Their mission last night, the reason they’d been up twenty-four hours straight, was for her? To check out her stepfather for her and help her mom out?
“You two spent all night working on my family’s problems?” She took the paper from him.
Drew shrugged, looking charmingly humble. “Not all night. A good part of it.”
Her gaze bounced between the two men again. They both looked so genuine, she wanted to hug them.
“No evidence?” She should have been relieved. She was relieved. Until she looked at the paper and all she saw were the latest standings in the American League. The Mariners really needed to step up their game. They were hanging out in the middle of the pack. At this rate, they’d never make the World Series. “Baseball scores?”
“Sorry. I’ll decode them for you later. I had to use a public printer.”
She nodded. She was sure he would.
“If Sam isn’t cheating, what has he been up to? Why has he been sneaking off on his own?”
“What does it matter? That’s not what Linda asked us to find out. Your spy mission is over. You can drop your plans to spy on Sam.” Drew sounded too casual.
“Oh, no, I can’t!” She’d been looking forward to this.
Drew frowned. “Why not?”
“Because Mom will want to see proof. Evidence that I actually did some spying. Something other than baseball scores and standings. Otherwise she’ll never believe me. After all, I can’t tell her the truth—that you’re an NCS agent and ran Sam through the system. It will have to look like I gave it a try.”
“Stace, I really don’t think that’s a good idea—”
She glared at him.
“You can’t spy on an innocent man. What if he catches you? Are you going to incriminate your mom and make things worse?”
“Are you saying you think I can’t spy? Let me tell you, Drew Fields, I’m as good a spy as you are.”
He started laughing. “Really? You’re going to go with that?”
He infuriated her. And although he had her on this one, she refused to back down.
“What are you going to say if he catches you?” Drew asked.
“A convenient half-truth, a lie of omission.”
“You’re going to lie?”
“A lie of omission. Those aren’t nearly as hard to carry off.”
Drew shook his head.
Noe was trying to stay out of their marital squabble and hide a grin. He was suddenly preoccupied with eating the last few bites of his waffle.
“I’m going to have to give you a few pointers,” Drew said at last. “And I’ll specify which spy toys you can and can’t use. I’m not so sure anymore they’re a good idea, not when we’ve already cleared Sam.
“And you’re going to have to promise me to be careful, Stace. More than careful. Careful about being careful. Got it?”
He seemed so concerned for her safety, it was touching. What had gotten into him? All these attacks on her life must have had him spooked. A spook spooked? That was so … romantic of him.
At times like these she wondered—did he really still love her? She didn’t like the way her hopes soared with the thought. Would it make any difference? Or only make things more difficult?
She was moved enough by his concern that she didn’t argue with all of his constraints, and merely shrugged. “Fine.”
* * *
Three hours, and no sleep later, Drew, Noe, and Staci stood in front of the targets at the outdoor range of the local gun club.
Drew had fired twenty rounds and had two holes in his target’s head, two holes that he’d hit repeatedly ten times in a row.
Noe’s target had just a few more holes, same scenario.
Staci’s target was peppered with about twenty holes, none of which was made by more than one bullet. She’d fired thirty rounds. Ten had gone afield. The most “lethal” shot looked like it had just nicked the target’s ear.
Drew stepped back and studied her efforts, cursing to himself. He’d tried teaching her the more accurate Weaver stance. Given up on that and gone back to the standard stance. Failing that, he was going to have to fall back to point shooting.
Inaccurate at distances beyond thirty feet, point shooting was only good in close-quarter self-defense situations when you hoped to get rounds off as quickly as possible and kill the attacker without taking aim, before he killed you. He hated the thought of resorting to point shooting. He wanted her to be confident taking out any threat from as far away as it took.
What had happened to her relative skill at the range? After less than a year off, getting back on should have been like riding a bicycle, even with the new gun.
But right now, if Staci came upon any RIOT agent or assassin under eighty-five, she was dead on contact. SMASH agents didn’t miss. Failure on their part resulted in death—their own.
The picture of Sam killing Martel flashed through his mind. He took a deep breath and watched Staci’s form as she fired off another few shots. Watching her form was usually a treat. But not while someone was watching them. And someone definitely was. Drew had enough spy sense to feel it, to catch the shadowy movements in his peripheral vision. It kept him from focusing his full attention on Staci.
Drew also didn’t like the husbandly possessive and protective urges that came flooding back to him. Or the way the emotional distance he’d carefully put between them before this mission began was falling away at light speed.
Another shadow. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. On the pretense of helping Staci, he put himself between it and her and kept his weapon within easy reach.
Staci wore ear protection and couldn’t have heard him even if he’d wanted to coach her. When she lowered her Pocket 9, he gently put a hand on her shoulder, bent his knees to even their height difference, and slid in behind her, keeping an eye on the presence behind him with his rearview sunglasses. Ready to spin and shoot if necessary.
This was not the best position for him. Too many distracting sensations as Staci’s bottom snuggled into him and he put his arms around her to steady her arm, trying to prop her up. She wasn’t supposed to be bending, sticking her butt out into him. She was no doubt teasing. She’d better be careful or their two-off was going to turn into a three-off soon.
