by Rose, Renee
He pulls me into the embrace I was craving, and even though I was resolved to keep my emotional distance, I immediately melt into him. His strong arms are like the safety bars on this rollercoaster ride we’re on. The one that only grows more frightening every minute it continues.
When he pulls away, he has that blank expression on his face. His game face. I’m not sure what it means. “Where did you hit the wolf, Annabel?”
“In the hip,” I admit. “Left flank.”
“Is that what you aimed for?”
I go still. It’s a strange question, almost like he knew what happened back there. A prickle of defensiveness stiffens my spine. “Yes.”
I can hear my basic training arms instructor shouting at me now. Aim to kill or don’t shoot at all. This isn’t television. Don’t shoot their kneecaps when your life’s at stake. If you’re not willing to kill, don’t draw your weapon.
I lift my chin and match Charlie’s stare. I don’t need a lecture from him.
“You know what I’m going to say,” he says quietly, and I swear I hear sympathy in his voice.
I nod.
He touches my face, runs his thumb along my cheekbone. “I’m glad you can handle yourself with a gun,” is all he murmurs, sparing me a lecture.
I flash him a grateful look.
“Go on, get some sleep. We’ll leave before dawn.”
I’m disappointed even though we can’t sleep together, and there’s nothing more to say. He cups my nape and pulls me into him to drop a kiss on my forehead.
I smile faintly at the gesture.
Don’t get used to it.
This adventure with Charlie Dune is a one-off. If I get out of this alive, we’ll be parting when it’s over.
Still, I like the way he makes me feel.
The safety and protection his presence means to me.
No, it’s so much more than that. It’s raw attraction, fascination with his prowess—both mental and physical—and a genuine connection.
But that still doesn’t mean this can go anywhere.
6
Charlie
Annabel’s burner phone rings on our way down the mountain. She looks at the screen, then meets my inquiring gaze. “Washington, D.C. It might be Senator Flack.”
“Answer it.”
Her hands tremble a bit as she slides the phone on. “Agent Gray speaking.”
“Annabel, hi. This is Senator Flack returning your call.” With my new and improved hearing, there’s no conversation I can’t eavesdrop on—including Annabel and her sister’s yesterday about me. The senator sounds warm and friendly, almost grandfatherly.
“Senator, thank you for calling me back. I know you were director of the CIA when my father died, and I remember you coming to the funeral.”
“Yes, that’s true. Your father was a friend of mine, Annabel. He was employed as a covert agent under me.”
“Can you tell me what his mission was when he died?”
Senator Flack goes quiet for a moment. “You know I can’t do that, Annabel. You should know better than to ask. It’s way above your security clearance.”
“Yes, I understand that. I do. I just wanted to know... well, never mind. You’re right. I shouldn’t ask.”
“Annabel, your father died a hero. He served his country. It makes no difference whether he did it for the Marines or the CIA.”
“Right. Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”
The Senator goes on a bit about keeping America strong against our enemies, one of his main platforms when he runs for office. It’s a bunch of political hot air, but he the way he preaches it is compelling.
“Annabel, are you at Langley?”
“No, Senator, I’m in California.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I would say we could have lunch sometime if you want. I can share some old stories about your dad.”
She glances at me, and I nod—meeting with this guy could give us more information. “Actually, I’m headed to the Capitol today. I’d love to have lunch. Would tomorrow work?”
“Yes, yes that would work nicely,” he booms. “Call me tomorrow morning, and I’ll give you a location.”
“Sounds great, thanks.” She hangs up. “Did you get all that?” she asks me.
I nod. I may have a big secret to keep from her, but I won’t lie if I don’t have to. She might just assume my excellent hearing is part of my field agent super skills. “It doesn’t sound like he knows.”
“Yeah,” she gnaws her lip. “But he was the director the CIA at the time. Is it possible there was a cover-up—kept from him?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure we can get the answers if we keep digging. Is that what you want?” I notice she backed down with Flack. Maybe she’s ready to drop this.
She nods, still looking distant.
I take my right hand off the wheel and grab hers. “Hey, whatever happens, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll find the whole story about your dad.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Don’t be afraid of the truth. You’re strong. You can handle it.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” she whispers. Fuck, but I love my name on her lips.
So does my cock. It perks up, ready to stand at attention.
Down, boy. Now is not the time.
“So,” I say a bit louder to get her attention and my own thoughts under control. “Are you ready for this?”
“Absolutely,” she almost giggles, but it’s a nervous laugh. I can smell the fear radiating off her thanks to my new and improved mutant senses.
She’s not a field agent. Hell, she pulled her shot when my wolf was going to break down the door and kill her family. I’m not used to second-guessing my decisions, but I’m doing so now.
“I could go in alone. You don’t have to come with me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I need access to Tentrite’s office and see for myself what she’s hiding. Besides, I wouldn’t let you do this alone. I hate that I roped you into all of this, but here we are. We’re a team. For better or for worse.”
For better or for worse. I hope it doesn’t come to that. Still, the scent of her fear plays on my ingrained need to protect her. Shelter her.
