Hot as Hell (2 page)

and cooperation across international boundaries. Unlike Dawn, he hadn’t had any law enforcement

training prior to coming to Interpol. He’d studied art history; her studies had been in criminal justice

and international politics. Plus, Dawn had two years at Scotland Yard working on drug trafficking cases.

The only “experience” Ron had in the area of illegal drugs was in how to find the ones he used

personally.

Even worse, Ron pictured himself as God’s gift to women—and had decided she’d be his next

conquest, mostly because as the daughter of an earl she had the social connections he desired. His

pursuit had begun benignly, then had progressed to irritating and just short of stalker-ish.

Ron could pursue and aspire all he wanted. The only way they’d become a couple would be

when a zombie was elected Prime Minister of England.

Dawn snorted softly in disgust. Did the bloody idiot think insulting her on-the-ground decisions

during this last op would win her over? Well, his behavior simply proved he was a complete cockwomble.

The Belizean Defense Force liaison wasn’t too happy with Ron either since Ron continued to

treat the Belizean officer like an indentured servant of the British Empire. Guess Ron hadn’t gotten the

message the Empire was dead and Belize had been independent for years.

The sound of her name drew her attention.

“…and if Dawn had done her job, we’d have the evidence we need to demand the Brazilians

turn over Oraio.” Ron glared at her.

Fuck, he’s still on that kick?

“But since she didn’t,” Ron blithely continued, all smug and self-righteous, “we now need to

seek cooperation from the bleedin’ Yanks—”

“Bloody hell, Ron”—Dawn cut into his harangue—“don’t you even read your e-mails?”

Several of her fellow team members smiled at her question. Clearly, they’d read the e-mails

headquarters had sent earlier that morning.

Ron frowned. “What do you mean? Of course, I do—um, did.”

Clueless and a buffoon—and a liar, even to himself.

“Then you must have skipped the bolded paragraph with the link to the summary of the

information Security Specialist International’s operative Stuart Walsh gleaned from Oraio’s closed

computer network. That intelligence plus a detailed preliminary analysis prepared by SSI’s Keely Walsh-

Maddox for the U.S. intelligence community were provided to Interpol.”

Ron’s frown turned into a glare. His cheeks flushed with anger or embarrassment or maybe a

bit of both.

As Ron opened his mouth to say something she was sure would be defensive as fuck and utterly

worthless, she saved herself and everyone else in the room from having to listen to anymore of his

inane remarks by cutting him off. “In addition to running a successful intelligence-gathering op in

cooperation with SSI—”

Through her sole efforts which he was now complaining about.

“—our team, working in cooperation with our Belizean team members—”

Again, with her coordinating with the Belizeans’ law enforcement liaison while Ron perseverated

over which agency would get credit for the bust.

“—also shut down a major drug operation. While doing so, we managed to keep the lid on the

fact that Oraio’s closed computer network was infiltrated. According to intelligence from our people

and the U.S.’s NSA, Oraio hasn’t a bleeding clue and is still conducting business as usual. We, that’s

us and the Yanks, know where he is. We simply need to keep an eye on Oraio until the legal types go

through the volumes of information collected to see if there is enough information to indict him in any of Interpol’s member countries. It’s all a matter of time … and patience.”

She added mentally—
You’d know this, you odious waste of space, if you had half a functioning

brain cell.

Ron turned toward her, his hands fisted at his side. She imagined she could see steam coming

out of his ears. “I have had enough of your disrespect of my authority.”

Good, maybe now he’ll leave me alone and find some other earl’s daughter to harass.

Dawn barely reined in the urge to take the arsehole out at his knees. “I’d respect your authority,”

she enunciated, “if you weren’t such a fucknugget.”

Several of her teammates smothered their snickers and the BDF liaison coughed to disguise his

laughter.Ron’s whole face was red now, like a two-year-old’s throwing a temper tantrum. “Go back to

our hotel, milady”—he spat out the honorific as if it were a curse word—“and think about your future

with Interpol. If I have anything to say about it, it will be a short one.”

