Bad Attitude (B.A.D. Agency #1)(12)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

The problem was, he didn’t seem to want any of them, and he didn’t even know why. “Yeah.”

She pulled into the garage that was under the Bat Tower.

He frowned as he realized that it was here. “Why do some people park across the street?”

“They prefer it.”

“Why?”

“Call Dionne Warwick or ask one of them what park there. I, myself have no answer for it, since I like to park here.”

He shook his head at her. “You are sassy.”

She got out of the car with a saucy walk that only increased his discomfort. He growled low in his throat as he eyed those h*ps he would love to cup in his hands. Being around her was starting to seriously annoy him.

Syd could feel her heart pounding as she came under the full scrutiny of that incredibly male stare.

Don’t go there.

But it was hard not to. Trying to force her hormones back into submission, she headed for the elevator that led to the upper floors.

Steele came up behind her and stood so close, she could feel the heat from his body.

“You know, I have to say this has been a hell of a day. When I woke up this morning, the last thing I expected was to be here in Nashville tonight.”

She glanced up at the lights to see the elevator still had a ways to go before it arrived.

“Has anyone ever told you how good you kiss?”

She glanced over her shoulder to see him eyeing her like a predator. “Steele—”

He placed his finger over her lips to silence her. “It’s okay, Sydney. I know how to take no for an answer. We’ll forget about the kiss.”

He dropped his hand away from her face, and she felt the absence of it immediately.

It’s for the best.

Then why did she feel so vacant? For that matter, why did she crave another kiss from him, even though she knew better? Kisses only led to relationships, which eventually led to a broken heart, and she’d had her fill of the latter. Her days of being lovesick were over.

She didn’t want to be hurt anymore. She had her career and her causes. They were enough to keep her happy.

At least, most of the time—and on the nights when they weren’t, it was why the good Lord had created chocolate, and Ben and Jerry’s.

Once the elevator arrived, they headed to the offices, while remaining completely silent.

The lobby area was dark, but as she entered the cube area, she realized that several agents were still working.

“Hey, Mark,” she said as she paused outside his cube. “This is our newest member, Steele. Steele, meet Mark Thunder-heart.”

Steele extended his hand out to a man who was obviously Native American. Tall and thin, he had long black hair that hung around an angular face. His jet-black eyes were uncanny with their intelligence.

“Hi.”

Mark shook his hand and inclined his head to him. “Nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

He then bypassed Steele and pulled out a set of papers from his desk, which he handed to Syd. “I got that info for you. It appears your Kabukis have made their financial commitment to our friends at APS. There was a large wire transfer to their Cay-man account late this afternoon.”

Syd made a sound of disgust in her throat as he used Steele’s term for the Uhbukistanis. “Don’t even tell me you were listening in this afternoon.”

Mark laughed. “I couldn’t help myself.” He grinned at Steele. “I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed your take on the conflict.”

“Yeah, well, when King Oompa-Loompa is threatened, we all have to get involved.”

Syd groaned. “Oh, please spare me before I get an ulcer.”

Mark gave her an unrepentant grin. “They requested confirmation of their contact. So I figure if APS hasn’t assigned a hit man to the president yet, they will in the next day or two.”

“APS?” Steele asked.

“Asset Protection Systems. They’re a front for a group of D.C. assassins and mercenaries we’ve been tracking for some time now.”

Steele gave them a dry stare as he finally understood the real reason why he’d been contacted. “You want me to work for them.”

Both of them nodded.

Damn. The last thing he wanted was to be involved…oh, wait, he’d already been involved with people like this for the last two years. “Who are these people, anyway?”

It was Mark who answered. “They are an independent firm that uses recruiters to find new talent. One of their recruiters goes by the name Dillon Williamon.”

Suddenly everything became crystal clear in his mind. “You guys know he contacted me.”

Again both Syd and Mark nodded.

That made sense. Dillon had offered him a job about nine months back after Steele had kept his younger brother from becoming another inmate’s bitch. Of course, he and Williamon had assumed it would be about twenty years or more before Steele would need employment….

But now they wanted him to take the job from the mobster. Great. Just great.

“So how did you peg them?”

Mark pulled a roster out of a file and handed it to Steele. “There’s a lot of ex-military working for APS, some of whom were referred there by Williamon.”

Steele scanned the names. “That’s normal though. A lot of military people go into security and law enforcement after they get out.”

Syd put her hands in her pockets as she watched him. “Yeah, but when you do a background on these guys, you find an interesting array of talents that aren’t really suited to a security company.”

“Such as?”

“Demolition experts,” Mark said. “Dishonorably discharged snipers and my personal fave, bio-weaponry experts.”

Steele gave him a pointed look. “You have to love shadow agencies that pretend to be legit.” He slid his gaze meaningfully to the American Fidelity Life Insurance logo that was painted on the wall behind Mark.

“Ha, ha,” Syd said sarcastically. “But now you know why I had to leak your supposed escape. This way, when you show up on APS’s doorstep, you look legit.”

“I would still appreciate it if you would call the authorities off.”

The look on her face was divinely evil. “You complete this mission, and I will.”

He growled at her as she picked up a phone and handed it to him.

Steele took it with a frown. “What’s this?”

“We need you to make contact with APS.”

He gave her a droll stare. “You don’t just call these people up out of the blue, Syd, and ask for a job.”

Mark nodded in agreement. “He has a point.”

“So then how do we get in?”

Steele winked at her. “We do this my way, remember?” He expected Syd to argue, but for once she remained silent.

Amazed by that, Steele called Information for Metuchen, New Jersey. Once he had the correct number for Williamon, he entered it in while Mark and Syd watched him closely.

