Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  “Come on.” I motion for her to follow me so she doesn’t wander anywhere she shouldn’t, but I have a feeling she’s going to snoop around my place anyway. I’d taken the steps to hide anything that I didn’t want her to see before I left tonight because I had every intention of bringing her back to my place.

  “Pretty swanky place.” She whistles as the foyer opens to the sprawling, three-story glass living room. “I would’ve pictured you living in a place a little less…”

  “White?” I ask, coming to a stop behind her as she looks around the room.

  “Well, yeah. It’s bright in here even though it’s nighttime.” She steps toward the windows and peers down at the city lights. “You just seemed more like a dungeon dweller.”

  I can’t hide my amusement at her statement. “I like to surround myself with beautiful things, and the white helps make the artwork and city backdrop pop.”

  “Kinda like that cute little thing at the store today?” She doesn’t look at me, but she’s fishing and there’s a hint of jealousy in her words.

  “She’s a friend, Kennedy. Nothing more.”

  “You buy clothes for all your friends?”

  “I buy plenty of things for my friends, but I never kiss them.”

  Her eyes flash with anger and acknowledgment. “You kissed me.”

  I head toward the kitchen. “We aren’t friends.” Keeping my back to her, I start to pull a pot down from the rack over the island stove.

  She stalks in behind me with her Manolos clicking against the white marble floor. “Excuse me?”

  “Sit.” I point toward the stool across from me, where we can both keep an eye on each other.

  She lets out a loud huff and doesn’t move for a minute, but when I say nothing more and turn on the burner, she climbs onto the stool and rests her face against the back of her hand. She watches me closely, but her body’s bouncing from the way she’s tapping her foot nervously against the rung of the barstool.

  I make quick work of chopping the tomatoes, garlic, and onions, throwing them in the pan. Bending down to check the flame, I catch a glimpse of her. “What’s eating you?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Nix.”

  She places her palms flat against the countertop, letting them slide on the marble as she bends forward and gives me a glimpse of her cleavage that’s practically falling out of her red bustier. “I know that. You’re cooking like you’re comfortable and do it all the time. You’re a mysterious man, Nix.”

  “I like it that way. I’m just being me.”

  “Well, you seem to know all about me. What do I need to know about you?”

  I grab a bottle of red wine I’d opened earlier today and pull out the cork. I hold it out for her to read the label before I begin to pour. “Want a glass?”

  “How do I know you didn’t drug it?”

  I stop mid-pour and laugh at her foolishness. “Why would I drug you?”

  She shrugs nonchalantly. “Maybe you want to take advantage of me.” Her eyes wander around the kitchen and never meet mine.

  After handing her a glass, I pour myself one before setting it on the counter. “First, I’ve never drugged anyone. Two, I can’t take advantage of the willing. And last, I wouldn’t have been seen in public with you and brought you back here if I meant you any harm. I’ll drink mine first so you know you’re safe.” She eyes me skeptically as I drink the entire glass and pour myself another. “Happy?”

  She smiles widely and lifts her glass to her beautiful lips. “I’m satisfied.”

  “I don’t get you, Kennedy. Something about you doesn’t make sense. What’s with the fake names and wigs? I don’t understand why you’re hanging out with Hassan either. He’s dangerous, and you don’t seem the type.” I’m dancing around the topic, hoping she says something that will fill in some blanks without my coming right out and asking.

  “What type do I seem?” she asks over the rim of the wineglass.

  “If I’m going off what I know and what I’ve observed, I’m guessing you’re a bored little rich girl looking for trouble.” My words hit a nerve because she snarls, but I continue. “Or you’re looking for attention from your father by associating with the worst criminals in the country.”

  “Maybe I’m looking for a career.” She takes a gulp of the wine, but she keeps her eyes pinned on me.

  I busy myself with finishing our dinner instead of staring at her and fantasizing. Sometimes I know it’s easier for people to talk openly when they aren’t being studied or lusted after. “You want to get into the same line of work as Hassan?”

  “Hell, no. I thought I could learn a thing or two by getting close to him.” She refills her glass and holds the bottle up to me, but I shake my head. “But so far, he just wants to get in my pants.”

  “He thinks women are only useful for one thing. If you’re looking to learn the business, Hassan isn’t the one to teach you, kid.”

  She starts to cough, and wine dribbles down her chin before she sticks out her tongue and licks it away. “Kid?”

  “You’re twenty-three, Kennedy. You’re too young to be part of Hassan’s world.” My voice is surprisingly even given that my insides are jumping after watching her tongue swipe against her skin. I wonder how the wine tastes on her lips and if they’re as sweet as I imagine them to be.

  “I may be younger than most, but I’m cut out for this, Nix.”

  “Fuckin’ women in my life,” I mutter as I pour the pasta on the plate and wonder how I now have two clueless women trying to stick their noses where they don’t belong.

  “You don’t sound any better than Hassan.”

  “It’s not that. This life isn’t cut out for everyone. You’re too high profile with your family tree to get involved in the world I live in. You obviously haven’t thought this through.”

  Her back straightens as I slide the plate in front of her. “I have,” she says.

