Enticed By The Operative

And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Logan couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming over her, starting at her wide brown eyes and wandering down to her graceful hands, stopping to linger on everything in between. Olivia was a woman built for civilized pursuits, not the machinations of a ruthless drug cartel.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed. Seeing her here in his office, looking lost, tugged at something deep inside his chest.

“Would you feel better if I went with you?”

She grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. “I would feel better if you were with me.” Her words made him want to puff out his chest, but he controlled the urge.

“So you’ll do it?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Logan couldn’t stop a grin. Finally, they had a solid chance to bring these guys down! It was the operation of a lifetime, and he would make sure they succeeded.

Or die trying.

* * *

We hope you enjoyed a first look at a brand-new, electrifying series, Doctors in Danger!

Enticed by the

Operative

Lara Lacombe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LARA LACOMBE earned a PhD in microbiology and immunology and worked in several labs across the country before moving into the classroom. Her day job as a college science professor gives her time to pursue her other love—writing fast-paced romantic suspense with smart, nerdy heroines and dangerously attractive heroes. She loves to hear from readers! Find her on the web or contact her at laralacombewriter@gmail.com.

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For Mister, my favorite traveling companion.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Is it time for our next girls’ weekend yet?”

Olivia Sandoval couldn’t help but laugh at the plaintive note in her friend Avery’s voice. “That bad, huh?”

“I’m just ready for a break.”

Olivia moved the phone to her other ear and used her free hand to massage a kink in her neck. Avery and Mallory had been her best friends since they’d met in medical school ten years ago, and they’d all shared an apartment. They had managed to live together during their residencies, and then one by one, they had each moved away to take jobs—Avery Thatcher to Atlanta for her job at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Mallory Watkins to Los Angeles to work with a cruise ship company, and Olivia to Washington, DC, where she practiced plastic surgery. They had wildly different careers, but they were still close and made it a point to get together twice a year to catch up. Olivia looked forward to their biannual trips all year, and she knew Avery and Mallory felt the same way.

“I hear you. I bet Mallory is, too.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s a doctor on a cruise ship, for crying out loud! Her whole life is a vacation.”

“Jealous, much?”

“Yes.” Avery didn’t bother to deny it, which made Olivia smile.

“You get to travel for your job,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but not to any fun locations. I’m leaving tomorrow for a small town in Kansas. Apparently there’s some kind of respiratory thing going on there.”

“Kansas is nice,” Olivia pointed out. “Lots of friendly people.”

“But no ocean view,” Avery grumbled.

“Well, no. But there’s more to life than salt water.”

“Says the woman going to Colombia in a few weeks.”

“Hey, I’d love for you to join me. We could always use another pair of hands down there.”

“I wish I could go,” Avery said wistfully. “But I’m not a surgeon like you. I’ve spent too many years holed up in my office at the CDC—my clinical skills aren’t what they used to be. I wouldn’t be much help for you.”

“You’d be surprised,” Olivia replied. “If you remember how to do a physical, you’re halfway there. The need for basic medical care is so great, anything is better than nothing. Just think about it,” she added. “Colombia is beautiful, and it would be a great experience for you.”

Avery was silent for a moment. “I’ll sleep on it,” she said, a note of interest in her voice. “Maybe I could finagle the time off.”

A spark of excitement flared to life in Olivia’s stomach. Having one of her best friends come on her annual charity trip would be wonderful. It would be great to spend the time with Avery, and more important, having another clinician on site would really increase the number of patients they could treat during their stay. She opened her mouth to tell Avery as much when the intercom on her desk buzzed to life.

“Dr. Sandoval? Your next patient is here.”

“And that’s my cue,” Avery spoke into her ear. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sounds good. Have a safe trip.”

Olivia hung up and pressed the button on her desk. “Thanks, Carrie. Please send him in.”

“Sure thing.”

She stood, running her hand down the front of her blouse to smooth out the wrinkles. As a plastic surgeon, appearances mattered. She had to project confidence and competence, especially for a first meeting. Patients needed to see her as a calm, composed figure who could help transform their physical imperfections into assets. One of the first things they did was judge her own appearance, so she was always careful to make sure her hair and makeup looked good before every meeting.

A soft knock announced her patient’s arrival. She opened the door with a smile, ushering the man in and taking his file from Carrie, the office assistant. “Thank you,” she said softly to the other woman.

