Crossing the Line

by Cynthia Eden

  “They’re right here.” Her hand fluttered over her side. “I know you see them. They’re from the car wreck. When we were working that case with James Smith.”

  James Smith…or the assassin formerly known as Ghost. And, yes, Linc certainly remembered the case. He and Blair had been deliberately hit by another vehicle during the course of the investigation. The car had collapsed on Blair’s side, and to put it simply, Linc had lost his shit when she was hurt.

  His fingers caught hers. Moved them away from her side. He stared at the faint marks there. “No one will notice them.” He wanted to bend and press his mouth to them, but…

  No, not supposed to do stuff like that.

  “I didn’t tell you to put on the cover up because of the scars.” His gaze rose to her face. “I told you to put it on because you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I didn’t want any other dumbass on the island getting a look at your body.” There. He turned away.

  “You sound…jealous.”

  “That’s the role I’m supposed to play, isn’t it? Consider me your absolutely obsessed and jealous husband. Linc Rutherford is possessive as hell when it comes to his wife.” I’m possessive as hell when it comes to you. To give himself something to do with his hands—because those hands really wanted to grab her—Linc reached for her suitcase. Started tossing around clothes.

  “Do not touch my bag!” She slapped his hands out of the way. “I can get my own cover up, thank you very much.”

  She was going to put on one? “You don’t need it,” he growled. “You’re perfect.”

  He meant it.

  But she did get one. A cover up that was even more sheer and see-through than the curtains on their bed.

  “Jesus help me,” he mumbled.

  “He does help sinners.”

  His gaze cut back to her. She offered him a bright smile. God, that angelic smile of hers was something else. Every time she flashed it, the smile made him want to sin in the worst way. Linc cleared his throat. “You know, I will have to beat dumbasses off you because they’re going to be salivating out there.”

  “You did just remind me that Rutherford is obsessed. He’d get all jealous and protective, so…let’s go with that vibe. I think it will work well for us.” She headed for the door and paused only long enough to put on some sexy, strappy sandals.

  She was right. An obsessed husband would be jealous. But a partner had no business being jealous. He sucked in a breath and let it out. Slowly.

  “But you don’t get to beat anyone up.” She waited at the door. “That would just get us kicked off the island.”

  “Fine. I’ll be good.”

  She laughed. Music to his freaking ears. Blue eyes dancing a bit, she said, “You’re never good.”

  “I could be good for you.” The words just slipped out.

  Her laughter faded. A faint furrow slid between her eyes. “What—”

  “Nah,” he said, cutting in before she could get out the question and learn too much. “It’s far more fun being bad. I’ll play the bad, jealous husband, and we’ll attract more attention that way.” He closed the distance between them and tapped her on the chin. “Let’s go, my darling. The game is afoot.” He headed out first.

  “You are not Sherlock Holmes,” she declared behind him. “And I will be damned if I’ll be your Watson.”

  “Fine.” He stared at the waves. Tensed because he heard another sound over the roar of the water. “Do you want to be Holmes?” Linc glanced back at her. “Because you know, when we role play, you’ve got to tell me what you want.”

  “I want—”

  “Hello!”

  Linc pretended to jerk in surprise as his head whipped toward Martin. The damn butler was heading his way with some fancy covered dish. “What in the hell, man?” Linc glowered. “I came here for privacy. Privacy. I don’t want some dick hopping in—”

  Blair moved in front of Linc. “I’m sorry. My husband gets…moody when he travels too much.”

  She’d called him a moody bitch. He was sure of it. He was sure because when he’d craned his head, Blair had literally been mouthing moody bitch to the butler.

  “What’s in your hands, Marty?” Linc demanded.

  Martin frowned. “My name is Martin, and it’s—”

  “If that is chocolate-covered strawberries, you need to take that shit and walk away.” He caught Blair’s hand. Lifted her arm. Kissed her on her wrist. “My beautiful bride is allergic, and if her perfect body is covered in splotches, I will be mightily pissed.”

