“Did your spy tell you how long she was here for?”
“About an hour or so.”
She dumps the pile of clothing into the suitcase. “She must have been visiting another tenant.”
“Can you think of anyone that might be?”
“Not really. There are a few single guys, but I can guarantee they aren't her type. There are also a few single women—again, not her type.”
“What about married men?”
“Yes, there are a few married couples, as well as couples living together.”
“Do you think she was visiting any of them?”
Chloe scrunches her lips together in thought. “Anything’s possible. For all I know, she’s having an affair with a married man in the building. Without knowing which apartment she was visiting, there’s no way for us to know for sure.”
After Chloe finishes packing, I drive her back to the town house, keeping my eyes open for anyone who could be trailing us.
Rule #1 when it comes to missions: Keep your eyes on your surroundings—and assume everyone is following you.
Spies and criminals are a lot cleverer than portrayed in movies and on TV. They don’t follow you from point A to point B, hoping you don’t notice them. The smart ones work as part of a tag team. One individual might turn down a street to look like they haven’t been trailing you for the last few minutes, and their partner takes up the pursuit.
Like with hockey players on the ice, communication is key.
So even though it looks like no one is following us, I always assume someone is. I never drop my guard. The moment you do, it’s game over.
At my town house, I park my jeep in the garage. Chloe’s car is on the street after Jayden fixed her tire and parked the vehicle there. “And just so you know, I’ll be driving us both to school tomorrow.”
“Why can’t I drive myself?”
“Because it’s harder to protect you that way.”
“So, not only are we dating a few days after we met, I’m also living with you, and you’re driving me everywhere? You do realize this means I’ve just set women back a few hundred years? What’s next? You’re going to tell everyone about our upcoming arranged marriage?” A huffed sigh follows her amusing mini rant, and she crosses her arms with a grunt.
“If it means keeping you safe, then sure.”
“Why can’t we just tell everyone the truth?”
“It’s better they don’t know about the contract on you. It’ll make people nervous.”
“Should they be nervous?”
“No. But my team wasn’t only hired to keep you safe. They were hired to figure out who’s got the contract on you and take out the man.”
“By ‘take out,’ you mean kill him?”
If Liam’s team was truly working for her cousin, then yes, more than likely, that’s what would be expected of us—which we wouldn’t do. But since we’re working with the FBI…
“No, I mean, make sure he’s locked away until his dying day. My team keeps to this side of the law.”
“Unlike my family,” she says under her breath. It’s not a question, but I treat it as though it is.
From what I can tell so far, Chloe is nothing like her family—that’s why she’s no longer part of it, I guess.
“That’s right,” I tell her.
“Does that mean you’ve never killed anyone?”
“I used to be with the Navy SEALs. So, yeah, I’ve killed quite a few murdering bastards during my years of service.”
“Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?” Her tone is like syrup, all hints of judgment hidden beneath the sweet layer.
“I’d like to think I’m more of a defender of the innocent and the defender of our right to freedom.”
“Like a superhero?”
I laugh. “Minus the cape and superpowers.”
She’s quiet for a moment before asking, “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”
“The ability to fly like Superman would be handy. The ability to ward off flying bullets would also be useful.” Especially in my line of work. Bulletproof vests can only take you so far. “What about you?”
“I’m not sure if it’s considered a superpower, but Wonder Woman’s lasso would be great. I could use it to make sure people are telling me the truth. It would save me a lot of heartache.”
I inwardly cringe since I’m not exactly innocent when it comes to telling lies. But I’m doing it for her benefit, not mine, as well as everyone else who is at risk because of her family’s criminal lifestyle.
I remove the two suitcases from the trunk and bring them inside. I then return for the three boxes she also packed, containing her computer and some art supplies, and everything else she’ll need for the next month or so.
“So, where am I sleeping?” she asks once I’ve piled everything on the foyer floor.
Good question. I hadn’t exactly thought that one through—and neither had any of the team. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch.”
“Isn’t this a two-bedroom town house?” she asks, eyeing the couch.
“The other room is my home office. It doesn’t have a bed.”
She looks me over and studies the couch. “Have you ever tried sleeping on that?” She points at it.
“Not really.” Okay, I did attempt to sleep on it once. It’s not exactly designed for someone my height.
“It’s doesn’t by any chance have a foldaway bed, does it?”
“Nope. What you see is what you get.” Or rather, what I get.
“How about you take your bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s the least I can do since you’re putting your life at risk for me.”
“It’s all part of the job.”
I don’t give her a chance to argue. I pick up her two suitcases and carry them upstairs to what is now her bedroom.
13
Chloe
The next morning, I round up my clothes and head to the bathroom. The door’s shut, but when I try the knob, it isn’t locked.
I push the door open…in time to see Landon standing on the bath mat.
Naked.
Beads of water glistening on his tanned skin.
Oh, my.
The polite thing to do would be to turn around or close my eyes—except I can’t get my body to do either of those things.