What a bloody arse.

Ice-cold rage settled over her. She bet if she blew out a breath, it would be a frosty cloud. She

fucking hated petty bureaucrats like Ron who thought their position made them gods. She’d been

seriously thinking about quitting Interpol ever since the big bosses had appointed Ron as head of the

team for this mission. She despised playing kiss arse to get ahead—and refused to do it. Ron did it all

too well. Bleeding bureaucratic crap.

Her thoughts about leaving had become even more attractive after the message she’d received

two days ago from SSI’s Ren Maddox. He’d thanked her for aiding SSI’s operatives and issued a very

gracious and tempting offer to come work for his private international security organization.

Since receiving his offer, she’d done some research on SSI. She’d also spoken to SSI operative

Vanko Petriv whom she’d known casually when he’d worked for Interpol. She liked what she’d read—

and heard—and made the decision to accept the SSI job offer
after
she’d finished her current Interpol

assignment which was to take down Oraio-Lazaro’s criminal organization.

In fact, just that morning, she’d spoken with her Division Head at Interpol, advising him of her

decision and why she’d made it.

Ron’s bully-boy pronouncements had merely advanced her timetable.

Dawn gave Ron an evil smile. “Fuck off, Ron. I quit.”

She stood and turned to walk out, then paused and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and I’ve

already filed my report on what happened at the resort, including your refusal to send backup when I

and others were in danger from Oraio’s men. A copy was in your e-mail box right alongside the e-mail

about the SSI intelligence sharing.”

The glee on her fellow agents’ faces was almost as obvious as the sick expression on Ron’s

horsey face.

Her smile grew wider as she added, “Also, our superior received compliments about
my
actions

from the CIA’s National Clandestine Service, the DIA, NSA, and SSI. So, I’m not sure your tenure at

Interpol will be much longer than mine…you fucking arsebadger.”

On those less than lady-like words, she stalked out of the room and found her way outside into

the sunny square that fronted the Belize Defense Force headquarters. For the most part, she felt good,

elated that the whole mess with Ron was behind her. Though there was a slight sense of sadness at

leaving her Interpol team. Until Ron had come along, she’d really enjoyed her job and her teammates.

After putting on her sunglasses against the bright sunshine reflecting off the square, she pulled

her cell phone from her huge tote bag and hit a saved number.

The call was answered by a deeply growled, “Maddox.”

Maddox’s grumbling tones reminded her of the tall, shaggy-haired, grey-eyed Sam Crocker.

Something deep in her core gave a little shimmy. While Crock-of-shit had rubbed her the wrong way,

he possessed the kind of yummy voice a woman liked to hear in bed. He also had a very excellent arse

and wide shoulders. Large hands. Kissable lips. Abs that could shred—

Stop it.

Okay, so the man was extremely attractive. He’d also been bossy and overprotective and—

A real man… unlike Ron effin’ Lloyd
.

Yeah, there was that. Dammit.

“Talk to me or I’ll fucking hang up,” Maddox said.

Get your head in the game, Dawn. You can fantasize about Crocker’s manliness quotient later.

“It’s Dawn Wilson, Ren. If your offer of employment is still open, I’d like to accept.”

“It is. Welcome aboard.”

And there was the difference in working for a private organization—no political haggling. No

brown-nosing. No messing around. You’re qualified; you’re in.

Petriv had told her working for SSI was a dream job for good former intelligence and law

enforcement types. Maddox was a straight-shooter. He demanded a lot from his agents on and off the

field, gave them a wide spectrum of autonomy in the field, and backed up their decision-making.

Dawn was happy to know she’d met Maddox’s high standards and would do her best not to let

her new employer ever regret hiring her. Plus she’d earn twice what she made at Interpol. The greater

autonomy in the field had attracted her far more than the money.

“You still in Belize?” Maddox asked.

“Yes.”

“I have a job for you. I’ll arrange a chartered jet to take you to Cartagena. I’m on my way there

now. You’ll arrive first, so hang around the charter terminal until I get there.”