This mission really was going to kill him. He reminded himself never to go undercover as himself again.
He steadied Staci’s aim, sighted the target, and held firm as she squeezed the trigger. She hit the target between the eyes. Excellent. Except he wasn’t always going to be standing behind her, guiding her shot.
She pulled off her ear protection and spun around, squealing. Then next thing he knew, she kissed him, hard and fast, and pulled away laughing, her eyes dancing.
“See, I can do it!” She gave him a playful punch in the arm. “You thought I couldn’t. Admit it. That’s why you came over to help!”
“Yeah, and I did.”
She shook her head and leaned in to whisper to him, “I can do it by myself. I only wanted you near me. I can shoot just fine on my own.”
Why did his temperature just jump ten degrees and his heart start racing out of control? Since Mandy’s revelation to him, he’d begun to doubt his ability to read Staci. Was she pulling his chain? He imagined so. But he sure as hell wasn’t certain and that’s what disturbed him—the hope that she could lie convincingly, and the betrayal at the thought she would lie to him. Again.
He glanced over at Noe, who was holstering his weapon too casually and slowly. His spy sense had picked something up, too. Drew saw it in his taut, careful movements.
Drew never ignored his senses. He certainly wasn’t going to ignore his fellow spy’s, too.
Drew turned to Noe. “Take this tease to the café and get her something to eat. I need to talk to the owner about renewing our membership.”
Noe took the hint. “Sure thing.” He took Staci’s arm. “The café is this way, no?” He turned away from Drew without waiting for an an
swer.
Drew intended to secure the area. He turned and walked off, watching them in his rearview sunglasses until they were safely inside the building before heading toward the parking lot. He wanted a look at the forest beyond and the shadow it held.
He had his firearm ready, every sense on high alert as he scanned the woods to his left. Which was why he nearly jumped when he turned back to his right and Emmett Nelson stood beside him, smiling.
“Caught you!” Emmett grinned like a boy who’d just pulled a prank.
Drew frowned. How did the boss get the jump on him every time? “I hope you’re the shadow who’s been watching us all session?”
Emmett slapped Drew on the back. “Have to keep my agents on their toes.” He laughed. “Looks like you and Staci are getting along well.”
Drew scowled at him. “Don’t get your hopes up. Staci and I are getting our divorce as soon as this mission is over. I want her to be safe, and free to lead her own life.”
“I’ve asked you this before,” Emmett said. “What makes you think she’s not safe with you? You saved her life twice this week already.”
“Once. You saved her the second time,” Drew said.
Emmett shrugged. “You alerted me to the danger. She’d be dead if you hadn’t been around. These attempts have nothing to do with your job, my boy. RIOT would be after her, regardless.
“The world is a dangerous place. Hers could be a little safer with you in it, ever thought of that?”
Drew shook his head. Nice try.
Emmett didn’t back off. “She needs you. You make her happy. Any fool can see that. Why don’t you tell her the real reason you want this divorce and let her decide what she wants and what makes her happy?”
Drew had to work hard to keep his cool and not scowl. “Now you’re playing marriage counselor? Things must be slow at the office. Don’t tell me we’ve conquered evil and I missed it.”
“Smart-ass.” Emmett shook his head. “NCS marriages have a one hundred percent success rate. I’d hate to see a perfect record broken. It’s one of our key selling points. I don’t have the budget to change the recruitment brochures. You know we never lie.” Emmett’s eyes danced with amusement at his outrageous falsehood.
Emmett changed topics abruptly. “You wanted to see me and tell me to go to hell. You want me to pull Staci back and not let her spy on her stepfather. Like any protective husband, you think it’s too dangerous.” He laughed again, knowing he’d read Drew’s mind. It showed on his face.
Damn it! Emmett made him sound like a hovering mother hen. “It’s nice to be told what I think, saves me the effort.” He took a deep breath. “Shit, Emmett! It is too dangerous.”
“So you’re going to take away her spy toys?”
Drew scowled at him. How did Emmett know these things? “She can keep the cling fingers.”
Emmett laughed. “Let her keep everything. We need her on the inside.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Staci snuggled behind Drew in bed, not quite awake for the day. Dreamingly drowsy, she pressed her breasts into his back. And ran her fingers through his hair. And over the strong, taut muscles of his back. Down the triangle of his body past his narrow waist. Over, around, and in front, until something hard and erect grabbed her attention. And she grabbed it.
Mmmm, Staci thought as she took hold and stroked Drew’s very awake manhood through his cotton boxer briefs, opening one eye slowly to watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest become hot and heavy.
And then Drew flipped over without warning, pinning her and bracing over her before she could move.
“Going for a three-off?” He didn’t look the least bit sleepy.
The dreamy quality of the morning evaporated. She was wide awake now, too. And embarrassed, facing the first day on a new job, her personal spy mission, and a sleeping husband she shouldn’t have aroused. Wouldn’t have aroused if she hadn’t been half asleep and temporarily ensconced in their happier past.
Still, she was tempted. She opened her mouth to protest, but the blare of the alarm clock cut her off.
