Chapter One
The pounding beat of the music filtered into the street as Evan stepped out of his black Maserati. He brushed past the line of partygoers, flashing the highly coveted silver feather that had been given to VIP guests. Evan Tredioux had secured an invitation to the elite gala through a military buddy who’d recently become a senator. A casual mention of the party over cocktails at a five-thousand-a-head fundraiser had opened possibilities. A few texts later, and he’d been assured an invite.
Dom Marretta, CEO of Tri-Trylle, hosted the lavish, once-a-year event that served to bring together the country’s top influencers. From LA to New York, nearly a hundred of the most relevant men and women gathered to celebrate, to see and be seen. Film stars, beacons of industry, scientists, athletes, musicians, and the ultra-interesting all indulged in champagne and top culinary delights.
For weeks, Evan had suspected sensitive data had been systematically stolen from Emerson Industries, where they’d engaged government contracts, developing top-secret state-of-the-art technologies. Discrepancies in dates assigned to the files had raised red flags but he had no proof. Without concrete evidence, he’d been reluctant to alarm his friend and boss, Garrett Emerson, but had made up his mind to go to him tomorrow and tell him everything. Suspecting he’d been followed for the past few days, Evan had planted a thumb drive of sensitive data with a known white hat hacker, Selby Reynolds, who worked for his friend Lars Elliott. Both individuals were highly competent hackers, and most importantly, they could be trusted should he go missing.
It was well known that Dom Marretta had his hands into selling secrets. From gossip to the latest software developments, he stole, traded, and lied, and covered it all up like a pro. Three years ago, Marretta had been implicated in an attempt to steal data from Emerson Industries, but the key witness went missing as did several pieces of evidence, so it never even made it to trial. Evan suspected if he did a little snooping around Dom’s personal office in his home, he’d find at least a clue as to who was messing around in their data.
Adding fuel to the fire, Evan had been tipped off by a friend in the government that an asset would be in attendance tonight, but he couldn’t say who. It was suspected foreign nationals were planning a meeting and Marretta had his sticky fingers in the pot. Evan didn’t know if the suspected targets were in attendance or guilty of planning any crimes against the state. They could have been planning to trade cookie recipes for all he knew, but he suspected they were sharing information regarding stolen data and technologies. If his suspicion was correct, Emerson Industries’ own prototypes could be utilized against allied armed forces. Much of their data still reflected theories but it was light years ahead of their adversaries. Given the volatile state of affairs, leaked secrets, even small ones, could aid terrorist attacks.
Arriving fashionably late ensured Evan that the intoxicated host and the partygoers were relaxed into the night, less likely to notice his activities. Successfully passing through the security check, he strolled into the foyer and brushed past a group of men who were speaking in French, discussing their most recent visit to LA. As he stepped into an enormous living room, a dark and sensual mood filtered throughout; muted conversations had been swallowed into the driving bass that reverberated throughout the contemporary space. Dimly lit bubbled glass light fixtures dangled from the ceiling, illuminating a sea of undulating bodies moving to the music.
Evan gave a cool smile, making his way through the crowd. He spotted a perky blonde at the bar, and her presence set off a cautionary alarm. Although he recalled that she’d occasionally skydived with their group, there was nothing particularly remarkable about her that would garner an invitation and he suspected she had ties to Marretta.
As he stepped outside onto the back porch, he scanned the secluded property. Lanterns of various sizes lit up the perfectly manicured lawn. He glanced to a half dozen topless women who floated in the pool upon glittering golden blow-up swans, their incessant laughter echoing into the night.
Evan accepted a glass of champagne offered by a waiter and kept moving, carefully negotiating the room like a shark seeking its prey. More of a whiskey-straight-up sort, he wasn’t much for the bubbly, but for tonight, he’d blend. While pretending to watch the seductive mermaids, out of his peripheral vision he caught sight of a third-story window. Shadows danced in the light behind a curtain, alerting him that the party wasn’t limited to the first floor. Interesting.