Olivia glanced at the chart before turning her attention to the man who had entered her office. Carlos Martinez. Her gaze tracked over his face as she gestured for him to take a seat. He was a few inches shorter than her, but he carried himself well. His eyes were clear and dark, and silver strands threaded through his black hair, lending him an air of sophistication. His skin had lost some elasticity due to age, and there were fine wrinkles fanning from the corners of his eyes and mouth. Face-lift, she thought automatically. A little pulling, a little stretching, and he’d look ten years younger in no time. And maybe a nose job, she added, focusing on the slight angle to his nose that hinted of a long-ago break that hadn’t healed properly.

She glanced at his body, wondering if he wanted some kind of liposuction, as well. He looked trim, but she knew from experience that a well-tailored suit like the one he was sporting could hide a multitude of sins.

“Mr. Martinez, I’m Dr. Sandoval.” She smiled as she extended her hand. His grip was firm but not painful.

“Nice to meet you.” His words carried a soft, lilting accent that told her English was not his first language. It reminded her of her father’s speech, the rolled r’s that sounded almost like a purr, the way his words strung together in a smooth rhythm. She was half-tempted to respond in Spanish, but decided against it. Spanish was the language of her family, the language of home. English helped her remember this was a business meeting and she had to keep things professional.

Olivia rounded her desk and sat, opening his file to a blank page so she could take notes. She liked to spend the first meeting talking to her patients, getting to know them and listening to what they wanted to change about their bodies. It was important that she keep their expectations realistic, especially from the beginning. A lot of people walked into her office looking like an average Joe and wanted to walk out looking like a supermodel. And although Olivia was very good at her job, some things were just not possible.

Although she didn’t love performing cosmetic procedures, it paid her bills and allowed her the freedom to pursue her true passion—helping those who truly needed plastic surgery to live a normal life. The burn patients, the children with cleft palates, the women who had suffered severe facial damage at the hands of abusive partners. She was lucky to have found a practice that allowed her to take on a lot of pro-bono work, and even better, they didn’t bat an eye when she took a month off every year to do charity work in Colombia.

She was really looking forward to her upcoming trip, but right now she needed to focus on the patient in front of her.

“What brings you to my office, Mr. Martinez?”

“I have business proposition for you.”

She lifted a brow at his unexpected reply. “I’m sorry, I thought you were here as a patient.” Had Carrie gotten her appointments mixed up? The office manager usually ran a tight ship, but everyone made mistakes.

Mr. Martinez waved a hand, as if the misunderstanding were of no consequence. “I didn’t specify when I made the appointment. I simply needed to see you.”

“Oh?” This was highly unorthodox. Olivia usually didn’t meet with potential business partners on her own—that was something all the members of the practice did together, to ensure everyone had equal input on decisions that might affect them all. “Can we reschedule this meeting so the other doctors can hear your proposal? That’s generally how we do things here.”

“There is no need,” Mr. Martinez replied smoothly. “This proposal is for your ears only.”

That was unusual. Olivia had joined the office five years ago, but she was far from being the senior doctor on staff. What could this man possibly want with her?

“All right,” she said, deciding to hear him out. His eyes held a glint that told her he was determined to say his piece. Better to listen and usher him out the door as quickly as possible so she could get on with her day.

“I understand you travel to Colombia every year, and spend a month doing pro bono work there.”

“Yes.” She leaned forward, excitement making her fingertips tingle. Did he want to donate? The medical charity she partnered with was always in need of funds for supplies, and the more money they raised, the more patients they could treat in Colombia and elsewhere in the world. The need for their services seemed to grow every year, a fact that broke her heart. “Are you interested in making a contribution?” It was a bold question, but subtlety had never been Olivia’s strong suit, especially when children in need were concerned.

“In a manner of speaking.” He spread his hands out, palms up, as if to say I’m a reasonable man.

“I have a proposal that I think will benefit both of us,” he continued.

“And what does it involve?” Would he just get to the point?

“What I am suggesting is merely that you act as a courier for my employer.”

“A courier?” Olivia felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she suppressed a shudder. The man in front of her looked polished, but his continued use of euphemisms was suspicious.

“My employer has a business arrangement with partners in Colombia, but what they lack is a reliable transporter. If you accept this offer, you will simply carry funds and once there, exchange them for product. Upon your return, you will deliver the product to me.”

Olivia leaned back, wanting to get as far away from this man as possible. He hadn’t said anything overtly incriminating, but she wasn’t stupid. Product was just a nice word for drugs. “No,” she said flatly, faking a confidence she didn’t feel. She couldn’t afford to show weakness—it was clear the man in her office had unsavory connections, and she didn’t want to be seen as a target. “I’m not interested.”

