by Rosa, A.
I think back to the gun strapped to my leg, and I realize I want nothing more than to put a bullet right between his—
"Excuse me. I am standing right here, you know. What in the hell are you saying? Who paid the five grand to kill me? What about my P.A. Rebecca? Who called? And do you mean Luc Olivier? Tell me!"
Jeremy is exasperated double-time as he runs both hands through his unruly blonde hair. His eyes are wide, and he looks about ready to kill someone himself as his glacier eyes shoot daggers at both of us.
Derek responds before I can, and of course, he has no filter. "Marcus Gibbs paid someone to kill you, and Luc Olivier is helping him. The rest is still up in the air, but we are going to figure it out."
Jeremy's lips part in shock, but he closes his mouth as his eyes empty of emotion, and his face flushes pink. He looks utterly lost. Reflexively, I walk up to him, and bring my hands up to his face. I tangle my fingers in the back of his hair and force him to look me in the eyes.
"Jeremy, it's going to be fine," I whisper, wishing that Derek would leave the room.
His eyebrows furrow in sadness, and it's heartbreaking, but the moment is brief. His face hardens in anger, and his eyes frost dangerously as he makes eye contact with me.
"I didn't think Marcus would try to kill me." His face is chiseled with anger, but his tone tells me he is wounded.
"I know, babe, he just isn't the Marcus you knew anymore. That Marcus is long gone. He is losing it and needs to be stopped. He is willing to hurt you, and thousands of other people. He is deranged. I will take care of this." My high heels lift me to a better height, and I press my lips against his. He accepts them, and as always, the pain and tension ebb through his lips. This time my lips don't seem to soften his temper.
He pulls away, eyes still frosted over. "I'm hurt, and I want him gone."
"That's why I'm here." I smile and receive a glimmer of hope as the corner of his mouth twitches.
"I think we should get you two wired and ready to go." Derek has no shame about interrupting the moment, but maybe he's right. There is work to be done.
JEREMY HUNT
Derek opens a metallic briefcase, revealing all sorts of gadgets. Normally my boyish side would have fun playing secret agent, comparing the reality to the many movies I've watched, but not this time. Not right now.
While Alex is preoccupied, I let my eyes glide over her magnificent body. The dress looks incredible on her. Despite being a basic, sleek black, it brings out the flecks of gold in her eyes, making her look catlike, and sexy. It is formfitting, accentuating her curves in all the right places. I love that the dress is sleeveless, showing off her wonderfully slim shoulders on her dainty frame. Dainty? She is far from it, but she plays the part well.
No one would notice the faint scar on her shoulder on first glance, but for some reason, I want nothing more than to kiss it again, and bring her close—for my reassurance, not hers. I want to run my hands through her thick hair, smelling the sweet calming lavender, and fall asleep. I feel like a child in need of his security blanket.
I don't want to play secret agent. I want to pretend this isn't happening.
However, this isn't child's play. This is an adult problem, which requires an adult solution, not to mention an adult attitude. Fine.
I must admit, beneath my cool demeanor, I am livid, but I am also beyond hurt at the extent my former best friend has gone to.
Kill me? Was that really the answer, Marcus? Who does he think he is? He will not get away with this, that ungrateful son of a bitch.
I feel a bit like a shell of a person right now. I can't even manage a grin for Alex when she occasionally glances at me. I am already exhausted, and the night has not even begun. How can I show Alex that she is the only thing I need right now when all I can feel is anger?
"Ready to be wired with a mic?"
Alex is standing right in front of me with bright smile and glittering eyes. She is excited. The thought fills me with dread.
Instead of responding, I set my lips in a hard line and nod.
Her eyebrows furrow, but she doesn't push it. "This"—she holds a small white dot on her fingertip in front of me—"is a molar mic. You won't need to hear us, but we need to be able to hear you. You clip it into your back molar. See if it fits." She passes it off to me on my fingertip. "Try putting it in, and please make sure you don't swallow it. That's a lot of tax dollars right there."
