A smile crossed his face, one which would scare those who didn’t know him. Hell, even some who did should have been worried by that expression. “That’s my girl.”

  The rest of breakfast was spent talking about Grams and people around home. She was glad it was this one who’d shown up as opposed to Ethan—he wouldn’t have let it go that easily. He would have pressed on what she’d gone through and how she was recovering from that. With Beau, he didn’t push. She must have passed the test.

  She refused to say she was fine—there were still nightmares. A smile flickered over her lips as she thought of Masters being on top of her.

  “Share.”

  She blinked and looked at her cousin. “Huh?”

  “Whatever is making you smile that way?”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  He scowled at her, but she brushed it off.

  “You don’t scare me, Beau. We’re family.”

  “I’ll tell Masters.”

  She ate a bit then glanced back to him. “Sure you want to do that? Not positive how good you are in with him right now given all the harassment you’ve been giving Mino. You know he loves her.”

  Beau harrumphed and dug back into his food.

  “She starts it.”

  “Perhaps, but Masters is going to finish it. Christ, man, if you want her just ask her on a date. What’s stopping you?”

  Emerald-green eyes slammed into her. “What’s stopping you?”

  She leaned back and finished up her most current piece of bacon. “Well, for one, I don’t swing that way so I have no need to take her for one. Two, Mino and I have gone out for meals together. I like her.”

  “I meant Masters.”

  Her stomach bypassed her feet as it sank below the marble floor. “Why would I ask him out?”

  Beau reclined in his chair, tipping so the front feet were off the floor. “Let me let you in on a secret, little cuz. You would have been better off instantly denying it like you do most things that it’s just an honest no for. How long you been interested in the boss man? And does he know about it? Have you slept with him? Is that what was going on over here?”

  She held up her hands, wanting to end his tirade before he got ramped up. “Let me stop you right there. I don’t have a thing for him. I’m not interested in him. No, I haven’t slept with him, and fuck you for thinking that’s what I’d be doing on an op. I’m not you, Beau. I can keep my pants closed, along with my legs.”

  His smile grew bigger.

  “Is that a fact?” he drawled.

  “Fact.” She curved her hand around the coffee mug and wished for a moment he was a mute. Or not here. But the breakfast was wonderful and so that almost made up for it. Almost.

  “Here are some facts for you, Anabelle Lee. I’ve known you since you were in diapers, hell, I changed some of them. I’ve seen you with all kinds of guys and there is one thing that you had in common with all the ones you liked. When you think or talk about them, you squint your left eye. Just a bit, but I notice it.”

  She drew back. “Liar.”

  “That what you want to go with?” He rocked forward and got to his feet. “Come with me.”

  She followed him to a mirror in her front room. He positioned her before him.

  “Who’s our boss?”

  “Masters.” Fuck. She saw it the moment she said his name. A miniscule change, but leave it to her eagle-eyed cousin to pick up on it.

  “Any more excuses and lies you want to get off your chest before we continue this conversation?”

  “I don’t even want to continue this conversation, so we can let it drop and I’ll be just fine with that.”

  “Life’s full of disappointments. Get used to it.” He guided her back to the table where their breakfast remnants remained. “So what’s the story between the two of you? Do I have to kill him?”

  “There’s not any story, Beau. Let it go. We pick on each other. That’s it. There’s a line we don’t cross.” She pursed her lips. “Like you and Mino.”

  He narrowed his gaze and she pushed back from the table once more.

  “Anabelle Lee,” he warned.

  “I have to get to the club. I think it’s time for a surprise spot inspection. I’ll be back. If you’re coming with me, you need to put on a suit. I don’t have men working for me who can’t dress like they don’t have more than two pennies to rub together. Put your hair back in a ponytail or one of those damn manbuns and clean up.”

  Thirty minutes later, she met him at the door and nodded at his attire. He looked her over and groaned.

  “I’m going to be killing guys for trying to get into your pants. What the fuck are you wearing?”

  She looked down at herself. “It’s a banded jumpsuit. What? I wear tight clothes and show off my assets. It’s what I do.”

  “It’s a damn good thing Grams isn’t seeing you in that. Let’s go.” He held the door for her.

  She reached for her white fur coat and slid it on. The outfit had racerback tank stripes, a zipper down the back and side torso cutouts. There wasn’t much left to the imagination for sure. Finished off with a pair of fitted pant legs of the same color and her boots. Also navy blue, like the clothing, were her lace-up ankle booties with a heel of five and three-quarters combined with a hidden platform. She loved them and had missed them.

  Rubbing her cheek on the fur, she waited for Beau to take her arm and escort her to the waiting Land Rover. He held the door and she slipped into the back seat.

  “I also wonder what Masters does when he sees you in attire like this.”

  So did she, but she wasn’t allowing herself to think about him right now. She immersed herself in the role of Ana Volkov as Beau drove. All the while, though, she did wonder how her cousin had gotten there, since there weren’t more car tracks.

  Knowing him, he parachuted in then humped it through the night. Or if that wasn’t enough of a challenge, he would have parachuted onto the roof and let himself in one of the windows up there.

