Secret Agent Boyfriend

by Addison Fox

  He and the team had dismantled the place, piece by piece, securing reams of evidence that had put several criminals behind bars for life and had chipped away at a huge portion of the crime ring’s cash flow.

  After Brad’s cursory glance into Mark’s files, they’d spent the afternoon digging more deeply through whatever they could get their hands on that Mark might have touched. The time and forced patience had nearly killed him, but Derek knew they had one shot at this.

  One shot to get Landry and bring her home.

  Whatever game Mark was playing had come to its end. And there in some obscure piece of paperwork, Derek’s patience had been rewarded. As soon as Brad snagged the building file, Derek had made the connection.

  It had been Mark’s one slipup, but it had been enough for them to put the pieces together. The orders on the building had been signed off on by Mark Goodnight. And when they dug into the paperwork behind the authorization, Derek had found what he needed.

  His earpiece buzzed, Leo’s voice strong and clear. “Eyes on him. Snipers got a view through the windows. Do not engage.”

  “They see anyone else?”

  “Negative.” Leo’s voice snapped through the line. “Hold your position, Agent Winchester.”

  Derek had been through it already and knew the protocols. Mark was armed and if they tipped him off, there was no telling what he’d do.

  Derek knew he needed to wait for the signal.

  But all he could imagine was Landry inside, bound up or—worse—hurt and in need of help. In need of him.

  So he held his post, standing sentinel against the battered old door on the back side of the building. He kept calm, tracing the building floor plan over and over in his mind. And he thought about all the ways he was going to tell her he loved her.

  How he’d hold her close and never let her go. How he was going to ask her to marry him at the first possible opportunity.

  He believed they’d see each other again, willing it with everything he was.

  Whether it was the heightened direction of his thoughts or the sharp awareness of seeing this through to completion, he didn’t know, but he was already on the move when the door behind him opened.

  His body flat against the wall, Derek forced Mark to walk through the door to get a good look at him. Those last few steps were necessary and compelled Mark to expose himself in the open. Despite orders and the snipers in easy range, Derek made his move.

  He had Mark slammed against the doorframe, wrestling him against the wall. “Where is she? You bastard! I trusted you!”

  The words tore from his lips in a hard cry, words he was barely aware of even speaking. Betrayal layered over anger until all he could see—all he could feel—was the steady slam of Mark’s head against the outer wall of the building.

  Moments flashed in a blur as screams echoed down the sidewalk, his backup on him in seconds, pulling him off Mark.

  And then Landry was through the door and in his arms, saying his name over and over.

  “You’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. Shhh.” Her arms were tight around his shoulders, her lips against his ear. “I’m fine.”

  Derek clung to her, amazed she was back in his arms. He’d hoped—believed—she would be, but the reality was so much better.

  “Derek.” His lips moved over her hair and she said his name again before pressing on his shoulders. “Come here. Come with me.”

  Time blurred in a series of impressions and he fought to stay with her as she reached for his hand. “Come on. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Landry pulled him back through the doorway, into the dark, dank space of the building. He nearly pulled her back out, unwilling to have her spend even another minute there, when he saw her.

  Rena.

  Her tall, gangly body was draped in a T-shirt and jeans, her feet bare.

  “We found her, Derek.” Landry’s voice was quiet as she pulled him closer to the young girl. “She’s safe.”

  Derek fell into a crouch before the girl, unwilling to startle her after all she’d been through.

  Landry moved to stand next to Rena, her arm draping those slim shoulders. “He’s the one I was telling you about. He wouldn’t rest until they found you.”

  Rena glanced up at Landry, trust swimming in her quiet eyes. And then she moved, all arms and legs, and threw herself into Derek’s arms. And as he looked over Rena’s head, into the eyes of the woman he loved, Derek knew he’d found his partner. The woman who understood him. Who accepted him for who he was and who he wanted to be.

  And for her, he’d do anything. She was his life. His love.

  His forever.

  Epilogue

  “They caught her.” Landry snuggled deeper into her robe and wondered why that statement didn’t make her feel worse.

  Rachel’s eyes widened from the opposite couch. “Your mother?”

  “Yep. She’s being extradited as we speak, ripped from the arms of her European lover, under investigation for the acts perpetrated against Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, Landry, I’m so sorry.” Rachel moved to sit next to her and laid a soothing hand on Landry’s leg. Her eyebrows did shoot up in clear surprise. “But a lover?”

  Landry wanted to be angry—knew she would have been even a few weeks ago—but she simply didn’t have the time or attention to care about her mother’s poor choices any longer. “Apparently she’s been seeing Raphael for the last year. She was actually with him the night my father was shot so she’s cleared of suspicion there.”

  “I’m still sorry.”

  “I’m not. She needs to own up to her part in what happened to Elizabeth.” Landry thought over the past forty-eight hours. The rescue in the warehouse. Rena’s return to her family. Even Noah’s agreement to take a DNA test.