“Hi,” he said, stepping away from them. “Is Dillon Williamon there?”

“This is Dillon, who are you?”

He bristled at the commanding tone, but forced himself not to respond in kind. “It’s Steele from Kansas. You told me to call you whenever I was looking for work.”

There was several seconds of silence. “Are you shitting me?”

“No. I could really use a job right now.”

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Yeah, well, I saw the light and was liberated.”

Evil laughter sounded over the phone. “Your uncle looking for you?”

“Let’s just say that I’d like to stay away from the old man for a while. Can you help me?”

“I don’t know, man. You ready for this?”

Steele glanced over to Syd and the expectation on her face. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this. He must have lost a few brain cells over the last two years. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, I know. Where you looking to move to?”

“You know me, I don’t much cotton to you Yankees. I’m thinking of someplace where I feel comfortable. You got anything around Dallas or D.C.?”

Dillon hissed. “Dallas is dry lately. You sure you don’t want to head up this way? I got a lot of people who could use your talents and skills.”

“Nah, man. I don’t like cities that big. Besides, it’d take me too long to learn my way around. I’d rather stay on familiar turf.”

“You got a point. Let me do some checking and call you back.”

“That’s easier said that done. I’m not exactly steady at the moment. How about I call you back?”

“Okay. Call me in the morning.”

“You got it. Thanks.” Steele hung up the phone.

“What was all that verbal code talk?” Syd asked.

“That was me interviewing to become a hired killer.”

Syd crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you telling me it’s that easy to become a contract killer?”

“No, I’m sure there will be more to it than that. But if he can put me in touch with whoever is running APS in D.C., we might be able to find your killer before he makes a move on King Oompa-Loompa.”

“That’s President Oompa-Loompa,” Syd corrected.

Steele smiled as she finally accepted his nickname for the Uhbukistanis. “Sorry.”

“Well, he’s gotten us closer to them than we’ve ever been before,” Mark said. “I’m impressed. With any luck, he’ll let us in the back door yet.”

“Yeah, but he knows nothing about undercover work, and we don’t have much time to teach him.”

“Bullshit,” Steele said. “I’m a sniper. I know more about undercover work than all of you combined. First thing I learned was how to make myself invisible to my enemies. Believe me, I can handle anything they throw at me.”

Still Syd looked skeptical. “I hope you’re right, ’cause when all things are said and done, they just might be hurling a lot of live artillery your way.”

That didn’t scare him in the least. “Bring it on and damned be he who first cries, Enough. And I can guarantee you this. It won’t be me.”

Seven

Syd spent the next four hours briefing Steele on everything she knew about Uhbukistan and the
Kaskamanovs. Everything from how the country had broken down after the Soviets pulled back to the coup that had allowed the president to rise to power. It was a position that the man held tenuously at best. With discordant factions who wanted him deposed, and a ne’er-do-well son who couldn’t wait to claim his father’s power, he had his hands full.

But Viktor Kaskamanov was nothing if not a determined man. Instead of wanting to defect to the Middle Eastern countries that bordered his own, he wanted to keep his country allied to the West. A disciple of Marx and Stalin, Viktor believed that his country must adhere to its Soviet heritage and not be absorbed by the neighboring countries, who wanted its oil and the political advantage that came with its land.

It was a belief that would cost the man his life if they failed.

All in all, Syd was surprised at how quickly Steele absorbed the history and current events of Uhbukistan, even though he persisted in calling them anything but Uhbukistanis.

It was a little after midnight, and everyone except for Mark and Andre had long headed home.

“You look like you’ve about had it,” Steele said softly as he closed the file in front of her.

Syd covered her mouth as she yawned. “I probably should head home. You’re probably exhausted too.”

He leaned his head to the left to stretch his neck muscles—a gesture that was remarkably seductive and inviting. No man should ever expose such a tantalizing piece of flesh unless he wanted a woman to sink her teeth into it.

“Yeah, I’ve been up since four a.m.”

She gaped at his confession. “Why?”

“I was on kitchen detail. They tend to make us rise early to get breakfast ready for the rest.”

She was aghast that he was still going strong, considering that he’d been up for almost twenty-four hours straight with nothing more than that tiny nap on the helicopter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

He shrugged. “A good night’s sleep isn’t something you generally get in prison. After a while, you get used to going without.”

Even so, she was amazed he’d stayed sharp for so long. Until he’d mentioned it, she’d had no idea that was even tired at all. “C’mon, let me take you home with me.”

He gave her a painful expression. “Don’t tease me, Sydney, when you know I’m dying to get laid.”

So much for her tender feelings for him—which was probably good. Every time she started to soften where he was concerned, he invariably said or did something that repelled her. “Is that all you can think about?”

“You know, I entered prison on a long dry spell. Believe me, had I had any inkling I’d have to go two and half years without touching a woman, I’d have given Wilt Chamberlain a run for his money.”

She snorted as she gathered her files and then locked them in her desk drawer. “That has to be the worst come-on line I think I’ve ever heard. Sleep with me, baby, ’cause I’m fresh out of jail and desperate for a quick lay and I need a warm body. Oooh, baby, lay it on me.”

He shook his head at her. “Do you really think that? If all I wanted was a quick lay from any warm body around, I’m relatively sure I could find it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I guess you’re just incredibly attracted to my razor-sharp wit.”

“No,” he said in a deep, provocative tone, “I’m incredibly attracted to your sexy lips. Damn, woman, you really should keep those covered. Angelina Jolie has nothing on you.”

In spite of herself, she was succumbing to his less than charming words. It would be so easy to give in to him, but she knew better. Men and their hormones with her heart were a lethal combination, and the last thing she wanted was to be fodder for the other agents to mock.