Page 7 of Renegade (The Santini Assassins #2)

Unless he left the Agency. No, no way. He’d never do that. Damn that man a million fucking times.

“La conosci?” Tank asked Grey.

“Sì,” Grey replied.

“Da dove?” Tank asked.

“Quando mi oscuro, lei è quella giusta,” Grey said.

“What are they saying?” Sydney whispered.

“No idea,” Caroline murmured back.

“Are they speaking Spanish?”

“Italian,” Caroline whispered.

The sisters exchanged glances.

Grey walked over to the table, shot her a smile. Like fireworks on the fourth of July, a series of mini explosions erupted in her chest.

Rather than run to him, throw her arms around him, and mash her body flush against his, she swallowed down the mouthful of food, arched an eyebrow, and said, “How’s it going?”

“It’s goin’,” he replied.

“What language were you speaking?”

“English. ”

She loved his smart mouth and bit back a smile. “The other one.”

“Italian,” he replied.

“Do you two know each other?” Sydney blurted.

“Why would you ask that?” Caroline protested.

“He called you Austin,” her sister replied.

She shrugged a shoulder, her gaze still drilling into his.

As Tank topped of her sparkling water, he said, “I’ve gotta run out for a few, so Greystone’s gonna take care of you.”

Seconds after Tank left, one of Caroline’s friends bee-lined toward Grey.

“What is up with you?” Sydney whispered. “Do you know him or not?”

Caroline lowered her head and whispered, “He’s the one.”

Sydney jerked her head toward Caroline. “Come again.”

“You heard me.”

Caroline never discussed her job with anyone… except her sister. They’d been close their entire lives, they’d always been each other’s best confidants, and they were currently roommates, so Sydney knew exactly who Grey Stone was.

“Well, I didn’t imagine him being that good looking,” Sydney whispered.

“Sick, isn’t it?”

“He’s not too good looking for you though.”

Caroline flicked her long hair back, steeled her spine, and shot her sister a smarmy smile. “No, he’s not.”

“That’s the ‘tude,” Sydney said. “Go talk to him.”

Caroline snuck a peek. Grey was surrounded by all the women, save for her, Sydney, and her friend Jennifer Leigh.

“He ghosted on me,” Caroline whispered. “At least now I know he wasn’t shot down in some shit hole in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Grey broke from the group of admirers, stood across the table from her, and shot her a smile. “Happy birthday. ”

Despite the desire pounding through her, reality had kicked in. Now, her anger was front and center. Instead of saying something that would get them kicked out, she said nothing.

“How’s your dinner?”

She glared at him. How dare he make small talk with her.

“Everything is great,” Sydney replied. “Thanks for checking on us.”

Grey hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “I’ll be back, Austin.” He left the room, taking her butterflies, her pounding heart, and her crushed ego with him.

But not her libido. She still had that… and it was raging.

“He’s not interested,” Caroline whispered.

“Yes, he is,” Sydney said.

Seconds later, he returned. “Can I borrow the birthday girl?”

“Go.” Sydney pinched her arm.

“Ouch.” Caroline stood. “Don’t let them take my plate. I’m not finished.”

She walked right up to him, tilted her face toward his and said, “Looks like you’re not dead.”

His smile slayed her. She melted into a puddle on the floor, her cheeks warmed, her chest heated. For a woman who lived for danger, stayed calm in the midst of chaos, and managed her emotions like a boss, she was unable to regulate her internal thermostat.

She was seconds from self-combusting.

He put his arm around her, covering her shoulder with his large hand. “My office.”

He’d never touched her before, and the jolt of energy raced through her at Mach speed while tingles flitted through her. As he guided her down the hall, she tried to get a hold of herself, but she was on fire for someone she’d been fantasizing about for a long, long time.

He stood in front of the scanner, the light turned green, he opened the door and waited for her to enter. Once inside, he shut the door, gestured to the sofa.

Instead of getting comfortable, she stood, crossed her arms, and glared at him.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

She’d missed the rasp in his voice. Even when he was running for his life, she could listen to him all day long.

“Seriously, where the hell have you been? I saved your ass— again —you write me a great rec, then you vanish? What the hell, Grey!”

He paused for a brief second before he said, “I heard you kicked ass on assignment.”

“You checked on me?”

He nodded, his penetrating gaze eating her alive. Her mouth went dry and she rolled her tongue over her lower lip. He broke eye contact, watching her moisten her lips before his gaze jumped back to her eyes, then to her hair, then back to her eyes.

