Miss you greatly,
Chloe
Landon gets up and heads toward the kitchen. When he returns a moment later, the contents in my glass have been replenished, and he’s carrying a bottle.
He hands me the glass and parks the bottle on the coffee table.
Whiskey—the puppy—snores on my lap, oblivious to the conversation and the storm of emotions brewing inside me: Happiness that Nikolai still cares about me and wants to keep me safe. Fear that someone wants to kill me. Disappointment that I’m nothing more than a job for Landon. Like all the men in my life, he had no intention of sticking around for the long run, even before I discovered the truth about who he is.
And those are just the main emotions.
My gaze sweeps over the living room and lands on a picture on the wall. I’m guessing it’s Landon’s family when he and his sisters were kids. There’s something familiar about the lanky, dark-haired boy in the photo.
A soul-deep longing punches me in the gut—a longing for those simpler days, back when I was a little girl who was oblivious to the truth about my family. Back when chasing butterflies and playing pirates with Nikolai filled my days.
“I’m sorry but I can’t do this,” I say. “I don’t care what’s at stake, I’m not being dragged into my family’s web of lies and illegal activities. I’d rather take my chances with whoever has the contract on me.”
“You’re getting this all wrong, Chloe. My team and I don’t play on the wrong side of the law. That’s why your cousin hired us. He knows you don’t want to return to that life, but he couldn’t exactly go to the cops either. So he called in a favor with someone he knows, a mutual friend who Nikolai knew wouldn’t betray him to the cops. I know you don’t have reason to trust me, but you do trust Ava, right?”
“Does Ava know about all this?”
“She does.”
I nod. “All right—it looks like I don’t have much choice but to trust you. For now, anyway.” Because no matter what I said a moment ago, I’m not interested in dying. No more than I am in going back to my family.
Besides, if Landon was known to the cops for being on the dark side of the law, they would’ve arrested him when they showed up at the school. “So, what now?”
“I continue to do as I’ve been hired to do.”
“Protect me like some sort of bodyguard?”
“Yes—and the part about you being my girlfriend. Like I said before, it’ll make things easier when it comes to explaining why I’m with you most of the time. More so than if we were just colleagues or friends.”
That makes sense.
“But we’ve only known each other for less than a week, and we are colleagues. No one will believe we went from meeting each other for the first time one day to practically living together a few days later.” A new realization hits me. “Does Principal Woodnut know you aren’t a real substitute teacher?”
“She does.”
“And she has no problem with that?”
“She knows why I’m working undercover. So no, she doesn’t have a problem with it.”
“Does anyone else at the school know?”
He shakes his head. “No. For now. But given the attempted kidnapping this afternoon, I’ll have to bring in my colleagues to help keep an eye on things.”
Ah, the mysterious colleagues he mentioned in the school parking lot after I was attacked. He told me he would explain once we returned to his place.
“You mean more substitute teachers? As it is, you were lucky Zoe started her maternity leave early. You won’t get so lucky with anyone else. No one is scheduled to take time off prior to the winter holidays.”
“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” he says in an equally mysterious tone. “Anyway, back to the girlfriend-boyfriend thing. Will you be okay with that?”
I swallow down more whiskey. The burn is still there, but not as strong as before. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really, but I thought I’d ask.”
I roll my eyes. “How considerate of you.”
He chuckles. “If there’s one thing you’ll learn about me, it’s that I’m a considerate man.”
Somehow, I don’t believe that.
“Well, I’m going to give the plan a hard pass,” I say. “Like I said, no one will believe I’m dating you.”
“Why not?”
“Because the entire time I’ve been teaching at the school, I haven’t once gone on a date.”
“You changed your mind when you met me.” He says it so simply, like he really does believe that would be possible.
“No one will believe that either.”
“So make them believe it. Consider it a matter of life or death.”
“I’m not a good actress,” I counter. Clearly, I’m also not a good lawyer. I can convince kindergarteners to not run around the classroom, but I can’t persuade Landon that his plan is nuttier than peanut butter.
“You don’t need to be. I’m not asking you to make out with me in the middle of the staff room…unless you want to. I wouldn’t be opposed to it if you do.” He winks at me.
I can’t help but laugh at that. “So how do we do this? Just waltz into school tomorrow and declare that we’re dating?”
He leans back against the couch. “I have no idea. I’m kind of rusty when it comes to having a girlfriend.”
Oh, goodie. An amateur.
Not that I’m a pro or anything when it comes to having a boyfriend—beyond the two-year relationship that left me with a broken heart.
“But you have had one?” I ask, a little surprised by his revelation. Rusty generally means the person has had experience with the given situation.
“I did in college, and then a more serious relationship after that. She was my last and only girlfriend.”
“Only? What happened to turn you off dating?” She must have really broken his heart or screwed with his brain.
“That’s nothing you have to concern yourself with. My past relationships have nothing to do with my ability to be your fake boyfriend.”
