“Is there something I can do for you, Agent Lama?”

Mitch seemed more muscular than before. His shoulders broader beneath the polo shirt that hugged them and the well-defined muscles of his chest. On his right arm was the tattoo that she had found undeniably sexy and dangerous when she had first discovered it. His hair was shorter, but framed the strong lines of his face better and brought attention to his eyes. Startling slate-grey eyes followed her every move.

“We need to talk, Dani.”

“Talk? You have more from Lazlo about the mission?”

He released an exasperated sigh. “It’s not about the assignment and you know it.”

What she knew was that she was torn between having him take her into his arms and kicking his backside for breaking her heart.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caridad Piñeiro was born in Havana, Cuba, and settled in the New York metropolitan area. She attended Villanova University on a Presidential Scholarship and graduated with honours. Caridad earned her Juris Doctor from St John’s University and became the first female and Latina partner of Abelman, Frayne & Schwab.

Caridad is an author whose love of the written word developed when her fifth-grade teacher assigned a project – to write a book that would be placed in a class lending library. She has been hooked on writing ever since. Articles featuring Caridad’s works have been published in various magazines and newspapers. She has appeared on Fox Television’s Good Day New York, New Jersey News’ Jersey’s Talking with Lee Leonard and WGN-TV’s Adelante Chicago. Caridad was also one of the Latina authors featured at the first-ever Spanish Pavilion at the 2000 Chicago BookExpo America. Caridad’s novels have been nominated for various readers’ and reviewers’ choice awards, including awards from Affaire de Coeur, Harlequin Books and RIO. Danger Calls was a 2005 Top 5 Read from Catalina magazine and the first book selected for Catalina’s cyber book club.

When not writing, Caridad is a mum, wife and lawyer. Caridad also teaches various writing workshops and heads a writing group at a local bookstore. For more information on Caridad’s books, contests and appearances, or to contact Caridad, please visit www.caridad.com.

Dear Reader,

When I was asked to write the story in which this heroine first appeared, More Than a Mission (May 2007), I was also asked to leave the status of “the Sparrow” in question. I was delighted! Why? Because I totally fell in love with the relationship between the two twin sisters, and because I knew there was more to Dani and the story of why she became “a world-renowned assassin.” Since writing More Than a Mission, many readers have asked whether Dani was actually dead and also, how I could redeem Dani if she had killed or aided in the death of the Prince of Silvershire. I won’t give anything away, but I hope that by the time you finish Secret Agent Reunion, you’ll understand the demons that drove Dani and sympathise with the choices she made.

Why did I choose such a hard road for Dani? I see the news every day, and the toll that drugs take on our society is immense. I wanted to make a point that even recreational drug use comes with a price you may not see – the thousands of people who die as a result of drug-related activities, much like Lizzy Bee’s and Dani’s parents. I hope you’ll enjoy not only this action-packed story, but also the romance between Mitch and Dani, since they have become two of my favourite characters.

Caridad

Secret Agent Reunion

CARIDAD PIÑEIRO

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to all my wonderful

nieces and nephews – Brendon, Deanna, Erika,

Jonathan, Lauren, Peter, and Vincent – I love

you all! You’re the best.

Chapter 1

Only someone who had come back from the dead truly knew how deadly distractions could be.

Danielle Moore had let personal feelings get in the way of a top-secret mission over a year ago and had nearly lost her life. So she kept her eyes glued to the man—six feet two inches of thick muscle—as he charged at her like a linebacker after a quarterback, arms outstretched to trap her in his embrace.

Dani used his momentum against him, sweeping him aside with a matador like step. Turning quickly as he stumbled by, she snapped an elbow to the back of his neck and dropped him to the ground. Before she could totally incapacitate him, another more compact man charged at her from the opposite side of the room.

She pushed off the first man’s fallen body and came up ready for action, but as she did so, something pulled along her midsection. A twinge of pain followed, but she tamped it down. She couldn’t allow physical discomfort or weakness to divert her attention.

As the smaller man shoved past his rising friend, she released a sharp dropkick, catching him squarely in the chest and rocking him backward, where he immediately tripped over the larger man. Both men sprawled to the ground in a messy heap.

Dani stopped, placed her hands on her hips and laughed as they tried to untangle themselves and resume their attack.

“Come on, boys. Is that the best you can do?” she teased in fluent French.

After months of training together, the three of them had developed an easy camaraderie. Even now, when the men couldn’t seem to contain Dani as her physical strength and martial arts prowess returned rapidly, they accepted her superior abilities good-naturedly.

Her current physical state was quite different from what it had been nearly three months ago, Dani thought.

After being shot and lingering in a coma off and on, she had emerged long enough to approve the removal of the bullet that had lodged precariously close to her spine. Three months after that, she had finally been well enough to begin physical therapy and try to get back into shape.

She had a new mission waiting for her, after all. At least, that’s what the enigmatic man by her bedside had intimated to her so many months ago.

Dani now knew who that mysterious angel was—Corbett Lazlo, the elusive powerhouse behind the Lazlo Group, a private agency known for handling the most discreet and sometimes dangerous of missions. A group well known to her from her time with the Secret Intelligence Service, or SIS, the British equivalent of the CIA and the agency at which she had worked as the Sparrow, a world-renowned assassin.

Only she hadn’t really been an assassin. All her supposed “kills” had been taken into SIS custody so that SIS might find out more information about an elusive crime organization they called SNAKE, which they suspected of being responsible for a number of illegal operations.

She had let her last mission get personal. Her actions had resulted in the death of the prince of Silvershire and had nearly caused her death and that of her twin sister. SIS had been less than pleased that, in her quest to find her parents’ killers, she had messed up the mission in Silvershire, the small European island kingdom she had called home at one time. With her cover as the Sparrow possibly blown and an international incident brewing, SIS had tossed her out.

Lazlo, who had also been thrown out of SIS many years earlier, was the man she had to thank for keeping her alive. He was the one responsible for the medical treatment that had worked a miracle and brought her back from the dead.

He had taken her into his agency and told her that he would let her know when the time was right for her to be reborn and go out on another mission.

She felt mission-ready now and sensed that somehow Lazlo would know that.

He seemed to know everything about everyone while she, like most of the people she had met within his group, knew little about him. To her surprise, few had even seen the elusive Mr. Lazlo.

After thanking her two sparring partners for the training session, she walked to the gym to finish her workout. She took a place at the first station and lifted the weights, evenly pushing up the bars on the bench press and enjoying the strength she had regained in her arms. Satisfied, she finished her reps and moved on to the next station and then the next. By the time she finished, her muscles trembled from her exertions, but it was a good feeling. The kind of sore that said she was getting stronger.

The kind of pain that confirmed she was still alive.

In the locker room, she peeled off her clothes and grabbed a towel, ready for a long soak in the Jacuzzi. As she passed a mirror, she stopped short, surprised by what stared back at her.

The image of a hard-bodied woman of average height was reflected in the mirror. Shoulder-length hair in need of a trim. Fine-boned shoulders leading to full breasts above a long, barely pink scar that ran down her middle. Beside the scar was the ragged, stellar-shaped wound where she had been shot during her last mission.

The physical wounds of the past year were alive in her vision, much like those in her heart, which had been there far longer. The scar of her parents’ murder. The ragged and still unhealed wound from her lover’s death barely three years ago.

Dani ran her hand down the long scar, but it was numb. Just as she was numb inside. Paralyzed. Yet she still had things to do so that might make her feel alive again.

So that she could finally go home. Go and see her twin sister, Elizabeth.

Only, as she’d heard before, she suspected that she could never truly go home again.

Lazlo agent Mitch Lama watched as Dani sparred with the two men in the gym.

Was she ready? he wondered tapping his lips with his index finger as Dani deftly handled the two much larger men.

The frailness from her injuries was gone, as was the pallor that had colored her skin for the many months she had been unconscious and battling for life. Months during which he had come to sit by her bedside, urging her to keep up the fight. Reading to her in hopes that she might hear his voice and return because they had things to settle between them.

Now she was back from the dead and he didn’t know what to do with her. What to do about the lies she had told him for so long. Lies that had nearly cost him his life and hers.

She looked strong now. Presumably ready for action.

He had always admired Dani’s physicality. Been intrigued by the strength beneath the seemingly fragile and feminine surface.

She was a warrior. A champion who was forever prepared to take up a cause and fight a wrong.

He both loved and hated her for being a hero.

For nearly three years, he had been waiting to see her. To talk to her again. To be able to touch her and have her know it was him.

To ask her why she had lied to him about who she was, even as he’d lain dying.

A loud beep came from his computer, notifying him that he had an urgent message from Corbett Lazlo. A second later, his phone rang and he had no doubt who would be on the line.

