HuntressTakesAll
She can mix it up with hit men, but the target may prove to be her undoing.
Brig Monroe is a brainy security specialist with unique paranormal abilities—a geek with muscles. When it comes to the up-close-and-personal, Brig likes sex as much as the next guy, but she doesn’t do emotion, she’s amused by people who believe in true love.
Duncan Cameron is a purebred Scottish prince, and sovereign ruler of the rim planet, Ben Nevis II. The media likes to portray him as a playboy. The assassins on his trail call him the target.
When Brig is hired to fortify Cameron’s defenses, her perspective on life is put to test the instant she meets the dazzling prince. The last thing she needs is the distraction of white-hot lust when one-step in the wrong direction could mean death for both of them.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Huntress Takes All
Copyright © 2013
Ali Atwood
ISBN: 978-1-77111-565-0
Cover art by Angela Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
Look for us online at:
www.eXtasybooks.com
Huntress Takes All
Huntress Chronicles Three
By
Ali Atwood
Chapter One
The Kalaris Star System, Ben Nevis II.
16 October 2301.
Dawn was breaking as the red and silver shuttle craft glided slowly downward to settle inside the docking bay’s circle of blue lights. Unbuckling her harness, Brig Monroe peered through the observation shield, scrutinizing the large glass-fronted terminal building and the rows of empty docking bays. Flicking her gaze over the tarmac apron, she saw lines of parked vehicles emblazoned with the Cameron Transport insignia. “Hmm, it’s an impressive looking station, but we appear to be the only ones here.”
Studying the control board, Chet Boyd glanced up distractedly. He was decorated ex-fighter pilot who knew his way around the galaxies. Brig used his services whenever he was available. His expression softened as he looked at her. “Traffic’s normally light at this spaceport. Nevis, as the natives call it, tends to discourage casual visitors.”
Brig bent to look up at the spaceport’s control center. “So nothing gets through the stratosphere without official permission.”
“Correct, but later today, once the trade talk delegates start to arrive, this place will be jumping.”
Brig could imagine the scene with agitated transmissions flying back and forth between the tower regulators and the impatient pilots circling their crafts while they waited for a free docking space. With visitors touching down from a multitude of planets, it would be easy for one or several hired assassins to slip past spaceport security and go after Duncan Cameron, Nevis’s sovereign ruler. Brig was here to ensure that didn’t happen.
“Someone’s coming,” Chet murmured.
Shrugging into the large backpack that held her weapons, Brig bent to follow his line of vision, seeing a red ground-to-air sports car speeding along the service road. Since the seasons on this planet were reversed from Earth’s, the driver had evidently lowered the top on the low-slung vehicle to enjoy the clear spring weather.
Chet gave a low whistle. “Fancy ride, I assumed they’d pick you up in a basic security vehicle.”
Brig nodded. “Yeah, that’s the norm.”
“Your client must be loaded if his security team drives transport like that.”
She shrugged. “Supposedly, he’s the richest man in the Kalaris star system.” She imagined he looked like most of her well-heeled clients, overweight and balding. Picking up her duffle bag, she flipped her single braid behind her shoulder and centered a black peaked cap on her head. “Okay, Chet, thanks for the ride. Maybe I’ll catch you on my return journey.”
“Look forward to it, Monroe. Take care of yourself.”
“You, too, flyboy.” She gave him a two-finger salute before she turned and bounded down the extended rampway. Since Nevis’s surface gravity was weaker than Earth’s it put an extra spring in her stride.
When she wasn’t working, Brig kept her hyper-senses on an even keel. Now, she pushed them to medium
alert
, her gaze sweeping right to left to scan the surrounding landscape. Nothing moved that shouldn’t move, and she couldn’t smell anything threatening in the spring air.
With the planet’s twin suns rising behind her, she had a clear view of the man leaning casually against the hood of the red car. Brig judged him to be in his mid-thirties. His hair was dark and longish, and he was dressed informally in black pants and a cream-colored sweater. It was difficult to tell if he was part of the palace security team or some sort of ripped royal gofer.
She noted she was also getting a marked once-over. Her build took most people aback. Not only was she was tall for a female, but her years of physical training, in a mix of martial arts, had given her a body as powerful as most men. That was fine with her. Appearances were everything in her line of work.
Now, she heard the stranger’s communicator buzz. She watched him push away from the car and turn his back while he spoke to the caller. Brig noted he was unusually large, perhaps a head taller than her with a solid set of muscles stretching his cream sweater. Her gaze drifted downward, taking in his tight black pants, which outlined powerful thighs…and a very nice butt. She ignored the twist of reflex lust and listened carefully. Anyone she met from now on could be a would-be murderer.
“No, it won’t be a problem. I’ll speak to him privately when I return.”
His rumbling baritone carried an air of authority and a hint of an accent.