I stare at him. In shock.
The man looks good with clothes on. But—holy shish-kabobs—out of clothes is a whole different story.
I figured he was lean and muscular, but I never realized how cut he is. He’s like a piece of art.
And that includes his rather endowed nether region.
My face heats to a temperature hotter than hell, yet I’m still unable to get my legs or eyes to cooperate with my brain. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here.”
Landon reaches for his towel, seemly unbothered by my staring. His cock stirs to life under my gaze. “That’s my fault. I should’ve mentioned the lock is broken.” He wraps the towel around his hips. “I haven’t had a chance to fix it. I’ll get on that tonight.”
The Mayday, mayday, mayday message my brain is sending finally makes its way to my legs.
I swivel around and bolt, fully prepared to hide out in his bedroom for the rest of my life.
Possibly for all eternity.
A few minutes later, Landon calls out, “Bathroom’s all yours. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
I cautiously peer around the bedroom door and catch his clothed backside retreating down the steps. Then I scurry into the bathroom and have my shower. The entire time I’m in the bathtub, water sluicing off my body, I try not to dwell on how only a short time ago, the water was caressing his soapy body.
Lucky water.
No, no, no—mind out of the gutter, please. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a naked male body, but that doesn’t mean I should lust over him like a horny college-aged girl.
My mind might be on board w
ith that plan, but my body has other ideas. Every inch of it tingles with need.
I chew on my lower lip for a fraction of a second and reach for the body wash. I pour a small amount on my fingers and touch my now-aching core.
My near-quiet moan a minute later is swallowed by the noise of the water raining against the bathtub.…
By the time I step downstairs, dressed for my day with kindergarteners, the heady aroma of coffee fills the air.
Exactly what I need after last night.
The knowledge that someone wants me dead wasn’t exactly conducive to falling asleep. And it didn’t help that I spent the night in a bed that’s not mine.
A good portion of it was spent attempting to get comfortable in a bed that would typically be considered heavenly. The other part was spent watching the thin streak of light on the ceiling, willing it to turn into a flock of sheep, so I could count them jumping over an imaginary fence.
In the end, I fell asleep out of exhaustion.
And I’m sure everyone who sees me today will be able to tell I got very little sleep last night. The dark circles under my eyes don’t exactly scream otherwise.
“I made you breakfast,” Landon tells me, standing next to the stove, a cast-iron skillet in front of him. “There’s coffee if you want.” He nods toward the coffeemaker.
Two empty mugs sit on the counter, each with a different saying: “Holiday Survival Mug” and “Don’t Get Your Tinsel in a Tangle.”
I laugh and pick up the tinsel one, fill it, and add the proper amount of milk and sugar.
“I hope you like omelets,” he says, expertly sliding the contents of the frying pan onto the plate.
I take a long whiff of the air. “It smells amazing.” But that doesn’t exactly surprise me. So far, Landon has proved himself skilled in the kitchen.
He hands me the plate and gestures for me to sit. There’s already a plate in Landon’s place, covered with an inverted metal bowl. He sits next to me and lifts the bowl, revealing another omelet.
I take a bite of mine. “Oh, God, this is incredible,” I say around a moan, much like the one I made in the shower not that long ago—only a little louder this time. “What’s the plan for this morning? Are we just showing up at school and letting everyone guess that we’re a couple?” This is my preferred way of doing things, especially if it reduces the chance of anyone actually believing Landon and I are together together.
Of course, thanks to the dark circles under my eyes, everyone will assume I jumped into bed with him soon after he started working at the school, and I spent the entire night lost in hot passion and mind-numbing sex.
“I’m sure everyone will get the hint when we show up holding hands.” His tone is all business, as if he says this kind of thing to women all the time.
I feel my lips twitch into a grin. “So no big announcement on the PA system?”
He grins back. “That probably won’t be necessary.”
We quickly finish breakfast. Landon lives a fair distance from the school, which means we have to leave early if we want to make it there on time.
And then we have to hope we don’t get stuck in traffic.
We arrive at the teachers’ parking lot at the same time as Ava. Kiera’s car is already here, with my best friend sliding out of the driver’s seat. Her eyes widen when she sees me sitting in Landon’s jeep.
The expression isn’t mirrored on Ava’s face. She seems more amused than anything.
The two of them wait while we exit the jeep.
“Landon’s now driving you to work?” The surprise on Kiera’s face is mirrored in her tone.
Before I can reply, Landon threads his fingers with mine.
A move not missed by either Kiera or Ava.
Again, Ava doesn’t appear too surprised by any of this. Kiera looks ready to drag me down an alley and ask me what the hell is going on.
She’s familiar with my past—minus the part about my connection to the mafia. She’s aware I’m gun-shy about relationships because so many men in my life have walked away from me. Men who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
She looks between us. “What’s going on?” She turns to me. “Why is he holding your hand?”
“Because we’re kinda dating,” is my lame reply.
