Taken With Trouble (CAUGHT IN CHAOS #2)

1. Prologue

Prologue

Serena

Location: a karaoke bar

I need a win. My life has been a series of failures; one after another. Will I ever admit such words out loud? No. Only in the quiet confines of the vault in my mind would I ever admit that truth, which is why I need to be the one to bring Liam Hawthorne in. No other agent or team. Me.

But the man knows what he’s doing. My partner, Agent Harris, and I haven’t caught him with a hair out of place—literally or metaphorically. It opposes my nature to admit Liam Hawthorne is one of the most attractive men I have ever laid eyes on, but that won’t stop me from hauling his butt into federal prison. The guy is a renowned art thief and potential murderer, and he needs to answer for his crimes.

I flash my badge at the bouncer guarding the stairs leading to the private rooms. His eyes widen a touch before he nods and shuffles his massive body to the side, allowing me to head up.

A couple bumps into me on their way down the stairs, inebriated with booze and their obvious attraction to one another.

I’ve never understood why people drink and allow their senses to dull. That’s when they become weak, subject to being taken advantage of. I must remain in control of my faculties. Always. The second I drop my guard, my whole life will go up in flames.

I pass the room the bartender gave me and glance through the cracked door. It’s too dark to confirm if Liam is inside.

I’m supposed to keep my distance. We don’t want to tip him off the FBI is following him, which is why I’m wearing a stupid black dress Caleb convinced me was less conspicuous than my typical pantsuit. Supposedly, it’s more bar appropriate.

I couldn’t care less and currently hate it and him. I can’t run in a tight dress and heels. And in my line of work, I need to be able to run and fight at all times.

“I’ve been made,” Caleb says, his gruff voice muffling from the communication device in my ear.

“By who?”

“The woman.”

I frown at the flashing lights and pulsating bar. We aren’t following a woman.

“Amelia,” he says again.

It hits me—the woman he kissed last week so he could get rid of her. My partner was stupid enough to kiss someone while on the job.

“Seriously?” I groan. The last thing we need is that woman messing things up again. “What are you doing? Throwing out some kind of mating signal?”

He grunts. “Not funny.”

I find it hilarious.

“Did you get anything from the bartender?” he asks.

I fill him in on the situation, but he falls silent and I hear the woman’s voice again. She’s making fun of him for trying to blend in with a red jacket.

“Oh ho ho,” I hoot. “Rookie mistake.”

But Caleb’s attention is solely on her. I should save him. That’s what partners are for—to save each other in sickness and health, from crazy people, and rogue bullets. Or something along those lines.

This is a dead end, anyway. Liam isn’t here. I walk past the door at the same time it opens fully…right into my forehead .

Pain smashes through my skull, and I stagger backward, hand gripping my head while the lights seem to grow brighter.

“Oh no,” someone says. “I didn’t see you. Are you all right?”

My shoulders tense. That deep, charming, yet playful voice can only be one man.

Liam Hawthorne.

I swallow, keeping my gaze on the ground, hoping he won’t recognize me as the waitress from the restaurant the other night.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, brushing past him. But he snatches my wrist from my face and spins me around, easing me against the door in one swift movement.

My heart jumps into my throat as my gaze lands on his bright blue eyes. How many times have I dreamed of Supervisory Agent in Control (S-A-C for short), Gavin Ford doing something like this to me? Hiding with me in the armory, kissing me next to a practice dummy… I know, my fantasies are weird, but they’re mine.

Why is it I only attract the attention of terrible men?

“You’ve got a rather large goose egg,” Liam says in his annoyingly suave British accent. His thumb slides over my forehead, and warning bells scream in my mind as he blazes a trail over my skin, marking me like I’m little Simba about to be sacrificed. No wait, that was to announce his birth.

“I’m great. Thank you for checking on me, though.” I add a false flirtation to my voice. I have to leave.

His gaze roams over my face, unnerving me. “I can see that. A woman like you has everything under control, don’t you?” He says it like it’s a bad thing.

It’s totally not. At all.

I scoff. “Of course not.”

His brows flick up. “You often do impulsive things?”

Well… no. Never. “Y-yes.”

His fingers trail down my face, brushing the edge of my eyebrow, my temple, over my cheekbone, and to my lip –

I gasp. What is he doing to me? And why am I powerless to stop it? I blame my seven-year dating hiatus for the way my heart accelerates and my eyes fight to stay open. Have I ever been touched like this? Caressed like this?

His thumb skims my bottom lip, and my mouth goes dry. “Are you feeling reckless, beautiful?”

I murmur something. Something that was supposed to sound like get away from me but came out more like consent. The next thing I know, his lips are on mine. The barest of touches.

His lips.

Mine.

Heat pooling in my stomach.

Heart rate severely high.

I can’t catalog and dissect all the information flooding my system. It’s wrong— so wrong. But it feels… it feels like pure energy, euphoria, so much I fear I’m going to implode. He wraps his hands around the base of my head, angling his lips over mine, and my lips part of their own volition, inviting him for more. And oh does he take it, pressing in closer until our bodies are connected. Warmth floods my stomach, swooping and swirling like I’ve never been kissed before.

Well, I haven’t been kissed… not in seven years. I’m fisting his button-down shirt, my fingers tangled in the expensive fabric, and I’m not sure how they got there. His hands slide down my sides and lock onto my waist, where he tightens his hold on me. He nips at my bottom lip, hard enough to make me gasp.

He drags his lips away from mine, only to return and press a featherlight kiss to my bottom lip again, as if kissing it better.

His hands fall from my sides and he pulls back, taking a large step away. His eyes are darker than they were moments ago, and he shoots me a satisfied smirk. “Thanks for being reckless with me. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

He turns and disappears from the balcony, leaving me stunned in a cloud of his spicy cologne.

I can’t breathe, and my lips burn like he branded them. My skin tingles where he held me .

What just happened? I blink rapidly, trying to yank all the pieces of my brain together, but it’s a muddled mess up there.

Why did Liam kiss me?

He knew I was following him. He was trying to throw me off my game.

And it freaking worked.

How dare he!

Irritation settles in my veins as I race to the balcony overlooking the bar below, searching for his gray suit and brown hair. Where did he go?

I catch sight of a brown-haired man, nearing an exit.

I don’t think before rushing after the figure.

“Hawthorne left out the back. We gotta go,” I bark into my comms.

I just royally screwed up.