Page 2 of Dangerous Obsession

COLE

A health spa was not exactly Cole’s idea of a great vacation, even if he was on an island in Greece.

Then again, this wasn’t supposed to be a vacation. It was work. Vacations didn’t involve infiltrating the isolated villa of a reclusive billionaire and stealing software code.

Like he’d said. This was work.

He crossed his arms and stared along the rocky coastline, scoping out the best path to his objective. He had a trek ahead of him if he was going to cross the island. It wasn’t huge, but the terrain wasn’t always easy.

He was momentarily distracted by a woman’s voice behind him. “Mr. Ward, your sugar wrap is scheduled for one o’clock.”

He turned and put on his most charming grin. People remembered you if you were charming, but they didn’t suspect you, which was to his advantage. Especially since Mr. Ward was a fake name and a fake persona. Besides, if you had a hard stare like Cole did, a smile helped soften the intensity.

The grin worked. The young Greek woman with the beautiful dark eyes smiled back at him.

“Thank you, Aniki,” he said smoothly. Remembering names was a skill he’d mastered long ago. People liked you more if you remembered their names. Still…what the hell was a sugar wrap? “I think I’ll walk today. It’s beautiful out. I could use the chance to stretch my legs, get some exercise.”

“Yes, Mr. Ward,” Aniki said, her smile turning a bit warmer than was strictly professional. If he hadn’t been working, he definitely would’ve stayed to experience a little more of that smile. “But don’t be late.”

He gave her a salute, knowing he didn’t intend to go to any sugar-wrap-seaweed-face-cucumber-eye-toxin-removal thing. First, he had to finish the mission. Then he could indulge himself. Indulge somewhere far from Greece where they wouldn’t be searching for him.

He left the pretty Aniki behind. It felt good to leave the sprawling spa complex.

He couldn’t get a read on exactly what kind of clientele this place catered to, and that was strange.

It seemed exclusive, which should’ve included rich people.

Yeah, wealthy people were here, along with the standard New Age hippie types.

But most of the guests were here to recuperate after a long illness.

And they didn’t necessarily strike Cole as being rich.

Of course, that was good. Made it easier to fit in, since Cole certainly wasn’t rich either.

But after this job, that was going to change.

One big score would let him cruise into the sunset.

He wouldn’t be blowing his money at an exclusive health spa on some private Greek island.

No, he’d be blowing it in some exclusive casino in Venice.

The breeze cooled Cole’s face and ruffled his nondescript brown hair.

The nondescript brown hair belonged to a wig and was part of the ploy.

The bright gold of his natural hair color was the bane of his existence.

He was a mercenary. His success, even his life, depended on his ability to blend into any crowd.

Blending was difficult when people turned to stare at his bright, golden curls.

It was far better to wear a good wig when he was on a job.

A common color let him play his role and fade into the background.

Right now, he was playing the role of Cole Ward, a patient recovering from stage two cancer. Same first name as his real one—that made answering easier—but a different last name. The wig fit nicely into his cover story too.

Cole headed for the marked hiking trail that made a circuit around the Athens side of the island. This was the populated side of the isle, with the spa and the village.

He’d done a little recon and a lot of research.

The health spa was owned by a mysterious benefactor who hired some of the best professionals in the business, both management and whole healthcare workers.

This benefactor was Cole’s target…on the other side of the six hundred and forty-odd acres of island space.

Cole’s thick leather hiking sandals made almost no noise on the sandy dirt covering the path.

The terrain was like everything else in Greece.

Rocks and sand interspersed with squat little trees, shrubs, and bushes.

Yew trees. Cypress trees. Grazing goats and olive groves as far as the eye could see.

There were cliffs and mountains of a sort.

Not exactly what a Colorado boy would’ve called mountains, but slopes of craggy rocks studded with trees twisted by a wind that never seemed to stop blowing.

As he climbed farther away from the Greek-style spa with its brilliant white terraces, beaches, and manmade grottoes, Cole had to shade his eyes from the morning sun in the intense blue sky.