He shut down his access to the camera trained on Dani, immediately regretting the loss of her.

“Lama,” he said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice that he had been pulled away from his surveillance.

Corbett Lazlo identified himself. “Did you get my message?”

“Hold on just one second, sir, while I open it,” he said, the cadence and tone from his days in the military coloring his speech. He double-clicked to open the e-mail message Lazlo had forwarded and held his breath as he read it.

The message threatened with its simplicity.

Ready for Round 2?

“I’m assuming Cordez couldn’t track the source of this message either?” He wondered why their top computer person was having such difficulty tracing the mysterious missives.

“You’re correct. Plus, I have some other news.”

He knew the news would be bad so he preempted Lazlo’s report. “Another operative is down. I’m assuming the same MO as before?”

“Unfortunately, yes. His body was discovered not far from our Prague offices. Close-range shot to the head, just above the left ear. Hollow-point bullet. I’ve asked our various contacts to see if they have a record of any assassins with a similar MO but I suspect there may be quite a few.”

Mitch considered the facts and sensed that the moment for waiting and watching had ended. Time for him and the Sparrow to join forces and discover who was behind the messages and attacks.

“I’m assuming that you want me to activate the Lazarus Liaison now, Mr. Lazlo.”

Silence came across the line before Lazlo asked, “Do you think she’s ready?”

He recalled the sight of Dani as she sparred. “I think she’s physically ready, sir.”

“Quite the political answer. And you? Are you ready? Physically? Emotionally?”

He’d be a liar if he said “yes,” and so he provided the only answer he could.

“That remains to be seen, sir.”

Lazlo’s rare amused chuckle cut across the phone line. “Well, then. We’ll activate the Lazarus mission sometime tomorrow. Be prepared for a joint briefing with the Sparrow in the afternoon.”

He wanted to protest that it wasn’t enough time but suspected that he could never have enough time to fortify himself to see her again. To face Dani down and deal with all the issues sure to exist between them.

But he had no choice. Corbett Lazlo had saved his life and Dani’s. For that reason alone, he was honor-bound to do what Lazlo was asking of him.

He only hoped that, when it was all over, he would finally have some peace in his life.

Chapter 2

Dani stared intently at the long steps leading up to Sacre Coeur on top of Montmartre. Months earlier she had tried to climb those steps but failed, her body debilitated thanks to too much time in bed. For the past few months she’d pushed herself by making each day’s walk longer than the one before. Her hikes eventually brought her back to the bottom of these steps, but she had never felt strong enough to make the climb.

Until today.

She began slowly, pacing herself in the August heat, but about halfway up she knew.

She increased her pace and although she was slightly winded at the top, she made it. For a Rocky-like moment, she wanted to pump her arms in the air and jump around, but contained herself. She didn’t want people to look at her and think, Crazy Tourist.

Instead, Dani glanced at Paris, laid out before her in all its splendor. From high up on Montmartre, most of the city and the Seine were visible on the clear summer day.

She paused to enjoy the sight for only a moment, knowing that she had not only pushed her physical limits, but that she had stretched the boundaries of how long she had been away from the Lazlo medical compound. The beep that sounded at her side a second later confirmed it.

Grabbing her cell phone, she read the text message—her presence was demanded back at the compound immediately. Mr. Lazlo wanted to meet with her.

It would take her time to walk back, and she sensed from the curtness of the message that she shouldn’t dawdle. Texting back that she would be there within the half hour, she rushed back down the steps and walked to one of the side streets until she hit a main thoroughfare, where she quickly snagged a cab.

In French as flawless as her English, she asked to be taken to the Louvre and then she held on as the cab sped off, weaving through traffic and the assorted circles at a breakneck pace. When the cabbie stopped with a screech before the museum in record time, she mumbled a thanks to God for arriving in one piece and paid the man.

Racing past the pyramid, she walked to the bridge near the Seine, down the stairs to the riverbank and hurried to the metal grate beneath the bridge. Once she felt confident that it was secure, she used a specially encoded magnetic card to enter the tunnel and rushed toward the elevator to the Lazlo medical compound. After clearing the palm print and retinal scan, she proceeded to the main level of the compound where Jacques, the larger of her two sparring partners, waited for her.

“Mr. Lazlo asked me to bring you to his conference room as soon as you arrived,” Jacques said in French with a polite bow.

“Of course,” she replied and followed Jacques to a wing of the compound she had yet to enter, wondering about the elusive Mr. Lazlo, whom she had met only once.

As he stopped at a door, Jacques placed his palm on another reader and with the same almost silent whoosh, opened the portal. “We’ve coded this door to allow you entry as well,” he added as he motioned for her to enter.

“Merci,” she said and walked in, expecting him to follow her into the lushly appointed conference room. Instead, the door closed silently behind her, leaving her alone in the space.

A large mahogany table filled the center of the area. Three of the walls were lined with matching bookcases, ornately trimmed with hand-worked moldings and filled with expensively bound leather volumes. An exceptionally large plasma monitor was mounted on one wall, and as she walked farther into the space, the lights dimmed slightly and the monitor snapped to life.

“Good afternoon, Dani. I trust you enjoyed your stroll this morning.” The voice came from a speaker phone in the center of the table.

Dani had heard the voice only about a half dozen times since that one fateful meeting by her hospital bedside, but it was familiar enough for her to recognize.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lazlo. Given your message, I had hoped to be meeting with you in person,” she said as she strolled around the room, searching for whatever kind of surveillance equipment was being used to keep an eye on her.

“In time. But for now there is a matter of some urgency that requires your attention. That is, if you’re ready for a mission.”

“Not that I’ve minded your hospitality, Mr. Lazlo, but for months now I’ve been trying very hard to understand why you would want me to work for you.” As she spoke, Dani walked around the room, searching for the location of the hidden camera.

“I know what it’s like when SIS turns its back on you. I used to be one of them.” A dead tone filled his voice at the admission, causing a sympathetic sensation within her. She still felt dead inside.

“I’m surprised you feel you can rely on me. My instincts have been rather bad lately.”

“You believed the prince when he said he wasn’t using drugs anymore, correct?”

Dani dredged up the memories of that night from her last mission. Normally she would have turned over the prince and the man who had hired her to kill him—Silas Donovan—to SIS to handle, but Donovan had dangled an intriguing bit of info before her. Donovan had insisted that the prince knew who had murdered her parents nearly a decade earlier.

Dani had wanted that information badly. So badly that she had put her personal quest above the SIS mission.

“Dani?” Lazlo prompted at her prolonged silence.

“I didn’t think the prince would use the tainted cocaine I left behind that night,” she finally admitted, still feeling guilty that she had played a part in Prince Reginald’s death. She had believed he was clean and had hoped that having seen the error of his ways, he would reveal the names of those who had sold him drugs and possibly killed her parents.

She walked to the front of the room and paused before the plasma monitor. As she tracked her gaze along the sides of the bookcase beside it, she caught a telltale glint, almost like a speck of glitter against the dark wood. As she raised her finger to cover what she suspected was a fiber-optic camera, the image of her doing so appeared in the large monitor.

“Your admission of that is a good start. So, are you ready for an assignment?” Lazlo pressed again.

She nodded, and Lazlo began his report. “I need you to concentrate on the data I’m about to provide.”

With a curt bob of her head to acknowledge the request, Dani seated herself at the table in a comfy leather library chair. Immediately, a picture of Silas Donovan came onto the screen.

“You’re aware that Mr. Donovan paid them to assassinate the prince so Donovan’s nephew could instead inherit the throne of the European principality of Silvershire.”

As her gaze locked with that of the man in the photo, she remembered those cold eyes staring at her from behind his ski mask as Donovan had stood by, waiting for her to die after he had shot her. “Tell me something I don’t know, Mr. Lazlo.”

“We believe someone at SIS, or possibly even someone highly placed in the government sector with access to SIS, leaked information about you to the crime syndicate you were sent to infiltrate.”

Dani considered his comment but shook her head in denial. “You think someone official blew my cover as the Sparrow?”

“It makes sense that once the syndicate knew you were SIS and knew your family history, they would naturally ask you to take on the job for Mr. Donovan. They knew you had a score to settle about your parents.”

“And then they revealed my personal information to Donovan so he would eliminate me after I’d done all the dirty work? That’s quite convoluted.”

“Quite, my dear. But once your cover was blown, the crime bosses needed you gone and Donovan most likely wanted you silenced so you couldn’t reveal his role in the prince’s death.”

Dani mentally ran through all that had happened and unfortunately, the facts supported the unlikely scenario. Painfully, she acknowledged that she had possibly been betrayed by one of her own.

