Only the highest, most qualified candidates were chosen for this organization, given a kind of worldwide immunity for their actions.
Sort of the ultimate “don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Only the best were chosen to serve, and their internal justice system was not something any of the agents wanted to mess around with.
The rules were simple…no one crossed IAD.
Ever.
IAD got the job done, no matter how messy. They did it quick, efficiently, with whatever means necessary, and the world was a more peaceful place because of them. For the highly skilled select members of IAD, it was a dream come true since most of the agents had been disillusioned with the rules, regulations, and red tape of the regular intelligence branches.
For the past five years, Jason MacBain had been the head of the Chicago IAD branch with partner Brett Michaels, an American-born ex-military man who was one of the few people in the world that Jason trusted with his life. The IAD branch was fronted by the Chicago location of Mac Securities. While Jason was the public face of the security company, Brett was able to devote one hundred percent of his time to running IAD. Together, both sides of the business ran smoothly.
Now, Jason found himself standing at the entrance of the hotel ballroom wishing he were anywhere else.
He had forced himself to attend tonight since he donated a sculpture that had belonged to his family. The sculpture held no meaning to him, never had. It had to his parents though, and that was why he was there to represent them at the benefit auction.
Christ, I need a fucking drink. Someone needs to buy that chunk of metal so I can get the hell out of here and go home.
Striding in confidently, he surveyed the room made up of women and pompous pricks ready to flaunt their cash for some overpriced useless pieces of shit.
What a bleeding waste of time and money.
People at these types of functions were always the same. Men wanted to meet and greet, talking to him because of the power he so adeptly wielded in the business world, and women fawned over his looks and vast amounts of money. He didn’t even bother asking someone to join him this evening since it would be more hassle then pleasure escorting her around. Well, it would have been nice to sink into a woman’s willing body at the end of the evening, but it wasn’t worth the effort of playing nice during the party.
It had been awhile since any particular woman had actually stirred his interest anyway, and for that matter, they never held it for very long. Most women found him cold and calculating.
He was.
He didn’t deny it, nor could he help it. He enjoyed women, when he wanted them. He enjoyed them in bed, but he never stuck around after.
Emotional entanglements did not appeal to him.
Women, he thought, could forgive pretty much anything for a trinket or two before he moved on to the next attractive lovely to catch his eye.
The event was in full swing by this time since he had arrived late, hoping that bidding would be over soon. Viewing a waiter close by, he started forward to grab a drink when a woman slammed into him.
Instinct had him reaching out to grab her. He looked down into her smiling amber eyes, and the blood drained out of his brain straight down to his dick.
Shit, where was his legendary control now?
He was a man, not a love-struck teenager getting a hard-on at a woman’s touch.
This woman was appealing, not his usual type, but as she stroked her hand down his arm, all he could think of was having those hand wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down on him.
Bloody hell, she was a little thing. Probably someone’s trophy wife.
No, no ring.
Then a girlfriend brought here to impress and look pretty.
And pretty she was.
He waited for the expected tearful apology as he wasn’t in the mood to be charming any little debutantes tonight. Wait, how old was she? Her feisty response surprised him. Jason watched, fascinated as the temper fired in her eyes turning them to liquid gold.
Arrogant ass, Jason thought with an inner chuckle.
Perhaps this evening would not be a complete waste.
Chapter Three
Bella pushed open the door to the balcony. Jerking open her purse she took out a cigarette then the lighter and lit it, inhaling deep.
“What a jerk,” she groused to herself.
There were a few people scattered in groups around outside, but she made no move to join any of them.
She desperately needed a moment alone.
Bella was a mixture of emotions, still fuming from the anger that the stranger evoked but shaken inside from the confrontation. She strode to the end of the balcony away from the murmuring conversations and the lights pouring through the glass doors, around the plotted trees scattered here and there, to rest her arms against the railing. The sounds of the city were faint as she looked down to the streets far below. It was a crisp fall evening, with a cool light breeze that only hinted of colder weather to come.