San Francisco, California

The international terminal at the San Francisco International Airport was busy as shit when his fourteen-hour flight arrived.

As his handler had said, he arrived at Gate 93 after spending a luxurious flight in the care of his doting flight attendants, Penelope from Perth, Australia, and Chenguang, from Hong Kong. They certainly lived up to their job titles attending to him the entire way from China across the Pacific. From the complimentary champagne to the shit ton of movies and internet browsing available, Nick took full advantage of his sleep pod to stretch out and get a good nine hours on coma-like rest before powering up with a giant breakfast, courtesy of his two new friends. He was sure either of the lovely women would have curled up in his sleep pod with him if given the slightest encouragement or even slipped into the first class bathroom for a mile-high quickie. Nick had experienced a lot of casual sex in his life—especially overseas in the military—but the airplane experience was a mystery.

None of that was even an option on this flight because Nick was not only preoccupied with his new assignment, he was also completely exhausted from all he’d been through in the last forty-eight hours. Even though he was in the best shape of his life, a body could only go so long without food and sleep. Nick did manage to get an invite to surf Australia’s west coast with a free place to stay from Penelope and complimentary passes to some amusement park in Hong Kong from Chenguang. He’d have to remember that for it or when The Company ever allowed him to take a vacation like a normal person.

Two cups of java later, a fresh shave in the restroom, and a flawless touchdown on the tarmac later and Nick thanked his charming flight team and was now ready to go to work.

When his feet hit the terminal, he immediately went into full surveillance mode. He couldn’t help it. Habit. Besides, he didn’t even know what his target looked like yet. He only knew she was a… she.

He placed his Ray Bans over his eyes to hide his perusal of everyone and everything. He was trying to locate the Coach designer store he’d been told about. Whenever assignments came on short notice like this, airports, bus and train terminals, metro stations, and malls were always the most likely place for The Company to pass on instructions. Plenty of people around, the general public going about their business, and basically no one wanting to make a scene or draw attention to themselves in such an environment.

As Nick already knew too well, The Company hired operatives who excelled at blending into a crowd without being noticed. Like him. Hell, he’d had a seventy-year-old granny pass information to him in Miami a few months back. After exchanging the appropriate code words to establish identity, she handed him the package and then proceeded to worry over his dog-tired appearance as if he were one of her brood. She suggested he take some ginseng to supplement his immune system and give him energy boosts while traveling and such. He took it in stride, appreciating her concern, though mostly mulling over how the hell a sweet old thing like her even landed in this line of work. Shit… she must have been recruited by The Company right after World War II!

That was the way of the job. So, as things stood here in San Francisco, he had to accept whoever it was this time had probably already spotted him and knew their role in the exchange of information.

There it was: the Coach store. Fancy women’s purses, wallets, belts, and other accessories were showcased and featured in the window display, as well as on the strategically-placed, chic white tables inside the well-lit retail space. Several travelers sorted through merchandise not even bothering to check out the price. He supposed if you had to ask, you probably couldn’t afford it.

He spotted a black and brown leather sports bag being displayed by an acrylic male figure. Nick had to laugh in spite of it. There was no way he was toting a man purse like that no matter how stylish or designer it might be considered.

A smartly dressed sales woman, probably in her early twenties, approached him knowingly and said, “That’s our new flag backpack in pebble leather. It’s very convenient for a rugged man on the go.” She stopped to look him up and down with her hazel eyes. “Someone like you?”

Nick had to snicker at her forwardness and self-assurance. Appreciated it, even. Of course, she wanted a sale, so she was pouring on the charm. “No, hon,” he said in a syrupy sweet accent. “I’m actually here to pick up a pre-paid order. For Sterling.”

Her eyes widened immediately as if he’d announced the arrival of a movie star to see her, and she smiled brightly. “Yes… of course,” she said. “I filled the order myself, Mr. Sterling.” She tossed a glance over her shoulder and added, “You are Mr. Sterling, right?”

Grinning back, Nick said, “I am.”

The sales girl continued as she moved him deeper into the store. “Well, I certainly hope the lady in your life will appreciate this most exquisite gift. I know I would.”

She nearly danced over to the checkout counter and withdrew a designer gift box from down below. Nick followed in her wake playing up his role. The woman carefully lifted the lid, peeled back layers of tissue paper, and presented the bag to him as if it were the first born son of a king.

“It’s stunning,” she said. “The Rouge glove-tanned leather with whip-stitched genuine crocodile trim with cross-body shoulder straps and hand-held handles, as well. It’s an absolute steal at only four thousand dollars.”

