by LENA DIAZ,
“Pop the hood. You’ll see.” He checked his watch. “Forty-two minutes and counting. Don’t let me down, Savage. The owner’s fanaticism about bringing that car in for the slightest little hiccup pays my light bill every month. I can’t afford to lose his business.” He strode toward the other side of the garage where another mechanic was replacing brake pads beneath a truck on a hydraulic lift.
When Ian raised the Mustang’s hood, he immediately knew why his boss had sent his novice apprentice out on deliveries. If the kid had been standing here right now, Ian would have blistered his pride with a lecture that would have had his ears ringing the rest of the day. Not because of the damage to the car—a melted distributor cap and wires. Those were easily fixed. Ian wasn’t even angry that the kid had installed the carburetor float upside down, which must have been what had caused gas to shoot up and coat the distributor cap. What had him fuming was the source of the spark that had started the fire—a charred half-smoked cigarette butt lying on top of the battery. The foolish kid was lucky he hadn’t killed himself, or at the least ended up with debilitating burns. Ian’s brother Colin had spent months in a burn center after saving some people from a burning building and was left with deep scars on his arms and chest. Ian wouldn’t want anyone to suffer the way his brother had. He shook his head in disgust and got to work.
By the time the Mustang’s owner arrived, the engine was purring like a kitten and all evidence of the fire had been removed. Sanders nodded his approval from across the bay. But it was clear as the day wore on that Ian still wasn’t forgiven for being late and, in Sanders’s mind, almost losing him a treasured repeat client. Every mind-numbingly dull and dirty job that came in was routed to Ian. He was so busy he could barely catch his breath, although he did stop several times to take more pain pills. It was that or admit defeat.
His left arm was throbbing when he noticed the sun was sinking on the horizon outside the open bay doors. It was quitting time. But he still hadn’t heard from Wolverine. After washing the grime off his hands and clocking out, he knew why. Wolverine didn’t need to call in order to reach Ian. He was already here, lounging in his bright yellow VW across the street in Sanders’s overflow gravel lot.
Fast-food bags tossed onto the ground outside the car told the story. He’d been performing surveillance on Ian all day, and Ian had been too consumed pushing through the pain of his wrenched arm to even realize it. Having Butch’s thug spying on him wasn’t half as alarming as the fact that he hadn’t noticed. That kind of mistake could get him killed.
He nodded goodbye to some of the guys from the shop, promised his boss he’d call the next time he was running late, then headed across the street. He idled his Charger beside the VW and rolled down his driver’s-side window.
“What’s with the cloak-and-dagger spy routine, Wolverine? If you wanted to talk to me, all you have to do is step into the shop.”
Wolverine grinned. “Cloak-and-dagger. I like that.”
Ian arched a brow, his patience nonexistent after the pain-filled, aggravating day he’d had. What a waste. He had precious little time remaining to bring this case to a close or all of his months of undercover would be for nothing. “I’m tired and hungry and have to give my buyer an update. Do we have a deal or not?”
“Whoa. Chill, bro.” He cocked his head as if studying Ian. “You seem really stressed out, man. When’s the last time you and that hot chick next door hooked up?”
Cold fear shot through Ian. Had Butch seen Shannon? Did he recognize her from the truck stop and think she was a threat, that maybe she knew too much? He kept his expression bland and rolled his eyes.
“If you’re talking about my duplex neighbor, the answer is never. I’m not her type.”
Wolverine’s brows shot up. “A handsome dude like you? You expect me to believe that?”
Ian gave him a droll look. “I don’t have the right kind of plumbing for her, if you get my meaning.”
Wolverine grinned again. “She likes chicks, huh? Dang. That makes me hot.”
“I have better things to do than discuss your fetishes. And I’m not wasting another minute on you or your boss. We’re done here.” He shifted into Drive.
“Hold it, hold it.” He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Man, you really are uptight tonight, aren’t you?”
“Wolverine—”
“Okay. All right. Butch told me if no red flags were raised today, and he didn’t call with anything from his side, that the deal is on. Eleven o’clock at a warehouse outside of town.” He gave Ian the address. “Bring a truck and the money. You get there one minute late, no deal. There will be guns trained on you the moment you enter the parking lot. Bring someone with you, try anything at all, you’re a dead man. Understood?”
Wolverine’s transition from his usual jovial, silly personality to a threatening, deadly serious persona had the hairs rising on the back of Ian’s neck, and alarm bells going off in his head.
Suddenly Wolverine grinned. “Did I do that good? Butch told me to try to keep it serious for once.” He laughed and popped a french fry into his mouth, then grimaced and spit it out. “Old and cold. Well, what’s it gonna be? Deal or no deal?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Cool, dude. You see? All those months ago, I told you I’d get you an in. I came through, didn’t I?”
Ian smiled. “You sure did.”
“And we’ll make more deals with other buyers, right? That’s what you said you wanted when we started, an in so we could both make some cash.” He held out his hand and made the universal sign of money by rubbing his fingers together.
“No kickback until I have the girls.”
