The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

him over and not liking what they saw. He was used to them seeing him as either a threat or a weapon to be used against others. He usually enjoyed a certain measure of respect—and when he’d been in Antonov’s service fear. Lust—he got that too.

      Utter indifference was new to him.

      The man standing behind the desk was reptilian—cold and imposing to look at. Pale grey eyes and greying black hair … that rare mix of colour that came out of nowhere and stayed in the mind like a thorn. He was in his fifties, at a guess. Big-bodied, well-honed and powerful. Imposing.

      ‘You hand me the head of one of my directors on a plate and yet you’ve no ambition to succeed him?’

      The man’s voice matched his looks. Cold. Precise.

      ‘You don’t like the rules so you either bend them or outright break them. You’ve no wish to remake them, apparently, and you’re about to start screwing one of my best directors. Tell me, West, what would you do with you?’

      ‘Probably move me on.’

      ‘To where, exactly?’

      ‘A place where section rules don’t apply.’

      ‘Why would you even think such a place exists?’

      ‘They always exist.’

      The head of the service smiled mirthlessly. ‘If you could put together a team for this place where normal rules don’t apply, who would you choose?’

      ‘Adrian Sinclair and my sister Lena.’

      ‘Sinclair I approve of. But your sister’s performance record is unremarkable and her injuries are extensive. What would you do with her?’

      The man had no idea of Lena’s determination or her fierce loyalty to family.

      Jared didn’t bother explaining it to him—just ran through the rest of his list. ‘My brother, Damon. My sister Poppy.’

      ‘You’ve no problem with leading them into danger? Your psych report suggests otherwise.’

      ‘They’d follow me there regardless. May as well make it easier on them.’

      ‘Who else?’

      ‘That’s it.’

      ‘Not Rowan Farringdon?’

      ‘She’d limit me. Rein me in.’

      ‘If you let her, yes.’

      ‘Not really my thing.’

      ‘You were doing well until then.’

      ‘You need to find someone who cares.’ May as well come clean. ‘I want Antonov’s last mole gone and then I really don’t know what I want. I don’t like being used, lied to, and finding myself on my own when I come in from fieldwork that you authorised.’

      Not for a second did the older man look contrite.

      ‘Should you agree to head up this team you’ll report directly either to me or to the woman whose desk you passed on the way into this office.’

      ‘Your secretary?’

      ‘She’s not a secretary.’

      ‘Then what is she, exactly?’

      ‘My confidante. My partner in all things. My conscience, at times, as I am hers. Vera stays in the outer office because she says it keeps her more connected to section politics than she would be if she held equal title to me. Her choice, and I respect her for it. Vulnerability and accessibility are powerful weapons.’

      Not what he’d been expecting—and the older man knew it.

      ‘Every system can be exploited, Mr West. Patriarchy, especially.’

      Now there was an argument. He wondered what the woman he’d just kissed would think of it. Whether the lesser status would satisfy her. He didn’t think so, frankly.

      ‘How would you expect me to trust you or your associate? How would I know that the information you’d be feeding me was good?’

      ‘You’d get your team to double-check it. I would have a checking mechanism in place as well. Everyone wins.’ The older man’s cold grey eyes narrowed. ‘I expect you to put together a black ops crew and run them in a manner that will get the job done—any job done. You’re being groomed, Mr West, for this chair, no less—in about ten years’ time, all going well, it will be yours. If you’re not inclined towards this outcome you may tender your resignation from the department on your way out.’

      ‘Do I get time to think about it?’

      ‘If you need time to think about it you’re not the right man for the job.’

      Jared smiled grimly. ‘I don’t believe that.’

      ‘Tell me, Mr West, do you question everything?’

      ‘Do you?’

      This time he won from the man a smile that might have been genuine.

      ‘If you have a job for me in the here and now I’ll look at the brief,’ Jared told him. ‘I’ll make the acquaintance of your partner. I’ll approach the people I trust and see if they’re willing to go where I lead. And I will let you know, after that, whether I can be what you need.’

      Jared didn’t consider his stance out of line, considering what the older man was asking of him. And if it was—well, maybe it was time to leave.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      HE WAS WAITING for her when she stepped from the building and started down the stairs to the footpath. Rowan quickened her step and tried to ignore the acceleration of her heartbeat. His car was sleek, black, expensive, and parked in a no standing zone—and he leaned against the gleaming paintwork as if he had all the time in the world.

      He wore battered jeans, a shirt with a collar and a black leather jacket, and he’d look like every muscled guy she’d ever seen in the movies but for the sheer beauty of his face and the fierce intelligence in those midnight-blue eyes. Two of his younger siblings had genius IQs. Jared had been tested too, in his younger years, and those tests had been re-analysed again recently. There was some reason to believe that Jared had screwed those tests up deliberately.

      Brains, brawn, an ingrained disrespect for authority, a taste for revenge and utter loyalty to his family. As a director, Rowan had no idea how to handle him. As a woman she had an unhealthy desire to get under his skin and become important to him in ways they’d both regret.

      Not exactly a comfortable headspace to be in.

      He opened the car door for her as she approached, and she slid him a careless smile and got in.

      ‘Where are we going?’ she asked when he took the driver’s seat.

      ‘Some place nice.’

      ‘Some place neutral?’

      ‘My father keeps an apartment here for family use. I haven’t been in it for over two years and I probably haven’t stayed there for close to five years. Is that neutral enough for you?’

      ‘I guess we’ll see.’ She gave tacit agreement to the plan. ‘How far away is it?’

      ‘It’s in a hotel complex near here. There are several restaurants to choose from—or, if you prefer, Room Service. You’ll have immediate access to other people should you decide to leave the privacy of the apartment. There’s a concierge who can call you a taxi if you need one.’

      ‘Am I going to need one?’

      ‘I don’t know. Either way, you’ll have a swift and easy exit available.’

      ‘Thank