Chapter One
HEAT. DESIRE. ATTRACTION.
He watched her from across the ritzy Hyatt Regency Hotel bar, his attention riveted by her every move. Her every nuance. The sultry beat of a slow song filtered through the smoke-filled bar, echoing the thrum of awareness dancing through his body. She shifted in her chair, her baby-blue skirt riding high…exposing long, sexy legs.
Legs he’d love to have wrapped around his waist, her body pressed close.
His reaction to his target, the woman he’d been following for two days now, came as a surprise. He didn’t normally find his work distracting. But a woman like this one could make a man forget that business and pleasure didn’t mix. She could make a man debate the merits of crossing the line to do things he might later regret. A line he had no intention of crossing.
Nicole Ward sat among a group of people, all there to congratulate her sister, Brenda, for passing the bar exam. His target’s sleek blond hair still in the prim-and-proper knot she wore at work. He wondered what it took to get her to set it free, to let the woman run wild.
The idea of finding out appealed to him far too much.
He suspected she allowed the world to see only certain parts of her life. To see the uptight federal-prosecutor persona who lived for her job.
Even there, amongst a crowd, with a celebration underway, she remained reserved and well in check. There had to be another side to her…one she kept concealed. Perhaps too carefully. Perhaps hiding something she didn’t want explored.
Which was why he was here.
He intended to find out what was beneath her exterior.
Constantine Vega knew everything that a file could tell him about Nicole Ward, down to her shoe size. Seven. Narrow. She took two creamers in her coffee and drank at least three cups each morning, in place of breakfast, but not until she completed an hour in the gym.
She’d come straight out of the University of Texas here in Austin to work for her father’s law firm—a firm where decisions were made based on money, not justice. A job she’d excelled at.
Shortly after joining the law firm, she’d married her father’s young protégé, Mike Parker. Divorced a year later, she took back her maiden name, and left the firm to join the U.S. Attorney’s office, and now fought for people rather than power and wealth. From his observations, thus far, he thought that was true, but he had to know for sure.
After all, this blond beauty could very well hold his life in her hands. In just a few days, she’d know what few did—that he wasn’t the drug lord Alvarez’s right-hand man. What he was, was an undercover FBI agent who’d spent the past few years with Alvarez, preparing to take him down.
Alvarez could control people in high places; the mighty dollar, his weapon. Ironic, considering it was also the weapon of choice that Nicole’s father and ex-husband had chosen. When money didn’t work, Alvarez could find other ways to be persuasive. Constantine had to be sure Nicole couldn’t be influenced by money, as she once had been.
Tomorrow his team would arrest another big player in the cartel, and with that takedown, Constantine’s cover would be blown. Not a minute too soon, either. Just in time for him to testify against Alvarez. Although the cartel would see him dead before that happened…if given the chance.
Constantine chugged his beer with that thought, images of some of the things he’d seen, some of the things he’d done, twisting his gut. Hating himself for the blind eye he’d turned to so many wrongs.
But it was all for the greater good, he reminded himself, setting his bottle down and swallowing the bile forming in his throat. He’d made choices he wasn’t proud of in order to save thousands. A few sacrificed to save many. The problem was, he wasn’t so sure he believed that what he did made a difference anymore.
He’d lost too much. Gambled too much. There was just…too much.
The final cards would be played soon.
Glancing at Nicole Ward, he took in her innocent looks. Ah, but he’d seen devils who looked like angels. He had a way of getting people to share their secrets, of getting them to talk. A little sweet talk and a smile, and he’d either confirm her honesty or expose her nasty side.
He watched as she sipped from her second Tequila Sunrise. The “ice princess”—as she’d been nicknamed by the federal investigators who couldn’t score with her—had broken her own one-drink rule. Did this mean she was feeling good?
Ah…but he didn’t believe she was cold, this one. Not at all. Constantine had seen her ex-husband’s file. The man had a thing for kinky sex clubs and a variety of women. A habit that dated back to his married days.