LITMIR.BIZ

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      And yeah, he still enjoyed the rush of flying close to the flame while doing it.

      Troy worked his hands inside the cuffs. “You could have waited. There was no need to freak out Hillary Wright. I would think you’d want her calm.”

      Her horrified, disillusioned blue eyes were burned in his memory as deeply as the sound of her laugh and the genuine warmth of her smile.

      Sighing, Salvatore swiped a hand over his closely shorn head. “If you’d been on the private jet like you were supposed to be none of this would have happened. Stop caring what Hillary Wright thinks of you. She’ll be out of your life by Monday. Your time will be your own soon enough and, with luck, I won’t need to call on you again for a long while.”

      The years stretched ahead in monotony. His company all but ran itself now. The past eleven months since he’d been called upon had been boring as hell.

      His mind zipped back to Hillary and how he would see her for the rest of the weekend—how she would see him. “A bachelor auction, huh? That grand dame can’t expect me to strut down some catwalk.”

      “When did you start worrying about appearances?”

      “When did you start using innocents like Hillary?” he snapped back, unsettled by the protective surge pumping through him. At least he would have a chance to explain to her some of what had happened on the plane. He could claim the event swore him to secrecy about the handcuffing gig, even if he wasn’t authorized to tell her about his role with Interpol. “I thought your gig was to, uh, collaborate with the fallen.”

      “My ‘gig’ is to mentor people with potential. Always has been.”

      “Mentor. Jailer.”

      Salvatore smirked. “Someone’s grouchy.”

      Troy rattled his cuffs as they drove deeper into the skyscraper-filled city. “Could you just take the cuffs off?”

      He hated being confined and Salvatore knew that, damn it. Although looking at the cuffs now, other uses scrolled through his head, sexy fantasies of using them with Hillary. Maybe he would lock his wrist to hers, and take it from there.

      “The mistress of ceremonies has the key.”

      “You’re joking.” He had to be. “That’s hours away.”

      “When have I ever had a sense of humor?”

      “Valid point.” Troy’s hands fell in his lap. He might as well settle in for the scenic ride through downtown Chicago. He would be free, eventually, and then he would check on Hillary. For now, he was stuck with Salvatore.

      The colonel was one eccentric dude.

      Sure, Salvatore was the Interpol handler for the group of freelancers whose lifestyles gave them a speedy entrée into a high-profile circle when fast action was needed. But it must blow to be an overgrown babysitter for Troy at some shindig hosted by a local grand dame at a downtown hotel. Tonight’s gala kicked off a whole weekend of partying for the rich and famous, under the pretense of charity work.

      And apparently Salvatore wasn’t just here for Troy, but helping the CIA by being here for Hillary, too.

      “Colonel, I am curious, though, why do we need Hillary for this? How much does she know?”

      The more Troy learned about her, the more of an edge he would have over her the next time he saw her.

      “She’s here to identify contacts of her former boyfriend. And because we and the CIA need to be sure she’s truly as innocent as she seems.”

      Was his protectiveness misplaced? Could he have so misread her? Either way, it didn’t dim how damn badly he wanted to peel her power suit off with his teeth. “This is really just to test her?”

      The colonel waved aside Troy’s indignation. “Speaking of Hillary Wright. Your little stunt—switching from the private jet to her flight? Not cool. I had to cancel lunch with an ambassador to get here in time.”

      “You’re breaking my heart.”

      Sighing, Salvatore shook his head. “How the hell did you even get on that plane?”

      “Really?” Troy cocked an eyebrow. “Do you even have to ask me, the guy who broke through the school’s supposedly impenetrable computer firewalls in order to hack your bank account and send flowers to the Latin teacher on your behalf?”

      A laugh rumbled in the old guy’s chest. “As I recall, that trick didn’t go so well for you since she and I were quietly seeing each other and I’d already sent her flowers. She figured out fast who pulled that off.”

      “But the flowers I chose were better—Casablanca lilies, if I recall.”

      “And I learned from that. Same way you should accept you can learn from others once in a while.” Salvatore and the teacher had eventually married—and divorced. The man’s laughter faded into a scowl. “The internet is not your personal plaything.”

      Troy held up his cuffed wrists. “These give me hives and flashbacks.”

      Salvatore’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

      “Because I’ll get the job done. I always do. I’ll find our mystery guy either in person or through the hotel’s security system. I will make sure this time that he doesn’t get away with hiding from the cameras. We will track his accounts and nail the bastard.” He’d only caught a glimpse of the guy once, a month ago shortly before they’d taken down Barry Curtis. If only they’d caught both men then … “But now, as far as I’m concerned, my job also includes making sure Hillary Wright stays safe in that pool of piranhas posing as scions of society.”

      “As long as you don’t make a spectacle of yourself or her, I can live with that. Keep it low-key for once.”

      “Okay, deal,” he agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly because Salvatore’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Time for a diversion. “One last thing, though.”

      “You’re pushy today.”

      “Look in my briefcase. I brought John Junior—” Salvatore’s only kid “—a copy of Alpha Realms IV. He’ll have a month’s head start mastering it before it hits the market.”

      “Bribery’s a crime.” But Salvatore still reached for the Italian leather case. “What’s the favor?”

      “It’s just a gift for your son from my software company. No strings attached.”

      “What’s the favor?” he repeated.

      “I don’t agree with your pulling Hillary Wright into this. She’s too naive and uninformed. After the party tonight, I want her sent home to D.C. Scrap keeping her around for the weekend.”

      Troy would figure out a way to contact her in D.C., without all the hidden agenda crap. But make no mistake, he would see her again.

      “She’s not so innocent if she was involved with Barry Curtis.” The colonel slid the video game into his black briefcase. “She’ll prove herself this weekend—or not.”

      “Guilty of bad judgment, that’s all.” Troy was sure of that. What he didn’t know—something that bothered him even more—was if Hillary still had feelings for the creep.

      God, why did he feel such a connection to a woman he’d only just met? Maybe because she possessed an innocence he’d never had.

      “Are you so sure about her?” The leather seats creaked as Salvatore shifted back into place.

      Troy was certain he couldn’t let her go into a ballroom full of crooks alone. “I’m sticking with her tonight and putting her on a plane in the morning.”

      Salvatore patted his briefcase. “You should really keep me happy if you want me to put in a good word with your brother’s parole officer.”

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