A/N: Hey everyone who's reading, thanks a lot! I hope you all are liking my
story and your feedback is greatly appreciated. The more reviews I get, the
more I want to write...well that and I have all this time since I'm off
from school for reading week. I know this chapter isn't the best but I had
a bit of writer's block so I hope its ok....thanks!
Anna pulled into the driveway, her mind racing as she climbed out of the car and into the house. "Hey," Sydney greeted her, obviously about to go for a run.
"Hi....is Francie here?" Anna asked, her voice rushed.
Sydney scanned Anna's flushed face questioningly. "No...she had problems at the restaurant. Why, what's up?"
Anna threw her bag on the couch, running her hands through her hair. "No one consulted me that Sark was moved."
Sydney shrugged. "Well, I mean....you....we're just agents. We don't really get informed of high-level decisions 100% of the time."
"Right. But you knew. Your dad and Dixon knew. Why wasn't I told?" Anna interrogated, not buying Sydney's simple response.
Sydney sighed and sat down on the couch, indicating Anna to join her. "Listen, after his good work in Zurich, as well as all the other missions, Kendall agreed to let him live outside of Langley--"
Anna's eyes flashed. "I may have only known Kendall for a few months, but I've been around long enough to know that he would NEVER agree to that."
Sydney nodded in agreement. "And you're right, he didn't. But Sark said that unless he was moved from his cell he wouldn't be part of the mission to rescue you in Zurich. And he also threatened to stop cooperating, so Kendall gave in. So he's been moved to a safe-house where he is being watched 24/7, basically living under the illusion of freedom."
"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. Why is Kendall letting his guard down? We still don't know what Sark is up to. Trusting him....that's a mistake," Anna replied furiously, shocked at what Sydney had said.
Sydney held up her hands as a peace gesture. "Hey, hey, I'm with you. He should not be trusted under any circumstances.....but Kendall only sees that Sark has done good work and...Kendall seems to think that you trust him."
"I don't trust him."
Sydney closed her eyes, looking conflicted and Anna waited for what was next. "Syd, what is it?"
"Anna, there's something else. There's been a question of your professionality in dealing with Sark--"
"My what?" Anna's face grew more flushed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"It just....sometimes, it looks like you're getting too close to him.....like you're friends....or you care about him," Sydney replied slowly, fearing her friend's reaction.
"What, like you and Vaughn? You are a fine example of getting too close!" Anna retorted.
"That's different! How can you even compare the two situations? Vaughn wasn't working under Sloane. He never tried to kill me! There's the difference, Anna!"
Anna threw up her hands in defeat. "I don't understand this! I didn't even want to deal with Sark in the first place....and now that we're finally getting somewhere thanks to his information, I'm getting ripped apart for....for nothing! There is nothing going on. I don't like him...I don't even trust him. But I accomodate him and I do and say what I need to get him to talk. You're the one who told me to use him for everything he had!" she exclaimed bitterly.
"I know! I know! But I also know that Sark....it's what he does--he's very suave, persuasive. He could be manipulating you."
"You don't think I know that? I'm not a second-rate agent, Syd. We trained together! So don't you even doubt me, not for one second. I know what I'm doing!" Anna stalked out the living room, and Sydney cringed as Anna's bedroom door slammed shut.
Anna paced her room, her mind overwhelmed with what had been said during her talk with Sydney. It's not true, she thought, I am not getting too close to him. She chewed her lower lip as Sydney's voice rang through her head and a part of her realized that maybe what Sydney was saying was right.
Since he had saved her life twice, she'd let her guard down. It wasn't deliberate, it had just happened. Anna could feel herself giving way, her distrust and hate of Sark was slowly eroding into something else. Something that she didn't and couldn't confront. It wasn't like she loved him or anything. Hell, she still didn't even really like him. But Anna couldn't deny that there was still some sort of energy, a sexual attraction, between them. The banter. The insults. It all added up to chemistry.
But it wasn't like Anna would ever act on that; she was too professional and she hadn't forgotten who Julian Sark was, a thief, a murderer....an enemy. But Anna knew what she had to do and nothing was going to stand in her way.
**************
Anna walked through the hallway, past the kitchen and living room, not pausing to take a look at the incredible view of the ocean. She kept walking briskly, into the master bedroom, without knocking, where Sark was half-dressed, obviously fresh from a shower.
He looked up at, no trace of surprise in his eyes. "The CIA doesn't have to knock, apparently."
