Deadly Beauty & the Billionaire

Mid-May 2013— Gansu, China.

Blood drips from the hunting knife in my right hand. I check the pulse of the man lying motionless on the floor— dead. Sick bastard deserved it.

A young girl’s body lays equally motionless on a mattress in the corner. I gently check for a pulse with a trembling hand, though I already know there isn’t one. She can’t be more than twelve, maybe thirteen. It’s as though someone clamps my lungs in a vice grip as memories flood my mind.

Standing in a luxury hotel room, blood dripping off a knife, my hands and face splattered in red . . . and Jax.

“Viper. Viper, come on! Stay with me, girl. We aren’t finished yet.”

“I’m here. This girl is gone, though.”

I push to my feet and wipe the sweat from my forehead. Rescuing sex slaves for the last ten years still tires me out on certain days. This is one of those days. Chinese auctions are brutal.

“You’ve got two guards in the next room, one buyer, and three slaves. Python is waiting outside the door.”

“Roger that.”

My bare, blood-covered feet tap loudly along the concrete floor, the slickness making it difficult to move quickly. Not far down the hall, a mammoth of a man with biceps as big as my head, who’s also cut like a Greek god, holds an AK47 with a grin on his face.

“Hey, cupcake. Took you long enough.”

“Girl in the last room died.”

“Oh.” His smile fades. “You can’t save ‘em all.” He tries for nonchalance but can’t mask the pain in his voice.

“I can try.”

He turns and kicks his boot into the door, directly next to the handle. I rush in and sink my knife into the neck of the closest guard. Blood flows into his throat and mouth, choking him. Screams from the girls in the back of the room erupt, bouncing off the walls.

Python fills the other guard’s body with bullets, and my vision blurs red as I stalk toward the bed in the back. A lanky, greasy, piece of shit climbs off a girl and turns, his hands in the air.

We don’t take prisoners.

As he pleads for his life, I move forward, but the words make my face hot with anger. He doesn’t care about the life of the girl he was raping. Closing the gap between us, I slam my knife into the hollow at the base of his throat. He gurgles and drops to his knees. As I pull the blade out, he slumps to the side, his head thudding against the concrete.

Without looking at the girls, I say, “There’s help waiting outside. Go.”

Two of them file out immediately. The third stands, shaking and walks to my side.

“Thank you,” she says, reaching out to touch my arm.

My body tenses as I step out of her reach. “You’re welcome. Get out of here, go get help.”

She nods, hangs her head a little, and leaves the chamber.

I heave a sigh of relief. “How many total, Boa?”

A smooth female voice resounds through my earpiece. “Today, we rescued thirty girls and thirteen boys, who are currently on their way to area hospitals. A job well done!”

The rest of our team hoots and hollers in appreciation of our success. Together, my teammate and I walk through the sinister hall, ignoring the bloodstains, and emerge into the coming night. The air is crisp and cold, causing goosebumps to rise over my arms and legs, and all I can think about is the one girl I couldn’t save.

“Lily,” a deep voice calls.

Jax hurries over and wraps a blanket around my shoulders. I hand him my knife and draw the cloth in close, giving myself a mental shake. A mischievous grin pulls at my lips. “So, what’s my count?”

He chuckles. “Thirteen kills today. You’ve done me proud.”

The roar of a helicopter engine calls to us. We jog over and climb in. I take one last glance at the police and Interpol agents handling the remainder of the auction below. I sigh, the rectangular brick building getting smaller as the helicopter rises. I lean my head back and close my eyes. Unable to stop the images from inside the auction playing through my mind— mold and watermarks running down the walls, old brown bloodstains mixing with bright red fresh ones.

Damn, I can’t wait to get home.

***

72 Hours Later— Washington, DC

I step out of Dr. Kinderson’s office with my psychiatric evaluation results in hand. Jax stands as I enter the waiting room, gaze glued to my face. I grin, waving the folder like a prize.

"You pass?" Jax raises one of his eyebrows.

"Of course. That bitch is annoying."

"She’s a good doctor." He leads me down the closest hallway.

"She pisses me off."

"Lily, everyone pisses you off." Jax stops in front of the elevator, pressing the up arrow as I fall in beside him. "She ask you about dating again?"

