Ice Woman Assignment by Austin Camacho Read Free Book Online

She sat beside a small table. Beyond her, at the other end of the long room stood a desk flanked by two empty chairs. It seemed hotter in the room, which carried a faint jasmine scent.
    Morgan heard a subtle background sound he could not place, and the world was vibrating slightly. Sitting up hurt, but he did anyway. His hands were cuffed behind him. Felicity’s were too. He wished he could get out of them as easily as she could.
    Track lighting on each side of the ceiling burned into his eyes. He did not recognize his three muscular guards, but one of Felicity’s escorts was her dancing partner. He examined them all with care, evaluating how dangerous they might be based on their stance, their alertness, their hands, and the hard look in their eyes. Those eyes stole repeated furtive glances at Felicity, and the reason was obvious. Her dress, torn in front, revealed her left breast. Had she resisted capture? Or did one of the men just decide to debase her?
    Felicity gave Morgan an encouraging look, her face telling him that she was relaxed and confident. Morgan returned a small nod, while thinking that he would have to figure out which of the men exposed her. He wanted tomake sure he killed the right man.
    Then Morgan saw the woman behind the desk. She was small, but not petite. In fact she was nicely rounded with black, straight hair. She had a strong face with the Native American’s high cheekbones and reddish cast. And then there were her eyes.
    â€œThey really are silver,” Morgan said, standing.
    â€œThey are indeed,” the woman said with only the slightest accent. She jumped down from her executive chair and walked around her desk. With nothing for comparison, he would not know she was so short. She wore very tight black pants and boots. Her tank top revealed a flat, muscular stomach. As she walked her hair bounced against the backs of her thighs.
    â€œSo you’re the ice woman,” Morgan said. “And the room is moving.”
    â€œIt’s a tractor-trailer,” Felicity said. Despite her torn dress, her posture did not reflect modesty or shame and she made no effort to cover herself. Clearly she had more important things to worry about than being gawked by lowlifes. Besides, she had reason to be proud of her body.
    â€œSo where are we?” Morgan asked.
    Felicity faced the woman in charge. “We’re wandering the freeways, aren’t we? It’s rather a nice setup. That door we came through actually opens onto a loading dock. They just park this thing up against it. Looks like any other room from inside the bar but it’s really a very nice mobile office.”
    â€œI don’t like being watched in your country,” their hostess said.
    â€œOh, like we’re supposed to know you,” Morgan said.
    â€œOf course you do. I am Anaconda.”
    â€œSeriously? Like the snake?” Morgan asked. “Your friends call you Anna?” The man nearest him punched him in the stomach. He slouched, but continued to stand.
    â€œI wanted to meet you,” Anaconda said, hopping up to sit on the desk like a child. “You are really quite remarkable people. I suppose I should be flattered that you chose to get mixed up in my business. Despite my resources you were hard to track. Oh, and my man Eduardo wants to meet you again, Mr. Stark. You ruined his whole day.”
    â€œEduardo?” Morgan asked. “Tall guy, yellow shirt, gold chains for days?” Anaconda nodded, and Morgan returned a smile. “Boy seems to have a lot of trouble with his face.” Morgan’s nearest neighbor punched him in the side. He grunted.
    â€œI’ve learned a great deal about you in the last few days,” Anaconda said. “You, Mister Stark, were a professional soldier for hire for some years. Martial arts expert. Apparently gifted in judgment of distance and direction. Now you own a security firm with this woman.”
    â€œThat’s all a