Luckily, she slept the entire flight, making it impossible to “discuss” their sweaty night between the sheets. She was between a rock and rock—Lars, dangerous to her heart, versus Miro, dangerous to her life.
Lars stepped into the role of husband exactly as she would have expected from the take-charge commando. In the limousine, compliments of his publishing company, he fell easily into the paternalistic role of lecturing. He had a list of “do nots” and, judging by the amused glint in his eyes, he was enjoying the power he wielded over her. For one minute, she thought he had been hurt when she insisted that she only wanted one night. If he was upset, he recovered quickly with his glib insult. “I don’t have to usually work that hard.”
She kicked herself at the thought that she was some kind of fool who had surrendered to him. And now, as she had known all along, she was the only one with mile-high regrets. For him, she was just another pleasurable night with one of many interchangeable women.
The only redeeming moment of this clusterfuck charade was the fine champagne waiting in the limousine. God, she had to get away from the Jenkins brothers. Now she was swearing like the marines.
For a few minutes, the French bubbly made her feel as if she were back in her old life. Under the influence of the bubbles whizzing like shooting stars, whirling and spiraling upwards, she had convinced herself that her love of the 1903s Art Deco hotel that exuded charm and elegance was enough to make her forget that she and Jax had stayed in NYC during their first weekend away from Boston. They had been so in love… Correction. She had been so in love. The possibility that Jax had ever loved her was as likely as her wearing pantsuits that made her look like a real estate agent trying too hard.
She didn’t flinch when Lars announced the Carlyle as their destination. If anyone had foretold that her perfect life would blow up as it had, she would’ve run naked and screaming into Central Park. Instead of Jax as her husband, she had irresistible, unavailable Lars as a pseudo husband protecting her from yet another drug cartel. This time, this cartel didn’t want her research; they wanted her. Dead. How did a woman “reframe” those lemons into lemonade?
Since her non-wedding and kidnapping, she had shut everything out, shut everything down. No pain in well-constructed walls, but no real joy either. And for the first time in months, she had let herself feel with Lars. She hadn’t been sure if she would ever be able to feel joy, laughter, tenderness, but in his arms, she had felt everything, and it scared the freaking daylights out of her. She didn’t want to feel. Feeling in her life equaled pain and betrayal.
She had spent the last months staying busy, not giving herself any time to think or to feel. At this point, she had no clue how to order and organize all these messy emotions engulfing her. And God, how they all came flooding back now—fear, hurt, and loneliness that she’d stuffed out of sight for so long.
Lars smiled at her, using the Jenkins full-wattage charm as he stopped in the middle of the lobby. “Honey, I’ll sign us in. Why don’t you sit. It was a long flight.”
Lars was adamant that she play his wife in public places where there were cameras or the possibility of being observed. Miro wouldn’t be looking for a couple. Her changed name was on the flight manifest and matched her husband RJ Phillips’s name, neither of whom had any association with the Deans or her life. Lars had always used his pen name during his stays in New York, keeping his identity a secret. Only his agent and publisher knew his real name. As he was still active military, he didn’t want to have any trouble with his team, or with fans, or the enemy being able to find him.
“Of course, honey bear.” Danni leaned, pressing her breast against his arm, and batted her eyes under her thick black glasses despite the discomfort to her forehead. She might not have much to be happy about right now, but irritating Lars always helped lift her spirits.
It was obvious Lars knew nothing about colors by his selection of her eyeglass frames. Redheads shouldn’t wear black frames but browns, creams, and even pale blues. God, could he have made her look any worse? Weren’t black eyes, bruises, and a cast enough? She needed to take some selfies for Sophie to make them both laugh. Of course, she didn’t believe for a second that selfies or amusement fell on his list of how she should behave. As if she needed to be told how to handle herself in this situation.