"It's bad enough they've given you this much lee-way. Expect none from me," Anna answered, her voice like ice.
Sark's eyebrows shot up. "Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"
"Where I wake up is not your concern." She opened her briefcase, handing him two crisp pieces of paper. "We leave in an hour."
He held up two button down shirts, one black and one deep blue. "Which one says 'I'm not with the CIA'?"
Anna pursed her lips, her reply cold, "Well, I prefer the black. Wear the blue." With that, she headed out the door.
Sark hovered at the doorway, watching her leave his new home. "It's all my privilege," he said sarcastically to himself.
He headed back into the bathroom, glancing at his reflection in the mirror and trying to sort out Anna's bizarre behaviour. Last time Sark had seen her, she'd been fine; well whatever fine was was anyone's game....but her manner had been pleasant and almost friendly. Now she was acting distant and cold and he couldn't figure out why.
He shook his head, realizing that he needed to focus his efforts on this next operation. Sark had set up a meeting with one of the heads of the Covenant, as that organization did not know that he was in CIA custody. Presumably, only Alison Doren and Sloane knew that he had been captured by the CIA and Sark was hoping that Covenant had remained uninformed because if they were aware that his loyalties had switched, they wouldn't hesitate to blow his head off.
Sark and Anna were going to France for two things. First, the CIA hoped to gain insight and information on the Covenant through Sark's meeting. Then, Anna was assigned to getting the fingerprints of the man with whom Sark was meeting, so that they'd be able to unlock some sort of system at a later date. How she was going to do that without being obvious and getting them both killed, Sark had no idea. And he hated not being in control.
**************
Sark glanced at Anna from the corner of his eye, watching her scan the mission file quickly. Her eyes lifted and caught his accusingly. "What?" she demanded.
"Nothing....but I know that this bar is informal, but don't you think that's pushing it?" Sark suggested, motioning at Anna's plain long-sleeve shirt, sports pants and hair piled under a paper-boy cap.
"Since when are you the fashion police," she commented, tossing the file at him "Review it."
Sark threw a fake grin her way. "Thanks, boss, but I already did that. Seriously, what is wrong with you?"
Anna ignored his question and continued to make sure they had everything they needed before entering the club.
Sark moved to stand in front of Anna, so that she would have to acknowledge him. "These fingerprints; I was thinking that once my meeting is finished, I could restrain the man, and you can grab him for the prints."
"No, I've got it covered," Anna said simply, offering no further explanation.
But he didn't stop. "Ok, listen, if we're going to be working together, you must—"
She spun around and her forceful eyes froze his words. "First of all, we don't work together." Anna walked towards him, forcing him to move back against the wall. "You work for me."
Sark tilted his head, smiling playfully, knowing perfectly well that Anna was not in the mood for bantering. But he did it anyway. "I like forceful, but you're coming on a bit too strong, Anna."
"Cut the crap. Let's do this." She stopped, pressing her body against his, her lips close to his ear. "And if you think about screwing me over, don't. Because I have no qualms about making you pay," she whispered, her voice tinged with allure. Anna backed away from him, getting ready to leave the room and start the mission. Anna pulled off her long-sleeve shirt and tore off her snap pants hurriedly, exposing a short, sky-blue dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She also got rid of her hat, her lustrous hair cascading down her back. Sark watched her, enticed by her movements.
"Could you?" her soft voice interrupted his thoughts and Sark saw that she was holding out a necklace expectantly. She piled her long hair to one side, the back of her neck nakedly exposed to his touch.
Sark's hands seemed to shake slightly as he clasped together the silvery necklace around her smooth neck. Her sent wafted around him; a mixture of vanilla and strawberries and for a moment he completely forgot where he was, thinking he was just in the presence of a beautiful woman, not with a hardened agent of the CIA. Sark tried to shake those thoughts mentally, remembering that this was a woman who wanted nothing more than to see him dead, or at least that's how she had been acting for the past week.
Sark left the room first, entering the club coolly, and headed to the bar for a drink. He had 15 minutes before his meeting with the mystery leader of the Covenant. Sark kept his eyes focused on the doorway, waiting for Anna's entrance and she didn't disappoint. She entered and walked through the club as an entirely different person, looking free-spirited, fun, and mysterious. Men turned from their own dates and looked up as she strode past, giving her an inviting look. Sark felt something in his chest constrict and he downed his drink, his eyes not leaving Anna for a second. Sark jumped anxiously off the bar stool when he saw a man pull Anna onto the dance floor, expecting to see Anna shrug him off. But she didn't. What she did do was pull the man close and intertwine their bodies sensually. As she danced, the man's hand firmly implanted on her waist from behind, Sark swore she directed a glance right at him. He finished his second drink, rubbing his hands over his face and avoiding looking at Anna. What she did was her business.
