Avery Walk, Battersea, SW11, London

Scarlett knew there was going to be a discussion between her and Scarecrow. She hadn’t exactly told him her real name. She’d brought him to her Avery Walk condo. He was upstairs right now taking a shower.

“You and Crow, huh?” Kat said, leaning back on the white leather couch.

“It’s a small world.” She held up her glass of whiskey, the good stuff she kept in her cupboard. Kat collided her glass with a clink of cut crystal.

“You look like hell, mate. Is it Cross?”

“Orion is my Cross to bear,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. “I can’t tell you what’s going on, but suffice it to say I’ve had a pretty bad few weeks. The worse since I joined The Company.”

“I’m sorry. This job will rob you, Kat. I quit MI-6.”

“You could have fooled me.”

She jutted out her chin and gestured toward the stairs. “His doing.”

“He does have the kind of charm that is hard to resist. Add in that Southern accent and it’s game over.”

“Cheers on that.”

“He could be a CIA agent. He’s got what it takes. He’s a hunter and damn good at it.”

“You trying to recruit him?” The CIA always had their own agenda just as SIS did.

“I’m always looking for officers who can hold their own.” Her voice turned bitter. “Less loss that way, don’t you know. Training is expensive, and he’s already got the skills.”

“Another one?” Scarlett asked, reaching for Kat’s glass, realizing full well that something had happened to her, and when a person was in the spook business, it was never something good. The kind of something that meant deaths in the field. She was top-notch, and Scarlett would follow her into hell, but where Scarlett had banked her emotions, Kat hadn’t been able to do that fully.

“No, I’ve been drinking too much lately, and we have a briefing in an hour.” She closed her eyes, her voice strained. “I have no ties. I lie to my family. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’ve got to set things right—”

The sound of Scarecrow coming down the stairs made Kat retreat into herself. He looked delicious as usual. The weariness and scruff looked good on him. But it was clear Kat was on the edge.

“What’s the plan?”

Kat rose and gave him a half-hearted smile. “Always ready for action, huh, Crow?”

“You know it, lady.”

“We’re briefing in less than forty-five minutes. Yana knows where to go. I’ll see you there.”

Scarecrow’s eyes narrowed when Kat used Scarlett’s real name. Bugger it.

When the door closed behind Kat, Scarecrow came around the couch, snagged her glass, and took a gulp of the whiskey. “Smooth. Just like you.”

“Don’t give me a hard time. I was into my persona, and I guess I wanted to be your Scarlett. It feels more real to me than Yana.”

“Yana?”

“Kozlov.”

“I like it. Much more badass sounding than Scarlett.”

“I don’t know. She was pretty tough in Gone with The Wind.” She took the glass back and finished it off, her tongue and throat burning, then the punch of the afterglow. “We going to argue?” She stuck her bottom lip out. “I don’t know about you, but I like to shag before a mission, takes the edge off a bit.”

She watched in fascination as a slow, seductive smile curved the corners of his full lips and his gaze turned smoky green with desire. She knew she was getting her way when he stepped forward and nuzzled the side of her neck with that incredible mouth of his.

Before she could say anything more, he kissed her. Like mad. Hot and passionate and blowing any control he had right out of the water.

He overcame her, slaughtered her with sensations, and Scarlett’s legs softened like warm putty as he back-walked her to the dining table and trapped her against the lip with his big, beautiful body. She groaned as he cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple, sending a pulse of heat through her veins, stirring every cell and making them scream.

So many places on her wanted to be handled, touched, smothered by this powerful, sexy man, to make her feel like she existed, and not floating between identities and missions.

His hand was heavy as it rode over her hip, pausing to squeeze, then slid underneath her skirt to the waistband of her panties, slipping inside.

Suddenly her world exploded. Her legs gave out. He parted her and pushed deep inside, stroking her toward a climax.

She breathed his name over and over and he watched her writhe in his arms, his gaze glancing down to watch her hips following his moves. “Christ, sugar. You melt on my tongue.”

She yanked his T-shirt over his head. The fresh, just-showered smell of him was laced with spice and heat. The thick muscle and wide chest were all there for her taking, for her mouth and hands as she licked and teased, kissed and sucked.

“Off,” she said, pulling at his jeans.

His fingers plunged into her softness, then retreated, over and over, never giving her a chance to catch her breath. Scarlett gave in and leaned back over his arms, spreading wider, then hooked her leg around his calf. He pressed her to the table in a tangle of arms and legs, and she went crazy on his clothes, pushing his jeans down and diving her hand inside.

Scarecrow groaned when she closed around him and he flexed in her palm. “Jesus, darlin’.”

For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring her touch. This woman knew her own power, sliding her fingers over the slick tip of him as he lengthened in her hand. It wasn’t hard to guess that she wanted him on the edge, as helpless as she was, and she showed him no mercy. He hiked up the skirt and she spread her thighs, urging him between, and guided him a little into her.

