Claiming His Treasure

Prologue

Prague, Czech Republic

There was nothing like a cold beer and a good fuck to help a man unwind after a hunt.

Jackson North leaned back on his stool and took a long, slow sip of his lager, letting it sit on his tongue as his eyes traveled up and down the bar. The dimly lit public house was lively tonight, and he picked up snippets of conversation in at least five languages as he scoped out his potential company for the evening. There was no shortage of attractive women in this particular hole in the wall, but he was in the mood for something special. A good hunt always left his body thrumming with a distinctive sort of hunger.

He wasn't the only one on the prowl tonight. Beside him, his teammate Toshi was chatting up a pretty German girl with blue streaks in her hair. Jackson had heard a duck speak better German than Toshi, but the girl seemed to find his mistakes charming. She laughed and ran a finger down one of the tattoos on his arm as she corrected his pronunciation.

"I think he's just making up words," said Leo from his stool on the other side of Jackson. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he laughed and shook his head at their younger teammate.

Jackson grinned. "I'm pretty sure I heard some Pig Latin in there." Not that he blamed Toshi for having a little fun. Nothing got a man's blood going like the sort of expedition they'd just finished. They'd escaped with only a handful of injuries this time—one of their members had needed stitches, and Toshi was sporting one hell of a black eye, which he seemed to have used to his advantage tonight—and the prize had been worth every cut and bruise. The drinks would flow freely tonight.

Jackson raised his beer toward Leo. "To another successful venture."

His partner flashed a smile and returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. "To another generous haul."

They clinked their glasses, but as Leo drained his pint, Jackson found his eyes wandering again. As much as he enjoyed toasting with Leo—and hell, if the fellow didn't make an excellent drinking partner—his cock was interested in a different kind of celebration.

And then, as if the sex gods had finally decided to bless this night of victory, he spotted her—a girl who was everything he could have asked for. A girl who, even across this dark, smoky bar, brought his entire body to attention.

She was tall and full in all the right places, and the tight top and fitted jeans she wore showed off every last curve to perfection. Long, honey-colored waves flowed down her back. He'd always been drawn to hair like that—hair that made women look like they'd just come from a good fuck. Even better when he was the one doing the fucking.

An image flashed in his mind—the memory of hair of a similar shade and texture, spread like an amber fan across his pillow. Even now he could smell that hair, sweet as ripe strawberries, though it had been months since the last time he'd buried his face in those strands. His dick throbbed at the memory.

Fuck, man. Get it together. The girl on the other end of the bar might look a little like Charlie, but there was no reason for him to lose himself in nine-month-old memories. He was already hard, for chrissake.

He looked down the bar at the girl again. As he watched, she turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder to where he sat. Her dark eyes sparkled, and she flashed him a warm, flirtatious smile before turning back to her drink. A subtle invitation, and one his body most definitely wanted to respond to.

She doesn't look so much like Charlie after all, he told himself. Her eyes are too dark. And her mouth too wide. Charlie's eyes had been a soft, innocent gray. And her mouth had been small and round, with lips that felt like silk against his skin.