  All of it was coming to a resolution, and Patsy’s extradition was another necessary chapter closed.

  Rachel offered up another soothing pat. “Then we’ll agree to bury this in the friend vault and only pull it out from time to time if you need to discuss it.”

  Landry pulled Rachel close in a hug. “You’ve got a deal.”

  They drifted to other topics—namely how they’d both gone overboard purchasing baby outfits—when Noah walked into the room. “I wanted us all to be together for this.”

  “For what?” Landry watched as her entire family trooped in, with Derek closing the line, an envelope in his hands. His gaze was somber as he sought her out, subdued from the brighter joy that had marked him since they returned from LA.

  When he came over and took the seat next to her, his hand closing over hers, she squeezed back. She knew that envelope held Noah’s future, and she was glad they would share the moment together.

  “I should probably get going.” Rachel stood but Noah pressed her back to the couch.

  “Please stay. I’d like you to be here.”

  Rachel nodded, her green gaze solemn. “Of course.”

  “Derek? Please.” Noah took the envelope from Derek, his hands steady as he ripped through the thin seal. “I’ve had some time to think about what’s in here. And I’ve come to accept that you all did what you thought was best.”

  “Noah—” Whit halted before adding, “You’re our family. You mean the world to us and you always have. No matter what’s in there, we’re here for you. We’re always here for you.”

  Noah nodded before his gaze landed on Landry. She reveled in the warmth there and the love, always so evident in his gaze. “I know that. And almost losing Landry was a really crappy way to be reminded of how much you all mean to me, too.”

  Derek wrapped an arm around her and she moved closer to that protection and, to the very depth of her soul, knew Noah was right. Family—the ones you were born with and the ones you mad
e—were what made life worth living. And in a matter of months, she and Derek would solidify their feelings by marrying and becoming a family of their own.

  Noah slid the papers out and Landry marveled at how so few pages could change a man’s life. He scanned the top page but it was his words that sent shock waves through the room.

  “I’m Jackson Adair.”

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the next ADAIR AFFAIRS book

  from Elle James in May 2015!

  And if you love Addison Fox,

  be sure to pick up her other stories:

  THE MANHATTAN ENCOUNTER

  THE ROME AFFAIR

  THE LONDON DECEPTION

  THE PARIS ASSIGNMENT

  Available now from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from JOINT ENGAGEMENT by Karen Anders

  http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience

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  Chapter 1

  United States Coast Guard special agent Kinley Cooper stretched as she rose at the annoying sound of her 5:00 a.m. alarm. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and turned off her alarm, dreading this day. She reached for her dark gray jogging bra that was draped across black Lycra cotton shorts on the back of the chair near her bed.

  Yawning, she pushed back the painful memories that clogged her chest and twisted her heart. They were always there, especially the one of that terrible morning. It sat at the back of her mind as she gathered up her dark auburn hair and pulled it into a tight ponytail. She grabbed the shorts, wiggled into them, then donned socks and her running shoes.

  Exactly twelve years ago, her father had been murdered outside their London residence as he was taking her to school before heading to work at the American embassy.

  She took a deep breath. She had been active in the Coast Guard for eight years now, and had been accepted into the Coast Guard Criminal Investigative Service two years ago. The good-ol’-boy system had taken one look at her and assumed she was a pushover, but she’d taken care of that. She’d conducted investigations and had done a fine job.

  She lived in Kroebuck Beach, Virginia, and drove in to the CGIS office that was geographically located in the southeastern corner of the state. The area was known as Hampton Roads to the residents.

  Heading for the back door, she pressed the timer on her sports watch and stepped through the screen door. She stopped dead.

  Fog. Thick, cloying and cold, like it had been that fateful morning. The mist brushed up against her face and she recoiled from it like she would from a cold hand. A shiver racked her.

  Just like that, she was back on that familiar London street, panting hard, running through the fog away from armed men, one in particular, his eyes cold and calculating, obviously the leader. His voice. It chilled her, the flat inflection in Arabic. She would never forget how it sounded.

  Kinley stood in a pocket of fog, but it didn’t seem like a pocket to her. She tried to shake the feeling of being swallowed, erased and eradicated by this enveloping whiteness. It was so white, it hurt her eyes. Staring at it made her feel like she was staring at herself, staring at nothing. Her mind fought hard to get away from the visions and the memories. But the insubstantial wisps mocked her. Each thought she had seemed loud and exposed, just as every movement she made in the silence that wrapped like the fog around her seemed to gather attention. And her father. Oh, God, her father. Maybe the fog was somehow in her, just as she was in it?

  There was no reason to be afraid of fog. Mist was created when warm air hit cold air. It was a weather pattern, and didn’t hide memories, ghosts or the chunk of herself from when she’d lost her father. She’d been so sheltered, protected and her world had been safe and secure. Since then, she’d found out that the world was a hostile and tough place to maneuver, and had developed a thick skin.

