Night Life

Whatever location had the best advantage for watching the dock.

Starting at the back, Sasha worked her way from office to office, carefully scanning each room. So far, empty offices with desks, but no sign of Kane.

Was she in the wrong place? The next two offices had closed doors. She put her shoulder to the first door and forced it open. In the room, the window was open a crack, just enough for the barrel of a rifle.

“I thing I’ve found something,” she muttered into her communicator as she studied the interior of the room. “I’m alone, but someone’s been here recently.”

Before she could react, a shadow stepped out from behind the filing cabinet and grabbed her, shoving the barrel of a gun under her chin and forcing her head back.

“Hello, lover,” Sasha murmured.

Dear Reader,

Like the fast-paced holiday season, Silhouette Bombshell is charged with energy, and we’re thrilled to bring you an unforgettable December reading experience. Our strong, sexy, savvy women will have you cheering, gasping and turning pages to see what happens next!

Let USA TODAY bestselling author Lindsay McKenna sweep you away to Peru in Sister of Fortune, part of the SISTERS OF THE ARK miniseries. This military heroine must retrieve a sacred artifact from dangerous hands. The last thing she needs is a sexy man she can’t trust—too bad she has to work with one!

Check out Debra Webb’s Justice, the latest in the ATHENA FORCE continuity series. Police lieutenant Kayla Ryan will risk everything to find her murdered friend’s long-lost child and bring down an enemy who is closer than she ever suspected….

In Night Life, by Katherine Garbera, a former spy turned mother and wife finds herself drawn back into clandestine games when her former agency calls her in to catch a rogue agent—her estranged husband.

And don’t miss Patricia Rosemoor’s Hot Case, the story of a detective who enters her twin sister’s dark world of wannabe vampires—and maybe the real thing—to find out why dead bodies are disappearing almost before her eyes.

As an editor, I am often asked what I’m looking for in a Bombshell novel. Well, I want to know what you’re looking for as a reader. Please send your comments to me, c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

Best wishes,

Natashya Wilson

Associate Senior Editor, Silhouette Bombshell

Night Life

Katherine Garbera

MILLS & BOON

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KATHERINE GARBERA

is an award-winning, bestselling author for Harlequin and Silhouette Books. Garbera started making up stories for her own benefit when she was on a competitive swim team in high school. Though she went to Florida State and usually medaled at swim meets, Katherine says her heart wasn’t in swimming but rather in the stories she created as she swam laps at practice. Katherine holds a red belt in the martial art of Tae Kwon Do and vows that there’s not a piece of plywood out there that can take her in a fair match! Readers can visit her on the Web at katherinegarbera.com.

In loving memory of Priscilla Tromblay, my paternal grandmother, who lived life on her own terms with a fierce and independent spirit.

Thanks for showing me that anything can be accomplished if you work hard enough at it.

Acknowledgments:

Thanks to Rob Elser for answering my many questions about life in London and the U.K.

Thanks to Janet Justiss for helping me with the French dialogue—any mistakes are my own!

Thanks to Mary Louise Wells for helping with the initial polish of the proposal; Eve Gaddy for just always being there when I called; and Beverly Brandt for her helpful advice on writing a bigger story.

As always, thanks to my family, who are always supportive of whatever idea I have.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Prologue

The fact that our task is exactly as large as our life makes it infinite.

—Franz Kafka

The wind shifted to blow from the north but no sound emerged from the surrounding woods. The silence was unnatural. Nightshade tensed, every sense on hyperalert.

Nothing was hidden from her vantage point. In the clearing near the chopper was a puddle of darkness. It could just be shadows from the clouds covering the moon, but she sensed a human presence there.

Townsend. As smart as he was lethal, Elias Townsend had once been a master spy for Her Majesty’s Intelligence Agency. Frustrated with agency bureaucracy, he’d crossed over to the life of a criminal and never looked back. A tall, thin man with a wiry build, Townsend was a challenging adversary.

Her father had taught her to respect the enemy. Because when you got cocky you got dead. Nightshade didn’t want to die—she was still young and had too much to live for. Her old man had learned that security was an illusion and had raised Nightshade to protect both herself and those weaker than she was.

Except she’d done a piss-poor job of saving her childhood pal, Senator Ellingham’s son, Perry. At least she had evened the score by killing Townsend’s right-hand man.

She shut out everything, narrowing her focus to that dark shadow. She waited. The Glock .9 mm automatic felt like a natural extension of her arm. And then he moved, quickly and jerkily. She’d hit him earlier in their exchange of gunfire. She sprang to her feet, a lethal predator sprinting to intercept Townsend.

He pivoted as she approached, leveling his own gun at her. Still in motion, Nightshade leaped in the air and used a forward kick to hit him solidly in the shoulder. A gunshot exploded and she felt the bullet graze her thigh. She cataloged the surface wound and promised herself she’d worry about it later. It wasn’t enough to stop her as she brought all her weight down on him. His head bounced against the concrete of the landing pad.