Wolverine shrugged. “That’s fine. But you better slip me my finder’s fee without alerting Butch tonight. He realizes I’m getting money from both sides, I’m toast.” He gave a dramatic shiver, then laughed and drove away.
Ian’s smile faded as he watched the taillights of the garish yellow car fade into the distance, then turn down a side street. Something was off about his neighborhood human trafficking connection. Did Wolverine know something about tonight that Ian didn’t? Was it a setup or was Butch really going to go through with the buy? Either way, Ian needed to be prepared. That meant getting a truck and backup, and making sure his fellow agents knew about the conditions that Butch had dictated, and the accompanying threats. They’d have to be very careful and precise, or someone might get killed.
He grabbed a pen and paper from his console and scribbled down some notes while he made the call to set everything in motion. “Tony’s Pizza? I’d like to order a large pizza for curbside pickup. It’s not on the menu, but one of the take-out guys—Chris—knows about it. I’ve gotten it there before. It’s called the Homeland Special.”
A few minutes later, Ian pulled into one of the curbside pickup spots on the side of the familiar redbrick building that boasted a neon sign on the roof in the shape of a slice of pizza.
It didn’t take long for the take-out door to open and a young man in black jeans and a red T-shirt with the restaurant’s logo on the front to come bopping out with a pizza box in his hands.
Ian rolled down his window. “Hey, Chris. How’s business tonight?”
The young man’s gaze locked on Ian with a seriousness that contrasted sharply with the polite smile he flashed. To anyone else in the parking lot, or watching from inside, he was simply a pizza boy. But Ian knew better.
“Hopping like always, Mr. Savage. Typical Friday night, barely enough time to catch my breath.” He held up the box in his hands. “One large Homeland Special to go. Pepperoni, bacon, extra cheese, extra sauce, New York–style crust, well-done. That’ll be—” he tilted the box to read the bottom of the ticket taped to the lid “—twenty-two fifty-seven.”
Ian set the box on the seat beside him, then pulled out his wallet. He concealed a folded piece of paper in
side a wad of bills and handed it out the window. “Keep the change.”
Chris grinned and shoved the money along with the piece of paper into his pocket. “Thanks, Mr. Savage. Always a pleasure. Enjoy.” With that, he hurried back inside.
Ian pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the duplex.
Chapter Eleven
A thumping sound had Shannon looking up from the Lisa Gardner thriller she was reading. The noise sounded again, and she realized it was coming from the hall closet. Ian. In a fit of anger, she’d locked her side of the panel too. And now he wanted to come in.
Someone with far more poise than her, someone more sophisticated, would have ignored his knock. Or at least made him wait, maybe even grovel a little bit. But Shannon was too pathetically relieved that he wanted to see her again that she ran to the closet and unlocked her side.
He slid open the door and they stood in the semidarkness looking at each other, with only the lights from their respective living rooms shining inside.
“Hey,” he breathed.
She smiled. “Hey yourself.” She moved closer, then jumped back when she hit something sharp.
He grinned and held up a pizza box. “Sorry. I think you ran into the corner. You okay?”
She rubbed her chest. “Slain by cardboard. I think I’ll live. Is that a peace offering?”
“Pepperoni, bacon, extra sauce, extra cheese.”
“You’re not playing fair. That’s my favorite.”
His grin widened. “I know.” He held it toward her, his smile fading. “I didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms earlier. I was a jerk, and I’m sorry. You’re welcome to take this and enjoy it by yourself. I wouldn’t blame you if you do.”
“I’m not that petty. There’s enough to share. Come on.”
He followed her inside as she took the box to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. She used to have only one bar stool. But after he’d moved in next door, she’d hoped the gorgeous man would come over sometime, so she’d gotten another one. It was one of the best buying decisions she’d ever made. They’d shared many a pizza on this bar top while sitting on these bar stools.
She tossed some paper plates and napkins beside the box. “I see you aren’t wearing your sling. Your arm can’t be all better this fast.”
“I can’t do my job with the sling on. I’m taking pain pills when I need to.” When she started to protest, he interrupted her. “I’m okay, Shannon. Honestly. But thanks for the concern.”
She sighed and opened the refrigerator. “Want a beer? Wine?”
He shook his head. “Water’s fine.”
She hesitated. While Ian was never a heavy drinker, he rarely said no to a beer to go with his pizza. “Something going on tonight?” She handed him a water bottle and took the stool beside him.
As he set a piece on her plate, he arched a brow in question. “What do you mean?”
“No alcohol. Are you...are you still on the clock? As in doing special-agent kind of stuff?” Her eyes widened. “Is it Maria and the others? You finally made a deal?”
She waited impatiently for him to chew and swallow the bite of pizza he’d taken.
“A deal is in the works,” he admitted, sounding reluctant. “But I’m not going to discuss it. You know far too much about me as it is. It’s not safe for you to know more.”
“I’m not trying to get in the way or put myself in danger. But if you’re going to rescue Maria and the others soon, I’d like to be there, to help with their transition.”
“There will be counselors for them as soon as we get them out of danger.”
