Page 1 of Centurion

CHAPTER 1

Jackie Harriger stood at the top of the stairs, looking into the grand hall below. A pantheon of Greek Gods and mythical creatures swirled in time with the music supplied by the orchestra. The masquerade ball celebrated haute couture, elite money, and the well-born people who ran the world. No, not the politicians or the latest IPO billionaire, but old money. They were the privileged and affluent men and women who whispered their desires to those in the highest of places.

The woman hosting the event wore a design Jackie had created. A one of a kind original. Jackie searched the sea of sheer chiffon, liquid silk, and sculpted velvet dresses. Her design was easy for her to pick out. The Greek styling and drape of the garment were enhanced with opulent embroidery of gold, royal blue, and silver threading. Her hostess had adorned the dress with a serpent bracelet that wound up her arm, a massive square diamond necklace, and matching earrings. But, this night, Jackie wasn’t there as a designer. No, tonight, her eyes moved from the designs and fabrics to the masks covering the faces of the ultra-wealthy.

“Anything yet?” the grumpy-assed voice in her ear asked.

She looked around to make sure she was alone before answering, “I’ve been here a total of three minutes, Joseph. Give me a break.” Jackie did not use the handrail to aid her descent down the staircase. Any woman of a certain breeding knew how to make an entrance. With her head held level, never looking at the stairs, she floated down the marble staircase.

She saw the turn of heads and ignored them. Of the elite in the room, she was in the top one percent of the top one percent. The people below her just didn’t know it. Born Gabrielle Jacqueline Xavier, the spoon in her mouth wasn’t silver but a red diamond-encrusted rhodium. Her father could buy and sell the richest people in that room many times.

“Centurion, we’ve confirmed yet another dark net mention of the gala,” Jewell King, the only operator in Guardian’s computer branch her father would allow her to work with, said over her comm device. Jackie, who went by the code name Centurion or Ronnie when she was working for Guardian, took a glass of champagne from a waiter as he paused beside her, then lifted it to her lips, whispering behind the crystal, “About Abrasha?”

“No, and that’s concerning. It was about a transaction, but that’s all I have right now. Damn it. I wish Con were working.” Jewell fell quiet after that comment.

“Ronnie, keep your eyes open. My gut tells me there’s more going on than just rumors of Abrasha attending,” Joseph growled.

She made a humming noise in acknowledgment and continued walking through the crowd. The press of people were adorned with beautiful gold and silver masks. Gilded visages of Zeus, Hercules, Apollo, and Ares covered men’s faces, while the women wore masks depicting Hera, Demeter, Athena, Artemis, and Aphrodite. Ronnie smiled behind her mask. She’d chosen Persephone, Queen of the Underworld and spring growth, as her mask. Persephone split her time between the underworldand Earth, explaining ancient Greek culture's seasons. It also summarized the dichotomy of her work for Guardian and her life outside those confines. When she was above ground, she was happy and warm. When she worked and hunted for Guardian, she became the darkness, lived in the shadows, and embraced the absence of light.

Ronnie moved through the crowd, looking for men of the general stature of Abrasha Molchalin and the sound of a Russian accent or the language itself. She skirted the crowd gathered around their hostess, listening to the conversations as she made her way through the crowd.

At the sound of a conversation in Russian, Ronnie changed directions. “Tracking,” she said as she pretended to take another sip of her champagne.

Ronnie weaved through the crowd, far enough behind the group of men, so she wouldn’t be noticed, yet close enough to ensure they didn’t duck into one of the many corridors leading away from the grand hall.

She walked past waiters carrying trays laden with Greek delicacies. The orchestra’s music floated in the air—a mix of modern songs and ancient melodies evoking the grandeur of bygone days. The gala’s exhibits were performance art pieces that brought the old Greek tales of heroes, gods, and villainous beasts to life. Ronnie lost sight of the men she was following, and with the finesse of a ballet dancer, she changed direction and moved through the crowd, backtracking her target. She went back to the last place she’d seen them.

The crowd around her swelled and blocked her turn. Ronnie realized too late she was too close to the men she’d been following. She dipped through a small opening and skittered around a plaster replica of a Grecian column. Not expecting the banquette seating behind it, Ronnie ran into the arm of the seat. The force with which she hit the furniture sent her forward.

Strong hands grabbed her and kept her from sprawling onto the floor. She twisted as she fell and managed to land in the lap of the man sitting on the couch. Her mask slipped down from the abrupt drop. The mask she stared at was one not many would wear. Hermes. The god of thieves, known for his quick wit and cunning.

A smile formed on the man’s lips. Recognition of that sexy-as-hell smile was instantaneous as she hissed, “What are you doing here?”

“Who? Who’s there? What happened?” Joseph’s voice grumbled in her ear.

“Standby,” Ronnie hissed and tapped her earpiece. “How?” She looked around her. No one noticed them in the dark little corner of the grand hall.

“Hello to you, too, Ronnie.” Con’s voice was filled with laughter. “I’m glad you decided to drop by.”

Ronnie narrowed her eyes and lifted her mask back into place. Just because the man was insanely good-looking …Wait, what? No. Just no. She tried to sit up, but it was next to impossible with the yards of silk around her. “What are you doing here?” she asked as she grabbed at the fabric and tried to leverage herself onto the couch, if not her feet.

“Centurion, update before I send in the cavalry.” That was Archangel.

Ronnie tapped her earpiece. “Con’s here.”

“What? Totally cool,” Jewell said with a laugh.

“How in the hell? That’s the most exclusive ticket in the world,” Fury growled.

“Who’s in your ear?” Con asked.

“Fuck my life. It is him. Can I never get a fucking break?” Joseph shouted.

“Why is he there?” Archangel asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out if you’d kindly give me the chance. Con, help me up, damn it.”

Con laughed and shoved his hand under her legs and behind her back, casually lifting heras he stood up. Damn, the man was strong. He deposited her on her feet, and she grabbed at him when her Jimmy Choo crystal hotfix pumps snagged in her dress. His arms banded around her, and she fell into him again. His strong body under his Armani tux had no give in it. That had confused her when she’d first met him. Her handlers had told her she would be taking a computer nerd with her on a HALO jump to that island. She didn’t expect the six-foot-three-inch Adonis she met in the hangar.

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