Diamonds Are Truly Forever: An Agent Ex Novel 2

by Gina Robinson

  Her mom walked over to him with a tray of store-bought cookies decorated with the bedraggled mint. That homey, homegrown touch didn’t fool anyone. But Drew was polite enough to mention what a great hostess she was as he snagged a cookie.

  “Drew, I need to ask a favor,” her mother said. “I’ve been having trouble with my email all morning. Why does this always happen when Sam’s gone? Something always goes wrong. That darn old PC. Think you could pop into Sam’s study and fix it for me?” She smiled sweetly and innocently at him.

  Staci had to hand it to her—her mom was a good pretender.

  Drew arched a brow and looked at Staci. She nodded ever so slightly to indicate he was good to go.

  “No problem, Linda. Be happy to.” He snagged another cookie and bounded off toward Sam’s study with Poppy on his heels. “Where does he keep the backup copies of his software? In case I need to reload your email program.”

  Linda waved her hand airily. “Oh, who knows? His office is a complete mess. Except to use the computer, I never go in there. You’ll have to hunt them down, I’m afraid.”

  Staci looked at her mom again. She was good. She’d just given him permission to snoop and hide surveillance equipment to his heart’s content.

  * * *

  Using his iPhone and CIA apps from his perch on the sofa while the girls were chatting outside, tiptoeing through the mint leaves, Drew had already scoped the house. He’d scanned Sam’s computer using his WiFi connection, recovered the data on it, both what was present and what Sam had “erased,” and sent the encrypted files to Langley to be decoded. He knew where every single bug and camera was planted in the house. Sam had an intricate and sophisticated security setup going. Too sophisticated for the average Joe.

  He’d also known Sam wouldn’t be home and exactly where he was. NCS had been tracking him.

  When you find a bug in your home, you have three options: Leave everything in place and call the cops; disable and remove the bug, and wait to catch the eavesdropper when he shows up to install more; leave the bug in place and feed it misinformation.

  In this case, there was only one sensible option—feed the bugs bad intel. All of the bugs—the ones watching Linda and the house, and the RIOT bugs watching Sam.

  In Sam’s office, Drew got on Sam’s computer and fixed Linda’s email in fewer than five commands. He popped the Porn Stick in and began a scan as he planted his own bugs, glad he wasn’t the low-on-the-totem-pole spy who’d have the dull task of monitoring them.

  Sam’s office looked like Sam—cluttered, mounted trophy fish hanging on the walls, a glass case filled with flies Sam had tied, plaques with cutesy sayings about fishermen, fishing poles leaning against the wall in the corner, a desk, computer, an old sofa.

  Drew finished installing his bugs and cameras, riffled through Sam’s paperwork, and searched his office for other physical evidence. Nothing interesting, even in the locked file drawers Drew broke into. It was as if Sam had sanitized things or was being extremely cautious.

  Drew frowned. Until he’d returned from Hawaii this past month and received orders for this mission from Emmett, he hadn’t even been aware Sam was under Agency scrutiny. Had no idea Sam would ever dabble in espionage or sell secrets to terrorist scum.

  The Agency had begun following Sam about a year ago when low-level satellite secrets from Attitude began making their way onto the black market and RIOT chatter began indicating they were planning an attack on the satellite communications community.

  The Agency profiler singled Sam out as a potential suspect: middle-aged and nearing retirement, dissatisfied with his life, felt as if he’d been passed over for promotion and deserved more, and had access to sensitive documents. They’d planted “sensitive” secrets for Sam to steal, and he did. Sam was their man.

  Damn you, Sam.

  Drew checked the Porn Stick. All clear. At least he didn’t have to tell Linda about a porn addiction.

  He popped his CIA stick in and ran a quick scan of Sam’s financials. Poppy barked. He grabbed her and put her on his lap.

  Hardened spy that he was, his heart still slammed into his gut when he saw $210,000 of obviously laundered money pass into Sam’s account. Followed by a ten-thousand-dollar cash withdrawal a few days later. The rest was transferred to an offshore account.

  Sam had already received a down payment for his latest planned treachery and was bankrolling a nest egg.

