by Beth Yarnall
Dedication
To my Super Agent, my husband, Mr. Y., for buying into and supporting every single one of my crazy Lucy and Ethel schemes…including the one where I thought I could write a book.
And to my sister, Sarah Pirch, for being the very best sibling in the world. Thank you, Sarah Sister!
Chapter One
The way a man chewed his food should not have been sexy, but watching Super Agent slide a bite of broccoli between his lips, then slowly withdraw the fork, was hotter than that Forty-Eight Colors of Carnal book that may or may not be stuffed under my pillow at this very moment.
He stabbed another piece and I snatched up my wine glass. Really, was it too much to ask for the man to have a flaw? Just one. Or a quirk. I’d even settle for a quirk, like whistling his S’s or hoarding sugar packets or something.
FBI Special Agent Clive Poole, aka Super Agent, and I had been dating officially for several months now. I wasn’t counting the weeks he’d been my bodyguard and we’d kinda, sorta ripped each other’s clothes off while he was assigned by the FBI to protect me from the man-stealing man-slut who’d been out to kill me. I also wasn’t counting the time I’d bent the bedposts with him after a traumatic experience, wanting to trade one bad memory for a universe-altering night of screaming his and the Great Almighty’s name.
If I counted them, which I wasn’t, then I’d have to take a hard look at the huge mutant moth holes in my moral fabric. And I couldn’t keep ignoring the raging desire to repeat the experience, right here on top of the pristine white tablecloth, right now with the entire upper crust of Scottsdale as an audience.
“Want more wine?”
I set down the glass I’d been sucking on like a nursing infant to find Super Agent watching me with a mixture of bemusement and concern.
“No,” I said to him. “I want to be fully sober when you strip me bare and do things to me that would embarrass a prostitute.”
His fork clattered against his plate and bounced onto the floor. “Are you serious?”
He had to ask because I was kinda known to act on impulse and then regret the whole business in the cool light of day. He’d made me promise that the next time we twisted the sheets it would be thoroughly thought-out, all options weighed, completely premeditated, totally intentional sex.
“Yup.” I took out my cell phone and showed him how I’d keyed it into my calendar as an hourly event starting in five minutes.
He shot a hand in the air. “Check please!” He shoved his credit card at the waiter as soon as he appeared. “There’s an extra twenty in it for you if you run it and come back within sixty seconds.”
The waiter snatched the card and took off.
Super Agent eyed me as though I was a magician’s trick he was trying to follow. He had that hot-cop thing going on from the top of his cleanly shaven head down to his slightly scuffed wingtips and everywhere in between. I knew for a fact he was packing a lot more than a Glock under his baggy suit. And I was looking forward to being reintroduced to every well-honed, mocha-latte inch of him.
By the time the waiter returned, I had my bag over my shoulder and was already halfway to the door before Super Agent caught up with me.
Placing a hand low on my back he mumbled in my ear, “You might want to call in sick to work tomorrow right now. What I have planned for you is going to take longer than one night.”
“You have a dirty, dirty mouth. I hope you’re going to use it for more than boasting.”
“Count on it.”
Who needed roses and chocolates with a promise like that? Within minutes we were in his car, breaking speed limits. I dug my phone out of my bag and scrolled through my contacts for my new department manager’s phone number. Before I could hit Call, my phone vibrated.
“Why is she calling?” I asked.
“Who?”
“My brother’s girlfriend.”
I hardly knew her, and it wasn’t our birthday for another five months. Our as in mine and Miguel’s. Mine and Miguel’s as in twins. Twins as in two people who barely managed to coexist long enough to escape the womb and each other.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Maggie!”
“What’s Miguel done now, Alice?” Not that I cared unless you counted the novelty factor. My brother was nothing if not ingenious at the way he could screw up his life.
“He’s gone.”
“Uh-huh.” What did she expect me to do? Miguel went through women like he went through social security numbers.
“Maggie, he’s vanished.”
“Yeah, I got that part.” Really, this girl needed to get aboard the Dumped Train and enjoy the ride along with all of Miguel’s other castoffs.
“I think something bad’s happened to him.”
Okay, this wasn’t the first time Miguel had left a girl hanging. I’d walked home more times than I could count from places where Miguel was supposed to have picked me up. And this wasn’t the first girl I’d talked through Miguel’s revolving door. By now I’d memorized the speech.
“Alice, you’re a wonderful person.” I caught Super Agent’s eye-roll out of the corner of my eye. He’d heard me give this speech before. “He doesn’t deserve you. One day you’ll see that—”
“He didn’t dump me. I think he may have been kidnapped…or killed.”
And this wasn’t the first time I’d heard perfectly sane, articulate and attractive women excuse my brother’s rotten behavior with an old-fashioned conspiracy theory.
“He’s not kidnapped or murdered. He’s just an asshole.”
Super Agent chuckled.
“He didn’t dump me. He loves me. We were making plans for the fu—”
“Miguel doesn’t do futures unless we’re talking stocks.” Alice let out a sob, and my gut twisted for her. I hated Miguel for putting her—and me—through this.
