by Misty Evans
Serbia
FAT CAT’S, A pub and pool hall, sat in the middle of a low valley, a long, flat building with loud music and a dozen motorcycles outside in the parking lot, lit by the moon and nothing else.
“No cameras,” Megadeth said, climbing the hill to stand at Charlotte’s side. Miles stood on her other. “Sixteen men, four women, the bartender. That’s it.”
Frigid air cut through the layers of clothes Charlotte wore and made her teeth chatter. Snowflakes fell lazily, dotting the valley with white here and there.
They’d stopped in Switzerland to refuel, the hours onboard the plane eating at her. Miles had come back, like he’d promised, and insisted his boss was not to blame for MI6 showing up at the Van Nuys airport. They discussed possible other alternatives to how those men had found her, but not one of them seemed logical. Miles had disappeared into the cockpit again without touching her, kissing her.
During the flight, she’d read an entire Robert B. Parker novel, flipped through a dozen magazines showing fashion models, European architecture, and the latest NBA players, but her mind spun with scenarios about the upcoming journey to the caves. They’d finally made it to Serbia, along the Romanian border, Miles setting the plane down near an abandoned farmhouse behind an old barn. Inside the barn were two old Land Rovers and a Jeep.
Along with the motorcycles down below in the parking lot, a couple of beat up, but rugged trucks sat side by side. Neither was better than what they were driving, although both were better equipped than motorcycles for the terrain in these parts. The bikers wouldn’t let a few snowflakes stop them, though. They’d ride all winter long.
They had a vehicle, but they needed money and supplies. “Miles, go inside the bar, start a tab, and work your way into a pool game. I’ll join you and we’ll make off with enough cash to get us where we need to go. Megadeth, you’re the muscle in case something goes wrong. Stay outside and watch for trouble. When I show up, Miles, pretend you don’t know me. Follow my lead. I’ll handle the rest.”
“I have money,” Miles said.
“You have American dollars. We need euros, and we don’t have time to exchange money.” She shucked her sweatshirt, took the hem of the shirt underneath and tied it on the side, revealing a hint of her stomach. “I know a few tricks at the table. I can get all the cash we need.”
Miles shook his head. “I don’t like it. There has to be another, safer way.”
Megadeth surveyed the area, his breath fogging in the cold air. “What exactly are you planning to do?”
She shook out her braid, ran some lipstick she’d taken from the safe house over her lips. “Lose a couple of pool games to Miles. Win a couple more from someone else.”
Megadeth smiled. “Brilliant idea.”
At the same time, Miles shook his head, more vigorously this time, and said, “Terrible idea.”
“You put us down in Serbia,” Charlotte countered. “It’s ten miles to the border, another hundred to the mountains to the spot where we’re going. We need supplies, a map, money for bribes. This is where we start.”
Miles’ voice was terse. “This was the best option for an airstrip that’s not on any maps. We’re trying to stay under the radar, remember?”
She didn’t ask how he knew about the abandoned farm. He seemed to be quite familiar with the area.
A snowflake landed in his hair, sparkling under the moonlight. “You’re calling attention to yourself if you cheat some guys out of their paychecks. This is not exactly low-profile.”
“Who said I was going to cheat?”
“You’re that good at pool?” Megadeth asked.
“Taught William a thing or two.”
Both men looked at her.
“Prince William? Surely you’ve heard of him.”
Megadeth chuckled. “You taught Willy how to play pool?”
“Don’t be silly. He knew how to play pool, but he’d never played with me.” Her bones felt so cold, she thought they might splinter if she didn’t get inside where it was warm, pronto. “Need I remind you, this is my op. If you’re a part of it, we do things my way.”
“What if Bourean’s men show up?” Miles said.
“I doubt Nicolae has men here in the backwoods watering hole. And all I’m going to do is give a couple of guys a funny story to tell down the road.”
With that, she took off for Fat Cat’s.
Three hours later
CHARLOTTE WAS LAUGHING as she drove them back to the plane, her breath clouding in front of her. “Did you see that guy’s eyes when I used his skull ring to divert the last ball into the pocket? Priceless.”
They bumped over the rough terrain and around a curve. Her eyes shone from the dashboard lights, her hands gripped the steering wheel. She’d found a pair of fingerless gloves in the backseat and put them on, the extra-large gloves engulfing her small hands.
Jax had decided to stay at the bar after a pretty woman going in with some friends gave him a wink and come-hither stare. No one inside had seen him with Miles and Charlotte so Miles had okay’d it. They had plenty of euros now and the skull ring in question was on Charlotte’s middle finger.
He didn’t like it, but he had to give her props. Her trick pool shots had mesmerized the crowd, cheers ringing out whenever she sank a ball. Cash had piled up on the corner of the table, people giving her various props and betting she couldn’t use them to make the complicated and difficult shots.
She was damn good at straight pool too. He hadn’t had to fake losing to her the first few games.
While they were flush with cash now, what they didn’t have was supplies. Stores in the town three miles away wouldn’t open until morning. They were spending the night in the plane.
