Invincible Read Free

chairs in front of Rudy’s desk. “I really have fallen down the rabbit hole,” she murmured, shaking her head.
    Max strode across the room to stare out the window. The FBI’s concrete-and-glass Miami Field Office was nowhere near the palm trees, white-sand beaches and marine-blue waters of Miami Beach. Instead, the view from Rudy’s fourth-floor window in North Miami Beach revealed a network of superhighways leading into, out of and around Miami.
    Max turned back to her and asked, “How much tennis are you playing these days?”
    The question, coming out of the blue, surprised her into replying, “I usually play on weekends with the kids who attend my dad’s tennis academy.”
    â€œYou look fit enough.” Max crossed and perched once again on the corner of the desk in front of her. He proceeded with a perusal of her body that left her feeling flushed. And indignant.
    â€œWould you like me to undress so you can take a better look?”
    He met her gaze, then slowly, seductively, looked her up and down again. “Since I’ve already seen what’s underneath that cheap blue suit, my imagination can fill in the blanks.”
    She shoved herself out of the chair and stalked over to look out the window herself. Having just noted all the improvements in his physique over the years, it was humiliating to be told he still saw the underdeveloped body of a sixteen-year-old girl. It was true her bosom had never been anything to shout about. But he’d seemed more than pleased with her small breasts during the one night they’d spent together.
    At sixteen, she’d been a world-class athlete. Her body had been toned and firm. It still was. The flyaway blond curls she’d worn in a ponytail on the tennis court were captured ruthlessly in a bun at her nape, although stray curls always seemed to escape. She reached up self-consciously to tuck one behind her ear.
    Max seemed to have grown an inch or two taller, to perhaps 6'3", but she was the same 5'9" she’d been at sixteen. She wore no more makeup now to flatter her blue eyes or conceal her freckled complexion than she had then. And her bosom had stayed as small and trim as the rest of her.
    â€œYou look even more beautiful now than you did ten years ago, Princess,” he said softly.
    Kristin realized he was standing right behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.She hated the fact that his compliment pleased her so much. At the same time, she wondered how he’d managed to cross the room without her hearing a sound.
    He blew softly on a stray curl that lay against her throat.
    She felt a frisson of desire run down her spine and jerked herself away from him. “Stop that!”
    She saw the knowing smile on his face and felt her flush deepen. She deflected his attempt at seduction by saying, “Who is it you’re here to see, Max? Some once-upon-a-time princess? Or Agent Lassiter? Make up your mind.”
    â€œRight,” he said. “Down to business.” He met her gaze and said, “I have a job for you.”
    â€œI already have a job,” she snapped.
    â€œYour boss has agreed to give you leave to perform a special mission.”
    â€œA special mission?” she parroted back, adding a scalding dose of sarcasm.
    â€œThere’s been an assassination threat against President Taylor.”
    That sounded real. That sounded ominous. Andrea Taylor wasn’t a particularly popular president because of actions she’d taken to end the ongoing war in the Middle East. “How could you possibly know something like that?”
    â€œInterpol intercepted email traffic—source never identified—that suggested someone is planning to take advantage of the president’s seating proximity to the tennis courts to kill her during the U.S. Open tennisevent over the Labor Day weekend in New York. The president is a huge fan of the game and always