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Not wanting anyone else to hear in case it put him in danger of an abduction, she whispered, “There’s a slight wisp of hair in the back being naughty and tapping your shoulder. Might want to take care of that.”
His head jerked to the side to check but Seraphina was already in motion, moving deeper into the room to better see her choices. She wouldn’t sex share with a Volvian anyway.
Possessive males. Unrelenting when they decided they’d found their “one”, whatever that meant.
No, she wanted her usual. Dark and dangerous. Coco would want her to enjoy herself to the fullest to mark the five-year anniversary of her death and Seraphina didn’t plan to disappoint.
***
Rook smoothed a handdown the crisp black material tailored to his measurements. The dark colored suit guaranteed he’d stand out in the surroundings geared toward a winter white décor but not enough to appear less than the wealthy guests in the resort below. The high collar hid the transmitter and mic disguised as silver button embellishments on the jacket. His pants fit loose along the leg, giving him room to maneuver and fight if necessary.
“You understand what the objective is?” Kyele asked from the mini comm propped on the table in the lavish suite reserved under the name Roarke Callim.
“Yes. Tempest has followed a pattern over the last three years that always starts with the Ice Ball since she started her killing spree. This will be year four and there’s no reason to think she’d deviate from her routine.”
Such a small glaring mistake for a woman who’d been flawless in the execution of the men she’d gone after. No prints left behind, no genetic material to identify her. Yet she’d foolishly created a routine for them to discover.
The few images on file from this particular party had led to the Alliance connecting her to the subsequent assassinations of Oolun’s key people around the same time. Habits were the downfall of some of the biggest criminals.
On the one hand, Rook wanted to applaud her. Those seven lives wouldn’t be missed. On the other, as an ordinary citizen of the Alliance, she couldn’t be allowed to kill with impunity.
“Remember, bring her in alive, if possible. This isn’t a kill mission,” Kyele counseled. “We need answers only she can provide.”
Seduce, drug and abduct a woman who provided a service by ridding the world of vermin. Only in the shadowy world he existed in did that make sense. Rook shook off his reluctance. He’d done this before and slept at night and would again. He understood what needed to be done.
On this night, at this ball, Tempest came, partied and selected a male partner to spend an evening of sex sharing with. Then she vanished before the male woke. A few hours later, she’d take out a member of Jarad’s team.
Which made Rook bait, plain and simple. He didn’t have a problem with the sexual aspect of the mission. He’d sex shared for less noble reasons. The others would have volunteered but Kyele pointed out Tempest had a type and Rook fit it.
Dark-haired, brown eyed, and dangerous. Her last lovers fit that description without deviation. That ruled Kjar out with his white hair that couldn’t be dyed or cut. Hahn and Dorian would have worked but Dorian didn’t have the charm to win their target over. Hahn was too brash and from their intel that didn’t attract Tempest.
She liked cocky and arrogant but in a laid back manner. Hahn couldn’t fake laid back if he tried.
“Hunter One, clear for arrival,” came Kjar’s voice in his earpiece.
That was the signal for Rook to go down to the ball. His comm, which he’d use to stay in touch with the team, fit into the hoop earring at the top of Rook’s ear and should go unnoticed under scrutiny. The numerical tattoos on his left fingers contained tracking ink in case he lost contact with Ghost Unit.
“Hunter One on the move,” he responded, closing the door of his suite firmly behind him.
No one crowded the hall on this level. It was reserved for the truly wealthy who came to the charity ball every year to donate credits for the less fortunate while eating and drinking to excess. The irony never ceased.
Pushing open the emergency exit, he took the stairs ten flights down. It gave him a secondary opportunity to check the placement of the security cams at each floor. In addition, the door at the bottom would put him near the entrance of the ballroom where he could walk directly inside.
“Target has arrived, Hunter One. Silver dress, silver heels. Far left of ballroom when you enter,” Hahn reported.
Hahn was disguised as a guard at the door. Kjar was a server for the night and would mingle through the crowd, keeping an eye on Tempest until Rook made contact. Dorian waited in a suite next to the one Rook had left. He’d provide back up to subdue Tempest should Rook need assistance.
At the entrance to the ballroom, Rook inclined his head toward Hahn but didn’t speak. He strolled in, one hand in his pants pocket and the other loose at his side as he glanced at the attendees.
“Would you like a drink?”
Rook turned to his right, accepted the drink and Kjar murmured, “She made me for a Volvian.”
Surprising but not a hard stop for the mission. “Were you able to slip something in her drink?”
The slow acting sedative would give Rook time to get her to his room, away from prying eyes, and knock her out before Dorian came in to help him carry her out.
A look of displeasure crossed Kjar’s face. “Yes, but she poured it into one of the decorative pots after pretending to drink it the moment she walked away.”
