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Mace hated to agree with his nemesis, but that about summed it up. “I’m wishing the target hadn’t picked a nightclub that markets nostalgia. Some of these music styles should have stayed dead.”
“Tell me about it,” Striker agreed.
“The target is coming out of the restrooms,” Friday informed them, obviously eager to get everyone back on track. “She’s with one of the CommTECH scientists. It looks like they’re having a girls’ night out. I’ve never had one of those.” She sounded almost wistful.
“One day, bébé.” Striker purred the words, making Mace roll his eyes.
“If I hear you two making out, I’m gonna vomit,” he said.
“Just locate our target and let’s get this over with,” Striker said. “She’s wearing red. And she’s shorter than you, so don’t forget to look down.”
“Everybody’s shorter than Mace.” Friday sounded confused.
“That’s the joke,” Striker said.
“And, no matter how many times I hear it, it still isn’t funny,” Mace grumbled.
“Remember, she has a thing for Vikings,” Friday needlessly added. “Play up the fact you look the part.”
r /> Unlike her, he wasn’t new to this game. “I know,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was there when we went over this.”
“And you have to smile so you don’t scare her off,” Friday carried on, oblivious to the fact she was pissing him off—as usual. “Or maybe it’s better if you don’t smile. That can be scary, too. Just focus on trying not to say anything stupid.” She paused. “Maybe he shouldn’t talk at all,” she said to her husband.
Mace growled as his team leader laughed. He’d deal with them later. Right now, he had an innocent woman to entrap. One who’d spent her whole life in the sheltered corporate world. He’d seen videos of her talking to the press. She was tiny, delicate, fragile. The kind of woman who’d burst into tears at the sight of him and make him feel like a monster.
But then, that’s exactly what he was now—a genetic freak. A monster.
When a flash of red caught his eye, he turned his head to follow it. And everything within him stood to attention. Keiko Sato was even more alluring than the video images had conveyed. From her hip-skimming, cherry-black hair to her petite curves, she oozed sensuality.
But as she turned her oval face toward him and her large, dark eyes crinkled with laughter at something her friend said, it wasn’t her beauty that made him stumble and his palms begin to sweat. It was the voice that whispered in his mind at the sight of her. A voice he hadn’t heard before that moment.
A voice that wasn’t his but belonged to the other half of his mutated DNA.
The animal that lived within him.
And it said, Mine.
Chapter Two
It was Keiko Sato’s birthday, and if she had just one wish, it was to get laid. But she didn’t want one of the suit-wearing, cosmetically enhanced men who populated her life. She wanted a great, big, hulking Viking of a man who wouldn’t talk her ear off. The most noise her perfect man would make would be grunts of satisfaction as he made her orgasm hard enough to see stars.
That was all she wanted. One night. Amazing sex. No chitchat. But, like most birthday wishes she’d made throughout the years, this one wasn’t going to materialize, either.
“I don’t remember nightclubs being this crowded,” her old college roommate, Abigail Dawson, said from beside her.
And there was the other reason Keiko didn’t see sex in her immediate future—her wingman had to be the most introverted woman on the planet.
“You really didn’t need to take me out for my birthday,” Keiko said again. “I would have been more than happy to hang out with you and the kittens in your apartment.”
“No.” Abigail shook her head determinedly, even though her eyes were wide with terror. “Every conversation we’ve had for months has revolved around you needing to let your hair down. All I’ve heard about is your need to get laid. So we’re going to get you laid. Even if it kills me.”
Keiko burst out laughing. “As romantic as that sounds, I’m honestly fine. Let’s go home and eat cake. There aren’t any Vikings here, anyway.”
Abigail tried to hide her relief, and Keiko loved her all the more for it. “You and your Vikings—really you just want some caveman to throw you over his shoulder and run off with you.”
“Without talking my ears off while he did it,” Keiko agreed as she surveyed the room, seeing exactly what she’d expected to see—delicate, designer men. “I might as well face facts. I’m living in the wrong age.”
Sensitive, educated men were the norm in her world. Most modern women didn’t want a Neanderthal throwback. And they had a point—feminism had won the battle of the sexes. Equality ruled, just as it should. But there were times when equality sucked, and between the sheets was one of them. In Keiko’s opinion, anyway.