She was to limit her exposure to people and the hidden security cameras. She needed to be forgettable and unrecognizable. Lars had worried that her usual style of dressing would make her conspicuous. No woman would check into the Carlyle in this outfit. It wasn’t about budget; it was all about pulling together your own style. If she had a scarf, sunglasses, and an oversized designer purse, she would be forgettable. Instead, she was conspicuous for how badly she was dressed in the five-star luxury hotel.
He had no clue that he and Ryder were both conspicuous for their enormous size and forceful presence. Lars, in a tailored power suit, couldn’t be ignored. Every woman within a mile radius would remember him. Their ovaries would be shouting to do the “mating dance.” And she hated that her ovaries were no different than all the other women’s.
And, as if Lars weren’t enough to catch everyone’s attention, Ryder, the size of Hagrid from Harry Potter, strode in front of them with his head looking like it was on a swivel, searching the opulent but empty lobby. Between Ryder and Lars, their alpha male power overshadowed the beautiful and restful space.
Danni proceeded as instructed and sat on the Louis XVIII orange couch, facing away from the counter and the camera. She sat upright staring at the revolving doors. Ryder stood next to her, blocking any view from the receptionist, ready to step in front of her. No one had entered since their arrival.
A frisson of anxiety darted along her skin at Ryder’s intense focus on the doors as if Miro might enter at any second with armed men and toss her into a van like… Her heart dropped to her feet when the door moved, and a man entered the lobby. His styled blond hair was brushed away from his angular face, and the tailored cut of his worsted wool suit spoke of money and prestige. She sighed inwardly. Not Miro or one of his thugs.
“Douglas?” Oh, my God. Had she said his name out loud?
Douglas Blackney, Jax’s business partner, strode up to her, his dark eyes searching her face, probably trying to figure out which of the many women in New York whom he’d slept with she was. Danni knew womanizer Douglas had tried to convince Jax not to marry her. She prayed that Jax wouldn’t come through the door. God couldn’t be this cruel to make her face Jax right now.
Ryder stepped in front of her to stop Douglas. Danni stood and touched Ryder on his steely arm. “I know him. He’s a friend.”
Doug and Jax often met at Bemelmans’s Bar in the Carlyle after they closed a big deal. She loved the bar and had planned to reclaim the place as her own once she could walk without limping and had some decent clothes to make her return memorable.
Ryder stood rigid next to her, tension radiating, prepared to intervene.
Douglas wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t called out his darn name. But, anticipating Miro, she had been shocked to see Douglas. Damn it. Douglas would have walked right past her. She was calling herself an idiot in every variation she could think of.
“My God, it is you. I recognized your voice, but…”
For the slick, sophisticated Douglas to stumble over his words in any other circumstance would have been highly amusing.
“I’ve never seen you wear glasses.” God, no wonder he was so successful in brokering deals. This man was the master of understatement. His face and tone were impassive as if nothing had transpired since, as best man, he had to inform her that Jax had fled Boston with a nineteen-year-old model. He ignored the obvious—that she looked like hell, bruised with two black eyes, in a cast, and with short red hair.
“Jax broke it off with Liza after he saw the photos of you with Alex Hardy at last week’s concert. He mentioned he wants to get back together. He realizes what a total dumbass he was, freaking
out and running. But you’ve changed your number. You should call him.”
What could she possibly say as every emotion known to womankind was crowding to fill every space of her being? Could rage and insanity fit into one feeling?
“You’ve always been a good friend to Jax.” Danni didn’t add “and as big of an arrogant prick.” Of course, Jax only wanted her back because she was with a famous star.
In the first month after the non-wedding, she had fantasized about this moment…when Jax would realize what a fricking butthole mistake he had made. She didn’t feel any satisfaction that Jax had broken up with his teenage love. She expected to be exhilarated. She felt nothing but an overwhelming sadness for both her and Jax and all the lost dreams.
“He still loves you and wants you back as his wife. You have to give him a second chance.”
“Honey, you do know that having two husbands is against the law. Did you forget to tell me that you had a husband when you married me?” Lars pulled her against his side, wrapping his arm around her waist. She hadn’t been paying attention and missed Lars’s approach. She knew better than to lose awareness of her surroundings.