  Did Sam know what he was up against with RIOT? How ruthless they were? RIOT had a firm, unbending policy—no exes. No ex-spouses, ex-girlfriends or -boyfriends, no former agents, and suppliers never walked away alive. Not for more than a few minutes. Did he understand SMASH’s perfect, 100 percent kill record?

  Sam would never walk away from this. Sam should count himself lucky when the Agency brought him in and stuffed him away someplace safe.

  Drew scratched Poppy behind her ears. “Come on, girl. Let’s go for a walk.”

  Linda would want a report.

  * * *

  Drew and Staci drove back to Drew’s condo from Linda’s mostly in silence. It seemed safer to stay quiet and let the sexual tension building between them fizzle out. All this pretending to be in love was excruciating on the nerves and emotions. Staci had spent the better part of the last six months tamping down the feelings she had for Drew. Now she couldn’t even look at him for fear she’d change her mind and ask to turn this fake reunion into a real one.

  Finally, they arrived back at the condo and pulled into the garage. Drew opened the condo door, took a quick glance around, and led her up the stairs. He did a quick security scan at the top of the stairs and let Staci in after him.

  Being alone with Drew was not a good idea. Not after pretending to be in love with him all afternoon.

  Staci attempted to break any mood that might have lingered between them. “Okay, so what did you really find out about Sam?”

  Drew stood next to her, so close she felt his body heat as she avoided staring into his deep blue eyes.

  He shrugged. “Mostly what I told your mom on our walk with Poppy. I didn’t see any evidence of another woman. No porn.”

  Staci frowned and stepped away from him. “Then what’s he up to?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I did.” He shook his head.

  Staci tossed her purse onto the sofa table against the entryway wall. The curtains were closed and the downstairs dark except for the overhead light in the entryway. The living room was dim and quiet. The back of the sofa loomed large and bare. It needed a plant or something behind it to break up the lines.

  “At least we didn’t have to give Mom any bad news. You should have seen the look of panic on her face when I told her about the spy gear we brought. She was afraid, really afraid, we’d find something. She’s in that awkward stage of needing to know, but not wanting to. She likes her life the way it is.”

  She turned to face him. Drew was emptying the contents of his pockets onto the kitchen counter.

  “You weren’t ever unfaithful, were you?” She hardly even knew where that question came from. She hadn’t meant to speak it aloud. She certainly didn’t mean to sound so pathetic, pleading, and needy. What difference did his fidelity make now? And how could she tell if he was telling her the truth?

  He paused and took three steps over until he stood in front of her, bare inches separating them. Either the man had no concept of personal space, or he was intent on invading hers.

  She took a deep breath. Waiting. Hoping. Trying to decide if an invasion was good or bad. It was both. But mostly it was dangerous.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and then tipped her chin up to force her to look him in the eye. “Never.” He spoke softly, in the tone he used when he pledged his life for his country. As if he was pledging his life to hers now.

  “I’ve done a lot of things, Stace. Things I’m not proud of. Things I can never tell you.” His eyes sparkled. “I’ve told more lies than truths and pretended to be a lot of things. But one
thing I never lied about was loving you. I’ve always played that straight. I never wandered.”

  She realized she was holding her breath, as blown away by the sentiment as by the melodic strains of her favorite song. Moved nearly to tears. Why did she believe him? Because she wanted to? And why did his words go straight to her heart, readying it to let her emotions out of the box and love him again?

  He leaned down, lips angled toward hers. She trembled. She should have stepped out of the way. Because kissing him would very likely lead to breaking her one-off vow about hot and heavy sex on the sofa again. And, eventually, to inevitable unhappiness with her lying life.

  But she didn’t step back. She stepped in to him. She closed her eyes and tipped her face up to meet his kiss as he slid his hands off her shoulders to rest on her waist and pulled her close.

  A cough from the living room stopped her cold.

  Drew shoved her behind him, drew his gun from whatever secret cavity he had it stashed in, and trained it toward the source of the cough.

  A man’s head popped up from behind the back of the sofa. He sat up, hands above his head. He’d obviously been lying down, hiding from them. “Don’t shoot! I surrender.”

