by Misty Evans
He'd slept in the bed with her, waking her every two hours—boy, was she a grump about that—to make sure her concussion wasn't serious. Toward morning when his alarm went off, he woke to find her with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He’d asked if she was okay, and all she'd done was curl into him and whisper, “Are you still angry at me?”
The question had taken him back. Worried out of his mind, hell yes, but what had given her the impression he was angry at her? He'd lain there, stiff as a brick, while everything in him wanted to pull her close, hug her to him. His mind went crazy with various erotic scenarios.
Restraining himself, he’d shaken his head—it was all he could do. Within moments, she was snoring softly, draping a hooked leg over him and clutching his chest. She smelled too damn good, felt like warm honey against him. His cock had reacted as if she’d actually touched it.
Today, her body language said she was more than pissed, and she wasn't fine. The lump on the side of her head had shrunk, but there was a bruise near her ear spreading toward her jaw.
“Do you agree with Parker,” she asked, “that it was two of Karl's men?”
“You have a different theory?”
She fell silent.
He turned off his comm unit, tossed the earbud on the console. “What were you doing in the stairwell, Mia? I want the truth.”
Her hesitation was so brief he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t spent nearly every moment of the last forty-eight hours with her. All the acting they’d done had actually given him plenty of insight into her real thoughts and motives. “The elevators were busy. I didn’t want to wait.”
Bullshit. “You were on the second floor landing. Tell me you weren’t planning on breaking into Kaiser’s office.”
“Well, sure, I thought about it, but that would’ve been dumb. Those men were right on my heels after I entered the stairwell. I stopped there because it was either fight or outrun them to the seventh floor in heels.”
If her body language and voice were any indication, she was telling the truth.
“What's your deal with Senator Hinch?”
She shot him a glance. “Why? It has nothing to do with…”
Uh huh. She almost got the lie out. “Come on, Mia. I need to know the truth. There's a good chance he'll be at the gala. You weren’t by chance following him last night, were you?”
He felt more than saw her tense. “My issue with Hinch has nothing to do with this mission, he doesn’t know me, and anyway, Enya said everyone will be wearing masks tonight.”
“Our invite says they’re optional.” God knew he wasn’t wearing one. He reached across the shifter and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Did he…do something to you?”
The look she shot him made his blood run cold. I knew it. There’d been something in the way she’d reacted when she’d seen him the other night. “What did he do?”
“Really?” she asked, looking out her passenger window. “You’ve seen me naked three times in as many days and that’s what you want to talk about?”
Deflection. “I’m sorry for barging in on you in the bathroom. You might try keeping your clothes on until I give the signal that I don’t need to speak to you under the cover of running water.”
He knew that would get her, and he was right. She blustered. “Well, excuse me for assuming you would knock before entering.”
Maneuvering through the streets, they finally left the worst of the traffic behind. In the distance, he saw the glint of sunshine off the water. “Married couples don’t knock.”
“How do you know?”
Steering him off topic. Another deflection. “I am sorry. This is your first UC mission and we didn’t have time to work out certain details beforehand. But it’s a good thing I barged in before you passed out. You could’ve ended up with another lump on that hard head of yours.”
An exasperated sound emerged from her throat, but he heard the smile in it. “What’s our plan going forward? He wants to talk about doing business, but what if he simply wants to invest legitimate funds into Ghost Gun? We need proof about the illegal arms sales, the evidence about the black market baby ring too.”
“Let me handle it.” He took a turn. “Right now, I want you to reset, clear your head.”
It was still early enough the public beach was busy but not yet packed. They parked and ventured to the sand, Mia kicking off her shoes and going barefoot. They walked for a while, not saying anything, the sound of surf and seagulls relaxing him as well. Mia picked up shells and he put them in his pocket.
An hour later, they left and climbed back into the car. He took them to a nearby café where he ordered lattes and a variety of bakery goods. The woman liked to eat and he was going to ply her with sugar until he got the truth out of her about Hinch.
She started with the most decadent of the pastries, filled with cream and a layer of baker’s sugar on top. “Oh my god.” The words were slightly muffled since she had her mouth full. She pointed at the pastry, eyes wide. “This is pure sin.”
She was pure sin at the moment, a swipe of white filling dotting the corner of her mouth, her eyes rolling up in her head as she took another bite.
He carefully cut the next pastry in half, a chocolate hazelnut concoction. “Try this,” he said, holding it up to her mouth. She bit into it, her warm lips brushing his finger and thumb. She moaned before she even started chewing and he felt it all the way down to his toes. Good thing she couldn't see his lower half, and the thickening of his cock through his dress pants.
Damn, how would he get through another night without kissing her absolutely fucking silly?
And once he started, there’d be no stopping.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked like she was halfway to an orgasm. “I've never had anything like this. The chocolate is…” She made another sound in the back of her throat that made his cock jump even higher. “And the hazelnut, it's all so fresh and…well, delicious doesn't do it justice.”
He had to swallow hard, her expression of total bliss making his mind go completely blank. He bet that's what she looked like when she was coming, and in another place and time, maybe he’d have found out.