“Please, Maggie.”
I gave Super Agent a wistful side-glance and sighed. Miguel was going to pay for this. “What do you want me to do?” I asked Alice.
Super Agent shook his head and flipped a U-turn back toward downtown Scottsdale.
“Come meet me at his apartment and you’ll see what I mean,” Alice said.
“Fine.” Oh! Miguel was so going to pay. “We’re on our way.”
I called Miguel’s cell number about eighty times, threatening new and inventive ways I’d hurt him with every message I left. In between I called his friend Eric, who hadn’t heard from my brother for a few days. Next I tried my mom. No luck there unless you counted her extracting a promise from me to bring Super Agent over to dinner on Sunday so she could finally meet him. I went through Miguel’s ex-girlfriends, drinking buddies and old juvie pals. Nada.
We pulled up to Miguel’s apartment in a neighborhood way beyond his supposed means, whatever that happened to be this week. The sharp, modern angles of the building and the high-tech, glass-and-steel structure reminded me of my slickly polished brother. It was just like him to surround himself with wealth he didn’t come close to possessing.
Super Agent cut the engine. “I’ll give you five minutes to sort out Miguel’s drama with Alice.”
“And then what? You’ll throw me over your shoulder and carry me back to your lair?”
“Something like that.”
With lines like that was it any wonder I was crazy about him?
Alice opened the door as we came up the steps. “Finally! Come in, come in.”
I didn’t know how my brother hit a homerun every single time, but he somehow managed to have steadily, increasingly beautiful girlfriends. One after the other they just got more and more stunning. Alice had
to be the top of the pinnacle with her gorgeous long red hair and ivory complexion. This was only the second time I’d met her—which was a new record—and I could’ve sworn she’d gotten more beautiful since the last time I’d seen her.
Super Agent went slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. I hit him in the stomach with the back of my hand. “This is Clive,” I told Alice, glaring at my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. “He’ll be sleeping alone tonight.”
“Hi.” Alice gave Super Agent about a second of her attention, then turned back to me. “I’m so glad you’re here, Maggie. I’ve been so worried.”
“Yeah, I got that. When was the last time you saw him?”
“Tuesday morning. We were supposed to meet for dinner after work, but he never showed. The police let me file a missing person report, but there hasn’t been any news.” Her eyes got all watery, and if it was possible I hated my brother a little more for it.
“Is there anything missing from the apartment?”
“A suitcase and some clothes.” She swiped at the tear running down her perfect cheek. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“No, I don’t think you do. Unless you’re wondering how Miguel is going to eat and wipe his ass with two broken arms.”
She laughed. “You sound just like Miguel.”
“That’s not going to win you any points with her,” Super Agent pointed out to Alice. “When was the last time anyone heard from or saw Miguel?”
“I’ve pinned it down to five PM on Tuesday when he left his office,” Alice said. “The last person to see him was the security guard as Miguel walked out the door. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
The one thing Miguel loved most in this world was being seen and heard from. A slow, insidious slip of dread snaked its way through my chest. Call it twin-tuition, call it a gut feeling, but I believed Alice. Something bad had happened to my brother.
Chapter Two
“You can’t be serious,” Super Agent said.
“As serious as the ass-kicking Miguel’s going to get when I see him.” I’d asked Super Agent for the teeny, tiny favor of putting Miguel on the FBI’s missing persons list. “Pleeeeeease?”
“You really think there’s foul play here?” Super Agent obviously didn’t.
“Yeah. I kinda do.”
“Fine.” His gaze dropped to the front of my dress where cleavage ran free. “You’re lucky you’re so damn sexy.”
“And you’re lucky you just said that.”
Super Agent moved to the desk in the corner of Miguel’s bedroom. We’d promised Alice we’d go through Miguel’s things to look for clues she might have missed. I was sorting through Miguel’s closet, which smelled faintly of him, reminding me of the last time I’d seen my brother.
He’d stopped by to ask me if he could borrow my car for a few days with some excuse about his tires being too bald to make the long trip he intended to take. I think he knew I’d just washed and gassed it up. As usual I gave in to him. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t blame him for it. There was just something about his smile and the way his gaze moved over your face, taking everything in like a search beam. He’d let his hair grow long, nearly to his shoulders and it had tickled my nose when I’d hugged him goodbye.
“Thanks for the loan of the car, sis.”
“Just don’t crash it.”
He started down my front walk and then turned back. “Do you think I could ask one more favor?”
“You always do.”
His laugh was off center, tilting toward self-deprecating. “Yeah, I guess I do.” He glanced down at my car key in his hand, then back up at me. His expression bothered me, but I couldn’t put a finger on why then or now. Maybe because it was so unlike him as was the favor he was about to ask. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
The morning sunlight picked up the burnt red in his dark hair and bleached his blue eyes nearly white. I was struck by how much he looked like our dad, and it made my chest hurt.
“I was wondering how your brother managed to get Alice, this house, this life,” Super Agent said, drawing my attention back to the here and now. “He’s got no discernable income and a rap sheet as long as my right leg. Not to mention the fact that he’s a con man. She seems—”
“Too good for him?”
