Pure Copper
Pure Copper
Former Marine specialist, Sachi “Copper” James is a chameleon. She thrives on being someone else. Her mission? Identify the rat who sold her team bad intel.
Gabriel Danvers, ex-CIA analyst, is a master of disseminating the details. He wants to enjoy a normal life, retired from the game. His mission? Teach classes.
When Gabriel becomes the target of Copper’s investigation, he re-enters a world of danger and deception—all to claim the passion of the one woman who’s haunted him for years.
Prologue
Two years ago
Interspersingflipping through the business week magazine with the occasional glance at his phone, Gabriel Danvers maintained the appearance of a bored executive. Snapping photos of the people in the waiting room was as simple as frowning at a make-believe email and firing off a response. Smartphones made his job far too simple.
The elevator dinged in the hallway. From his position, he had an excellent vantage of the comings and goings at the main reception desk. Turning a page, he was treated to a set of long, gorgeous legs striding up the hallway. The black heels didn’t quite do the muscles on her legs justice, but they certainly made them stand out in stark relief.
Lifting his phone as though it just buzzed to tell him he had a message, he let his gaze follow the black stocking clad legs—he caught the barest peek of lace topping the stocking in the split of her skirt—to the barely-there dress hugging her every curve. The sheath left little to the imagination, and the crisscross jacket at the top gave the impression of arms wrapped around her to cup her breasts.
Drooling on the job isn’t acceptable.His libido utterly ignored the reprimand. The face above the breasts, though, was a work of art. Perfectly pale pink lips, high cheekbones, a sweet chin, and a hint of a dimple at the corner of her mouth. When his gaze locked with her hazel eyes, she winked as though telling him she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Fuck. Me.She was right. Dropping his attention to his phone, he angled it to carefully snap a photo, but she’d already turned away from him and leaned against the receptionist’s desk. The faint lift of her leg gave him another lacy glimpse of her black stockings. Two other men who waited in the same room for their appointments made no pretense of not staring at her.
When the receptionist ushered her back immediately, a security guard met her at the door to escort her up. His attention landed on her breasts, then her ass as she sashayed past him. Gabriel wanted to swear. Whoever she was, no way she’d come to talk business—unless it was of the pleasurable kind.
If ever a woman cried out sex walking, it was her. Checking his watch, he glanced at his magazine. Already ten minutes late for the appointment, Jackson Jennings kept him cooling his heels. The corporate financial officer for Transcom International sent in a tip to the CIA regarding some suspect transactions with Russian oil interests. Since he’d worked the Russia house for years, and the tip involved an old, open case file of his, they’d sent Gabriel to question the man.
An hour later, neither Jennings nor the sexpot had made an appearance. Tossing the magazine aside, Gabriel headed for the receptionist and tapped her desk. Everyone else who’d been in the waiting room to see someone within Transcom had gone back. Everyone except Gabriel.
“Mr. Danvers, I’m sorry. Mr. Jennings isn’t picking up. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll go check on him for you?”
He nodded, choosing to remain at her desk where he faced the door heading into the corporate offices. Maybe Miss Fuck Me Sideways in the Stockings would reappear. Odd, the body and her movement stood out, but not her gorgeous face. He needed to get a photo and her number. Though he was alone, he made no overt attempt to get into the receptionist’s computer. Instead, he used an app on his phone to start a clone of her hard drive then tapped the icon to upload via satellite—designed for short packet bursts, the application would keep sending every time it had a connection until all the data had been sent. He could rip through the info later.
A woman’s blood-curdling shriek echoed from the hallway. Reacting, Gabriel jerked the door open and raced down the corridor before completing the thought. Other suits stuck their heads out of their doors while two security guards raced in from an adjoining hall. The woman’s screams escalated in volume and pitch. He and the guards arrived at the office door of one Jackson Jennings at the same time.
The receptionist held her hand over her mouth and had gone violently pale. Jennings was in his office all right—seated in his chair, arms relaxed, with his head turned at an unnatural angle.
The one lead he’d finally found was dead.
Six months later…
Gabriel finishedhis inspection and typed the last three sentences into his report. His final assignment for the company—really—ended with a full assessment of their intelligence desk located in the consulate desk in Nigeria. Favors to the company didn’t come cheap, and he had a class to teach back in the states. Agent Gabriel Danvers would be one hundred percent retired, and Professor Danvers would take his place.
Classes four days a week, with football on Sundays in front of a big screen television and a six-pack of cold beer. He couldn’t wait to be bored. The intelligence desk seemed to be in decent shape, though he had a few recommendations to sharpen their observation capability. The archaic monitoring system in place only offered rotating views of the various entrances and front hall of the consulate. Based on the timing, he could be in and out of the building and still not be caught on tape.
Not a good set up.
Pushing away from the desk, he stood. He grabbed his coffee cup as the camera panned the entrance lobby of the consulate, framing two people entering. A redhead strolled in, dressed in work boots, jeans, a tank top, and an open khaki shirt. She looked like something straight out of an advertisement for a safari magazine. It wasn’t the outfit that captured his attention, but something else… Before he could put his finger on what, however, the monitor switched to another view.
Setting the coffee cup down, he keyed in his access code and requested the view switch back to the lobby. He caught the tail end of her. No way it wasn’t the same sashaying hips. The outfit was different. Hell, the hair was different, but he recognized the walk. She wasn’t alone this time. A mountain of a man strode at her side, tall, imposing, and exuding an aura of menace over the grainy standard digital feeds.
He’s bad news.
Fingers flying over the keys, Gabriel tried to switch the angle of the cameras, then settled for activating the camera in front of them. The twist time took way too long and afforded him only a brief profile.
She looked completely different, but he’d bet money it was Sex on a Stick Walking from Miami.What the hell is she doing in Nigeria? And what is she doing with that guy?
Leaving the desk, he headed downstairs. He wanted to waylay the pair for a couple of questions. By the time he reached the consul hall, however, they were gone and the Marines on duty had the door blockaded.