I eye the dot for a moment. "James Bond-esque?" I try to be witty, but my tone is flat.
She smiles warmly and nods. "Kind of."
I stick my index finger in the back of my mouth, and struggle to find a suitable molar. Sure enough, the gadget clicks in smoothly. I'm relieved. I poke at it with my tongue, challenging its strength, but it doesn't budge.
"It's in," I quip.
She squints. "Let me see. Open your mouth."
I open wide as if I'm at the dentist. She gives it a once-over, sticking her finger in my mouth. I flinch. She laughs and says, "Don't be a baby. Let me see."
She's holding back her laughter, and I am in no mood. I pull away. "It's fine. It fits." My tone is harsher than I would like.
Her face hardens too. "OK, fine."
I take a deep breath. She is watching me like a science experiment.
I lean down and kiss her on the lips. They are wonderfully soft and inviting, and I ache for more, but I resist. "I need some air. I'll be on the balcony reading over my speech."
Her eyes go wide. "Jeremy? What speech?"
I flinch, realizing I should have mentioned it. "I am the biggest benefactor to the charity. I wrote the speech weeks ago before you and me …" I get choked up. Things were different weeks ago. That was before I met Alex.
Her jaw clenches, and her eyes turn to stone. Before I can correct myself, she cuts me off. "I think you should go get some air, then."
I'm sure that is code for I think you should leave me alone right now.
I sigh, feeling not only irate and hurt, but also terrible. I didn't mean anything by referencing the time before we met. Things were just simpler then.
I want to kiss her again before I turn away, but her eyes tell me not to. So, I turn around and make my way to the balcony, wishing I had another glass of scotch and hoping Derek minds his own fucking business.
ALEX TURNER
Jeremy walks out onto the balcony, and I have a myriad of thoughts flowing through my mind.
What did Jeremy mean by before he and I met?
Why didn't he tell me he was speaking at the event? Doesn't he understand that he almost died? And that stepping on stage might not be the best idea?
Why must he be distant now? He is closed off. How do I handle this?
I take a deep breath.
"Let him take a few moments, Turner. He'll come around."
I swivel around to lock eyes with Derek. They are surprisingly warm. "Thanks for the advice, but I don't know."
He hands me my earpiece as he eyes me. "C'mon, Turner, the man just found out his best friend tried to have him killed. That's a lot to process. And now he has to go face him."
I eye him apprehensively, wondering why he is being so supportive, but take it for what it's worth. "Maybe you're right."
He grins. "I am always right." There's the overbearing asshole I know and love.
I roll my eyes, put the earpiece in my ear, and watch him do the same. "Check one-two, check one-two. Can you hear me, Derek?"
He presses the earpiece in his ear. "Loud and clear. Surveillance unit, do you copy?"
I hear a rounding, "A-firm. Ten-four," in my ear, confirming our team already stationed at the event can hear us as well.
I listen in my earpiece. "I can't hear Jeremy."
Derek laughs. "It's because he isn't talking, dummy. He isn't practicing his speech out there."
I sigh as I peer through the sliding glass door and see Jeremy's wonderful profile. Sure enough, he is stoic and silent, looking out into the night, pondering who
knows what. Although, I have some ideas.
"Are you ready for this, Turner?"
I take in another deep breath. "Yes."
"Are you armed?"
"Of course." I smirk.
He grins at my response. "That's my girl. Here, take this and give this one to Hunt."
In the palm of his hand are two rectangular microchips with tiny antennas in the corner.
"Tracking devices?" I ask.
"To send a distress call, just in case. When you press the button, a team will be there in ten minutes, fifteen if there is traffic." He winks.
I laugh, nodding and taking the devices from his hand. "Where's my cell tracker?"
His eyes gleam with excitement. "New device for you." He slips what looks like a small sticker out of a sleeve from the briefcase. It can't be bigger than a dime.
"What is that?"
"New school." He grins. "Stick this on Marcus’s phone, and it will be able to scramble the current signal he has managed to encrypt, giving us the ability to tap into his cell line and record phone calls."
