She hadn’t betrayed anyone. She had never deserved the censure of the Agency or from herself. She’d made an error in judgment and had paid for that error in spades.
She was good at her job. She had to learn to let go of the setbacks. She’d helped save Kristen and Irene and had identified the Russian spy. That was enough reparation.
She was done now.
The realization had the weight falling from her shoulders like chains. She was free and could do whatever she wanted with her life. She looked at the card again.
TRUST ME. TRUST US.
The question was, what did she really want?
The ambassador looked up and caught Lucy’s gaze. Kristen ran over to grab her hand and tugged her across the room.
“Lucy saved me. Miranda and the man who held me planned to kill me. She risked her life, shielded me from bullets and fire and then helped me and Irene escape down a tree. She almost died falling out of the tree.”
“Not my finest moment.” Lucy admitted. She knew Kristen was trying to help make her look good. Catherine Dickerson would undoubtedly be furious that the Agency had sent someone undercover to her embassy, especially as everyone based there had been on the suspect list, including the ambassador herself.
Catherine gathered her daughter close again as Phillip and Kevin joined them.
“Thank you, Lucy. Thank you for saving our daughter.” Catherine held out her hand.
A lump formed in Lucy’s throat as she took it. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Is it true Miranda was a Russian spy?” Kevin asked excitedly. His eyes were red, and he’d obviously shed a few tears. Now he was looking for a distraction.
Lucy straightened her spine and leveled her fiercest CIA officer look at the young man she really liked. “Russian Agent, not spy.”
Kevin grinned. “I always knew you were a badass.” He took his sister’s hand in his, held on tight. “And I never liked Miranda.”
Lucy laughed. “You obviously have great instincts. You could probably work for the Agency.”
Phillip put his hands over his son’s ears. “Nope. Never gonna happen.”
Everyone laughed. Catherine turned serious. “I never suspected her.” She swallowed tightly. “I considered her a friend.” She slanted Lucy a look. “I suppose I now have to train two new assistants.”
Lucy pulled a face. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Catherine kissed Kristen’s temple. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters. Just Kristen and Irene being home safe. Miranda being exposed.”
“And us kicking some Russian ass,” Kevin put in with a fist pump.
“Kevin,” Catherine’s eyes were huge with shock as she tugged her daughter toward the inner door. “Come, let’s get cleaned up and get Irene’s hand examined by a doctor.”
Lucy tried to remain behind, maybe disappear out the back door. Kevin reached out and snagged her hand and pulled her along with the rest of the family.
“I want to know more about working for the CIA,” said Kevin loudly.
Lucy laughed and then stage-whispered, “First rule of working for the CIA is you don’t talk about the CIA.”
“Like fight club but cooler?”
Lucy let herself be carried along. Maybe she could spare an hour to make sure the families were okay. Make sure Irene was okay. After that, she needed to leave. Disappear. Vamoose.
But she was already burned, and she was burned out. There was no going back to what she’d been. She had to figure out what she wanted next. And whether or not that future included taking a chance on a certain good-looking FBI negotiator with an accent to die for.
Chapter Forty-One
Max lay on a sun lounger in Montevideo with his eyes closed.
All he’d wanted for months was to hang out with his buddies, but now he was here the only thing he could think about was Lucy.
She’d disappeared on him a few days ago. By the time he’d got out of interviews with the Diplomatic Security Service, the Legat, and the ambassador, Lucy had slipped away from the embassy. He’d dropped by her place, but no one had answered the door. DSS swore they didn’t know where she was. The resident spook had claimed ignorance.
The Russians had tempered their response to the arrests of three of their nationals when US officials had shown them the video of Agapov’s assassination of Miranda Foster and Hector Cabral. The Russians then claimed Agapov had gone rogue and had even made reparations for the ransom money that had been stolen. Agapov had disappeared. Chances were, he was already back in Russia, although Max figured the guy better avoid any windows for the next decade.
Max rolled over and checked his cell for the thousandth time that day. It was New Year’s Eve, and everything felt wrong.
Logan Masters eyed him knowingly.
Max ignored him.
“Who wants another game of water polo?” Noah Zacharius asked.
They’d spent most of the morning in the pool, then they’d crashed here for a few hours as they’d spent most of last night at a casino and were planning to do the same again tonight. Max was trying to have a good time. He hated being so ‘not in the moment’ when these men meant everything to him.
Inside he ached to get on a plane and find Lucy even though he didn’t have a clue where to start. Were her parents really doctors on the west coast? Did they live on an estate? He didn’t know. Wasn’t sure how he’d find her if she didn’t want to be found. Realistically, he knew he should wait for her to come to him, but what if she didn’t believe he was serious about her? What if she didn’t trust that the connection that had bloomed between them might be the real deal?
Max closed his eyes.
Logan’s phone dinged with a text. “Hmm.”
They all waited for Logan to add to his comment.
Noah cracked first. “Hmm, what? Did he find her?”
Max slid open an eyelid.