He trembled, pushing without control. “Fuck, woman.”

She guided him. “Inside me,” she whispered in his ear. “Deeply.” The hot words pushed him over the edge, and he thrust.

She gasped and arched on the table, gripping his shoulders, then went to her back. He held her hips, plunging into her slowly. She was velvet tight. His dick throbbed, as he watched her face. Her body rippled beneath him with pleasure, and he called her name.

She looked at him, her features softening, her violet eyes glowing with open desire as she fractured her barriers even more. Scarecrow didn’t know what he wanted from her, but his body inside hers was more than two people satisfying a need.

It was goddamned more, and he pushed her legs around his waist, and she laughed. He pulled her up to him, her hands cupping his face, her gaze locked with his. It was sexy and personal, watching her features, the passion in her eyes as he thrust back. She was coming, he could see it, feel it, and he wanted to tell her what she made him feel, but the words were trapped in his throat.

“Arlo, love,”

He pushed her to her back, his hips pistoning, and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

She moaned and groaned. “I’ve got you, sugar,” he whispered. She arched to meet him, cradling his face, and her eyes went glossy.

He kissed her, his thrusts quick and smooth as he whispered in her ear, “Give it to me.” The sound of her surrender was like the sweetest note he could ever hear. Her muscles clawed him, sent him beyond the boundaries. In one hard thrust, he erupted and pressed deeper, fusing to her.

She reveled in his pleasure as he reveled in hers. He held her tightly and watched. Her breath hitched, her body jerked, and she flexed, melting into him, pulling him tighter. The moment when she peaked, tears in her eyes, her heart in her expression, sent tenderness through him to soften his movements. He closed his arms around her as she rode the throbbing sensations with him.

He’d never forget the emotions she’d shown him. It would stay with him for a long time, he thought, and it changed his perspective. Only made everything more complicated.

Her phone rang, and he shifted so that she could reach it. “Kozlov,” she said, and the sound of her real name echoed through him.

Yeah, complicated didn’t really cover this. This was beyond complicated, slipping into impossible.

She disconnected the call. “Our car will be here in five. Get your gear together. We’re not coming back here.”

He moved off her.

Show time.

After they had cleaned up and gone to the street, a sleek black town car slid to a stop at the curb. They were driven to Vauxhall and entered the SIS offices. His team was already assembled when he and Scarlett entered the conference room.

Sir Rodney was at the front of the room. He nodded to Scarecrow in a greeting of honor. Scarecrow nodded back. He scowled at Scarlett, but she never missed a beat. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

Scarecrow glanced at Hollywood. “Pick your jaw up off the floor. Professionalism, man.”

He met Wicked’s eyes and smiled. He clasped Scarecrow on the shoulder. The other guys all offered their greetings, and it felt damn good to be with them again.

Kessler and Stone were also there and the commander of the British commandos who would relay the information to his team when they were done.

“Thank you to Lieutenant Cooper and his team for assisting us today. We have solid intel that the shipment will be smuggled into the Port of Tilbury.”

Scarecrow was aware the Port was located on the Thames in Essex about twenty-five miles from the London Bridge. It was the largest deep-sea port and handled all the container traffic into London.

“We have undercover agents who have infiltrated the group, and we will be using those assets in these proceedings.” Someone passed out literature.

The room darkened and the screen in the front illuminated. A picture came up. It was of a dark-haired, blue-eyed man in a leather jacket. “The buyer is this man, Sean Duffy, and he runs the MBFF. We have the added satisfaction of snagging him in this dragnet.” Another picture came up, and Scarecrow recognized him. “This is the seller, Ivan ‘The Terrible’ Bure. He’s an arms dealer out of Kirikhanistan.”

Scarecrow knew the bald man who seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face. He’d interrogated him for information on Blue’s whereabouts.

After he studied the layout of the port and the location of the ambush by the joint British and American teams, they went to see a 3D construction of the area.

Sometime between the briefing and the model, Scarlett disappeared. He went to Sir Rodney. “Where’s Agent Kozlov?”

“She’s preparing for the mission. We will be shipping out soon.”

Scarecrow nodded. He went to turn away, but Sir Rodney clasped his shoulder. “A moment, Petty Officer Porter.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I wanted to thank you for your selfless act when you covered that grenade with your body, risking your life for your men and ours. It was well done.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“Crow,” Wicked called out. “We’re moving.”

Sir Rodney looked like he wanted to say something else, but he waved Scarecrow away. “Best of luck.”

“Thank you,” Scarecrow said, wishing he’d had a chance to talk to Scarlett before this operation got underway. He entered the hall, following his teammates, and there she was. She pulled him out of line into a sheltered part of the hallway. Without preamble, she kissed him hard on the mouth.