Sark headed into one of the swanky back rooms of the clubs and was welcomed by a brusque Spanish man by the name of Pedro Llamas.
"You must be Mr. Sark," Llamas inferred, his voice thick with an accent.
"Yes....and you are the head of the Covenant, I presume?" Sark settled in a chair across from Llamas, his hands folded together.
Llamas' laugh was low and harsh. "Ah, no, a man can only dream. Unfortunately for both you and me, I'm just the man behind the man."
Sark hid his confusion. "I was supposed to meeting with the head of the Covenant," he said calmly.
Llamas lit a cigarette, offering the package to Sark, who politely declined. "Good choice. These things can be addictive. Like women, huh?" Llamas laughed again, obviously in no hurry to get down to business.
Sark leaned forward, growing frustrated. "Listen, I'm interested in learning more about the Covenant's organization, to see if it might be something....that could ascertain...my own interests. First off, I'd like to know who you work for; who is at the forefront of your organization."
Llamas grinned, his teeth slightly yellowed from tobacco use. "Eager, are we? Tell me first, who is it that you work for? You're a bit young to be into all of this, are you not?"
Sark remained unflinching and unresponsive. "My interest, intelligence, and abilities make my age a meaningless consideration. As for whom I am employed by....I'm in charge of myself, you see!" He lied effortlessly, feeling comforted by the fact that the the ability to lie had not been lost to him.
Llamas smiled coldly. "You're an arrogant one. But still, you interest me. I will tell you about the Covenant....as we can always use fresh....blood, shall we say!"
Sark arched his eyebrows, all his energy focused on being attentive. Llamas moved forward, exhaling loudly. "The Organization is one that seeks to dethrone the CIA...naturally, an interest I'm sure someone such as yourself shares—," He paused, waiting for Sark's indication of agreement. "What we're seeking to do is infiltrate the CIA with an imposter agent. A dangerous job, yes, but impossible, no. In fact, we have one in there already, not an agent or anything. You see, that's our goal. We'd like to have an informant working with some of the top people in the CIA, agents, officers, whatever. We want a saboteur. We have a number of prospects in the recruit program right now, but that would take too long for them to infiltrate the agency. We're looking for someone to feign allegiance to the CIA, perhaps by turning themselves in?" Llamas finished, his implications clear.
Sark paused, considering his answer carefully and opened his mouth to speak but saw Llamas' eyes grow distant, looking beyond him. Sark turned around, eager to see what the distraction was, and saw it was none other than his partner in crime. Agent Anna Parker. She was strutting suggestively towards them, her dress clinging to her toned curves in all the right places. "Can I speak to the manager of this place for a moment, please?"
Llamas was entirely enraptured by Anna, watching her intently as she ran her hands down her body, smoothing out her dress. "Mr. Sark, naturally, you will excuse me, as customers come first."
Sark stood up reluctantly but was interrupted by Anna's voice, dripping with sensuality. As she approached the two men, she paused at Sark, running her fingers along the collar of his shirt and neck. "There's no need for anyone to leave. I like an audience," she breathed, sitting on the leather couch and crossing her legs and indicating that Sark should sit back down.
Llamas hovered over her, one of his hands freely roaming her bare leg. "I'm the owner, Ms....?"
Anna smiled, showing a set of impeccably white, sparkling teeth. "Isabella Guigné," she replied, shooting a knowing glance at Sark.
Llamas' shiny face was gleaming as he looked Anna up and down hungrily. "Ms.Guigné, feel free to express your displeasure, or pleasure for that matter....freely."
Sark's fingers touched his mouth, his mind screaming that he wanted to kill this man. He was slimy and Sark definitely didn't like the way he was looking at Anna like she was something he could devour.
Anna patted Llamas' knee, lingering for a suggestive moment too long. She moved in closer, her mouth whispering into his ear, just as she had done with Sark earlier. Sark could feel his hands mold into tight fists and he tried to control his disgust at Llamas. He didn't understand why he was getting so angry. He knew Anna was just acting and trying to get those fingerprints they needed. Still, it irked him either way and if she was just acting, why did he still care?
