Kiss, Don't Tell (Devils in Disguise Book 1)

by Holly Hart

  This time it’s me who can’t hide a grin: a proud grin. Who wouldn’t be proud after making a girl this hot moan like I made Kim cry outlast night?

  There isn’t a man alive, that’s who.

  “I’m sorry, Nate,” Kim says. For a second, my heart jumps right up into my mouth. It feels like a “dear John” kind of moment. I didn’t realize that Kim was a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of girl. I’m kind of impressed…

  Kim sits up straight, still hugging that pillow. It’s like she needs it: like it’s a comforter.

  “For what?”

  “For being such a –,” her voice catches, “– a bitch. To you. I was out of line when I slapped you last night. And it’s not just then, either. I’ve treated you like crap for weeks, almost.”

  I’m glad she’s not looking at my face. Hell, I can’t even talk. The guilt over the way I’m playing this girl is stomping on my voice box. It’s laying blows into my gut. What’s happening to me?

  Kim doesn’t notice my silence. “I don’t know why you kept coming back, but I’m glad you did. I’m glad you were the one who showed me how good making love could be…”

  I’m still paralyzed. On any other day, with any other woman, I’d be beaming. Right now: I feel like a piece of shit.

  Kim pushes herself upright, and crawls up my body. I don’t move a muscle. This girl is too good for me … way too good. I need to say something – something to scare her away from me before it’s too late. I’m going to hurt her – I know it – sooner or later. I can’t bear the idea of breaking her heart.

  “So thank you, Nate Foster,” she whispers, using a made up name, and hitting me once more. “Thank you.”

  Kim kisses me on the lips, and her skin feels like silk. I can’t help but lean into her touch. She lies down next to me, and I rack my brain for something to say, but I don’t trust my voice.

  The silence feels like a wall between us. At least, it does to me. I’m not sure Kim notices.

  “Can I tell you something?” Kim says. Her voice sounds quiet, almost subdued. I get the feeling she’s about to share a secret I don’t deserve to hear.

  “Anything,” I croak.

  “You promise you won’t laugh?” God, she sounds so timid. Whatever this is, it’s important to her.

  “I promise. I would never laugh if you asked me to not do it.”

  “You know the letter, the one you –, the one I thought you wrote?”

  I nod.

  “It ruined my life, that letter.” Kim laughs. It’s jarring. “Well, at least high school. At the time, what’s the difference?”

  I keep silent.

  “It was from you. At least, they said it was. Karen and Teresa, and a bunch more I barely remember. It was in my locker when I got back from class. I was so excited…” Kim says, her voice trailing off as she delves deeper into the memory.

  “I was what, thirteen years old: Fourteen? Getting a letter from a boy – it meant the world to me. It was kind of dumb, right?” Kim laughs sadly. I grip her shoulder and squeeze it. I don’t know what to say.

  “Karen was there when I got it. I should have known then that it was all a sick joke right then, but –,” Kim chokes, and grinds to a halt. She turns to face me, and I realized that there’s a tear forming in the corner of her eye. “But life was horrid at home. I just wanted something to cling to, you know?”

  “Why?” I whisper. I shouldn’t be getting this attached to Kim. Not if I’m going to do my job. But I can’t help but ask. I need to know.

  “My mom,” Kim shrugs, “she was stage IV by then. No eyebrows, no hair, attached to a drip in the hospital every Friday while they pumped all kinds of crap into her veins.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. My words sound so empty.

  “Please, don’t be,” Kim smiles. That tear is still hanging there. I can’t tear my eyes away from it. I feel like if it was to fall, a dam would burst. “You of all people don’t need to be. Anyways, where was I?”

  “Your school locker.”

  Kim nods. “The locker, sure. The letter, it was signed by you. I didn’t even know who you were, at the time – it was the start of the semester. Besides, that was nothing new. I didn’t get out much. Karen wouldn’t shut up about you, though. This hot new kid, dad in the Army, you know…”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  There’s a pit in my stomach. I don’t want to know the answer, but I have to ask. I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Kim at high school. But I can’t help but feel that history is repeating itself. Even if I didn’t hurt her then, maybe that’s just because I didn’t get the chance.

  “I was supposed to meet you on the football field: in the center. It sounded so romantic, you know?”

  I nod. I close my eyes. I can just picture it now. Kim, my Kim, her fingers curled around the letter that was her escape from the horrors of her mother’s illness. I want to stop the train that is hurtling towards her, but I’m powerless.

  “You didn’t turn up, Nate,” she laughs – but behind the tinkling sound, I can hear the hurt that still lingers in her, “not even the fake you.”

  “But … Karen did …

  … and Teresa …

  … and two dozen more of their friends. They streamed out onto the field, made a circle around me, and wouldn’t let me leave until I had tears streaming down my face.”