“Not kinda,” Landon corrects, pulling me to his side. “We are dating.” He gives my waist a little squeeze.
“Yes, what he said. We’re dating. Nothing kinda about it.” And since I don’t already sound like an idiot, I add, “Yessiree. Dating. When two people go out together and start kissing and getting all romantic.”
Kiera barks a laugh. “Thanks for the reminder of the definition for dating, given it’s been a while since I’ve been on one.”
The only way this could be more awkward? If I were standing here naked.
“So when did this all come about?” The skepticism in her tone has been dialed up like a burner on the stove cranked to high heat.
“Last night.” Going with the truth never hurts.
She nods, clearly waiting for me to elaborate.
“We…we went out for dinner. Together. And…and we thought we’d give dating a try.”
And the award for the worst actress ever goes to…
“Even though you two work together?”
“Well, I think it’s great,” Ava jumps in, smiling broadly. “I couldn’t think of a more perfect couple.” She hugs us both, but the hug she gives Landon is longer as she says something to him I can’t hear.
He gives her a small nod and winks at her.
She shakes her head as she rolls her eyes.
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” I say, “can we go inside?”
Judging from Kiera’s expression, that was the wrong thing to say. She narrows her eyes at me.
Oops.
“I also moved in with him,” I blurt as if someone had given me truth serum.
All things considered, it’s amazing that my grandfather didn’t banish me from the family as soon as I turned eighteen. Lying makes me squirm, and if the police or FBI had ever questioned me, I would’ve revealed everything I knew within for the first three minutes of the interrogation.
This is probably why my grandfather made sure I didn’t know anything that could get him into trouble with the law.
At my news, Kiera’s eyebrows come close to knocking against her hairline. “You. Moved. In. With. Him.”
I vaguely hear Ava mutter, “Oh, boy,” but I’m too busy trying to convey to Kiera with my eyes that I know what I’m doing to look Ava’s way.
“That’s right.” I glance around me, searching for a rock to hide under.
“You’ve only known him for a few days.”
“You do realize he’s standing right next to me? He can hear you.”
She whirls on him. “Then maybe he can tell me why the rush to live together. Or can I expect a wedding invitation by the end of the day?”
I choke out a laugh. “Definitely not.”
Ava puts her hand on Kiera’s shoulder. “I’m sure they have a good reason for moving so quickly. But whatever the reason, you can trust Landon. He would never do anything to hurt Chloe.” She gives him a meaningful look. “Isn’t that right?”
“Ava’s right,” he says. “Now, I don’t know about you, ladies, but I need to get inside to prepare for my students.” He doesn’t give me a chance to object or stick around to talk to my friends. He tugs me along, still holding my hand.
And I willingly go with him.
Anything to escape further interrogation from Kiera.
“Well, I’d say that went well.” My tone is a cross between a grumble and a snorted laugh. “Told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“Trust me, that’s nothing compared to being shot at.”
Hopefully, that’s something I’ll never have to find out for myself. Just the threat of it yesterday was bad enough.
I start to head to our classrooms. Landon has different
plans and steers me toward the main office. “There’s someone I want you to meet first.”
We step inside. Instead of Jeanine standing behind the desk, a woman about my age with dark hair—complete with cool blue chunks—pulled up in a loose bun, is there in her place. Her knit dress is classier than you’d typically expect to see in an elementary school.
She’s talking to a good-looking man whom I’ve never seen before.
At the sound of the door clicking shut behind Landon and me, the pair peers over in our direction. The woman smiles at me…then her gaze drops to Landon’s hand, which is still encasing mine.
Her smile broadens.
Landon leads me over to the pair. No one else is in the office. Principal Woodnut’s door is shut, which means she’s on the phone.
“Chloe,” he says. “I’d like you to meet Isabelle and Adam. They’ll be working undercover with me in the school.”
“I’m taking over Jeanine’s job,” Isabelle explains, in case I hadn’t figured it out for myself based on where she’s standing.
Adam nods his greeting. “I’m the unofficial assistant janitor.”
“Unofficial?”
“That means I’m assisting the janitor, but I’m not getting paid for it, so I’m not on the school board’s payroll.” I’m sure the union will love that if they ever find out.
“We don’t want to take any chances when it comes to the students here,” Isabelle says, looking none too concerned about riling up any unions. “But we also don’t want to draw any attention to the situation by having uniformed cops in the school.”
A winter chill takes up residence in my gut and wraps me in its icy blanket. “Are you sure the students will be safe?”
“We’re taking extensive precautions,” Landon says. “In addition to Isabelle and Adam, we have two other men watching the building from outside.”
Isabelle’s lips move into what I’m assuming is supposed to be a reassuring smile. “No one will do anything to harm you or anyone else at the school. We’ll make sure of it.”
I hope she’s right, because I didn’t escape my former life only for it to be the cause of my death. That would further add to the suckage of spending Christmases without my mother and Nikolai for the past six years.
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 10
