Sexy Liar (Dirty Hacker 1)

PROLOGUE

THE FLASHES OF red and blue filled the dark sky as CIA Agent Rowan Hawke watched the Paris police handcuff Roger Moore, a hired hitman who’d evaded the CIA for months and had been on the FBI’s Most Wanted List for years.

“A job well done, Hawke,” the seductive voice hummed in his ear through his earpiece.

Alex McCoy. The best hacker in San Francisco. As a teenager, she was arrested for hacking into the CIA databases, and then she quietly got released under the agreement that she’d do contract work when her government—both the CIA and the FBI—needed her. When she’s not being ordered around by the Feds, she works in San Francisco for Blackwood Security, a private security detail company.

She’d come onto the case a week ago, and the magic had been there between them since after their first meeting when they ended up screwing in the basement parking lot of the Paris PD headquarters.

“You’re being too kind,” Rowan said, turning away from the scene and striding down the thin, dark alley with the cobblestone roads. “You’re the one who found him. I just chased him down.”

Alex’s laughter brushed across his scenes. “Well, that’s true, but you did all the running. Much, much harder.”

She never spoke with the arrogance she was due. Her mind was sharp and quick, and Rowan had been impressed by her from the second he met her. Which only continued when she put her hands on his body. Rowan had prided himself on being able to walk away from any woman. He needed to as part of his job description. Only this time, his feet moved him in the wrong direction.

When he didn’t fill the silence, she said, “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

“I guess it is,” he replied.

The case was done. Rowan planned on leaving Alex right after Moore was in custody and returning to New York City to await his next case. But he needed one more of taste of her. One more feel of her.

Rowan finally reached the place where the CIA had put them up. He entered the Hôtel Fleur, a boutique hotel set right in the heart of the city, and trotted up the stairs until he used his keycard to open the door. The room held Paris elegance with flowered wallpaper, antique furniture, and old paintings of people in Victorian times. Luxurious grand curtains were on either side of the only window in the room with the metal balcony. What interested Rowan more was the woman standing at that window.

Alex’s bright amber eyes locked onto him, her dark hair draping over her shoulder. “You said you were leaving.”

“I did,” he told her, shutting the door then closing the distance between them.

She tilted her head back and stared at his lips, nibbling her own, emotion flaring in her eyes. “Then why are you here?”

He shouldn’t be, but Rowan couldn’t help himself. He slid his hands across her face, loving the color that rose to her cheeks and how her mouth parted, then he threaded his fingers into her hair. “That’s a very good question.” With his other hand, he tucked a finger in the front of her jeans and tugged her to him. Her pupils dilated and her breath grew raspy. When he touched her, she melted, and damn, was it a rush. He opened her jeans and yanked her pants and panties down.

The heat in her gaze bore into his when she opened his jeans. “Should we talk about why you came back?”

He kicked off his pants and slid his hands down to her bottom as she stepped out of her jeans. “Yeah, we should definitely talk about that.” But he wouldn’t talk about it. He didn’t ever talk about these things. He took his pleasures. That’s where things stopped for him.

Only this time, he wanted one more taste before he walked away.

He sealed his mouth against hers, kissing her with all the intensity burning through him, and she moaned against his mouth. Urgency had him deepening the kiss, roughly holding her, imprinting this memory into his mind. He slowly walked her back until she was up against the wall. Not wasting any time, he grabbed a condom from the box they had on the end table and sheathed himself. When he looked her way again, Alex was primed and ready up against the wall. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes dark with need. He returned to her, hooked her leg onto his arm and entered her, while he fisted his other hand into her hair.

This time, he didn’t kiss her. No, he stared at her intimately. And she watched him right back.

She was tight, wet, and perfect with every slow stroke he gave, warming them both up. He’d learned the ways of her lithe body. Her breath was steady, lips parted slightly. “Not enough, luv?”

Her eyes twinkled.

He thrust forward. Hard.

Those eyes went huge and she smiled. “Better.”

He kept at that rhythm. Slow, but hard, until he caught the desperation in her eyes. Only then did he pick up speed, taking them both where they wanted to go. Over the edge. Together.

And when they did break apart, it was rough, loud, and she clung to him, more than she ever had before.

But then he forced her to let go, knowing if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he would. She’d gotten a hold of him in ways no one had before her. When he caught her gaze, he saw that same conflict on her face too.

“Just give me a minute before we talk, okay?” she asked softly.

He released her leg and stepped back. “Of course.”

Silently, she gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom. Rowan dressed back in his jeans and then stared at the closed bathroom door. He couldn’t stay. He never stayed. Hearing the sink’s faucet turn on, he headed for the door, knowing he’d always planned to leave the very first time he placed his lips on hers.

CHAPTER 1

Five years later…

ON THE CRISP autumn night in the heart of Manhattan, Rowan had a new assignment: Secure his target—former lover, Alex McCoy—to help catch New York City’s latest serial killer, recently coined by the media the Casanova Sadist. Of all the assignments he’d taken since the last time he saw her, this one filled him with the most dread.

When he arrived at the Cool Cat’s Piano Bar in New York City’s Theater District a little after nine o’clock at night, he noted

how the jet-black walls, the cushy booths, and crystal chandeliers set the mood of older, classier times. Alex sat at the bar, drinking a martini. Her long dark hair flowed down her back over her black leather jacket, her tight ass in her blue jeans drawing his attention. He’d remembered that body, every spectacular inch of her.

He never expected to work with her again. Let alone see her again.

Five years had gone by since they had spent that week together in Paris. Five years since he’d smelled the captivating spring-like scent that belonged only to her. An aroma that had a slight similarity to when the sun came out after it rained. Five years since she set those gorgeous intelligent amber eyes of hers on him. Five years since the unexplainable passion burning between them made him hard in a single breath. And five years since he’d told himself not to go to San Francisco to apologize for running out on her, when he very well knew she’d begun to care for him. Alex had been his biggest regret. The only woman he thought about after he left her. Maybe because she’d had a hold on him too.

He moved closer, the chatter from the busy bar brushing over him. While Alex still worked for Blackwood Security in San Francisco, she’d come to New York City for a vacation, which put her on his radar. He learned through the CIA’s undercover New York location where he’d been earlier today that she’d landed at John F. Kennedy International Airport. Alex was one of the best hackers out there. When she moved, the CIA kept a close eye on her, and her arriving in New York City set off alarms throughout the CIA. But the second he heard she was in town, he knew she could help him crack this case.

Only problem?

He’d run out on her without a word.

The man at the piano on stage played a soft, sensual song, setting the right mood for what exactly Rowan needed to do. He could manipulate easily. That was his job, and he needed to get her back on his side before asking for her help. Alex was smart. He knew he needed to tread lightly when he slid on the stool next to her. “Whiskey on the rocks,” he said to the bartender.

He noted the hitch of Alex’s breath before he caught the surprise in her wide eyes, which she controlled in an instant. Her gaze lingered on his mouth long enough to let him know she hadn’t forgotten him—or the sensual pull they shared—either. A bonus for him, making this seduction easier.

“You know I don’t believe in coincidences,” she finally said.

Rowan didn’t either. He also didn’t believe in lasting love. He trusted no one, and most times people around him got killed, which didn’t lend itself well to long-term relationships. But lust was real, and that red-hot sexual energy still pulsed between him and Alex, almost so tangible he could taste it in the air. “Yes, I do know that about you.”

She didn’t even miss a beat, glancing down at her drink in her hands. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your arrival at JFK raised alarms.”

Alex snorted. “Are you here to check up on me, then?”