Brig surmised it was a Scottish burr, since Ben Nevis’s colonizers had originated from Scotland. On a deeper level,
her hyper-senses told her the stranger’s chi harbored warrior traits, no surprise there if he was a bodyguard. Since she didn’t pick up any dark energy, she relaxed a trifle.
“That’ll be fine,” she heard him tell the other party. “Set the others up for an early meet tomorrow.” He clicked off his link and turn to face Brig. Gold glinted on his wrist as he removed his sunglasses. He stared for a long strumming moment. “Good morning. I’m Duncan Cameron.”
Brig was astonished both by the fact that the man himself had come to meet her and by the electric blue eyes examining her as though she were an undetermined and unexpected species.
He was the exact opposite of what she’d expected, disturbingly attractive with a sculptured mouth and smooth tanned skin that showed he spent a lot of time outdoors. Since she didn’t care for the fact that looking at him made her feel as if she needed to take a deep steadying breath, she rolled her shoulders and gave him her I’m-here-to-save-your-ass face. “Good morning. You can call me Brig or Monroe.” She never used her full name, Brigitta. It sounded too feminine for her line of work.
Cameron gave her a long level look. “Very well, Monroe. Let’s get going. We can talk on the way.”
Still wondering why Mr. Big would trouble himself to drive out to meet her when fawning minions must surround him, it suddenly struck— “Wait! Has something happened? Did you receive another death threat?” Quickly, she scanned the countryside again.
Cameron cast her an irritated glance. “Nothing has happened. Everything is fine. Now, let’s go. I have a meeting to attend.”
Brig couldn’t tell if it was bruised ego or something else that was annoying him. Men could be absurdly touchy about their male pride. If he felt unmanned because a female would be
standing guard over him that was his problem
. “Fine,” she said, “but if you want my advice you’ll
stop
tooling around in that little number—” She tipped her head toward the sleek open-topped car. “You might as well
put a bull’s-eye on your back.”
His blue eyes narrowed on her face. “I’ll assume you’re not deliberately trying to annoy me, Miz Monroe, and I’ll tell you just as bluntly that I will travel as I wish.”
She shrugged. “Your call,
but since I come with a very high price tag
, w
hy pay it if you’re not planning to take my advice?”
“Because I didn’t engage you personally…m
y Minister of Trade, Hagen Warner, took it upon himself to
initiate your contract.
”
She nodded slowly as she absorbed that. “Understood, but if
Intel
surmises that you might be a target during the upcoming trade talks
, why are you not taking the threat seriously?”
He shrugged. “I’m not disregarding it, but threats are part-and-parcel of my job, and it’s not the first time Warner has overreacted
. But enough about that. What I primarily wish to discuss with you is your style of behavior while you’re here.”
His high-handed attitude
was really starting to piss her off
.
“I don’t know how you normally go about protecting your clients, but in this instance, since you’re
here under
sufferance, I don’t want you in my face while I’m conducting business.”
While it was
tempting to trade a few sharp barbs with His Haughtiness and head back to the shuttle, her business sense prevailed. On top of her fee of fifty thousand universal credits to safeguard Cameron until the trade meetings were completed, her contract stipulated she’d receive double that amount, if she could identify and neutralize the hired gun.
Brig had earmarked the bonus for the charity she’d set up two years ago. A shelter for battered women and their children named Haven House, in memory of Anya Brooke, a college friend of Brig’s who had died from a beating at the hands of her husband. Brig didn’t learn about the years of domestic abuse Anya had endured until it was too late, but in her friend’s name, Brig could help other women. “Right,” she said. “I’ll do my best to carry out my duties while following your directives.”
He held her gaze. Calculating her mindset, she thought.
“Good, so we understand each other.”
Before she could respond, his com-link buzzed again. This time he glanced down at the screen, frowned and rejected the call.
Watching his expression
while she took her sunglasses out of her backpack,
Brig picked up an emotion in Cameron that told her it was a woman trying to reach him.
Doubtless, there was no shortage of beautiful women in his life, and why would there be? Wealth and power were heavy-duty aphrodisiacs, not to mention his spectacular looks.
He surprised her with an unexpected show of courtesy, bending to haul up her duffle bag and place it on the rear seat next to her backpack.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
As he turned toward her again, something dark and intense flashed in his blue eyes, causing her senses to spike sharply in response. For one totally absurd moment, she got an image of him moving in to lock lips with her in a hard bruising kiss. Completely flummoxed, she went rigid, her breathing suspended. When he merely reached behind her to open the car door, she sidestepped, calling herself a moron.
“Jump in,” he said. “The journey will take approximately twenty minutes. I’ll answer any questions you might have on the way.”
Feeling as if
hot-to-trot was now flashing on her forehead,
she covered her eyes with sunglasses, and sank into the beige leather seat that felt as soft as butter. She didn’t doubt that Cameron had picked up on her reaction, and was amused by it. She had to be the exact opposite of the women he normally took to bed.