  I pull Kim against me. Her body is stiff with tension as she relives the memory. I push the pillow aside, and she clings onto my arm in its place.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper into her ear.

  Kim laughs again, but this time it’s hard and unforgiving. “That wasn’t all of it. Not the bad part. No one at school knew about mom; not at first. I was bullied before she fell ill. I knew what would happen if the girls found out.”

  I feel something against my bare arm. It’s wet. I realize with a horrified start that it’s tears. Kim’s weeping, tears overflowing her eyes, but she’s not sobbing. It’s like the memory is too powerful for crying.

  “Did they?” I croak. I don’t want to hear the answer. I know it already.

  “Of course: and you know what? They said it was my fault: for being a slut. You believe that? Me!”

  I clench Kim to my body. I’m bristling with rage. I know everything she’s telling me happened a decade ago, but I want to storm back in time and save her from a lifetime of hurt. She clutches at my arm harder.

  “Is that why you didn’t,” I whisper, “you know –.”

  Kim’s hair tickles my arm, and I realize she’s nodding. “– Sleep with anyone?” Kim says. “Yes. But not because I was worried about people calling me names. I’m a big girl, Nate: well, most of the time. You know, you’re only the second person I’ve ever told that story to, after Frankie.”

  “Why me?”

  Kim answers me simply. “After what happened, I didn’t trust anyone. I learned to trust Frankie. You feel real, Nate. I trust you, too.”

  Her declaration feels like a blade through my heart. I want desperately to assure her that I’d never betray her, but I can’t. I’m doing it just by lying here next to her.

  “You know something, Nate?”

  “What?” I whisper.

  “You’re everything I’m not. You’re confident, I’m not. You’re cocky, I’m not. You’re sexy, I’m not. And for a long time, all my adult life really, I thought I would always be this way. Except when I’m around you, I’m not. I stand up taller. I laugh more. I feel wanted.”

  Kim turns, and snuggles herself against my body, looking up at my eyes. I want to look away. She’s looking at me with love in those blues, but it burns like an accusation.

  “Why are you so sure I’m a good man?” I say. This is a dangerous path. I don’t know where it’s leading. I know I can’t tell Kim the truth, not unless I want her to walk straight out that door.

  What if she asked?

  I wouldn’t be able to lie to her face.

  Kim doesn’t answer me, not in
the way I expected. Her fingers caress the tattoo under my left pectoral. “Who is Tony Fawkes, Nate?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. A second ago it was Kim’s messy past that was threatening to make her cry; now it’s mine doing the same to me. But I won’t cry. I still haven’t, not since Tony –

  “He died,” I say. My voice is hoarse with raw pain. Just like Kim never told anyone about what happened, nor have I. Not that I’ve got anyone to tell. At least, I didn’t.

  “Tony must have meant a lot,” Kim says, resting her cheek against my chest, “for you to tattoo his name onto you, like that.”

  “He did,” I whisper.

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” Kim says, pulling herself up. She kisses me lightly on the lips. “Tell me when you’re ready; never, if you don’t want. But now –,” she grins, “I really do need to shower.”

  20

  Nate

  I duck into an alcove by the Landwolfe lecture theater, and slide my thumb over my phone’s fingerprint scanner. I don’t have long.

  The screen flashes to life. I navigate through a couple of folders to a bland app icon. I tap it, reconfirm my fingerprint, and an encrypted messaging platform fills the screen.

  Nate: Any update on the Muerta Brigade operatives? Did you get anything from that present I gift wrapped for you? I’m flying blind here.

  Within seconds, a response flashes onto my screen. I wince. That means my handler, Natalie, is directly involved. I can picture her now. She’s probably pacing around the dimly lit operations Center with a face like she’s bitten into a sour grape.

  Operations: You need to move things up. We are getting pressure from the agency. They are not happy about the lack of progress. Maybe it is time to bring the girl in, find out what she knows.

  My heart stops dead. I can’t allow Paragon to get their hands on Kim. She’s only just coming out of her shell. If something like that happens now – and worse, she finds out I had a part in it…

  Crap. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  It’s not only that she’ll never forgive me. I can deal with that. This is my fault, all of it. No, what’s much worse is that it’ll shake her newfound confidence. I can’t let that happen.

  Nate: No. Not happening. She’s my asset. You don’t get to touch her. That’s not how this works. The undercover operative calls the shots.

  Operations: You aren’t producing. You’ve got forty-eight hours. We can always find another operative.

  I clench my fist. I want to fire back an angry response. I stop myself. It won’t do any good.

  Nate: I’m about to rustle the bushes. I need time to pick through whatever comes hurtling out.

  I hit send and wait for an answer, staring transfixed by the screen. There’s no reply. I let out a deep, angry hiss as I finally release the contents of my lungs. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath. I’m vibrating with tension now.