“I think you will find our offer is very generous,” Mr. Martinez replied, ignoring her words. “I know you have extensive debt, both from your medical training and your parents’ hospital bills. We can make that go away.”

Olivia felt a spike of pain at the mention of her parents. Two years ago, they had been driving home in the middle of a storm when her father had lost control of the car and slid off the road into a tree. Both her parents had been seriously hurt and had lingered in intensive care for weeks before finally succumbing to their injuries. Losing them had almost broken Olivia, but over time, her blinding grief had morphed into a determination to live a life that would make them proud. Her pro bono work in Colombia was one way she found comfort, going back to her father’s home country to help those who needed it most.

The fact that this man was asking her to corrupt the work of her heart triggered a black wave of anger in her chest. How dare he try to use the loss of her parents against her? Did he really think she was so desperate for money that she would resort to carrying drugs to pay her debts? She wanted to lash out, to scream at him to leave and then call the police to report him.

But she didn’t. Despite her swirling emotions and racing thoughts, she was very aware of the man in front of her. His gaze was locked on her, and though he appeared calm, there was a predatory gleam in his dark eyes. He looked like a snake, waiting and watching for the right time to strike. A trickle of fear skittered down her back, and she realized that she needed to tread very carefully. Something about his demeanor told her that this was not a man who accepted the word no.

“I appreciate your offer,” she said slowly, almost choking on the lie. Just get him out of here! her mind screamed. “But I don’t think I’m the right person for this job. My medical supplies are inspected both going to and coming from Colombia. I don’t see how I’d be able to bring your product back into the country without attracting the wrong kind of attention.” It was the truth, and hopefully he’d accept it.

Her heart sank when he waved away her excuse. “We have provisions in place to make sure that doesn’t happen. I assure you, this job is entirely safe. We chose you because you are the last person anyone would suspect. You have a history of travel to the region, and your reputation as a selfless healer puts you above reproach. We will ensure you receive appropriate compensation for your efforts.” Then he named a figure that sucked the breath out of her lungs. “We’ll pay you half up front, and half upon delivery of the product.”

She looked away and ran her hands down her thighs, stopping to grip her knees tightly. Did her fear show on her face? Could he tell how scared she was? She tried to keep her expression neutral, hoping she wasn’t giving anything away.

Her mind raced, scrambling for a response. Carlos was an unknown quantity, and she didn’t want to make him angry. But really, said a small, subversive voice in her head. What can he do to me? She’d already lost her parents, she had no siblings and her two best friends lived in different states. He could always hurt her, but somehow she doubted he would try that tactic. If he wanted her cooperation, she had to be healthy enough to travel. And it would take more than a few bruises to convince her to work for this man.

A strange calm settled over Olivia as she realized that she held all the power here, not the man in front of her. Yes, he worked for drug traffickers, and she watched enough news to know those were dangerous people. But he had come to her, which meant he needed her. And he had no leverage to force her to accept his offer.

She met his gaze. “No.”

He smiled, as if he’d expected this reaction. “Dr. Sandoval, I think you should reconsider.”

“No,” she repeated. “I will not be a part of your business.”

Carlos leaned back, his brows lifted in surprise. “That sounds very final.”

“It is.”

He shook his head. “In my experience, such answers never are.”

Olivia opened her mouth to reply, but he waved it off and stood. She rose as well, unwilling to let him tower over her. “It was a pleasure meeting you today. I will give you a little time to think about your answer.” He reached into his suit jacket, and Olivia froze, adrenaline making her heart kick hard against her breastbone. Oh, God, was he going to shoot her?

Carlos caught her expression and smirked. He withdrew his hand slowly and set a card on her desk. “My number,” he said. “I expect to hear from you soon.”

“You won’t.” The words sounded strangled, and she cleared her throat. “As I said, my answer is final.”

He smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “As you say.” He walked to the door and stopped, turning back. “I admire your spirit. It will serve you well.”

She held her breath until the door closed behind him, then she rocked forward until her palms landed flat against the solid weight of her desk. It’s okay, she told herself, repeating the words over and over again until she no longer felt like her heart was trying to beat out of her chest. He’s gone.

But for how long?

* * *

The rest of her day passed in a blur. Olivia tried to focus on her job, but the memory of Carlos Martinez was front and center in her mind, an unwelcome and disturbing distraction. Fortunately, she had no scheduled surgeries so her impaired attention was no danger to her patients.

