Free Live Wire by Cristin Harber

his throat and nodded to the crowd on the couch, one of whom got up and placed two Makarov semiautomatic pistols on the table. The threat had been made.
    They stared. He stared. Parker’s blood thumped, pulse racing. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Wrong once before, he needed to read this situation right.
    He narrowed his gaze on the leader. Everything Parker needed to know was there as he tried to read his mind, to see the gray area in the black-and-white world that the guy lived in.
    The Russian’s eyes narrowed. His jaw flexed. Anger? Impatience? Or was it a hollow threat?
    The man was greedy. What Parker offered stood to make millions, and the time lost to finding another Rossi… if Render had been that easy to replace, they would have done it already.
    “I work for you.” Parker pointed at the lead Gornovsky, playing to his ego. “Not him or the rest of your underlings.”
    There was a shift of testosterone, an uncomfortable challenge made. But Parker was right, and the man let out a sputtering of Russian without taking his eyes of Parker. There was no doubt what the words had been. They weren’t Kill the woman or Shed blood . They were clear and simple: Pay the man .
    Parker and Gornovsky didn’t turn but remained eyeball to eyeball. Another man pushed out of his chair. Parker forced his hands to steady, needing to remain stoic and not check for a gun pressed to Lexi’s temple. His heart slammed in his chest, and for a moment, he prayed that his calculated risk was right and that Lexi wouldn’t be a casualty and Render Rossi’s bank account was about to be filled with an illegal Russian payment.
    “Pay the man.”
    The Russian barked into the phone, and Parker hid his sigh of relief.
    Shaky seconds later, a slip of paper was handed to Gornovsky, and only then did the man look away from Parker. He read it and nodded, sliding it across the table. “Your bank transfer.”
    Parker nodded, opening his laptop again. “And now for your—”
    The hotel room windows rattled as the door burst wide. The familiar-enough sound of a raid stabbed him with shock as booted men wielding high-powered weapons swarmed.
    “Police! Everybody down on the ground.”
    The Russian task force engulfed the space. Shouts repeated, voices escalating. “Faces on the ground. Get down. Weapons down. Police.”
    The Russians complied but with menace and threats that needed no words.
    The civilians shouted their innocence and begged for help.
    Bishop covered Lexi, and Parker took a deep, thankful breath, slowly unfolding himself from the chair, keeping his cover as Render Rossi and dropping to the floor alongside his cursing Russian counterparts.
    They had what they needed for Gornovsky arrests, and his woman was safe. Job well done.
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    Lexi would have been lying to herself if she said neither adrenaline nor worry had affected her thinking the whole day. But those feelings had gone. What still had her buzzing?
    Parker—in those glasses. She wasn’t one for fetishes. That wasn’t even her thing. But those were hot .
    And they were coming home. He could lose the khaki pants. Or maybe not. The button-down geeky-professor look did something for her too. It was different. As if he were another guy. His hair accentuated his bone structure, and his eyes were dark. It was fun. Like playing dress up.
    She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. All she had to do was wait for him to come find her once this was over and—God, could these cops who had a million questions for her tell that she was hot and bothered— because of a pair of glasses ?
    The hotel room door opened, and there Parker stood, eyes searching the room. They landed on her. “Are you done with Lexi Black?”
    She shivered at the way he said her name and how he owned her with an unwavering stare.
    “Absolutely.” Bishop strode forward to Parker, and they made introductions and small talk. Parker kept her in his line of sight until Bishop