Nightshade twisted her heel in Townsend’s shoulder until he cried out and his fingers opened, releasing his weapon. Keeping her gun trained on him, she stooped and picked up his weapon, tucking it into the back of her waistband.

Leveling the Glock at him, she watched him squirm. Killing had never really been a part of the job she liked. In fact, it was the one thing she genuinely hated. But sometimes, the mission called for it.

This time, she wanted justice for Perry’s death. She wanted to exact the kind of eye-for-an-eye retribution that her father had always advocated.

She knelt beside Townsend and pressed the barrel of the Glock against his temple. A rage swam through her body, blinding her to everything except the desire to kill. Every instinct she had screamed for her to pull the trigger. Her finger trembled and she started to squeeze.

Sweat beaded Townsend’s forehead and he shivered under her foot. She pressed the barrel harder against his skin. It would be so easy—and so hard.

“Kill me already if you’re going to.”

She almost listened to him, but at the last moment eased her finger from the trigger before her emotions could get the better of her. Killing Townsend now—like this—would make her little better than he was.

He rolled toward her, knocking her on her ass. And the tables were turned. He towered over her, a six-inch switchblade in his hand.

She fired at his shoulder. Blood spurted and ran down his hand, but he didn’t drop his weapon. She scrambled to her feet as he advanced on her, never taking her gaze from his menacing figure.

Townsend watched her with cold eyes and she knew she’d made a stupid, rookie mistake in not cuffing him when she’d had the chance. Her orders were to bring him in alive. She holstered her gun.

He feinted to the left and then attacked her with a swipe of his knife. She dodged the blow easily and countered with a front jab that connected solidly with his jaw. His head snapped back and he growled at her. And then he surprised her with a roundhouse kick to the chest. She was stunned momentarily but quickly recovered as he sprinted for the chopper.

Concentrating all her energy on ignoring the throbbing pain in her thigh, she ran after him, hitting him with a powerful kick to the side. He fell in a broken heap. His head impacted with the solid ground again. He moaned with pain. Nightshade landed with one foot on his wrist, pinning him to the ground. She stooped, grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, bringing his other hand to join it. She cuffed his hands together with a zip cord and stood.

She keyed the small radio mike attached to her collar and asked for a pickup. She watched Townsend carefully; he was much too quiet to be trusted. She heard the far-off sound of a crying baby.

She scanned the landing pad. A child? The cries grew louder and louder. What the hell?

Chapter 1

Not everyone can see the truth, but everyone can be the truth.

—Franz Kafka

Sasha Malone-Sterling sat up in bed. The scar from the 5-year-old gunshot wound on her thigh throbbed. She reached for the pillow next to hers—empty. She rolled away from that side of the bed.

No wonder she’d been dreaming again. It was the only outlet she had for excitement. At least it wasn’t one of her more erotic dreams about the time when she and Kane had been lovers. She rubbed her eyes. No, those dreams only plagued her when he was lying beside her in bed. Physically close but emotionally miles away.

She glanced at the clock next to the bed: 3:00 a.m. The television baby monitor on the nightstand showed her eighteen-month-old son, Dylan, standing in his crib crying.

She rolled out of bed and made her way to her son’s room. She didn’t bother with a robe. Wearing only the black silk long underwear she slept in, she made her way quickly down the hall.

Entering the room, she scanned the shadows for anything untoward but found only her son crying. She scooped Dylan up and cradled him to her chest, dropping butterfly kisses on his head. “Mommy’s here.”

He snuggled closer to her, rubbing his tear-stained face against her shoulder. His little arms came up to encircle her neck, holding her with a fierceness that she cherished. “Mama.”

She rubbed his back and rocked side to side, soothing her son, whose heart raced. This wasn’t the first time she’d been awakened from a dream of her former life by her son’s cries. She hoped he hadn’t picked up her tension.

Up until her pregnancy, she’d worked for American Renegade Company. They were an elite task force comprising operatives who worked hand in hand with the American government in overseas operations. Their agents were all from very wealthy backgrounds and for the most part led double lives.

Now she was a wife and mother in Leeds, England. Talk about culture shock.

The door leading from the nanny’s room opened. Though Dylan didn’t have an ordinary nanny. She’d hired a bodyguard for her son. She could protect Dylan and would with her life, but she knew that there would be times when having someone at her back would be invaluable.

Sasha pivoted to face the man entering. Orly was late. His response time had been much quicker when they’d worked in the field. But these days they were a step above rent-a-cops, doing routine security setups for domestic businesses.