  Martin hurriedly stepped back. “I-I had no idea.”

  You and me both, buddy. “Well, now you do.” He played up his tool persona. He had this new question he liked to roll around in his head…What would Rutherford do? The response to that question was mostly…Be an asshat. “So how about you just dump that shit? And I’ll call you—I mean, walkie-talkie you—when I need something. That means no more pop-in visits from you.”

  “Very good.” Martin sniffed. Turned away, but stopped. Gasping, he whirled around. “The strawberries in the room?”

  Linc was still holding Blair’s arm. He pressed a kiss to the crook of her elbow. “I took care of them. Nothing will hurt my baby.”

  Martin nodded. “I’m sorry.” His gaze darted to Blair.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Blair was all soft and charming. Typical Blair. “I should have informed the staff about my allergy. The fault is mine. Not yours.”

  Martin sent her a look of utter devotion.

  Again, so typical. Every man she met tended to get wrapped around her itty-bitty pinkie finger.

  But, hey, at least she was making an ally there. Maybe Martin would feel like sharing with her later. He sure wouldn’t be sharing with douche Rutherford.

  Martin scrambled away. As he watched him leave, Linc pressed another kiss to Blair’s arm—

  She hissed out a breath. “Are you pretending to be Gomez Addams?”

  He peered up at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Gomez Addams. You’re kissing my arm just like I’m Mortisha and you’re Gomez and—why are you smiling at me?”

  “Because you do like role playing.”

  She snatched her arm away. “My partner is insane.”

  “Crazy like a fox, and don’t you forget it.” But his gaze drifted over her. “I have to ask…where exactly did you hide your weapon?”

  Her smile stole his breath and stopped his heart. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  ***

  “So all the bungalows are occupied,” Linc said as they headed for the island’s main building. A building that Blair knew housed a spa and a five-star restaurant. Once upon a time, that building had been an old United States fort. Then it had been a prison. And now…a luxury vacation resort. Wasn’t that just how life worked?

  Blair swept her gaze to the left, then the right. “We need to find out how long the occupants have been staying, and we have to make sure one of the guests doesn’t become the next target.”

  He nodded. They were walking close together, his hand holding hers. He’d slowed his steps to match hers, and his head bent toward her as they talked. To onlookers, they’d simply look like a loving couple taking a stroll.

  “You think any of the guests could be tied to the abductions?” Linc asked her. “They’d have to be staying here long-term if they were. Otherwise, they couldn’t be in on the attack.”

  “Unless the operation cycles through players.” Blair considered this option as they neared the massive fountain positioned before the building’s entrance. The heavy stone walls of the original fort remained, but the building had been updated—glamorized by a factor of, oh, say five hundred. Gleaming windows looked down on her, and a giant, spiral staircase could be seen just beyond the massive glass doors. “Maybe the person in charge hires players to come to the island, uses them, then sends someone else in. It would be easier to avoid detection that way.” She rolled one shoulder. “Otherwise, if it’s just one
couple staying the whole time, that kind of screams guilty to me.”

  He laughed. “Yes, well, I’ll just go ahead and tell you, my money is on our butler.”

  She stopped. Side-eyed him. “Did you just tell me that you think the butler did it?”

  “Not just any butler. Our butler. Martin gives off criminal vibes.”

  “I did not catch those vibes.”

  “He was sneaking around our place—”

  “He was delivering food and looking for a tip.”

  “Like I believe that.” A firm nod. “It’s a good thing I hid our sat phones so well.”

  Her gaze slid over him. “You hid the guns, too.” He was only wearing a pair of dark swim trunks and flip flops. His muscled chest was bare and tan and it was—

  “I thought you brought your weapon with you.” Linc leaned in even closer because there was another couple who’d just headed for the fountain.

  Blair lifted her free hand and brushed back her hair, revealing her long, leaf-shaped earrings. “I’m armed.” She could yank off the earrings, press a small button, and have a sharp blade slide out of each leaf in an instant.

