Washington D.C.

Svetlana Simonov, agent for Omega Force now for ten years, hadn’t expected to get called in by the man who assigned her the missions she went on. But then most of the things that happened to her during the last ten years were things that she hadn’t anticipated.

A meeting in a hotel’s saloon? In the middle of the afternoon?

In the past, whenever she and he got together, it was always in a private hotel room at some luxury establishment in one of the more fashionable cities of the world. A place where they could be alone so that her controller, a man who called himself Jefferson Burke, though Svetlana knew that only the “Burke” part was actually his real name, could speak to her privately. He could question her about her last mission, and give her instructions regarding her next mission.

But there was always something more than just what he had to tell her, and for that something more they needed privacy, and generally, several hours of uninterrupted together-time. That was when Burke would dispense his considerable sensual skills, which invariably would cause four or more climaxes to explode through Svetlana’s senses with the effect of a hand grenade going off inside an aluminum mailbox.

This time there’s got to be something truly, desperately wrong. Otherwise he wouldn’t have changed our routine.

A shiver went through her as she walked down the sidewalk, her stiletto heels clicking against the concrete, her eyes open but hardly seeing either the sidewalk or the people around her. All thoughts were on Burke and his mysterious and unexpected request that she meet him in the Montgomery Hotel saloon promptly at three o’clock.

Omega Force is being disbanded. That’s got to be it. What will I do without Omega Force?

She’d been with the mysterious organization since she was eighteen, when they plucked her out of boot camp and turned her into an assassin. She couldn’t imagine a life when she wasn’t in Omega Force.

It was in Omega Force that Burke had taught her how to kill and taught her how to make love.

He’d taught her everything she had needed to know about doing those two things. When she considered it now, he’d taught her everything she knew that was of any importance.

And then he’d taught her more. He taught her that, in her heart of hearts, she was a submissive and, like a true soulmate, he was her Dominant. She had learned from him that with her hands tied behind her back with his silk necktie, she could feel simultaneously powerless and yet like the most emancipated woman in the world. There was something particularly powerful about the climaxes he gave her when she was in bondage.

As she walked, something caught her attention, freeing her from her reverie, which she welcomed. Svetlana stopped walking abruptly and looked up, blinking her eyes several times to orient herself once again to her physical surroundings.

The hotel, which was the source of her destination, was just twenty yards ahead of her, and to her right. Svetlana told herself that she shouldn’t let her mind wander so, that to allow such intellectual meanderings was to put herself in jeopardy. It was foolish to not be aware of her surroundings. She had enemies who might at that moment be plotting to put a bullet to the back of her head, delivered without a word of warning.

Svetlana shrugged this off.

She wasn’t in danger, because the only man in the world who knew what she really did was waiting for her in the hotel’s saloon, and if he wanted to kill her, there wasn’t anything she could do to stop him. He knew too much about her, and she knew almost nothing about him.

As she approached the saloon’s front door, she checked her appearance in the window. She had chosen to wear a casual blue dress that belted at the waist and showed only a modest amount of cleavage or thigh. There were times when being sartorially daring was appropriate, but she didn’t think this was one of them.

She wasn’t wearing a garter belt or stockings, and she second guessed herself now because she hadn’t. Burke always liked seeing her in nice lingerie, she knew. He had told her as much, and she liked to please him whenever possible.

At least I put on pretty pink panties and bra. He’ll like seeing me in those.

It was some consolation, but not a lot. Svetlana promised herself that the next time she got a call from Burke to meet, she’d be wearing the full ensemble of matching garter belt, silk stockings, bikini panties, and brassiere. All the lovely, feminine lingerie that Burke liked to see her in—right before he ripped most of them off her body, then ravished her like a truly Dominant madman until she had climaxed three or four times. Sometimes, when Burke was at his absolute Dom best and they hadn’t been together in quite a while, she climaxed six or seven times during their feverish rather sweaty hours-long encounter.

Remembering those times made Svetlana shiver. She pushed those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time for reminiscing.

She looked at her wristwatch, the gold one with sparkling diamonds to indicate the hours. It was one minute to three o’clock. Burke always insisted that she be extraordinarily punctual, practically down to the second. If ever she wasn’t, he would generally punish her by putting her over his knee, pulling her dress up and her panties down, and delivering a severe spanking that turned the pale cheeks of her bottom bring pink, and sometimes very close to red. And that was only the beginning of the punishment. There was always so much more than that.