Code Name: Red Rock Read online

  Praise for Code Name: Red Rock…

  The riveting short story prequel to The Red Rock Series Taylor Lee’s hot new romantic suspense series. Code Name: Red Rock sets the tone for the action and fiery romance to come.

  PLUS: Sneak Peek, First Chapter of Book 1- Red Rock Rises

  — A fiery Special Operative agent, as tough as she is beautiful,

  — Fiercely independent, she is their Rock. Few see the vulnerable woman beneath

  — When her commanding officer attacks her, she does the only thing she can

  “Major Jesse O’Donnell has won every commendation possible. A crack undercover agent, she’s accustomed to beating off the amorous advances of unscrupulous men. Until she runs into her commanding officer.”

  ~ Action Junkie

  The Army is her life. She loves it as almost as much as she does her young son. An ugly incident forces her to choose. Fight for principle or fight for her son.

  ~ JMM Reviews

  Her unit named her. The fiery redheaded special operative is their rock. Red Rock never lets them down. She is front and center on every mission. She never backs off from a fight. But when she is caught in untenable circumstances, fighting may be the last thing she should do. Tell that to Red Rock.

  ~ Karma Queen Reviews

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  Afterword

  Other Works by Taylor Lee

  Works by Other Authors

  About the Author

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  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  “Who’s there? Get the hell away from the desk and be quick about it. That is, if you want to live to see the dawn!”

  At the sound of a too-familiar click, Major Jesse O’Donnell sucked in a deep breath and slid her hand holding the miniature screw driver into her jacket pocket next to her Walther.

  She stammered, “It’s just me, Franklin. Millie… Millie Roane.” Nervously licking her lips, she swallowed hard. “I… I’m working late.”

  Franklin’s heavy brows furrowed then the glare of his flashlight blinded her.

  Jesse shielded her eyes with one hand but kept the other within reach of her Walther PP3.

  The dark-skinned heavy-set guard’s brows drew together in a thick line. His small beady eyes squinted in disbelief.

  “Does Mr. Walker know you’re here, girl?”

  Jesse tucked the stray ends of her frizzy hair behind her ears. She bit her bottom lip and gave him a shaky smile.

  “Yes, yes, sir. He… he said I had to stay until I finished my work.”

  She spoke in a rush. “I… I’m almost done. I’m sorry. I should have tried to work faster.”

  Franklin bore a stark resemblance to the pot-bellied iron stoves that bore his name. “No girl, what you should have done was made sure that Miss Ambrose put you on the late list. I don’t like surprises.”

  He gave her a twisted grin devoid of humor, and pointed his gun in her face.

  “And the people who surprise me don’t much like it, either.”

  Jesse gasped. She clamped her empty hand over her mouth and swayed, then reached for the desk to steady herself. Her frightened little rabbit act must have convinced the bored guard that she wasn’t dangerous or interesting enough to bother further.

  His voice was gruff.

  “Don’t forget to sign out at the front desk, you hear, girl?” He mused, “I don’t know when I saw Mr. Walker let a girl like you in his private office.” He gave her a salacious grin. “At least, none that looks like you.”

  At the doorway, he perused her body and said with a sneer, “No girl, you most definitely ain’t the kind of girl Mr. Walker usually has working late.”

  His ugly guffaw echoed down the empty hallway. Jesse waited until she was sure he’d turned the corner then locked the office door.

  She took one calming breath, then another and shook her head. That was closer than it should have been. Franklin was fifteen minutes ahead of his customary schedule. Good thing she was quick. She spoke into her com. “Hang in, Whiplash, give me three minutes and I’ll be done.”

  Checking once more to ensure that the recording device she’d planted in the base of the desk was secure, she walked by the file cabinets with a jaunty wave.