The day was growing from a clusterfuck to a goat fuck. The Jenkins’ military quip seemed to fit this next “how bad can it get?” quip. Worse and worser.
Danni smiled up into Lars’s intense, questioning face. His eyes were the color of turbulent Northwest waters, the muscles in his cheek ticking. “Darling, imagine my surprise when I ran into an old acquaintance. But you shouldn’t make jokes. I only have one husband that I love, and that’s you, honey cakes.”
She liked the way Lars flinched at “honey cakes.” She purposefully did it to avoid giving Lars’s name. Despite her shock at first seeing Douglas, she was back on game.
“You’re married?” Douglas’s voice pitched high and loud. “How come no one knows about it?”
Anyone meaning anyone with money or lineage.
“I’m sure anyone who is important to us knows.” Lars shrugged.
Douglas dumbstruck was almost worth the fake marriage. And maybe she did feel a bit of satisfaction that Douglas would report back to Jax that she was married and married to a man in an expensive suit who radiated pure confidence that he could handle anything and anyone, including a jackass like Douglas. That would make up for her own current appearance.
“Let’s get to our room; I can’t wait much longer,” Lars whispered in her ear but loud enough for Douglas to hear.
“Douglas, it’s great to see you. Please give my best to Jax.”
Lars placed his hand on Danni’s back, his big hand spread wide, radiating heat.
The always self-possessed Douglas stared impolitely, as her mother would have pointed out, while Danni and Lars waited for the elevator door to close. Danni gave a little wave before Lars pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard, his mouth possessively moving over hers. Desperation and hunger. Danni knew the demanding kiss was to keep their cover story, but she couldn’t stop herself from responding, wanting to believe for a few seconds the blistering kiss was real.
Chapter Eighteen
With Ryder leading the way, Lars took the flank as they escorted Danni down the quiet hallway to their suite. Despite the very private and exclusive setting, Lars and Ryder followed protocol for entering the space.
Was it overly cautious for the Carlyle Hotel? Maybe. But getting too comfortable could lead to mistakes. Lars needed no reminder that Miro was looking for Danni, but surprisingly, Danni did. She had just blown her cover.
Lars opened the heavy black door to the premier suite, then stepped back to allow Ryder to sweep the space. The suite was the size of an apartment with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a full kitchen. Danni and Lars stood in stiff silence at the entrance, staring at the panoramic view of the city’s skyline.
“Were you ever planning to tell me about your husband?” He had sworn that he would say nothing, not allowing her any glimpse of his pain. Overhearing the pretentious asswipe say that Jax still wanted Danni back was as sharp and sudden as a KA-BAR stab.
Danni glared at him. Her lips were swollen from his demanding kiss. He would have to apologize for trying to lick her tonsils. He could lie to himself that the kiss was all about keeping up their cover, but a good operator continually makes self-checks…honest assessments on performance.
The kiss was more than cover. It was about raw need. And anger.
Grinning widely, Ryder approached. “All clear, boss.”
Nick’s marine buddies were amused to call Nick’s younger brother “boss” since they saw him still as a kid. Ignoring gibes was always the best choice—a lesson well-learned from having four brothers. Despite the age difference, Lars had street creds with the men as a Hoorah marine. He could take basic shit from these guys knowing they had his back and would die protecting him and Danni.
“Can you give us a minute?” Lars raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes at Ryder, gesturing toward the door.
Ryder smirked. The big fella might have been facing forward in the elevator, but it didn’t take a genius to know what was happening behind him.
Ignoring the men, Danni limped into the French-styled, elegant living room. She hadn’t been limping when they entered the hotel. And why hadn’t he noticed that she was uncomfortable? Because he was too busy being a class A male asshole who was pissed off and needed to prove that their night together was real. Except she omitted one glaring detail when Lars was inside her giving her multiple orgasms—she had a husband waiting in the wings.
