Kiss or Kill. Lyn Stone

up with professional. Not good, she quickly realized and went about separating her intense curiosity from her critical need to know.

      And to think, she had been ready to plead for this assignment if it hadn’t been given to her. Her dearth of experience had been against her. Her youth, too, since she had just turned twenty-five. Only the facts that she could recognize Sonnegut and that she was the one who had determined his present location had put her at the head of the line. She was not about to let an inconvenient attraction interfere with her mission or cloud her judgment.

      When they finished eating, Mark watched Renee plunk down enough Euros to cover the meal and the tip. He didn’t object. To be honest, he wasn’t certain of the proper etiquette. He expected to pay when he was out with a woman and always insisted, but this was no date. “The next meal’s on me,” he said.

      He got up in time to pull back her chair and help her into the jacket she had slung over the back of it. She gave him a long-suffering look that poked fun at his manners and reaffirmed this definitely was no date.

      She walked ahead and opened the door for him when they left the café, daring him with those whiskey-colored eyes to object. He didn’t. He walked right past her with a nod of thanks.

      They strolled side by side down the deserted street, hands in their pockets. Neither spoke until they had both made sure they weren’t followed or watched. On some level, Mark enjoyed the shared duty. On another, he felt wary of it. She must be green as new grass or she’d be a lot more careful. Now he’d have to be responsible for her and that infuriated him. Precisely why he preferred solitary assignments.

      “All right, let’s have an understanding,” she said in that take-charge voice of hers. “I have a job to do. You have a job to do. I don’t like sharing any better than you do, but it’s need to know time. If we don’t lay all our cards on the table, we could each jeopardize what the other is doing.”

      “So deal.”

      “I did,” she declared. “I admitted I’m undercover, you know why I’m here and that I’m not really working for these people.”

      “And I’ve told you that I’m after John Trip.” He sighed and cocked his head to one side, waiting for her to continue.

      “As I said, I’m following up on a political kidnapping attempt that resulted in the death of U.S. Secret Service agents. Sonnegut was there. I traced him here, discovered who he was working with and arranged to meet Deborah Martine.”

      “Why not Sonnegut directly?”

      “Because I want to know as much about the man as I can and he isn’t likely to admit things about himself that his lover might.”

      That made perfect sense to Mark. “Have you learned anything helpful?”

      “Sonnegut’s gang of four is apparently for hire, the men you met tonight. Now Deborah either hired them for this particular job, or Sonnegut hooked up with her and she’s appointed herself captain.”

      “For what it’s worth, I think she’s the one running him,” Mark told her honestly. It felt strange, collaborating. He worked alone. Lazlo usually just provided him with information or specific orders.

      He watched Renee process the opinion he had offered. “Probably, but Sonnegut steps up and takes over just often enough to make me question that. If Martine is the boss, she’s letting him think he has more power than he actually does for some reason. She is the one who offered me work.”

      “Setting explosives.”

      Renee nodded. “That was my ticket in. We met over a bomb, so to speak, and I think that incident inspired the idea of using explosives. I don’t yet know why she wants to blow that building, but I’m working on it. Now who is this Trip guy you’re after and how does he figure into this?” she asked, reverting to his mission.

      “He killed someone, years ago. A man who meant a great deal to me. And to Corbett Lazlo,” he added reluctantly, granting her more trust than he was comfortable with.

      Mark had had to relinquish his former investigation into the threats against Lazlo and the recent assassinations of a number of Lazlo’s agents. Others would continue that probe in earnest, of course. Lazlo knew finding Trip was Mark’s primary goal in life.

      “So it’s personal?” She leaned toward him a little, revealing her eagerness. That she would let him see that gave Mark a bit of reassurance.

      “A vendetta, you mean? No, it’s business. He’s already murdered at least two Lazlo operatives in addition to the man I mentioned. He might be responsible for others that we don’t yet know about if he employed other methods. But we’re certain of these three. He left proof. Trip’s a paid assassin.”

      “Which means that someone hired him to do the killing. You need that name,” she guessed correctly.

      “Obviously. How close are you to finding out what you need to know?”

      “Not close enough. Sonnegut runs the boys and Deborah runs him. But who they report to, if there is a higher authority, is anyone’s guess at this point. So far none of them has provided any hint of motive. But even given Sonnegut’s attempted kidnapping of a senator’s son, I sense this current operation is not political and certainly not ideological. It has to do with either greed or revenge.”

      Mark wondered how good her instincts were and whether he could rely on them. As a hard and fast rule, he relied on no one but himself. And Lazlo, when necessary.

      The last time he had actually known anyone well enough to trust them, other than Lazlo, was when he was thirteen. He had relied on and trusted his dad, above all. And there had been Tom and Hugh, his best friends, his trusty mates since early childhood. He still kept up with their lives because he cared about them, though for their safety, he’d had no actual contact with them since his disappearance the night of his father’s death.

      Trust and reliance he granted only to true friends, not chance acquaintances like this woman. And at present, he realized, he had no real friendships. None whatsoever.

      She went on, oblivious to his thoughts that excluded her. “Sonnegut doesn’t seem enthusiastic about any of it. It’s almost as if he’s along for the ride. But Deborah gets this crafty look. Did you notice?”

      “She can’t wait to see it happen,” he agreed, nodding. “Seems a bit psychotic if you want my opinion.” He wasn’t used to giving out his thoughts, but she was damned easy to talk to. She smiled in response.

      “I wish I had more time to find out what’s behind this, but I can’t very well plan the implosion of a building while I’m filling in the gaps. If this is to go down soon, my people will have to take whoever I’ve been able to identify and just hope somebody will sing.” She grinned at him then and bumped him playfully with her elbow. “You Brits say that, too? Or do your perps peach on each other?”

      “Sing, squeal, rat out. Yes, we have that in common.” And very little else, he reminded himself. Renee defined the term extrovert and he might as well wear a recluse sign around his neck. Colloquialisms would probably prove the least of their differences.

      He had mastered what he could of American slang, but his time in the States had been brief, he had always disliked American films and television, and he’d never had the opportunity to make any Yankee friends.

      Again he thought, no friends at all. Corbett Lazlo was the closest thing to it, but even their interaction was based on a mutual goal. And technically, Corbett was his boss.

      He admitted there were disadvantages to working completely alone, but he reminded himself sternly that he still preferred it. Even during his required military service he had remained a loner. It was difficult for him, sharing information, but necessary in this instance. Renee was right about that. He would have to make the effort.

      Mark ran a hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck for a minute. “Martine is my only lead to Trip. Depending on how quickly this job