What was left of the night, anyway. It was 2 a.m.
Miles suspected Jax was giving him time alone with Charlotte as much as pursuing a Serbian hookup. Not the best thing to leave the man alone at the bar, but the former SEAL knew how to handle himself and understood the seriousness of staying under the radar.
Truth was, if he screwed up and called attention to himself, Miles was prepared to leave him behind and call in reinforcements to get him out of Europe. He wouldn’t let Jax or anyone else take a fall for him, but he also wasn’t about to let him jeopardize the mission.
The plane came into view as they crested a hill. “Where did you learn to do those tricks with the glasses and stuff?”
Her smile faltered. She cleared her throat. “My father. He was quite the pool shark. And a physics professor.”
There was so much he didn’t know about her. This tiny peek into her past fascinated him.
So did the idea of getting her undressed.
Later.
What he did know about her was a slim volume of facts in the file Beatrice had sent to his phone that he’d read in the air over Switzerland. “I thought your father was Royal Air Force.”
Her eyes cut to him. “How did you know that?”
A woman like her would hate that he’d dug into her background. That he hadn’t just asked her. Would she have told him the truth? He doubted it. She’d been a spy for so long, been keeping secrets for so long, she might never trust him with the truth.
But it was time to start being honest with each other.
His libido didn’t agree. Telling her Beatrice had run a background check and gathered information for him would kill any possibility he was getting inside her before the sun came up. If he told her about Hardy and the fact he and his SEAL team had helped the operatives try to find her nine months ago, she would never speak to him again. “When I got back to the States, I dug up information on you.” That was the truth. “Sue me, I was damn curious and pretty fucking determined to find you again.”
“You didn’t know who I was. How could dig up anything on me?”
“I sketched your picture, ran it through some fancy facial rec software Shadow Force owns. It told me who you were. The rest wasn’t easy—MI6 guards your personal information
like Fort Knox.”
She slowed the truck. Her voice, and her eyes, softened. “You sketched me?”
That tone, that look, made his libido sit up again. He shrugged a shoulder. “Guess it was good enough to get a hit.”
“Damn.” She smiled, her shoulders relaxing along with the rest of her. Apparently that whole Titanic Jack-sketching-Rose thing worked on women. “You never told me you were an artist. That’s so cool. And you must be quite talented if your sketch got a hit through facial recognition.”
Yep, definitely working. Her tone suggested sex was a possible future option. “We didn’t talk a lot about our talents and skills for those few weeks we were together.”
“Mmm.” She steered the Land Cruiser to a spot behind the barn and killed the engine. Moonlight bounced off the airplane’s wings a few yards away in the field. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “Look, I know things between us are complicated. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you about myself, I just can’t. There’s too much…rubbish…in my past. I don’t like to rehash it. Some of it I can’t tell you, or anyone, because it would endanger you. Just knowing me could get you killed, even before the whole Nico incident. It’s a lot to walk around with day in and day out.”
She twisted in the seat to face him, lifting one knee and laying it on the console between them. “I feel like I have two relationships with you—which is funny, since I have, like, no relationships with anyone else.”
He was still thinking about getting her into the airplane and out of her clothes. After a pause, he realized she was waiting for him to catch up. “Sorry, two relationships?”
“I shared this incredible six weeks of fantasy life with you, and yet, I barely know who you are.”
Fantasy life. That’s what they’d had. And then real life had intruded, putting her at Bourean’s mercy. “I’m the same man I was in the cabin.”
“But I’m not the same woman. That woman…she only existed for those few weeks with you. Now, she’s on the run, and I don’t know how to start over with you when I have all of this hanging over me. I’ve had to play too many roles, be too many different people. Honestly, I don’t even know who I am anymore. What I want.”
He picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “We have time to figure that out.”
Her fingers intertwined with his. “That’s the thing, Miles, we don’t. Until I clear my name and put Bourean behind bars, I can’t have any kind of a normal life. You deserve better than that.”
Wait. Was she blowing him off? Was this the “just friends” speech? “How about you let me decide what works for me and what doesn’t?”
She leaned her temple against the headrest, and even in the shadowy interior, he could feel her stare, see the intelligence in her eyes. She was running him like she had the balls on the pool table tonight. Not just calculating one or two balls ahead, but playing the entire game out in her head before her cue touched the first ball.
As she stared at him, holding his hand, she was doing the same with their relationship. Running every option, figuring out every move she should or shouldn’t make.
On one hand, it pissed him off. Why couldn’t she be the carefree, spur-of-the-moment woman he’d worshipped in that cabin? Why couldn’t she trust him enough to at least try at this thing they had?
On the other hand, he hadn’t been completely honest with her. He’d never been good with long-term relationships. He had too many quirks, too much love for danger and the high that came from a successful mission. Mostly, he wanted to get in her pants and see if he could replay that time in the mountains. He needed to get her out of his system. Then she could go back to playing spy and he could forget this silly notion he was in love with her.
She squeezed his fingers. “After this is over, if I’m still…alive and not in prison…maybe we can start over.”