“I was going to say too smart to fall for his B.S.”
“You got all that from the optical groping you gave her?”
He stopped rifling through Miguel’s desk to glance up at me. “I’m a trained observer. It’s my job.”
“You’re also a dude with working dude parts. At least I assume they’re working. Not that I’ll get to find out tonight.”
“Nah-ah. We have a schedule to keep.” He checked his watch. “We’re already more than half an hour behind. But we can catch up if we leave soon.”
“Like I said, working dude parts.”
“I still don’t get why you think he’s missing. There’s nothing here that would lead to that possibility. No sign of foul play, no ransom note or phone call…nothing.”
I pulled my head out of the closet and closed the door. He was right; this was a complete bust. “You’re going to think this is nuts.”
“Coming from you? No doubt.”
“You just got docked an hour, buddy. No make-ups.”
“Aww, come on. You’ve got to admit that you live at the center of a vortex that seems to funnel nothing but trouble your way.”
He had a point. I seemed to be a magnet for messed-up tragedy lately. What with getting accused of murdering my ex-Arizona-state-senator boyfriend, nearly being murdered by an FBI-wanted transvestite, being the object of a stalker who’d killed my annoying coworker as some kind of tribute, and being on probation. But I was still docking him the hour for pointing all of that out to me.
“Are you done insulting me?” At his nod I continued. “It’s because of the twin thing. I can’t really explain it, but it’s like there’s this other part of me that’s not me.”
“Like a phantom limb?”
“Yeah, kinda exactly like that. Sometimes I can feel him, like that time when we were ten and he broke his arm. I got a really sharp pain in my arm in nearly the same place at the same time. Same thing happened when we walked in here. I got the feeling that Miguel is in over his head and that he didn’t just run, he’s hiding. He’s in some kind of trouble. I just don’t know what it is.”
“Okay, so who would know what he’s been into lately? Does he have any friends or associates? I can pull his sheet and see who he’s been in trouble with before.”
“Just like that? You believe me?”
“Yeah.”
“Congratulations. You got your hour back.”
We finished going through Miguel’s condo and even though I found all his hidey-holes—which really impressed Super Agent—we didn’t find anything that would give us a lead on Miguel’s whereabouts. We said our goodbyes to a teary-eyed Alice and headed to my apartment across town.
Once there, Super Agent immediately got on the phone and worked his FBI-Special-Agent magic to put Miguel on the FBI’s missing persons list and to pull up his rap sheet. He’d been right. Miguel’s arrest record was longer than anybody’s leg. I had no idea he’d been arrested so many times. Not all of the charges had stuck, which made Super Agent frown. It was kinda cute how he thought every arrest should lead to a conviction, or at the very least some jail time and parole.
Which was pretty ironic considering I was currently on probation without having served any jail time. We almost never discussed my reduced charge of disturbing a crime scene or the fact that I could be sitting in a cell for additional weapons charges. The gun had been registered…just not in my name. The police were such sticklers for that kind of thing. But thanks to my helping the FBI capture the murderer of a state senator and an internationally wanted fugitive I’d only gotten one year of probation.
“There is one name that’s popped up a few times in connect
ion with Miguel’s,” Super Agent said.
He was drinking coffee, his feet propped up on my coffee table as if he was prepping for an all-nighter. The thought of what Super Agent could do to me in a whole night made me want to forget my wayward brother and get to the part where he reactivated my dormant lady parts.
“Sergei Levkova.”
That name sent a chill through me, blasting away all my other thoughts. Talk about your past coming back to bite you in the ass. Sergei Levkova. I’d briefly thought to call him when I was running through the list of my brother’s friends—his name was still in my cell phone. I’d transferred it into three different phones yet I hadn’t spoken to him in more than three years. For good reason. I’d put him firmly behind the door marked Only open in case of severe emergency or complete insanity.
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Super Agent asked.
Here was the part where I could stare at the ceiling, whistling, or I could come clean.
He grunted. “That’s why.” He turned his laptop so I could see the screen, his FBI-Special-Agent gaze scanning my expression like a laser lie detector. “He shows up on your arrest record too.”
Sergei Levkova had contributed to more than my arrest record, but that was something I couldn’t discuss with Super Agent.
“We used to hang out,” I hedged.
He eyed me some more and I was pretty sure he knew I was hiding something. “Did you know he and Miguel own a business together?”
“No.” There was a reason why I didn’t keep close tabs on my brother and an even bigger reason why I wouldn’t follow whatever he and Sergei had cooked up together.
“Vasili Investments. It looks like it’s some kind of investment brokerage firm that boasts high returns. Hmm.”
He clacked away on his keyboard some more. I was at the edge of my seat now with the feeling of leaning over my own grave. I sent a frantic, fruitless prayer that he wouldn’t dig too far into Sergei or my relationship with him. That was a Pandora’s box that should never be reopened. But I knew enough about Super Agent to know he wouldn’t stop digging until he had all of his questions answered. And the man never ran out of questions.