Sark watching in mounting frustration as Llamas tilted his head, kissing Anna's neck, his hands still grazing her warm, soft skin. What was even worse is that Anna didn't even seem to mind what she, and Llamas, was doing for that matter. Sark sat up straighter in his seat as he listened to Anna giggle as she guided his hands into hers, Llamas' other hand reaching up into her short dress.
That was it. Sark was just about to jump up and pull Llamas off Anna, when he heard Llamas cry out painfully. Anna extricated herself from Llamas' hands, kicking him hard in the chest. "You sleaze!" She gave herself a shake to rid herself of his touch.
Sark looked at Anna, his eyes wide and appreciative. "Did you get it?" he asked hurriedly, checking the door for security guards. "That was some show, Ms. Guigné," he complimented, emphasizing her false identity.
Anna glanced at Sark coyly. "Isabella always seems to work like a charm."
"I think Anna Parker works just fine as well."
Before Anna could answer him, Llamas's eyes popped open and he lunged for Anna's arm. "You little bitch, you're not going anywhere!"
Sark jumped onto the couch, shoving his elbow in Llamas's face, knocking him out. "That's no way to treat a lady," he said, breathing heavily.
Anna nodded a thank you at him, peeling off the copy of Llamas' fingerprints and placing them carefully in a plastic bag. "Let's go!" They sped from the run, checking corners carefully and trying to blend with the crowd as they headed back to the dancefloor, which was packed with girating bodies.
"There's no way we can make it out of here right now! They'll hunt us down in seconds. We need to get with the crowd," Anna yelled over the extremely loud music. She took everything out of her purse, pulling Sark close to her and stuffing his jacket pockets. She ran to the doorway of the club and casually dropped her purse. That way, it would look like she had already left the club. She hurried back to where Sark was standing, off to the side of the dance floor. Anna wound her hair in a high-ponytail, looking anxiously around her, seeing couples dancing and making out around her. She cringed and ducked down, seeing two guards looking over the crowd. "They're looking!"
Sark glanced around nonchalantly, seeing the guards Anna had pointed. He guided her quickly to the wall, shielding her body with his taller one and instaneously pressed his lips against hers heatedly, one hand grasping her waist tightly while the other held her face. Her surprised lips kissed him back ferociously, her body pressed tightly against his as her hands skimmed the back of his neck.
Guards?
Anna pulled into the driveway, her mind racing as she climbed out of the car and into the house. "Hey," Sydney greeted her, obviously about to go for a run.
"Hi....is Francie here?" Anna asked, her voice rushed.
Sydney scanned Anna's flushed face questioningly. "No...she had problems at the restaurant. Why, what's up?"
Anna threw her bag on the couch, running her hands through her hair. "No one consulted me that Sark was moved."
Sydney shrugged. "Well, I mean....you....we're just agents. We don't really get informed of high-level decisions 100% of the time."
"Right. But you knew. Your dad and Dixon knew. Why wasn't I told?" Anna interrogated, not buying Sydney's simple response.
Sydney sighed and sat down on the couch, indicating Anna to join her. "Listen, after his good work in Zurich, as well as all the other missions, Kendall agreed to let him live outside of Langley--"
Anna's eyes flashed. "I may have only known Kendall for a few months, but I've been around long enough to know that he would NEVER agree to that."
Sydney nodded in agreement. "And you're right, he didn't. But Sark said that unless he was moved from his cell he wouldn't be part of the mission to rescue you in Zurich. And he also threatened to stop cooperating, so Kendall gave in. So he's been moved to a safe-house where he is being watched 24/7, basically living under the illusion of freedom."
"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. Why is Kendall letting his guard down? We still don't know what Sark is up to. Trusting him....that's a mistake," Anna replied furiously, shocked at what Sydney had said.
Sydney held up her hands as a peace gesture. "Hey, hey, I'm with you. He should not be trusted under any circumstances.....but Kendall only sees that Sark has done good work and...Kendall seems to think that you trust him."
"I don't trust him."
Sydney closed her eyes, looking conflicted and Anna waited for what was next. "Syd, what is it?"
"Anna, there's something else. There's been a question of your professionality in dealing with Sark--"
"My what?" Anna's face grew more flushed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"It just....sometimes, it looks like you're getting too close to him.....like you're friends....or you care about him," Sydney replied slowly, fearing her friend's reaction.
"What, like you and Vaughn? You are a fine example of getting too close!" Anna retorted.