Ignoring the stares and smiles of those passing by her, Dawn grinned and did a little happy

dance. No rest for the wicked. Good, she liked to be busy, and the assignment would keep her mind

from wandering and thinking about the bossy, sexy, sarcastic, all-too-attractive-on-all-levels-for-his-

own-good-and-so-bad-for-her former U.S. Marine. If Ren hadn’t offered her an immediate op, she just

might have tracked down Crocker and discovered exactly how dominant he was—in bed.

She’d had a long sexual dry spell, and she was thirsty.

“What’s the job?” Dawn dragged her mind away from images of her in bed with Crocker. She

blamed the sudden intense wave of heat that swept over her on the Belizean weather.

“Did you see Keely’s analysis we sent to Interpol?”

“Yes, but I didn’t get to read it yet,” she said.

“Read it,” Ren said. “We’re going after the man you know as Sergio Manuel Lazaro or Oraio. We

need to get DNA or other conclusive evidence to prove Lazaro-Oraio is Syd MacLean, U.S. traitor, so the

United States can extradite him from Brazil.”

A Brazilian criminal mastermind was also a U.S. traitor? Intriguing. Sounded as if there would

be an interesting story at the bottom of it all. The darker and more twisted the cases, the better she

liked them.

“I’d love to take that fucker down whatever his name is.” Especially since she was bloody sure

SSI would get the job done far ahead of Interpol. She had a moment of regret for her former teammates

who were good agents—well, with the exception of Ron. But in the long run, everyone—or at least

everyone but Ron—was fighting on the same side and only wanted to put Oraio, or whoever in the hell

he was, away.

“See you in Cartagena,” she said.

“Try to rest on the flight, Dawn. You’ll only be in Cartagena long enough to shop for the right

clothes for the op, to be briefed, and to meet your team. See you soon. Out.” Ren disconnected.

Right clothes for the op? Hmmm. Could the SSI boss possibly want her to use the eons-old,

but highly successful, sexual approach on the operation? Wouldn’t be the first time she’d used her

feminine attributes for the greater good; probably wouldn’t be the last. She wasn’t averse to using her

sexuality. She’d found that bad men thought with their cocks just as often as good men did.

“Dawn!”

Her arm was grabbed and she was pulled around to face an angry Ron.

“Let go of me.” Furious she was caught off guard, she pulled against his hold, but the arsehole

merely tightened his grip, tight enough that she’d have bruises.

“No.” He dragged her along the sidewalk in the direction of the hotel the Interpol team had

used. “We’re going to sit down and discuss our future.”

“Our future? You nutter, there is no
we
or
our future
.” Dawn dug in her heels, slowing him

down. Ron stopped and shook her. “Come along or I’ll throw you over my shoulder. I’ve had enough

of you ignoring me, ignoring our relationship.”

The man was a stark raving looby.

“Relationship?” she snarled. “There’s no relationship, you arse. I can
not
stand you. I would

sooner date the devil himself than you.”

Ron’s breaths were rapid and harsh as he pulled her toward him. She couldn’t get to her gun

in her tote bag since he held her dominant arm. With bared teeth, he muttered, “Listen, you bloody,

over-privileged bitch…”

Dawn had had enough. She didn’t care that a crowd had gathered to watch them. She kneed

him in the balls, putting every ounce of force and every bit of training behind the move.

Pain suffused Ron’s face as he released her arm and fell to his knees, heaving and gasping as he

tried to catch his breath. To make sure she had enough time to get well away from him, she followed

up with a knee to his chin, now within easy reach.

“Way to go, dearie,” a little white-haired woman shouted. “Bastard deserved it. My hubby

went to get a cop. We saw the man assault you.”

With Ron on the ground, now rolling and moaning, Dawn made the decision to go straight

to the airport and avoid the hotel altogether. She hadn’t left anything important in her room, just a

change of clothes and some toiletries—all of which were expendable. She had her passport and other

I.D., her weapon, and her computer tablet and phone in her tote bag. Plus, Ren had said she’d be