"Who gives a shit if I don't date?"

"Normal girls your age date. You know the information she’s going off of."

"I know . . . still fucking detestable, as far as questions and subjects go." I crack my neck and roll my eyes as the metal door in front of me opens.

Stepping into the elevator, my body tenses. My teeth grind together with the jarring movement of the metal box. After years of captivity, there’s nothing worse for me than being confined in small spaces with no way for a quick escape. The elevator dings, displaying the number six. The doors open, and I practically jump out.

I follow Jax to the last office on the left. Our team is spread throughout the room. He moves to speak with Hayato, our Communications Specialist, and I move to the glass wall encompassing the opposite side of the room. The clouds on the horizon drift fluidly over the blue sky— it’s breathtaking.

"How'd your session go with the shrink?" Dresden leans against the glass wall to my left.

"Same shit, different day."

He stands close to me but is careful not to actually touch me— he knows better. They all do. His lips quirk up in a'cat-who-got-the-canary'smile. He's so cocky it should be illegal. His wavy brown hair sits in disarray, laugh lines disrupting his five o'clock shadow, and green eyes shining with arrogance. The muscles in his shoulders strain his sleeveless shirt.

Why doesn't he own a normal shirt, for Christ's sake?

"Good morning, Agents," a low voice says, his words coated in a British accent.

Dresden and I turn simultaneously, the entire team mimicking our movements. We're a well-oiled machine after ten years together.

"Please be seated."

I take the seat closest to me as Dresden sits to my right. Another of my teammates, Rhett, sits down on my other side. His hair is cut short on the sides but just long enough on the top that it has a little curl to it. If it wasn’t for the dark, close-shaved beard and tattoos I know are hiding under his long-sleeved shirt, I’d say he could be part of a boy band. A small diamond stud glitters from his left ear, matching the megawatt smile he gives me. I return it, chuckling to myself.

Turning my attention to the front of the room, my chair jolts forward, pushing my stomach into the edge of the table. I growl, shoving against the polished wood. Dresden covers his mouth, chuckling, as Rhett shakes his head, his shoulders quaking with silent laughter. I lift my hands, as if to stretch, and slap both of them, hard, in the backs of the heads.

"Ouch! Dammit, woman!" Dresden chuckles.

I snicker as he and Rhett both rub their heads.

"Enough!" Jax's voice is a deep grumble, effectively wiping the smirks off all our faces. He points toward the top end of the table, and we all look in that direction, scolded once again.

"I've met most of you during your time with Interpol, but for those of you that don't know me, I'm Hyde Monroe— Head of International Affairs and Covert Operations." He sits stiffly in the head chair.

Affairs and Covert Operations . . . yeah right. Elitist douche.

I've met Monroe a few times over the years, but this is the first time he’s called the whole team in. We don't see eye-to-eye.

"Agent Unnami, I know your team usually operates in undercover missions, but there's an assignment Interpol believes this team is uniquely suited for."

"What do the powers that be want this time?" Dresden rolls his eyes.

Sarcastic ass.

"Lose the attitude, Agent Scholl," Hyde says.

Jax gives Dresden the death glare. I chuckle, catching Dres' eye. He smiles wickedly and winks. Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to Hyde.

"Two days ago, a Baltimore businessman received several threats from different trafficking cartels."

"You'd like us to track the cartels?” Jax sits forward.

"No, Agent. We need your team to act as his personal security."

"Excuse me?" I sit up straighter. "Do we look like security to you?"

"You look like eight Interpol employees to me, Agent Williams."

"You have specialized units for things like this. Use them."

"Save that attitude for someone else. This team has enough intelligence on human traffickers to keep this man alive. Blake Mason works very closely with Interpol's rescue units, and my boss believes his safety is of utmost importance."

"Tell your boss to fuck-off," Dresden snarls. "We don't babysit rich boys."

I gesture toward Dres in silent agreement.

"Dresden, Lily— enough." Jax's voice is low and full of authority.

I stare down at my hands.

Dresden forcefully taps his fingers on the tabletop.

"What are the details of the assignment, Monroe?" Jax leans back in his chair.

"You'll still be outside protocol. Mr. Mason is less than accepting of this idea, but his friends here at Interpol talked him into it."