“What does all of this have to do with the mission you want me to undertake?”

“There have been a series of recent incidents—”

“What kind of incidents?” she challenged, annoyed by the obtuseness of Lazlo’s comments—until a series of photos flashed onto the monitor and Lazlo identified each of his murdered operatives.

“The last two have a similar MO—a close range shot to the head, just above the left ear, with a hollow-point bullet.”

“The killer is issuing a challenge to you that he can get close anytime he’d like,” Dani advised. “So that makes three operatives down in less than two months. Quite a personal attack on the Lazlo Group.”

“More than you can imagine,” he said in a way that raised the hackles on the back of her neck.

“We believe the first incident—which actually would make it four operatives attacked—may have occurred nearly three years ago. Different MO from all three of these kills, but the goal was the same—to disrupt an important Lazlo Group operation.”

“Which was?” Dani asked, although in her gut she suspected what Lazlo would say even before he spoke or flashed the smiling picture of her dead lover up on the screen.

“Mitchell Lama. On assignment in Rome when he was knifed by a courier working for the syndicate. The courier you later turned over to your handler at SIS, but reported as killed to your contact at the crime organization.”

Anger erupted within her, creating a chill in her gut. A chill that would only be removed by finding out who had set Mitch up and by making sure they were punished. Fighting off the violence that rose in her, because she knew she couldn’t let it get personal again, she jumped out of the chair and stalked to one side of the room, hopefully out of range of the ever- intrusive camera.

“All roads lead to Rome, my dear. It’s where these troubles possibly began. I need you to work with another Lazlo operative to find the SIS leak. We believe the information from that SIS leak is being used against the Lazlo Group.”

“I’ll find the leak, Mr. Lazlo. So who is this operative you want me to partner with?” she said, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as she struggled to contain herself.

The door whooshed open behind her, and she faced the tall, broad-shouldered man who entered.

She went completely still. Then a cold pit of rage formed in her gut. The numbness that had filled her center for months was swiftly replaced with a tight knot of pain.

She walked up to Mitchell Lama and punched him, snapping his head back with the force of her blow.

“You son of a bitch. You’re not dead.”

Chapter 3

Mitch was not about to let Dani land the second blow. He encircled her fist, stopping her jab mid-swing and, for good measure, snared her other hand. Not that his actions would necessarily stop Dani if she wanted to exact additional punishment. He’d seen her in action and knew she could hurt him if she still desired.

But she didn’t desire more, it seemed.

Instead, she rose up on tiptoe and whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Why? It seemed like such a simple question and yet…

“I lay dying in your arms and you couldn’t confess the truth.” His tones were low in the hope that the assorted bugs in the room wouldn’t pick up the exchange.

“The truth? That I was the Sparrow? We worked too hard to manufacture that identity, no matter how much I wanted to tell you the truth,” she shot back, inching higher on her tiptoes to get right up in his face and hiss the words.

“The truth is that your actions led to the death of Prince Reginald and nearly got my old partner and your sister killed,” he replied calmly, anger at the deception she had perpetrated for the year that they had been lovers making him want to hurt her the way she had hurt him.

In front of his eyes her spirit deflated. She yanked her wrists from his grasp and stalked back to the table, where she plopped into one of the leather library chairs. It creaked and rocked for a second before she stilled its motion and said in a much louder voice, “You can’t expect Mitch…Agent Lama and I to carry out this mission. We can’t work—”

“You can, Dani. You have no choice. SIS believes that both you and Mr. Lama are dead. You’ve fallen off their radar, and so…”

“You basically have two highly experienced agents with new identities that no one will be expecting,” Mitch confirmed. He walked to the table and took a seat opposite Dani.

“Exactly. Like Lazarus, the two of you are risen again for this assignment. After it is completed, I will assist you so that you may do whatever you want. For now, however, I need you to find out who is behind these attacks,” Lazlo said, and since they apparently had no say, he continued with his report on the background of the operation.

“As I mentioned, all these troubles appear to have started in Rome. After recovering from his wounds, Agent Lama indicated to me that he had suspicions that someone within our group was also possibly leaking information.”

Dani shot Mitch a quick glance, then looked at the speaker as she asked Lazlo, “Why the suspicions?”

Irritation made Mitch snap. “I am here, you know. You can ask me.”

Dani faced him and laid her hands on the surface of the table. “So, Agent Lama. What clued you to a possible problem within your organization?”

“Besides getting gutted?”

Her fingers tensed on the tabletop, and a frown flashed across her features before she restrained her emotions. Had it possibly been concern he had seen for a moment? he thought before he continued.

“My partner, Aidan Spaulding, and I had been trailing Kruger, who your crime organization—”

“SNAKE,” Dani jumped in.

“SNAKE?” Mitch asked, confused by the name.

A wry smile swept across her full mobile lips as Dani replied. “Sorry. It’s an inside joke at SIS. We called them SNAKE for short—Syndicate of Nasties, Assassins, Killers and Evildoers.”

“So, that old SNAKE acronym is still alive and well?” Lazlo asked. “In my day it stood for something else. I assume it still refers to the old Dumont family group?”

Mitch also chuckled. “SNAKE. I like it. Who are the Dumonts?”

“We believe Maximilian Dumont ran the crime organization for years. He recently passed away and we’re not sure who is calling the shots now. My job was to infiltrate and identify the current power, plus try to get the goods on them,” Dani explained.

“SNAKE and the Dumont family go way back,” Lazlo said. “I had a run-in with the family years ago. With the son and daughter.”

With a nod, Mitch continued with his earlier explanation. “SoAidan and I were trailing Kruger—the SNAKE courier—because a Lazlo client believed that his competition was illegally selling conflicts diamonds, which Kruger was transporting. We reported Kruger’s location to Lazlo. When we went to take him, however, Kruger was already on the run.”

“Someone from SNAKE gave me his location. SNAKE hired the Sparrow to eliminate him because he’d ripped off one of their clients,” Dani added, surmising that Kruger’s whereabouts had come courtesy of the Lazlo Group leak.

Mitch didn’t need to say that it had also allowed Dani to find him in one of the side streets leading away from Kruger’s hideout after he had been knifed and left for dead.

“SNAKE’s knowledge of Kruger’s location just supports Agent Lama’s theory that someone in our group may have leaked the information either to SNAKE directly or to someone at SIS. It’s possible the Lazlo leak also provided information related to the Silvershire affair as well,” Lazlo jumped in. “I can see already that bringing the two of you together will be quite helpful in discovering what’s going on.”

“We need to somehow interrogate Kruger,” Dani said, and Mitch agreed with a nod.

“That may be difficult. First of all, everyone believes you’re both dead and I don’t want to reveal your existence at this time. Second, SIS may not be willing to allow anyone from our organization to interview him.”

“Kruger is Ground Zero as far as we know, Corbett. If we can identify his contacts over the course of those few days, we may be able to determine who was feeding him information,” Mitch advised and watched as Dani seconded his assertion with a quick bob of her head.

“Mitch and I can assume different identities for the briefing. Plus I’m sure that a man with your connections can arrange for a short interrogation,” Dani added, her tones saccharine.

Silence came across the speaker. Then, “You and Elizabeth are quite alike, Dani. She said much the same thing to me some time ago. I’ll see what I can do.”

The plasma monitor shut off as did the phone connection, leaving Mitch staring at Dani across the width of the conference room table. It might be only four feet, but he knew that the chasm between them was much greater than that.

“Are you prepared to work on this assignment together?” he asked, unable to read much into her body language and facial expression.

Dani slowly rose from the chair, her gaze trained on him as if she was actually contemplating refusing the mission. But then her green eyes darkened, and a grim smile came to her face.

“I let something personal interfere with my assignment once before. It not only nearly cost me my life, but my sister’s. I won’t let that happen again.”

Mitch didn’t know how to react to the statement. That there was still something personal between them—something that could still bother her—was clear. That she thought she could shove it aside rankled.

What bothered him the most, however, was that he still cared what she thought and how she felt after her year of lies. After discovering, as he had lain dying, that she was the Sparrow.

Needing to build his own defenses, he nodded and slouched back in his chair, trying to seem disinterested as he said, “Who says anyone wants it to get personal again?”

Miserable, cold-hearted bastard, Dani repeated with each jab, punch and kick as she pounded the heavy bag in the gym, working out her frustration over the earlier meeting with Mitch.

Miserable, deceiving, alive son of a bitch, she thought, as with a final punch, she sank down onto the mat and leaned against the wall. Bringing her knees up tightly to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, buried her head there and began to weep.

Mitch was alive.

