to have to beg before he has my company tonight. If I make it too easy, chances are he won’t try to get me back to his place. Our intel tells us that Juric likes a challenge in everything he does, and I’m more than capable of giving him one.

I tilt my head to the side and give
Mr. Imposing a smile that intentionally doesn’t make it to my eyes. “I’ve thought about it, and I believe that I told you that I’m just fine right here.”

I flinch inwardly as his wide
shoulders lock in place and those already stormy eyes turn severe. He pins me with a dangerous scowl before turning away to stalk back toward Juric. The people in his path wisely choose self-preservation and get the hell out of his way, lest he run them the fuck over.

He
bends down to tell Juric the blow-off news. Just as Juric leans to look around Mr. Imposing, I casually redirect my attention toward the action-packed dance floor.

C
ome on, Juric, like a tiger to a juicy steak, let’s see what you throw out for me next ….

Just as I take
the final sip of my martini, a sexy voice behind me asks in Croatian, “
Hocete plesati
?”
Want to dance?

Turning around
, I take in the handsome Croatian boy. He’s maybe twenty or twenty-one, who knows, but he’s built like a soccer player. He is smartly dressed in a fitted, dark blue Lacoste polo and sleek, charcoal-colored dress pants.
Perfect.