“It’s going to be near impossible.” I have a plan that will get us in under the radar, but still...
“I love a challenge.” Her voice is steady, her gaze resolute. She may be scared, but there’s no way I’m talking her out of this.
The defiant gleam in her eyes combined with the heady anticipation of danger makes my cock strain its confines. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can have her spread out under me.
“Get ready.” I shift the car gears and pull onto the main road. “We’re gonna break into the CIA.”
* * *
Annabel
Charlie Dune is a madman. That’s all I can conclude. Who breaks into the CIA? Holy shit, I’m about to break into the freaking CIA!
When we realized Agent Tentrite wiped my dad’s file, I was ready to call the trail a dead end.
“Not so fast,” Charlie said. “There are two reasons Tentrite would meddle. The first is if she was involved in your dad’s career.”
“That wouldn’t make sense, she wasn’t around at the time of his service.”
“So, it’s the second reason. Someone ordered her to do it.”
“Who?”
“That’s what we have to find out.” A search through Tentrite’s file didn’t reveal any connection to my dad at all.
“That’s the first reason ruled out completely,” Charlie muttered. “Now we work on the second.”
Which brought us to the present moment.
“So, what are we going to do?” I ask, trying not to squirm in my seat of the rental car. We’re waiting in a parking lot of a shopping mall.
“Break into your boss’s office. Look for evidence of who ordered her to terminate your dad’s file.”
“I know that.” The thought of committing an act of espionage against m
y own employer has been the only thing on my mind since Charlie first suggested it. “I meant how are we going to do it?”
“Trust me.” Charlie gets out of the car as a nondescript van pulls up next to us. An older man in a navy jumpsuit exits the driver seat.
“Hey, Charlie.” The man’s face breaks into a grin.
“Otis.” Charlie pumps the man’s hand. “Good to see you.”
“Where you been?”
“Here and there. You know how it is.”
“I do, I do. Hello, there,” Otis greets me as I approach.
Charlie puts his arm around my shoulders. “This is my friend. Her father used to work in the service.”
“Pleasure, pleasure.” Otis bobs his head. I note that Charlie doesn’t use my name.
“Did you get my message?” Charlie asks.
“I did. I think it’ll work. I usually have a crew working that floor tonight, anyway.”
“What?” I gasp. How often had this guy broken in?
They chuckle at my shocked expression. “Otis works there,” Charlie says as Otis opens the side of the van door and pulls out matching overalls.
“Today,” Otis says, “you do too.”
* * *
“This feels like a long game,” I whisper to Charlie as we walk down a corridor. We’re in the basement of the CIA, having infiltrated as janitors. Not the scale-and-rappel Mission Impossible kind of action I was expecting—kinda anti-climactic, really—but certainly effective.
“It pays to be nice to people,” he whispers back and holds a door open for me. I push a janitor’s cart. We pass a guy in a suit, headed home after a long night. His eyes skim past our uniforms and cleaning supplies like we’re invisible.
I wait until we’re in the elevator to turn to him. “Seriously, did you know you’d be doing this someday?”
He shrugs. “It seemed like a possibility.”
I bug my eyes out at him.
“Otis is a friend,” he explains. “He owes me a few favors.”
“And he just happens to work at the CIA?”
“Used to be in the field. He got injured and didn’t want to sit and collect disability checks.”
Come to think of it, I noticed Otis walked with a slight limp. “So, he became a janitor?”
“He likes to keep an eye on things. Make sure the higher-ups are doing the right thing by their spies. Sometimes, the desk jockeys aren’t as loyal to us in the field as they should be. Otis watches the watchers.” Charlie holds a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell my handler.”
I stare at him a moment, trying to figure out what else I don’t know about Dune the soldier-spy. What other interesting friends he has.
“What?” he murmurs.
“You’re different than I thought.” He stiffens slightly, so I add, “Not in a bad way. I just remember when I first met you, I thought you were an arrogant hot-shot. I never guessed you’d be willing to help me this far. Or have a backdoor into the CIA.”
“I have a little depth.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “And I’m discerning about where my loyalties should lie.” His gaze heats the space between us, and I nod, swallowing. In this close space, there’s suddenly not a lot of air.
The elevator opens on the floor of Tentrite’s office, and Charlie takes over, pushing the cart down the hallway. He goes right up to Tentrite’s door and opens it with Otis’ key.
“Anything out of place?” Charlie asks.
I look around, pulse jumping. I’ve been in here before for routine meetings, but this is totally illicit. We’ve been threatened, chased, shot at. If I get caught in here, there’s a good chance the government will make me disappear—permanently. No, maybe I’m over-analyzing.
“What’s the penalty for this, do you think?”
“I think we better get through our search and leave before someone catches us and we find out.” He gives me a gentle push.
Yeah, I wasn’t overanalyzing.
We search in silence, wearing gloves. Fortunately, it fits in with the janitor act. I dust a little as I go, just to make our cover credible. Tentrite has every award she ever won on display. A few statues litter her bookshelves—trophies from a volleyball championship in college. I’m surprised she doesn’t have ones from middle and high school as well. I dust while rolling my eyes.