  Her next-door neighbor’s dog woofed as he usually did every morning when she ran, but he sounded distant, as if she was hearing his barking underwater.

  Everything looked and sounded unreal. The fog was so thick she could just barely make out the shoreline across North First Street. Whiteness obscured the ocean. It swooped in and skirted around the homes and the trees like a giant eraser.

  Just like the day that those men had robbed her of her father. And the US government had robbed her of justice. They hadn’t been all that forthcoming with details of the investigation. All they would tell her was that they were looking into it and it was terrorists who had murdered him. She’d only been a child then with no pull whatsoever. Even now, they were still vague with the details.

  She made herself move, took off into a slow lope. The sun would be up soon and burn a lot of this off. She wasn’t worried. She knew this beach like the back of her hand. But as she hit the soft sand, her house was swallowed up like a great white whale had just opened his maw and devoured it. She even lost the feeling of being on land. The fog and the sea joined with each other; even the waves lapping against the shore were quiet. And her heart was heavy as she ran, as if the ghost of her father ran with her, trying to catch up from that sixteen-year-old to the woman she was today. As if he was always one step behind her.

  Muffled popping noises suddenly sounded over the water. Kinley slowed down, her breathing harsh in her ears. She attempted to quiet it. Stopping completely, she turned her head and looked out, remaining still and listening intently. Her heart lurched and then started pounding. She couldn’t be sure of what she was hearing. The fog or her mind could be playing tricks on her. Damn these doubts. She wasn’t going to panic. Trying to stay calm and in investigator mode, she waited. The burst of sound came again in rapid succession, but with the fog blanketing everything and the visibility almost nil, Kinley couldn’t see anything but light flashes in the distance.

  Flares? she thought, scanning back and forth. Fireworks?

  Cocooned in the eerie opaque cotton, she strained her eyes trying to detect what it could be. The sounds seemed to be coming from everywhere, leaving her disoriented and unable to quite tell from which direction the noises originated.

  She waited, listening intently and almost holding her breath. She tried to identify those softened explosions.

  She took a step closer, the water lapping at her feet, and peered out into the dense mist. Her stomach was tied up in knots. She’d heard that sound in the fog before…on a London street. Was it her imagination or real automatic gunfire?

  It came again and a chill raced over her skin. Her breathing went shallow. Without concrete proof, she was not going to guess. She never guessed. Not anymore.

  She heard a terrible scraping sound, like metal against sand. Thumping and muted voices.

  The fog cleared suddenly, a patch of it misting across her eyes, and she saw…something whiter than the fog loom out at her, and a bright red splash of color before it was quickly covered and obscured again.

  Her stomach dropped. Everything went dead still, deader than the deadening fog—the sounds, her hands, her heart—and it felt as if every drop of blood had drained from her head.

  Suddenly the muffled sound of a boat’s engine, gunning away fast, surrounded her.

  She turned back the way she’d come and took off at a run, kicking up sand as she pounded back to her house, momentar
ily stumbling around until she got her bearings. After streaking across the street, she slammed into her house, rushed to her nightstand drawer and grabbed her holster, clipping it to the back of her shorts. She stuffed her ID into her sock. Snatching her cell phone off the nightstand, she was on the move again, back to the beach and the small dock where her former boyfriend had left a small motorboat. He’d hoped they would fish together. But that was never going happen as she’d refused to have him move in with her, which had pretty much killed their relationship.

  She jumped into the boat and started the engine, heading to the vicinity where she’d heard that ominous scraping and popping noise. She searched the thick haze, and caught another glimpse of something large, white and red.

  White…oh God, red. Her stomach plummeted to her toes. “No, it can’t be. Much too close to shore.”

  Guiding the light fishing boat over the slightly rocking sea, she moved slowly through the dense fog, her attention caught by the sound of an outboard motor. She looked to her left to make sure she wasn’t going to hit anything.

  With a weird sense of something looming right at the corner of her peripheral vision, Kinley wrenched her gaze back to the front and the now impending white/red monster careening out of the fog. She jerked hard on the throttle and swerved to the left at the last moment. The small boat rocked madly as it grazed the side of the hulking silhouette, making a loud screeching sound. Adrenaline sizzled through her blood, her heart beating hard against her chest wall.

  “My God, what the hell are they doing running without lights?” she murmured to herself.

  She looked back at the ship that had suddenly materialized out of the fog. “Cutter, Point class. Eighty-two footer,” she said absently. They wouldn’t run without lights, not in this kind of fog. Her heart accelerated from alarm. Something was wrong. She felt it in her bones when she looked at the vessel. That ship should be alive with movement, lit up. Then it struck her. There was no thrumming—the engines were silent.