"What about personal e-mail?"
"Leave that to me. I want you to get Gibbs alone, and when you do manage to snatch his cell phone, I'll come up behind you, and snag it. That will give me the opportunity to put the bug on while you distract him. If I have time, I will get into his e-mail."
I nod, tensing at the idea of getting close to Marcus after hearing that it is his fault Jeremy almost got killed. How am I supposed to resist putting my gun to his head?
"Keep your head in the game, Turner,” Derek says, as if sensing my thoughts. “Don't get emotionally compromised on this. Follow the plan. Lure Gibbs and get me the phone. I will pass it back to you, and you will slip it back in his pocket. Easy peasy. Got it?"
"Got it."
Emotionally Compromised? Is that what I am? No, no, no. I won't let myself be. I am a professional, God dammit.
"And, Turner? Don't forget to brief Hunt on your identity. They can't know your real last name. This needs to go over without a hitch. After tonight, the rest should be easy."
"This isn't my first rodeo, Derek."
"I know. This one is a bit different though."
"Hmm." I hum my agreement, and then something crosses my mind. "Do me a favor and keep your eyes sharper than usual. With Jeremy going on stage, I worry. There is going to be a lot of people."
"I will."
I glance at the balcony. Jeremy is staring at me. His eyes look lost and angry, but he is trying to smile, the special one meant for me.
It's going to be all right, Jeremy. I promise.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Debrief & Arrival
ALEX TURNER
I slip in the chauffeured limo behind Jeremy, who has not really said a word since the balcony.
In my earpiece, I can hear Derek's voice: "Turner, I'm arriving separately and will make contact when I arrive. Over and out."
I try to whisper, "Ten-four."
Jeremy peeks over at me. "What was that?"
I ignore his question. "Jeremy, is everything all right?"
His mouth is set in a hard line, probably deciding whether to tell the truth. He grabs my hand from the plush leather, brings it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles sweetly before responding in a quiet monotone. "No, everything is not all right, but I will be fine."
The electric current that his lips elicit in me causes me to smile, but I am still worried.
"You look incredible, by the way, Miss Turner." He kisses my hand one last time before putting it down, but continues to rub my knuckles with his thumb. Despite being such slight contact, it makes my skin feel as if it is on fire.
His eyes glitter under the passing streetlamps, and I can see his adoring stare. I can't help it any longer. Releasing his hand, I scoot closer to him and kiss him possessively.
His shoulders tense at the surprise contact, but he tangles his fingers into my hair, anchoring my lips to him as he devours my mouth. His tongue tangles around mine, and I can hear a throaty groan before I pull away.
"Thank you. I needed that," he says, finally smiling.
I grin mischievously. "Always here to help, Mr. Hunt." I scoot only slightly away from him. His whole body is tense, but at least he is smiling. It's progress. "Jeremy, not to ruin the mood, but do you mind if I debrief you with details you need to know before we arrive?"
The smile vanishes, and he grabs for my hand again as if he is trying his damnedest not to be angry, and this is him showing that it isn't at me. "Sure." His voice is soft and strained.
I chew my lip for a moment and then begin. "First, you cannot call me Alex Turner anymore. Not tonight. You must introduce me as Alex Raven. Got it?"
"Alex Raven? I don't like that."
I smirk and wrinkle my nose. "We are improvising. I slipped up originally. Normally, I wouldn't even have given my real first name. Raven is my code name out in the field. Raven is also the easiest name for my team and me to remember. Can you manage it?"
He nods, watching me as his free hand strokes his chin with his long deft fingers. What is he thinking? I try not to get distracted and take it as my cue to go on.
"And I know this may be hard for you, but you must do whatever I say tonight—without question. I will know what is best, and there might be a moment where I need you to do something to help. Can you manage that?"
He appears to mull it over for a moment, and he seems to be holding back a smile. "I think so, but it will be tough."
