Passion, Vows & Babies: Wedded Lies (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by N Kuhn

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Rochelle Paige Popovic and Elle Christensen. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Passion, Vows & Babies remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Rochelle Paige Popovic and Elle Christensen, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Wedded Lies

  By N Kuhn

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  About the author

  Chapter 1

  Eugene Bevard shook his head as he ran a finger over the gold name plate on his desk. He scoffed, tossing it aside. Two years into a marriage he was forced into for his job, with the lamest fake name ever, and he was going out of his mind. Sure, the woman he quickly married to appease the CIA gods was beautiful and a decent wife. But if he was honest with himself, he barely knew her. He cared for Calista and she had been good to him. They even had a great sex life. The bedroom was the one place where sparks ignited between them.

  But, life in the suburbs of New Jersey was boring. He commuted into New York city each day, to his office and back again. It just wasn’t the life he wanted to lead. He should be the one out there, tracking down and arresting the drug lord he pissed off, not some other lucky agent. Sure, in trying to catch Ricardo Bendez, Gene had caused the death of his brother. Jesus Bendez. Ricardo had been hunting Gene, putting out contracts on his life since. Hiding from danger was not what Eugene was about.

  Clarence Ellard, his CIA handler, commanded that he hide out until the heat was off, until the rumors of contracts on his life, and searches for Agent Grayson Connor had ceased. It had taken almost three months for him to get used to the name Eugene or Gene. Even his back story was dull. Raised by grandparents after his parents died, they were gone, he was alone. His fake job, sitting in an office, and pretending to be a financial consultant wasn’t any better. What he really did, was online research and tracing for the CIA. He still had a job, just not his job.

  Clarence kept assuring Gene that they were close, and he could soon return to a normal life, if that was what he wanted. But Clarence also kept suggesting married life was good for men of a certain age. As if to prove a point, Gene spent massive amounts of his free time at the gym, up keeping the rock-hard body, the one he had achieved through constant training and hard work.

  Certain age? Gene though angrily. It’s not like he was elderly. At thirty-five, sure, he had a decade on other agents. But that ten years brought an experience and patience that those young bucks didn’t have. He ached to be back in the field. Stalking terrorists with a sniper rifle, hand to hand combat with bombers, that was where he needed to be. Working a day job, going home to the suburbs, mowing the lawn on the weekends, cookouts with the neighbors, it was all too Stepford for him.

  Gone were the days of different cities each week, rescue missions, killing bad guys who deserved it and having a purpose in life. When he killed the brother of Columbia’s top drug cartel leader, he was put undercover, basically the CIA’s version of witness protection, and it sucked.

  The intercom on his desk buzzed. Gertrude, the older woman assigned to him, was the only person in this pretend life, other than Clarence, that actually knew who and what he was. “Mr. Ellard is on the phone, Gene,” her soft, grandmotherly voice came through.

  “Thanks, Gertie,” he picked up the phone on his desk. “Clarence, tell me you got good news?” Leaning back in the chair, Gene put his feet up on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. Damn suits, he missed his jeans and shirts, comfortable clothes that allowed him to blend in with any area. He missed being a chameleon.

  “Gene,” Ellard sounded exasperated. Every time he called, it was the same question, same answer. It was their dance ritual. “I guess you could call this good news.” Those words took a moment to register with Gene. He launched forward, planting his feet on the floor.

  “What? Really? I can come back to work?” There was no way to hide the excitement in his voice. Heart racing, his blood roared against his ear drums. Although, for a moment, he was sad. What about Calista? Could he tell her the truth? Would she be able to handle it? Was that even a life she would want to be a part of? Ignoring the questions in his head, he listened to the conversation, tabling the what ifs for later.

  “Now Gene, calm down please. Let me explain. It’s not what you think.” It was like a sucker punch to the gut. The breath rushed from his lungs, and he collapsed back into the chair with such force it rolled backwards a few inches. “We need your help with a case, but it’s not exactly on the books for us. More of a freelance job. It wouldn’t mean you can come out of hiding yet.”

  Gene huffed, squeezing his eyes tight. He counted to ten under his breath and then opened them back up. “Ok, what is it.” At this point, he would take whatever he could get. A little action was better than none.

  “Well, you’ve heard of Artemis?”

  He had. She was thought to be the best assassin in the world right now. Highly sought, though never seen. Any job she took had to be someone referred by a former client, and apparently, she was extremely picky. Two, maybe three jobs a year, but all high profile. This woman was also a ghost. There were no traces, nothing left behind, except a small business card with a golden bow and arrow. Never, had the CIA been up against someone like this, that they could not find one single lead to go on. They didn’t even know for sure she was female. It was a hunch, based on the fact that Artemis was the Greek goddess of hunt. A female. Gene actually admired her, whoever she was. Her marks had ranged from dangerous arms dealers to a dictator that had massacred hundreds of people. Every one of them deserved what they got. But vigilante justice wasn’t justice, just a quick means to an end.

  “Yes, Clarence. Who in this business hasn’t?” It was like the FBI’s most wanted list. The CIA had their own. Mostly suspects that no one else knew about unless you were in the company.