  “Noe! You bastard,” Drew said, but his voice had a smile in it. He dropped his gun. “Don’t you ever knock?”

  “Knock? I did knock, mon ami. But no one answered. You gave me the key to your security. So I let myself in. I am welcome, no?”

  Drew walked over, slapped Noe on the back, and shook his hand. “Always. I wasn’t expecting you until later. We interrupted your nap?”

  Noe dropped Drew’s hand and laughed. “Caught napping on the job. Not so good, aye?” He spoke with a strong accent Staci finally pinned as French Canadian.

  Staci studied him. Noe was dark with prominent, almost aristocratic features. Very handsome in an arresting way. His thick, wavy hair and five o’clock shadow added to his allure. He had a charming smile and laughing eyes.

  “Ha-ha! So the rumors are true?” Noe said. “You are back with the little wifey. The Puppeteer should be glad of that.”

  It wasn’t often Staci heard someone refer to Em as the Puppeteer. She could have sworn Drew gave Noe the quickest flash of a dirty look before turning to Staci with an adoring smile and a look in his eyes pleading her to continue with the charade of being happy together again.

  No! No way. Not when I’m looking forward to dropping all pretenses and relaxing.

  “Ha-ha?” Drew shook his head and grinned. “You mean ah-ha. Ha-ha means funny.” He shrugged. “Good news travels fast.”

  “All news travels fast in our business.” Noe looked puzzled. “And that is what I said, ha-ha!” He slapped his head. “As in This is a ha-ha moment.” Noe stood up.

  Drew turned to Staci. “My Canadian friend has trouble knowing where to place his h’s.”

  “Not me. You Hamericans ’ave the trouble. Now introduce me to this charming woman.” He grinned at her.

  Drew took her arm. “Staci, meet my good friend, and Canadian Security Intelligence Service agent, Noe Tremblay.”

  “Canadian Intelligence Service? I didn’t know they had one.” The words just popped out of Staci’s mouth.

  Noe laughed.

  Drew grinned as Staci blushed. “Don’t worry. He gets that a lot.”

  “We are a venerable institution. We serve the country and Crown. God save the queen,” Noe said.

  Sometimes it was startling to Staci to remember their neighbor to the north was still part of the British Commonwealth.

  “They just aren’t as well known, or as sexy, as MI6,” Drew said.

  “I suppose you need your own Canadian version of Ian Fleming to give you a little glamour. Who do you spy on?” Staci asked, running with the good-natured teasing.

  “Us mostly,” Drew said.

  Staci laughed. “Are you afraid we’ll invade?”

  “We’re afraid you Hamericans will do something stupid and endanger us. After all, nuclear bombs and EMP weapons are not as discriminating about borders as they should be.”

  “Touché!” Staci said. She liked Noe, but couldn’t help wondering, “Will you be staying with us?”

  “For a few nights. Didn’t Drew tell you? Being old friends is part of our cover. It makes sense for me to stay with my old buddy. Besides, tonight Drew and I have late-night business to attend to.”

  Uh-oh! Stay for a few nights? She was going to have to pretend to be in love with Drew even in the privacy of his condo? For a few days! Her poor nerves and emotions would never recover.

  Somehow she kept her smile plastered on her face. She couldn’t very well ask him to sleep on the sofa. That would blow their cover as a happily reunited couple. What game was Drew playing in the intelligence community? You’d think they could come clean to a fellow spy about this ruse of being happily together.

  She hoped for a moment that Noe had been upstairs and seen her things in the guest room, that she was obviously living there. That the happy-couple cover had already been blown. But when she studied Noe, he seemed completely unaware. Or was pretending to be.

  For just a second, she considered confessing the truth. Drew must have read her thoughts. He gave her a warning look. She realized that if he had to, he’d make up an outrageous lie about why her stuff was in the guest room. And out of politeness, or professional courtesy, or the sheer convincingness of Drew’s lies, Noe would believe him. Resistance, as they say, was futile.

  “I’ll just go make up the guest room then.” She glanced at Drew.

  He seemed totally unconcerned. “Good idea, Stace.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble for me,” Noe said. “I can sleep anywhere.”