  His gaze slid to her ear. “You are always so full of surprises.”

  “I try.” The other couple had vanished. It was go time. Blair sucked in a breath. “All right. We need to get inside and get a look at their security. I want to know where their cameras are, how many guards are on the island, and anything else we can find out.”

  “I love it when you talk all hard agent to me.” He grinned. “After you, B.”

  She headed up the steps that led to the grand entrance. She pushed open the door and let out a dramatic gasp as she stepped inside. “Linc, it’s just gorgeous!”

  And it was. Marble flooring. Glittering chandelier. The bungalows were all rustic and island style but this place? Pure money.

  She could see a massive desk to the right. An elegant redhead sat behind the desk, her hair curling over her shoulders. Like Martin, the redhead wore a crisp, blue shirt. She rose when she saw Blair, and Blair noticed that, instead of shorts, the woman was dressed in a tight, white pencil skirt. And very high heels.

  Linc’s arms wrapped around Blair’s stomach. “Only the best for you, sweetheart. I’ve always promised you that. When it comes to you, money is no object.”

  She wanted to elbow him because he was laying it on a bit thick.

  The redhead had obviously heard his words, though, because she seemed to have a little extra spring in her step as she hurried toward them. “Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford!” Her smile was wide and showcased perfect, white teeth. “Welcome to the island!” She offered her hand. “I’m Natasha Frank, the manager here. If there is anything I can do to enrich your stay, please let me know.”

  Natasha Frank. Blair had actually already known her name—it had been in the manila file Eric had given to her. She shook Natasha’s hand. From the info Wilde had gathered, Natasha had been there since the island first opened to guests.

  While Natasha’s boss Carthright knew that Wilde agents were going in undercover on his island, none of the staff at Turquoise knew their true identities. Mostly because there was a damn good chance that one of the staff members—or multiple members—had been involved in the abductions.

  Linc released Blair long enough to shake Natasha’s hand.

  “How is your bungalow?” Natasha inquired with a serene smile. Her bright green gaze sparkled. “Everything to your liking?”

  “No.” Linc’s voice came out a little hard. “Some idiot put strawberries in the room. My wife doesn’t eat strawberries.”

  Natasha blinked. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I—”

  “I’m allergic,” Blair added with a quick, apologetic grin. She knew she was supposed to play the friendly spouse—the friendly, non-threatening one—while Linc was, ah, the opposite. “I should have notified the staff.”

  Natasha’s eyes widened. “I will make a note of that right away.” She hurried back to her desk.

  No computer there. She pulled out a notebook. Blair leaned closer. Saw the names as Natasha flipped through the pages. Wait, there was—

  Helen Vorten.

  Natasha turned more pages. Got to the page with Blair and Linc’s name—

  She scribbled something down quickly.

  Oh, we will totally be stealing that notebook.

  Natasha glanced up. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Other allergies?”

  “I’m good.” Even better now that I know about your magic notebook. “But you know what? I would love a tour of this building. It would be wonderful to see what amenities are offered.”

  “Of course.” Natasha pushed her notebook—with a soft moleskin cover—into the top desk drawer. She locked the drawer and pocketed the key. “Come this way. I will be happy to personally escort you around.” She beamed at Linc. A smile that seemed a little extra warm. “And if you think of anything else you’d like—anything at all—please do let me know.”

  ***

  “That tour was shit,” Linc complained. “A restaurant and a spa. I knew that even before we went inside.”

  They were back in the lobby. “You’re just mad because there wasn’t a security room in this building.”

  “Damn straight, I am. Now I have to go out looking for it later. Pain in my ass.”

  “Aw, someone seems down.” Blair sent him a fake pout. Natasha had been called back to the kitchen just a moment before. “Bet I can perk you up,” Blair said.

  “How?” He didn’t look perked up. Not yet, anyway.

  Blair lifted her right hand, revealing the key she’d snagged while Natasha hadn’t even noticed.