  Taking the seat next to her, I pour myself another glass and top hers off before taking my first forkful. She’s still twisting the pasta around the tines, deep in thought and probably pissed off by the statement I made about women. Between her and Coco, I want to shake some sense into them.

  “This is great,” she says after swallowing the first bite. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “I know a few dishes, but this one my grandmother taught me.”

  “She did good.” She dabs her lips with a napkin I’d slid her way.

  The Eva I met in the club is nothing like the woman sitting next to me, slurping up pasta sauce in the most uncivilized manner. The conversation is easy between us as I get little tidbits about her life. Her relationship with her father is almost nonexistent after the affair became public knowledge, but she’s close with her siblings, including a sister from her father’s marriage before she was born.

  “What about you, Nix? Any brothers or sisters?”

  I shake my head and push my plate forward, done with food and wanting to get to the real main course. “Just me.”

  “How about your parents?”

  “Alive and well in Boston.”

  She smirks because she already guessed the Boston piece by my almost imperceptible accent. “What made you get into this business?”

  I study her and scratch the hairs on my chin. “Is this a job interview, Kennedy?”

  “Just making small talk.” She pushes her plate next to mine and turns to face me. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at me. “You aren’t who I thought you were.”

  “I don’t seem like a criminal?” I tease, because everyone thinks of the way we’re portrayed by Hollywood. Dark, angry, and hotheaded. Sure, I’m those things when necessary, but most of the time I’m just me. Calculating and collected Nix Ash. The one who never overthinks anything and usually doesn’t take a risk without a lot of thought.

  “You’re nothing like Hassan.”

  “Don’t confuse me with a good guy. Just like in every business, there ar
e different types of people. I am still a criminal, Kennedy.”

  Her free hand drifts to my leg. “You don’t seem so bad to me. I can’t believe it.”

  I turn my body and cage her in with my knees, feeling my willpower slip. I rest my hand on the side of her face, sweeping my thumb dangerously close to her lips. I’m barely hanging on. All I want to do is take her—right here, right now. “What are you doing here?”

  I gaze into her eyes with my thumb resting at the edge of her lip, so close to that silver hoop. “You invited me.”

  “But why are you here?” I want to hear that she’s here for the same reason I invited her. No longer can I deny my attraction or my need to be with her.

  Her tongue darts out, and she sweeps it against her lip, tasting my thumb. “There’s something about you, Nix. Something I can’t shake.”

  My cock twitches from the softness of her tongue against my skin. “You’re asking for trouble. I’m not a good man. You need to get out of whatever shit you’re trying to get into and find a nice, quiet life somewhere. It’s too dangerous, what you’re doing. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  There’s something about Kennedy that draws me to her. It’s a dangerous game we’re playing. We’re both hiding things and playing with fire. But my body wants her, no matter how much my mind says to walk away.

  She scoots forward on her chair, bringing her knees inches from my erection. “I’m not a good girl, Mr. Ash.”

  The first time I saw her, I knew there was a wild child in there. Her eyes held the key and left little to the imagination. It’s probably the thing that drew Hassan in too.

  Leaning forward, I scoop her into my arms and place her in my lap. “Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask when our mouths are only an inch apart, our breath mixing from our heavy pants. It takes all my willpower not to crash my mouth on hers and plunge my tongue between her lips.

  “Yes,” she whispers, and I can’t hold out any longer.

  My lips find hers and kiss her with more hunger than before. I’m asking for trouble by being with someone Hassan has openly shown off at the club, but right now, he’s the least of my worries. I can’t help but have a knot in my stomach thinking about Kennedy getting mixed up in shit she has no idea about. I need to find a way to get her to change her mind before she starts down a path she can’t get off without losing her life.

  9

  Kennedy

  I wake up in a strange bedroom, light filtering in around the corners of drawn blinds on tall windows. I’m still at Nix’s place. I remember drinking more wine than I should have, followed by a heated make-out session.

  This room, I don’t remember, though. I look down and see that I’m still dressed, so we must not have had sex. I’m pretty sure I’d remember sex with Nix, drunk or sober.

  There’s an en suite bathroom, so I go in and pee, wash up and rinse with the mouthwash I find in a cabinet. I comb my fingers through my hair as I walk into the kitchen.

  “Morning,” Nix says from the kitchen table.

  He’s wearing reading glasses and working on a laptop. I note the brand so I can include it in my notes. When I walk around to kiss him on the cheek, he closes the screen before I can even get a glance at it.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  “Want some breakfast? There’s a good diner close by.”

  I almost say yes, but then I remember the strategy I always use with men I’m working.

  Always leave them wanting more.

  “I need to go, actually. Rain check?”

  “Sure,” he says smoothly. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I’ll get a cab.”

  “When can I see you again?”

  I lean against the kitchen counter, feeling a swirl of excitement in my belly. As Eva, it’s my job to draw the interest of the sources I’m working, and I’m good at it. But from the time I slid my wig off in his car last night, I was more Kennedy than Eva. This is the first time since I started working for Greenlight that I feel like a man I’m interested in has seen the real me.

  Too bad he’s an internationally wanted criminal.

