Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

T he elegant restaurant was at capacity, though no one would know it. The tables were positioned to give each diner the idea that they were in a world of their own. It was an optical illusion that worked. Pristine white tablecloths, dark hardwood floors, rugged brick walls, and brilliantly shimmering chandeliers gave off an ambience that screamed wealth, privilege, and exclusivity.

LuLu’s was one of the trendiest and most popular Italian restaurants in the city. With a waiting list of up to a year to get a reservation, it was no wonder the prices weren’t even listed on the menu. The saying if you have to ask how much something is, then you can’t afford it fit this place to a T.

Her game face on, Jazz sat across from Xavier and played the role of a young ingénue with a penchant for wealthy, good-looking guys. Their identities weren’t especially important to this job. No one needed to know their names. The deed she was here to perform was the key to the mission.

Anyone looking at her right now would never be able to tell what was going on inside her head. During training years ago, she’d had an acting coach tell her she had a natural talent, and if she wanted, she could likely make a career in show business. That had never entered her mind. This was her dream job, and the man across from her was her dream for everything else.

And that was why she was glad she had major acting skills, because behind the calm, cool facade of a coolly sophisticated woman was a giddy, lovesick woman who was silently screaming, Xavier kissed me!

Yep, if she were alone right now, she’d be dancing a little jig and shouting, “Hallelujah,” to the heavens above. Finally, after all this time, he had kissed her!

Xavier Quinn had fascinated her from the moment she’d met him. Yes, he was gorgeous, with thick, inky black hair that just touched his collar and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard that she had discovered during their kiss were actually soft and felt wonderful against her skin. And his eyes. Xavier had the most mesmerizingly beautiful silver-gray eyes. She could spend hours gazing into their depths.

And tonight, for the first time, she had seen something in those eyes that she had been longing to see. There had been heat, attraction…desire. She had almost given up that he would ever see her as anything other than his friend and partner.

When they’d first met, she had been as green as a new blade of grass. She’d been fully trained, but she’d only had a few soft ops under her belt, so he, along with all the other OZ operatives, had been protective of her as if she were a fragile flower. It hadn’t helped that she was small-boned, petite, and looked about ten years younger than her actual age. For over a year, she had busted her butt to show them that she was just as tough and lethal as they were. She had earned their respect and admiration, which had given her even more confidence.

Then, a couple years ago, she had been injured during an op. She had almost died. After a brutally long recovery, she was once again fully operational. Everyone else had accepted her complete return. Everyone except Xavier. He still treated her as if she would break if he did or said the wrong thing.

That was another reason tonight’s revelation had been so significant. Not only was Xavier admitting his attraction, he wasn’t treating her as if she would bruise if he touched her.

Things were definitely looking up!

Admittedly, relationships were not her forte. Without spending thousands of dollars on therapy, she knew there was something broken inside her. She’d lost her entire family, and knowing how easy it was to lose someone usually stopped her from allowing people into her life.

She cut her eyes over to Xavier and fought a grin, noting that he was fully embracing the sleazy side of his cover. A smarmy smirk played around his mouth, and his eyes glinted with what one could describe only as lasciviousness. She knew he hated this particular cover, but she had to admit he played it to perfection.

The mission sounded easier than it likely would be. In about ten minutes or so, a man and his entourage would be entering the restaurant. The man, Franco Bass, was her target. Her job was to get close enough to him to plant a microscopic tracker on his skin. The tiny flesh-colored device would be absorbed into his skin, unnoticed by anyone. It would give them the ability to know Bass’s location for up to a week. Where he went and with whom he did business were vitally important to their investigation. If they were successful, they would be closer to an elite member of the Wren Project than they’d ever been.

But how to get to the man?

What they knew about the real Franco Bass could fill a thimble. Plenty of media had covered the man, but most of what was reported was fiction. Making someone look better or worse than they were was a popular ploy these days. Though they didn’t know much about him, they knew the type of women he liked. Joy Monroe, aka Jazz McAlister, was just his type. Which should, hopefully, make it easier for her to get close to him at some point during the night.

