Agent I1: Tristan [01] The D.I.R.E. Agency Read Free

henchman was one, smokin’ hot hunk.
    Sitting up on the side of the bed, Rachel watched as he stepped under a running shower on the patio. Water coursed down his tall, lean frame, catching in the thick braids of muscle and sinew that covered his bare chest and chiseled arms. The blue swim trunks he wore molded to his rocky thighs and downright perfect rear.
    Turning, he smoothed back his wet, black hair. Tattooed between his wide shoulders was a vivid, three-D image of two intertwined atoms. Stamped in the nucleus of one was the number seventy-nine, the second, the number twenty-nine.
    How did he do it? The ability to teleport was something out of a Star Trek episode. Fiction .
    Obviously not, Rachel .
    Shutting off the water, he turned and grabbed a brown towel off a hook. What did he need a towel for? Between the bright sun and his hot body, surely his flesh dried itself.
    Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. She wore Cody Brewster’s engagement ring, for goodness sake, and Tristan had taken her from Creekmore against her will. What in the world was wrong with her?
    Jumping up from the bed, she took in her surroundings. Based on the male clothes scattered around, she stood in his bedroom. Beige-colored walls encompassed three quarters of the large room, the fourth done in a dark teal. A potted palm sat in a corner adjacent to a contemporary, espresso headboard. A matching dresser sat on the opposite side of the room, its surface scattered with keys, a wallet, a phone and the tie he’d worn earlier. The mussed bed lay covered in a thick, satiny comforter done in bold shades of brown, tan and teal.
    A quiver shot through Rachel. The idea that he’d carried her from the beach to his big, comfy bed battled with the anger that simmered in her stomach. How dare he and Aidan just take over her life and steal her away to… the gorgeous Caribbean?
    Ignore that ripped physique and focus on the anger, Rachel .
    She had to get home and straighten out this mess with Cody.
    Moving to the sliding glass door, the remainder of her up-do flopped over one eye. Yanking out the pearl pins, she tossed them on the bed. She had to look a mess in her crumpled wedding gown, but that was the least of her worries.
    Why did she feel a breeze on her backside? Looking over her shoulder, Rachel gasped when she saw the entire train of her gown had disappeared. Rushing over to the dresser mirror, she saw it had been sheared clean off. The dress lining remained, but her layers of ruffles were gone.
    She gulped. Tristan had told her not to let go. What if that had been a foot, or a layer of backside? Not that she couldn’t use an inch or two sheared off in that particular area...
    Answers. She needed answers.
    Stepping onto the patio, her dress swished as she made her way across the concrete in her bare feet.
    He had removed her shoes, too.
    If she thought a nearly naked Tristan was hot from several feet away, up close, a Bunsen burner had nothing on the heat this man emitted. Covered in hard, sculpted muscle, his flesh appeared smooth and slick. Like any Navy SEAL – former SEAL - the man wore confidence, arrogance and strength like Superman’s S . Strong, silent types usually intimidated her, but she wouldn’t let him know that.
    “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”
    His deep voice brought Rachel out of her musings. Okay, ogling .
    She lifted her chin. “How?”
    Facing away from her, Tristan hung the towel back on the hook. Water drops fell from the thick waves at the base of his neck to trail down his tattoo and into his swim trunks. A thick, copper and gold armband caught in the sunlight. Intricate carvings circled the band clamped on his left forearm, a prominent, round symbol centered on top. Rachel fought the urge to grab his arm and study it closer.
    “I want answers, Tristan.”
    Nonchalantly, he opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a t-shirt. “Have you ever heard of Einstein’s Philadelphia Experiment?”
    Rachel