Orly LaFontaine, the man who’d been her partner for years with the Agency, stumbled into the room. Orly wasn’t your typical bodyguard, and he hadn’t been your typical agent either. Sasha had saved his life in Nigeria and Orly had never forgotten it. He believed deeply that a life saved is a life earned and had dedicated himself to repaying Sasha.

He’d traded a life of intrigue to join her in this suburban house, leaving behind his trendy London flat and his women. Though his appearance tonight negated that.

His short blond hair was spiked up with blue highlights. Usually he dressed in clothes more suited to the punk rockers he’d grown up with than the business crowd they mixed with, but tonight he wore only a pair of brief boxers and lipstick smudges on his neck.

“Bloody hell, Sasha. I’m sorry,” Orly said. His accent was a rough Cockney that he let few people hear. Most people who met him believed him to be some sort of aristocratic Englishman by birth and breeding. He was a master chameleon.

Seeing her old friend pushed away the last vestiges of the tension lingering from her dream. “No problem. Looks like you’re having more fun in bed than I was.”

Orly crossed to her and patted Dylan’s head. Her son had calmed completely and was now resting peacefully in Sasha’s arms. Sometimes she wished she’d been attracted to Orly the way she was with Kane. It would have made life so much easier.

Kane was an agent for Her Majesty’s Intelligence Agency. Similar in scope to MI-6, they were a more elite team who went deep undercover, targeting enemies of the Crown. They’d met while working on a mission together four years ago.

“Sasha?”

“Sorry. I’ve got D. You can go back to her.” Orly suspected that Kane had moved out, but until Sasha confirmed it, he’d keep his questions to himself. Which was what she needed. Kane felt that she’d turned into a zombie since Dylan’s birth and she couldn’t argue that without Kane realizing her emotional distance had actually started earlier.

Orly watched her carefully with perceptive green eyes that missed no detail.

He said nothing until she’d placed Dylan in his crib. Sasha grabbed the soft fluffy panda from the bottom of the crib and tucked it next to her son. His arm tightened around the plush animal.

“He looks like you when you crash.”

“He’s drooling, Orly.”

“Hey, boss lady, I hate to tell you this, but underneath that beautiful face, you’ve got some nasty habits.”

She punched his shoulder and he laughed. Orly was one of the few people she really trusted. She knew his secrets and he knew hers. There was balance in their relationship, unlike her marriage to Kane, which was…not. She had no one to blame but herself.

“You okay?” he asked.

She crossed to the window. The night sky was clear and the half moon cast long shadows on the landscaped lawn. A breeze blew and the trees swayed lightly with it, their shadows moving across the lawn. “I’m restless.”

Orly moved to stand next to her, dropping his arm across her shoulders. “I wanna say—hot damn, this is a good thing but you don’t sound happy about this.”

“I have a son now.”

“Do you want me to find something more exciting than installing a security system for a bed-and-breakfast?”

She shrugged. She could justify many things in her mind, but endangering her son she couldn’t do. And she couldn’t be an agent and be a mother. She didn’t have an on-off switch that she could toggle from protective nurturer to avenger. “Not yet.”

She wanted to go back to her old job. But then she’d have to really find a nanny for Dylan and another bodyguard, because Orly would be with her. And she couldn’t do that. Not yet. Maybe once Dylan started school. God, what a mess. She who’d vowed to never put her life on hold for any man was torn because of two. One she’d loved too much to keep, and the other—she glanced over at her sleeping son—the other was her entire life.

A subtle beep emitted from the pager on Dylan’s dresser. Intruder. She crossed the room to the Monet Seashore painting and swung it to the left. A quick glance at the crib showed Dylan across the room, sleeping undisturbed. The lighted monitor indicated someone moving from the kitchen toward the west wing and the bedrooms.

God, it had been so long since they’d had to deal with anything like this. She wished Kane were home. Orly was good but he wasn’t Kane. And when your home was being invaded, you wanted your husband around.

“Is that your girl?” Sasha asked.

“Uh, no. She’s tied to the bed.”

“Go untie her and take Dylan with you. Hole up until I give you the signal.”

“What are you going to be doing?” he asked. She knew that he didn’t care for this any more than she did. If there was one thing she knew about her partner, it was that he hated hiding out as much as she did. But only one of them was needed to neutralize their visitor and she was the senior partner.

“Taking care of our intruder.”

“You don’t have a weapon,” he said.

“I’ll get one.”

Sasha moved silently through the house. She’d swung by her bedroom to remove the 9 mm Glock that fit her hand as if it was made for her. She wondered if her past had finally caught up with her, and felt more than a moment’s fear that she wouldn’t be able to rise to the task. Sure, she had a lifetime of training, but lately the most exciting thing she’d done was organizing a playdate with a group of moms from her neighborhood.

She trusted Kane and his security measures to protect their son. Forgetting that Nightshade had more enemies than most agents and that her husband had become a man she didn’t really know anymore.