  I know what Natalie is doing. She’s playing me. She’s trying to get me fired up. In the past, it might have worked. Old Nate’s pride would have been pricked. Old Nate would have done anything to prove his manhood. But now, I have something much more important than my ego on the line.

  “Mister Foster?”

  I turn to see my PA smiling at me. When she sees my face, however, she flinches. I soften my expression. I didn’t realize my anger was standing out so obviously.

  “Are we ready, Casey?” I say, killing the messaging program as I turned. I tap the icon harder than necessary. It doesn’t do much to improve my mood.

  Casey flicks her long blonde hair like a horse trying to escape the attentions of a particularly persistent insect. She rests her hands on her hips with irritation. “It’s Carrie,” she says with a bite.

  Of course, she’s annoyed. It was apparent from the moment she laid eyes on me that the woman wanted me. I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind… once.

  Then Kim entered my life for the second time, and I put that thought on ice. Still, that’s no reason to be rude to her. The truth is Carrie doesn’t even register on my radar. She’s an attractive girl, but she doesn’t start anything inside me.

  Think she’d appreciate it if you told her?

  “I’m sorry,” I grin. I don’t say her name, just in case I mix it up … again. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “It’s nothing,” Carrie says, eyeing me up again. She brushes some imaginary lint off my shoulder. I know it’s just an excuse to touch me. “I’m sorry to hear that. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to –,” she licks her lips suggestively, “help.”

  My phone buzzes. I exhale gratefully, and push past my overly forward assistant. I make a mental note to have her transferred. I glance down at the screen, once again bright with life.

  Kim: Do you have to come to this, too?

  Nate: Look up.

  I slip the small device into the inside pocket of my suit and step through the double doors. I emerge into a crowded lecture theater. The heat of every one of Landwolfe’s employees’ stares burns the back of my skull. I don’t have to look up to know that most of them would rather be anywhere but this room.

  There is a lectern waiting for me on-stage. I walk towards it.

  Three hundred pairs of bored eyes stare back at me. I guess they have to do this kind of thing all the time – long, bureaucratic training seminars that get nowhere, and do even that slowly. One hand rises from the crowd.

  I scrunch up my eyes as I look back. The bright overhead light makes me wince, but I find him. Is this guy for real?

  As soon as I pick the guy out from the crowd, I have my answer. He’s wearing a wide, bright pink tie and a thick pinstriped suit. It looks like he saw a newspaper cartoon of what a banker is supposed to wear, and then went out and actually bought the conclusion of his spurious research.

  “Hey! Excuse me!” he shouts out in a loud, self-important, American accent “Yeah ,you. Buddy – can I just get a check on how long this is going to take? Some of us have real business to take up our time, you know what I’m saying?”

  I lean forward and tap the microphone. A loud echo rings out around the room. “Just checking,” I grin. Three hundred stern faces look back at me. “Tough crowd…”

  “Hey, guy!” the banker in the pink tie bellows, standing up, “I’m not here to listen to your jokes –.”

  “Sit the hell down,” I growl. “You’re here because I want you here. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better.”

  I feel like I’m back at school, in the second leading up to a fight. Half the room is focused on me, spellbound; the other half is staring at him. It’s a battle of wills. I’m not losing. I don’t look away.

  The banker holds his hands up. His cheeks puff with air, and I can tell he’s spitting mad, but he sits down. The crowd gives off the slightest of disappointed groans – just a chorus of air escaping their collective lungs, really. They were expecting something more exciting.

  “Thank you,” I smile sweetly. “This meeting will run a lot smoother if everyone lets me speak. My name is Nate Foster. Not a lot of people in here will know who I am.”

  I pause, rest my hands on the lectern, and look out into the crowd. I want to turn up the heat. Someone, or some ones, in this crowd are responsible for moving money for the Templar cartel. I need to watch out for any sign of nervousness …

  … except, my mouth suddenly goes dry. My gaze stops sweeping across the crowd, and comes to a halt on one person.

  Kim. She smiles at me, and my stomach does a backflip.

  Kim’s dressed in a gray jacket and a white shirt. It hides those delicious curves I love so much, but she is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want to stare at her and her alone. I want to talk to her and let her know that I’m here to protect her; that I will keep her safe.

  But I can’t.

  I shake my head to clear it. I look away from Kim. As I do, I think I see her waving at me, but I can’t be sure. So
meone coughs in the crowd. I hear the hum of the stage lighting. I take a sip from a glass of water.

  “I was brought in for one simple reason;” I say, getting back to business, “to hunt down traitors in our midst.”

  Okay sure, if you accused me of being a touch overdramatic, you’d be right. Thing is, I wouldn’t care. It’s having the effect I want. Suddenly everyone in the crowd is sitting up a bit straighter.