She had to report him to the authorities. It was her only option. The thought of him targeting someone else, someone who might not be able to refuse his offer, weighed on her. Could she really live with herself, knowing he was free to continue hurting people?

But who should she call? Would the police help her? Or did she need to try the FBI? And how could she convince them she was telling the truth? After all, she hadn’t recorded their conversation. It was her word against his.

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself as she navigated the evening traffic. “I have to tell someone. What they do with the information is on them.” At least she’d be able to sleep at night, knowing she’d done all she could.

She’d tucked his business card and his medical file in her bag before leaving the office. When she got home, she pulled them both out and started up her computer, determined to find the number to the local police. She’d start there, and if the police didn’t take her seriously, she’d move on to the FBI or some other organization.

The doorbell rang just as she pulled up the web page for the Alexandria, Virginia, police department. Good—her dinner was here. She’d ordered takeout before leaving the office so she wouldn’t have to cobble together a sad meal of crackers and stale cheese. Grabbing her wallet, she headed for the door and glanced through the peephole. A young man stood on her stoop, holding a bag that contained her food.

Olivia opened her door with a smile and extended a hand to take the bag, holding out a few bills in payment. “Thanks,” she said, the word dying in her throat as a shadowy figure moved up the walk and into the glow cast by her porch light. She took a reflexive step back, but the delivery boy pulled on the bag, halting her progress.

Carlos Martinez stopped just behind the young man, a wry smile on his lips. “Dr. Sandoval, so good to see you again. We took the liberty of paying for your food so it wouldn’t grow cold. May we come in?”

She glanced around wildly, hoping to see lights on in the house next door. Her neighbor, Logan Murray, was a large, fit man, and if she could somehow scream loudly enough to get his attention, perhaps he could help her... But his windows were dark. She was on her own.

“No.” Her heart in her throat, Olivia dropped the bag and stepped inside. She grabbed the edge of the door and tried to slam it shut, but the young man stuck his foot in the jamb and forced his way into her house, Carlos close on his heels.

Olivia stumbled backward, trying to keep her gaze on the intruders while she got as far away as possible. A weapon, she needed a weapon—something, anything, she could use to defend herself. Her hands ran across the back of her sofa, the end table, the wall. Her fingers swept along the candles standing on the hall table, and she grabbed her mother’s silver candlestick, brandishing it like a bat. Why, oh why, had she left her cell phone next to the computer?

“Dr. Sandoval,” Carlos said, his tone disapproving. “Please. We are not here for violence. Can we not sit and have a civilized chat?”

Her throat too tight for words, Olivia shook her head.

He let out a deep sigh. “Well, then.” He made a sharp gesture with his hand, and the younger man reached behind his back and retrieved a gun that he pointed at Olivia with a confidence that made her stomach drop. Oh, God.

Carlos settled into her recliner and gestured for her to take a seat on the couch, facing him. Olivia half walked, half stumbled over, her legs gone numb with fear and her attention focused on the lethal-looking gun pointed at her head. She sank onto the sofa, gripping the candlestick so hard she thought it might snap in her hands.

“I thought we might revisit our conversation from this afternoon.”

Olivia cut her gaze to Carlos, then back to the man with the gun. “I have nothing to say to you while I’m being held at gunpoint.” Her voice wavered a bit, but she was proud of herself for getting the words out. Her fear of getting shot weighed heavy on her chest, making it so hard to breathe she felt like she was drowning. If he would just put the gun away, she might be able to actually think!

Carlos tilted his head, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying her fear, damn him! Olivia straightened her spine and clamped her mouth shut, determined not to give him any more satisfaction. After a moment, he nodded at the younger man. She refused to turn her head to look at him, but she caught movement from the corner of her eye and breathed a silent sigh of relief as he returned his gun to its hiding place.

“Now, then,” Carlos said. “As I was saying. Have you had time to reconsider my earlier offer?”

“My answer hasn’t changed,” Olivia replied. The other man moved, and she fought the urge to flinch. But he simply walked around the couch and took the rocking chair in the corner of the room, his gaze watchful. At least he wasn’t threatening her again.

Carlos merely nodded. “I thought you might say that. So I brought along some additional material for you to examine.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope, holding it out for her. She refused to take it from him, so he dropped it on the table between them and leaned back. “I think you will want to see what’s inside,” he said, with a nod at the envelope.

Keeping her eyes on the men in front of her, Olivia leaned forward and brushed the table with her fingertips, catching the edge of the paper. She reluctantly set the candlestick on the seat next to her, but really, what good was it against a gun?