The Spy Who Left Me: An Agent Ex Novel

by Gina Robinson

  That’s all he can think of, his stupid card? Treflee had begun to have pangs of guilt over opening old wounds and one very new one that had started bleeding again into the water. But now she was just angry.

  She glared at him as she touched her braid. “It’s still there.”

  She pointed toward his leg in the water. “You’re creating a blood slick. Do something about that leg before you start attracting sharks.”

  He shot her a stony look and pushed himself up, pulling her to a stand with him.

  They walked to the boat, his arm slung over her shoulder as he leaned on her, both wincing like two people wading through glass. At the boat, she handed Ty up first. He scowled at her chivalry.

  “What’s this?” Greg pulled them in and shook their cuffed arms. “Resorted to the old ‘cuffing yourself together’ form of marriage counseling, have you?”

  Ty collapsed onto a cushioned bench seat, tumbling Treflee next to him. “Took you long enough to get here. Got any fresh water?”

  Greg handed him a water bottle. “I had a little matter of a concussion to deal with.”

  Ty rinsed his wound with the water, sighing with relief. “Good thing you have a hard head. I was worried Zulu had killed you.”

  “I’m touched by your concern, man. That Zulu is one silent, slippery bastard.” Greg shook his head. “What happened to you?”

  Treflee brushed the hair out of her eyes with her free hand and took a deep breath. Safe at last. “Zulu shot him in the leg. We need to get him to the hospital. He’s been threatening to bleed out on me all night.”

  “What a romantic dude,” Greg said.

  Ty held their cuffed hands toward him. “Get us out of these.”

  “Don’t tell me you want your freedom from the old ball and chain already?” Greg reached into his shoe and pulled out a universal handcuff key.

  Treflee turned an accusing look on Ty. “What happened to your shoe key?”

  “Left it in my high-tops.”

  Greg laughed. “Liar. He hasn’t earned his shoe key yet.” He unlocked them.

  She was finally free. Treflee rubbed her wrist and stood up, allowing Ty to stretch his leg across the seat. “How did you find us?”

  “Tracking device.” Greg pulled out a first-aid kit and opened it. “Let’s take a look at that leg.”

  “Tracking device? Where?” It wasn’t in her teeny, weeny bikini. Treflee looked at Ty. “In your pants?” It was the only place she could think of.

  “No, that would be a homing device,” Greg said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Ty shot him a dirty look. “The thing in your hair.”

  Ty turned on his stomach so Greg could see the wound better. “Did I mention it also self-destructs when commanded? I’d be careful if I were you.”

  Her hand flew to her hair. She pulled the device out and handed it to Greg as if holding out a bomb. Let Emmett and the rest of the NCS gang keep tabs on Greg for a while.

  The men cracked up, but she didn’t know whether it was because they were kidding or because they found her reaction amusing.

  Greg pocketed the device and took a quick peek at Ty’s leg. “This is nothing. Just a flesh wound.”

  “What is it with you guys and ‘just flesh wounds’?” Treflee watched Greg wipe Ty’s bullet hole with antiseptic. “Am I the only one who’s worried?”

  The two guys stared at her as if she’d just won the world worry wart title.

  “Yeah,” Ty finally said, gritting his teeth as Greg knelt beside him and wrapped a bandage around his calf.

  “We’ll get him looked at.” Greg spoke sympathetically. He winked at her. Out from beneath his plain-sidekick cover, he was an attractive and confident guy. “But in my nonmedical, unprofessional opinion, he’ll live.” He pulled several spare life jackets out of a storage bin and lifted Ty’s leg up onto them. “Let’s get this elevated.”

  Treflee took a calming breath. They were in a boat. The sun was shining. They were going to be okay, except—

  “Shouldn’t we be motoring out of gunfire range before the big Zu gets back? Or one of his stakeout goons takes a potshot at us?”

  “We took out the stakeout goon. Zu won’t be coming back. Carrie and the girls apprehended him and turned him over to the ‘cops.’ The cops were really our guys. Don’t worry. We won’t let Zu and his crew get away,” Greg said.

  Treflee shot Ty a smug look. He ignored it.

  “They heard a noise at the van and thought Kane had found them. The rest was a melee of killer estrogen. Or so Zu and his boys said when I came to and rescued them.