“Stay safe,” she whispered, then she was gone. It made him wonder what part she was going to play in this shindig.

They boarded a transport, and the truck rumbled along as Scarecrow checked his weapon. The SEAL team navy liaison, who was responsible for all their gear, had brought all the stuff he would need. The M4 was in excellent condition. Just the way he’d left it.

He thought of his mom back in Bellise. He’d called her and she’d been disappointed, but he assured her it would only be for a few days. Unwilling to leave her alone, her friend Susan had come to take her back to her place to stay until Scarecrow returned. He was thankful for the woman’s help in caring for his mom.

He knew Scarlett needed him. He was the one who had talked her into doing this. If anything happened to her… He pushed that thought aside.

“That’s one hot double-o-seven,” Hollywood said.

Scarecrow met his gaze across the transport. “She’s more than that, you hound dog,” Scarecrow said.

Hollywood howled, and everyone laughed. He turned to Kid, and they howled together. “She can do espionage on me anytime.”

Wicked nudged him. “How goes it? Your mom feeling better?”

“It comes and goes, but I took her to the doctor and they can’t find anything wrong with her. No stroke, no heart issue, no artery issues. All her labs came back clean. But she has these episodes where she can’t remember anything and thinks my dad is still alive.”

“Damn. What does your gut say?”

“Something’s off, but I can’t figure it out. She gets really agitated if I go up into the attic. But it could be because she doesn’t want to move to San Diego.”

“That’s understandable. She’s set in her ways. It’s her home and yours, too. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s not.”

Wicked grunted as the transport came to a stop and they all filed out. “Spread out and cover the perimeter,” LT said as he followed Wicked. They were in a warehouse district, the flat building surrounded by a parking lot, but there was plenty of cover. He pulled out his binoculars. In the distance, he made out a truck that turned toward their location. It pulled up moments later, and several men got out along with a car full of MB Freedom Fighters. They milled about until he heard motorcycles off in the distance. Their engines got louder as he made out two slight figures on each bike.

They came to a stop even as the sellers and MBFF turned to face them.

First one dismounted the bike, then the other. Guns bristled as Sean walked across the pavement. He stopped dead and stared. Scarecrow could see the obvious shock on his face when, in unison, they pulled off their helmets. Tresses spilled out, caught on the wind that tossed the strands around like the tails of a kite. It was Kat and Scarlett, only her hair was now as red as Kat’s.

His jaw dropped open. No wonder they needed her for this mission. She and Kat were the undercover operatives. Yana Kozlov. He rolled her name around in his head. It seemed surreal that he’d gone home to take care of business and he had somehow ended up back in the UK in the company of a British spy who was searching for a war criminal.

She was dressed in black leather that gloved her tight body, accentuating every curve, the red of her hair stark against the black. That alone was enough to distract the terrorists and the arms dealer. He immediately recognized Ivan the Terrible. All the players were in place.

He saw Kid raise his rifle and sight down the scope. Scarecrow, his body thrumming with the inactivity, waited for the word from Scarlett.

Scarlett had to hand it to the man, Sean Duffy was a brash son of a bitch. The meeting at the Tilbury docks, a vulnerable position, yet one of power. He had to know he was being watched.

“What the hell is this? Maeve? I thought you were dead.”

“Ta Sean, do I look dead,”

“You don’t.” He moved across the pavement and caught her up in an embrace, then planted a kiss on her lips. He turned to Kat and said, “You be keeping this information tight to the vest, I’d say, Bridget O’Toole.”

“With my sister’s life hanging in the balance, I’d say that was my secret to keep.”

“It is indeed.”

Scarlett eyed the shipment. “Are we going to be here all day? Let’s get to it.”

The report had listed quite the arsenal, including AK-47s, grenade launchers, Uzis, Centex, and some crates that were too well guarded to get near.

Bure reached in and pulled out a weapon and handed it to Sean. He immediately handed it to her.

Her awareness sizzled as she inspected the weapon, throwing the bolt, checking the sight. Yeah, these were the ones stolen from Coronado. She thought most of the weapons had been found and seized by the Americans.

It was a surprise that Bure had them.

“Ammo?”

Bure raised a brow in a practiced motion. “You did not request it.”

“Patronizing me, are you, Bure? Sure as I’m not in the mood.” Scarlett tossed the weapon into the crate. “Test firing is what I’m after or the deal is off.”

Bure’s eyes narrowed. His men inched forward like trained dogs. A look passed between her and Kat. Just what they needed—a bunch of trigger-happy blokes with enough firepower to start a small war. It’d be a bloodbath she had no intention of starting.

A few feet away, Sean, leaning against the side of the truck with his arms folded, waited with the patience of a man who knew exactly what her alter ego Maeve was capable of. “She’s after it now.”

