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Reckless Grace
-- EXCERPT: I’m trying desperately to work my way out of the hidden compartment under the seat of this car when an alarm sounds in the compound. Okay, Gracie, don’t panic. It’s hard not to when the alarm at the sex-trafficker’s home that me and my family of spies are sneaking into is going off and I’m stuck inside this Trojan horse of a car. My heart speeds up—way up. It’s outpacing a Ducati right now. Growling under my breath, I work my sweaty numb fingers against the metal escape lever. They’re about as responsive as a fish on the deck of a ship. Breathing heavily, I push the padding. The seat finally cracks open a little, then stops dead. Fudge buckets. The car door creaks open. I freeze. “Let me help you there, Gracie.” I flinch back, bang my head. Ouch. Someone with a southern accent knows my name? The car shifts as that someone gets inside. He’s big judging by the way the car rocks. There’s a sudden creak, then the seat is yanked open. I pull my shoulders loose, then sit up, blinking at fresh air and man. Um. Oh. Sunset-brown hair topped by a USA ball cap, a big, easy grin defined by the persistent crease of overused dimples, labor- tanned skin, and the manliest nose I’ve ever seen. A roughly carved block, his nose adds challenge and strength to a too-handsome, sun-rugged portrait. My heartbeat skitters between dread, alarm, and horrifying and unexpected arousal. My face goes lava-red. USA Ballcap grins at me. Of course he does. What man wouldn’t when faced with a woman who’s obviously taken with his rugged good looks? The ginger curse. My body paints every emotion upon my skin in red hues. From pleased pink to rust-colored anger to chili-red lust. As if my reaction has given him a right, his eyes bounce along my body, taking in the red-velvet bra, the matching thong, the ruby piercing snuggled in my bellybutton, and the tattoo along my right side. Top most embarrassing moment, please take a step down. Guess, it’s not the best time to try and explain my live sex-show cover. Without taking his amber gaze from me, he gropes and finds his two-way. He lifts it to his mouth, but before he presses the button, says, “Darlin’, don’t be upset by this. I’m on your side. Trust me.” With that, he clicks the radio on and gives instructions for his men to go out and hunt Justice. He clicks off. Don’t be upset? Does this idiot realize that’s my sister? Teeth clenched, I extract my gun from the hidden compartment and point it at him. A muscle along his thumb twitches, but he keeps his Glock 19 down. He smiles. Really? Oh, buddy, let’s see how quickly I can wipe that smile off your face. “No, no,” he says, clearly reading my intent from my furious face. “Don’t shoot. I’m working with Tony. I had to send those men so Walid wouldn’t suspect what’s going down.” Tony? “My brother never mentioned you, and you just sacrificed my sister so Walid, a sex-trafficking supervillain, won’t suspect you?” He shakes his head, smile gone. Smart. “Your sister is good and those guys can’t shoot. No fooling. One of them shot himself in the foot trying to take his gun out two months ago.” “Gracie?” Justice’s strained voice comes through my headset. I click my mic with a flick of my jaw. “Go. I’ll catch up. I’m dealing with something.” He does smile at that. “I’m Agent Leif McAllister. FBI.” FBI? Nuts and bolts. The email. The email I sent via a secure site to the FBI. The one I’d sent when my son was sick and I’d been helpless to go to him and it’d all seemed Momma’s fault. The stupid email that proves I’m a traitor to the family and the Spy Makers Guild. I swallow a wave of panic. “FBI? In Mexico?” “Yeah, well, I’m sort of off-duty right now, since I’m working for your brother. No need for the agent part, actually. Just thought that would make you more comfortable. My friends call me Dusty.” “Dusty?” “Been told I could talk a stone to dust.” He reaches out with his free hand. “I’m going to help you out of here. Okay?” “You touch me and I will shoot.” His hand drops. Good. Nothing like setting the boundaries from the get-go.
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