  As he parked in front of the club, she eliminated thoughts of everything but the job at hand, including Masters.

  * * * *

  Masters stood immobile beside Bailey. Her husband, Ivan, was on her other side, arm around her waist, supporting her. Silence filled the room as they said their final farewells to his friend and the man who she had known as an uncle for most of her life.

  They were the only three left, as everyone else had departed. Masters wasn’t going to leave until she did. Slicing his gaze to the left, he watched her. Nothing. Her face was a blank slate. No tears, no emotion. No anything.

  “Bailey,” he began.

  “Not now, please, Masters. We hadn’t necessarily made up after everything, but he was still loved by me.”

  “He never doubted your love, not once.”

  She shifted and Ivan lowered his head to kiss her temple. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk for a bit. I’ll be in the back if you need me.” He spoke Russian then slipped away without another sound.

  Masters moved his line of sight from Bailey to the framed photo of McNeal. An old service picture. He looked regal and handsome.

  “If you require some time off,” he began, only to close his mouth when she shook her head.

  “No, I’d just assume work. So if something comes up and you need me, send for me.” She raked a hand through her short, spiked hair and rolled her shoulders before moving to the side and claiming a seat.

  “I will.” He took a chair beside her, stretching his legs and hooking his ankles.

  Silence between them, they passed the time, lost in their thoughts until Ivan walked back in and stopped beside his wife. From his peripheral vision, Masters witnessed the tenderness in Ivan’s expression as he cupped Bailey’s cheek.

  He averted his eyes while getting to his feet. “I have to get going. If you need anything, Bailey, let me know.”

  She met his gaze. “I want the fucker who did this. You find out who and send me.”

  He thought for a moment, not wanting to approve those heading for personal vendettas, but damn if he didn’t want a piece of the fucker, as well.

  “I’ll keep you informed, Ivan.”

  With a brief nod, he strode from the church and into the waiting vehicle. After a short drive, he climbed into the jet and closed his eyes as they began taxiing down the runway. He would get some sleep now. He’d been up since he’d gotten the news about his friend.

  * * * *

  The front door slammed and he listened to the consistent tapping of her heels on the marble floor. His body shifted from waiting to ready—and not for a fight, but for passion, sex and everything else that he experienced when he got the chance to look upon Anabelle Lee.

  For a few moments there wasn’t anything, then in a blink of an eye she stood in the doorway to the living room. Her brilliant-red hair snagged his attention, as usual.

  “You okay?”

  He remained on the sofa, slouched back, a drink dangling from his fingers.

  “Been better. How’s the surveillance going?”

  “As it should. How’s Bailey?” She tugged on the fingers of her black leather gloves one at a time until they’d been removed.

  He paused, yanking his attention from her movements. Damn, even that is sexy when she does it. “She’s a hard one to read. I don’t know her as well. I would guess hurting, but she wants the man who did it.”

  Anabelle Lee removed her coat next, leaving her in a tight gold dress that stopped mid-thigh, hugging her curves. He gulped and tightened his hold on the glass.

  Holy fuck, she’s hot. Fuck if he didn’t want to lower the zipper, tooth by tooth, exposing her creamy skin to his gaze and touch.

  She threw the coat to the back of a nearby chair, not even looking in its direction, just lobbing it with an easy toss. “Didn’t think you had conclusive evidence what happened to McNeal was intentional yet. Has that changed?”

  “No.” He lifted the tumbler and took a solid drink of the amber liquid. “She doesn’t care. Bailey, however, feels he was murdered.”

  “She’s got good instincts. If she feels that, she may be right.” Anabelle Lee made her way to the bar and fixed herself a drink.

  Masters ogled her ass in the gold sequin dress, wishing he were drunk enough to not know better and go to her, yank up that material and bend her over bar. It was so painted on her body, he doubted she even had panties on.

  Easier access.

  “How well do you know her?”

  Anabelle Lee downed her drink in one gulp then yanked on the shoulder strap and shrugged. “Not as well as I’d like. I met her a few times when we were searching for Ethan. But it’s not like we have a standing date for dinner. I know her sheet and I figure she’s even better than that if you brought her to your team.”

  “Why is that?”

  She gave him a quick look before creating another drink for herself and taking a long, slow sip before she answered. “Because you, Masters, hate failure. You want the best around you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Of course. That’s why I’m here.” She flicked her wrist and drained the rest of her drink. “I’ll be back.”

  More of that temptation in heels and gold sashayed her ass away from him. He swore a few times and finished his drink as well, while she was in another room. When she returned there was no longer a dress covering her figure. No, this time it was workout pants and a black oversized sweatshirt with the Georgia Tech logo on the front. She’d thrown her hair up in a ponytail and had fuzzy on socks.

  The difference stunned him and yet either look made him hard as stone and wanting to fuck her. He groaned and shifted on the seat. She vanished into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later carrying what he guessed to be a mug of tea. Instead of sitting across from him, she claimed the other side of the sofa he was on and tucked her legs beneath her.