Scarlett waited a moment, meeting Bure’s pale blue gaze, and when the man said nothing, she turned toward the bikes. Kat trailed behind her, the American operative looking her mean-assed best, and Bure’s men were working at not succumbing to the distraction of her beauty. Kat might look like a runway model, but she exuded the kind of edginess that kept the index fingers of Bure’s men close to their triggers.

“O’Toole.”

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder with a look that said she’d get her weapons somewhere else. Bure flicked a hand, and one of his men, a hulking giant with caveman features, moved to a crate and produced the ammo.

Scarlett was on Bure in an instant, gripping him by the throat with one hand and squeezing. Bure choked and clawed at her hand. Kat drew her weapon on the hulk before the man could move toward his boss.

“Didn’t I warn you not to screw with me?” Her rage was staged. She’d expected Bure to make a show of power. But Maeve O’Toole had a short, nasty temper.

Bure’s face turned a darker shade as he grappled at Scarlett’s grip. His legs softened. The giant growled.

“Maeve,” Kat said tiredly, her weapon to the hulk’s temple. “Wait until this is over if you want to kill him. He’s no use to us dead.”

After a moment longer, Scarlett released his windpipe. Sean hadn’t moved, his reaction no more than lifting an eyebrow. Bure swore in Russian, rubbing his throat and coughing. He’d have the imprint of her fingers to remind him not to be so stupid.

He righted his clothing, then cleared his throat. “Forgive me, O’Toole,” Bure said easily.

Scarlett glared as she turned back to load the weapon. Kat blocked the giant from getting closer as Bure led them to where a target dummy was already set up. Scarlett didn’t waste a moment and opened fire. The others flinched and lurched back, cursing.

She inspected her target. “The sight’s off.”

Bure looked at the dummy. The head was gone. He turned his gaze on Scarlett.

“Don’t scew with me again.” Scarlett tossed the weapon at him, forcing him to catch it. “Load them up.”

Scarlett whipped out a cell phone and made a call. Within a minute, two trucks rolled onto the acreage. Undercover SIS hopped out.

“Payment?” Scarlett asked.

Bure put his hand on the crate, meeting her gaze head on. “Cash. Now.”

Scarlett inspected him from head to toe. Bure’s jaw was square, and he dressed rough, but this man was no pushover. Getting a few hundred assault rifles out of his and MBFF’s hands was significant, but these weapons had cost two American Marine military police their lives, and Scarlett wanted the lives to mean something by getting them back. It wouldn’t make up for what had been lost, but it was a victory.

Scarlett waved. SIS agents hustled forward with her payment. Bure laid the case on the creates, opened it carefully, then flipped through a stack of bills before shutting it and handing it over to the giant without a glance. It would take a currency expert to figure out it was all counterfeit.

She examined each crate. She wouldn’t put it past the jerk to fill the others with rocks. The last of the crates were loaded, and her gaze went to the armed guards on top of the buildings, in perches that were made for surveillance. The bustling area of Essex was to the left, the sea to the right. The port was in constant motion.

“Tell me, O’Toole. What was it like to be dead?”

“Peaceful.” Scarlett gave the man a smug look that was sinister and real. Bure’s expression didn’t change.

An uneasy feeling made the hair stand up on the back of her neck; her attention narrowed.

She exchanged a look with Kat, who had gone suddenly tense.

Sean pushed off the truck and walked slowly across the pavement. When he got to her, he grabbed her violently by her jacket. He jerked her against him. “Maybe you could explain to me why it’s taken you so long to resurface and why there’s a rumor among our ranks that you’re an undercover double-o.”

She heard Bure chuckle, then say in Russian, “Kill them all and take the shipment.”

She could only think to stall for time. Kat went to raise her weapon, and Scarlett shook her head. Kat knew what was said and Bure’s intentions.

“Are you crazy, man? I had to lay low, and I ain’t no stinking government toady.”

“Is that so? Well, we’ve got something planned that I think you’ll be interested in. When I’m done with you, you will beg me for death. Today, the elitist parliament will be reduced to rubble.”

“What are you going on about?”

“There’s a bomb beneath it, love.”

“I thought we lost the warhead.”

“Ha, that was just a decoy. After what they did to those Kirikhanistan rebels, we knew the Americans would send a team in for the warhead. So Bure provided us with another one that he generously obtained from the Chinese.”

Oh, God. She could only be thankful that everyone was hearing this through her comm. “Where is the bomb, Sean? You’re never going to get out of here alive. You might as well give it up.”

“These are the last words you and your sister will ever hear. I’ll make it quick.”

She didn’t wait for him to follow through. “Now,” she shouted and both she and Kat hit the deck. He pointed the gun at her, and she squeezed her eyes closed.

That’s when all hell broke loose.