Maya Banks - Shades of Gray

Donovan touched her arm. “I’ll be inside the entire time until you leave. Any problems, I’ll be watching.”

Then he turned to the others. “There’s a lot riding on this. Aside from the obvious need to rid the world of this scumbag and get those girls back to their homes, there are three governments offering a huge bounty if we deliver this asshole. Dead or alive, they don’t care. Resnick wants him alive because he wants information on his network. As much as our resident CIA contact has annoyed the shit out of me in recent times, I’m inclined to agree with him on this one. Brumley is just the supplier. There are a lot of sick sons of bitches who are buying these girls out there, and I want their asses too.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, their expressions grim.

“Then let’s go nail his ass to the wall,” P.J. said. “I can flirt with the devil himself if it helps us save those babies.”

Cole blew out his breath because she was right. If it were any other woman except P.J. he wouldn’t be so pissed over her going into this kind of situation. This is what they did. Whatever it took to accomplish the mission.

He had to stop thinking of her as the woman he’d slept with, the woman he’d laid claim to, even if she had no idea that in his mind she was his.

She was just a teammate tonight. One he had to back up and make sure they got out safe and unhurt. It was nothing they hadn’t done a hundred times before.

“Okay then, if there are no questions or concerns, let’s move out,” Steele said.

THE residence wasn’t what P.J. had been expecting. It was right in the heart of the city with off-street parking. Four men were performing valet duties and quickly moving along the line of cars waiting.

Donovan had opted to park a block away so he’d have access to a vehicle if necessary, and he and P.J. walked toward the gate, where two burly looking security men had been posted to check invitations.

Interestingly enough, there were several women, all decked out like Christmas trees scattered along the sidewalk. A stunning blonde was approached by one of the men getting out of his car. They conversed a moment and then the woman smiled and looped her arm through the man’s and they walked to the gate where he flashed his invitation.

“Is that the European equivalent of a blind date?” P.J. murmured.

Donovan chuckled. “Working girls. Just more high-class. And a hell of a lot more expensive. They get wind of a party like tonight’s and they know they can score a sugar daddy for the evening.

“Is that what you are tonight?” she asked mischievously. “My sugar daddy?”

“Hell no, I’m dumping your ass as soon as we get inside, remember?”

They both fell silent when they approached the gate. Donovan extended the ornately inscribed invitation and they were motioned inside where another man directed Donovan to hold his hands above his head while he patted Donovan down.

He glanced a moment at P.J. but then motioned her on after deciding there weren’t a lot of options for her to be hiding a weapon.

It would make her feel a whole hell of a lot better if she had a handgun at least. Her rifle was an extension of herself. It was odd not to feel her hands around it when she was on a mission. But a pistol would do nicely for this occasion. Then maybe she wouldn’t be so nervous.

Some women packed purses. P.J. packed heat.

The stairway of stone steps leading up to the front door was long, and P.J. prayed she wouldn’t trip in her heels and break her neck before they ever got inside.

When they finally reached the top, she sighed in relief and then took a deep breath as they entered the house. They were directed through the foyer and then to where double doors were open wide.

Music and the din of conversation could be heard from within. Donovan didn’t hesitate, but walked in as if he owned the place, arrogant and confident. Surprisingly, he fit right in among the glitz and the glam of all the attendees.

P.J. stopped in her tracks when she took in the glittering ballroom. Donovan’s grip tightened on her hand as he tucked it underneath his arm.

“Don’t slow now,” he murmured. “Smile and look confident. Like you belong.”

Easy for him to say. Places like this struck terror in her heart. It was filled with beautiful people. Beautiful rich people.

There was a sea of them.

She nearly laughed as Donovan expertly maneuvered them through the crowd toward the bar. She was here to garner the attention of one specific man. Gorgeous women were stacked wall to wall in this place. And she was supposed to stand out?

Donovan took two flutes of champagne and handed one to P.J. As he lifted one to his lips, he murmured to her.

“Okay, see the man on your far left? No, don’t look. Gradually scan. He’s in a group. Can’t miss him. Tall blond. Laughs really loud. Likes to be the center of attention. Women surround him because they know he has money and power. They have no idea of his perversions or they’d run like hell.”

A shiver raced down her spine.

Great.

She casually scanned the room until she found the man Donovan was referring to. Definitely couldn’t miss him. The boom of his laughter was loud even over the rest of the two hundred plus people gathered.

“That’s Brumley, and he’s a man to avoid. Under no circumstances do you want to gain his notice. Nelson is across the room and is currently alone. He’s surveying the crowd and, if I had to guess, looking to score. See him standing by the window? Shorter, stocky guy. Muscled, but he’s not one of Brumley’s bodyguards or he’d be hanging a hell of a lot closer to Brumley. He’s Brumley’s damage control. He’s the guy Brumley sends to clean up his messes. Dark hair. Mustache. Fake tan.”

“Yeah, I see him,” she murmured, her lips barely moving.

“Now would be a very good time for you to make a pass by him. The ladies’ room is beyond him so it’s the perfect opportunity for you to walk by and it’s likely why he’s taken position there, because he knows he’ll see the majority of the women at some point on their way to the powder room. Go reapply some lipstick and make eye contact on your way by. Give him a once-over, just enough to make him think you might be interested, but be subtle and don’t tip your hand too early.”