How many times in the three years since his “death” had she wished for just that thing? Wished that they might have had a chance at a life together? A life without SNAKE and guns and violence and death.

How many times had she pictured the two of them, living in Leonia in a home near her sister, Elizabeth, whom she fondly called Lizzy Bee. Children running around them along the gardens and shore much as she and her sister had done before their parents’ deaths.

She wasn’t sure such a life was possible for her now. Maybe it never had been, she thought, and swiped at a tear only to scratch the skin of her cheek with the exposed edge of the Velcro along the wrist of the boxing gloves she still wore.

She snagged the edge of the glove’s wrist-wrap with her teeth while drawing a shuddering breath and pulled it open. Then, she tucked the glove under her arm and removed its partner.

As she stood she swiped the remnants of the tears staining her face and vowed not to cry again over the things she couldn’t change. Tears hadn’t brought back her parents. They hadn’t brought back Mitch….

Well, at least they hadn’t brought back Mitch during the three years when she had cried for him regularly. But now…

The door to the training room opened, and Mitch walked in.

Dani hurriedly dashed away the last of her tears, turned and executed a series of bare-handed blows against the heavy bag, although not as powerfully as before due to the absence of the gloves. The last thing she needed was to break something, she thought, watching Mitch’s approach from the corner of her eye.

When he stood about a foot away, hands tucked into the pockets of his tight jeans, she asked, “Is there something I can do for you, Agent Lama?”

She never broke the rhythm of her routine, nor directly faced him, and yet there wasn’t a thing about him that didn’t register.

He seemed more muscular than he had before. Bigger. His shoulders broader beneath the polo shirt that hugged them and the well-defined muscles of his chest. On his right arm was the intricate tribal tattoo that she had found undeniably sexy and dangerous when she had first discovered it beneath the elegant suits and clothing that Mitch generally wore.

His hair was a trifle shorter around his ears, but longer up top and stylishly gelled into slightly punkish spikes that brought out the sun-streaked highlights mixed in with the brown.

Again, not as elegant as the haircut she had known him to wear, but she liked this one more—it framed the strong lines of his face better and brought attention to his eyes. Startling slate-gray eyes that were following her every move and darkening with what she suspected was annoyance.

“We need to talk, Dani.”

“Talk?” She shot the bag a punch, slightly harder than the ones before, and faced him. “You have more from Lazlo about the mission?”

Mitch released an exasperated sigh. “It’s not about the assignment and you know it.”

What she knew was that she was torn between easing against him and having him take her into his arms and kicking his ass for breaking her heart.

She did neither.

Instead, she crossed her arms and inched her chin up a bit—not that by doing so she would make much of an impact. At six-foot three, Mitch had quite some inches on her average height as well as at least one hundred pounds more of muscle.

“I believe that you said you didn’t want it to get personal again, Agent Lama.”

“I don’t,” he replied curtly and then dragged a hand through his hair, making the spikes even more pronounced.

Pulling one hand from his pocket, he held it out palm up in a pleading gesture and leaned toward her to emphasize his point. “There’s a lot that went on between us. Some good. Some very good. But a lot really bad as well.”

Truthful, if not a bit blunt, Dani thought as Mitch went on.

“Whatever it was is in the past. Now we’re partners. I need to be able to trust you to watch my back. You probably need the same from me.”

A reasonable request, and even though what she was feeling toward him right now was major dislike, possibly bordering on hate for his deception, she had always intended to watch his back. That he had thought otherwise just added to her pique.

“I’m a professional, Mitch. Like it or not, you are my partner. I will guard your back, and I expect that you will guard mine.”

He straightened away from her then and tucked his hand back into his pocket. With a shrug of those broad, thickly muscled shoulders, he said, “Right.”

He stood there for a few seconds more, seemingly unsure of what to do next, until he yanked his hand back out of his pocket and thrust it out to her, as if to seal the deal.

“So, then, we’re partners,” he said, and, at her delay, gave a little shake of his hand as if to urge her on.

She looked at that hand and then up to his face, where myriad emotions played across his normally neutral features. Neutral because, as secret agent types, they couldn’t afford to allow their emotions to show to the enemy.

But as she shook his hand, his emotions were clearly etched on his face for her to see. Confusion. Regret. Desire, banked well behind the other two.

The handshake that lasted longer than it should have confirmed the final emotion wasn’t just on his part, and they both abruptly pulled away from the handshake.

Dani rubbed her palm and the back of her hand, almost as if she could wipe away the remnants of the one disturbing emotion that had been communicated with a simple handshake. With a curt bob of her head, she confirmed the agreement. “Partners, but that’s it.” She tucked her chin down and walked out of the gym.

Chapter 4

Troy Dumont sat back in his chair and took a sip of the Johnnie Walker Blue in his glass. The taste of the scotch was smooth but with some bite as if to remind him that it was older than he was.

Months shy of twenty, he had nevertheless seen more of the world than most others his age. Done more than most, including killing a man. How else did you learn to run one of the world’s largest crime syndicates if not by getting your hands dirty every now and then?

Although he had never met his grandfather, Maximilian Dumont, he hoped that he had inherited some strength from the man who had gone from being a mercenary to building a worldwide empire of assassins, gun smugglers and other assorted criminals.

Troy wanted to show his mother, who had inherited control of the syndicate after her brother’s and father’s deaths, that he could one day run their organization as well.

Taking another sip, he considered his mother as she paced back and forth while talking on the phone. A very important call had come in from one of their informants, interrupting their after-dinner conversation.

Annoyance flared through him at how often work pulled his mother away. How, for most of their lives together, one thing or another had always managed to interfere—although he understood just how much control was necessary to maintain power over such a vast network of bad asses. Control that his family kept in a number of ways, including elimination of anyone who got in the way—like Corbett Lazlo and his annoying band of do-gooders.

In the past few months his mother had grown more determined, almost fanatically so, to rid herself of the Lazlo Group. Lazlo’s well-known agency had been a thorn in their side for quite some time, but lately, the Lazlo Group activities had managed to create even more problems for them. He didn’t think the Lazlo Group had been smart enough to figure out the various sources of the Dumonts’ illegal gains, but recently they had unwittingly slowed the flow of money from different Dumonts’ illegal. gains, but recently they had unwittingly slowed the flow of money from different operations.

“Fils de pute,” his mother, Cassandra, nearly screeched and he shifted forward in his chair, determined to find out what had set her off.

“Find out what Lazlo wants with Kruger and where he’s taking him,” she said as she reached one end of the room and whirled, then paced back to the other side, her long legs carrying her back and forth swiftly. Her slender body vibrated with anger.

“I don’t care how difficult it will be. You’re well paid to get this information for us.” Her French accent intensified in tandem with her anger.

Her green eyes narrowed to tight slits as she shot him a glance. Realizing she had her son’s full attention, she sent him an apologetic smile.

As the person on the other end of the conversation signed off, she snapped the cell phone shut, dragged a hand through the long, wavy strands of her auburn hair and walked toward him, the lines of her body elegant. Graceful. Dangerous.

“Je suis si désolée, chéri. Something unexpected came up.” She cradled his jaw and stroked the line of it, her hand smooth against his skin. A mother’s gentle touch.

He leaned into it and covered her hand with his, needy for her affection. She was all he had in the world, having never known the rest of his family. Grandfather. Uncle. Father. All dead before he could meet them. “It’s fine, Maman. I just wish…”

Troy didn’t have to finish. Cassandra seemed to know just what he wanted.

“Once this is done, mon fils, we’ll have more time together.”

He had heard her say it before, and, in general, she had kept her promises to him. For as long as he could remember, she had juggled the demands of the syndicate with those of motherhood in order to give him her attention.

When he had become old enough to learn about the business, she had begun to teach him much as her father had taught her and her brother.

Corbett Lazlo had been responsible for his uncle’s death, and so he could understand his mother’s current desire to see the Lazlo Group suffer. In their world, payback was common. Almost demanded. You didn’t survive if you let others tread all over you.

But this ongoing vendetta with Corbett Lazlo was getting…tiring.

“You’re losing sight of the bigger picture when it comes to Lazlo.”

She pulled her hand away and walked to the bar, poured herself a drink. When she sashayed back toward him, she said, “You can’t understand—”

“I know he killed your brother.” He downed the last of the scotch, wincing as the burn worked down his throat.

His mother sipped her drink and considered him over the rim of her glass before she said, “It’s more complicated than that.”

He shot to the edge of his chair, placed his hand on her arm and applied gentle pressure to lower her glass. “So tell me why you want to hurt Lazlo so badly.”

“He’s disrupted our financing.”

“Merde. You sent the Sparrow after Kruger because he was stealing from us. We needed a new courier anyway.”