After? What about now?
He tugged their combined hands toward his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Why wait? Hell, we could both die here tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather get started on the do-over asap.”
For half a second, he thought for sure she was going to take him up on the offer right there in the front seat of the cab. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth and chuckled. Then ran her tongue over her lips and leaned forward over their steepled hands, planting those soft, moist lips on his.
He kissed her back, enjoying the way her lips parted, allowing him access. The way her tongue danced with his. The way she moaned…
But then she drew back—tongue, lips, even her hand, leaving him. “I wish I could, Miles.” Her face was in the moonlight now, brows furrowed, tears pooling in her eyes. “I do, but…”
“But what?”
She shook her head. “I have to finish my op. Period. My mission comes first. Otherwise, the death of your men, and everything I endured under Nicolae’s hands will be for nothing. He and that terrorist will be free to keep hurting people. Please understand, I can’t get distracted by an affair, and you are a huge distraction for me.”
Once again, conflicting logic waged war in his head. She was wildly attracted to him—plus. However, she wasn’t going to act on it—negative.
How could he convince her that they were on the same side, that they shared the same goals?
Grabbing her hand again, he forced it open and intertwined their fingers. “I have no intention of going home without nailing the bastard who brought that helo down and killed my team. I will help you complete your mission as well, but believe me when I say that I will never stop trying to seduce you. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you, Charlotte, and outside of seeing justice done for my men, the one thing I want more than anything is to get you back under me. I want to make you shudder and come apart under me, screaming my name when you do it. We will be together again, and I’m not allowing a timeline or anything else to get in the way.”
She said nothing, leaving the keys in the ignition and bailing out of the Land Cruiser. He didn’t go after her as she hustled for the plane, watching her sweet ass sway and her hair fly out behind her in the moonlight.
Oh, yes, darlin’, you can run, but you won’t get far.
He’d seen the lust flare in her eyes when he’d mentioned being under him. Seen the way she’d licked her lips again. Her mind told her to keep their relationship professional, but her body was betraying her. It wouldn’t be long until that very female side of her took control.
He’d be ready.
Chapter Ten
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CHARLOTTE RUSTLED AROUND in the shot bottles, shining her tiny flashlight on the labels. Champagne, gin, whiskey…
There. She grabbed the bottle with the green and blue label, then felt a presence behind her.
She’d shed her coat even though the plane was cold. Warmer than outside, but the latent heat it had built up on the flight over was long gone. “I’m heading to Mexico,” she said, lifting the tiny tequila bottle to show it to Miles. “Where would you like to go? Jamaica?” She held up the rum bottle. Then the vodka. “Russia?”
His eyes were heavy on her in the circle of light from her flashlight. “Why don’t you get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.” He turned his back on her, walking away and tapping one of the overhead bins. “Blankets are up here.”
She didn’t need a blanket, his words from the cab of the truck pinging around inside her like tiny missiles, heating her from the inside. “Miles…”
He stopped but didn’t turn.
She stammered. Truth be told, she didn’t know what to say even if he did face her.
What if he was right? What if the op went sideways and this was their last night together? Their last few moments alone? Was she going to waste it sleeping?
Unanswered questions. Hate them.
Her silence finally made him look over his shoulder. “What is it, Charlotte?”
&n
bsp; God, she sucked at this. Give her a cabal to infiltrate, a mafia lord to bring down, a terrorist cell to take out. But this…
Her finger trembled as she shut off the flashlight, sudden darkness enveloping them. “I can’t sleep,” she whispered.
“Fine. You take first watch and let me sleep. I could use some.”
His boots made a slight shuffling noise as he once again started for the front of the plane.
“My father,” she started, clearing her throat, “was Tactical Intelligence in the Royal Air Force, but he was first and foremost a physicist. He had a lot of ideas about the mechanics of pool that he tested with me when I was a kid, including my 3D perception and stroke control. As I got better at 9-shot, he upped the ante with trick shots. I prefer domino setups, but since I didn’t have dominoes tonight, I used other props.”
The footsteps stopped. Charlotte put down the bottles of liquid courage and stepped into the main cabin. Enough light from outside seeped through the windows that she could see Miles standing there, a few feet away, all broad shoulders and long, lean planes, the grey shadows dancing over his body. His angled cheekbones came into view when he leaned forward slightly, propping his big hands on the seats flanking him in the aisle. “Go on.”
He understood what she was doing—sharing a sliver of her past.
She wanted to rush him, to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him for his patience. “My mother was a homemaker. She made us matching dresses until I was ten and I insisted she stop. It was cute when I was a toddler, but the embarrassment when I got older was too much. Telling her that crushed her feelings. She was just trying to be a proper mother—her own had been less…conventional. Mum wanted to prove she was normal. I regret hurting her feelings to this day, but honestly, those dresses were dreadful. Purple and yellow gingham was her favorite. Every family picture we had made from the time I was a baby until that tenth birthday, she and I were dressed in matching gingham.”
His chuckle was low and light. “Sounds horrible, but kinda sweet.”