“Why Van, you sound like such an expert,” she said mockingly. “However are you still single?”

“Smart-ass,” he muttered.

She took a deep breath. “Okay, here I go.”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured. “We’ve all got your back.”

She clutched the beaded handbag, wishing desperately it was the stock of a loaded pistol, and walked as gracefully as she was capable across the room.

As soon as she approached she could feel Nelson’s gaze on her, all but peeling off her dress. She felt violated before she got within ten feet, just from the intensity of that lustful stare.

Even though Donovan had told her to make eye contact and to make that first move, her gut told her that obliviousness would serve her better. This was a guy who didn’t like not to be noticed. He was someone used to garnering attention. He probably had any number of women clinging to him at any given time if for nothing else than his connection to Brumley.

She unzipped her bag and pretended to focus her concentration on finding the lipstick as she drew even with Nelson. As soon as she passed, she relaxed but could still feel the weight of his stare boring into her back. He’d definitely noticed her.

It appeared as though Donovan’s intel was correct, because along with P.J. there had been two blondes and a stunning redhead walking in the direction of the ladies’ room, but Nelson had zeroed in on her.

She positioned herself in front of the mirror and forced herself to calm the jitters. She was a professional, with a hand as steady under pressure as they came. She always made her shot. No sweating. No panicking.

This girl stuff was more terrifying than an entire company of gun-wielding terrorists, though.

She made a show of touching up her lipstick, made sure it was nice and shiny, and then after she rubbed her lips together, she slid the tube back into her clutch and squared her shoulders, ready to exit.

To her utter surprise, she nearly ran headlong into Nelson as she left the ladies’ room. She stumbled back and her hand flew to the wall to regain her balance.

He grasped her arm and she managed a weak smile. “Thank you. You frightened me.”

“You are American,” he said in a heavily accented voice. A voice that was heavy with approval. His eyes gleamed, and she could almost see him rubbing his hands together like she was some choice steak he was about to devour.

“Y-yes,” she stammered out.

She had no basis for her assumptions, but with the predilection for young girls his boss had, and that he likely had as well, she imagined him going for young and innocent. Even when he went for legal-aged women.

She stared up at him wide-eyed and nervous, and even as she did, his arm came around her protectively as he herded her back toward the ballroom.

They paused a moment as he collected drinks for them both. While she stood there, Nelson looked across the room. She followed his gaze to find Brumley staring intently at both of them. If Nelson’s earlier frank assessment had made her uncomfortable, then Brumley’s very blunt gaze made her feel naked in a room full of strangers. Then his eyes gleamed and he gave Nelson a short nod that made P.J. grow cold.

Nelson didn’t give her time to ponder the meaning behind Brumley’s acknowledgment. He urged her toward the patio doors and then out onto the terrace. The night air was chilly on her bare arms and legs. It was an excuse for him to get even closer to her, and he took it, wrapping a beefy arm around her, all but hauling her up to his side.

She positively itched to knee him in the balls and then kick his ass on the spot, but she managed to control those urges and instead glance shyly up at him.

“What’s an American girl like you doing here?” he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are Americans not welcome?”

He chuckled. “No, of course they are welcome.” He stared at her a long moment, obviously studying her with avid curiosity. “You’re different from the other girls. The man you came in with. You belong to him?”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she said crisply. “I met him outside. I heard about the party and that it was a swanky affair. Thought it would be fun to crash. There were other women picking up dates at the gate.” She shrugged. “I figured why not? I made him look good coming in and now I’m free to mingle, eat good food and have as much as I want to drink.”

“You even sound American,” Nelson said with a chuckle. “So independent. I like American girls. They have fire.”

* * *

“DAMN, she even has me convinced,” Dolphin muttered.

The rest of the team had gathered outside a bar just half a block from the house where the party was being hosted. They were dressed casually. Like a group of guys out for a good time.

“She’s good,” Renshaw said. “Thinks quick on her feet. Smart girl.”

Steele held up his hand as the conversation between P.J. and Nelson resumed. Cole stood in the dark, hands shoved into his pockets as he listened in disgust while the creep came on to her with all the finesse of a rutting bull.

P.J. said and did all the appropriate things. She was believably hesitant and she sounded shy at his forceful proposition.

Nelson turned cajoling, seemingly more excited the more reluctant P.J. came across.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they came to an agreement that they would travel back to her hotel room.

“On my way out,” Donovan said in a low voice they could hear from the transmitter he carried. “I’m giving them a head start, so you’ll see them first. Tag them and make damn sure you keep on her tail. I don’t want anything going wrong.”

Cole swiveled sharply, looking for them to make their appearance.

“He’s taking her out the back. He likely has a car parked behind the house,” Donovan reported.

Cole started to clench his first, and as if sensing his agitation, Steele focused on him. “Stand down. We know where they’re going. We have her on GPS. Get in your vehicles and make the block.”

The others quickly spread out, fading into the evening crowds on the street as they went to their parked vehicles.