“That operative in Prague—”

“Would have taken forever to figure out how that organization was funneling us the money. This is about something else.” But as his gaze met his mother’s, he realized she was not about to reveal what drove her lately. What had been compelling her for the past three years and invading their time.

“When you’re ready, Maman. I’m sure you’d tell me if it was something I should know.”

“I would, mon coeur,” she said. She cradled his cheek again and leaned forward, kissed his forehead. “I promise you, Troy. This has nothing to do with you.”

When Dani had been an agent with SIS, they had footed the bill for an apartment in Rome close to the Villa Borghese. It had been home base for her when she wasn’t traveling the world, capturing bad guys in her disguise as the Sparrow. During her non-spy times, she would “work” at the offices of a financial services company located not far from the Coliseum. The company provided a front for the local SIS headquarters and agents.

She had met Mitch years earlier at a bar not far from those offices. The attraction had been physical at first. Mitch’s size and good looks had immediately snagged her attention. But after a few hours in his company, she had liked his humor and forthrightness.

During the dates that followed whenever he was in Rome, Mitch had mentioned that he worked for a private investigations firm and needing to be careful, she had used her SIS connections to confirm that he was employed by the Lazlo Group. She had also seen his military records and realized that behind the good looks and elegant clothing was a bona fide hero. Not that Mitch had ever bragged about his Silver Star or Purple Heart.

For the next year, she had come to learn more about the complex man he was and had fallen in love.

Now they were back in Rome together, but the Lazlo Group had decided she and Mitch would stay a good distance away from either of her old locations as well as the Lazlo Group office while they were on their mission.

The Albergo Santa Carmela hid on a small street in Rome’s Trastevere section, painfully close to the spot where she had found Mitch bleeding to death nearly three years earlier. One part of her didn’t understand why someone would chose a location bound to stir the emotional pot for both her and Mitch. Another part of her—the spy part—acknowledged that as a base of operations, the tiny hotel was close to perfect.

The street on which it was located had defied discovery even to locals, and the hotel boasted only twenty rooms, all on one floor and opening into a central courtyard. Easy to secure and with quick access for escape. If there was anything that made the hotel not perfect, it was the rather solicitous and eager staff, who had too many questions and paid too much attention to the supposed newlyweds checking in for a two-week stay.

Dani pasted a smile on her face as Mitch encircled her waist and with a playful wink, confirmed their status to the older woman behind the front desk. “Yes, that’s right. We’re on our honeymoon, so I hope you’ll understand if the Do Not Disturb sign is on the door often.”

The woman tittered and handed Mitch two keys for the room. “Non lei disturbano, mai you do not want to miss seeing la citta eterna,” the clerk replied, wagging a pudgy finger in emphasis.

Mitch friskily jostled Dani before bending his head and nuzzling her cheek. “Oh, we’ll see the la citta eventually.”

What she wanted to do was give him a shot to the ribs, but decided a different punishment would be better. She turned and whispered against his lips, “Eventually, amore,” and kissed him to shut him up.

Like most rash actions, it backfired on her as Mitch returned the kiss, leaving no doubt about just how well he could kiss and how it still affected her. She was soon clinging to his shoulders and opening her mouth against his until the excited squeal of the hotel clerk ripped them apart.

“Il amore will soon have the bambini for you.”

Mitch coughed and shifted back a bit from her. “Not yet, signora. I’m not ready to share my wife with anyone.”

The look he shot her made her pulse race, but she tamped down her unwanted desire. Taking the keys from the surface of the front desk, she motioned with them to one of the side exits. “The room is…”

“A la sinestra,” the clerk advised.

“Grazie, signora,” she said and quickly turned left toward the room, wheeling behind her the modest-sized bag with her clothes and equipment. Mitch followed, a decidedly bigger suitcase trailing behind him.

Dani had chuckled when she had first seen the bag, which confirmed to her that Mitch’s status as clotheshorse was intact. When they’d been together, no matter where they went or what the occasion, Mitch had always been sartorially splendid.

So unlike her usual dress when she had worked for SIS. At her home base, she kept to staid, dark business suits and mannish tailored shirts, which fit her cover as a financial services advisor. While on a mission as the Sparrow, she would tone down her appearance even further, going so far as to wash a dark brown rinse into her hair to kill the auburn highlights. The clothes she wore while on an assignment were likewise dark and drab so as to not attract attention.

It had been that lack of color combined with the calling card she left behind at her “kills”—a small bundle of feathers tied together with black ribbon—that had earned her the moniker of the Sparrow. The manufactured identity and faked assassinations had allowed her to infiltrate SNAKE, but only for a few jobs and not deeply enough to confirm who was behind the group, despite SIS’s belief that the Dumonts were the masterminds of the organization.

When they entered the room, a large fruit-and-cheese basket and a bottle of wine sat on a long table to one side of the space. Dani walked over and pulled a card from the gift, smiled as she saw who it was from.

“Your Uncle Corbett wishes us the best on our honeymoon.”

Mitch came to her side and took the card from her hand. “My uncle is such a thoughtful guy,” he said with a grin.

Dani carefully unwrapped the cellophane from the basket, just in case it wasn’t really from the Lazlo Group, but as she did so, Mitch leaned in close yet again. Too close.

“Honey, do you mind if I check my e-mails while you unpack?”

She glared at him as possibly an annoyed newlywed wife would, although she realized what he really planned to do. “Promise me this will be the last time, sweetie. It is our honeymoon, after all.”

“Promise.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. She shot him what she hoped would look like a playful nudge if anyone was actually watching them.

Mitch pulled a PDA from a case on his belt and while seemingly reading his e-mails, slowly paced around the room, checking it for bugs the way any good agent would. Especially in a case like this, where they didn’t know who in their organization might be working against them.

Dani watched him out of the corner of her eye as she examined the fruit basket. The top was, as expected, a collection of luscious fruits—peaches, figs, pears and grapes. The fruit, however, rested on some kind of platform in the basket. She wouldn’t pull it out to examine what was beneath until Mitch had cleared the room.

“Almost done, sweetcheeks? I’m ready to check out this nice bed,” she said, the tones of her voice sultry. As if to prove her need, she took a running step toward the king-sized bed in the middle of the room and launched herself onto its surface.

Mitch swung the modified PDA around one last time, but the unit didn’t register that there were any listening devices or cameras in the hotel room. It was clear. He turned his attention to the bed. Dani rolled around on its surface, doing a fair imitation of a flounder out of water rather than a needy newlywed. Not that that kept him from imagining just how things might be if she were ready for him.

Like she had been after that kiss at the front desk.

He had promised her to not make it personal. To keep to just being partners, but sweet Lord, he hadn’t expected it would be so damn difficult so damn fast.

He had forgotten just how Dani could affect him, even when she was being a total boob as she was now.

Which only made him want her more. It had been the same way when he had first met her nearly four years ago. He’d been intrigued by her bravado when she had approached him. Drawn by her beauty. But what had made him fall in love with her had been her complex nature—the mysterious side, which hid secrets behind her intense green eyes, and the goofy one she was now exhibiting as she flopped around on the bed’s surface.

Walking over to the bed, he stared down at her, a smile on his face. She met his gaze and stopped her movement. “Everything okay?”

He could have lied and jumped her bones on the bed. Taken the moment to sample another kiss and the enticing press of her body against his.

But he couldn’t do it. It would only cause more problems between them, and resurrecting old passions was the last thing either of them needed. When this mission was done, they had to go their separate ways. Like Lazarus, they might have both risen from the dead, but that didn’t mean their love had also come back to life. How could it, when it had been a love based on deception—on both their parts.

“All clear.”

At his comment, she flew from the bed back to the fruit basket, confusing him until she lifted out the fruit.

He approached, and they both looked down into the bowl of the basket, which was filled with DVDs and a portable USB drive. Judging from its size, one that could hold hundreds of gigabytes. He reached for one of the DVDs, but at the same time, his PDA rang.

The caller ID didn’t list who it was, but both he and Dani knew.

“Good morning, Mr. Lazlo.”

“Good morning, Mitch. I trust you and Dani had a nice flight on the corporate jet. Are the accommodations to your liking?” Lazlo said, the tones of his voice smooth.

Mitch glanced around the room, assessing it. It was comfortably appointed with a king-sized bed that was possible for him and Dani to share without making contact. The table and chairs on one side of the room would give them somewhere to work and the door and windows to the courtyard provided a clear view of anyone coming and going. Possibly problematic, although it did afford a way for a fast exit as well.

As he met Dani’s gaze, he noted her inquisitive look and said, “Mr. Lazlo, I’m going to put you on speaker so Dani can hear you.”