“Your food good, baby?” Xavier asked in his best oil-slick voice.

Jazz glanced down at the mushroom risotto that she had apparently eaten half of without registering the taste. Even though Xavier had sounded as slippery as a greased eel, Jazz couldn’t control the shiver up her spine when he’d called her baby . Yes, he was playing a part, but still…

Since their OZ teammates were monitoring them, she forced herself to stay focused on the job. “Everything’s good…baby.” She was gratified to see his pupils dilate slightly at the suggestive way she’d spoken. At least she knew she wasn’t the only one still feeling the heat from their kiss.

She lowered her voice and said, “Just trying to figure out our best strategy.”

Keeping his voice to a murmur, Xavier said, “Yeah. We’ll know more once he arrives.”

They’d discussed several options, but not knowing where the man would be seated, how many people would be with him, and how close a stranger could get to him, no matter how attractive, had inhibited a solid plan. The last few weeks, Bass had been one of the most high-profile people in the media and, by all accounts, was very approachable. Tonight, they would see just how true that was.

“He’s late,” Xavier growled under his breath.

Jazz snorted. “With all the press he’s been getting lately, the guy probably has an elephant-sized ego. He likely sets his own time schedule and expects the rest of the world to adhere to it. Still can’t believe he walks around as if he’s an ordinary person.”

“He likely thinks he’s untouchable, but that’s about to end.”

Jazz agreed with his assessment. Wouldn’t be today, or even next week, but Bass and all the evil people associated with the Wren organization would be exposed and destroyed. Option Zero would see to that.

Hawke’s gravelly voice sounded in her earbud. “Just got word. Bass is eight minutes out.”

“Roger that,” Xavier replied. “We’ll be ready.”

She took a bite of her risotto, took a sip of wine, and glanced around at the other patrons. Would they be surprised when Bass arrived? His itinerary wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but somehow various members of the press and paparazzi always seemed able to find him.

“Jazz,” Xavier said quietly.

She jerked her attention back to her partner, surprised that not only had he used her name, but an odd, surprisingly serious expression had also come over his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Instead of answering, he shocked her further by clicking off his earbud. He then nodded toward her, indicating she should do the same. Cutting off communication in the middle of an op went against protocol. But she trusted her partner, so Jazz followed his lead and switched off her earbud. She leaned forward and whispered, “What’s going on?”

This was either the worst idea of his life, or the best. The next few minutes would tell. Going off-comms during an op was a major breach of operational protocol, and he was sure to get an earful from Ash when this was over. He’d take the reprimand and deserve it. But in this limited space and time, he had a captive audience. He intended to make the most of it.

Keeping his voice low, he said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Jazz said. “You can ask me anything.”

Yeah, he knew he could, but getting a straight answer from her on this particular topic wasn’t always a surety.

“Why don’t you want OZ involved in finding your brother?”

He watched her reaction carefully, waiting for the explosion. As was Jazz’s way, it didn’t take long.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped. “OZ has been looking for Brody since the moment I came on board. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that Serena’s run a few searches, and we’ve run down some leads. That’s about the same thing a half-assed PI would do. You know we have the resources to drill deeper than an oil rig. Yet you’ve never asked Ash for more. Why is that?”

Beautiful brown eyes widened with shock, and then the fire flared. He knew she wouldn’t go full-on explosion inside the restaurant, which was one of the reasons he’d chosen this moment. Calling attention to them would cause all sorts of issues they wanted to avoid. However, Jazz was crafty. Her eyes and face were so expressive, she could communicate fury and displeasure without saying a word. Still, she would give him an earful.

“How dare you say that?” Her whisper-soft voice trembled with anger. “You know that I would do anything to find my brother.”

“Do I? Convince me. Let’s get the whole team involved instead of piecemealing it out.” He leaned forward. “It’s way past time to either find him or let him go.”

