repair shop and her
mother took care of the books. Their love might have been tested over the
years, but never by forces who were trying to save the world.
Slapping her hands on her thighs, Macy sat up. Lack of
sleep and frustration over the elusive code had addled her brains. Why was she
thinking of the words “Dante” and “relationship” in the same context? If
nothing else, they worked for rival organizations. Except for a brief affair
to burn away the ghosts of the past, they couldn’t be anything more to each
other than former lovers.
But the time had come to lay their cards on the table. All
of them. The new ones, the old ones and all the cards in between. Maybe she’d
end up with a winning hand, but if nothing else, the terminable game would be
over.
She dashed to her tiny bedroom in the back of the house,
showered, changed and returned to the billiards room. She grabbed some fruit
from the kitchen and munched while she arranged the furniture to her liking.
Night had fallen. Where was Dante?
In the floor-to-ceiling mirror, she’d checked her bold, red
lipstick and tore her hands through her hair so that her auburn waves flashed
around her face in wild disarray. A touch of black eyeliner around her eyes and
she’d recreated the woman Dante once hadn’t been able to resist. In skinny black
jeans and tank top that zipped up the front, she looked casual, but sexy. She
loosened the clasp so that her breasts nearly spilled from the material. Now
she looked sexier .
Her plan was simple. She wanted to know why Dante betrayed
her and why he wanted her back. If his words rang true, she’d make him an
offer he couldn’t refuse.
It might not be what he thought he wanted—a real
reconciliation—but it was all she could give.
And then they’d be through.
She was on the brink of tapping on the lens of the camera
mounted above the fireplace to get Dante’s attention when the double doors
swung open. Dante stepped in, his brow instantly arched over curious eyes.
She stalked toward him with her sultriest strut, but stopped dead when
Abercrombie Marshall came up behind him.
“Abe?”
Macy froze, trying not to guess what her boss thought about
her seductive appearance. His stare was so hard, she immediately zipped up
her blouse and stood ramrod straight.
“Macy, we have a situation.”
He gestured toward the couch, but Macy remained standing. She
couldn’t imagine her boss would reprimand her for her liaison with Dante. He’d
known, if not specifically then by inference, the price she’d had to pay for
access to the house.
No, his expression denoted something more serious—something
deadly.
“The terrorists have taken a silo?” she guessed.
Abe nodded.
Her eyes flashed to Dante, who confirmed Abe’s report with
the stoic set of his jaw.
“Where?”
“Silo 887, in the Kun-Lun Mountains in Russian South
Siberia. The area is incredibly remote and travel to the region is
treacherous.”
“The Russian army?” she asked.
“Unable to reach the target area at this time,” he replied.
Dante stepped forward. “The Arm has sent in special ops,
but initial reports from satellite photos indicate that the terrorists have booby-trapped
the pass leading to the silo and have anti-aircraft capabilities. Chances are
slim that we’ll reach the area before zero hour.”
The impact of her failure knocked her in the gut. Agents
with more experience than her—even Abe—had warned her that a counter-code might
not exist, but she hadn’t wanted to give up so easily.
She still didn’t.
“What are our options?” she asked, her voice surprisingly
crisp.
“We don’t know if the terrorists really have the launch code
or if they’re just trying to get attention,” Abe said. “So we still have some
time. But not much.”
“Then I suggest we double our efforts to find Bogdanov’s
failsafe,” Dante answered.
“I’ve sent extra specialists to
mother took care of the books. Their love might have been tested over the
years, but never by forces who were trying to save the world.
Slapping her hands on her thighs, Macy sat up. Lack of
sleep and frustration over the elusive code had addled her brains. Why was she
thinking of the words “Dante” and “relationship” in the same context? If
nothing else, they worked for rival organizations. Except for a brief affair
to burn away the ghosts of the past, they couldn’t be anything more to each
other than former lovers.
But the time had come to lay their cards on the table. All
of them. The new ones, the old ones and all the cards in between. Maybe she’d
end up with a winning hand, but if nothing else, the terminable game would be
over.
She dashed to her tiny bedroom in the back of the house,
showered, changed and returned to the billiards room. She grabbed some fruit
from the kitchen and munched while she arranged the furniture to her liking.
Night had fallen. Where was Dante?
In the floor-to-ceiling mirror, she’d checked her bold, red
lipstick and tore her hands through her hair so that her auburn waves flashed
around her face in wild disarray. A touch of black eyeliner around her eyes and
she’d recreated the woman Dante once hadn’t been able to resist. In skinny black
jeans and tank top that zipped up the front, she looked casual, but sexy. She
loosened the clasp so that her breasts nearly spilled from the material. Now
she looked sexier .
Her plan was simple. She wanted to know why Dante betrayed
her and why he wanted her back. If his words rang true, she’d make him an
offer he couldn’t refuse.
It might not be what he thought he wanted—a real
reconciliation—but it was all she could give.
And then they’d be through.
She was on the brink of tapping on the lens of the camera
mounted above the fireplace to get Dante’s attention when the double doors
swung open. Dante stepped in, his brow instantly arched over curious eyes.
She stalked toward him with her sultriest strut, but stopped dead when
Abercrombie Marshall came up behind him.
“Abe?”
Macy froze, trying not to guess what her boss thought about
her seductive appearance. His stare was so hard, she immediately zipped up
her blouse and stood ramrod straight.
“Macy, we have a situation.”
He gestured toward the couch, but Macy remained standing. She
couldn’t imagine her boss would reprimand her for her liaison with Dante. He’d
known, if not specifically then by inference, the price she’d had to pay for
access to the house.
No, his expression denoted something more serious—something
deadly.
“The terrorists have taken a silo?” she guessed.
Abe nodded.
Her eyes flashed to Dante, who confirmed Abe’s report with
the stoic set of his jaw.
“Where?”
“Silo 887, in the Kun-Lun Mountains in Russian South
Siberia. The area is incredibly remote and travel to the region is
treacherous.”
“The Russian army?” she asked.
“Unable to reach the target area at this time,” he replied.
Dante stepped forward. “The Arm has sent in special ops,
but initial reports from satellite photos indicate that the terrorists have booby-trapped
the pass leading to the silo and have anti-aircraft capabilities. Chances are
slim that we’ll reach the area before zero hour.”
The impact of her failure knocked her in the gut. Agents
with more experience than her—even Abe—had warned her that a counter-code might
not exist, but she hadn’t wanted to give up so easily.
She still didn’t.
“What are our options?” she asked, her voice surprisingly
crisp.
“We don’t know if the terrorists really have the launch code
or if they’re just trying to get attention,” Abe said. “So we still have some
time. But not much.”
“Then I suggest we double our efforts to find Bogdanov’s
failsafe,” Dante answered.
“I’ve sent extra specialists to
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