Rebecca Zanetti: Blind Faith

Dr. Madison nodded. “You intrigue me, young man. How far would you go for family? For love?”

Nate frowned. “I don’t understand the question, ma’am.”

She smiled, her eyes lighting up. “You have a deal, Cadet Nathan. Have a very merry Christmas.”

Washington, DC

Present Day

The glittering hotel ballroom teemed with reptiles and predators more dangerous than any snake or rebel fighter Nate had killed in humid jungles far from home. These masked their true natures with designer suits and red lipstick as they used the sword of power in another typical fund-raiser for some useless cause. He could put them all down within seconds.

Or maybe he just needed to follow his younger brother’s advice and stay the hell away from people for a while.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to seek solitude.

The kill chip implanted near his spine pulsed as his heart rate sped up, forcing blood quickly through his veins. Veins much too close to the abnormal killing device. So he counted evenly to control his heart, eyeing the exits from the opulent ballroom, estimating how many security guards stood at watch. At least seven had been provided by the hotel, while several more, dressed in Armani, chatted with partygoers as if they belonged.

They didn’t belong amid the rich and powerful any more than Nate did.

The difference was that Nate liked it that way.

Even so, he’d donned a Brioni tuxedo that had earned him more than one come-hither glance since he’d arrived at the fund-raiser—from women and a couple of men. A fake beard covered his jaw, while brown contacts masked his eye color. But there was no way to hide his height or the breadth of his chest, so he used them to his advantage in the sleek suit.

Even with his size, hiding in plain sight was one of his specialties.

His heart rate slowed, and he tuned in to the mundane conversations around him. With his enhanced hearing, he often had to filter most noise or he’d go insane. But tonight he listened for one woman, opening up his senses. Heart and respiratory rates had signatures—tempo, rhythm, and something too difficult to explain—and right now he hunted for one he’d once known well.

She didn’t seem to be in the large ballroom.

A group of lobbyists argued to his left, while two women in glittering sheaths spoke over champagne glasses to his right. The men argued about the next Super Bowl, and the women disagreed over international relations with China.

He bit back a grin and maneuvered between tables, once again shoving the bombarding sounds into a box.

While the ability to hear a penny hit the ground outside the raucous gathering gave him the edge he needed, now he required a clear head. This might be the most difficult job he’d ever taken, but if he or his brothers were to survive, he needed to find the one woman he’d never thought he’d seek.

Only to save his brothers from their kill chips would he even attempt to speak with her again. She’d broken his heart once, and once was enough. He had never believed in second chances—for himself or for anybody else.

But his one true job in life, the reason he had purpose, was to protect his brothers. So he’d storm hell once again to do what he needed to do.

“Excuse me.” A petite blonde in sparkling red brushed her breasts against his arm. “Do I know you?”

“No.” He fell back on training and pasted on a charming smile. “Much to my dismay.”

She twittered, and bloodred lips curved in a smile. Even in the four-inch spiked heels, she had to tip back her head to meet his gaze. She licked her lips. “I’m sure we’ve met.”

He had the oddest urge to back away from her voracious smile. What did she want? His supersenses allowed him to pay attention to the security patrolling the room while also monitoring her eye movements so he could discern the truth. As a liar, she wasn’t bad. But they didn’t know each other. “I’m afraid we haven’t met.”

“Let’s remedy that situation.” She stepped closer, and the scent of strong floral perfume gathered around them.

From her breathing and the slight dilation of her pupils, he could tell she’d probably imbibed at least three glasses of champagne. If he’d needed a companion to use as cover, she would’ve been perfect. But this was a solo mission.

A heartbeat echoed in his head, shoving away all other sounds. Thump. Thump. Thump . Familiar and once dear—he knew that beat. Slowly, he turned toward the doorway to the smaller room.

Audrey.

This was the closest he’d been to her in five years. His focus remained on the stunning woman across the room. His entire body tensed, and adrenaline flooded his system. He’d been gifted the genetic ability to control his body responses, and usually he was the best. But at the moment, he might as well be a robot on the fritz and not a trained, unfeeling assassin.

She’d thinned out in the five years they’d been apart, shedding the last vestiges of her teenage years. Nicely muscled arms showed health, while faint circles under her eyes hinted that she worked too hard.

He already knew how hard she worked, considering he’d been tailing her for a week. From a distance. Hoping to get a glimpse of her child. Their child.

Even after seven whole days, one look at her and his body short-circuited. That had to end.

Her dress covered high breasts in a way that was both alluring and modest, while the high heels accented toned legs. Those legs had felt amazing wrapped around his hips, and sometimes, when dreams intruded, he could still feel her. Smell her. Taste her.

She smiled at a man gesturing wildly to another man. Nate idly tuned in to the conversation, noting it centered around tort reform.

“Well.” The blonde in front of him spun on a heel and huffed off.

He’d forgotten all about her. If she had been a threat, she could’ve stabbed him in the gut. He wouldn’t have seen it coming.

Yet another example of why he needed to stay away from Audrey Madison.

Even so, he slid his champagne glass onto a table and strode toward the smaller ballroom. It was time to find the truth—whether Audrey liked it or not.

Somebody was watching her. Audrey Madison glanced around the opulent ballroom, her face remaining calm while her heart roared into overdrive. She’d navigated a lonely childhood, surviving with finely honed instincts. The need to fight or flee lived in her daily moments.

Now was the time to flee.

Elegant and sexy, her black cocktail dress wrapped tightly around her fit form and wouldn’t hinder her escape. Unfortunately, the three-inch Jimmy Choo heels needed to be kicked off, a necessity made nearly impossible by the two U.S. senators currently debating tort reform to her left.

She automatically smiled at a pun from her boss, Senator Nash. He’d slicked back his gray hair and trimmed his mustache, making him look more like a rancher playing dress-up than ever before.

She turned and took a sip of champagne while searching unobtrusively for the threat.

Men in tuxedos and women in stunning dresses scattered throughout the most prestigious hotel ballroom in Washington, DC. Tension rode high in the party atmosphere due to the hint of power threading through the air. The attendees of the political fund-raiser either had power and were desperate to hold on to it, or they were filching at tendrils and grappling to claim more.

Her reason for being there differed. Somewhat.

In fact, she’d give her seven-hundred-dollar shoes away in a nanosecond for the opportunity to curl up with comfy socks and Little Women . Sure, it was a classic, but it was about siblings and a nicer time. She owned several dog-eared copies.