Under Pressure [IAD Agency] (Siren Publishing Classic)

he completed his mission.
    No one was cooler under pressure because Jason no longer felt anything.
    After years of service, he had known he needed a change. His life in London had no longer held any appeal to him. He had established a security firm with his knowledge of electronics and surveillance, amongst other skills, and had used his family money to found his company. By reputation alone, Mac Securities was now the one of the most sought after security firms in the world.
    Mac Securities installed security systems in many museums and other high-risk facilities around the globe using the latest technology and military precision. Jason had wanted to devote his energy full time to his firm and leave the agency. He had made plans to branch out overseas in the States, had picked out the perfect location, and bought the building.
    That was when the offer came.
    The International Alliance of Defense was a new branch in the intelligence community, more like a transnational agency. The ultimate warriors of global warfare. The members of NATO had given permission to form IAD to function in every member country, every nation where terrorists existed and to wipe them out. They had a frightening policy of not wanting to know what was going on with the agency, leaving the dirty work to those who knew the game and how to handle the repercussions.
    Only the highest, most qualified candidates were chosen for this organization, given a kind of worldwide immunity for their actions.
    Sort of the ultimate “don’t ask, don’t tell.”
    Only the best were chosen to serve, and their internal justice system was not something any of the agents wanted to mess around with.
    The rules were simple…no one crossed IAD.
    Ever.
    IAD got the job done, no matter how messy. They did it quick, efficiently, with whatever means necessary, and the world was a more peaceful place because of them. For the highly skilled select members of IAD, it was a dream come true since most of the agents had been disillusioned with the rules, regulations, and red tape of the regular intelligence branches.
    For the past five years, Jason MacBain had been the head of the Chicago IAD branch with partner Brett Michaels, an American-born ex-military man who was one of the few people in the world that Jason trusted with his life. The IAD branch was fronted by the Chicago location of Mac Securities. While Jason was the public face of the security company, Brett was able to devote one hundred percent of his time to running IAD. Together, both sides of the business ran smoothly.
    Now, Jason found himself standing at the entrance of the hotel ballroom wishing he were anywhere else.
    He had forced himself to attend tonight since he donated a sculpture that had belonged to his family. The sculpture held no meaning to him, never had. It had to his parents though, and that was why he was there to represent them at the benefit auction.
    Christ, I need a fucking drink. Someone needs to buy that chunk of metal so I can get the hell out of here and go home.
    Striding in confidently, he surveyed the room made up of women and pompous pricks ready to flaunt their cash for some overpriced useless pieces of shit.
    What a bleeding waste of time and money.
    People at these types of functions were always the same. Men wanted to meet and greet, talking to him because of the power he so adeptly wielded in the business world, and women fawned over his looks and vast amounts of money. He didn’t even bother asking someone to join him this evening since it would be more hassle then pleasure escorting her around. Well, it would have been nice to sink into a woman’s willing body at the end of the evening, but it wasn’t worth the effort of playing nice during the party.
    It had been awhile since any particular woman had actually stirred his interest anyway, and for that matter, they never held it for very long. Most women found him cold and calculating.
    He was.
    He didn’t deny it, nor could he help it. He enjoyed women, when he wanted them. He enjoyed them in bed, but he never stuck around after.
    Emotional entanglements did not appeal to him.
    Women, he thought, could forgive pretty much anything for a trinket or two before he moved on to the next attractive lovely to catch his eye.
    The event was in full swing by this time since he had arrived late, hoping that bidding would be over soon. Viewing a waiter close by, he started forward to grab a drink when a woman slammed into