a freelance artist paid the bills. In Roman, she’d seen a kindred spirit-a career-focused professional at one moment; a free-wheeling vagabond at another. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t just let him go. He was too perfect for her. He understood her like no other man ever could.
And yet, she was practicing the ultimate deception to find out more about him. Would he forgive her if he found out?
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she suggested as Mario followed the other yellow cab onto a quiet street with tall, thick elms in decorative iron planters embedded in the sidewalk.
Mario kept his expression blank. “Tell me now, Rachel. You don’t want to know what the man is hiding, we go home.”
She pressed her eyelids shut. She was so close. Would it really hurt to finish what she’d started? “I need to know,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. What if he
“Here’s your chance,” Mario said.
The yellow cab pulled up to the curb in front of a clearly upscale condo building, only this one had no doormen- at least, none out at the early hour of the morning. After a moment where Rachel assumed he was paying the driver, Roman got out. Almost instantaneously, a tall, slim brunette emerged from the shadows.
And made a beeline for Roman.
Rachel sat forward, watching out of the corner of her eye as the cab Roman had ridden in pulled away. He didn’t seem to notice. His attention was one hundred and ten percent on the leggy brunette.
“Now, who is she?” Mario asked.
Rachel opened her mouth to ask the same question, but before she could, the brunette with the waist-length, glossy black hair grabbed Roman by the lapels and tugged him into a hot, hard kiss.
“Holy shit.”
They’d cursed in unison.
Rachel reached for the door handle. Mario grabbed her by the elbow.
“You have your answer. Rachel, let it be,” he said, his dark eyes glossy with warning.
Rachel looked at his hand with disdain, but then quickly realized he just wanted to protect her. She appreciated the sentiment, but she could slay her own dragons. She’d sliced a few open in her lifetime. She could again.
“Yes, I do. Mario, trust me on this.” Her gaze flicked to Roman, who was still swapping spit with the Cheron- a-stick look-alike in skintight leather jeans. “I will not let that man, or any man, walk all over me. Never have, never will.”
Mario released her arm, and before she lost one ounce of indignation, Rachel pushed out of the cab. Sure, she and Roman had never pretended to be exclusive. Hell, they’d never even talked the matter over. But while Rachel Marlowe may have grown up with three sisters, she’d never learned to share. Especially not her lovers.
As soon as she was close enough, she tapped the chick in the boob-hugging turtleneck on the shoulder and said a polite excuse me. Once. Twice.
The exotic brunette turned slowly, her eyes a dreamy onyx mix of shadows and mystery. “May I help you?”
Rachel grinned. “Actually, yes. Could you step aside?”
The woman complied, giving Rachel a perfect shot with her fist on Roman’s jaw. “You son of a bitch!”
Roman barely flinched, but his eyes widened and his face, so healthy and tanned less than half an hour ago, lost all color. He grabbed Rachel by the arm and yanked her behind him so quickly, she lost her footing on the dew- slippery sidewalk.
He turned and shot a finger out at her. “Stay there.”
With a spin, he faced the woman in black, who’d gone into an odd fighting pose. He raised his hands in front of him, as if she was going to attack. “Dom, don’t get crazy.”
The woman’s stare was ice. “I don’t get crazy, Brach. But if you don’t keep that-”
Her threat was cut off by the squeal of tires. Rachel half expected Mario to come riding to her rescue, but instead she saw a dark sports car approaching, headlights off. She narrowed her gaze, and at the same moment that she noticed something protruding from the passenger-side window, Roman dove over her, shielding her body as gunfire rent the air.
Rachel screamed. Bullets shot from the car and pinged nearby. Then return fire exploded near her ears.
From the barrel of Roman’s own gun.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE INCIDENT LASTED LESS than three seconds, but Roman could have sworn a painful, torturous hour had passed before the bullets stopped piercing the sidewalk. The attacker in the sports car sped away, tires screeching. Domino darted into the street, firing her weapon until the distance made her shots wasteful. The agent dashed back to him just as he was rolling off of Rachel. Leave it to his superiors to send his former lover, Domino Black, as his contact.
“Rachel, are you hit?” he asked, desperately searching her for signs of blood.
Except for a scrape on her cheek, she was clean. Her amazing jade-green eyes were glossy from shock. He leaned forward to check her breathing when tires squealed again.
Roman turned and aimed, concurrently with Domino, who still had her weapon at the ready. But this time, the offending car was a taxi and Mario Capelli swung open his driver-side door. He remained behind the door, a large, unfriendly-looking.357 Magnum clutched confidently in his hands.
“Let her up,” he ordered, jerking his head toward Rachel.
Domino made a slight move to the right. Through clenched teeth, Roman ordered her to stand down. The woman was the most accomplished marksman in the Agency-and a trained assassin. She could take Mario out without batting an eyelash.
“He’s a friend,” Roman explained.
Domino lowered her weapon. She was deadly but not cruel.
Beneath him, Rachel groaned. The sound tore through him with the same velocity as a jacketed hollow-point bullet fired at close range. She’d almost died. On account of his job, his enemies. His lies.
“She’s fine, Mario,” Roman called out. “Just a little groggy.”
The wily taxi driver stepped around to the front of his car with strong, bold steps that belied his advanced age. He kept his weapon out, but he’d lowered the barrel. “Who are you?”
Roman checked Rachel for signs of any other injury. He found nothing, but her eyes were dilated. Unprepared for his jumping on top of her, she’d likely banged her head hard against the ground. “I’m not one of the bad guys, Mario.”
“And why should I believe you?”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Damn. The police would descend any minute. He didn’t have to look up to know that Domino had blended back into the shadows, disappearing into the morning as if she’d never been there. He should have shot her in the back for the trouble she’d caused, kissing him like that. He’d only allowed the kiss to linger because he’d figured Domino had a good reason for creating a scene where they were lovers once again. Now he knew she’d only entrapped him because she knew Rachel had been watching.
Typical.
Rachel pulled herself up onto shaky knees.
“Who was that?”
He didn’t know if she was talking about Domino or the shooters in the car, but he decided going with the latter as a safer topic.
“I’ve never seen that car before,” Roman said, not lying, but of course not telling her the truth, either.
Unfortunately for him, Rachel wasn’t stupid, but she was angry. She pushed up on to her feet, and when she wobbled, Mario buoyed her by the elbows. Roman reached forward to help, but both of their poisonous stares made him retract his hands.
