“Nothing,” I say, shrugging the nagging feeling in the pit of my gut.
Something is going on with her, but what?
Chapter Eight
Harrison
Luna didn’t want to become my pretty woman, but Hazel used her like a doll. Friday morning, they went for a run. Later, she joined the yoga studio where Luna teaches, and by the end of the day, they were at my house with a professional shopper who helped them pick a brand-new wardrobe for her cover—which I had to buy.
The service was two thousand dollars too expensive. Plus, the cost of all the clothing. I wanted to protest, but Scott reminded me of Hazel’s state of mind. One of the ways she copes with her depression is by organizing. Luna hasn’t complained about Hazel’s micromanaging personality.
Yet.
“What’s the event?”
“An engagement party,” Scott checks his phone. “Demetri something. His uncle’s account is one of the biggest we handle.”
“And he is…”
“He is dating Gia’s cousin.” Hazel finally walks out of the bedroom where Luna is staying. “That reminds me, the story has changed.”
“What story?”
“How we met.” Luna comes out of the room wearing a short, lace burgundy dress. Her dark hair covers her bare shoulders.
“Hazel and I are old college friends. No one can verify it since she went to Duke. I moved to California after graduation. I quit my high-paying job in LA. She’s letting me stay with her while I figure out what I want to do in New York.”
“Why did you quit?” I fire up.
She lowers her face, slumping her shoulders. “I caught my fiancé cheating with his assistant.” She pauses, biting her lip. “We worked for the same company.”
I feel sucker-punched, reaching for her hand I kiss it. “I’m sorry.”
Luna and Hazel start laughing and high five each other. When and how did they become best friends? I frown watching them.
“You are brilliant,” Luna says, hugging Hazel. “We should hire you at the Bureau.”
“I can’t take credit for your acting skills.” She pretends to pat dry under her eyes. “You almost made me cry.”
“Why are we switching the story?”
“The elusive Harrison Everhart suddenly has a girlfriend because…” Hazel pauses, crossing her arms as she waits for my response.
“Because…” I frown, lower my gaze, and rub the back of my neck. Think fast, think fast. “I like her.”
“That’s a stupid reason to have a serious relationship,” Scott points out, arching his eyebrow.
“We met during one of my trips, it was love at first sight.”
“Where was the trip?” Hazel throws out the questions. “If it’s so serious, why is she living with me and not you? How long have you known her?”
“I have to think about it.”
“Your story has to be simple and credible,” Hazel explains. “The less you have to explain, the better. Tonight, you flirt with her, get to know her, and the chase begins. You two become inseparable, and no one will question why you have a girlfriend.”
As I’m about to ask about the cover they came up with, Grant Beesley makes an appearance. Hazel smiles at her grandfather, giving him a big hug. His eyes go from Scott to me and then back to Hazel.
“If you plan on staying out all night, send me a message, sweetheart.” He kisses her cheek.
Then, his gaze goes to Scott. “I trust you’ll keep her safe, Scott.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Harrison, please be a gentleman with our guest. She’s a close friend of my girl and has had a rough couple of months.”
I tilt my head, arching an eyebrow. He believes the story?
He believes it, I repeat inside my head, smiling.
Reaching out for Luna, I touch her hand lightly and smile at her. Another surge of energy hits me, and I’m starting to enjoy the jolt. In fact, I want more.
“Don’t worry, sir,” I respond. “She’s in good hands. If you’ll excuse us, we have reservations at eight, and then we’re going to a party.”
“I’m starving, and the food is…too small?” Luna stares at her entrée. A piece of salmon the size of a credit card. The side of mashed potatoes isn’t much bigger either.
The waitress sets my filet mignon, which is also a small portion, in front of me. This place is known as a boutique restaurant. They serve sophisticated, unique plates. The menu changes daily and the portions are enough to satisfy the patron’s palette, not their appetite. At least, that’s what Hazel explained during the drive.
“Next time, I’ll choose the place,” Scott, who is a pretty patient man and never complains, offers. “This is a joke. I’m going to starve all night. You’ll starve.”
“Why here?” Luna looks around, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “If neither one of you like it.”
There’s not much to see. The restaurant is inside an abandoned bodega. The high ceiling holds multiple mason jar pendant lights. The tables are metal and wood. It has an industrial-modern atmosphere. However, there’s a crowd outside waiting for a table. They’re booked until the end of the year, and their takeout-delivery service is an hour and thirty minutes behind. We heard a customer complain when he came to pick up his food.
“Visibility,” Hazel responds. “Part of the story.”
“Yeah, what’s the cover?” I try to keep my voice down too.
“That’s all. You get to know her, sweep her off her feet in front of your audience.” She shrugs. “It can’t get simpler than showing them what’s happening in real time.”
“But it’s not real,” Luna remarks.
“They don’t have to know that,” Hazel chides with a sweet smile. “It’s about perception.”
She kisses Scott really close to his lips. Then she turns to look around. Everyone is watching her next move. “See, they’re waiting to find out if we are a couple, or if that’s just a friendly kiss. I’ll keep them guessing until they see either one of us dating.”