“He sure did,” Logan’s smile was self-satisfied and all-knowing.
Max took the bait. “Who?”
Noah sat up and wrapped a towel around his neck, showing off his tattoos that the local women seemed to appreciate. “The woman you’ve been moping over since you got here.”
Max groaned. He was a terrible friend. “I’ve been shit company. Sorry, guys.” His pulse picked up. “But what exactly do you mean by he found her?”
Logan grinned. “Did we mention that a good friend of ours runs the Farm?”
“The Farm?” Max mirrored although he knew what the goddamn Farm was. The CIA’s training facility.
Andy came over and sat beside him on the lounger. Taz stretched his arms over his head.
“And?” asked Max.
Logan glanced at Andy. “Killion said he has her home address. Ugh, but…”
“But what?” Max spoke between gritted teeth.
Logan made another noncommittal sound.
Max prayed for the patience not to kill one of his best friends.
“She didn’t return to the States yet.”
Max whipped off his sunglasses. “Then where the hell is she?”
Andy sent him a worried look. “You don’t think the Russians went after her, do you?”
Max covered his face with both hands. The idea of anyone hurting Lucy while he sat around here like a spare part had his blood pressure spiking.
“I have to go back. Track her down.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Andy shook his head.
“What the hell else should I do? How would you feel—”
“I think,” Andy interrupted him. “That you should look a little closer to home before you start chasing your tail all over South America.”
Max shook his head. “I can’t sit around here doing nothing. I’ll track those bank notes. Find Agapov and get the Russians to swap Lucy for him. Can you lend me any equipment? Maybe a pilot?”
His friends all looked at one another and smiled. They weren’t taking him seriously.
Frustration started to build.
/>
Andy put a hand on his shoulder. “Before you start planning your own black-ops mission that might start World War III, maybe you should check out that blonde over there on the lounger who can’t take her eyes off you.”
There were thousands of beautiful women in this city. “I’m not interested in other women…” Max glanced over at the female in question even as he dismissed her. Then he looked back, and his eyes widened. “Fuck.”
“She is hot,” Logan agreed.
“I’d do her.” Noah smiled his approval.
“Lucy,” said Max.
Noah winced. “I meant it as a compliment.”
Max wasn’t listening. Noah wasn’t an asshole. He worshipped women. But he wasn’t getting near this one.
Max strode around the pool deck. And although her eyes were covered with oversized sunglasses and her hair was short and spiky and dyed bright blonde, Max recognized her.
She watched him come to her. She wore a red bikini that showed off her lush curves. Max loved how confident she looked, but he’d loved her just as much in her ugly suit.
The “L” word struck him like a two-by-four in the forehead. This had to be love. Why else had he been feeling so damn wretched and now felt like a bottle of champagne ready to pop?
He sat on the lounger next to hers, facing her.
She swung her legs around and sat up. “Max.”
He reached out and removed her sunglasses. Stared into her pretty hazel eyes. Then he smiled and cupped her face with his palm. Everything felt brighter again. Everything felt right. “Lucy.”
She grabbed his wrist and squeezed. “I figured it out.”
“Aha.” Small words of encouragement to keep the other party talking.
“What I wanted.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s not a life in the Agency. I mean, it was fun before the Raminsky debacle, but it never felt like something I’d do forever.”
“Okay.” Keep her talking. Wear down her expectations.
“And,” three lines appeared between her eyebrows, “well, it’s not that exciting…”
“Exciting is overrated.”
“The State Department offered me a job in DC. Working in their translation office.”
“That’s fantastic, providing that’s what you want to do.” DC was close enough to Quantico they could see a whole lot more of one another. He kissed the palm of her hand and took hold of her other hand too.
She smiled, and he was captivated by the spark there, a spark she didn’t try to douse or hide. “I also figured out I wanted to see where you and I went. To trust the feeling even though I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
Max let his smile run free. “I’d like that too.”
He kissed the inside of her wrist. Heard her ragged inhale.
“How about we start with a date?” he said carefully.
She laughed. “How about you start by introducing me to your friends. Then I’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to talk to you before I started the drive home. I couldn’t concentrate thinking about how I didn’t tell you that before I left.”
“Wait. What?”
She laughed. “Which bit?”
Max scrubbed his head. “All of it. Also how did you find me?”
“Ah. Well. A senior intelligence officer reached out to me via certain channels and told me that a certain FBI agent was trying to track me down. I gave him permission to share my address if he told me where you were.”
Max grinned. “And you came to find me.”
A slight blush touched her cheek bones. “But I know this is a vacation with your friends. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”
He loved his friends, but he wanted her here too. They wouldn’t mind Lucy joining them, especially as he hadn’t been much fun without her. “You’re planning to drive home?”
“Only to Cartagena. Then I’m putting the Mini on a boat back to Miami.”
She was only driving through South America alone.
He pursed his lips. He didn’t know if this was a test or not, and he didn’t want to mess it up. “Are you in a rush to get back?”
She shook her head.