  His expression immediately brightened. “I fucking love you.”

  Blair blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I meant that I love your mad, bad pickpocketing skills. Now let’s hurry before she comes back.”

  Blair had the drawer open and the notebook in her hands seconds later.

  “Perfect,” Linc purred as she shut the drawer and locked it back.

  Blair knew they’d have to return the notebook that night and—

  Linc pulled her into his arms. His mouth pressed onto hers even as he pulled the notebook between their bodies.

  Her lips parted for him. He was kissing her with a wild, hot focus—just as she’d told him he should kiss her—and Blair could actually feel her knees doing a little jiggle. A totally unplanned jiggle. She was not supposed to feel that way. No way should she be reacting like—

  “Well, I guess you two will definitely be wanting to get back to your honeymoon bungalow, hmm?” Natasha’s amused voice intruded.

  Linc lifted his head. “Thanks for the tour,” his voice was guttural and his eyes didn’t leave Blair’s face. “We’ll come back to the spa tomorrow. Get a couple’s massage or something.” He pulled Blair against him and headed for the door. As they hurried out, he kept the notebook hidden in front of his body.

  Natasha wouldn’t be able to see it at all. The man’s sleight of hand game was always a thing to behold.

  And so was his kiss.

  Once outside, they hurried toward the fountain. “We have to get it back before she notices that it’s gone.” Linc’s voice was low.

  “Well, I still have the key, so that will buy us some time.” Unless Natasha had a backup. “If she goes looking for the key, she’ll probably just think she misplaced it somewhere.”

  Linc glanced back. “She’s leaving, too. Looks like she’s calling it a night.”

  Blair’s breath expelled in a relieved rush. “Then she won’t notice the notebook is gone anytime soon. We just have to put it back before she returns in the morning.”

  Linc smiled down at her. “Piece of cake.”

  Blair’s heartbeat did a quick stutter, and her panties might have melted a wee bit. “P-piece of cake.”

  Oh, God, I can still taste him.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m sleeping in the bed.”
<
br />   Blair glanced up. Linc had just returned from recon work—AKA, returning Natasha’s key to a convenient place where she could find it and taking back the notebook. The notebook had certainly been interesting. Filled with tidbits about all of the guests, both past and present. They’d greedily scanned the details. Natasha liked to keep track of all appointments held by her guests. Certainly made sense seeing as how she managed everything but…

  Knowing all of the appointment times and locations—locations for facials and spas and personal workout sessions—that meant that Natasha always knew where her guests were going to be, and she knew which locations would be vulnerable. Knew when the guests would be vulnerable, too.

  So while Linc might have suspicions about the butler, Blair thought Natasha Frank was looking good as a chief suspect.

  “Did you hear me?” He stood at the foot of the bed. “Because you’re still doing a starfish impersonation and taking up the whole bed. You need to make room for me.”

  “You can’t sleep on the floor?”

  “I can if I want to feel like shit in the morning. You need me at top form, so scoot.”

  She swallowed and scooted.

  He immediately slid into bed with her. The man took up way too much space.

  “Tell me that you’re keeping your pajama pants on,” she groused.

  “Why? Did you want me to take them off?”

  “No! I just said—”

  He laughed. It was a husky, rumbling sound. Sensual. “I’m wearing jogging pants. Which you should have seen. But anyway, yes, I’ll keep them on. Unless you ask me to take them off.”

  She closed her eyes. “I will not ask.”

  “Pity.”

  Blair cracked open one eye. “Do not do that, okay?”

  He rolled onto his side. His hair was tousled and sexy and stubble covered his hard jaw. “Do what?”

  “Flirt. Tease. It’s awkward enough being in bed with you—”

  “Doesn’t have to be awkward.”

  Yes, it did. She swallowed and pulled the covers up a bit higher. She was wearing shorts and a tank top. Hardly the most seductive clothes of the century. She opened her other eye. “We’re in bed together. If it’s not awkward, how else would you describe it?”