A sheen of moisture appeared in her eyes, and Xavier felt like he’d been kicked in the gut with a steel boot. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt this beautiful woman. From the day he’d met her, she had fascinated him, enthralled him, and challenged him. She was the most maddening, intriguing, and complicated creature he’d ever known. He’d rather cut off his hand than cause her pain. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t tell her the truth.

“You picked a hell of a time to confront me about this.”

“I call it perfect timing. If we weren’t stuck here, you would’ve snapped at me and walked out by now.”

“No, I would’ve punched you in the face.”

He struggled to keep from smiling because he knew she was right. She would’ve tried to slug him, and he might’ve let her. He knew she wanted to find her brother, but there was something keeping her from going full tilt to find him, and he wanted to know why.

“Yeah. So answer my question.”

“I’ve said as much as I’m going to say.”

“Want to know what I think?”

“Would saying no keep you from giving your opinion?”

Ignoring her sarcasm, he continued, “You’re too proud to ask for help.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

Jazz McAlister was one of the most independent people he’d ever met. She’d basically been on her own for more than half her life. Asking for anything—even for something she wanted as badly as finding her brother—went against that concrete code she had of never needing anyone.

“Oh yeah? Well, tell me this, then. Who helped you move from your old apartment to your new one?”

“A moving company. You’ve heard of those. Right?” she asked dryly.

She had come to headquarters one morning with her arm in a sling. Turned out she’d fallen down the stairs while singlehandedly carrying an oversized chair that was twice as big as she was. Jazz was in excellent shape, and she had muscles many people would envy, but she was in no way strong enough to lift and move heavy furniture by herself.

Ignoring her sarcasm, he continued to make his point. “When you were injured—almost died, mind you—you hired an Uber to bring you home from the hospital.”

“That again?” She blew out a controlled, explosive breath. “I’ve told you numerous times that I didn’t want to pull any of you away from an op.”

“Is it because I held back the intel from you?”

“No. I knew why you did that.”

Not long after she’d been injured, he’d learned some disturbing news about her brother. He and Ash had made the decision to hold off on telling her until she had recovered. When he’d finally told her that Brody hadn’t left Indianapolis until years after she’d already fled, she had surprised him with her lack of emotion. It was almost as if she’d already known.

“When I told you, you didn’t seem that surprised. Why?”

“Seriously? We’re going to continue this conversation during the middle of one of our most important operations?”

“Answer the question and I’ll turn the comms back on.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “No, I wasn’t surprised that Brody hadn’t left Indianapolis. It made no sense for him to go somewhere else.”

“But it made sense for him to abandon you?”

“I never said that. Something happened to him. I don’t know what, and I’ll find out when I…we…find him. He had a good reason. I know he did.”

Xavier didn’t know if she was trying to convince him or herself. Either way, his opinion of Brody McAlister was about as low as it could go. The bastard had abandoned his fourteen-year-old sister, leaving her brokenhearted and alone. It was amazing she had survived.

He glanced at his watch. He was running out of time. Going for broke, he leaned forward and growled, “Then let’s put the full force of OZ behind finding him. Trust us, Jazz. Trust me.”

He locked his eyes with hers, doing his best to communicate everything he wouldn’t allow himself to say. Whether she saw those things was up to her. Either way, Xavier was done with hiding.

Myriad emotions crossed her face, and it took every bit of his fortitude not to reach out for her. Jazz had been through so much hurt and abandonment in her life.

Just when he was certain she wouldn’t respond and he’d have to turn the comms back on without any resolution, she blew out another explosive breath and said, “All right. Fine. As soon as we’re back home, I’ll meet with Ash and ask him to get everyone on board.”

Feeling like he’d just won a major battle, Xavier gave her a nod of approval and clicked his earbud back to active. Jazz followed suit.

