More Than a Mission - Caridad Pineiro [1]
He had been looking for her ever since, intent on avenging Mitch’s death. Now here she was, being handed to him on a silver platter. The only problem was, he could do nothing about it until after the Lazlo Group had all the answers it needed regarding Prince Reginald’s murder. But after that…
Nothing would keep him from giving the Sparrow just what she deserved.
The young woman they suspected of being the Sparrow—Elizabeth Moore, aka Elizabeth Cavanaugh—ran a restaurant in this modest seaside town. The restaurant—apparently a cover for her real occupation—had become quite well-known for its seafood and Silvershire-inspired cuisine.
He had seen the help wanted sign go up late yesterday morning in her restaurant’s front window, so it was the perfect time to see about applying for the bartending position.
Pulling his PDA off his belt as he approached the Sparrow’s restaurant, he used the walkie-talkie adapter he had built into the unit to cue Lucia, the Lazlo group’s top computer specialist, to see if she was picking up the signal from the earpiece he was wearing.
“Mixmaster to Red Rover. Come in Red Rover. I’m about to go in.”
Lucia’s chuckle crackled across the airwaves a moment before she said, “Mixmaster…Do we really have to do this stupid name thing?”
Aidan smiled. Lucia was never one for clandestine shenanigans. Shutting off his walkie-talkie, he replied, “No problema, Lucia. Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Blender Boy,” she responded.
He immediately asked, “Kir Royale?”
There was a barely noticeable pause before Lucia said, “One part creme de cassis to five parts champagne.”
Satisfied that the wire was working, he started walking toward the restaurant and said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
The sun was warm on her back as she tended the garden at the front of the restaurant. Wildly spreading nasturtiums lapped over onto the large granite slabs that made up the patio where guests shared drinks while they waited for a table inside the ivy-covered stone building that housed her restaurant.
Carefully she deadheaded older blossoms and picked others for inclusion in one of the seasonal salads she was offering on this week’s menu. She was just about finished when she heard a footfall behind her. A man walked through the opening of the low stone wall that separated her property from the main road. A very attractive man.
Slipping the basket holding her gatherings onto her arm, she strolled toward him, easing off her gardening gloves as she did so.
“May I help you?” Elizabeth asked as she met him by the path leading to the restaurant. She realized she had to look up slightly to meet his gaze. He was about half a foot taller than her with a lean athletic build that accentuated the long lines of his body.
He motioned to her front window with one hand and replied, “I noticed the sign. I’m here to apply for the bartender’s position.”
She examined him more carefully, from the faded and sinfully tight jeans to his logo T-shirt and black leather jacket. He looked more like a tourist on vacation than someone interested in permanent employment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch your name.”
He held out his hand with a brisk, almost military snap. “Aidan Rawlings. Are you the owner?”
With a quick glance at her hand to make sure it wasn’t too dirty from her gardening, she shook his hand and said, “Elizabeth Moore. Chief cook and bottle washer. Literally.”
He smiled with teeth too white and too perfect for normal humans. They seemed apropos with his shaggy and sunstreaked blond hair and eyes so blue she couldn’t believe he wasn’t wearing colored contacts. His smile broadened as he noticed her perusal of him and that she was still busily shaking his hand.
Yanking it away, she wiped her hand down on the gardening apron she wore, realizing her palm had gotten sweaty from the brief contact. “I’m sorry. You said you were here for the bartender’s job?”
He nodded and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. Or