  “Gotta give the ladies credit. Those girls are vicious. They had Zu and his men bound and subdued with a patchwork of hot-pink rhinestone bracelets, tent ropes, stakes, taffeta flip-flops, leis, and coconut-rum bottles.”

  Ty looked like he was having a hard time picturing that particular scene. “Only the bottles? Hope they didn’t waste the rest of the good stuff I left in the bar. I could use a stiff shot.”

  Treflee got the visual immediately. “I told you Carrie can take care of herself. I hope Carrie wrapped a lei around Zulu’s neck and gave it a great big wrench for me. Aloha, mahalo Zulu!”

  “Vicious,” Greg said.

  “She’s not a forgiving woman,” Ty said.

  Zing! Another direct hit.

  Treflee crossed her arms. “Why should I feel the love for people who try to kill me?”

  Ty gave her his hard-assed angry-husband glare. “What about for people who’ve saved you repeatedly, Tref? Feel any loyalty or love for them?”

  Treflee averted her eyes and bit back a tart response. She’d hurt him enough already.

  Greg cleared his throat and rose to a stand beside Treflee. “Back to the real enemy here. We have another problem. Hal has disappeared.”

  “Hal’s disappeared?” Ty looked about ready to explode. He swore beneath his breath and this time the object of his wrath didn’t have anything to do with pain. “I thought we had an eye on him.”

  Greg arched a brow. “We did. He isn’t a great analyst for nothing. He works for us. He knows our methods. And MSS’s. And RIOT’s. Makes it tricky to outwit and outplay him.”

  “Aha! I guessed Hal was from Langley. I knew he was the bad guy.” She pointed an accusing finger at Ty. “I can’t believe you made me have lunch with him.”

  “Bygones,” he said.

  Treflee’s gaze bounced between the boys. They looked unimpressed with her deductions. “Just what is he up to?”

  “Selling one of our top secret projects to RIOT byte by byte,” Ty said. “That’s all you need to know.”

  Treflee turned to Greg for help. “Oh, come on!”

  Ty shook his head. “Just because he’s been playing nice guy this mission, don’t look at him like he’s a soft touch. He’s a hardened spy like me, Tref. The less you know, the less RIOT can torture out of you.” He sounded exasperated.

  It was worth a try, Treflee thought. Most of the American public didn’t even know RIOT existed. Treflee’d only heard rumors by accident, aided by a bit of spousal spying. She knew only one thing about them really—they were bad, bad, bad dangerous. They’d torture a kitten if it suited their needs. “And my great, new hair accessory?”

  “The key to destroying what Hal’s already sold RIOT and stopping them dead.” Without missing a beat, Ty turned to Greg. “Anything in particular spook him?”

  Greg shrugged as he jumped into the driver’s seat and primed the engine. He patted the seat next to him, indicating Treflee should have a seat. “Could have been when RIOT burgled his condo.”

  Ty swore louder. “Subtle.”

  “Yeah, they were.” Greg shrugged. “Did a decent job of not leaving any trace or evidence behind. But Hal hasn’t worked for Langley for nothing. He noticed he’d had an intruder. And he knows both RIOT and the Chinese. They’re cheap. Why pay for something when they can steal it?”

  Ty squinted into the sun. He looked pale and in pain.
“They get anything?”

  Treflee took pity on him. She rummaged around a cooler on the floor in front of her seat and found a can of cheap beer. “Stiffest stuff we have.” She popped the top and handed it back to him.

  “No,” Greg said. “But word is Hal also got wind of the attempts on Treflee.”

  “Hal takes a girl out to lunch and suddenly someone wants her dead? Nice tip-off, guys.” Ty let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “Terrorists.”

  “Yeah, but Hal’s hot for your wife.” Greg grinned at Treflee. “He’s itching to make that big sale and play hero. He wouldn’t mind having Treflee on his sleeve when he plays billionaire bad boy with the money he’s looking to bring in. Seems he wants his own Bond girl, or should I say, villain’s girl?

  “It appears he’s the one person in this mess who’s convinced Treflee’s not a spy. He’s too cocky to believe he’d be taken in by a spy of our own. Prides himself on knowing Langley’s MO. He is one of our top geopolitical analysts, after all.” Greg did a fair imitation of Hal. “Fortunately, Treflee’s not in our playbook. He thinks he can trust her.”