Charlie searches the desk. When I pass close to him, he’s meddling with the phone.
“You’re bugging the phone?”
“Yeah.” He shows me the tiny patch. “New issue to field agents.”
“Won’t she recognize it?”
“Only if she thinks to look. Which hopefully won’t happen for a few days. That’s all we need.” He sounds so confident I believe him.
“What about her files?”
“Nothing of note.” His face changes. “Someone’s coming. Get in position.”
Heart pounding, I grab a window wand and a bottle of cleaner. Dune ducks behind the desk—I guess it would seem weird to have two janitors in one office. I keep my face turned to the glass. My hands shake so hard, I almost drop the bottle—twice—before spritzing the window. The wiper clatters on the glass.
Steady, Annabel. You got this. Is it weird that my inner cheerleader sounds like Charlie?
I listen hard for footsteps and finally hear them down the hall. Charlie must have super spy senses to pick up on such a slight noise. I guess that’s why he’s a field agent and I’m not.
I tune everything out and focus on being the best one-night janitor ever. I spray more cleanser and get into a rhythm—wipe, wipe, spray, wipe, wipe, spray. It’s almost soothing, and it keeps my attention until Charlie stands up.
“All right,” he says. “They’re gone.”
“About time.” I let my arms drop, limp with the strain of acting normal. I’ve been cleaning the same spot on the window over and over. If I had to play janitor much longer, Agent Tentrite would be walking in tomorrow to a hole in her window. “Who are all these weirdos working late?”
“You’re one to talk,” Charlie snorts as he continues searching the file cabinet. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”
I feel a pang remembering how many times I talked about doing Disneyland with Sarah and Grady but never really planned anything. No, I haven’t done anything fun since... I don’t know. Elementary school?
I force a smile. “This week actually. I’ll have you know I had a relaxing stay in a cabin in the woods.”
“Really? Sounds creepy.”
I have a snappy comment ready when I remember the giant wolf that tried to get inside. I swallow, my stomach flip-flopping in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that I’m rifling through the papers on my boss’s desk.
“It wasn’t so bad. Except for this annoying guy who kept hanging around while I was trying to relax.” I glance over and see a shadow of a smile on Charlie’s face.
“Annoying guy? Could be trouble.”
“I think I can handle him.”
“I think he won’t know what hit him.”
I turn back to my search. My pulse is high, my blood humming with happiness. Adrenaline has hit, and I’m not nervous anymore. Just... giddy.
Either that or I’m falling in love with Charlie, the super spy.
He crouches and opens a file cabinet door. “Bingo. Found the safe.”
I peer over his shoulder at the black box that looks like it means business. “Can you crack it?”
“Fingerprint and voice recognition,” he indicates the fingerprint pad, and I slump.
“Damn.”
“Hang on. Don’t give up yet,” he murmurs and reaches into his overalls. “Otis gave us a few gifts.” He pulls a black cloth over his finger and shows me the pad on the end.
“Her fingerprint?”
“Lifted fresh this morning.” He presses his cloth covered finger down on the pad and waits for the beep before lifting the finger to his lips to keep me quiet. His left hand produces another long and slender si
lver device. When he hits the button, Agent Tentrite’s voice states her full name clearly.
I hold my breath until the safe clicks open.
“Jackpot,” Charlie mutters. He pulls files out by the handful, setting some aside, giving the rest to me.
In silence, we page through everything. Charlie stops me once or twice, closing the cabinet door when he thinks he hears someone coming. I obey even though I never hear a thing. He really does have super spy senses.
The clock above our heads ticks on as we sift through the files. I hand each one back as I’m done with it, and Charlie replaces it carefully in the safe. Leave it to him to know exactly how it was organized.
His breath catches for a second, and I raise my head. “Find something?”
“Nope.”
Drat. “I guess it’s too much to expect a file marked Conspiracy, Do Not Read.”
Charlie’s lips quirk. “That’d be convenient. Somehow I think your boss is more circumspect.”
But then I see one file stuffed inside another file. My heart quickens, fingers tremble as I yank it out. My gasp makes Charlie turn.
“It’s my dad’s,” I confirm. I want to stuff it in our janitor trash can, run to a better lit room and read it.
“Here,” Charlie grabs the contents of another file and switches them with my dad’s.
“Will that fool her?”
“With a little luck.” Charlie tosses the file into the trash can and hands the trash bag to me. “A few days is all we need. Come on.” We slip out of the office.
“Hey,” a male voice booms. A guy in a rumpled suit and prematurely wrinkled face walks toward us with squeaky shoes.
I give a little shriek and knock the mop off the cart. “Oh! Um, what?”
“Since when do janitors work in pairs?”
Charlie’s body language changes to slumpy. He gives his nose a swipe with the back of his hand. “I’m trainin’ her.” His voice inflection is totally different—like he’s bored and belligerent at once. “Otis didn’t have time.”
The guy gives us both a thorough look, one that has my stomach sinking to my shoes. Even if we get away in this moment, he’s going to remember both our faces. It will be simple to identify us.