"Special Agent Coleman, it's good to meet you." Isaiah held out a hand. It couldn't be anyone else. Not exactly what he expected, but then Rachel Coleman did spend most of her time pretending to be a madame or a stripper or a call girl. Her suit was perfectly Bureau, but it clung in ways an agent's didn't normally. And "Rack" wasn't just short for Rachel or indicative of how much her targets felt her methods reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition.
Isaiah forced himself to keep his eyes firmly above her chin.
Not as easy a task as it should have been. Russ didn't seem to even try and focused on curves that would make a porn queen jealous. Isaiah wondered where to find napkins handy to wipe up the drool. Vicky rolled her eyes and pushed hard against Russ's shoulder.
Lake-blue eyes under a sea of copper hair scanned the room with efficiency, ignoring what no doubt was typical fare for a woman built as she was. "You're a man short, Agent Sager."
Isaiah arched a brow. "Yes. S.A. Justin Hensley the Third's on his way."
"Good. We'll get started as soon as he gets here."
"Why not just start and fill him in?" Mark pushed at the email hard copy on the table in front of him. "Seems to me you could at least tell us what this Senator Mastin's done to tweak your radar."
"I prefer to wait for S.A. Hensley. I don't want to repeat it all, and besides, I really can't do anything without him."
"Without Justin?" Mark looked up at her for the first time, eyes zeroing in on that impressive bustline before they darted away. "Ah, I'm sure we can catch Justin up later."
"Catch me up on what?" Justin breezed into the room fresh from his latest bust, that little glint of satisfaction in his eye Isaiah knew so well. Tall and Aryan-blond, Justin oozed breeding and arrogance in equal measure from every aristocratic pore. "What did I miss?" Isaiah swore he could smell the hallowed and musty halls of Harvard each time Justin spoke.
"Nothing, if I know you." Rachel Coleman's voice dropped about an octave and Isaiah felt the rumble in it through the soles of his feet. Certain very non-business-oriented parts of his anatomy felt it as well, making him very glad he'd seated himself after greeting the woman.
"Hello, Trey. Tell me you still have that leather tuxedo." Rachel's smile matched the sexual intensity increasing with each syllable.
"Did you just call him Trey?" Ashley's normally wide, little-girl-innocent eyes narrowed in confusion.
Vicky's eyes shot wide and landed on Justin in a quick up-down glance. "Leather? Justin and leather?"
The subject of their surprise didn't react in any way. Justin's attention focused firmly on their visitor. "Rack?" Full lips parted and clear blue eyes stared for a moment before he swept their visitor up in a bear-hug. The tips of her shoes left the ground for a brief moment as he pulled her tight to his lean form. "Rack!"
"Hello, darling. Wanna help me rid the Free World of scum yet again?" Rachel beamed up at him, face softer than it had been an instant before. Warmth radiated from her, setting an answering glow in Justin's often forbidding countenance.
Isaiah blinked. Justin Hensley the Third might be known for a lot of things—arrogance, egotism, and emotional distance from everyone around him chief among them. Justin didn't hug and he never looked at anyone with that sort of openness. Isaiah watched Mark pull his jaw up off the table and felt the need to push his own chin closed.
"Wait. You know him already? And... leather?" Mark repeated Vicky's point of confusion.
Agent Coleman didn't turn her attention to Mark though she answered him. "Trey and I go way back." She straightened Justin's tie. "Please tell me you still have that tux. I really need you to pull it out of mothballs." She stepped back and gave him as quick but thorough a once-over as Isaiah had ever seen. He could almost see mental fingers running over the other man's body. "I can tell it would still fit." Sex still oozed with every word.
"Still a silver tongue, I see." Justin lit up at the mock-glare she gave him. "Not that you're mistaken. I never gain an ounce. I still have the tux and it fits perfectly." Justin released her body but she didn't step away, remaining in his possession. "So, you've come looking for my talents. What's up, anyway?"
"Senator Deborah Mastin has a fondness for pillow talk and pretty blond boys who can dance." Rack's hands settled on Justin's hips. "So I came looking for the prettiest blond I know." She grinned, wicked and a tad wanton, and Isaiah gained a sudden belief in all the stories about five-hundred-dollar bills tucked into her G-string. "It'll sure help that no one dances better than you."