Still:Images

Prologue

See, here is the issue with this entire picture. I remember: heat, passion, for-longing and a bit of deception.

Nothing of the sort materialized through this image.

All I could make out was the size-able tattoo peaking out under her tight blue dress. 

Her hair was done up neat and messy at the same time. Her legs were to die for and the face; not reflected quite clearly here, but in my head was something out of a dream.

This picture in my hand didn't do her enough justice.

What I had under, behind and above me could never translate in this picture.

"What's her name?" I growl trying to ignore the ragging hard on.

She is in my head.  I can still smell her.

Feel her.

Hear her moans.

Her panty's are still in my back pocket for Christ's sake.

I am captivated by this woman and I don't even know her name.

"Sir, we're still trying to locate her now" I feel the shift in the room "she wasn't on the guest list last night..." Quin whispers.

I gather myself and turn to her.

Imagine this: a female, about 5ft and 5inches, body built like a model but her face was like a machine gun.

Hard and fucking deadly.

This weapon, of literal mass destruction, killer of powerful men and women alike, looks at me like a child that got caught stealing out of the cookie jar.

"Sir, security was tight, I myself manned, the list and the door and made sure only the persons invited made it in..." she looks up at me and grimaces, " I need to find out whose responsible for this security breach and have them punished myself."

I know that I can trust her to have it handled but that still left my woman in the wind and that would not do.

" I need a name Quin, and I need one soon" with a hard and unwavering tone I walk off in search of a release.

At this time any broad would do just fine.

Being a powerful man does have its perks.