No wonder she didn’t want to come to New York. God, he hated the games women played. He thought he’d never make the Carmen mistake again. It was evident when it came to Danni, he had reverted to kindergarten level. He was just another dumbass idiot being led by his dick.
“When did your ankle start bothering you?” He tried to normalize his tone to hide the boiling rage and hurt.
They had ditched the cane so that Danni wouldn’t stand out.
“The long flight caused some swelling. No big deal; I’m fine.” She kept her back to him, walking toward the bank of windows, and pulled her wig off, her golden hair cascading down her back. She threw her glasses and wig on the gray couch. The room was all muted colors that would have felt restful if his heart weren’t pounding against his chest as if he had climbed to the top of the Empire State Building.
“You should have told me that you were married…” Before we made passionate, crazy love. “Before I built your cover around being my wife.”
For him, last night had been more than grinding hot sex. He was well versed in mutual physical release. Their night together was more than just physical. They shared what felt like something real. The joke was on him. His brain returned to the “Carmen circuit” as he tagged it, looping into an endless circle of betrayal, hurt, and self-loathing as he repeatedly asked himself, “How could I be so stupid…again?”
“Well, maybe if you had consulted me, I might have told you.” She stood staring out the window, her silhouette lit by the bright sun, giving her an otherworldly glow.
“What bullshit. Your life is at risk, and you’re withholding vital information that could jeopardize your safety. You could jeopardize all of our lives. This isn’t some fucking game you’re playing… Use Lars, my bodyguard, to make my husband jealous…”
She pivoted and marched toward him. It would have been more effective if she didn’t drag her right ankle.
She stood within inches of him, close enough that he could get a whiff of her lemony scent without touching her. Her fiery eyes, combined with her bruised, mottled face, created an almost scary appearance.
“I’m so tired of you talking to me like I’m an idiot. I know exactly what’s at stake. I haven’t forgotten for one lousy minute since this all began what it was like to be kidnapped. Those 14K creeps were only after my research. I totally understand what Miro wants… Me.”
He had to suppress his urge to touch her. She had suffered und
er the Chinese gang and was rightfully frightened despite her bravado.
He had to remain firm with her. She had a husband. She played him. He was her bodyguard. His only mission was to protect her.
“Is this Jax going to show up in a fighting rage, demanding you return to him now that he knows where you’re staying? It kind of blows the whole strategy of disappearing.”
She ran her hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I was shocked to see Douglas…and I didn’t think.”
“We’ll need to change hotels. Miro most likely knows about Jax.” And that was what really burned. Miro probably knew more about Danni’s husband than he did. Hell, until ten minutes ago, he didn’t know she had a husband. As her protector, he was looking at every possible scenario of how Miro could get to her but didn’t know that he was missing information about a giant chunk of her life.
He flashed through how quickly he could arrange her detail and get away from her. Nick’s men were totally capable of protecting her. He’d meet with his publisher and editor, then leave. She’d remain in New York. He’d make sure he had reduced any threat, established or new, that were raised by this latest twist, and then he’d disappear. He was through as her personal protector.
Self-disgust had him by the throat. He had fallen again for a woman who had no sense of honesty. He had admired Danni for her loyalty to her friends.
“And FYI, I don’t have sex with married women. I know you think I’ll fuck anyone, but you bloody hell should have told me that you were married. I would’ve walked away. I sure as hell wouldn’t have brought you to New York.” The trip was more than just the logical choice for safety. He’d wanted to share his writer’s life with her. He had never shared this part of himself with anyone.
Her eyes flashed with fire. “If I ever get married, I’ll try real hard to let you know, so we don’t fuck again.”
He moved closer to get in her face, wanting to shake her and kiss her and return to a time when he thought she was good for him. God, his hands were shaking. He allowed this woman to make him do what he swore he’d never do—trust her with his feelings.
Mission: Impossible to Protect (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 6) Page 12