  “I got a top-secret file on my desk today. The CIA had gotten sick of trying to figure out who Artemis was, and decided to use her instead. Since she wasn’t exactly a threat to us, we’ve given her jobs. Even the contact here who gave her targets, payments, whatever, hasn’t seen or spoken to this person. So, we’re still in the dark.”

  Gene rolled his eyes. It was typical of them to exploit someone with skills like that. Until they got caught doing so, then that person would become their most wanted criminal and take all the blame. Whatever kept the United States from taking any responsibility to unethical practices.

  “Of course they did. And?”

  “And, instead of hitting their last mark, an ISIS leader who was planning a large-scale attack, she took out an Army General of ours. Along with her calling card, we found evidence that he was the one supplying this cell with the materials and information they needed to pull it off. Yes, everyone is happy to have found a traitor, but at the same time, they are angry at the disobedient behavior. That’s not protocol. Had we found out, there could have been a trial, showing our country we are protecting them from all enemies, foreign and domestic. That chance gone, we have to explain why a general was assassinated and a terrorist left to run free, and why we sent this person instead of capturing them. Senate and Congress are calling for her head, and there’s an inquiry into the CIA.” Clarence stopped, clearing his
throat.

  To Gene, it all seemed like the right person was taken out, a traitor who deserved to die. Especially a man with high security clearance that had claimed a dedicated life to his country. But as a patriot, he also saw where they were coming from. Constituents want to see their elected officials taking charge and handling things. This certainly was a mess.

  “Gene, I’ll be honest. The powers that be want you to take out Artemis, capture really, but no one would bat an eye if she came back dead instead of alive. It would save from her getting on the stand and divulging other missions she had been sent on, if you catch my drift.”

  “If no one knows who she is, how is that going to happen?” He held back the laugh that he felt coming on. His first chance to get back in the field and they want to give him an impossible mission?

  “They haven’t mentioned their displeasure to her. She was paid, everything seems fine, at least to her. Their plan is basically to set up another contract. But you will know the times and places this person will be, and can arrange to intercept.”

  “Why haven’t they done this before? Set up a contract and had them followed, capture her?”

  “We did once, and our agent was left hog tied to a light pole in the middle of Paris. It was quite embarrassing. They figured she would make a better asset than enemy, that’s how it goes. You know how it is with us spooks. When you’re useful, you get jobs. When you’re not, you no longer exist.” Clarence lowered his voice. “I don’t like this. I’ve been given a command. I’m to give you this job. But to be honest, it feels like a suicide mission to me. You can decline. Technically, you’re not an employee, and it’s not a required job. Off the books, they can’t force you. That would mean paperwork, and they want this hush hush. I’m just afraid if cornered, she will attack. We both know that means loss of life to those who are in the line of fire. Either from her or for failure.”

  Gene thought on it for a moment. No one had been able to get close to Artemis. And Clarence was right. Anyone who failed, seemed to disappear. At this point, he’d rather risk his life and use this as leverage to get back into field work, than let the opportunity pass him by. “I’ll do it, send me the info.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t have to. We both know this is something they don’t expect you to come back from.”

  “I will succeed, then I want to go back to my old life.” The line was silent for a moment.

  “Ok, I’ll get that approved and send the file. They have a team already picked, so be careful. This means someone will have instructions to take you out if things go bad. And Gene, good luck.”

  Clarence hung up, and Gene turned to look out the window at the New York City skyline. Things were finally looking up. He was gonna get his life back, things would be normal again. He needed the action like he needed air.

  “Gertie,” he buzzed his secretary. “We have classifieds coming in. Please bring them to me as soon as they get here.” Then he began making a list of items he would need. Failure was not an option.

  Chapter 2

  Gene paced his hotel room. The target was an African dictator who was visiting Manhattan. The man was responsible for the genocide of thousands of his people, and turning young children into gun toting killers. It was despicable, but, he should be on trial, not murdered. This assassin was taking justice into her own hands, and it wasn’t right. He checked the ammo on his gun, and tightened the scarf on his neck. His tweed jacket and tortoise shell glasses made him look like a scholar out and about in New York City. A tourist, his costume touched up with a camera and map.

  Chike Balewa loved to remind his people that his name meant ‘Power of God’ and that he was acting upon the instructions of a higher power, to cleanse their country. He was here to meet with UN leaders to discuss religious rights and war crimes. The intel on where he would stay had been tight lipped. But the CIA knew. They had been the agency to arrange security, thus, able to set up Artemis, for the murder. Their hopes were to catch her.

  Gene was to go sightseeing. Since Chike was staying in the Grand Central Hilton, about two blocks from the UN Headquarters, he would check out sights like Ralph Bunche Park, and the UN itself. He needed to stay inconspicuous and blend in, but at the same time, keep an eye on Chike. His room would be situated one floor below, directly under the presidential suite.