“Come on.” She grabbed the other half and held it up to his mouth. “You’ve got to try it.”
He let her feed him, his tongue sneaking out to tickle her finger as he took the bite she offered. Her breath hitched, and she quickly covered it by nodding, expectation on her face. “Isn’t it fabulous?”
It was fabulous all right. Sitting here, in a small French café, eating pastries and drinking coffee with a beautiful woman? It was better than fabulous.
And all fake.
Well, maybe not all.
They dug into the third pastry, taking turns feeding each other and laughing when they ended up with as much frosting and filling smeared on their mouths as in their stomachs.
“Have you ever done this before?” Mia asked, motioning between them. “Been married I mean. For real.”
He nearly choked on his coffee, Antonia’s face flashing across his memory. “Didn’t you read my file?”
“The Agency never gave me your file. All I had were a few notes on the mission you were on in Berlin. There were a couple on your time as a SEAL, and of your qualifications, but nothing personal.”
So she didn't know his background. Protocol at the CIA. “No, I was never married. Why?”
She shrugged. “You’re good at it. I would swear it comes from experience.”
It did. He and Antonia hadn’t been married but they might as well have been. “There was a woman once. We shared…” He had to clear his throat. “A lot.”
“But?”
Coward. He could still hear her calling him that. “I was young and stupid. She left me for the very reason I didn't want to commit.”
Mia nodded, mulling it over. “Do you regret it? Not marrying her?”
“My life wasn’t my own, it was the team’s. I loved her, but not enough I thin
k in the long run. It was better we didn't marry. I never would've joined the CIA after I went civilian. She ended up with a chiropractor and two kids. I'm sure she's happier.”
“Can’t blame her for wanting to tie you down,” Mia said, almost teasingly.
Interesting. He quirked a smile at her. “Don’t go falling in love with me now, you hear?”
She laughed, and the sound made him smile deeper. She was always so serious, but she had a playful streak. Not many women understood his sarcasm.
They finished, and Mia played with her almost empty cup. “Thank you.”
He kicked back, letting his long legs touch hers under the table. “For what?”
She motioned at the café filled now with lunch goers. “For this. For everything.”
He gave her a nod. “I didn't really think about it when we started, but I realized last night this was your first mission. You're doing amazing, but it’s still dangerous. I want…”
When he didn't continue, she gently bumped her knee against his leg. “Want what?”
He shot her a grin. “To show you a little fun, so that you have a good memory of your first undercover operation. Mine wasn’t exactly a good time. When you look back on this, I want you to remember me as having been a decent agent and not an asshole. I want your first time in the field to be special.”
He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but something he’d said hit home. She sat back and blinked at him, looking for all the world as if he'd read her mind.
They were getting good at that—reading each other’s minds.
She looked down and blew out a deep sigh. “I don't believe you're an asshole, not most of the time, anyway.”
“You don't have to be afraid of Hinch, at least not while you're with me.”
Shifting the conversation like that caught her off guard. Her head came up. “I'm not the one…”
She bit off whatever else she was about to say, but it was enough. “It’s okay if you don't want to talk about it, I just want you to know, I won't let him hurt you.”
Her bottom lip blew out and she glanced away for a heartbeat. When her attention returned to him, her eyes were serious, lips pressed into a firm line. “You should protect him from me.”
Progress. She was talking about him. “Why is that?”
Another heavy sigh and she looked down. “I made a mistake while I was still with the CIA. It was a test run, to see how I did undercover. Things went a little… sideways.”
He knew better than to say anything. It would only spook her and she’d shut up. So he sat still and waited.
Sure enough, after she did some more mental debating, she raised her head to look at him. “I have guardianship of my younger sister. Our parents are deceased—she's all I have in the world. My assignment was to go undercover at a party, a fundraiser, and I didn't have anyone to watch her. She's borderline autistic and was only sixteen at the time. I don't leave her with too many people, and the one person who understands her and she’ll tolerate is watching her this weekend, but back then, I had no one.”
She didn't give him any more for a moment but his mind went to places, ugly ones, and he eased forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Hinch was at the party.”
A nod. “It was the biggest break of my career, and I couldn’t… I should’ve bailed, backed out, but I never expected anything like what happened.”
His hands fisted and he gritted his teeth. “Tell me he didn’t…”
She shook her head and for a second, he swore he saw tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “He would have if the hostess and I hadn't walked in on them.”
There was a roar in his head. He banged his fist on the table. “Goddammit.”
A few patrons looked their way. Mia reached across the table and covered his fist with her soft hand. “It's okay, hotcakes. Chloe's all right.”
“Why didn't you bring him up on charges?” Then it hit him—an autistic teenage girl versus a United States senator. “Wait, did the Agency cover it up?”
She uncurled his fingers and slid her hand on top of his. “Not only did they cover it up, but I think that's the real reason they fired me after what happened in Berlin. They thought I was a ticking time bomb because I wouldn't let it go. They were right.”