I return with my own wry smile. "I'm sure it might be, but you have to try. Also"—I take in a deep breath—"I am going to have to talk to Marcus. Try not to get too jealous."
This time his response is immediate. "That I cannot promise. I am a jealous man, and you're mine. I will deal with these emotions as they arise, but I cannot promise I will deal with them well." His eyes heat, melting the frost only slightly.
I set my lips in a hard line. "OK, well, try to keep yourself in line. I know this event was originally planned for fun, but now it is strictly business."
His jaw clenches, and he turns to look out his window. Not satisfied that he understands, I tug on the sleeve of his tuxedo. He turns toward me, nodding as if to ask, what?
"My goal is also to be a good date, Jeremy."
I'm so worried about his mood that when he leans in to kiss me, I gasp in surprise, but allow his lips to mold over mine. When he pulls away, we stare into each other's eyes, getting lost for a moment.
The car slows, and I realize we must already be there. I smile and place a final chaste kiss on his lips. "One more thing, babe."
His lips twitch at the endearment. "What's that?"
I pull out one of the tracking devices Derek gave me. "This is a distress call device. Press the center and someone will be there in ten to fifteen minutes."
He takes it and places it into his inner jacket pocket without even giving it a once-over, as if the thing might bite. "Is that entirely necessary?"
I shrug. "Doesn't matter if it's necessary. It's a just-in-case measure. Considering what happened yesterday, I want to do everything in my power to keep you safe. So don't leave my sight either." Catching him off guard, I boop him on the tip of his nose with my finger. Luckily, he grins! I think—more like I hope—the night is saved.
The limo comes to a stop, and the moment has come. Pay or play, Agent Turner.
I take a deep breath and stare out the window. Lots of people and flashing cameras. Oh God, I forgot about the public and the glitzy-ness involved. Jeremy Hunt is considered an A-lister at an event like this—and who am I?
You are a federal agent ready to kick some ass, that's who!
I snicker at my ever-ready subconscious. She's right, I am.
Jeremy takes my hand, now managing a smile as he kisses my fingertips, his eyes locked on me. "Are you ready?"
He knows I'm nervous, and it only reminds me of how utterly perfect he is. Bad temper, controlling, and jealousy aside. It's thos
e imperfections I like the most.
I smile. "I'm ready."
On cue, the door to the limo opens, and the roar of the crowd and flashing cameras replace the silence. Yikes. Deep breaths.
I can tell Jeremy doesn't want to let go of me as I climb out. He always seems to be touching me. Whether it's his hand at the small of my back or intertwined around mine, he doesn't want to leave my side, and I am thankful. The feeling is mutual.
The gun strapped to my leg reassures me as I stretch my smile for the waiting cameras and eager faces.
I can hear Derek in my ear: "Nice pep talk, Turner. Now you got this."
I nod at my best friend, who seems to be hidden in the crowd.
He's right. I've got this.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Earning Trust
ALEX TURNER
I let my eyes scan the event for any familiar or dangerous faces, but find none. It's not as if I wasn't used to that, but I wanted something to focus on. I wonder where Derek has gone. Always the chameleon.
We have almost entered the building of Boston's Museum of Fine Arts, and the bash really is a remarkable sight. There are groups of people filing inside, snapping photos from the lavish entry while following a rich forest-green carpet. Cameras continue to flash, and there is a loud hum from the crowd. The buzz gives the whole event a wonderful, electric ambiance.
Jeremy's hand wraps around my waist as he leads me toward the entrance. The contact makes me smile, and when I turn to look up at him, he is staring at me.
"I think I might have the prettiest date here." He grins. I am glad he seems to have salvaged his mood.
I roll my eyes, smirking as I take a gander at all the other pretty women dressed in the most beautiful gowns. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Hunt."
He grins and looks away at an oncoming reporter. "I beg to differ, Miss Raven." His face contorts at the mention of my alias.
I hold back my smile as a pudgy man with matted, greased-down hair stumbles toward us, holding a large camera with an even larger flash.