With that, he hit a button and laid the modified PDA on the tabletop.

“Good morning, Dani. I trust you liked the little gift I sent.”

“Luscious, Uncle Corbett. I assume the DVDs and disk contain some information you would like us to review?” Dani reached in and took out the slim jewel cases, shuffling through them to examine their labels.

“Cordez had her staff gather some additional information for you. There are surveillance videos of the areas where the agents were killed. Their backgrounds and other information about what they were working on. The hard drive contains their case files, along with full reports on Randy Kruger. His past activities and connections,” Lazlo said, and Mitch met Dani’s questioning gaze.

“That’s a lot of information to review before we see—”

Lazlo cut him off. “We would have provided this to you in Paris, but I had been advised by my SIS contact that Kruger would immediately be available and time wouldn’t allow it.”

“And now?” Dani asked as she removed the portable hard drive from the basket, set it next to the DVDs and then rearranged the fruit in the basket.

An uneasy cough came from Lazlo before he said, “It appears it will take at least another day to make Kruger available. There’s interference from someone higher up at SIS. Possibly one of the deputy directors.”

“Do you know who’s causing the problem?” Dani asked and moved the basket to one side of the table so they would have a clear area for setting up their equipment.

“No, I don’t, but I suspect the reasons are more personal than professional. I didn’t keep many friends after my stint at SIS,” Lazlo said.

Mitch braced one hand against the table as he asked, “So it may not be possible—”

“It will. Much as some of my old friends might not like it, I will get access to Kruger. It may take longer, but I trust you two have enough to keep you occupied until then.”

Mitch glanced down at the DVDs and disk, but then his gaze swept to the bed and back, as did Dani’s. When she finally looked up at him, worry had crept into her features. He sought to dispel it. “We’re professionals, Corbett. We know what we need to do.”

“Good, lad. You have access to our headquarters in Rome if you need anything else. As soon as Kruger is available, I will be in touch.”

The click over the PDA speaker was followed by dead air.

Mitch slipped the PDA back onto his belt and glanced at Dani.

“So, what do you want to do first?” she asked.

He walked to the door and removed the Do Not Disturb sign from the knob. With a grin, he slipped the sign on the exterior knob, then closed the door and faced her.

“We do what’s expected of any newlyweds, right?”

Chapter 5

Dani’s gaze skittered from Mitch to the bed and back to Mitch again. Then she understood he was just kidding. For a moment she had thought he might be serious.

Seemingly well aware that he’d pushed her buttons, he shot her a knowing grin. He walked over and motioned to the table. “Want to set up the equipment here?”

“It’s as good a place as any.” She whirled from him quickly, wanting to hide the flush of color heating her cheeks. Grabbing her bag, she tossed it on the bed and immediately unpacked, removing her drab-colored clothes, short black wig and toiletries and efficiently stowing them away so she could get to the laptop and other equipment she had secured beneath the soft goods.

Mitch did the same. As she’d suspected, his bag held a greater assortment of clothing, so by the time she had her equipment assembled on the table, he had only just reached the section in his bag that held his computer and the supplies they had agreed to bring with them.

She held up the DVDs. “I guess I’ll get started with these until you’re ready.”

“I won’t be long. I want to put in some surveillance cameras so we can make sure the room stays secure.”

She nodded and slipped the first DVD into her laptop. It contained information on the murder of the Lazlo agent in Prague. The intelligence consisted of video from the various cameras near the Lazlo Prague offices as well as detailed reports on the investigations into his death. Also on the DVD were copies of all the open files on the cases the operative had been working at the time of his death.

Not wanting to let the reports influence her and possibly lead her to wrong first impressions about the video feeds, she left them for last. As she opened the initial MPEG file, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Mitch worked on slipping a needle-fine fiber-optic camera into a picture frame on the opposite side of the room.

He pulled the PDA from his belt and fiddled with something before he walked to another section of the room and went to work again.

Deciding he had things under control, she started playing the video—footage of the front of an ordinary-looking building, apparently the Lazlo location in Prague. Few pedestrians passed in front, and not much more motor vehicle traffic moved by the site. Either the area was not that well- frequented or it was early in the morning.

She decided morning had made the difference in the traffic conditions since it seemed slightly dark at first, but within a short period of time, the sun rose behind the building. A small alley a few doors down from the building was in shadow thanks to its western-facing opening and the larger structures around it. A good hiding place for an early-morning capture or kill.

Advancing through the video, she noted an occasional car or pedestrian, but not much activity until a well-dressed man walked north toward the Lazlo offices. He looked downward, his attention totally focused on the morning newspaper in one hand. He held a briefcase in the other.

As he passed the alley she had noted earlier, someone grabbed him.

The video lacked sound so it was impossible to tell what was happening in the shadows of the alley. Besides, the killer had probably had a silencer on his weapon.

“Find something?” Mitch asked as he finally sat at his computer, right beside her.

“The agent’s capture and, presumably, where he was killed.” She gestured to her screen and replayed the segment. “He never realized what hit him.”

Mitch detected the mix of condemnation and distress in Dani’s voice. He opted to focus on the first. “He wasn’t really a secret-agent type. More like a bean counter. His latest assignment was to investigate the financial records of a charitable foundation. Maybe he was murdered to stop him from discovering a connection between the foundation and SNAKE.”

“So he probably had no idea he had been targeted or how to handle it.”

Mitch nodded. “Once you get to the report, it will probably indicate that there was little sign of a struggle.”

Dani faced him. “And the rest of the dead operatives? Also non-secret-agent types?”

He winced and rubbed at the scar down the middle of his abdomen. “Not really. The agents killed were a mix, but I’m told they all had one thing in common—each of their cases could possibly be connected to the crime syndicate.”

Dani’s gaze tracked the motion of his hand, but then she ripped it away and back to the screen. “I’d like to make that call for myself after I get a chance to review all this material. It’s also possible there’s no connection between them and SNAKE.”

“Then what’s the reason for targeting them?”

“Do sadistic killers need a reason? Besides, I get the sense Lazlo may have made a few enemies over the years,” she said and focused her attention solely on the video.

She had shut him out. Fine by him, Mitch thought and turned to the copies of the case files on the hard drive. He first downloaded them to his computer and then shut down the portable drive, disconnected it and passed it to Dani.

“Thanks,” she murmured without taking her eyes from her screen, where she reviewed digitally enhanced sections of what video they had. Whoever had done the kills had been very good, leaving few clues for them to follow.

His examination of the case files confirmed there was little information except the killer’s unique MO on the last two kills. The first two attacks…

He once again rubbed his scar, recalling how Kruger had surprised him on one of the narrow side streets not far from their current location. He had been distracted, worried about how Kruger had managed to elude them. He had also been concerned about what might happen if the chase left the narrow, twisting side streets and exploded out onto the more crowded neighborhood avenues. Kruger would have not been above opening fire even with innocents nearby—collateral damage meant nothing to people like him. Dani was right that sadistic killers didn’t care.

Or people like Dani, he thought, shooting a glance at her and wondering whether when she was on duty as the Sparrow she had cared about those around her. About him, he thought, his mind drifting back to the day he had “died.”

An arm snaked around his neck and Mitch instinctively knew what would follow.

Reaching upward, he managed to block the swipe of the knife at his throat, but the blade bit deep, slicing across his forearm.

He ignored the pain and dipped his shoulder, used the shift in his weight to throw his attacker up and over him.

Kruger landed with a thud, but before Mitch could attack, his legs started to buckle. He wondered about it for a second, but then looked down and noticed the handle of the knife buried deep in his midsection.

Staggering back, he shifted to remove the blade, only Kruger swiftly jumped to his feet. He lunged at Mitch, grabbed the knife and drove upward with it, a vicious smile on his face.

As he struggled to stay upright, Mitch hit the wall behind him, which kept him on his feet for only a second as his legs finally gave out and he slumped to the ground.

Kruger bent toward him then, intent on finishing the job.

He tried to raise the hand that still held his gun, but his body refused to cooperate. Kruger didn’t have to worry about him. It would only be a short amount of time before he was dead. He could tell from the way all the warmth in his body pooled at his center, trying to keep his vital organs functioning. It was a futile effort. He sensed the growing trail of heat down the middle of his body from the blood escaping him.

Kruger stopped suddenly and shot a quick glance up the side street. With a look of fear etched on his face, he bolted away and out into one of the bigger thoroughfares.

He had to let Aidan know what was happening, Mitch thought, fumbling for the cell phone at his belt—only, his fingers seemed inflexible. Thick and useless.

A moment later, a shadow passed before his eyes and suddenly Dani appeared, kneeling beside him.

“Oh god, Mitch. God, no,” she said, slipping an arm around his upper body and cradling him close.

