Secret Agent Sheikh. Linda Conrad

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СКАЧАТЬ his breath. “It’s guaranteed to warm up the chilliest woman on earth. Even the ice queen Celile Kocak doesn’t stand a chance during Carnivale.”

      Oh hell. The man was doing his damnedest to unnerve her. Well, no matter what Tarik Kadir sent her way, she wouldn’t let him throw her. She would remain in control.

      After all, Jass O’Reilly was a pro.

Chapter 4

      Tarik led the way through the grand lobby of the Copacabana Palace Hotel. The towering sixty-foot columns and ornate glass chandeliers were familiar, but the feeling of being watched was unique.

      He liked crowds. Liked the anonymity of getting lost in the confusion. When their driver had first reminded him of Carnivale, Tarik’s brain began processing new ways of completing their mission over the next few days. He’d thought of the festivities as a terrific idea for a cover.

      But he hadn’t counted on having the exotic and stunning faux Celile Kocak in tow. Every male head in the cavernous lobby turned to stare as she walked past. No wonder Sheik Zohdi seldom let more than a few feet pass between them in public.

      Tarik tried to control the possessive urges he felt toward her. In reality the woman beside him was not the ice queen. Instead she was Jass O’Reilly, every bit as gorgeous as Celile but ten times more annoying. Everything he said seemed to strike her the wrong way. Despite his usual charm and glib small talk, she’d refused to warm up.

      But that didn’t mean his body didn’t grow too warm every time he looked her way. Damned woman was hot. Both in the guise of Celile and out. And he figured she was going to make him sweat a lot more before this mission was over.

      “We’ve already registered you two,” their driver said quietly. “And your suite’s checked and clean. We’ll be able to go over mission specifics without being overheard.”

      So … while they’d been in the air, the Task Force had been busy devising a plan. Good enough. Tarik needed to keep his head in the game—and off his partner.

      After they settled into the three-room suite and double-checked for listening devices and cameras, the driver nodded toward the dining table. “We couldn’t secure a penthouse suite on such short notice at this time of year, but I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

      Jass removed her jacket and plopped into one of the chairs around the table. “It’ll do for Celile and Zohdi. They’re not on vacation.”

      “Well,” their driver began as he set up the rest of the chairs around the table. “This is the honeymoon suite. Part of your cover story is that the two of you are taking a romantic interlude while you wait for the upcoming auction.”

      “Uh …” Jass jumped up, looking a little green around the edges. “Excuse me a moment.” She grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair and headed straight for the bedroom.

      “Do we know yet when the auction is supposed to take place?” Tarik gladly reached for any excuse to put the spotlight back on the mission and take it off his errant libido.

      The driver turned to him with his hand outstretched and not a trace of accent in his English. “We haven’t met, Kadir. The name’s Joäo Bosque, CIA station chief. Have a seat.”

      Tarik joined him at the table. “What do we know?”

      “Coincidentally, we’ve been keeping an eye on this Russian character you’re after. His name is Andrei Eltsin. He blew into Rio several months ago and immediately took over the territory and operation of one of our bicheiros—those are the gang operators of this city’s illegal lottery.” Bosque scooted his chair closer.

      “We inserted a man inside Eltsin’s bicheiro about a month ago. Their headquarters is in a penthouse above a nightclub in the Lapa district.” Bosque poured himself a cup of the strong Brazilian coffee that had been placed on the table along with a basket of fresh fruit. “Our inside man is there gathering intel on their money-laundering operations. We’re sure some of those billions are going to fund terrorism operators in the U.S.”

      Tarik nodded and sat back. “Okay. But what about the auction?”

      “Our man isn’t positive where, but he believes it’s to be held on the last night of Carnivale. Fat Tuesday.”

      “Makes sense. But …”

      “It’s supposed to take place in Eltsin’s retreat in the mountains right outside the city.” Jass added the new info as she floated back into the room, looking light and airy in a floral silk pants outfit. “I received a message from Ed. He’s on his way into the country, taking a military transport. Seems the real Celile was … convinced … to contact Eltsin and put her name on the bidders list for Tuesday. We’re in.”

      “Fast work.” Tarik couldn’t keep from staring. His real-life partner, the covert agent, had become a real-live piece of art in cool shades of green and blue. And her movements were those of a lithe dancer as she crossed the room.

      “The CIA has a convincing team of interrogators working with Celile and Zohdi.” Jass picked up an apple and took a bite with relish.

      Drooling at the sight, all Tarik could think at that moment was that he was glad his name wasn’t Adam. This Eve was already tempting him enough to send him straight to hell.

      The honeymoon suite. Jass’s knees still wobbled at the idea, but she wouldn’t give Kadir the satisfaction of seeing her sweat. They could straighten out the sleeping arrangements later—when she’d taken control of the mission again. In the meantime she would sleep on the couch or in the bathtub if necessary.

      “Do we know what item we’re supposed to bid on?” Tarik looked slightly annoyed.

      What did he have to be annoyed about? He was on this mission despite her reservations. He should be grateful.

      “No,” she managed past another bite of apple. “Celile honestly doesn’t know. And our interrogators couldn’t devise a way for her to ask Eltsin without sounding suspicious either. We’re going to need—”

      “Reconnaissance,” Tarik interrupted. “Our intel unit will continue gathering info from the underground.”

      And by our intel unit he meant the Kadir family? She opened her mouth to complain when Tarik stood and backed away from the table.

      “Come on,” he said as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet beside him. “Put on your dancing shoes.”

      He drew her into his arms and pulled her close. Too close.

      “How rusty are your samba skills, darling?” He’d whispered those words into her temple, but she could swear she felt the pounding of his heart right through both their clothes. “Need a few quick lessons?”

      With the way he was holding her, that question could have a double meaning. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

      “I’ll match my samba skills to yours anytime, darling.” She could barely believe how parched her voice sounded.

      Tarik СКАЧАТЬ