Drew glanced at the clock and cursed. “No time.” He rolled off her and slapped the alarm.
Staci shouldn’t have felt so disappointed.
Drew threw the covers off and sat up. She realized his intention—he was going to get into the shower first! She sat up, threw off the covers, and dashed for the bathroom. Unfortunately, Drew was quicker and beat her to the bathroom door.
“Oh, come on!” She stared at him, trying to argue her way into the early shower. “You know it takes me twice as long as you do to get ready!”
“You should have thought of that last night and set the alarm ahead.”
She glared at him.
“You’re welcome to shower with me.”
She was still tempted. But she’d vowed there would be no three-off, and she didn’t want to make a liar out of herself. Again. Besides, if she showered with him, they’d definitely be late.
She crossed her arms and turned back to plunk onto the bed. “You’d better be quick in there.”
Of course, he wasn’t quick in there. But his dawdling gave Staci time to lay out her outfit—gray empire-waist dress with a flowing skirt and pink platform pumps—and throw a few more items into the box of spy gear Drew had approved for office use. Specifically, she packed her black light and the iPhone recovery stick. He’d expressly forbidden her from using the recovery stick, claiming an innocent man deserved his privacy. Men! They all stuck together. Despite the American League standings, Staci still wasn’t convinced Sam wasn’t fooling around. He was up to something.
* * *
An hour and a half later, Drew pulled his car to a stop in front of Attitude’s front office. He got out, grabbed Staci’s box, and carried it into the reception area for her, looking like her handsome, sweet, all-American boy-next-door husband. The one who turned heads and melted hearts with his charm.
And today he was all charm as Lucy Wells greeted them. He shot Lucy his killer grin, remaining cool and collected while Staci’s heart raced. She’d nearly jumped when Lucy approached them, certain Lucy was going to recognize them, particularly Drew, as having been in the spy store.
“There’s our temp girl. Right on time!” Lucy pointed to an empty chair behind the reception desk. “You’ll be working reception during your time with us.” Lucy was barely paying any attention to her. Instead, she was smiling dreamily as she told Drew where to put Staci’s stuff and watched his butt while he walked around behind the reception desk.
Lucy didn’t look in the least like she remembered Drew from the spy store. Then again, she hadn’t seen his butt in Spy Gear Seattle. Drew was right—take people out of context, even handsome men, and they become practically unrecognizable.
“Isn’t reception your area?” Staci knew very well it was.
Her question snapped Lucy’s focus back to her—begrudgingly, from the look on Lucy’s face. “Huh? Oh, yes. Reception is my baby. But for the next few months, it’ll be yours while I replace Brittany in the black-box area in the back.”
“I thought I was replacing Brittany?” Staci’s mind raced furiously. Stuck out in reception, there’d be no way to spy on Sam.
“Sorry temp services gave you the wrong impression. You need a government clearance to work behind the doors.” She pointed to the formidable glass doors that led from the reception area back to the office, manufacturing area, and lab space. “It’s too time consuming and expensive to get one for a temp. Since I already have a clearance, I’ve been temporarily reassigned.” She smiled brightly.
Staci got the feeling Lucy was looking forward to invading new gossip territory. Did Attitude and the US government really think Staci was a bigger security risk than Lucy with her wagging tongue? Someone needed to set them straight.
“But there are no restrictions on reception,” Lucy said cheerfully. “You just can’t go behind the doors into the black-box area.”
She patted
Staci’s arm in a patronizing manner that irked Staci. “Don’t worry. I’ll train you and show you all you need to know. Approached with the right attitude”—Lucy winked—”working reception can be highly rewarding.”
I bet, Staci thought, wondering how many attitude jokes she was going to have to endure during her stint here.
Drew set Staci’s box down where Lucy pointed. He came around and addressed Staci, “Looks like you’re in competent hands. I’ve gotta run, babe. Have a great day.”
He leaned over and kissed her, the kind of light, sweet kiss a loving husband gives his wife before heading off to face the rat race, corporate ladder climbing, and, in his case, fending off foreign agents and hiding bodies on the job.
He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, smiled at her, and walked off as if he weren’t watching her and guarding her life. He slid on his rearview spy sunglasses so she was pretty sure he kept her in view until he reached the car. Who was going to try to take her out in Attitude, with all their high-tech security?
Staci glanced over at the security guard at the door. He appeared to be asleep on his feet. Maybe she should have been as cautious as Drew.
She and Lucy watched Drew leave the building and drive off toward Hook House Ale. The natural way he stayed undercover amazed her. He played the game just right, so convincingly even she believed the ruse that they were happily reunited. She wondered—if Drew would just stay undercover as himself, could their marriage actually work?
Lucy broke the mood. “What a wonderful husband you have! Driving you to work on your first day—how cute!”
Cute like a kindergartner going off to school? That wasn’t the way Staci saw it. More like worried she’d be offed in some unseemly manner on her way in from the parking lot. But she couldn’t say that so she simply nodded, pleased with herself for finding ways to lie without actually uttering untruthful words.
“Let’s get you settled in and trained,” Lucy said. “They want me in the back this afternoon.”
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