  “Wait a minute!” Treflee turned back over her shoulder to stare at Ty. “Just who all thinks I’m a spy?”

  “Everyone but Hal. Haven’t you been listening?” Ty took a sip of beer and leaned his head back against the seat. “So Hal thinks RIOT thinks he handed the device off to Tref? That she’s his accomplice?”

  “That’s the assumption we’re working on. He’s itching to ride in and play white knight.” Greg turned the key and the engine roared to life.

  Ty cursed some more, mumbling about everyone giving Treflee more credit than she deserved.

  Greg backed the boat out of the mouth of the cave. “Hal’s too greedy to stay hidden for long. Eventually, he’s going to pop up and get that software to Mrs. Ho. His future financial happiness depends on it.”

  “Mrs. Ho!” Just how many times can they shock the spit out of me? Treflee took a deep breath and leaned her head back against her seat, willing herself to stay calm. “Don’t tell me she’s—”

  “RIOT. Yep,” Greg said.

  “The wedding couples?” Treflee said.

  “Innocent pawns,” Ty said.

  “Oh, boy.” She whipped around in her seat to confront her husband. “And you’re encouraging me to go on another date with Hal the traitor? And take you to the wedding at Sugar Love, right into the heart of the evil RIOT bitch’s lair! She’s going to ruin poor Abi’s wedding.” And take a lot of lives. Treflee paused mid-tirade.

  This wasn’t going to be over until someone stopped Hal and Mrs. Ho. And that someone was going to be her. She was pissed now. And when she was angry, she lost all sense of reason and was both unreasonable and unstoppable. She’d had enough. She was going to end this. Anyway, what more danger could she possibly get into?

  “I bet Hal would come out for a wedding at Sugar Love on double happiness day. Especially if I invited him as my date.” She smiled at Ty. “Sorry, but we’ll have to break our date. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Brilliant!” Greg said. “Hal won’t turn down the opportunity to get the payoff and save the girl. He thinks he’s too smart to be caught.”

  Treflee nodded, feeling a rush of thrill-seeking adrenaline. “You two will be there waiting for him. We’ll be like the Three Musketeers.”

  “Or the Three Stooges. No!” Ty shook his head. “The deal’s off. No date with Hal. I already told you I’d sign the damn divorce papers.”

  She put her arm around the back of her seat and stared at Ty, bracing for a fight. “This has nothing to do with you and the ‘damn divorce papers.’”

  She pointed at him. “You need me.” She turned away from the look in his eyes to Greg, hoping to get him on her side.

  Ty ignored her visual plea to Greg. “It’s too dangerous, especially now that Hal’s spooked.”

  She whipped around to look at him again. “You do this kind of crazy, dangerous stuff all the time.” She made thin, angry eyes back at him. “It’s my turn to do something more dangerous than risking a paper cut.”

  “Since when have you wanted to wade right into danger, Miss Risk Avoidance?” Ty shook his head at her folly. “No way. We know how to handle it. We’re highly trained espionage professionals.” Ty looked like he wanted to toss his beer can at her, or at the very least, shake it up and give her a good spray.

  Greg remained calm and unperturbed by their latest round of marital squabbling. His cell phone played the theme from Get Smart.

  “A text from HQ,” Greg said.

  Naturally.

  He read the text silently before turning the phone around and handing it over his seat for Ty to read. “Emmett says to send her in. Hal’s already accepted her invitation via an untraceable text. He’s shielded his cell phone so we can’t get a location on him.”

  Treflee shot Ty a smug smile, only slightly uncomfortable to know that Emmett had been listening in.

  Greg shifted the boat into gear. They jolted forward in full throttle, the noise of surf and engine drowning out any further objections from her husband.

  * * *

  The doc Greg took Ty to see wasn’t your normal hospital emergency room variety, but a top secret NCS field trauma specialist.

  “The very best,” Greg said. “With all the leading-edge medical breakthroughs at his disposal.”

  The doctor and his staff met them at sea in an unmarked white medical boat with a fully equipped surgery. Two medical corpsmen helped Ty onboard and carted him into the surgery. Another checked out Greg and pronounced him fit for duty. No lingering ill effects from being smashed on the head.