"That's different! How can you even compare the two situations? Vaughn wasn't working under Sloane. He never tried to kill me! There's the difference, Anna!"
Anna threw up her hands in defeat. "I don't understand this! I didn't even want to deal with Sark in the first place....and now that we're finally getting somewhere thanks to his information, I'm getting ripped apart for....for nothing! There is nothing going on. I don't like him...I don't even trust him. But I accomodate him and I do and say what I need to get him to talk. You're the one who told me to use him for everything he had!" she exclaimed bitterly.
"I know! I know! But I also know that Sark....it's what he does--he's very suave, persuasive. He could be manipulating you."
"You don't think I know that? I'm not a second-rate agent, Syd. We trained together! So don't you even doubt me, not for one second. I know what I'm doing!" Anna stalked out the living room, and Sydney cringed as Anna's bedroom door slammed shut.
Anna paced her room, her mind overwhelmed with what had been said during her talk with Sydney. It's not true, she thought, I am not getting too close to him. She chewed her lower lip as Sydney's voice rang through her head and a part of her realized that maybe what Sydney was saying was right.
Since he had saved her life twice, she'd let her guard down. It wasn't deliberate, it had just happened. Anna could feel herself giving way, her distrust and hate of Sark was slowly eroding into something else. Something that she didn't and couldn't confront. It wasn't like she loved him or anything. Hell, she still didn't even really like him. But Anna couldn't deny that there was still some sort of energy, a sexual attraction, between them. The banter. The insults. It all added up to chemistry.
But it wasn't like Anna would ever act on that; she was too professional and she hadn't forgotten who Julian Sark was, a thief, a murderer....an enemy. But Anna knew what she had to do and nothing was going to stand in her way.
**************
Anna walked through the hallway, past the kitchen and living room, not pausing to take a look at the incredible view of the ocean. She kept walking briskly, into the master bedroom, without knocking, where Sark was half-dressed, obviously fresh from a shower.
He looked up at, no trace of surprise in his eyes. "The CIA doesn't have to knock, apparently."
"It's bad enough they've given you this much lee-way. Expect none from me," Anna answered, her voice like ice.
Sark's eyebrows shot up. "Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"
"Where I wake up is not your concern." She opened her briefcase, handing him two crisp pieces of paper. "We leave in an hour."
He held up two button down shirts, one black and one deep blue. "Which one says 'I'm not with the CIA'?"
Anna pursed her lips, her reply cold, "Well, I prefer the black. Wear the blue." With that, she headed out the door.
Sark hovered at the doorway, watching her leave his new home. "It's all my privilege," he said sarcastically to himself.
He headed back into the bathroom, glancing at his reflection in the mirror and trying to sort out Anna's bizarre behaviour. Last time Sark had seen her, she'd been fine; well whatever fine was was anyone's game....but her manner had been pleasant and almost friendly. Now she was acting distant and cold and he couldn't figure out why.
He shook his head, realizing that he needed to focus his efforts on this next operation. Sark had set up a meeting with one of the heads of the Covenant, as that organization did not know that he was in CIA custody. Presumably, only Alison Doren and Sloane knew that he had been captured by the CIA and Sark was hoping that Covenant had remained uninformed because if they were aware that his loyalties had switched, they wouldn't hesitate to blow his head off.
Sark and Anna were going to France for two things. First, the CIA hoped to gain insight and information on the Covenant through Sark's meeting. Then, Anna was assigned to getting the fingerprints of the man with whom Sark was meeting, so that they'd be able to unlock some sort of system at a later date. How she was going to do that without being obvious and getting them both killed, Sark had no idea. And he hated not being in control.
**************
Sark glanced at Anna from the corner of his eye, watching her scan the mission file quickly. Her eyes lifted and caught his accusingly. "What?" she demanded.
"Nothing....but I know that this bar is informal, but don't you think that's pushing it?" Sark suggested, motioning at Anna's plain long-sleeve shirt, sports pants and hair piled under a paper-boy cap.
"Since when are you the fashion police," she commented, tossing the file at him "Review it."
Sark threw a fake grin her way. "Thanks, boss, but I already did that. Seriously, what is wrong with you?"
Anna ignored his question and continued to make sure they had everything they needed before entering the club.
Sark moved to stand in front of Anna, so that she would have to acknowledge him. "These fingerprints; I was thinking that once my meeting is finished, I could restrain the man, and you can grab him for the prints."