He breathed out slowly. “How would you feel about staying here with me for a few days and then me joining you on the drive back?”
Lucy shook her head. “I really don’t want to get in the way of your—” She yelped as he swept her into his arms.
“Is that your bag?” He nodded to a tote.
“Yes.”
He dipped her so she could grab her bag and coverup off the side table. Then he strode over to where his mates all sat with ridiculous grins spread across their ugly faces.
“Noah, Logan, Taz. You’ve met Andy.” Max gripped her tight. “Say hello to Lucy.”
“Hello, Lucy,” they said in unison.
“Lucy and I are going to catch a few hours’ sleep before we meet you for dinner later. Okay?”
Noah threw him his shirt which Lucy caught. Then Max turned and carried her into the hotel, across the lobby, and into the elevator.
“In terms of keeping a low profile, I’d say you score a zero, Supervisory Special Agent Hawthorne.”
He laughed and raised her in his arms so he could kiss her on the lips. “Let them look. I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms.”
She shook her head. “What if I decide to wear ugly suits and glasses I don’t need?”
Max shrugged. His fingers tightened on her flesh. “I don’t care what you wear or what you think you look like. I think you’re beautiful.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Max?”
“What?”
“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Her voice was small. “If that scares you, we should probably walk away from each other sooner rather than later. I don’t want my heart broken again.”
He felt a twist of something in his chest and then a flare of heat. “I have no intention of going anywhere, Lucy. I have no intention of breaking your heart.”
The smile that lit up her face filled the gap inside him and made him feel whole for the first time in years.
He walked into his hotel room and laid her on the bed and stretched over her, closing his eyes and savoring the sensation of her skin against his. She wrapped her legs around him, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally, finally everything felt right in his world again.
He leaned up so he could look down at her. “How about we practice the tango?”
She rolled him so she was on top, gripping his fingers, staring into his eyes like he was the only man she’d ever see. “I don’t know. It’s a very intense dance. Takes a lot of time to perfect.”
He shook his head. “I am more than willing to put in the work.”
One corner of her mouth twitched. She leaned down and kissed him, long and slow. “It’s very sexy too.”
“Very sexy,” he agreed.
And then he rolled her again, and she laughed, and it was the first time he’d really heard her laugh. He wanted to hear that sound every day. He wanted to make her happy.
He swept her hair back and stared into her green-brown eyes. “Let me know if I get it wrong.”
She stared back, and they weren’t talking about the tango anymore. They weren’t even talking about sex. It was them. Their relationship. Their journey.
She touched the side of his face. “Same. Let me know if I mess up or go in the wrong direction.”
He nodded and then he tickled her, and they figured out the tango together.
Thank you for reading Cold Cruel Kiss. I hope you enjoyed Max Hawthorne’s and Lucy Aston’s adventure! Please consider leaving a review at your favorite vendor so other readers might find this book.
Read an exclusive excerpt from my next book, Cold as Ice.
Darby O’Roarke woke up slowly. Her heartbeat banged for a few unruly seconds before she reminded herself. She was safe. It was over.
Her vision was foggy, the remnants
of some insidious nightmare clinging to the edges. She clutched the blanket tight around her as the room came into focus. Frowned. This wasn’t her bedroom. This wasn’t her house.
Where am I?
A familiar tightness started low in her abdomen and crept up her body.
Thick drapes were pulled haphazardly shut. The sun wasn’t up yet but in Fairbanks, in winter, that didn’t mean much. She lay on a lumpy, musty smelling couch. The walls had fake wood panels and Christmas baubles hung off a rack of antlers that were mounted over the fireplace. A man’s jacket lay draped over the nearby chair, next to her own red, goose down coat.
She remembered going to a Burns Supper with other grad students last night. She remembered dancing with Martin. Ceilidh dancing. The steps had been unfamiliar but the mood exhilarating. Unlike the rest of her existence she’d started to find rhythm in the rambunctious reels.
It had been fun.
She’d definitely enjoyed the dancing more than she’d expected. Even the haggis had tasted a lot better than she’d imagined though the whiskey had been less to her liking.
She glanced at the table and saw two dirty glasses and a half full bottle of twelve-year-old single malt. She frowned again. Martin had invited her over for a drink, but she didn’t remember much after that.
It was a black hole.
Had he…?
Did they…?
She pushed the covers aside, immediately relieved to find she was fully dressed. No soreness, either. Her mind flinched away from her memories. Maybe she’d passed out on the guy? Maybe she’d fallen asleep and he’d covered her up with a blanket and gone to bed?
She stumbled to the bathroom without bothering to turn on the light. She didn’t want to face her reflection in the mirror. Didn’t want to see the outer skin of the freak who resided there.
She washed her hands and dried them on a hand towel, reaching up to confine her unruly hair using the pony she wore on her wrist.
She headed back into the living room.
It was quiet. Dawn was just beginning to brighten the world behind the closed drapes.
Cold Cruel Kiss: A heart-stopping and addictive romantic thriller Page 36