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“We didn’t expect this to be easy. Tempest is a professional. Hunter One, stick to the plan. Seduce her to your room and use the injector. It’s the same drug Hunter Two mixed in the drink,” Kyele instructed in their comms.
“Hunter One copy.”
“Hunter Two copy,” Kjar said as he left Rook to circle the room.
Hahn and Dorian chimed in with their confirmations next.
Rook moved toward the left, the last known location for Tempest. Within a few feet, he spotted her. She leaned against the wall behind her while a tall man with dark blond hair stood in front of her with one hand propped beside her head, caging her in smoothly.
Blond? That couldn’t be her choice for the night. He didn’t think she’d suddenly change her method of operating. Pretending to sip from his glass, Rook spoke. “Hunter One needs identity of blond male talking with target.”
Kjar responded instantly. “Hunter Two has eyes on. Give me a moment to send image to Unit Leader.”
Once Kyele received the image, he’d run it through the system and Rook would know everything he needed.
“Image sent.”
“Image received,” Kyele answered. “Standby for results.”
Rook cruised the room, smiled when he made eye contact and joined a group talking about their latest business venture in a mining colony. He nodded at appropriate pauses and laughed at the right cues.
Occasionally, he checked on Tempest and her companion. Men strode by and smiled at her. Two, Rook recognized from her file. She didn’t seem to bear any lingering feelings for past lovers. Several attended the Ice Ball and offered her a head nod of acknowledgment.
Kyele came back. “Ito Sayelle. Wanted for forced home invasions and multiple counts of assault on his planet. Warrant out for his arrest for stabbing an ambassador’s life partner during a home invasion. I’m contacting authorities to apprehend.”
“Stand down or continue with target?” Rook asked as he broke away from the group with a polite excuse.
“Hunter Three, move and escort Ito away for authorities. Stay on task, Hunter One,” Kyele directed.
Hahn entered the ballroom and strode toward Tempest and Ito. She glanced up with a soft arch of the brow. Hahn whispered in Ito’s ear and the other man paled. Hahn clasped his wrist in a brutal hold and led him away.
Tempest raised two fingers to her lips and muffled a chuckle. Laughter softened her face, added an element that had been missing from her cold visage. Viewing her holo image had done nothing for Rook before. The body she flaunted in the exquisitely cut dress didn’t call to him either but the laughter, the laughter drew him.
“Hunter One moving in again on target.”
Tempest caught his eye as he approached. Rook slowed his walk to a sedate saunter, dropped his shoulders in a swagger and sent her a half smile he’d been told by women worked like a charm.
Her head cocked to the side and she let her gaze dip in appraisal to take in his full appearance. Rook felt the stroke of her eyes like a lover’s hand over his chest, torso, down to his legs. Did she pause at his groin? His cock stirred and hardened, forcing him to adjust his stride to compensate.
When she raised her eyes to his again, interest gleamed.
Got you, he thought in triumph.
Rook sidestepped party goers in his path, exchanged his empty glass for something from the tray Kjar carried and downed it in one gulp to add to the persona created for this assignment. Roarke Callim was a rich playboy out for a good time with a trail of broken hearts behind him.
He stopped in front of Tempest, taking the exact spot the blond man had held. Up close, her looks were more stunning than any image file could capture. The angles of her cheekbones, the slender nose and full lips created a face worthy of several backward glances.
Perfectly curved brows arched over her eyes. Pulse steady, firmly in character, Rook stared into those pale blue orbs. Cold as ice, the humor long gone and no trace of interest. The attraction he’d noted during his approach was nowhere in sight. Had he fucked up already?
She didn’t greet him or observe the typical polite courtesy he’d run into from others here. Her gaze shifted to a space over his shoulder as if bored. Rook thought quickly and moved to lean his shoulder on the wall beside her and crossed his legs at the ankle. “Please tell me you’re as bored as I am?”
He had a perfect view of her profile and her expression didn’t crack. In fact, her upper lip curled in disdain. “Do I know you?”
Her tone held a sharp clipped bite intended to send him on his way. It had the opposite effect and his cock strained harder against the expensively cut pants.
“Not yet,” he murmured, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper. “Roarke Callim.”
She snorted and pushed off the wall. Rook stilled. She was leaving? He straightened and slid in front of her, halting her escape. She sighed and tipped her head back to meet his gaze.
Everything about her attitude challenged him. The resistance gave his mission an added edge and his blood pumped faster. Rook wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t be allowed to pick another lover tonight and slip from their grasp.
She sidestepped, prepared to go around him. Rook moved the slightest bit, blocking her but not touching or reaching for her arm. He was almost certain she expected that by the minute tensing of her shoulders.
Going with his gut, he dropped the playboy mannerism, lost the slouch and straightened to his full height to tower over her by a good six inches. He let his natural deep voice flow through instead of the slick cultured tones he’d practiced.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked, infusing his words with a sense of self-deprecation.