"No, I've got it covered," Anna said simply, offering no further explanation.
But he didn't stop. "Ok, listen, if we're going to be working together, you must—"
She spun around and her forceful eyes froze his words. "First of all, we don't work together." Anna walked towards him, forcing him to move back against the wall. "You work for me."
Sark tilted his head, smiling playfully, knowing perfectly well that Anna was not in the mood for bantering. But he did it anyway. "I like forceful, but you're coming on a bit too strong, Anna."
"Cut the crap. Let's do this." She stopped, pressing her body against his, her lips close to his ear. "And if you think about screwing me over, don't. Because I have no qualms about making you pay," she whispered, her voice tinged with allure. Anna backed away from him, getting ready to leave the room and start the mission. Anna pulled off her long-sleeve shirt and tore off her snap pants hurriedly, exposing a short, sky-blue dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She also got rid of her hat, her lustrous hair cascading down her back. Sark watched her, enticed by her movements.
"Could you?" her soft voice interrupted his thoughts and Sark saw that she was holding out a necklace expectantly. She piled her long hair to one side, the back of her neck nakedly exposed to his touch.
Sark's hands seemed to shake slightly as he clasped together the silvery necklace around her smooth neck. Her sent wafted around him; a mixture of vanilla and strawberries and for a moment he completely forgot where he was, thinking he was just in the presence of a beautiful woman, not with a hardened agent of the CIA. Sark tried to shake those thoughts mentally, remembering that this was a woman who wanted nothing more than to see him dead, or at least that's how she had been acting for the past week.
Sark left the room first, entering the club coolly, and headed to the bar for a drink. He had 15 minutes before his meeting with the mystery leader of the Covenant. Sark kept his eyes focused on the doorway, waiting for Anna's entrance and she didn't disappoint. She entered and walked through the club as an entirely different person, looking free-spirited, fun, and mysterious. Men turned from their own dates and looked up as she strode past, giving her an inviting look. Sark felt something in his chest constrict and he downed his drink, his eyes not leaving Anna for a second. Sark jumped anxiously off the bar stool when he saw a man pull Anna onto the dance floor, expecting to see Anna shrug him off. But she didn't. What she did do was pull the man close and intertwine their bodies sensually. As she danced, the man's hand firmly implanted on her waist from behind, Sark swore she directed a glance right at him. He finished his second drink, rubbing his hands over his face and avoiding looking at Anna. What she did was her business.
Sark headed into one of the swanky back rooms of the clubs and was welcomed by a brusque Spanish man by the name of Pedro Llamas.
"You must be Mr. Sark," Llamas inferred, his voice thick with an accent.
"Yes....and you are the head of the Covenant, I presume?" Sark settled in a chair across from Llamas, his hands folded together.
Llamas' laugh was low and harsh. "Ah, no, a man can only dream. Unfortunately for both you and me, I'm just the man behind the man."
Sark hid his confusion. "I was supposed to meeting with the head of the Covenant," he said calmly.
Llamas lit a cigarette, offering the package to Sark, who politely declined. "Good choice. These things can be addictive. Like women, huh?" Llamas laughed again, obviously in no hurry to get down to business.
Sark leaned forward, growing frustrated. "Listen, I'm interested in learning more about the Covenant's organization, to see if it might be something....that could ascertain...my own interests. First off, I'd like to know who you work for; who is at the forefront of your organization."
Llamas grinned, his teeth slightly yellowed from tobacco use. "Eager, are we? Tell me first, who is it that you work for? You're a bit young to be into all of this, are you not?"
Sark remained unflinching and unresponsive. "My interest, intelligence, and abilities make my age a meaningless consideration. As for whom I am employed by....I'm in charge of myself, you see!" He lied effortlessly, feeling comforted by the fact that the the ability to lie had not been lost to him.
Llamas smiled coldly. "You're an arrogant one. But still, you interest me. I will tell you about the Covenant....as we can always use fresh....blood, shall we say!"
Sark arched his eyebrows, all his energy focused on being attentive. Llamas moved forward, exhaling loudly. "The Organization is one that seeks to dethrone the CIA...naturally, an interest I'm sure someone such as yourself shares—," He paused, waiting for Sark's indication of agreement. "What we're seeking to do is infiltrate the CIA with an imposter agent. A dangerous job, yes, but impossible, no. In fact, we have one in there already, not an agent or anything. You see, that's our goal. We'd like to have an informant working with some of the top people in the CIA, agents, officers, whatever. We want a saboteur. We have a number of prospects in the recruit program right now, but that would take too long for them to infiltrate the agency. We're looking for someone to feign allegiance to the CIA, perhaps by turning themselves in?" Llamas finished, his implications clear.