“Nice of you to rejoin us, you two,” Ash said. The lethal quietness in his tone told Xavier he might get his ass kicked instead of an earful from his boss, but that was okay. He had accomplished what he’d set out to do.

“How long now?” Jazz asked.

“Thirty seconds,” Serena answered. “His limo is stopping in front of the restaurant.”

“Okay, everyone,” Ash said. “Eyes open. Jazz, you know what to do.”

Both back in operational mode, they observed the last-minute prep of the restaurant staff. Everyone from the coat check girl to the ma?tre d’ were standing straighter, their expressions ranging from excitement to extreme nervousness. A few months ago, only a handful of people had ever heard of Franco Bass, and now his celebrity status was on par with Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg.

The entourage entered the restaurant as if they were arriving royalty. A hush spread through the restaurant, and it seemed everyone held their breath as the man himself walked in.

Xavier had to give the man props. At a distance, Bass was an impressive-looking man. He had an old-Hollywood magnetism, steel-gray hair, lightly tanned skin, and broad shoulders. Yeah, he looked successful and powerful. But seeing the man up close revealed the snake behind the mask. Sometimes, evil couldn’t be hidden, no matter how thick the facade.

Every eye in the restaurant followed Bass to a balcony where a large, cloth-covered table had been set for him and his guests. He would be stupidly front and center so everyone could see him.

The ma?tre d’ pulled out a chair for him, and Bass plopped himself into the seat with all the pompousness of royalty. The rest of his party then seated themselves. A smug smile played around the guy’s mouth, and Xavier almost burst out laughing. The obnoxious prig was so full of himself, he had no idea how he was being used.

If the people behind the Wren Project had one thing going for them, it was their ability to find the right puppets. There seemed to be an unlimited number of schmucks willing to sell their souls for wealth and fame. Little did they know—or hell, maybe they just didn’t care—it was a temporary gig. Once they’d served their purpose, the joyride ended. Often abruptly and, more often than not, in death.

“He’s thoroughly enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame,” Jazz murmured. “Wonder how long it will last?”

Jazz’s words were still hanging in the air when her question was answered. A familiar whistling noise sounded, and then a tiny, neat hole appeared in the middle of Bass’s forehead. The man slumped forward.

A stark, breathless silence enveloped the entire restaurant. It was like everyone held in a collective gasp. A second later, chaos erupted. One of the women at Bass’s table shrieked, another followed, and havoc ensued. People screamed, overturning tables as they ran en masse toward the exit.

The instant the bullet hit, Jazz and Xavier were on their feet. She grabbed her gun from her purse while Xavier took his from his ankle holster. Jazz’s gaze swept the room, and out of the corner of her eye, she noted the swinging door that led to the kitchen. She glimpsed a large, booted foot before the door swung shut.

“Xavier,” Jazz said.

Seeing what she’d seen at the same time, Xavier said, “Let’s go.”

They fought through the crowd, some of whom were on their phones, recording the melee. She reached the door and looked back for her partner. Xavier was pushing people away from a woman who’d been trampled. He glanced up at Jazz and said, “Go!”

Jazz eased the door open and peered inside. Three of the kitchen staff were huddled in a corner. When they saw her, all three pointed to another door. One whispered, “He went through there.”

Thanking them with a nod, she ran toward the door that had an Exit sign above it. The guy was likely headed to the alley behind the restaurant.

Weapon in hand, she eased the door open. The alleyway was surprisingly well lit, giving her a good view of the area. To the right, two dumpsters took up a large part of the area. Jazz heard a noise to her left. A man dressed in black, with a skullcap covering his head, was running down the alley toward a black SUV. Though he was covered from head to toe, she quickly assessed him at about six five, two forty, and muscular.

Jazz took off in pursuit.

The man reached the SUV and swung the door open. Before jumping into the vehicle, he glanced back.

Jazz froze, and all the breath left her body. She knew those unusual green eyes. She saw them in her dreams and her nightmares.

The man before her—the assassin who’d killed Franco Bass—was Brody.