  Minutes later she leaned against the elevator wall watching the floor indicator lights flash by. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrored walls, Jesse stifled a grin. The reflection in the mirrored panels proved that being ordinary was the best disguise. It was even better if you were ugly to boot. Taking in her frizzy dank hair, thick-lensed, black-rimmed glasses and splotchy skin, she was gratified to note that she’d gone the extra step from plain to homely. Add in the shapeless blazer jacket, buttoned up shirt, calf length plaid skirt and heavy scuffed loafers, Jesse contented herself knowing that second looks would be few and far between. In confirmation, the guard at the lobby desk grunted and barely looked up when she said good night.

  When she was sure she’d cleared the front of the office building, one of the dozens in Trafalgar Square, she retrieved her earring from her pocket and fastened it on her earlobe. She allowed herself a silent congratulatory slap on the back knowing that the cheap bauble was in fact a high powered camera that now held documentation that three crack MI 5 teams had been unable to secure.

  “Red Rock calling Storm Cloud…”

  “Storm Cloud here. Damn, Jess. That was close. Are you okay? I barely got the transmission back up before Franklin waltzed in. The one thing the assholes would’ve noticed was an empty room when Franklin should have been making his rounds.”

  Jesse laughed. It was easy to do now that she was out in the Square among the thousands of tourists. Even at 2 a.m. eager revelers filled the streets going from pub to pub. Jesse was struck again at the uncanny genius of their target miscreants. Who would believe that two stories in an unprepossessing office building in the heart of London’s most famous tourist center housed an international gang of criminals preparing to sell stolen weapons to some of the most dangerous terrorist organizations on the planet?

  “You’re right, Rory. It was close. I was just securing the mic when Franklin walked in. Fortunately he was more interested in the fact that an ugly babe was working late than in what I was doing. But I got pictures of all the files, and Rory, when we finish tomorrow night we are going to take down the most evil enterprise I’ve seen in many a moon. I only had time to skim the reports but if the details are as damning as the summary, we are talking about multi millions of dollars of black market weapon systems including everything from RPG’S to AK47’s.”

  “Phew, that’s gonna be some party tomorrow night. Wish I could be on the inside. But watching you even from a surveillance truck is a treat. You’re a pro, hot cheeks, one of the best in the business. And this operation is going to earn you yet another commendation. I can understand why the Colonel wanted to be a part of it. If it’s as big as you say, it’s no wonder our fearless ass-kissing leader wants to be front and center.”

  Jesse grunted in agreement. In two years of working with this undercover team it was the first time that their ‘leader’ had put himself in the fray. Which to Jesse confirmed that the higher-ups must be watching. Rory was right. Their leader hadn’t gotten to where he was by being modest. If accolades were given, he would be front and center. When things got sticky as they often did, the Colonel was AWOL.