“I feel like I’m a box of chocolates and you’re selling me to these people.” Luna sets her forearms on the table, looking at Hazel, intrigued. “How does that work in this case?”
“I’m displaying you two at the trendiest places. People notice.” Hazel scans the area.
“You’d think that in a city with millions of people, no one would notice who you are, but some people aren’t invisible,” Hazel says as she tastes her salmon. “Everyone knows the Everhart brothers. It’s like they’re under some kind of watch. Hunter not so much since he’s taken, but these two are a hot commodity.”
She grins, touching my hand and Scott’s. “My hot commodities,” she laughs. “If I wanted, I could auction them and get a lot of money for them.”
“You’re a hot commodity too, sweetheart,” I remind her. A lot of men would love to marry the last name Beesley—and the fortune. They come from old money. Their ancestry can be traced all the way down to the Mayflower.
“I bet there’re a few pictures circulating on social media of the four of us.” Hazel ignores me. “Harmless comments regarding the mystery woman sitting next to Harrison, across from Scott. Is Scott finally with that Beesley girl? They have married, engaged me, knocked me up, and divorced me from them a million times. And I enjoy playing with that.”
“You need a hobby, Hazel.” Scott stares at the plate. “Is there going to be a real dinner afterward?”
Hazel smiles at him and steals a cherry tomato from his plate. “We can go to your place and order pizza after. Unless you want to cook something. I promise to bake cookies in exchange.” She takes a bite of his food and pushes her plate. “In fact, let’s go now. I’m starving.”
“Let me ask for the check.” I stop them.
She turns to look at me with that wicked smile I hate. “You two are staying. We’ll see you at the party in about an hour. Start working the Everhart charm on Miss Luna, Harrison.”
“Hazel is an evil
genius,” Luna states, eating her food.
“Evil. Take the genius away from the title.”
“You two remind me of Lucas and myself. She’s like your sister, isn’t she?” Luna determines and laughs.
I frown, not understanding her statement. “Who is Lucas?”
“My brother. He’s the middle child. Santiago is the oldest.” I nod a couple of times. “Tiago’s our half-brother.”
Her smile disappears. I take her hand, squeezing it lightly. “Everything all right?”
“Of course, my sugar levels are down.”
“Eat your food, and I promise to buy you a sandwich on our way to the party. Now tell me, is this ex-fiancé real?”
“Nah, I’ve never dated anyone for too long. You?”
“I lived with someone, but it didn’t work out,” I respond with the short, light version. “It happened fifteen, sixteen years ago.”
While we eat, and I eat Hazel’s and Scott’s too, I ask her more questions. She doesn’t have a favorite color but likes pastel tones.
“I’m not kidding, Harry Potter. The entire series is my favorite book. I’m not saying it just because your name is Harrison,” she claims. “How about yours?”
“It’s a tie.”
“Lord of The Rings and…hmm, what else could it be?” She taps her chin, smiling at me.
“You’ll never guess,” I invite her to surrender.
But she doesn’t, she continues with a long list of books, then mentions authors like Orwell, Asimov, Twain, King, Poe, and Hawkins and I finally stop her.
“You’re never going to guess.”
“Well then, tell me.”
“Instead, why don’t you tell me what your favorite food is?” I brush a strand of hair from her face and kiss her lightly on the cheek.
Luna isn’t a picky eater. In fact, she loves all kinds of food, liver included. Is liver edible? She lives in Alexandria, but she was born here in Manhattan. And we discovered that her father hates me.
“Special Agent Cristobal Santillan,” I repeat his name and massage my forehead.
I’m sitting next to the hottest woman I’ve ever met, and she happens to be the daughter of Cristobal Santillan. This is a cruel irony. If I make an attempt to even kiss her, her brother and her father are going to eliminate me. When this is over, Tiago is going to pay for this. Why hasn’t he mentioned that he’s related to him before… to them? The last name Cordero is way different from Santillan. “Wait, your brother is Luc Santillan?”
“It’s safe to assume that you know them, but you had no idea about our relations to Tiago.” She frowns.
“Tiago only talks about his mom,” I explain to her. “Your father hates me.”
“What do you mean he hates you?”
“We’ve worked with him a couple of times. He thinks I’m a useless piece of shit, his words.”
“That sounds like my father.” She beams. “He’s a teacher now at Quantico.”
“Telling the new recruits they’re pieces of shit?”
She laughs, and the sound is melodic, contagious, and addictive. I start to relax a little more into the idea of my position. I’ll get to spend several weeks with my brothers, and the company isn’t as bad as it could be. Maybe this mission isn’t as bad as I thought.
Chapter Nine
Luna
Stretched T-shirt, dried blood, and a badass attitude looked good on him. But that’s nothing compared to Harrison Everhart wearing a suit. His tall, broad body wrapped in dark gray is a sight I want to photograph, frame, and stare at forever. He’s the type of man who behaves differently depending on the place and time. For the past five hours, we’ve chatted pleasantly about our families. Nothing too superficial but nothing terribly intimate, either. If I had time to date, he’d be the kind of man I’d choose. Easy to talk to, funny, and a gentleman.
