Master No (Masters and Mercenaries, #9)(14)

Erin stood up. “That’s a deal, Doc.” She winked and left, going off to find her too-pretty prince charming.

Faith had given them the master bedroom. She didn’t need it. The smaller bedrooms in this place were more than enough for her. She hoped Erin and Theo brought some love to the place because she was fairly certain her father hadn’t.

She quickly read and responded to her other messages, telling her father she’d made it to the house safely and no she didn’t want to testify in front of congress on the impact of the West African Ebola outbreak and how it would impact the US. He wouldn’t like her answer. She would push for funding for research and better hospitals in Third World countries, rather than his answer to fund pharmaceutical companies who would then take the money earmarked for a cure for hemorrhagic fevers and divert it into the next plastic surgery wonder drug that they would make billions from.

The second was from the doctor she’d left in charge of the clinic, asking about vaccines. She explained where they were stored and instructed him to put the protocols back in place with the singular exception of the flu vaccines from last season. She’d pulled those out of the rotation. She’d explained in the e-mail that those vaccines were not to be used under any circumstances until further notice. She had some questions about them and she would find the answers when she got to the States.

Now that the crisis was dying down, the clinic could get back to its primary focus of well care for locals.

She sighed and closed the lid of her laptop. She would do exactly as Master T had asked in the morning. She would wake up and prepare and then send him a message.

She had a few weeks to get to know this man, to talk to him and let him get to know her. It was good.

It was really good because she was pretty sure she was going to sleep with that man.

When she slept, she dreamed of a man with golden brown hair and a smile that made her heart pound.





Ten’s laptop chirped and he forced himself not to fall all over the place trying to answer it.

“Sounds like you have a message, boss.” The reason for his stillness turned his way with a stupid grin on his face. Hutch had a bag of gummy bears in one hand as he looked over the top of his monitor.

Ten continued to his seat. He’d gotten up to grab a cup of that heated motor oil Tag called coffee. He slipped back into his chair.

Big Tag walked in, a cup of coffee in one hand and a thick stack of papers in the other. He looked over at Ten as Ten’s computer chirped again. “You need to take that, lover boy?”

Ten glanced down and forced his face to remain perfectly blank.

Good morning, Sir. It’s afternoon here, but I thought you should know we’re enjoying our last day before coming back to the States.

Another ding and a picture came through. It was Faith wearing an oddly sedate bathing suit. Most women her age would be in a bikini, but Faith’s suit was a one piece with a little skirt around the hips. Still, it couldn’t hide her curves or the way the sun kissed her skin. Her face was up to the sun. He fought the instinct to reach out and brush his fingers over the picture.

He also fought his secondary instinct, which was to write her back, order her to go somewhere private and take that suit off for him.

Weeks of talking to her, flirting with her, were taking their toll. He wanted Faith McDonald. He wanted her underneath him, her legs spread, that warm smile of hers welcoming him deep inside her soft body.

“I think I can handle it, Tag. Why don’t you get started?” He quickly typed back a message. You look beautiful. I hope you’ll enjoy the sun here, too. I’ve made reservations for the four of us at a friend’s restaurant the night you come in. I’m counting the hours.

He was disconcerted to discover he was actually counting the hours. Given the fact that Dallas was seven hours behind Munich, she would be going to bed soon to get ready for an early flight. He’d thought about picking them up at the airport, but decided to play it cool and simply meet her at Sean Taggart’s restaurant later that night.

So Ian was picking them up. Ian would be taking them to Theo’s new house. Ian would be hauling her suitcases around and it f*cking rankled. Which was precisely why Ten wouldn’t give and pick her up.

“All right then. Hutch has gathered some intel on the sister and Chelsea’s been monitoring some activity from within the Agency,” Tag explained as he played around with the computer that was stationed in the conference room. He seemed to be loading something he wanted projected on the back wall. McKay-Taggart was big on graphics. “She’s trying to lay low for the moment so Simon’s going to relay her report. And we might have to stop because we’ve got a couple of guests coming in. Grace is going to show them in when they get here.”

Chelsea was laying low because Ten had been the one to hire Chelsea Weston. He was certain she was under a lot of scrutiny given her connections to McKay-Taggart. There was really only one question he wanted answered about the Agency. “Is there an active kill order on me?”

His laptop dinged again. I’m looking forward to it, Sir. I’m very excited to finally meet you in person. I feel like I know you already.

She knew absolutely nothing about him. Not even his real name. As far as she was concerned, he was Timothy Graham. He’d selected the last name with care. It had been Phoebe’s alias for years. He was used to using it. Typically, he would have used his foster father’s last name, but McDonald knew too much about Franklin Grant and his foster sons. So Graham had been a suitable replacement. It was best to go with something similar. Something easy for him to answer to.