I Spy a Naughty Game

who deserves it more.”

“Thanks.”

“Double that for me,” Emma put in with a smile. Bastian nodded, but before he could speak, another knock sounded and the door opened, the newcomers moving to stand near Michael’s desk, off to one side.

“Sorry we’re late, boss,” Ozzie said.

“No, we’re just getting started.” Michael gestured to Emma, diving in without further ado. “You go first, give us the rundown on our suspects.”

She immediately understood that she was the rookie in the room when it came to this sort of undercover work and was expected to prove her worth. Preparing an agent for a job by doing background research and then providing a disguise in no way equaled the skill necessary to go undercover herself. Eager to make a good impression, she sat up straight and spoke with what she hoped came across as confidence.

“We have five primary suspects who are possibly providing Dietz with monetary backing and who may know where the weapon is being hidden. Ralph Meyer, Landon Hart, and Augustine Kosta are businessmen, all three powerful movers and shakers. One is a woman, Nicole Andrews, who is Hart’s sub. Her involvement is a question mark, more so than the others.”

“Why is that?”

She held her boss’s gaze. “Because she’s only been with Hart a few months.”

“Correct. Go on.”

“The last and most important player is Major Reed Fontaine. He and Dietz are old acquaintances. Eight years ago, there was a whisper of an accusation that the major was overheard having a private conversation with an unknown person in which he sympathized with Al Qaeda, but he was considered so far above reproach that the matter suffered a swift death. He has not, however, received a rank advancement since then, which may have further fueled his desire for retribution against his own government.”

“Good work. What is the thread that ties all of these people together?” Michael asked her, continuing his quiz.

“They are all part of the D/s scene to varying degrees and have met with increasing frequency at one particular club, Velvet Underground. Outside of the club, they have little or nothing in common in their personal and professional lives. For this reason, we believe they’re using the D/s scene as an excuse to meet and conduct their business regarding the weapon, and possibly other illegal activities as well, with none the wiser. If they’re meeting at another location besides the club, we’ll follow them and find out where.”

“Pretty clever,” Bastian put in. “If not for Dietz’s connection to the major, we might never have caught on.”

“True, but it’s still theory,” Michael reminded them. “We need proof, which is why I’m sending you all in. If Major Fontaine isn’t Dietz’s right hand, the one who provided the bastard with the inside information he needed in order to steal the weapon in the first place, he might know who did.”

Blaze spoke up. “My money’s still on the major. Despite his ‘untouchable’ status, inside sources say he’s a ruthless fucker with a God complex nearly as big as Dietz’s. If anyone in the government could’ve helped Dietz pull this off and had the motivation to do so, it’s him.”

“With any luck we’ll know soon enough.” Michael shifted his attention to Ozzie and Willis. “You two will spend most of your time in the van on surveillance, listening in. If and when it’s necessary for you to observe from a closer position, Emma will work her magic to help you blend into the crowd.”

She nodded. “Most of the makeup and costume changes I’ll bring, except for what we need ourselves, should fit in the van. Blaze and I definitely don’t want to be caught with that stuff.”

Michael leaned forward, an eager gleam in his eyes. “Good point. We’re all on the same page?” The question was met with a round of affirmative answers. “All right. Ozzie and Willis will keep me informed. One hint that anything has gone wrong, Bastian and I will bring in the troops, so don’t give us cause for worry. Be back here in forty-eight hours, ready to go, wheels up. That’s all.”

Emma rose and followed Blaze out, leaving their counterparts, who stayed to ask their boss and Bastian a couple of questions. Blaze turned around, walking backward, a smirk on his face.

“Getting nervous yet?”

“No. I’m a professional, so why should I be?” Annoying man.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because in forty-eight hours you’ll have to convince a roomful of dangerous men that you live to serve me?”

A thrill shot through her at the image, but she rolled her eyes to cover the sudden, confusing reaction. “Get over yourself, hotshot. I can act with the best of ’em. How hard can it be to go through the motions?”

He laughed, the deep, smooth sound stroking her nerve endings like a lover. “Oh, honey. After the way you responded to me last night, I don’t think acting is going to come into play. And I’ll prove it.”

“How?”

“At the end of this assignment, if you can look me in the eye and honestly say you didn’t love every single part of your role — minus the bad guys, of course — then I’ll be your sub for as long as you want.”

She stared at him, incredulous. A man like him would never make a bet like that if he thought there was a chance in hell he’d lose. “You’re on,” she heard herself say, the lure of the wager too much to resist.

What? You idiot! You played right into his hands!

“Great! Dig around in that costume box and get your leathers polished, baby,” he said in a low voice, raking her from head to toe with a heated look. “We have some… research to conduct in the name of national security. See you when you get off work.”

He spun and jogged off, and she spent a few moments watching his fine ass disappear down the corridor before the clearing of a throat snared her attention. She turned to see that Ozzie and Willis had joined her and were grinning like Cheshire cats. How much had they heard? Her face flushed.

“Shut up,” she said, pointing her finger at Ozzie, before he could even open his mouth.

She marched away, heading for the sanctuary of her office, their snorts of laughter at her back.

Jerks. Must be part of the male DNA.

No wonder most of the world was at war; men were in charge. And she, a strong, competent professional woman, was about to abase herself at the feet of one of their nutty population.

You had to love irony.

Robert Dietz sat quietly on the metal bench in his barren white cell, legs crossed and hands clasped in his lap, the picture of the perfect gentleman.

Why shouldn’t he be calm and polite toward his guards? It wasn’t as if he’d be here much longer. No, this was and always had been strictly business. He harbored no real animosity toward anyone at SHADO.

Except for Michael Ross. Him, he’d gladly consign to hell.

If only poor Maggie’s untimely death had kept Ross from the helm a while longer, SHADO would’ve been firmly under Robert’s control by now. A near-invincible force of surveillance experts, combat veterans, and assassins — his to direct to his causes at will.

For that loss alone, he’d triple Ross’s suffering.

A pained grunt and the sound of footsteps running toward him along the corridor broke into his thoughts. He stood and moved to the cell door, the anticipation of probable danger singing in his blood. He hadn’t been behind a desk so long that he’d forgotten how to fight when necessary. He’d require all of that experience now, and then some.

Avery Hanson appeared at his cell door, shouldering an Uzi submachine gun and fumbling with a ring of keys. “Shift change. Took out the new guards and the security camera just like you told me,” he panted, young face pinched in anxiety.

“Well done. We have perhaps forty-five seconds to a minute before someone comes to check on the glitch. Surprise is our best advantage on the way out, so we have to move.”

“Yes, sir.” With a twist of the key, Hanson unlocked the door, and the wall of bars slid sideways automatically. Reaching into the back of his fatigues, he removed a Glock and slapped it into Dietz’s waiting