As he made his way back toward the living room, he caught sight of the domineering billionaire. At six foot two inches, Dom Marretta was slightly shorter than Evan. Wearing a fitted royal-blue suit, the ruthless host appeared like the dictator he was. But Evan knew otherwise. Although Marretta had never spent a day in jail, he’d been a suspect in thirteen deaths, not to mention the countless missing persons once in his employ. Anyone stupid enough to sue him found their lawsuit quickly dismissed, courtesy of his legal eagles and bought judges.
“Evan.” Marretta gave a boisterous wave.
“Dom Marretta. Finally we meet. Thanks so much for the invite, buddy.” Evan’s lips curled as he approached. Long ago he’d learned to control his emotions. The surge of anger that pulsed through his veins was tempered by the deliberate decision to remain calm. As he extended his hand, Evan’s eyes locked on Marretta’s, and he forced an easy laugh, appealing to his host’s misogynistic tendencies. “Nice work on the pool scene. Those are some sweet birds ya got going on.”
“Nothing but breasts. Haha, I knew you’d be a ladies’ man.”
“That I am. Excellent party.”
“It appears we have mutual friends,” Dom mentioned casually, ignoring the compliment.
“You know how it is. Leaving the force never breaks bonds. Our brothers are everywhere.”
“So I hear. So I hear. Well, whichever friends you have must have the utmost respect for you for mine to trust them. You are aware of the rules?”
“Absolutely.” Evan had been briefed. No gifts. No weapons. No smoking. No guests of guests. No fucking the help. And no matter what you see, illegal or not, you look away and keep your fucking mouth shut. Talk about what happened at the party or who you saw, there was a good chance you’d end up missing. Evan nodded and smiled. “No worries. Just here to enjoy the swans.”
“Those are some fucking hot swans, yeah? Who’s a pretty bird?” He laughed. His attention drifted to a set of redheaded triplets congregating in the foyer. “If you’ll excuse me, some fresh ones just flew in and I think they’ll be looking to join my flock. Cardinals. Three is my lucky number tonight.”
“Enjoy.” Evan’s smile faded as Dom turned his back to him. Women were a known weakness to the billionaire, his indiscretions regularly splashed across the tabloids.
Evan glanced to a balcony above the foyer, where guests mingled. He noted the guards blocking access to the hallways, and reasoned he’d have to devise a ploy to pass them to join the private party on the third floor. Thriving on challenges, Evan ascended the winding staircase, its intricately designed wrought iron rail twisting to the top. As he reached the landing, he smiled, scanning the scene for a patsy.
It took only seconds before selecting the perfect diversion. A thin blonde sipped a martini at the bar, engaged in a conversation with a twenty-something man whose muscles bulged through his two-sizes-too-small white T-shirt. The transparent material stretched tightly, his erect nipples and chest hair straining against the fabric. The beauty gave a pained smile as he slid his palm over her shoulder. His voice boomed throughout the room, and although he drew the occasional side eye from the crowd, no one intervened.
Evan inwardly laughed, giving a nod to a group of gorgeous women in the corner. No time for ladies tonight, he advanced toward his mark. He casually slipped his hand inside his pocket, sliding a finger into the hidden compartment. The size of a pencil eraser, the wisp of poisoned paper adhered to his finger. Initial testing of the organic prototype had proven successful in incapacitating an adult within fifteen seconds. Odorless, dissolvable on contact, the stamp was activated upon contact with blood, saliva, or sensitive mucous membranes such as the mouth or genitals, and of course, tonight’s option, upon ingestion. The short-lived results of one dose lasted exactly ten minutes. Victims never recalled the incident or the means of delivery, and no long-term effects had been observed. Heart rate and other vital signs remained intact yet no known antidote existed to revive the intended unconscious state. The wafer-thin weapon had been utilized in human trials, but the neophyte technology was only available to government agencies.
Evan eyed the man’s cocktail as he set it on the bar, and increased his pace, advancing toward his target. His gait swayed as he pretended to be drunk.
“Pete. Pete…it’s me, Patrick.” Evan slurred his words as he stumbled toward the mark. Patrick had always been a favorite alias and slipped off his tongue as truth. As he lifted the stranger’s drink, his finger dipped into the beverage, releasing the poison. Evan lifted it to his lips and continued. “It’s been what? Three years since we ran the San Fran marathon. No, no…wait…was it two years ago?”