“Dani…be…safe,” he somehow managed to say and found the strength to pick up the hand holding the gun. He placed it over hers, where it rested at his midsection, trying to stem the flow of blood. He pressed the gun into her hand.

“Take it. Stay safe…love you.” The words were interspersed with his rough, pain-filled breaths.

Dani stroked his cheek, wet with her tears. “Hold on, love. I’m going to get help.”

“No…time. Be…careful,” he warned her, worried that Kruger would come back to rid himself of Dani as well. He suspected she had likely witnessed all or part of the attack. Kruger would want to leave no witnesses behind.

Dani bent her head, dropped a kiss on his forehead and then another on his lips. “I love you, Mitch. Please, just stay with me a little longer. I’m calling for help.”

A second later, she instructed over her cell phone. “This is Sparrow. I need medical assistance…”

“Mitch?”

He seemed surprised when Dani repeated his name. “Are you okay?”

“When did you find out Kruger’s location?” he asked, apparently shaking off whatever had been troubling him.

The question came out of left field and threw her. “What? Why are you asking—”

“SNAKE. It’s got to be them behind this. I think that we’ll eventually find all the dots connect these attacks to them.”

Dani shrugged. “It may seem that way—”

“May seem that way?” Mitch challenged and shot up off his chair. He paced back and forth before facing her and raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “What kind of proof do you need?”

Proof? She had it every time she looked into a mirror, and so did Mitch. They both bore the scars from the crime organization’s attacks, but the other deaths might be just sheer coincidence.

“Why single out the Lazlo Group? Unless it was because you were all getting too close to SNAKE’s operations, only…”

“Only what?” he challenged.

“These kills. The latest MO indicates there’s more to it. These are personal. A challenge. But how can we determine the motive when we don’t know who really runs the syndicate these days now that Max Dumont is dead?”

“So the Sparrow didn’t even come close to completing her mission?” He placed his hands on his hips and glared at her, egging her on.

Dani refused to take the bait. She rose from her chair and walked to stand before him. Looking up at his greater height, she said, “I didn’t complete my mission because I let my personal feelings get in the way. I’m not going to do that again, Mitch, so you can stop goading me.”

His shoulders slumped and he released a tired sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

“You need defenses. I understand. I need them, too.”

She shocked him with her confession almost as much as she surprised herself. She hadn’t meant to admit that she needed to protect herself from the feelings she still had for him. But maybe it was better that it was all out in the open. That both of them were aware of it so as to avoid problems.

When he didn’t say anything else, she said, “It’s time for a break. I need some air.”

“Then let’s roll,” he said and suddenly became all-action guy. He shut down his computer, packed it and the portable hard drive into a small bag that he tossed over his shoulder.

Following his lead, she stowed the DVDs and her laptop in a stylish leather knapsack—her one concession to fashion—and made sure that when she slipped it on she still had easy access to the Glock in the holster at the small of her back.

She watched as Mitch checked the same, but then he slipped another PDA from his bag and walked to the table, which was now devoid of any telltale items. Only the fruit basket and typical hotel paraphernalia rested there.

Mitch slipped the second PDA under the table and pressed upward, apparently adhering it to the underside. “This will broadcast the video signals via a satellite connection to one of the Lazlo servers. We’ll be able to access the recorded videos or live feeds from our PDAs or any PC. That way we’ll know if the area’s been compromised.”

“Sounds good. What about the exterior sector?”

“We should stay out until dark. It’ll be easier to plant the cameras then.”

“So we familiarize ourselves with the area—”

“And grab dinner. I’m hungry,” he said.

She smiled, plucked a pear from the basket and tossed it to him. “It’s too early to eat dinner in Rome. This should tide you over for a few hours.”

He caught the pear and grinned. “You’re a hard taskmaster, Sparrow.”

“I’m glad you figured that out, Agent Lama. Makes life easier for both of us.”

The grin on his face slowly faded and he took a step closer, reached up and cupped her cheek, the action achingly familiar.

In low bedroom tones, he said, “I suspect life with you could never be easy.”

She inched her chin up defiantly. “Are you so sure about that, or are you too afraid to find out?”

Chapter 6

Dani didn’t wait for his reply, afraid of what it might be. She charged out of the room, and Mitch quickly followed, catching up to her to stroll side-by-side into the courtyard. As Dani noticed the hotel clerk by one set of doors, tending to a large terra-cotta pot filled with flowers, she stepped closer to Mitch and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Mitch eased an arm around her, pulling her tight against him. He bent his head, nuzzled the side of her cheek and whispered, “You’ll have to make this look good, you know.”

She went up on tiptoe and silenced him with a kiss, pressing her body to his, opening her mouth to taste him and run her tongue along the outline of his lips. When he groaned, she shifted away slightly and whispered in his ear, “Was that good enough, amore?”

“Too good,” he muttered beneath his breath and shifted inches away, a bright flush of color on his cheeks. He waved at the clerk but applied gentle pressure at the small of her back to urge her in the opposite direction and out of the courtyard.

They remained close together, arms around each other’s waists until they reached a larger street a few blocks away. Dani separated from him then and stopped to get her bearings. It had been over a year since she had been in Rome, but it took her only a second to know where she was.

“Lazlo offices are across the river. Actually, quite a distance away. There’s a tram we could take.”

Mitch glanced up the street, scoping it out before facing her. “Are you up to hoofing it?”

“Hoofing it? If you’re up to it, then so am I.” Besides, she could use the exercise and time to stretch. The annoying pull she had experienced along her midsection the other day had come back with a vengeance, likely from sitting so many hours as she watched the videos.

At his nod, she started walking, intent on reaching the Tiber. Mitch matched his longer strides to her shorter ones. She kept the pace steady but reasonable. It was quite a walk to the Lazlo Group location, which was on a small street close to the Spanish Steps and the Villa Borghese.

It was odd walking beside him in uneasy silence, considering how many times they had been together in Rome. In that wonderful year, whenever had Mitch visited, they had regularly strolled the streets, exploring the sights of the ancient city. The talk had been non stop then, as had been the loving.

Of course, none of that was possible any longer. He had deceived her—as she had him. The fact that both of their deceptions had been for good cause did nothing to alleviate the concern that they both had carried out their deceptions quite well.

It left her wary, uncertain of whether Mitch’s actions could be trusted now, and yet his honor had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. As for her own deception…

It had been necessary in her quest for justice.

At the river, she gestured toward one of the bridges, but as they crossed over the small square cobblestones, she paused to look over the sluggishly moving waters to the other bridges down river—the Ponte Garibaldi and, just beyond it, the small Isola Tiberina in the midst of the Tiber.

“Something wrong?” Mitch asked.

She laid her hands on his. “Loosen up, Mitch. Just pausing to enjoy the view.”

Mitch glanced over his shoulder, tracking Dani’s gaze. The river and bridges stretched out before him, a nice view, much as she had said. But not as nice as the view in front of him.

He faced her once again, telling himself he shouldn’t take such pleasure in seeing her. In walking with her along these streets as they had three years earlier. But the pleasure was as undeniable as the pain that followed at the realization of all they had lost. Somehow, the last didn’t communicate itself to his brain as he said, “Yes, nice view.”

Bright color blossomed along her cheeks as she apparently realized his attention was on her. “Let’s go. It’s starting to get dark.”

Dusk approached quickly, a testament to how many hours they had spent reviewing the materials Lazlo had sent. His stomach growled, a reminder that the boy from Baltimore hadn’t ever gotten accustomed to late-night European meals.

Dani grinned at the rather loud noise from his midsection. With a playful tug on his hand, she said, “Come on. It’ll be tough to sneak up on anyone with all that grumbling going on.”

Her pace was faster than before and they were soon at a familiar place, the Campo de Fiori. He remembered shopping away many a morning with her among the assorted vendors’ stalls. At this hour they were gone, clearing the plaza for artist types and the outdoor dining spots that the restaurants along the edges of the piazza set up.

“Just a snack, mind you,” Dani warned as she pulled him along to a tiny café. In perfect Italian she ordered some cappuccinos and buttered rolls.

He’d had something more substantial in mind, but this would tide him over for another couple of hours. He sipped slowly at the cappuccino in between bites of the deliciously yeasty and buttery roll. He was done long before Dani, who shot him a look out of the corner of her eye and took pity on him, handing him her half-eaten roll.

“But keep your hands off the coffee,” she warned him.

He chuckled, earning a dimpled grin from her. He reminded himself to keep this all business between them. It was about the mission and nothing else.

He reined in his reactions to her—those of his heart and body—and sipped the coffee and ate the roll that suddenly wasn’t as tasty. He was too busy recalling the taste of Dani’s mouth and lips against his.