A refreshing change from the guys who I hook up with when I have time to go out with my friends. Which, lately, has been never. Maybe I have time, but I don’t want to waste it by doing the same thing over and over again. Meeting a guy who has few social skills, only talks about himself, and by the end of the date is the only one who is satisfied, isn’t great. I have little friendly toys that do a better job, and I don’t have to listen to nonsense.
This would be a great subject for a sociology class; the interactions between humans, and how they’re so out of touch with one another that dating has become a joke. What happened to love letters? The chase is so much different now than it was back when my parents dated. I should quit the Bureau and go back to school—finish my psychology degree go into anthropology or sociology. I would enjoy doing that more than having to jump through hoops to show that I’m capable of more things than my superiors like to acknowledge. If anything, I can write a book with Mom’s letters and notes.
A manual on how dating should be done.
“Everything okay?” Harrison asks when the service car stops and the driver opens my door. “You’ve been quiet since we left the party.”
Define okay? My skin tingles every time you touch me, the deep timbre of your voice makes me shiver, and dancing in your arms was a bit torturous because everything inside me wanted you to touch more than my bare shoulders and my waist. But yeah, I’m cool.
“Your brother and Hazel never arrived at the party,” I comment, not disclosing that I’d like to find out how my fake future boyfriend kisses. “Gia wasn’t there either.”
“I’m sorry about that. If you want, I can try to find out her whereabouts. My people can hack her phone and track her daily activities.” He smirks and winks. “We can start stalking her.”
“Stalking?” I boom, laughing and covering my mouth when a couple walking close to us turns to glare at me.
“Yeah, that’s the word, and you know what they say, ‘couples that stalk together stay together.’” He grins, his crystal blue eyes shining with the street lamp.
That grin is addictive. I shouldn’t mind pretending to be with him while I’m working. A little fun on the side maybe, or some sexy times. I haven’t had that in a long time. So long that I can only remember what my toys can do for me. But I care. He’s a distraction. Each time he smirks, touches me, or talks with that low-bedroom voice, I want to jump him. It’s not only unprofessional—it’s illogical.
“Anything for the sake of the case, right?” My voice comes out a little throaty, needy.
He clears his throat, looking around and poking the elevator. “We should do this again,” he says, leaning closer to me.
“Technically, we have to do it again.”
“Have I mentioned this is the best case I’ve ever worked on in my entire life?” He leans forward, kissing my cheek. His lips linger close to my ear for one too many seconds, and his musk-wood scent makes my stomach flutter.
“Thank you.” I swallow hard, turning around and stepping into the elevator. “We can discuss our next move tomorrow.”
I poke the elevator button. Looking through the doors that start closing, his gaze locks with mine. His eyes darken and the intensity of that gaze makes me feel vulnerable, bare. I imagine my skin searing with the touch of his big hands. As the doors close, my phone rings. An incoming message. Unknown numbers read across the screen.
Unknown: This was the best first date I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.
The corners of my lips stretch toward the sky when I read his words. Relief washes over me. I had no idea that his opinion mattered to me. I have to agree with him. This might be the best undercover operation I’ve had in my entire career.
Luna: It was great, wasn’t it?
Unknown: I propose that we take full advantage of the situation and spend the next few weeks doing what normal couples do.
Luna: Is that what you do during your undercover missions?
Harrison: This isn’t my mission and I’ve never been partners with a beautiful creature like you. We can mix it up, and find a middle ground where we can enjoy each other while we work. What do
you think?
I stare at the phone. This is new territory for me. The undercover operations I’ve taken part in usually include finding female informants. In most cases, I meet the family members of the missing people, run their profiles, and work some insider investigation. This is different from any other case I’ve worked on before because I’m away from home and the operation could take more than only a couple of weeks. Would it be possible to entertain the idea of being with Harrison while I work? It could work. As long as feelings aren’t involved.
Luna: It might work, we’ll have to talk about ground rules.
Harrison: We can make a few of those as we go.
Luna: Then it’s a deal.
Harrison: Good night, Moon.
Luna: Good night, Harry.
I put my iPod on the speaker, turn on the music, and soft jazz fills the air. I want to set a light atmosphere. Dad has been trying to get in touch with me, but I’ve been ignoring him. Now that everything's set to rights, I prop my phone up and call him.
“Luna bear, I’m glad you decided to call your old man.”
“Hello, Papá,” I greet Dad.
“How are you doing?”
“Great, this city is interesting. I can’t believe you moved back to Alexandria after…” I pause, we don’t speak much about her, but I wish he could tell me more about her. He doesn’t talk about his years living with her in New York. That life disappeared once she died. It’s maybe too early or too soon to bring her up but I’ve been thinking so much about her that I ask, “Do you still miss her?”
There’s a sigh on the other side. The pause is long. I wish he would talk about Mom a lot more than the usual, she loved you. She was the love of my life. Or my favorite when he’s drunk, I wished I could’ve saved her.
“Is that why you accepted the assignment?” His voice is severe.
“They wanted to move me to Quantico, Dad,” I answer with a different reason.
“Quantico isn’t bad, you’d be working next to me.” The tone is lighter, the worry still tangled with his words.
Fight For Me Page 6