“What the hell, man? That’s my drink there, asshole.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. My bad.” Evan glanced to the glass and set it down gently, careful not to spill the liquid. He curled a finger at the bartender. “Hey, can I get a rum and Coke? I went to the john and someone jacked my drink. Can you believe that shit can happen at a shindig like this?”
“You sure you want another?” the muscle-bound stranger asked with a condescending tone.
“Two years, right? Geez, it was foggy that day. I could hardly see.” Evan paused to accept his drink from the barkeep and took a sip. “I’m getting ready to run Boston this year but I usually stick to the West Coast.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy. Look, I’m busy here.” His eyes darted to the blonde, who nervously played with her hair. Evan wondered why the girl bothered staying, if she was entertaining the casting couch.
“Yeah, yeah. No worries. Have fun.” Evan held up his glass and nodded, turning away. He gave a closed smile as he took a step toward the balcony railing. In his peripheral vision, he watched as the man gulped his drink. Evan eyed the guarded hallway and silently counted the seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
The high-pitched scream echoed, drawing the attention of those guests on the second-floor landing. As guards and partygoers swarmed around the fallen body, Evan slipped away unnoticed. Quickly making his way down the hall to a side stairway, he bounded upward to investigate.
Evan remained in the shadows, traversing the hallway with stealthy precision as he attempted to avoid the detection of the overhead dome security cameras. All eyes would be on the victim, attempting to wake him. Vital signs would register normal. Evan expected guards would relocate the guest to a private location while they tried to wake him. They’d hesitate to call the police or paramedics, reluctant to disrupt the event. In exactly nine minutes, he’d wake and they’d send the drunken guest home in a cab.
Evan drew closer to the third floor, and the faint whispers of an argument grew louder. As he approached the door, he recognized the female and stopped cold, listening.
“I thought you said you’d be able to help us get the data,” the unfamiliar male voice growled.
“I told you that I worked there. I’ll get you what you want, but it comes at a price,” the female responded.
“Five million cash. It’s what we’re willing to pay. This is not news. Take it or leave it.”
“And I told you, I don’t just want money. I want names,” she replied.
“Names?” he laughed. “Are you fucking kidding? These people are everyone and no one. Names will get you killed as soon as you blink.”
“Names are part of the price,” she demanded.
“You’ve got a death wish, lady. My contacts…there’s no fucking way they want this shared with the likes of you. And now that Mr. Marretta and I have approached them, arranged for this exchange, we’re all at risk. You’re going to get us all killed.”
“I don’t give a shit what you think. Names are and have always been part of the deal.”
“What kind of shit are you into? Blackmail?”
“I’m a collector of sorts. But for the sake of your boss, let’s call it protection should any of these folks decide to come after me. If everyone plays nice, we have no issues. The clients get what they want. I disappear quietly. Everyone’s happy. The terms of this deal are non-negotiable.” She sighed, shook her head in disgust, and took off toward the door. “Look, if you can’t make this happen, I’m out of here. I want to speak with Mr. Marretta. I tire of dealing with the B team.”
Evan held his breath as the sound of her heels clicking grew louder. He glanced to his watch. Seven minutes.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” the male demanded.
“Get your fucking hand off of me right now, or neither you nor Mr. Marretta will ever see me again,” she promised, her voice terse.
“I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen right now. There’s a party going on downstairs.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m going to teach you a lesson in how Dom negotiates. How I negotiate.”
“I’m warning you right now,” she told him, her voice firm but calm, “get your fucking hands off me or you’ll regret it.”
“You know what I want to know? Why did Dom let you into our circle? Why does he trust you anyway? You’re a dumb bitch who just wasted our time. We already arranged this deal and now you’re fucking around. I’ve got news for you. My time is expensive. And this pussy right here is payment for my wasted time. I’m going to split you open, little girl. Give you something to remember me by and then you’re going to get the data for me. You’ll be thanking me when I’m done.”
“Do it,” she challenged with a laugh.
Evan’s heartbeat sped up at her words. What the ever-loving fuck was she doing?
“Here’s a bit of advice. Scream all you want. No one’s going to hear you. I promise only to bruise you where they can’t see. This time.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, asshole. How ’bout you scream for me?”
