Page 2 of Dirty Ex-Mas
Like normal.
I’ll admit seeing David threw me off my game a bit. I hadn’t been expecting to see anyone I knew at this party. Then,boom, the secret love of my life and my ex. So, yeah, I was shook. You could say that moment was the beginning of the end for me. In retrospect, I don’t think I handled the next few minutes quite as stealthily as I could have.
I scooted around the perimeter of the room, away from the fireplace toward the front facing windows. The room was enormous, and filled with guests, so slowly making my way around the perimeter was the smartest way to move about without drawing attention to myself. I held my back toward the wall, and kept moving, trying to find a spot from where I could see Reed more clearly without the throng of people blocking my view.
The way I saw it was, if I could see him then he could see me, at which point I would bowl him over by my beauty and he would profess his undying love. Because I was dressed to kill and there was no way he’d be able to resist me.
Which was why, instead of checking forStep Sevenand confirming the prior six steps, I fantasized about getting Reed alone in a room upstairs.
Mistake number two.
It was a good fantasy too—his hand slipping in the slit of my dress, right at the upper thigh, curving around to grab my bare ass cheek, because in fantasies I go commando, then leaning in and kissing that sensitive spot behind my ear while my hands grip at the huge muscles of his—
“—you all for coming tonight.”
I’d heard that voice and all I could think was,holy shit, the speeches!
Not to mention,who was my mark?
And,fuck, where was my position?
I’d tried to review the steps in my mind but I couldn’t remember what step I was on.
So, you know:Shit. Shit. Shit.
I regrouped.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Review the steps.
Step Four - Identify the mark.
Step Five - Get into position.
Squeezing through a group of people to a small clearing, I stood tiptoe, but saw nothing.
“Excuse me.” I’d pushed past another group, all of whom had been standing way too close together to be normal, which finally afforded me a clear shot to the front of the room. No pun intended.
And then everything really went to hell in a handbasket.
I realized I knew who the speaker (and my mark) was at the same time a deep, sexy voice whispered in my ear, “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Startling me.
Except the more accurate description, instead of startled, would have been: made me jump and shriek with my hands flying in the air sending my clutch in one direction and my gun in the other. Disarming and dis-positioning me in one move.
Which about brings me to now. . .
1
Reed
ONE WEEK BEFORE
“Roberts, you and Murphy track this down, see if it has any bite to it.”
The FBI director drops a file on my desk, a huge “Confidential” stamped in red letters on the front. I flip open the front cover and skim the overview and the pages that follow.