Nick bit his tongue to keep from busting out, What the fuck? The Company spared no expense when they wanted to get shit done the right way. Whatever. They had a fleet of accountants to write everything off, Nick was sure. The winner in this transaction was the ambitious sales girl who’d have her daily tracked sales figures blow everyone else out of the water. It might actually net her more in her paycheck that twelve bucks an hour.

“She’s going to love it,” Nick said, continuing his charade. He opened his wallet and pulled out the Black Card The Company had given him.

The sale girl’s eyes grew as big as the wide-body jet he’d flown in on. “It’s all taken care of, Mr. Sterling. Your assistant paid for it over the phone when the order was called in. You’re all set.” She slid the top of the box back on securely and placed it into a large shopping bag. “Thank you so much for visiting us here at Coach.” Then, she gave him a card that read “Elyse, Sales Associate.” “Come back anytime,” she added.

He replaced the credit card into his wallet, along with her card and plucked out several twenty dollar bills. He couldn’t assume she’d get a commission on this beast of a sale, so it was the least he could do for her participation.

She grinned like crazy. “Thank you so much, Mr. Sterling.” Glancing around as if making sure no one else saw, she stashed the money into the front of her shirt and winked at him.

Nick nodded and exited the store. Shit… the things he did all in the name of being stealthy and clandestine. If he had a few more hours to waste, he might invite Elyse to have a drink with him or to slip away to the Executive Club to get to know each other better. Not a good idea, though. He had to focus. New assignment was up now. Too bad, because ending one always gave him a hard on. Not because he enjoyed seeing someone die or property destroyed, but because he’d done his job. He’d completed the task, lived up to expectations, and was the best of the best. He was excited as fuck at the thought of how he was one step closer to freedom, being financially secure and independent. Liberation from all of it and everything his life had unexpectedly morphed into.

His first foster father said he’d “never amount to nothing.’” Really? What kind of asshole tells that to a four-year-old? Words like that leave a mark, a scar on the inside that didn’t easily mend. Yeah, well, Nick had shown that old man. And, now, he was going to make enough money to assure no one else every told him what to do, how to do it, or, more importantly, what he couldn’t do. Fuck them all.

He needed a release. Wanted to shoot his wad and feel the powerful sensation of his cock squeezing out the hot cum of success. It had nothing to do with love, romance, commitment, or relationships. It was purely manly. Ego. The need to control. The buildup of testosterone and the caveman-like need to mark his territory. It was primal. Guttural. It was a fucking high.

As he turned to see which way his gate was, he was steamrolled as a small woman ran smack-dab into him. Or, maybe he ran into her? He didn’t quite know. With a concrete muscle frame like his, most everything bounced off him.

“Oh, my God!” the woman said, steadying herself. “Hey, watch it!”

Nick reached his arms out to stabilize her, righting her back to both feet. She flattened her mouth, annoyed at the altercation. He noticed she was almost a foot shorter than he was, definitely feisty with yards of thick, gorgeous brown hair and deep set eyes to match. His cock strained against his jeans, not from the flirty sales girl, but from this babe traveling in a hurry who’d collided with him.

“Damn, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you,” he said politely while still gripping her wrist gently.

She didn’t squirm out of his arms, but did lean back and gaze up at him. “Good Lord, you’re a tall drink of water. What do they feed you where you come from?” she quipped.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her comment. “Small children… and brunettes.”

The woman laughed at him, but he could see pain and fear hidden behind her eyes. He was good at reading people, and with this girl, it was no different. “Wow… you’re cute and funny.”

Being a gentleman, he made sure she found her balance, and then he let go. Then, he added, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to rattle you like that. I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

She visibly gulped hard and then gave a fleeting glance around. “No, I’m fine. It’s okay. It happens, right? I mean, airports are a shit show at the best of times. I’m just… in a hurry to get to my flight.”

“Ahhh… right. Of course,” he said with a nod and a smile.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Her eyes peered up at his, locking together with his in an instance of pure silence. His mind blocked out everything around them. From the people milling around and dashing from gate to gate, to the annoying beeping of the slow-moving passenger carts, and even the extremely loud attendant at the next gate announcing the last call for Air France Flight 324 to Paris. His dick twitched with the warped thought of dragging her up to the executive club level. Sometimes they had sleep pods or dressing rooms or—

The bag in his left hand bumped his leg, quickly bringing him back to his real purpose here. This wasn’t a pleasure trip in any way, shape, form, or designer fashion.