Evan heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh and tore into the room. Blood gushed from the large thug’s nose as the female broke free of his hold and smacked him across the face with a glass statue. Her attacker rushed forward, shoving her into the wall, and without missing a beat she kneed him in the balls, driving him to the ground.
“Your mama didn’t teach you any manners, did she?” she seethed, fire in her eyes.
“You’re both dead,” the male grunted, catching sight of Evan.
“We all gotta go sometime. But not today.” Evan shrugged with a smile and landed a fist on his jaw. A loud thud sounded as the woman’s assailant fell unconscious to the floor.
“Evan,” the female whispered, her eyes wide on his.
“Raine.”
“I’ve got this,” she insisted. “You’ve got to go.”
“Like hell you do. You’re going to get us both killed. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Raine rolled her eyes and tugged down her white spandex dress. She reached for a matching pump that had fallen off her foot, slipped it on, and glanced around the room. “My purse.”
“Forget your goddamned purse.” Evan checked his watch. Two minutes.
“I’ve got it,” Raine responded, lifting it up off the floor.
“We’ve got to go now.”
“Fine,” she agreed, reluctance in her tone. “Come on. We can get out the back.”
“Jesus, Raine. Just how the hell do you know this place so well?” Evan asked. He slid the backs of his knuckles across the emerald sofa, depositing a smear of blood onto its fabric, and poked his head around the doorjamb to check for guards. “It’s clear but not for long. My car’s parked a block away. Let’s go.”
“To the left,” she instructed.
“Yeah, I’ve got it.” It would only be a matter of seconds before someone saw the video of him in the room upstairs. Evan led them into the shadows toward a staircase farther down the hallway. “Goes to the kitchen, yes?”
“The caterers are in there but we should be able to slip out the alleyway. They’ll be looking for us though. We are so fucked,” she gritted out as they bounded down the flight of stairs.
As they reached the kitchen, Evan blocked her from going farther.
“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered.
“Hold up.” He peeked into the room. Several cooks and waiters buzzed around the area, all focused on their work. Evan’s eyes met Raine’s. “Out the back door and to my car. Follow me. If they come for me, run as far as you can get on foot. I will come for you.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“Sweetheart…” He gave a small smile, recalling how she’d handled the guy upstairs. “After what I saw tonight, I’m tempted to agree, but you and I are as good as dead if we don’t make ourselves scarce. Now.”
Evan took her hand in his, shoving away the electricity that tingled in his palm. Tonight they’d have it out, and one way or another he’d find out what kind of shit she was into. For months he’d wanted to fuck his lovely coworker, but after overhearing her conversation, it was likely he’d kill her by his own hand or she’d be spending a long time in a government lockdown facility. A shame, really, but business was business.
As they tore into the kitchen, he dragged her, weaving through the sea of uniformed staff. A pan dropped, hitting the floor with a loud clang, and he looked over his shoulder, noting the five armed guards barreling toward them.
“Move,” Evan told her. “Sorry, buddy.” He snatched a silver tray out of a waiter’s hands, and puff pastries flew into the air as he hurled it towards the barrage of goons who screamed at them to stop.
“This way.” Raine pointed to the back exit.
Evan tugged a carving knife from a cook, shoving through the crowded kitchen. The swinging doors banged against the wall as he shouldered them open. A few cooks who stood smoking in the side alleyway made no move to stop them as they ran away.
“Keep going. They won’t fire shots here at the house,” Evan told her.
“Yeah, they’ll find us later and kill us.” Raine tore her hand from his as they broke into a sprint down the street.
“Here.” Evan shoved his hand into his pocket and depressed the remote, unlocking the car.
“I’m not getting paid enough,” Raine remarked at the sight of his expensive vehicle.
“Seems to me you’re doing just fine with the money you’re demanding.” Evan didn’t bother opening the door for the woman who had attempted to illegally sell data that didn’t belong to her. “Get the fuck in.”
“What crawled in your bed and died?” she asked, rolling her eyes. She opened her door, jumped in, and slammed it shut.
