[BAD 07] - Silent Truth by Sherrilyn Kenyon Page A

around thirty, maybe five foot five, shapely, in a soft inviting way. She’d wrapped her curvaceous body in a dark green dress with a black sash and black heels. Intriguing.
    He continued pressing random digits on his cell phone so he could enjoy the delightful vision more closely while she dug around in her glittery evening bag. She wore her curly brown hair piled high, screwed into some kind of style that showed off sparkling earrings, a matching necklace, and the sweet, sweet curve of her neck. Inexpensive costume jewelry. Minimal makeup, little more than dressing up her simple face, though her lips did have a delicious appeal.
    Something in her movements and face seemed familiar.
    Did he know her?
    Didn’t look like someone he knew socially… or had dated.
    She didn’t resemble the rail-thin, self-absorbed females with a penchant for exotic jewelry and one-of-a-kind designer clothing he’d tolerate for a night.
    Curly Locks didn’t have a drop of blue blood in her.
    A plus in his book.
    But how did she know the Wentworths?
    Hunter prepared to dismiss her as interesting but not significant enough to be noted when she lifted her head and glanced around as though getting her bearings.
    Her gaze crashed into his and her eyes widened.
    He stared into anxious turquoise-green eyes. Dark lashes framed the worried gaze that once again brought on a sense of déjà vu.
    Had he met her somewhere?
    Where?
    She lingered a second longer, the extra look making him think she found his face familiar, too, but the moment ended abruptly. She broke eye contact and rushed up the four wide steps flanked by marble columns and disappeared inside.
    Probably one of those “everyone has a twin” things.
    But he’d investigate further once he had time.
    Never dismiss anything unusual on an op.
    He stepped forward, affecting the casual pace of the slightly bored. Passing through the arched entrance integrated into a two-story wall of glass, he paused for the doorman, who bulged with a censorious air.
    Can’t allow the unworthy to slip through.
    Hunter withdrew the silver-and-black invitation that had been couriered to his hotel at noon. He handed the card off without waiting for a comment before walking on.
    A Thornton-Payne was never denied entrance to any social event.
    He strolled through a brief hallway boasting art rarely seen outside museums, likely owned for generations. If any of the Rembrandts, Monets, or Rubenses could talk about what went on inside this home the result would be a bestselling gossip book. The Wentworth family had been mired in mystique and rumors that rivaled the Kennedys’. The buzz of voices lured him ahead to a ballroom with soaring gilded ceilings that boasted hand-blown chandeliers shaped as flowers and vines. Classical notes of Bach floated from a pearl-white baby grand between quiet conversation supplied by over two hundred patrons awaiting the entrance of Gwenyth Wentworth, who sat onthe board of the Kore Women’s Center.
    But her father, Peter Wentworth, still led the revered family.
    And Peter would have died in an explosion four years ago if Eliot hadn’t given his life to ensure Hunter made it off that cliff in Kauai to deliver the plans for a terrorist attack on the UK hospital.
    So what was the connection between Peter Wentworth and the Fratelli de il Sovrano, a secret organization that had seriously threatened American security more than once in the past two years?
    BAD disarmed an attack on the U.S. Congress last year with the help of an infamous electronic informant known only as Mirage who worked via the internet until she was captured by a fellow BAD agent and unmasked as Gabrielle Saxe. Gabrielle became involved in their mission after being contacted via a cryptic postcard by Linette, a woman she’d known as a girl when they were both teens at a private European school before Linette disappeared.
    By the end of the mission to uncover the Fratelli’s plot, Linette had become a mole inside the