Page 21 of Pervade Montego Bay

This scenario made my pulse race. He knew we’d come for him. Betraying one of his brothers-in-arms would be added to his repertoire of fuckery. Adrenaline surged though my veins and I embraced it, soaking in the fear of possible danger and weaving it into gold. This was so damn arousing it almost made me hard.

Scanning the area, I assessed how many foreign operatives I was up against. Five, apparently, all standing out with their savage glances.

Okay, good to know.

Leaning with my elbow on the bar, I held back a quiet rage as I studied Xavier’s pretty-boy face. I saw him in a new light now. His Norwegian ancestry and that hint of a tan added to his privileged air. Those pale blue eyes held an expression that left me in the dark as to whether he had any good left in him. His dark blond hair was military grade, and yet he made the tuxedo ensemble work.

He was checking me out, too.

“You scrub up nice.” He flashed me a warm smile. “Commander.”

“Steady,” I warned.

Let’s not announce to the entire place my rank, status, and mission.

Little shit.

And, yeah, I too had donned a tuxedo. It’d taken me less than an hour after arriving in Macau to get to the safe house. My contact, Jason Zhao, had ensured my entry into the country was as smooth as it was covert. Our journey to the safe house had been uneventful. Half an hour later, I was changed into a tuxedo with my gun discreetly hidden in its holster, ready to find Xavier.

The pianist in the corner was playing Gabriel Fauré’sPavaneand it was easy to discern that the piece was being performed slower than the composer intended. Or maybe it was the effect of the tension that filled this luxurious place.

“What do you want to drink?” Xavier gestured to get the barman’s attention.

I gave him a thin smile.

He arched a brow and said, “Somehow I don’t think it would affect your aim.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who’d set a trap for one of their own,” I said. “Yet here we are.”

“Those men aren’t with me.”

The barman topped up his drink with top shelf bourbon.

I scanned the room to make sure the operatives weren’t moving in yet, or getting ready to—the ones I could see, anyway. The hairs prickled on my nape thinking of the ones I couldn’t.

“What’s the plan?” he asked.

“Classified,” I said softly.

Xavier turned to face me. “Before you do the deed at least let me talk.”

“A waste of time I don’t have. We have all the evidence we need.”

“Are you here to…?”

“By any means possible.”

He tipped back his drink and finished it in one gulp. “May I suggest a head shot?”

“I have to present you to your family when we get back. I’m thinking they might want to have a peek at your pretty boy face before they bury you six feet under.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“I like to think so. Why, Xavier?”

He gave a smirk, which was oddly sexy.

He was devilishly good-looking in a European way. Tall, fit, and his hands looked like they could play an instrument. His long fingers were sensually tapping his tumbler. Whoever had plucked him out of the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst to train him should have realized he would stand out like a fucking Abercrombie and Fitch supermodel. I imagined all eyes had been drawn to him the moment he’d stepped into the room.