“You get what I’m saying, right?” Stark continues. “No secret missions. No hidden vendettas. We expect it. I expect it.”
I nod, but I already know I’ll break those rules if I have to. If it’s something personal—like to protect Eliza or myself from a ghost from our past—I’m not pulling the SSA into my shit. Fortunately, now that Cane’s dead, the last ties to the nightmare of our childhood have been severed. Now, I’m all about the job someone pays me for. And if the Stark Security Agency is footing the bill, then I’m an open book.
“I get it,” I say.
“Good. Other than that, we have only one firm policy.”
“And that is?”
“Do a damn good job.”
“I always do.”
He smiles, and I see the man who has so often charmed the world. “That’s why we hired you.”
“Is this about my first official SSA job? Are you partnering me with Sanchez?”
He glances over my shoulder at the man. “No. And yes.”
I say nothing, just wait for him to explain.
“He’s not with the SSA. But I do owe him a favor. He has a meeting scheduled with an informant on the Debauchery Resort. But he can’t get in—”
“—without a woman.” I nod, trying to mask my annoyance—not to mention the fears that I jumped too quickly to join this team. I thought they wanted me for my skills. Instead, I’m accompanying someone who isn’t even with the SSA on a trip so that I can be arm candy?
“Is that a problem?”
“Actually, it is.” I cross my arms and shift my stance. “I thought you hired me because I’m all kinds of good at my job. But instead you’re pawning me off on some civilian who needs an escort?”
“First of all, I’m not pawning you off. And second, I’m very aware of your skill set. You demonstrated some of those skills last night, very skillfully utilizing a litany of equipment you had Quince pull from SSA inventory.”
“So this is a hand slap. You’re upset I didn’t get permission and so now I’m being punished and shoved into a bikini? Come on, Stark I got enough of that kind of petty game-playing working for the government.”
“Emma, that’s not what this is.”
“I know exactly what this is.” Who am I fooling thinking I can join this big family that Stark’s spouting off about? I can’t. I know it. And I should have known better than to even try.
“This is a mistake,” I continue. “And you know what, Stark? If you owe him the favor, then you put on the fucking bikini. I’m out.”
The words are out before I can call them back, but maybe it’s for the best. And so with that total career bomb still echoing across the court, I turn on my heel, shoot Antonio Sanchez a half-angry, half-apologetic look, and march straight off the tennis court toward my car.
Chapter Four
Tony tried to keep a straight face as he crossed the court toward Stark, but it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t sure if he was amused, turned on, or just impressed as hell. But he knew one thing for certain—Emma Tucker had some serious cojones.
“I’ll talk to Ryan about recalling Leah. She doesn’t have as much field work under her belt, but she’s smart and trained and—”
Tony held up a hand. “I want Emma.”
Damien raised a brow, and Tony looked into those oddly hypnotic dual-colored eyes. “As you just saw, I can hardly force her. For that matter, I’m not certain I still employ her.”
“She’s ballsy. She can hold her own. And I don’t have a clue what I’m really walking into. Could be an easy meet and an exchange of info. Or I might end up with a gun aimed at my head.” He crossed his arms as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Damien nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I told you in Paris that I owe you one, and I meant it. But I can’t compel her. And I won’t try. That’s not the way I work.”
“I get it. I wouldn’t want you to. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve satisfied the obligation.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I am,” Tony said. “I walked into this party and told you I needed a woman. You found me the perfect partner for this job in under an hour. You did your part,” he added with a shrug.
“I’m happy to find you another partner for the job,” Stark said. “Where you’re concerned, I’m inclined to go over and above. I want you on the team.”
“Then you know how I feel about Emma. I want her, Stark. And I’m going to get her.”
Tony pulled his hybrid Land Rover into the narrow driveway of Emma’s Venice Beach house, thankful that Quince had vouched for him with her sister.
“You’re not going to get anywhere with her,” Eliza had told him. “Emma’s stubborn, and she makes her own rules. She always has. And it sounds like she’s made up her mind.” Her mouth twitched. “Once she’s dug in, there’s no digging her out. But if you want to waste your time, be my guest,” she’d added, then rattled off the address.
Now Tony was here, and he sat for a moment with the SUV in park, mournful blues filling the car from the ridiculously awesome sound system he’d installed a month after he bought the thing. He intended to take a moment to hone his plan to convince her.
He never got the chance. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rapping at his window, and there she stood. The plain silver band she wore on her right hand clacked against the glass, and he looked into her stern expression, her hazel eyes dull and expressionless.
Stark had told him she was a pro, and one look at her face proved it.
He hadn’t yet killed the engine, so he hit the button to roll down the window. “Problem?”
“What the hell are you doing in my driveway? Did Stark actually give you my address?”
“I asked, but he refused. I got it from Eliza,” he added, since that was a nice, subtle way to suggest that her sister was on his side.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
He expected her to say more. To tell him to get off the property. Or that he should explain why he was there. Something.
But all she did was turn around and walk back into the house.
For a moment he simply sat there, looking at the spot where she’d been. Then he realized that he was smiling. This woman was turning out to be a hell of a lot of trouble. But he also had a feeling that she was worth it.
He killed the engine, got out of the vehicle, and followed the path to blue door of her charming little bungalow.
She opened it before he reached the patio. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“You wouldn’t want to work with me if I did.”
Her voice held no irony as she said, “I don’t want to work with you now.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You do.”
He waited for her to slam the door in his face. Instead, she opened it wider. “Convince me,” she said, and invited him in.
He stepped into the tiled entry hall, then followed her into the spacious living room filled with both light and comfortable-looking furniture. The walls were wood and stone, and were covered in colorful paintings and framed photographs. A bookcase took up one wall, and he stifled the urge to study the spines, just to see what Emma Tucker read. He didn’t, but only because she was already in the next room, and he hurried to catch up to her in the kitchen.