  “You never answered my question. Are you okay?”

  “I did. I said I’ve been better.” How the hell does she smell like that? Moonlight and roses. I fucking swear I’ve never come across anyone who smells as sinfully delicious as this woman.

  “Look, you come after us and make us talk in situations like this. He was your friend.”

  Masters looked at her, unused to this side of her. “I’m the boss. I’m allowed to ask that kind of questions.”

  Anabelle Lee shrugged and took a sip of her tea before licking her lips. “I’m a woman.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m not following. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “Not a goddamn thing. Precisely the same as you stating you’re the boss—it means shit. Despite it all, everything we do, the fights, the sniping, we’re friends. I’m here if you want to talk to me.”

  Not quite what I want to talk to her about. His had less verbal and more tactile or physical communication. Although he wasn’t averse to hearing his name fall from her lips in a breathless tone.

  “Ready to tell me about what happened between you and Carlos and the nightmares you’ve been having?”

  Her gaze shuttered and he figured he’d gotten to her.

  “Sure.”

  Had he been standing, a breeze would have been able to take him out. He’d not imagined she’d agree. Not in a million years. Anabelle Lee was the second most private person he knew, her cousin Beau being the first. Not that Ethan was a chatterbox, but the man appeared as one next to her.

  “Sure?” he echoed.

  “Yes.”

  Well, fuck.

  “I was kidding, Anabelle Lee, you don’t have to do this.”

  She sipped her tea and watched him with those unblinking cobalt-blue eyes. They weren’t judgmental or anything similar. “Carlos is the cause of my nightmares,” she said in a soft tone, breaking the silence, her drawl so thick he almost didn’t understand her.

  Her fingers held the mug so tight, he saw the color leech out from them.

  “When I saw him again, all the old memories came flooding back. But the second he threatened to kill my family, I agreed to go with him, just to get his guns off the boys.”

  He set his glass on the end table and angled toward her, eyes fixated her.

  “Ethan and Beau had seen his psychotic mindset before me. I was too enamored with the idea of being in love,” she admitted, an overwhelming amount of self-loathing apparent in her voice. “The more they tried to warn me away from him, the more I hung on because I was determined to prove them wrong. I should have listened. Their pushing eventually had me marrying him. I’m not saying it was their fault—I’m the one who married the bastard—but it was all to show my independence.”

  Her gaze glossed over and he couldn’t tell what she was looking at anymore, him or the memories she spoke of.

  “I found out what he was truly like when I came home early one day. Early as in a few days early, not an hour or so. The house was silent, so I thought he was at work.” She shuddered and took a moment to center herself.

  Masters had to force himself to remain in his seat and not move closer to her, just to put his arms around her and offer some strength. The agony in her words ripped him apart as if someone had torn into him with razor-sharp claws.

  “I guess I was partially correct. He was working, just not what I had expected him to be doing.”

  He had a feeling he would regret asking his next question. “What was he doing?”

  “He was cutting into women while he fucked them. The bedroom had been covered in plastic and he was”—she gulped—“digging little sharp points into them as he screwed them. They couldn’t talk, because they had no tongues. Other men watched and some were fucking each other as he took the women.” She shook her head. “I didn’t confront him. I snuck away and called the cops.”

  It was shame he heard this time. Bile churned in his gut—this was all new to him.

  “You said ‘them’. There was more than one in the room?”

  “Yes. I counted four women lying there, tied spread-eagle so they were there waiting for him whenever he wanted them. I don’t know who they were or how he got them there. Like I said, I left and called the cops.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I don’t know. This was right when you hired me. I had come home early to tell him I was leaving for my first mission in Iran. Your final words to me were not to do anything to get noticed by the cops, don’t do anything stupid. I don’t know how he got away, probably has a contact in the police. I waited until I saw the cars arriving before I left. The papers never mentioned him by name.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Anabelle Lee.” It is mine because of the words I told you. If you’d not killed that bastard, I would hunt him down and gut him like a motherfucking fish.

  She snorted. “Sure, it was. I should have killed him then.”

  “Did you have enough to take them all out?”

  “Doubtful, but he would have been dead.”

  “And you could be, too.” Not an idea he found appealing at all.

  One shoulder rose and fell. “He would be dead.”

  Masters wanted to go to her and pull her close, but he remained where he was. “And? How does that help your family? Or any of your friends and those who love you?”

  “My actions would have kept him from hurting others. You know he told me he increased the number of women he went after to hurt. Said just because he could, he wanted to do it. As a punishment for me calling the cops and leaving him.”

  “How did he find out it was you?”

  “Like I said before, I think he had someone in the police department. Or a few people. I don’t know.” She put down her mug and withdrew her hands until only the very tips of her fingers peeked out from the material of her sweatshirt.

  This was the first time since he’d met her that Masters had seen Anabelle Lee appear vulnerable. The blank look, the shivers that rolled over her, the hitching breaths and more.

  Masters got up and moved nearer to her until, when he again sat, his thigh touched part of her leg.

  “What happened after you left with him?”