  A few minutes later a corpsman returned with a set of clothes for Treflee. He escorted her to the head to change. She returned to the deck to find Greg making a phone call. He pointed to the phone and mouthed, “Your cousin Carrie.”

  “Yeah, they’ll be fine,” Greg said to Carrie. “They were coming back from a dip in the waterfall when they startled Zulu.

  “Uh-huh, sure. Yeah, they have clothes.” Greg winked at Treflee in her spanking new shorts, top, and canvas deck shoes. “Yep, Ty took one to the back of the leg. I agree. Zu’s a coward to shoot someone in the back. Yeah, good thing he’s a bad shot. Sure, they looked happy.” Greg shrugged as he grinned at Treflee. “No, just a flesh wound. Yeah, yeah, you’re right, a flesh wound’s nothing.”

  Treflee rolled her eyes. Carrie would agree with the boys.

  “Take the van and meet us back at the ranch. We’ll catch a puddle-jumper back to Kahalui and rent something there. Sorry we’re not around to pack up for you. Yeah, you, too. Glad you’re not disappointed in your stay. Yeah, crime everywhere. What can you do? Drive safely. That’s a dangerous stretch of road.” He signed off, laughing.

  Treflee plunked down across from him, the wind blowing in her face.

  Greg leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “Ty’s going to be fine.”

  She nodded and looked him in the eye. “Fill me in on the mission. How are we going to stop Hal?”

  * * *

  An hour later, the doctor pronounced Ty fit for duty. Two hours later, they arrived in Kahalui and stopped at McDonald’s for a fried Spam breakfast.

  Treflee wrinkled her nose at it. “I hate Hawaiian food.”

  Ty’s appetite seemed undimmed by his recent trauma. He ate his Spam with relish. “Shut up and eat your rice.”

  “Whatever the doc did to you certainly restored your sunny nature,” she shot back. “I suppose he used some experimental new fast-acting healing agent? Cloned skin? Synthetic blood? You’re not going to turn into a monster now, are you?”

  He lifted a brow. “You mean any more than I already am?”

  Greg shook his head at the two of them. “Play nice, kiddies, and eat up. We have work to do. We have just one day to turn Treflee into one of us, a highly trained espionage professional.”

  Ty frowned at Greg and turned to study Treflee. “Look at
her! Bruises around her neck, scratches all over, bags under her eyes.” He looked away suddenly and shook his head. “She’s not going to entice Hal looking like that.”

  Although accurate, Ty’s insult stung. Treflee lifted her chin. “Thanks so much for your vote of confidence. You’re no prize right now yourself, limping boy.”

  Ty ignored her. “We don’t have time to fly Malene in from the mainland.”

  Greg nodded his agreement.

  “Malene?” Treflee cut in. “Who’s she?”

  “The best cover life artist NCS has,” Ty said. “We’ll have to go with our local girl. Kiki isn’t going to be happy. She’s got her work cut out for her making Tref pretty.”

  “Hey!” she said. “Slow down here. Cover life artist?”

  Ty sighed and shook his head in that patronizing way he had when he was trying to annoy her. He lowered his voice. “You don’t think we pick out our disguises and wardrobes ourselves, do you? Do our own styling, set up our own cover homes? We have stylists and designers for that.”

  “Like in the movies?” She was thinking Ty was so dead for living this glamorous life behind her back.

  “Yeah, and they’re damn good at what they do,” Ty said.

  She cocked a brow. “Malene’s responsible for the goatee and dyed hair?”

  “Yeah,” Ty said.

  Malene knows her stuff.

  “I’ll give Kiki a buzz.” Greg aimed his phone at Treflee. “She’ll need a snapshot to work with and plenty of time to shop.”

  Before Treflee could protest, Greg had snapped her photo and texted it off to the mysterious Kiki.

  * * *

  A four-foot-tall carved wooden tiki stood on the veranda of Big Auau to the right of the front door. Even though the doc had done a great job of patching him up, Ty favored the leg as he moved gingerly around the tiki, giving it wide berth.

  “This is new.” Tref paused to inspect it.

  Great, my wife chooses now to become observant.

  “What a cute little potbellied guy!” She reached out to touch it.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Ty said, doing his best to sound ominous.