  The Colonel should know the rules of the game. Once they completed the mission it would be as though it never happened. It was never on the books. The team members, like Jesse, understood that the accolades were given, just not publicly. Like every other mission she’d been a part of for the last 10 years, the higher-ups wou
ld deny it had happened with their dying breath.

  ~~~

  The light on her desk phone blinked. Jesse stammered into the receiver, “Yes, yes, Sir. Can I help you?”

  Mason Walker’s brusque voice filled the room.

  “Please come in here immediately.”

  Jesse walked cautiously into the inner office and hovered uncertainly in the doorway. Speaking to the large dark-haired man behind the desk, she squeaked, “Did… did you need something, Sir?”

  He waved an impatient hand.

  “Yes, Miss. I need something or I wouldn’t have called for you.” He turned to the urbane gentleman sitting across from him. “Believe it or not, Stanley, this unassuming young woman is one of the most efficient secretaries we’ve had since we opened our London office. She’s only been here for little more than a week but she’s worked her way through three people’s work.” He snorted. “Even Miss Ambrose, my personal dragon at the door, finds her work acceptable.”

  Walker threw his guest a knowing smile and muttered as though Jesse couldn’t hear, “Wonder if it has something to do with her looks?”

  The slender man tweaked the crease in his tailored trousers and quirked a brow.

  “Yes, Walker. We all know Miss Ambrose’s reputation. Am I correct that she attempts to protect you from temptations as well as annoyances?”

  Walker laughed. “That she does. And this young lady is a good example of Miss Ambrose’s diligence.”

  Turning to Jesse, he frowned. “Miss… what’s your name again?”

  Jesse lowered her eyes shyly. “Millie. Millie Roane, Sir.”

  “Right, of course.” Walker gestured to the sandy-haired man sitting across from him. “Millie, this is an American colleague of mine. Stanley Hughes came in from New York to attend an important meeting tonight.”

  He studied her for a moment and then persisted. “Mr. Hughes thinks it is critical that we document tonight’s discussion. I tend to agree. Given the thieving bastards we’re meeting with, it will be good to have a record that they can’t deny.”

  Walker’s frown deepened as he regarded Jesse and then gave a dismissing shrug.

  “Hell, I’ve always believed that Miss Ambrose can do anything. We’ll put her to the test.”

  He punched the speaker on his desk and bellowed, “Shirley, come in if you will please.”

  The tall thin woman who appeared in the doorway looked as though lemons were her only nourishment. Her face lacked even the semblance of smile lines around her eyes and mouth. In contrast her frown looked as though it were set in stone. Her gray-streaked hair was caught in an unyielding bun at the nape of her neck. Not a strand dared to escape. Her impeccable attire contrasted sharply with Jesse’s shambled appearance.

  “Yes, sir. What do you need?”

  Walker smirked. “Shirley, I need your best. We agree that Miss… whatever her name is… needs to come to the meeting tonight and be our scribe.”

  At his assistant’s shocked gasp, Walker waved a dismissive hand.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find a corner to tuck her in. But she has to be presentable. Order up an ensemble that will help her fit in. And bugger the price. We need her to look as though she belongs with us.”

  Several hours later, Miss Ambrose called Jesse into her office

  Hanging on a hook on the back of the door was a garment bag marked auspiciously with the elite Harrods insignia. A large shopping bag with the same logo stood on the floor.

  Miss Ambrose’s lip curved slightly in what Jesse presumed was as close to an approximation of a smile as she would get.

  With a prim nod, the unpleasant crow gestured to the clothing bags.

  “At least you will wear the kind of clothes he prefers,” she sniffed. “He does have a ‘type.’ Be sure and use the makeup that is in the small bag. And for God’s sake, do something with your hair.”

  Jesse picked up the large shopping bag and reached for the garment bag. She turned her back knowing that her disdainful expression could give her away.

  “Thank you so much, Miss Ambrose. I appreciate your help more than you can imagine.”

  The martinet stared at her through narrowed eyes as if measuring her.

  “I presume you know your correct clothing sizes or you will look even more ridiculous in these expensive clothes than you do now. Just be sure that you look presentable and that you stay quietly in the corner. Remember, you are there as a secretary, essentially a servant. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jesse hesitated. “Where… where am I supposed to change? To get dressed?”

  The haughty despot almost gave herself away with what could have passed for a genuine smile if it weren’t for the malice in her eyes.

  “You can use Mr. Walker's dressing room. It is well equipped with everything you could possibly need.” She spat the words. “Mr. Walker designed it himself.”

  Carrying her treasures, Jesse went into the dressing room through a private entrance. She was careful to keep her expression impassive. She’d learned the first day she infiltrated the operation, that not only was her new ‘boss’ a traitor to his country, he was a freak. His perverted proclivities became a central part of her team’s planning. Along with more mirrors than Jesse had ever seen, Walker had appointed his dressing room with innumerable hidden cameras. Knowing that everything she did in the next hour would become part of the slimy voyeur’s private collection, Jesse determined that she would put on a show the despicable man was unlikely to forget.