“I don’t know about that. Maybe you were a crappy boyfriend, and you’ll be an even crappier fake boyfriend.” My mouth tilts to one side in a challenge.
His smile matches it. “I’m sure I’ll be a quick study.”
“Hmm” is the only retort I have left in me. I down the contents of my glass in one go and hold it out for him to refill again.
He flashes me a doubtful expression.
“The last one, I promise.”
With an all-right-it’s-your-funeral glance in my direction, he picks up the half-empty bottle and pours the liquid into both glasses.
“How’s this living-together thing gonna work?” I waggle my index finger between us. There’s a slight slur to my words, but nothing to worry about. “Are we taking turns staying at each other’s homes? Maybe alternating nights and weekends?”
“You’ll be moving in with me.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like there was never a question of this being the case.
“Maybe I don’t want to move in here.” I give an unsteady wave of my hand to his living room.
It’s a lie.
Well, a partial lie.
I love what I’ve seen of his place so far. It looks like it’s been recently renovated, and even though the decorations are all masculine in design and color, the interior really is gorgeous.
“I like my apartment,” I say. “Why can’t you move in with me?”
“For several reasons. First, you have no security in your building. Anyone can easily get inside and have access to you.”
All right, he has me there.
“And what’s the other reason?”
“Your building doesn’t allow pets, and I have Whiskey to consider.”
I frown. “How do you know my building doesn’t allow pets?” He’s right, though. It doesn’t.
“Because we’ve already looked into it.”
“ ‘We’? Is this the royal ‘we’?”
“ ‘We,’ as in myself and my colleagues.”
None of this should surprise me. They’re associated with my cousin, after all. He’s one of those individuals who would never leave a stone unflipped. To do so would be sloppy.
Our grandfather taught us that.
I glance down at Whiskey and gently stroke his soft head. That would be one perk of staying here. I’d get to have this sweet puppy in my life for a spell.
“How long are we talking about when it comes to us living together?” I ask.
“For however long it takes until the individuals who ordered the contract on you are in jail, and the ones who were hired to kill you meet the same fate.”
I shudder at his words and sip my whiskey.
Oh, screw that.
I take a long draw of the body-numbing beverage. “So, we’re talking a few days to a few weeks?”
“Something like that.”
And what happens afterward? He leaves, and a new substitute teacher is brought in to replace him.
And everyone knows that I was dumped.
Oh, joy.
“What if we kept our fictitious relationship a secret?” I suggest.
“Then there’s no point being in a fictitious relationship. We could just carry on as is. But we want whoever has a contract on you to know you’re not a sitting duck. We want them to know you have a boyfriend who will make their life more challenging if they try anything.”
“Wouldn’t me having a bodyguard do the same thing?”
“If people think you have a bodyguard, it will result in too many questions. Questions we’d rather weren’t asked. Plus, we want to draw out the person who is trying to kill you and put them away. That will be more difficult if they know my team is armed and dangerous. Then they’re less likely to make mistakes and get caught.”
I mull this over for a few seconds. Everything he said makes sense. But what do I know? I’m just a kindergarten teacher. “How’s he doing? Nikolai?”
A shadow of some unlabeled emotion flickers briefly on Landon’s face. “When was the last time you talked to him?”
I shrug. “Not for a few years. Not since I walked away from my family because I didn’t like what they stood for.”
“He’s doing fine. That’s all I can tell you.”
I want to ask him if Nikolai misses me as much as I miss him, but I don’t bother.
I’m not really sure if I want to know the answer.
12
Landon
I hate this.
I hate lying to Chloe, but I don’t have a choice. I’m doing this to protect her—or so I keep telling myself.
I hadn’t planned on telling her that Nikolai hired us to protect her. She was the one who thought he had, and all I could do was go along with it. It seemed like the best way to discover if he’s been in touch with her. But based on her answers and reactions, that would be a big no.
So basically, the one person we were hoping could lead us to him is as clueless about where he’s located as we are.
Our only hope now is that he’ll try to contact her—since he knows she’s hanging out with one of the individuals responsible for his grandfather being in prison.
Note to self: Tell Ava that Chloe thinks Liam and his team are working for Chloe’s cousin.
Yep, Liam’s going to kill me for dragging his wife further into this mess, but there’s not much I can do about that. I’m doing the job we were hired to do.
Chloe gulps down the contents of her glass. I remove it from her hands and set it on the table next to the half-empty bottle. She’s already had three drinks, and she doesn’t come off as someone who regularly consumes alcohol.
I don’t want her to regret it tomorrow when she has to teach a bunch of noisy kindergarteners.
“Since you’re moving into my town house for the time being,” I say, “we should pick up some of your things from your apartment.”
She flops her head against the back of the couch. “God, this is such a mess. How will I explain this to anyone? Kiera will think I’ve gone insane.”
“I don’t give a damn what everyone thinks. You’re my number one priority. And I bet Whiskey doesn’t give a damn either.” I nod at the snoring puppy asleep on Chloe’s lap. “I can guarantee he’ll be happy you’re my new roommate.”