  “I’m sure we’ll see each other at the club,” I say. “Will you be there tonight?”

  His eyes change almost imperceptibly. They narrow and darken a little.

  “I will, but I’ll be working. No time for distractions, unfortunately.”

  “Is that what I am? A distraction?”

  “In part. I wouldn’t be able to focus on work if you were beside me.”

  I arch a brow. “And what work is that?”

  “Rescuing baby animals, of course.” He grins.

  “Right.”

  “What have you heard about me, Kennedy?”

  I shrug. “You told me yourself you’re a criminal.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. I told you what I know about you.”

  I pause for a second. “You’re a hacker. A black hat. You got rich by stealing money from rich people. And you’re good.”

  “Great.”

  “Modest,” I say with a wry smile. “And elusive.”

  “You heard all this at the club?”

  “Disappointed you’re not as top secret as you thought?”

  He shakes his head. “If I wanted to stay hidden, I’d use another identity.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “It’s a fluid number. How many do you have?”

  “Changing my hair and name is hardly assuming a whole new identity.”

  A flicker of annoyance passes over his face. “Don’t try to bullshit me. I know what you do because I do it, too. Eva’s got her own walk, her own laugh, and her own preferred drink. The real you is Kennedy, but you know how to assume other identities, and you know how to do it well. What I can’t figure out is why. You’re either a criminal yourself, or you work in intelligence.”

  “Maybe you work in intelligence, and you’re playing me.”

  He laughs and stands up from his chair. “If you want to know me, I’ll let you know as much as I let anyone else know. If you want to fuck me, I’ll show you a real good time. But trust me on this—if you’re trying to work me, don’t. You may work for some low-level hacker group that thinks they can infiltrate my business, or you may be some agent trying to get a promotion by bringing down the best. But the only one who will fall is you, and I don’t want to see that happen.”

  “Noted. And if I see you at the club tonight, I’ll try not to distract you.”

  I head for the door and he says, “You sure I can’t give you a ride?”

  “You mean in your car, or…?”

  “I’ll give you any kind of ride you want. Just say the word.”

  I give him a flirty grin. “I’ll remember that. Be good, Nix.”

  It’s all I can do to play it cool until I’m out the door, and then I stand with my back against the wall for a minute, getting myself together.

  Nix rattles me. Or whatever the hell his actual name is. Phoenix Ash? Yeah, right. I’m the fucking intelligence agent, yet he’s the one who figured out my real name and my parents’ names.

  Eva is fearless. But Kennedy loves her family and isn’t willing to put them in danger for her work. Nix has more control over me now than he even realizes.

  And yet, I feel a sense of trust with him. His warning was about him, not me. He doesn’t want me digging too deep, but I don’t think he would hurt my family. I can’t help wondering if I’m being naïve, though. We learned in the academy that undercover work can change a person. They can start to get close to sources and see that they aren’t all bad.

  Hassan is an asshole. Every moment spent with him just fuels my desire to bring him down. But Nix is different. Our dinner and that incredible kiss have me feeling off-balance. I need to spend my day refocusing on the job at hand.

  * * *

  My half sister Reagan smiles at me from the screen of my laptop. We have the same long black hair since I have mine colored dark right now, but hers i
s swept up in a cute topknot.

  “Kennedy, it’s been way too long. I’m glad you Skyped. It’s so good to see your face.”

  “You, too.”

  She lowers her brows. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

  I sigh heavily. “Not upset, just…tired.”

  “Have you been working too hard?”

  “Not harder than usual.”

  “So what’s going on? Talk to me.”

  I meet her blue eyes on the computer screen, wishing I could see her in person.

  “I mean, I could go for a nap, but this is a different kind of tired. I have to pretend I’m someone I’m not every time I leave my apartment. And the only time I went out as myself, just to buy some fucking dresses, I got busted.”

  “Busted? By whom?”

  I roll my eyes. “Phoenix Ash.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He doesn’t exist. I’m supposed to be working him, but I feel like he’s working me. Probably. Maybe. I don’t even fucking know.”

  “Okay, take a deep breath,” Reagan says.

  “Is that Kennedy?” a deep, male voice asks off-screen.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey,” Reagan’s husband, Jude, says, sitting down on the couch beside her. “What’s going on with our favorite spy?”

  “I’m fine,” I say weakly. “It’s just hard sometimes, never knowing if someone’s telling me the truth or not.”

  “You mean this guy, Phoenix?” Reagan asks.

  Jude arches his brows. “Phoenix…where do I know that name from?”

  “He’s a hacker-slash-criminal-slash-great cook whose place I stayed at last night.”

  Realization dawns on my brother-in-law’s face. “It was an intelligence briefing. That guy’s stolen tens of millions of dollars that we know of. Who knows how much we haven’t even traced to him?”

  “And you stayed at his house last night?” Reagan asks. “Is that safe?”

  “It’s what I do. To gain the trust of the bad guys, I have to get close to them.”

  Reagan narrows her eyes. “How close? Did you sleep with him?” She gives Jude an accusing look. “Does she have to sleep with men for this job? Because you did not mention that to me when you suggested her working for Greenlight.”