  He had a team with him. One man would pose as the hotel room’s butler, a woman as housekeeping, and another woman at the front desk. There was also a tech team, ran by Marvin in the room next to his. He was a CIA nerd, but good at what he did. The gadgets this guy had made up for his incessant need to talk about his girlfriend Kelly.

  Alexander “Justice” Shaw, was their mission leader. He was a legend as an interrogator for the company. Now he was a team leader, mostly office work. Marvin also liked to talk about his wife about to pop out their second child.

  Gene scoffed. With a marriage that was nothing more than an inconvenient cover, he wasn’t fully thrilled at the idea of kids, and thankfully, his wife never brought it up. He had told her that there was a last-minute business trip for a convention in Chicago, and he would be gone all weekend. She had been okay with that, seeing as how her friends asked her to a girls’ weekend in Vegas. It worked out perfectly for him. He could be in Manhattan and she would never know.

  It was early Friday morning, so commuters were still rushing off to their offices, while tourists began crowded the streets to sightsee. Gene sat on a bench in Tudor City Greens, browsing his map as the masses rushed by. In reality, he had an eye on the hotel down the block, waiting on Chike to arrive. A procession of police escorts and bulletproof town cars pulled up, and he hadn’t even needed to wait long. Holding the map up to cover his face, he whispered.

  “Black Mamba has arrived.” He used the code name assigned to Chike, letting his team know the mark arrived. They would all get into place. Knowing security would check the room for bugs before he went in, they couldn’t get sound into the suite. But having an in-room butler on hand helped. Everyone who lived that life ignored the help. They were invisible but soaked up tons of information. Most people discussed important business, forgetting the unvetted ears lurking around. They had a partial itinerary for Balewa. There was no way of telling if he would be hit in public, or the privacy of his rooms. But Artemis had a track record for quick, quiet, and very private. So, the majority of their surveillance was there.

  The security team for the dictator exited first. After fifteen minutes, they returned, escorting him into the hotel—very professional. Surrounding him, they moved as one.

  Gene stood, looking around. Nothing appeared out of place, but then again, an expert such as Artemis, like Gene, would know better than to stand out. As he headed towards the hotel, tucking his map into a coat pocket, he saw a flash, and his heart stopped. A woman with long brown hair was swallowed by the crowd. It caused him to pause momentarily. She looked just like his wife, Calista. Gene shook it off. It couldn’t be Calista. She was out of town with friends.

  He ambled into the hotel, taking the elevator up to his room. “Okay team, let’s keep our focus. Mamba is in the building, and we don’t know when Artemis will strike,” he said into the ear piece he wore. It connected him to the whole team. Each member except Jarrod Cranston, the butler, checked in, one by one, already in position. Gene shed his jacket and scarf, sitting down at the desk.

  He opened a laptop, and the screen woke to the video feed—the hallway outside of Chike’s room, the living room of the suite. Chike’s team swept the room for bugs and Gene breathed a sigh of relief when they didn’t find the unsophisticated cam that was little more than something Calista would have bought to spy on a nanny if they’d had kids. It didn’t emit any signal.

  Gene could see security men placed at each side of the doorway. Chike wasn’t taking any chances. Hours passed, and nothing happened. Finally, around six, the team and Chike left.

  Jarrod finally checked in. “Jeeves to Phantom,” Gene heard.

&
nbsp; His codename in the SEAL’s and CIA, had been Phantom. Since he worked mostly alone or only with only one other person, that was what he’d been called. He been a ghost, able to get in and out of a room or building without being seen, leaving no trace of being there.

  “Phantom, go,” he responded.

  “Black Mamba is out to dinner, and a show. Won’t return until midnight. I’m apparently off shift until morning, so we’re blind in the room until then.”

  “Good job. I’ve got it from here. Phantom out.”

  Marvin had provided him with some gadgets earlier in the day in hopes that the team would only scan the room once, not every time they returned. One was a small, motion activated camera. It would dump data to them once an hour, after recording, so it didn’t emit a constant signal. It was thin and cable like, and would be inserted in through the vent of the master bedroom. The other was a bug to be attached to the back of a television. It looked like a clear sticker, something the manufacturer would have placed on it. This one, it didn’t matter if they scanned the room for bugs again. They could turn off on their end, and it sent a constant live stream of sound.

  Gene changed out of his jeans and polo, pulling on black pants, and a long sleeve black shirt. He looked casual, yet would be unseen in the darkened room. He shoved his .40 caliber Smith and Wesson Beretta into the waist of his jeans, the cold metal pressing against his back. He slipped his tortoise shell glasses back on. Marvin had a small button in the inner part of one temple earpieces. The lenses, became night vision. Gene shoved gloves in his pocket with the bug, and left his room.

  “Phantom heading to Mamba’s nest. Keep an eye out.”

  “Affirmative,” Belle responded. She was the only female agent on the team. During and earlier chat, Marvin explained she got her job by being beautiful, by always having her nose buried in books. She was great at surveillance, and smart as a whip. It was only her second time in the field though. That made Gene nervous. Justice had assured her, that she was great at analyzing the camera feeds and would ensure he got advance notice to exit the room if anything happened.