“Are you fucking for real, Raine?” Evan blew out a breath and shook his head, tossing the knife to the ground. He opened his door, slipped inside, and started the engine. “No, you know what? Don’t say another fucking word. But you go ahead and think about what you’re going to say.”
“About what?” Raine’s face tensed as she glanced in the side mirror. Headlights flashed in the distance. “We’ve got company.”
“The truth. That’s what the hell what.” Evan shifted into gear and slammed his foot on the accelerator.
The wheels squealed, and the scent of burnt rubber permeated the car’s interior. Evan wrenched the steering wheel to the right, taking the vehicle around a hairpin curve and down a side street. His eyes flashed to the rearview mirror, noting the lights behind him.
“Whatever shit you’re into, you’re in it deep. I want to know what shit. Whose shit. And how far you’re swimmin’ in it…” Evan paused as he raced into an underpass. Switching lanes, he passed several cars until they emerged from the tunnel. He slammed on the brakes, sending the car spinning, and by the time they stopped, they were facing in the other direction. Spotting a dark alleyway, he sped into it and shut off the lights.
“Just because I didn’t kill you back there for offering to sell government secrets,” he continued, “that doesn’t mean I won’t. You have secrets, sweetheart, but so do I. My guess is that you aren’t carryin’, but be prepared because I’m searchin’ your ass for weapons when we get to our destination.”
“And where exactly is that?” Raine twisted to look out the back window. “That’s them there. They passed. Jesus Christ, you’re right about one thing, we’re in some shit.”
“Correction, sweetheart. You’re in some shit. I’m not the one sellin’ what doesn’t belong to me.”
“I would never do anything to hurt Emerson Industries or this country, and you fucking know it.” Raine glanced to her blood-splattered dress and sighed. “Damn. I’m never gonna get that out. I just bought this. And I looked good in it too.”
“You’re cold, girl. I’ll give you that.” He shrugged and fired the engine up. “Tell you what. If I find you’re telling the truth, that what you were doing was something other than what I thought it was, then I’ll buy ya a new one. But I can promise you this. Lie to me? You’re goin’ to lose a lot more than an overpriced dress.”
“It’s not what you think,” she protested.
“Just stop. You just sit there and work on your story. Later. I want the truth. All of it.”
“But…”
“Not another word.” Evan shifted hard, his thoughts racing as he tore down the I-5.
Raine Presley. What the hell was she doing tonight? Not for a minute would he have pegged her as a corporate spy. A fearless skydiver, Raine had joined Club Altura a year after starting her employment at Emerson Industries. As the chief security officer, she reported to Garrett on paper, but it was Evan who oversaw her work.
For months Evan had fought his attraction to her. Office dating wasn’t an option. Not dipping his pen in the company ink had been a hard-and-fast rule that had served him well. A moment of pussy could be sweet as sugar but bitter as fuck the minute it turned. Although technically he wasn’t her boss, the managerial lines blurred, and it could easily be argued he’d pressured her into it.
As the months progressed, their unsated sexual chemistry morphed into a heated, quick-witted banter that only served to fuel his desire for her. Despite the ongoing fantasy and temptation, logic warned him to stay away.
Evan had found it particularly difficult to resist her at Club Altura events. From skydiving to rock climbing, the members skirted the edge of death and openly explored their sexuality within the confines of Garrett Emerson’s beachfront retreat. He found it interesting how the attractive executive would flirt yet never indulge in the more adventurous sexual activities. While Evan had publicly played with women, engaging in the occasional fling, he’d often catch her watching, a craving flickering in her hungry eyes.
He glanced to Raine who checked her phone. He noted the emerging bruises on her skin, a small trickle of dried blood on her shoulder. His mind churned as he recalled how she’d fought her attacker. He’d been in the military and had witnessed violence firsthand. She’d defended herself with an effortless precision and accuracy, which told him she’d been trained. The question was, by whom and for what purpose?
Evan focused on the road and sped toward San Diego. They’d have only hours to secure extra protection, decide next steps. Dom Marretta would want answers as to why he’d gone snooping at his party. Evan would claim he’d simply wandered in search of a restroom. As for Raine, he still couldn’t be sure of the consequences of her actions. Once they arrived at his house, he’d either get the truth or, if not, he’d turn her over to the authorities himself.