She shook her head. “Take it from someone who knows. It would take months, maybe longer, for someone coming out of that life to learn to trust someone enough to talk about it. In the meantime, they’ll be scared, confused. Having someone who’s been through what they’ve been through could really help. Use me. Seriously. I want to do this. Can’t I wait somewhere close by? Then as soon as you have the bad guys in cuffs, let me come out? I haven’t seen Maria in so long. I need to see her, talk to her, tell her—”
He stood and tossed his half-eaten piece onto his plate. “Coming over was a mistake. As soon as I have something concrete on your friend, I’ll let you know.”
Regret had her chasing after him and jumping in front of the closet door. “Ian. Wait. I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight again.”
He braced his good arm on the door frame. “I can’t discuss the case or any plans I’m making.”
“I know. I understand, really. I’m disappointed, but I get it.” She gave him a friendly tap on the chest. “Come on. I was so upset this morning I called out at work. This is basically the first day I’ve had off in two weeks. Let’s not ruin it by being angry with each other.” She held out her hand toward his. “Eat some more pizza with me. Maybe watch a movie on TV. We’ll pretend we’re two normal people without any baggage or secret-agent jobs between us and just enjoy each other. Okay?”
He smiled and then kissed her on the forehead before taking her hand. “All right. Dinner and a movie. No work talk.”
They both stuck to their agreement, and before long they were laughing and talking and then tucked in close beside each other on the couch with a blanket over the both of them as they watched one of her favorite movies—Sabrina. It was the original, the black-and-white one with Audrey Hepburn. It never failed to make her cry, both sad tears and happy ones when the girl got her guy at the end.
With all those feelings swirling around inside, when she looked up at the gorgeous man smiling at her, she couldn’t resist pulling him down for a kiss. He accommodated her nicely, his lips moving expertly over hers, quickening her pulse and making her jealous at the same time. How many women did a guy have to kiss in his life to get this good at it? She immediately wanted to rip out their hair and thank them at the same time.
He pulled back and framed her face in his hands. “You really are beautiful, Shannon Murphy.”
Her body went all soft and warm at his words. “So are you, Ian Savage.” She blinked, some of the delicious feelings fading beneath the onslaught of reality. “I mean McKenzie. Special Agent McKenzie.” She pushed out of his arms, suddenly feeling awkward with the man who’d been her best friend until yesterday.
“Is that really such a bad thing?” His voice sounded sad.
She shrugged. “It’s going to take some getting used to. I’m still processing the fact that I’m sleeping with the enemy.” Her face heated. “So to speak. I mean, it’s not like we’ve ever...you know.” She frowned. “Why is that again?”
His brows drew down. “Imagine if we had, and then you found out who I really am. You would have felt—”
“Violated.”
He winced, then nodded. “Is that how you feel now?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, unable to meet his gaze. “Don’t be silly. Of course not. You’re not like the cops in my old life, the ones on the take, who traded sex with my mom and others in exchange for not arresting them.” She shivered at the memories. “Or ignored a little girl asking for help, telling them her mom’s boyfriends were hurting her.”
He gently tilted her chin up. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. But being a cop is like any other profession. There are good people and bad people. Thankfully, the training and oversight weed out most of the bad. I’m far from perfect, but I like to think I’m one of the good ones.”
She knew he was right, that he was one of the good ones, even if she didn’t believe that the rest of them were more good than bad. But just the reminder about who he was and that he’d fooled her for so long had anger simmering inside her again. “Maybe you should head back home now. It’s getting late.”
He glanced at the sleek black watch on his right wrist, an anachronism since most men as young as him didn’t wear a watch. She’d always wonder
ed at that before. Now she realized it was probably because of his job. No doubt he needed to be aware of the time at a moment’s notice, quicker than it took to take out his phone and check it, so he could coordinate missions with his fellow agents.
“It’s later than I realized.” He stood. “Thanks for sharing dinner and a movie with me. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Okay?”
She nodded, but she didn’t get up when he headed down the hall to the pass-through. Instead, she sat there a long time thinking about what she knew and didn’t know about Ian McKenzie. Actually, all she knew about him as McKenzie was that he worked for Homeland Security. And that he had a family—a mom, dad and three brothers. That was pretty much it. Everything she knew, or thought she knew, was about Ian Savage.
Did she really know Ian at all?
As she put her treasured DVD of Sabrina away and straightened up the kitchen, memories of times she’d spent with him flashed through her mind. He’d always been patient, kind, protective. He’d shared his smiles and always made a point of bringing her favorite pizza when he brought her dinner. She’d really been falling for that Ian. The problem was that she didn’t know which Ian was the real one.
As always when she was upset or mulling over a problem, she started cleaning. But her house was fairly clean to begin with. It was so tiny she had to keep it picked up or she’d kill herself tripping over things. It didn’t take long before it was sparkling. Of course, that meant she was back to thinking about Ian again. And Maria. And how long it would be before Maria was free. And on and on and on. She finally realized she’d never be able to relax or sleep tonight. Too much had happened in the past few days. She needed that promised talk with Ian right now, not later.
She went to the hall closet to check if he was still home and slid the panel open. She’d stepped into his side of the closet and was about to open the door when she heard a man’s voice.