Reckless Pleasures. Tori Carrington
ready?” Jason asked.
“For what?”
“The meeting in ten.”
“I could do this one with my eyes closed.”
“Right. You do realize that a one-year contract that will employ ten, twenty agents hangs in the balance.”
“Mmm. So I’ve been told. By you, as the case may be. Anyway, I figured you have it covered.”
“No, Meg, I think this one’s going to take a woman’s touch.”
Twenty minutes later, she saw what he meant. The two representatives from a chain of area nightclubs they were meeting with were women. And they not only appeared immune to Jason’s charms, they looked a wink away from offended.
This was the type of contract Dari could have finalized with a handshake. Instead, Megan took the reins and convinced them that Lazarus was the firm for the job.
Finally, she and Jason were alone in the conference room.
“Good job,” he said with a grin.
“You might consider working on your skills when it comes to female clients.”
“Why? I have you for that.”
She gathered her items together and started to leave the office.
“You sitting in on the next one?” Jason asked.
“Women again?”
His grin widened. “No, men. But I think you’d be equally effective…albeit in a different way.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
She heard voices and the tinny sound of a television coming from the front. She put her papers on her desk and went to investigate, unsurprised to find Jason already there.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
The three women were gathered around a flatscreen TV usually reserved for training videos. They parted like the Red Sea, allowing her a clear view of live news coverage.
“Missing girl,” Jason said, crossing his arms.
In Florida.
A missing girl who was so sweet-looking the case had garnered national attention. She picked up the remote to check. Sure enough, another national news channel was playing the same footage.
She and Jason turned toward their offices at the same time.
“Do you want to call or should I?” Jason asked, passing her open doorway where she already had a telephone in hand.
“You work your contacts, I’ll work mine.” She shouted for one of the secretaries, requesting she get the other available partners on the job. “First one to the finish wins….”
3
CHALLENGE WAS JASON Savage’s middle name and had been ever since he was an unwanted kid. Never one to wallow in the past, he rarely thought about an upbringing that would make anyone gasp…and he certainly never used it to elicit sympathy from the opposite sex. He could count on three fingers the number of people who knew what motivated him…and the first two only because they’d gone through it with him.
The third…well, he was in Afghanistan now.
Speaking of which…
Jason had no sooner pulled the rented SUV to a stop in front of the motel the Lazarus group would call home base in central Florida than Darius’s girl hopped out of the passenger’s seat, her polished combat boots hitting the ground running.
He shook his head, put the car in park and shut off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition in case it was needed fast.
Jason stared after her, thinking of his friend. In the four months since Dari’d shipped off, he’d been impressed with Megan at every turn. Oh, sure, he knew she was a Marine, and that allowed for a measure of capability, but she surpassed his expectations.
She was strong and smart and knew her way around a minefield.
He’d no sooner made his own contact regarding the missing kid than she’d popped up in his open doorway with one of her own. In his case, it was an old college buddy who’d gone into intelligence and was something or other in the FBI.
Hers was the local sheriff who appeared to be happy for any professional help.
Within four hours the team was on the ground, motel rooms and transportation arranged, and a game plan sketched out.
Jason suddenly realized that his gaze was glued to Megan’s ass under the khaki of her pants. Damn, but the girl had a body on her.
He swallowed thickly and got out of the truck.
While it wasn’t the first time he’d appreciated her curves—sometimes even in front of Dari—for some reason, his attention seemed inappropriate now.
Megan turned toward him. “Jason Savage, this is Deputy Adams. He’s going to be acting as liaison between us and the sheriff’s office.”
He shook the deputy’s hand, friendly enough but instantly dismissing the kid. Jason knew he wasn’t going to be any help at all. He’d be lucky to find his johnson in a windstorm.
“This the place?” he said unnecessarily, since he already knew it was. But it gave him an excuse to round the deputy. He was Megan’s contact; she could handle him.
And if the way the deputy hiked up his pants in disdain at his obvious dismissal was any indication, Jason had the feeling she was going to have her work cut out for her.
Locals.
But it was important for the hazards team to have an in there. The sheriff and his personnel could cause them a lot of grief if they weren’t playing on the same side.
He stepped up to the motel sidewalk and walked to the first room, pushing open the door. “Central command,” he said. “Everybody stow their stuff and meet here in ten.” He then walked over to the second room, where he planned to claim as his own quarters.
He wasn’t surprised to see Megan choose the next room down, and the rest of the five-person team they’d brought with them following suit down the line.
He left his door open and dropped his duffel on the foot of the bed before going into the small bathroom in the back and washing his face. No matter where he was, the feel of cold water always gave him the sensation of being in control. It helped shrug off the dirt and hassles from travel and regroup for the task at hand.
And right now that happened to be finding little Finley Szymanski….
WITHIN TWENTY MINUTES a large swivel whiteboard had been brought in that boasted a corkboard on the other side, along with other organizational equipment. Megan walked in front of it, tacking photos of the missing seven-year-old to the board along with physical characteristics, while Jason pinned up a map, indicating where the girl had gone missing and the location of her house.
“According to the report, she was out bike riding at around seven the last anyone saw her,” Jason said.
“Was the bike found?”
“No.”
“Who saw her?”
“A neighbor.”
“The last time she had contact with a family member?”
“Five-thirty, just after dinner. Her sister.”
“How old is the sister?”
“Ten.”
“Friends?”
Jason uncapped a marker and enlarged dots already made on the map. “These are where her friends live…”
The last one he circled edged a large thatch of