"So he'll probably be a complete asshole on top of everything else?" Dresden glares at Hyde.

"Let me explain something to you, Agent Scholl. Blake Mason is one of the most successful entrepreneurs in the United States. I don't give a damn how he treats you. Do your damn job." Hyde stands and walks around the table, handing a manila folder to Jax. "Here's the information you need. Mason will be meeting with you, Williams, Scholl, and myself in an hour. He’s rented a local park for today back in Baltimore for a family affair, so we'll head there afterward."

"Wonderful," I mutter.

Jax gives me an agitated stare, and I avert my eyes.

"I'm not sure if this setup is a good idea," Jax says, scanning a paper in the manila folder.

"Too bad. We're trying to make Mason more accepting. You have free reign in almost everything else, but the setup can't be altered." Hyde’s tone leaves no room for argument.

"What's the setup?" Vlad, another one of my teammates, says.

Vlad looks more like a hitman than an Interpol agent. He usually has a shaved head with little to no facial hair, and he wears a thick, gold chain around his neck. A shark tooth earring hangs from his right ear, and on his right wrist, he wears this god-awful bracelet. It's a black leather cuff with dangling bits of bone and metal. Some crackpot, witch doctor gave it to him while we were working in Zimbabwe. It rattles as he taps his thumb on the table.

"Lily will act as point for his personal security team with you and Dresden as co-guards. Everyone else is undercover security."

"What does that entail exactly?" I sit up straighter as my stomach tightens. Just the look on Jax’s face tells me I’m not going to enjoy this shit.

"You’ll be with Mr. Mason at all times. In overly public places, the others will go with you. For large events, such as some of the charity functions he attends, you all go," Hyde says, turning toward the door.

I stare, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as the door closes behind him, shaking my head trying to process what he just said.

"Lily," Jax says gently.

My jaw clenches, forcing the muscles in my neck to flex. "Why the fuck do I have to be head of security?"

"The dick-face probably doesn't have an issue with women, so he won’t give you as hard of a time. He’ll think you’re a pushover," Dresden says, shaking his head.

"Interpol obviously doesn't know shit about our Lily." Vlad laughs.

The right side of my mouth quirks up, and I chuckle to myself. There’s a strange satisfaction that comes with proving you’re stronger and smarter than a man, at least, there is in my line of work.

Well . . . this could be fun.

"You going to be okay with this?" Jax stands, throwing the folder onto the table.

I chuckle. "Yeah. I love putting bitches in their place."

While we wait for Blake Mason to arrive at Interpol, Dresden and I change into more professional clothing. It’s kind of fun to watch him squirm wearing a long-sleeve button-down shirt, tie, and dress slacks. He looks so out of place, continually pulling on the shirt's collar, trying to loosen it. If he flexes, that thing is going to rip. He belongs in anything but dress clothes with his beard and stern face. I remain in black cargo pants, combat boots, black long-sleeve shirt with a high neckline. Same thing I usually wear. Jax, on the other hand, changed into a full gray suit. It’s the only time he actually looks like our Unit Chief, as opposed to the Nigerian Rebel fighter he used to be.

I'm not even sure why this guy needs protection. According to the profile, Mason’s six-foot-four, well-built, a black belt in karate, and competes in kickboxing tournaments every year. Our Technology Specialist also emailed an article from when he won a mixed martial arts competition in Fredericksburg.

Can't wait to see what he thinks of me being his main source of protection.

This is bound to be another instance of male stupidity.

"Try and behave yourselves today." Jax gives Dresden and I pointed glares.

We try to put on confused faces but fail miserably. Dresden chuckles and runs his fingers through his short brown hair. He's about as likely to get along with Mason as a tiger and its prey are to share a bed.

"We will, Jax. Relax. This isn't our first rodeo." I sit forward in my chair to pull my hair over my shoulder. After retrieving a hair tie from my pocket, I quickly braid my overly long tresses. Even styled this way, it hangs past my waist.

The door to the conference room opens, and we all get out of our seats as Hyde walks into the room, followed by what can only be Blake Mason. Dresden and I step up to flank Jax, and I give Mason the once over, paying close attention to details as he and Hyde chat.