  “No trouble,” she said, smiling.

  “Wait! Before you go, let’s make our plans for tonight,” Noe said. “I’d like to try one of the fine winery restaurants Drew is always bragging to me about. How about the Dance Floor Winery? We should call for reservations?”

  Drew pulled out his phone, bringing up some kind of app.

  “I’m sorry, Noe,” Staci said. “Dance Floor is the place to go in Woodinville. You have to call months ahead.”

  Noe ignored Staci and spoke to Drew. “Make the reservations for four.” He turned and grinned at Staci. “I hope you have a hot, single woman friend you can invite along for me. I hate to be the third wheel.”

  Drew laughed. “Done. Reservations made for four. Stace, call Mandy. I’m sure she’d love to meet Noe.”

  “Wait!” Staci said. “How did you get reservations?”

  “CIA app,” Drew said.

  “Who’d you bump? That’s an abuse of power.” She shook her head. “And I’m sure Mandy’s busy.”

  “I have a feeling she’s not,” Drew said.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she supposed he had an app for clearing Mandy’s schedule and convincing her to come, too. She shut it just in time and tried another approach. “I thought you two had late-night business?” Staci arched a brow.

  “And what better way to stay awake until the wee hours of the morning for our appointment than enjoying fine food and the company of hot, beautiful women?” Noe winked.

  “Spies and their libidos.” Staci kept on smiling, though it was killing her. Her husband was a crafty one.

  Drew knew Mandy too well. She’d never pass up an evening with a man as tempting as Noe, or a chance to go to the Dance Floor Winery.

  “Just who is Noe supposed to be for this big night out? Is he undercover as himself, too? Shall I entice her with the promise of a hot French Canadian date?” Staci asked with more than a touch of irony in her voice. On purpose. This was getting totally ludicrous. “I need the whole cover story. Details. Heaven forbid I should get caught in a lie.”

  Drew scowled.

  Noe laughed. “Very wise to ask about the cover. Your wife would make a good spy.”

  Drew shook his head. “Don’t encourage her.”

  “Tell your friend that I am Ha
merican,” Noe said.

  Staci had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. How was he going to hide that accent of his? And why should he? It was incredibly sexy. This should be an even more interesting evening than she imagined.

  “An old university buddy of Drew’s. Noah, a good Hamerican version of my name where the h behaves as it should and stays quiet.” Noe grinned. “Tell your friend that you don’t know much about me. I’ll fill you both in together.”

  Lies of omission again, Staci thought. Worked for her.

  * * *

  Drew watched Staci until she disappeared up the stairs. He grabbed a Hook House Ale out of the fridge and tossed it to Noe. “You’re here about Martel?”

  Noe nodded.

  “Were you close?” Drew asked, wondering whether Noe had heard about Martel’s burial by hops.

  “Barely knew him, my friend.” Noe grinned and unscrewed the top of his bottle of ale. “I heard the killer concealed him in a pile of hops. None of that hops is in here, I take it?” He lifted his bottle.

  Drew shrugged. “Beer takes longer than a day to brew,” he said noncommittally. “We disposed of the offending hops.”

  “Very good.” Noe raised his bottle toward Drew’s. “To catching the killer.”

  Drew clinked his bottle against Noe’s. “Catching a killer.” Though he wondered. Catching the killer just might lose him Staci forever. Somehow that was beginning to matter more and more to him.

  “Is this Mandy hot?” Noe asked.

  “Smoking. And she’s wise to spies so be careful. Her late husband was a friend of mine from The Farm.” Drew’s cell buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket. Langley was texting. He turned to Noe. “I have to take this. Make yourself at home.”

  Drew retreated to the most private room in the condo—the tiny main-floor bathroom—and shut the door. The bathroom was completely shielded and soundproofed. As a side benefit, the lighting was good, too. Drew was certain Noe, who was a top-notch spy, was already trying to intercept Drew’s text.

  A message came up on Drew’s phone from headquarters.

  Excellent intel you collected. The Gardener is in Victoria. The Fisherman plans to visit the gardens next weekend. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for to bring them both in.