She bit back a moan, kept her feet firmly on the ground. He was too close, he was too handsome, and she was too damn happy to see him.

“You ghosted on me,” she said finding her voice. “Where’d you go?”

A shadow fell over his brow. “I went dark.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “It was rough, but I got through it.”

Concern had her studying him. He looked fine.

Better than fine, but the scars the intelligence officers carried were on the inside.

Appearances were deceiving to the world, but when you’re a spy, the pressure to stay safe, to not get caught, to gather intel, and to deliver results, were over-the-top intense. Danger hovered like a dark storm cloud.

“Looks like you’re okay,” she said. “I should get back to my party.” She hated leaving him, but she couldn’t stay there.

His penetrating gaze was making her crazy.

She couldn’t regulate her heart rate, couldn’t stop staring at him.

Desperate to pull him close and kiss him for days, she eyed his luscious mouth one final time.

She turned to leave, but he hauled her back, pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Fuck, I missed you.”

The moan shot out of her before she could stop it. She’d never been this close to him and his musky scent had her shuddering in a breath. Unable to resist the pull, she tilted her face toward him. The intensity in his hungry eyes devoured her.

“Stop me,” he warned.

She said nothing.

“Last chance.”

Her breathing had increased, the anticipation of what he’d do next made her quiver.

Silence.

He dipped down, kissed her. The second their mouths connected, she pushed up on her toes, wrapped her arms around him and opened her mouth, eager to welcome him inside.

Their growls roared in her ears, the intensity of his kiss ravaging her entire being. She was burning with desire, with a passion that had her grinding into him. On a panty-searing moan, he tightened his grip, tonguing her with a wildness that had her gasping for air.

Knock-knock.

She ended the kiss, broke away.

He opened the door.

A server stood there. “We’ve got a problem.”

“I should go,” Caroline said.

“Give me your number.”

“It hasn’t changed. It’s the same one you didn’t contact me on when you returned.”

Ignoring her zing, he said, “I’ll text you. ”

She left on wobbly knees and floated back to the private dining room. She’d been kissed before, but never, ever like that. Boys had kissed her. Too many to count, but this was the first time she’d been kissed by a man.

Oh. My. God.

The passion in his embrace had turned her into a savage.

If that server hadn’t shown up, I would have torn off his clothes to get at him.

In the private dining room, she sat down, and resumed eating.

“Well?” Sydney asked.

“I got the best birthday kiss of my entire life. Now, I can die a happy woman.” Her phone binged, and she read the text from Grey.

Happy Birthday Bella. Make this one count

She smiled.

Sydney leaned over, read the text. “Why does he call you that?”

“No idea.”

“When did it start?”

“Years ago, after we first met at HQ.”

“Do you know what bella means?”

Caroline smiled “It’s the name of a character from one of my favorite fairy tales.”

“That’s Belle,” Sydney corrected her. “It means beautiful in Italian. He’s been calling you beautiful.”

Her grin filled her face, the joy pounding through her.

My birthday just got a whole lot better.

GREYSTON E

Greystone dealt with the patron who tried to skip out on his bill, then returned to his office, fighting the urge to pull Austin from her party.

He’d spent the entire day reaching out to contacts and informants regarding the Day of Destruction.

No one knew a damn thing. The terror cell was very tight lipped, keeping their plans close to their chests.

Two months wasn’t enough time, but it’s what he’d been given to work with. Even so, he’d never get it done if he was working the job alone.

The Haqazzii terror cell was a group of cunning men driven by hatred who would stop at nothing to succeed. The more innocents they took down, the happier they were, but to come after America like this was unprecedented.

Growling out his frustration, Grey left his office to make the rounds.

First stop? The restrooms. People liked sneaking into the family restroom to screw.

As he made his way to the front, several people glanced in his direction.

He’d slow, ask how their meal was, then continue on.

He was the face of Santini and, damn, that felt good.

For the first time in thirty-two years, he was proud to be one.

He stopped at the hostess counter. “Hey, Tara.”

“Hi, Mr. Santini.”

“Bathroom check.”

Tara was a sweet, young woman who showed up every day, did her job, didn’t cause trouble, and kept things running smoothly. A good replacement for when he left.

Together, they made their way back to the restrooms. The men’s room was clear. He waited outside the ladies’ room.

“Hi,” said a woman. “Can I go in?”

“Go ‘head,” he replied.

“Are you waiting for your girlfriend?”

“I’m the GM. My staff is checking the restroom.”