  Chapter 2

  Jesse supposed she should be grateful that at least the lighting was tasteful. The soft sensual lights made the pornographic drawings and photographs decorating the dressing room less noticeable—at least at first. She gave a momentary shudder wondering if any shots of her would make it to these walls of infamy. Her distaste lifted for a moment and she almost giggled at the sight of the phallic looking faucet handles on the double vanity sink. She couldn’t resist punching the erect nipple on an extravagantly sized breast to confirm that it was indeed a soap dispenser. For a moment, Jesse speculated that maybe the asshole had a sense of humor; but looking around she decided there was nothing funny about the room or the show she was about to put on.

  Carefully hanging the garment bag close to the shower, she began a visible inventory of the items in the Harrods shopping bag. She pulled out a lacy black strapless bra that looked as though it might contain a quarter of her bodacious breasts. She held up a stray scrap of satin that on second glance was in fact a thong. The black silk lace topped thigh high stockings were to be expected. She decided she’d save the shoes for later. Her reflection in the multiple mirrors captured her surprised expression and what she hoped looked like nervousness to her clandestine audience.

  Twisting her dank pony tail up on top of her head with a clip, she prepared to step into the shower. Continually glancing in the mirror as if she were afraid to look at herself as she undressed, she removed the ugly jacket. She took a visible breath and then unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off. A utilitarian brassiere without a snippet of lace covered her breasts. Bending over she stepped out of her stodgy loafers and removed her knee-high woolen socks. With a quick glance in the mirrors, she shut her eyes and dropped her heavy plaid skirt to the floor. She walked briskly toward the shower as though she could hide in there. With her back to the room, Jesse unhooked her bra and let it slide to the floor. Thinking ahead she draped a towel over the shower door. Knowing that she was transforming herself before the voyeur’s eyes, she hesitated then stripped off her granny panties and slipped into the shower slamming the clear glass door behind herself.

  Turning the water on high, she blessed the steam that quickly and thickly shrouded the glass. When she’d sequestered herself a significant amount of time to pique his interest, she turned off the water and reached for the towel. Securing it around her from the top of her breasts to the top of thighs, she made sure that Mason Walker had a glimp
se of rosy, damp flesh beneath the terry cloth covering.

  Taking a deep breath, she strode to the dressing table and began rummaging in the small packages in the Harrods bag. On her way into the dressing room she’d added a bag of her own that contained the tricks of her trade. Finding a glistening cream that she’d hidden among her tools, she rubbed it into her frizzy black hair and brushed it until it glistened and hung in a shiny curtain around her shoulders. Just minutes later, she’d made use of the numerous containers of makeup and allowed the beginnings of a stunning woman to emerge.

  Turning to the pile of underwear she’d laid on the vanity top, Jesse grabbed for the bra. She unhooked the towel revealing a momentary glimpse of bare skin, then fastened the shelf bra around her breasts. Once again she peered in the mirror, her eyes widening in false amazement. Even though she’d seen herself many times before in risqué underwear, she had to admit that Miss Ambrose had excellent taste. Smothering her laugh with a cough she wondered what the haughty bitch wore under her designer clothes. From the concave look of her chest, it was likely an undershirt or a training bra.

  Jesse held up the thong and gazed at it from different angles as if it were a puzzle she needed to solve. With a sigh she slipped it on and pulled silky strings over her hips as she stood. Looking over her shoulder at her bare bottom she tugged on the satin cord securing it in the crack between her perfectly curvy cheeks.

  She glanced appraisingly at her reflection and then smiled as if surprised and delighted by what she saw. Placing her foot on a high stool ensuring that her inner thighs were visible, she eased a lace topped silk stocking over her long toned leg. She repeated the sexy act with the other leg then reached in the shoe box for the coup de grace. She was delighted to see black satin high-heeled stilettoes and again congratulated the stern Miss Ambrose for her surprisingly erotic instincts. For one quick moment Jesse wondered if the bitch also viewed the bathroom videotapes. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat knowing that of course she did.

  Slipping on the sexy shoes, she rose to her full height and took in what was sure to be at least for Hustler aficionados the impetus for a series of wet, wetter, and wettest dreams. She was tall and slender which made her D cup breasts all the more surprising. Curvy hips, long toned showgirl legs and a firm butt confirmed why Jesse had spent her adult life beating back the excessive overtures of excited men.