He’s definitely built. His clothes are custom-tailored. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, broad in the shoulders and loose enough in the sleeves that when he moves, it just hints at muscled arms, with a white shirt and tie— alternating stripes of navy, light blue, and white. A Rolex on his left wrist peaks from under his sleeve, held closed by monogrammed cufflinks. This guy screams money and a lot of it.

“Mr. Mason, this is Jax Unnami, Unit Chief for the Human Trafficking Taskforce. They’ve been assigned to protect you for a while.” Hyde steps to the side as Jax steps forward and shakes hands with Mason.

“Three of you? I was under the impression your team was larger than this. Monroe made it sound like I was getting a small army,” Blake says in a deep, solid tone.

Jesus Christ. Listening to him talk is like plunging into a hot tub after hours in the snow.

His eyes lock on mine, and he stills, his mouth hanging slightly open. Something in my stomach pulls, and involuntarily, my body shifts forward. I square my shoulders, holding my breath for a moment.

Jax laughs, letting go of his hand. “You are, actually. Two of our members have already been sent to your apartment to get settled in, and the other three, including your new driver, will be meeting us later today.”

"Yes, Hyde mentioned I’d need to let my current driver go," Blake says, raising his eyebrow. "Though, I don't understand why it matters who's driving me."

"I doubt your driver is as skilled as Jameson Scott. That’s your new driver’s name," I say, stepping up next to Jax. Dresden does the same on the other side.

"My driver's worked for me for five years and is a dear employee. Your skills don't make me any happier about letting a valued employee go," he says sternly.

I meet his gaze. "Well, your happiness isn't our problem. Your life is. Jameson's an ex-marine and can drive anything from a tank to a motorcycle, so when the choice is run or die, you may appreciate his driving skills more than your valued employee."

"Are all your team members this smart-mouthed?" Blake keeps his eyes locked on mine.

Dresden coughs to cover his laughter.

"No, sir. She's one of a kind." Jax shoots me an annoyed but affectionate glance.

"And does she have a name?"

I tilt my head up as he takes a step toward me. He's a tall son-of-a-bitch. That annoying pull hits my stomach again, and I lock my knees to keep from moving forward.

"Mr. Mason, this is Lily Williams. She'll be your personal security."

"Well.” He licks his lips and smirks, the right side of his mouth pulling upward slightly. “It’ll be interesting if nothing else." His voice is low as he extends his hand to me.

I stand straighter and square my shoulders, trying to use the tension to hide the low roll of shakes that threaten to take over my limbs and swallow the fear that comes with the mere thought of touching his hand to shake it.

"I expect the people around me to have manners," he says, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Lily doesn't physically touch anyone, sir. It's nothing personal," Jax whispers.

"Oh, really? And why not?"

"That's none of your fucking business," I snap.

His eyes widen for a moment and then narrow. He steps toward me again, lowering his hand, and my whole body tenses, hands shaking at my sides.

"I wonder if I'll actually be safe with you, Agent Williams." His voice is low and husky.

"Perfectly safe. Providing you can follow orders and not make things difficult." He stares at me, anger and mistrust deep in his eyes. I sigh loudly and roll my eyes. “Look, man. I’m not gonna shake your hand, but I will promise to kill anyone who so much as breaths in your direction in a manner we find threatening. Just behave and don’t give me a headache.”

He laughs, and it's a deep, musical sound. "I'll try to behave myself." He winks and turns back toward Jax. They introduce Dresden and then head over to the table to discuss some details and our pending trip to Baltimore.

I stay back, keeping as much distance between this guy and me as I can.

"You'll have your hands full with this one," Dresden whispers in my ear, startling me.

"Yeah, no shit."

After another fifteen or twenty minutes, Blake Mason leaves the room to head to his family outing with the reassurance that we’ll join him in a few hours. It’s only ten in the morning, and I already need this day to be over.

Hyde exchanges a few more words with Jax and takes his leave as well. As Jax walks over to Dresden and I, he shakes his head. “This is going to give me a constant migraine.”

“Not my fault, Jax,” I say, instantly on the defensive.

He smiles at me. “I never said it was, Lily. This guy’s just used to people following his orders. Now he has to follow ours. It’s going to make the entire mission stressful.”

I sigh and tuck a few loose strands of hair behind my ears. Yeah, that’s an understatement.