Chloe laughs. “You might be right about that. He seems to want to adopt me as his personal pillow. He’s definitely the single perk in all this.” She grins at me, the weariness from earlier after she was attacked fading slightly at the edges.
She might be grinning, but the humor from a few seconds ago vanishes from inside me. The flash of fear that coursed through me when I witnessed the man dragging her to her feet still lingers like the stench of ripe stilton cheese.
But that momentary fear wasn’t the only emotion I experienced at the time. Pride had swooped in when she hit him in the back of the knees. Now, that was a whole new level of hotness.
She’s a whole new level of hotness.
“By the way, thank you,” I say. “I was the one who was supposed to save your life, and you’re the one who saved mine.”
Yes, the caveman inside me grunts at that.
But even the caveman has to concede it was worth it to see Chloe in action.
“You’re welcome,” she says.
“But how about we don’t make that a habit. I’m supposed to keep you safe, and I can’t do that if you’re going to try to be a hero.”
She stares at me for a long second. “So, the next time that happens, I’m supposed to just stand there and watch someone almost kill you?”
I smirk at her. “Didn’t realize you like me that way.” Then I turn serious. “Do you know how many people die each year playing hero?” My words release as a growl, startling both Chloe and Whiskey.
He eyes me with confusion and barks.
“That’s right,” Chloe says to him, her tone sweet and silly. “The big bad control-freak has a problem when a woman has to rescue him.”
She’s partly right. I do like to be in control. When I’m not, it feels like a billion ants crawling all over me, nipping at my skin. Leaving me itchy.
But I’m definitely not a control freak.
Much.
“I’ve been hired to protect you,” I remind her, “not the other way around.”
“You obviously don’t know me very well. If someone needs help, I’m not walking away and pretending they don’t.”
Which makes her the opposite of her family. The only ones they’re truly willing to help are themselves. If they do help you, it’s always at a cost.
I push myself to my feet and offer her my hand. “C’mon. Let’s go to your apartment to pick up your stuff.”
She peers up at me. “You really must think highly of yourself if you believe a woman will want to move in with you after one date.”
“Ha! So you are admitting yesterday was a date.”
“Given what I now know, I can say, without a smidgeon of doubt, yesterday in no way can be construed as a date.” She laughs softly, then her gaze drops to her lap—and the sleeping furball there. “I don't think I can go anywhere. I don’t want to disturb him.”
“I’m sure he’ll get over it, especially once you move in with me.” I gently scoop up Whiskey. He peers at me with a doozy expression and yawns. “Bedtime, boy.”
At Chloe’s apartment door, I take her key from her and enter first. “Stay right here,” I tell her, pointing to where I want her to park herself while I check the rooms.
I return a few minutes later, satisfied the place is safe for now.
“Okay, you can start packing,” I tell her.
“How long will I be staying at your place?”
“I’d say to count on it for a few weeks. Maybe a month.” Or longer.
“A month?” She practically squeaks it. “I can’t live with you for a month.”
“If it means keeping you safe, you can live with me for a year if need be.”
&n
bsp; Her eyes widen, panic shining in them like the powerful rays from a lighthouse. “I never even lived with my ex-boyfriend before he’d had enough of me and vanished from my life.”
“Are you afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
A sexy blush spreads across her cheeks, but she lifts her chin in equally sexy defiance. “I can promise you I won’t have a problem keeping my hands off you.” She walks into her bedroom.
“I notice you didn’t make me promise to keep my hands off you,” I say, chuckling as I follow after her.
She swivels around to me. “I assumed that wouldn’t be an issue.”
She’s right about that. Not because I don’t want to touch her. Because, fuck, there’s nothing I want more right now than to see if her skin feels as soft as it looks. But I’m also a professional, which means keeping my hands and all other body parts to myself.
“Did you know Tabitha was in your building last night?” I ask. “Do you have any idea why?”
“She was?” Chloe doesn’t even look in my direction when she replies. She removes a suitcase from her closet.
“Has she been here any time other than that?”
She places the suitcase on the bed and opens her top drawer. “Not that I know of. But it’s not like I’m watching the front door twenty-four seven.”
“Does she know you live here?”
“She might,” Chloe says, rummaging through the drawer. “I have no idea what personal information the PTA is privy to.”
She pauses what she’s doing, arms full of panties and other unmentionables, and turns to scowl at me.
I catch a view of black lace and light pink satin before discreetly turning away. The last thing I need is the image in my brain of her wearing them.
Too late, my brain warns.
“How do you know she was here?” Chloe asks. “Were you stalking me?”
“No. I went home after the restaurant,” I say, mentally scrubbing the image from my mind of Chloe in the bra and panties, and shift my attention to the various framed animated woodland animals on the wall. Chloe’s artwork. “But one of my colleagues has been watching your building for the past few days. He spotted her going inside.”
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 9