Sark paused, considering his answer carefully and opened his mouth to speak but saw Llamas' eyes grow distant, looking beyond him. Sark turned around, eager to see what the distraction was, and saw it was none other than his partner in crime. Agent Anna Parker. She was strutting suggestively towards them, her dress clinging to her toned curves in all the right places. "Can I speak to the manager of this place for a moment, please?"
Llamas was entirely enraptured by Anna, watching her intently as she ran her hands down her body, smoothing out her dress. "Mr. Sark, naturally, you will excuse me, as customers come first."
Sark stood up reluctantly but was interrupted by Anna's voice, dripping with sensuality. As she approached the two men, she paused at Sark, running her fingers along the collar of his shirt and neck. "There's no need for anyone to leave. I like an audience," she breathed, sitting on the leather couch and crossing her legs and indicating that Sark should sit back down.
Llamas hovered over her, one of his hands freely roaming her bare leg. "I'm the owner, Ms....?"
Anna smiled, showing a set of impeccably white, sparkling teeth. "Isabella Guigné," she replied, shooting a knowing glance at Sark.
Llamas' shiny face was gleaming as he looked Anna up and down hungrily. "Ms.Guigné, feel free to express your displeasure, or pleasure for that matter....freely."
Sark's fingers touched his mouth, his mind screaming that he wanted to kill this man. He was slimy and Sark definitely didn't like the way he was looking at Anna like she was something he could devour.
Anna patted Llamas' knee, lingering for a suggestive moment too long. She moved in closer, her mouth whispering into his ear, just as she had done with Sark earlier. Sark could feel his hands mold into tight fists and he tried to control his disgust at Llamas. He didn't understand why he was getting so angry. He knew Anna was just acting and trying to get those fingerprints they needed. Still, it irked him either way and if she was just acting, why did he still care?
Sark watching in mounting frustration as Llamas tilted his head, kissing Anna's neck, his hands still grazing her warm, soft skin. What was even worse is that Anna didn't even seem to mind what she, and Llamas, was doing for that matter. Sark sat up straighter in his seat as he listened to Anna giggle as she guided his hands into hers, Llamas' other hand reaching up into her short dress.
That was it. Sark was just about to jump up and pull Llamas off Anna, when he heard Llamas cry out painfully. Anna extricated herself from Llamas' hands, kicking him hard in the chest. "You sleaze!" She gave herself a shake to rid herself of his touch.
Sark looked at Anna, his eyes wide and appreciative. "Did you get it?" he asked hurriedly, checking the door for security guards. "That was some show, Ms. Guigné," he complimented, emphasizing her false identity.
Anna glanced at Sark coyly. "Isabella always seems to work like a charm."
"I think Anna Parker works just fine as well."
Before Anna could answer him, Llamas's eyes popped open and he lunged for Anna's arm. "You little bitch, you're not going anywhere!"
Sark jumped onto the couch, shoving his elbow in Llamas's face, knocking him out. "That's no way to treat a lady," he said, breathing heavily.
Anna nodded a thank you at him, peeling off the copy of Llamas' fingerprints and placing them carefully in a plastic bag. "Let's go!" They sped from the run, checking corners carefully and trying to blend with the crowd as they headed back to the dancefloor, which was packed with girating bodies.
"There's no way we can make it out of here right now! They'll hunt us down in seconds. We need to get with the crowd," Anna yelled over the extremely loud music. She took everything out of her purse, pulling Sark close to her and stuffing his jacket pockets. She ran to the doorway of the club and casually dropped her purse. That way, it would look like she had already left the club. She hurried back to where Sark was standing, off to the side of the dance floor. Anna wound her hair in a high-ponytail, looking anxiously around her, seeing couples dancing and making out around her. She cringed and ducked down, seeing two guards looking over the crowd. "They're looking!"
Sark glanced around nonchalantly, seeing the guards Anna had pointed. He guided her quickly to the wall, shielding her body with his taller one and instaneously pressed his lips against hers heatedly, one hand grasping her waist tightly while the other held her face. Her surprised lips kissed him back ferociously, her body pressed tightly against his as her hands skimmed the back of his neck.
Guards?