She tucked the Glock into the holster at the small of her back. The intruder moved quickly and Sasha moved back into the shadows, waiting for him to pass her position. As soon as he did, she attacked him from behind with a side kick that connected solidly to his midsection. He countered with a sweeping roundhouse kick that caught her shoulder. Sasha stepped to the left and countered with a back-kick, front-jab combo that pushed her assailant up against the wall.

Family pictures rattled under the impact but the intruder paused, facing her. His eyes were the color of the ocean on a stormy day, though she couldn’t see them clearly in this light. Husky in build and slightly over six feet tall. In fact, he reminded her a bit of…

“Dammit, girl. Can’t a father visit his only child without it turning into a sparring match? You’re rusty, by the way,” her dad growled. Sergeant Major Mitch Malone pulled her close for a bear hug. Her old man smelled of Cuban cigars, which were the only ones he smoked. He always said that damn embargo was a foolish, political waste of time.

“Most fathers ring the doorbell. Besides, I’m retired, I’m entitled to be rusty.”

“Didn’t want to wake my grandson,” he said. He was dressed in battle fatigues and combat boots. He was armed as well with the same Colt .45 he’d carried since she’d been born.

“How’d you get here?” she asked, leading him down the hall to the kitchen.

“Military transport via Germany.”

Sasha was breathing hard and struggling not to show it. She closed her eyes for a moment as relief swamped her. She’d held her own. She wasn’t as out of shape as she’d feared she might be. She also felt that seductive rush of adrenaline that only came from facing an enemy and outsmarting him. Her father moved into the room as if he was on a recon mission.

The kitchen was big and airy and filled with shadows. She scanned the space before turning on the lights.

This didn’t bode well. She hit the intercom switch and informed Orly that the intruder had been neutralized and that the sergeant major was in the house.

“Who says I’ve been neutralized?” her dad asked.

She gave her dad a wry glance. Her father had more gray in his hair now, but otherwise he still was the toughest-looking man she’d ever seen. “I do.”

He shrugged and said in that smart-ass way of his, “I’d call it a stalemate. You weren’t exactly kicking my butt.”

She didn’t want to discuss her own failings. Taking her time getting back into shape since giving birth to Dylan had made sense. Motherhood was her chief focus now.

But the old man was right. She’d been slow and sloppy tonight; if anyone other than her dad had broken in she’d have been in big trouble.

Instead of dwelling on that, she said, “Why are you here?”

“You need to come out of retirement.”

“We’ve been over this before. I’m a wife and mother now.” Even though Kane had argued that she was too young to retire, Sasha had stood firm. She was also not sure she could keep everything balanced. Being a mom was tougher than she’d thought it would be.

“Kane needs you.”

Blood rushed in her ears and she had to sit down. Kane hadn’t really needed her. That’s one of the reasons he’d left. “What do you mean?”

No matter how she felt about her relationship, she wasn’t ready to give up on it. Though things were strained between the two of them, neither of them had left.

“Townsend has surfaced again and he’s up to his old tricks with HMIA.”

“I’m sure Kane will catch Townsend. He’s one of Her Majesty’s best men.”

“Not anymore.”

“Dad, stop talking in circles. What are you trying to say?”

“Hold up a sec then I’ll tell you.”

Pulling a small wandlike device from his back pocket, her father made a slow sweep of the room. She rolled her eyes as she watched him work. Sasha and Orly swept for bugs routinely. Her father took paranoia to new extremes. There were no bugs in her house as of three days ago.

She took no chances with the safety of this house, especially now that Kane had moved back to London. Security was one of the things she knew how to provide and she’d made their little house into a fortress to protect Dylan.

She boiled water for coffee and scooped some grounds into her French press. Orly entered the room as her father neared the third wall. He didn’t glance up from his task. Orly turned around one of the ladder-back chairs at the table and sat down.

“What’s he looking for?” Orly asked as Sasha set a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Bugs.”

Orly raised one eyebrow at her. Sasha shrugged. Orly had met her dad before in the States and had even visited his remote home in the mountains of Georgia, so watching her father in action wasn’t really shocking. “Sergeant Major, don’t you trust me to protect your daughter and grandson? This is what I do.”

“I don’t really trust anyone,” he said, focusing on the phone.

She’d never talk about her past life on the phone. In fact, she had few friends from the old days. Still, it begged the question as to why her dad thought someone was listening in on her conversations. She had a sinking feeling in her gut that had saved her ass many times in the old days. That feeling that said everything was about to break around her.

“Do you really believe that someone is fishing around for information?” Orly said.

Her dad nodded.

Sasha shivered and checked the baby monitor affixed to the kitchen counter. What was going on?

Dylan was safely tucked away in his crib. She wanted to go to the security room and ramp up all their alarms. Let her dad sweep the entire house.