They finished quickly and continued on their way. The walk took them past the Pantheon and through an assortment of small streets to the Via dei Corso. He remembered that the Trevi fountain stood just a stone’s throw away, and he took the lead, but when they reached it, the area was mobbed as always by tourists. The way it had been the first time Dani had brought him there.

They had waited then, inching their way to the edge of the fountain where Dani had playfully slipped a handful of coins into his hand and he had turned and tossed them over his shoulder to ensure his return to Rome as legend claimed.

And he had returned, time and time again, to see her. Each visit filled with pleasure until the realization had come that he was in love with her. But she hadn’t been the woman he had thought, he reminded himself. He didn’t know if he could get over that or deal with her quest for vengeance for her parents’ deaths. The file Lazlo had given him on Dani said that she hadn’t gotten that information from Donovan. That quest had consumed her before, and he was certain he could never replace it as her number one priority.

He put his head down, ignoring the fountain, and pushed onward until they reached the Via Condotti, where they passed an assortment of elegant shops as they approached the Spanish Steps.

Beside him, Dani paused and gestured to something that looked like little more than an alley.

“This way,” she said and slipped into the narrow street.

He followed, trusting that she knew her way better than he did. Sure enough, within a few minutes the alley opened into another street lined with shops and supply houses that likely provided the materials for the larger fashion houses on the Via Condotti and closer to the Spanish Steps.

At one corner, a quick motion of Dani’s head identified the building to him. On the exterior it appeared to be a store selling fashion trimmings. Its front window displayed an assortment of buttons, ribbons and embellishments, but he knew that a couple of stories below the shop was the location of the Lazlo Group’s Rome headquarters.

They paused for a moment, reconnoitering the area. Scoping out the access to the building. Making mental note of everything nearby, because they knew they had to be prepared for anything and everything. They both understood that possibly better than any others.

As Dani mimicked examining some fabrics in the window of a store across the street from the Lazlo offices, Mitch leaned against the stone column beside the window. He noted the vehicular traffic going by as well as the pedestrians, mostly shoppers with bags from the larger stores on Via Condotti.

Beside him, Dani muttered what sounded like a curse beneath her breath and rubbed at her side, snagging his attention. She looked pale. Or maybe it just seemed that way thanks to all the black she wore, from her sneakers to her jeans and shirt.

“You okay?” He straightened and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Just a stitch,” she said, but it was obvious that it was more. He wondered if he had misjudged her physical readiness for the mission and was about to question her comment, but knew Dani wouldn’t take kindly to coddling.

“Good. I mean…good that it’s only a stitch.” You’re an ass, he thought and then his stomach growled more loudly than before, dragging a chuckle out of Dani, who seemed to leap on the opportunity it presented.

“Do you think you can hold out until we get back to Trastevere?”

“Are you up to walking back?” He winced as she immediately got her guard up.

“I can make it. Can you?” She lifted her chin in challenge.

Discretion, he told himself. “Actually, no. I’m tired and hungry and I’d like to get back to the room because we don’t want to disappoint Signora Garibaldi.”

She grinned at the mention of the exuberant hotel clerk who had checked them in earlier that day. “I guess we need to give her something to talk about.”

“Definitely need to keep up our cover, so let’s hit the bricks.” He slipped his arm around her waist and that she didn’t protest was maybe a sign that she wasn’t feeling a hundred percent.

“Hit the bricks? Do you realize—”

“How clichéd I can be? Yep. Did you forget that about me?”

Dani wanted to say that she hadn’t forgotten anything about him, but bit back that comment since it would only cause trouble. She hadn’t forgotten his propensity for such sayings or the way it felt when he tucked her under his arm protectively, as he had now. She might have protested, if she was feeling better, but the stitch in her side hadn’t receded. If anything, it had grown worse with the long walk.

She told herself that what she needed was rest and then a nice stretching session. Possibly a long soak in the bath.

“We can catch a tram back not far from here.” She motioned in the direction of Via Condotti and they walked side-by-side a few blocks until they were at the tram stop. It wasn’t long before the tram came, but it was relatively crowded, forcing them to stand close together.

Dani relaxed against Mitch’s solid bulk, letting him battle the bumps and jostling of the crowd, and wondered when she had become such a baby. She had chased after bad guys with broken bones, and now she was letting a little discomfort in her side get to her.

Maybe it’s because now you know what it feels like to die, her inner voice reminded her. And so she allowed herself the protection of Mitch’s body and the support of his arms. By the time the tram had crossed over the Tiber and into Trastevere, the sharp pain in her side had receded to a dull throb.

Mitch leaned down and whispered in her ear. “When should we get off?”

“One more stop, I think. By Santa Cecilia,” she replied. Realizing they were almost there, she took hold of his hand and urged him to the exit.

She didn’t release her hold once they were off the tram. Instead she guided him down one of the nearby streets, Via de Genovesi, and to the restaurant.

Spirito di Vino was well-known for its food, wine and having Rome’s original synagogue in its cellar. They walked up the stone steps, beneath an archway and into the restaurant. Once inside, she noted that the stone Alcantara walls continued within along with the archways. Since they were still a bit early for the late-eating Italians, the wait for a table was blessedly short.

The friendly hostess seated them and presented the menus, but also advised that if they desired, the staff would be glad to offer their recommendations for the meal along with the wine.

Mitch, who was sitting beside her, laid his hand over hers. For the first time, the glint of the gold wedding band on his ring finger registered. Reminded her of the similar ring she wore on her hand as part of their charade. How many times had she imagined them married for real? More times than she cared to admit.

“Does that sound good to you, honey?” It was his newlywed husband voice, all solicitous and eager.

“Of course, sweetheart. This is our honeymoon and we want it to be special.”

At her words, the hostess smiled. “Benissimo. We will make sure that it will be molto especiale per lei.”

“Grazie, signora,” Mitch said with a polite nod.

When the hostess walked away, she leaned forward and said, “So you speak a little Italian?”

“Just enough to say, ‘thank you’, ‘please’and ‘where’s the bathroom.’ Not fluent like you. Did you learn it while on assignment here?”

She shrugged. “It was one of my minors in college.”

“The University of Silvershire?” Hidden behind his words lurked another question—one that asked, “How much of what you told me about yourself was true?”

A waiter came over and poured two glasses of pinot grigio for them. She picked up the glass and said, “To our honeymoon.”

He clicked his glass with hers and took a sip, as she did. The wine was fruity and refreshing.

The waiter immediately returned with a plate of formaggio mixto—various cheeses—and a basket filled with an assortment of artisanal bread and rolls.

It was a nice way to begin the meal, she thought, and ate a bit of gorgonzola and semolina bread before answering Mitch.

“I got my degree there. I majored in political science with minors in Italian and French.”

“Any other languages I should know about?”

“German and Russian. I had started on Arabic when…”

Mitch picked up on Dani’s disquiet as her voice trailed off. When he met her gaze, he realized that she had stopped when he had left her life.

“Why?” he asked.

Her small-boned shoulders barely shifted with her shrug. “It just didn’t seem important anymore. All that knowledge and skills when I’d…when I’d lost another person I loved.”

His gut twisted at her words, alternately pleased and sad at her confession. He chose to shift the conversation to another place. “What happened with the prince, with Reginald—”

“Wasn’t something I intended to happen,” she immediately defended.

He thought about the prince’s death from the tainted cocaine Dani had left behind. She hadn’t outright killed him. And yet… “But you were there when he took the cocaine. You were then when he died.”

The hand bringing a piece of cheese and bread to her mouth trembled for a moment. She completed the action, chewed slowly, thoughtfully, before she answered him.

“Reginald swore he was clean. I left the room for only a few minutes…and when I returned he was dead from the cocaine. He’d lied to me about his drug use.”

“But did he deserve to die for that?” Mitch grabbed a piece of cheese from the plate and popped it into his mouth. The flavor was sharp and strong, much like Dani’s response.

“People like Reginald never stop to consider how many people die so they can get high. All I wanted was justice.”

“There’s a difference between justice and vengeance, isn’t there?”

Dani’s eyes narrowed as she considered him. “Why do you care?”

Why did he? he asked himself. He’d promised to not make it personal between them, but a part of him wanted to know that the woman he had loved wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. “Because I do care, Dani. I want to know why punishing Reginald was so important. Why you wrecked your career at SIS. Why you risked it all.”

She leaned forward, never shifting her gaze from his. “Because Donovan promised me the names of the drug dealers who had killed my parents. I wanted them punished. I wanted to find out who headed the crime syndicate they worked for, because I didn’t want another family to suffer as mine did.”

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