LITMIR.BIZ

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      Elizabeth Wells had served as executive assistant to OMEGA’s director for almost two decades. The silver-haired grandmother had fallen while doing a foxtrot on a big-band cruise of the Potomac with her latest beau. After hip-replacement surgery and months of rehab, Elizabeth was ready to resume her duties.

      Three of her bosses were present for the homecoming. Adam Ridgeway, code name Thunder, had hired Elizabeth all those years ago. Tall and broad-shouldered, Thunder stood with one hand in the pocket of his hand-tailored slacks and a pained expression on his face while his wife—also a former operative and one-time OMEGA director—related the latest exploits of their youngest.

      “Tank insists it wasn’t his idea.” With a rueful grin, Maggie Sinclair, code name Chameleon, continued her description of her son’s assault on the hallowed halls of Harvard. “He also insists he did not position Terence atop the bust of John Adams, at the perfect angle to spit into the face of the dean of the Business School.”

      Terence, as the assembled operatives all knew, was the orange-and-purple-striped iguana Maggie had brought back from a mission in Central America years ago. The evil-tempered creature was the bane of Adam’s existence. He’d been looking forward to its demise for as long as anyone could remember, but his wife and three children adored the damned thing. So much so that Adam Jr.—known to his family and friends as Tank—had carted off the lizard with him to enjoy the delights of his freshman year at Harvard.

      Tank’s sister took up the tale at that point. “You should have seen Dad’s face when the dean called.”

      Laughter sparkled in Gillian Ridgeway’s vivid blue eyes. She had her father’s gleaming black hair and aristocratic features. From her mother, she’d inherited a flair for languages and an irrepressible sense of humor. On extended leave from her job with the State Department, Gillian had filled in as executive assistant to OMEGA’s director during Elizabeth Wells’s convalescence.

      “Dad won’t say what it cost to keep both Tank and Terence on the student rolls, but I suspect Harvard got a hefty endowment out of it.”

      “I suspect they’ll get several endowments before Tank graduates.”

      That came from Nick Jensen, code name Lightning, OMEGA’s current director. Lightning had headed the agency through three successive presidential administrations. Although he hadn’t made a formal announcement, the betting was he’d resign the directorship after the upcoming election. When his wife, Mackenzie, surprised herself and everyone else by turning up pregnant with their first child, the bet had become a sure thing.

      “There she is!”

      Alerted by a glimpse through the window of a sleek limo gliding to a halt at the curb, Lightning strode out to greet his executive assistant. A few moments later he escorted the slender, gray-haired grandmother into his office.

      Agents with code names such as Slash, Rogue, Cowboy, Diamond and Cyrene welcomed her with warm hugs. Elizabeth had tears in her eyes when Maggie gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze and Adam dropped an affectionate kiss on her cheek. While the champagne corks popped, Elizabeth dabbed her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief before proceeding to stun the entire gathering.

      “I have an announcement. I’m afraid my return is only temporary.”

      Instant concern replaced the smiles and good wishes. Lightning’s voice went taut. “What’s happened? Did you experience complications you didn’t tell me about during my last visit?”

      “As a matter of fact, I did.” Her pale blue eyes filled with a combination of chagrin and delight. “I’m getting married next month. Next week, if Daniel has his way.”

      After a few seconds of stunned silence, Lightning recovered. “Daniel? Who the hell is this character, and why didn’t you let us check him out?”

      “You did. Very thoroughly, as I recall. It’s Daniel Foster. Dr. Daniel Foster.”

      “Your surgeon?”

      “One and the same.” A hint of red crept into Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Apparently he thinks I have rather elegant hips, before and after the surgery. I think he just wants to admire his handiwork.”

      Whoops erupted throughout the room. When they subsided and champagne flutes made their way into everyone’s hands, Lightning lifted his glass.

      “To you and Dr. Dan. He’d better make you very happy or some extremely lethal undercover agents will show up on his doorstep.”

      Several similar toasts later, Elizabeth brought up the subject of her successor. Her expression was as warm as her voice when she turned to Gillian.

      “Lightning says you did a magnificent job covering for me, Jilly. Will you stay on, dear, until you decide whether you want to go back to the State Department?”

      “Well…”

      Lowering her lashes, Gillian twirled the stem of her champagne flute between her fingers. She’d planned to wait to make her own announcement. Since Elizabeth had set the stage, however…

      “Actually, I am staying on. As an agent.”

      “The hell you are!”

      The explosive remark surprised everyone, including the operative it burst from. Red surged above the collar of Mike Callahan’s shirt collar as all heads turned in his direction, but the frown he directed at Gillian was fierce and unapologetic.

      She answered the thunderous scowl with one of her quick smiles. “It’s a done deal. Uncle Nick gave his stamp of approval yesterday.”

      “Not without considerable arm twisting,” her honorary uncle muttered under his breath.

      Mike Callahan, code name Hawkeye, tightened his jaw. “You’re not trained for this kind of work, Jilly.”

      “I’ll get the training.”

      Gillian’s smile took on an edge that either of her siblings would have recognized in a heartbeat. “I held my own in Scotland. Didn’t I, Rogue?”

      The tall, slender blonde she addressed nodded. “That you did, girlfriend.”

      Yeah, Callahan thought savagely. And he hadn’t drawn a full breath until he’d put her on a plane for home.

      A former military cop, he was a dead shot with every weapon in the government’s arsenal and a good number that weren’t. Hence his code name, Hawkeye, which most of his fellow agents shortened to Hawk. In his civilian life he was a marksmanship instructor at the Federal Law Enforcement Academy at Quantico, Virginia. He’d also taught all three of the Ridgeway off-spring to shoot.

      Gillian-with-a-J had been the first. The J was a standing joke that went back to their initial meeting. All arms and long, long legs, the teenager had grinned up at him and introduced herself as Gillian, pronounced with a soft G, like in Jillian.

      Hawk had lost part of his heart to the gangly teen right then and there. In the years since, he’d come damned close to losing the rest of it. Like most of the male agents at OMEGA, he was seriously in lust with the stunning, sensual creature Gillian Ridgeway had become. The woman could set off a firestorm in his belly with a single glance from those electric blue eyes.

      He’d kept the fire in check, however. Despite the hints she’d been throwing his way recently, he knew damned well he was too old for her, too rough around the edges. He also knew that undercover work could be dangerous not only for him but for anyone who went into the field with him.

      He looked at her now, his insides twisting as another face superimposed itself on Gillian’s classic features. He could hear the splat of bullets tearing through the vines. Feel the vicious downwash of the chopper hovering above the canopy. See the sprawled, lifeless body of the woman he’d gone into the jungle with.

      Slamming the door on the searing memory, he swung toward Gillian’s parents. “You’ve both been field agents. You know what it’s like. You’re good with this?”

      “Yes,”

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