Kiss or Kill. Lyn Stone

she laughed, leaned her head against his shoulder and snaked her arm around his waist. “You are such a bloodthirsty savage.”

      “You like me the way I am,” he said, reeking with confidence and manly sweat.

      “At times like this, I admit I do,” she assured him. Actually there were only two reasons a woman like her, with her upper-class education and manners, would have use for a man of Sonnegut’s talents. He had just fulfilled one—messy, uninhibited sex. The other, he so far had failed. She would give him one chance to redeem himself. If not, then Trip would take care of him along with the others.

      He got up and found the bottle of expensive Scotch they had abandoned earlier. Taking a slug directly from it and exhaling noisily, he looked down at her. “This plan of yours is too complex. Why not let me go directly to this man you want destroyed? Simple is better.”

      “You will do as I tell you.”

      “I will kill him for you. That will be the end of it.” He took another drink and handed her the bottle.

      “But I don’t want it ended. Not just yet,” she insisted. She raised the bottle to her lips, daintily sipped the Scotch, then rested the bottle on the bed beside her, cradling its neck. “I’ve only just begun to punish him. He deserves to suffer, to lose everything he has built for himself and everyone who is faithful to him. And he will suffer.”

      “I could bring him to you, let you inflict what you wish.”

      “As you brought the senator’s son here?” she said angrily, taunting him with his failure. “That was supposed to draw Lazlo out and make him available for a strike!”

      Then she relented, placating her lover. “I know, I know. That was not your fault, darling. How could we have known of the boy’s interest in the president’s daughter and that the Secret Service had him under surveillance? That was a fluke. If they had not already been in place and mucked it up, you would have been successful and the senator would have called in his old friend, Lazlo, to find his son. At least you got away and left no trail.”

      She sighed heavily and leaned back against the pillows, stretching out her arms to welcome him back into bed. “Come, let me show you how happy I am about that.”

      “Again?” he asked with a proud smirk. He lowered himself onto her body and she allowed him the momentary feeling of domination.

      Yes, she would sleep well tonight. And she would dream of Corbett Lazlo’s absolute destruction.

      “Turn around slowly,” Renee ordered. She slid her finger to the outer curve of the trigger guard, afraid to touch the hair trigger on her borrowed weapon. Mark couldn’t see her do it since his back was now to her. It wouldn’t do to kill him accidentally.

      She walked him for several blocks, ordered him down a deserted side street and backed him to the edge of an alleyway. “Turn around so I can see your face.” She needed to be sure. The streetlights were marginally dimmed by the fog and there were no lighted storefronts, but she could see.

      As she looked into his eyes, she saw his gaze fly to one side and his features freeze. What?

      Before she knew it, he had her pistol in his hand and turned on her. “Now walk calmly forward until we reach your little café,” he ordered. “Then we’ll have our conversation.”

      Furious that he had disarmed her so casually, Renee stamped on his foot. He didn’t flinch.

      “Temper, temper,” he warned, grasping her upper arm in his free hand and duck marching her along the narrow sidewalk. “Is there a café at all or did you intend to leave me lying in the gutter, a poor homeless corpse?”

      “Go left up ahead there,” she gasped, belatedly wondering how she had lucked out and not gotten shot. What a stupid thing to do, reacting to the oldest trick in the book. Look behind you. She felt like an idiot.

      When they entered the café, she realized he was no longer holding her at gunpoint. In fact, with his arm around her and her hand clutching the back of his, they must give the appearance of a couple unable to keep their hands off each other. He released her when they reached a table near the window and sat down across from her.

      “What do you recommend?” he asked politely.

      Renee took a few seconds to calm her breathing and gather her thoughts. “Coq au vin’s good here.”

      “Too late for that, I expect. What of the cheese omelette?” She nodded, noting the waiter already approaching the table. She remained silent while Mark ordered for them. She had noticed earlier that his French was perfect, not a trace of an English accent.

      When they were alone again, he touched her knee under the table. “Here’s your weapon. Safety’s on.”

      “Thank you,” she huffed, taking it from him while trying not to touch his hand. “That was so rude.”

      For the first time, he grinned at her and his face transformed. “Please, accept my apology. And I’ll accept yours while I’m at it.”

      “Dream on.”

      The boyish expression and twinkle in his eyes fascinated her as did the lock of dark hair falling across his brow. She would never have guessed he had a devil-may-care side to him. It only enhanced the attraction she felt in spite of herself. And made her madder than hell.

      “Disarming you was necessary to establish my sincerity,” he told her. “A confession under duress is difficult to credit.”

      She acknowledged the truth of that with a brief incline of her head. Now, at least, she could believe what he told her. If he told her anything at all.

      His expression grew serious and he seemed to arrive at some decision, even as she watched. “You could have killed me and you didn’t, so I suppose I must trust you.”

      “I suppose you must,” she said, holding a wide-eyed nonexpression. “So? What are you doing here?”

      The pause lasted a full two minutes. “I’m trying to locate a man called John Trip. Have you heard that name since you became involved with this lot?”

      Renee shook her head. “Nope, never heard of him. Why are you after him?”

      “Why are you here?”

      Renee sighed. “Sonnegut tried to abduct a senator’s son in Virginia. We prevented that, but he got away. My job is to find out who ordered the abduction and why, then take them down.”

      “On whose behalf?”

      “My government’s.”

      “American, not Canadian.”

      “Yes. And you?”

      When he neglected to answer, she prodded him. “Come on. Information is power here. Are you working for SIS?”

      He shook his head. “A private organization that deals with threats, mainly against dignitaries, celebrities, politicians and the like.”

      She gave a single nod. “Must be Lazlo.”

      From his fleeting expression of surprise, she knew she had scored a direct hit with the first round, but he didn’t admit it. He simply pursed his lips and narrowed those sexy eyes at her. Lord, there was that fluttery feeling in her stomach again. She tried to ignore it.

      “The Lazlo group’s not exactly low profile any longer,” she informed him. “At least not within the intel community. They’ve lost a number of operatives lately. It’s no secret someone’s out to wreck the organization. We’ve been aware of it for some time.”

      “We?”

      She simply smiled. She had the feeling he didn’t engage in much conversation, even for his line of work. He struck her as a loner. A shadow.

      The food arrived, so by tacit agreement they postponed the discussion. After they’d been served and the