Heat Seeker by Lora Leigh Page A

Jerric Abbas was the best cover they could have come by. Jerric had only been rumored to have been killed in that explosion; there was no proof. Several times after that explosion Micah had made forays into the criminal underground as the terrorist. The unit had decided that morning that Micah would make certain Bailey verified his identity. She’d come across Jerric several times in the field and she was the best verification he could have had.
    “There have been some questions,” he finally admitted. “He was fingerprinted, DNA’d. We managed to get our own results into each test easily enough, but we thought a verification by you would go farther.”
    She nodded at that. “The people you’re dealing with aren’t the most trustworthy. And arranging a meeting with Warbucks isn’t going to be as easy as you think. I’ve been working for more than a year to prove my discontent with the agency and my country in general. He’s only now beginning to test me.”
    Returning amid a scandal had done some damage to her social life, but not to the certainty that she would turn against the CIA if given the chance. John knew for a fact that rumors were already circulating that Bailey Serborne was nowa disenchanted agent and possibly available to the highest bidder.
    It was information that the CIA couldn’t afford to act on, though, simply because of the power that backed her. They hadn’t even placed a watch on her, which was a testament to the financial and political clout that existed within the world she had been born into.
    So how did a society princess, an heiress unlike any other he’d heard of, end up risking her life and fortune in a career that could end any day with her death?
    What sense of honor, injustice, or vengeance had led her here?
    There were so many secrets, so much of her that he was only now realizing that he didn’t know or understand. Parts of her that she hid, that she refused to share with anyone, man or woman. An intimacy she was determined to keep to herself.
    “What proof do you have that Warbucks was involved in the death of your friend or your parents?” he asked her.
    She shook her head. “I don’t have time to sit and tell you my life story.” She used a small flip of her hand to indicate the dress she was wearing. “We’re going to be fashionably late as it is. Get in your best evening suit and we’ll head out.”
    “To where?” he asked curiously. She was obviously attempting to assert herself and her dominance in this. For the moment, he was allowing it.
    “Samuel Waterstone’s get-together. He and his wife are celebrating their anniversary tonight. Forty-five years of marital bliss.”
    There was a regret disguised in the bitterness of her voice that made something in his chest ache. Made him regret choices himself. Could he and Bailey have been celebrating an anniversary this year? he wondered. If he hadn’t “died.” If Trent Daylen hadn’t managed to get on the wrong side of Warbucks in Australia?
    “The families we’re watching will be in attendance at this party?” he asked her.
    “Every one of them plus several dozen more. Add to that list a few box-office stars, a couple of very dull television personalities and even some of Aspen’s finest political figures and you have a gallery of the rich and boring.”
    She had little respect for the world she had been born within. But John had realized in Australia that Bailey never simply gave her respect or trust. Male or female, people had to work to prove themselves to her.
    As Trent Daylen, he’d done that somehow. Through the months that they had worked together, he’d found some way to earn that respect and trust. A respect and trust that John Vincent wasn’t earning quite so easily.
    “I’ll make certain I don my finest threads, then.” He quirked a smile in her direction and yet still received that strangely somber look in return.
    He wondered if she knew what that look did to him. If she knew that he