If he were another sort of man, he would find this hike peaceful.

At least he wasn’t hauling around seventy-plus pounds of gear like he’d done back in Special Forces.

Those were some of the most intense years of his life.

He missed them too.

Cole pushed those thoughts away. He didn’t have either the time or the booze to go reminiscing. He was more concerned with leaving the trail behind in order to reach the rocky outcrop he spotted ahead. It might offer him a tactical view of the other side of the island.

The climb was rough, especially without boots. At times, he needed to leap from rock to rock. Eventually, he had to scale the steepest part of the outcropping freehand.

It was a triumph to finish scaling it and get the tactical view he wanted. He crouched and let the wind cool his flushed face and evaporate his sweat.

He was annoyed that he’d actually felt that climb in his muscles. Returning from the treacherous atmosphere of Afghanistan could easily coax a man into becoming complacent. He needed to get back to pushing himself to the limit.

But below him was the luxury home Maxim Hawthorne had commissioned and had built here.

The villa had modern architecture stylings, lots of big windows, and was a white so brilliant it was stunning.

With all those windows, it certainly wasn’t a fortress.

Still, he needed inside, and he was a man with a wig and a plan.

The place was considerably smaller than the sprawling health spa.

Maxim Hawthorne made up for it by owning a yacht and a helicopter and who knew what other kinds of luxury toys.

The guy was no saint either, but then again, what billionaire was?

Maxim Hawthorne made his fortune on AI, but Cole was here for a very specific artificial intelligence program.

One worth billions. One that would change the world.

An integrated, learning facial recognition software that would link in with supercomputer-connected nodes, hundreds of thousands of databases—police, government, and private sector—and provide near-instant identification and advanced profiling.

Scary shit, but Cole was long past judging. He had a client paying top dollar for the program.

Now all Cole had to do was find the best way down to the private villa, get inside, locate the program, steal the program, and get back out again without getting caught.

Yeah. Easy-fucking-peasy. But afterward, he could meet his contact on the mainland for the exchange and get the rest of his money. He had a week to get this done.

Shouldn’t be a problem.

He wouldn’t hurt anyone, so this had to be done exactly right. He didn’t do assassinations, and he certainly didn’t harm innocent people. No money was worth that. But he had a good bit of intelligence on this target—something that had convinced him this could be done without violence.

According to his contact, backed up by Cole’s intel, all you had to do was get the guy to offer you hospitality. Evidently, that was the rich dude’s thing . Taking care of guests like some kind of medieval lord or something.

It seemed like a fatal flaw as Cole saw it. One that could be easily exploited.

Cole withdrew a small set of binoculars from the daypack he wore around his waist. He scanned the house, looking for security cameras and other threats.

And that was when he spotted the woman. She occupied what looked like a small temple because it was too fancy to be called a patio or whatever. There were columns all around a flat space in the middle, all made of stone, all painted white.

But she wasn’t praying, unless she was worshiping the god of war. She was wailing on an invisible opponent with a fighting staff and doing a damn good job of it too. He was impressed by her moves.

The woman was tall, lithe, and wearing nothing but a pair of tight, boy-cut shorts and a sports bra.

Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that swung as she moved.

She was beautiful, the way a hawk was beautiful.

Deadly. Precise. Skilled. The sort of creature who could lure you in with a smile and then rip your face off with her claws.

She was whirling that staff so fast it was a blur. She struck with it, mixing it up with kicks, parries, and spinning dodges. Her pretty face was a study in concentration.

Cole understood that concentration. He was a student of it himself. And watching her gave Cole a sudden idea.

Strategic thinking meant being able to adapt a plan to the realities of the battlefield at a moment’s notice. As he watched her power and grace, he adapted his plan to a new one that would accomplish his goals perfectly.

And if he played it right, he’d be able to get close to this intriguing beauty too.

Either that or she’d beat his ass with that staff and push him over a cliff.

He grinned. Time to roll the dice and see if his gambit won or lost.

* * *

JADE

She was loving this. She’d fallen into her rhythm, moving effortlessly from martial arts form to form.