He leaned closer and pulled her fingers to his mouth, kissing them. She would think it was for the spectators, but he really just needed to reassure her. “I'll kill him.”
Her eyes widened and she smirked, but didn't pull her hand away. “No need for that, although, I have to tell you, it's crossed my mind a few times. I know how to make murder look like an accident. But I do plan to expose him, one way or another.”
“You said he wouldn't recognize you.”
“He won't. I wore a disguise that night, and he barely noticed me.”
Ryker tapped a finger on the table. “When this mission is over, I'm going to help you expose that bastard. That's a promise.”
What about Jaeger? The question was in her eyes, but he ignored it. He’d figure it out. Hinch would not remain free.
Chapter Nine
Go with the flow; blend in. Or not.
* * *
Mia couldn't help it—her stomach was a mess of butterflies as she slid her arm through Ryker’s and prepared to descend the stairs into the massive ballroom.
When they returned to the hotel after lunch, Enya told them their meeting with Kaiser had been cancelled as he’d been “called away for an emergency.” Parker had no details, everything seemed in order at the casino, and nothing about Kaiser’s external communications suggested he was meeting any of his criminal colleagues. Unless he’d been able to turn into the invisible man, Parker and company had not been able to catch him leaving the hotel at any point.
Mia had panicked—was Karl pulling out of the tentative deal? Ryker had calmed her down by making her model a dress she’d bought that day in an upscale boutique, along with a matching mask. He'd assured her that Kaiser, the playboy, was probably busy with his latest girlfriend and didn't want to interrupt that to talk business.
“We’re running out of time,” she’d whispered in Ryker’s ear when he’d brought her out to the balcony, making her look at the water while he massaged the back of her neck. That was when he’d insisted about the dress, even though she'd already done so at the boutique. If she didn't know better, she’d think he simply liked seeing her in it.
The dress was gorgeous and fit her to a T. Beatrice should be proud; she wasn't half bad at picking out perfectly tailored clothes for herself.
Of course, having unlimited funds and a man who understood the way her body moved offering his approval didn’t hurt. Mia had never been shopping with a man, and at first, had dismissed Ryker’s input. However, by the third dress she still hadn't quite found what she wanted and finally gave in to his suggestion—a dark plum bohemian number with a fitted waist that flowed over her curves with impeccable grace. It was “alluring” rather than in-your-face sexy, according to him, and made her feel elegant.
The matching mask was the same color and embellished with glittering crystals around the eyes. One side flared up like the petal of a flower, hiding her lump and the corresponding bruise. She felt dramatic and enchanting. Perfect for a Midsummer's Night party.
She snuck a glance at her partner and felt her heart kick hard. He was impeccably dressed, as always, hair combed back and smelling so damn good, she felt a little weak in the knees. He made her pause at the top of the steps, drawing the attention of some of the partygoers below. His eyes twinkled as he looked out over the crowd, sparkling light from the chandeliers reflected in them as music swelled from the orchestra.
There was something about him that looked like a panther stalking its prey, but at the same time, it was almost as if he fit right in with this crowd.
How is that possible? He was a chameleon, changing his colors depending on his environment. An outback Aussie one day, a swaggering, cultured, Frenchman the next. Somewhere in b
etween, he'd become her protector and partner.
“You have experience with ballroom dancing, right?” he murmured.
The idea of dancing in Ryker’s arms sent a thrill through her. “I can hold my own.”
More people stopped what they were doing to stare at the two of them. Several guests at the buffet quit loading their plates to see what was attracting everyone's attention. Most had gone with the night’s theme, plenty of floral crowns in the women's hair, bowlers on the men's heads, and a fairy/hippie vibe infiltrating their wardrobes.
Being in the spotlight had never made her comfortable, and yet, with Ryker beside her, she felt bold, cunning, and ready to take down a black-market criminal.
“Where is Karl?” she murmured. Most women wore masks, some of the men too. Kaiser wasn't the type to hide behind one; he loved everyone knowing who he was. “I don't see him.”
“He’ll be here.”
It was all the reassurance she’d get. Ryker patted her arm and they started down the stairs.
Fairy lights were strung everywhere, and even the orchestra had gotten into the spirit, dressing as elves.
“You look stunning,” he said, as if to soothe her jangled nerves.
The towering ceiling was mostly glass and allowed the moon to shine on them. Table centerpieces contained moss, ferns, and beautiful white birch branches draped with miniature lights.
“Another thing you're good at,” she said through a smile as she did her best impression of the queen looking over her court.
“What's that?” he sounded bemused.
“Taking my mind off the seriousness of the mission. Compliments, food, neck massages. The bar is set high for my next partner.”
They reached the middle of the staircase, the music becoming slightly louder, many of the onlookers continuing to openly gawk. “Your next partner? Dumping me already?”
String lights hung from wall sconces, the circling fairy waitresses offering guests pink drinks from trays that appeared to glow. “I suppose you’ll want to screen him, make sure he's up to snuff?”
His elbow tightened on her arm, pulling her closer. She could've sworn she heard a low growl coming from his throat but the music was too loud to be certain. “He won't be.”