Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  I feel my mouth stretch into what I hope resembles a genuine smile. That’s what I get for letting my thoughts drift to my ex-fake boyfriend. “I volunteer here. What about you? What are you doing here?”

  “I heard great things about the place…and well, I thought I’d check it out for my grandmother. Ever since my grandfather died a few years ago, I’ve been worried about her living alone in her apartment.”

  “I’m sure she’ll love it here. The residents and staff are friendly, and I haven’t heard any complaints about the apartments.”

  “Do you volunteer here often?”

  “Three days a week. Most of the residents are like grandparents to me.”

  “I’m not sure if I could handle more than one set. My grandmother fusses over me like I’m still six years old.”

  “I think that’s sweet. I don’t have any grandparents.” Close enough. “So I love having so many here. But I must admit they’re getting to the point where they want to marry me off, so I can give them all a great-grandchild.”

  I’m not joking. A few hinted earlier that maybe Landon would be the one to knock me up—because God knows their own grandchildren aren’t in a rush to be in a family way.

  Their words, not mine.

  He laughs. “That sounds like my grandmother. I think that’s why she was devastated when I broke up with my last girlfriend.”

  “She really liked her?”

  “Not at all. She was that desperate to be a great-grandmother. I’m positive she’s got a competition going with her friends as to who’s going to be the first great-grandmother.”

  “Well, I hate to tell you this, but things won’t be much better if she moves in here. The seniors here are just as competitive.”

  “Do they know you have a boyfriend?” Eric asks, reminding me I’d told him the other day that I had one.

  My face must have given something away because he cringes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you guys broke up.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. It just happened the other day.”

  “That would explain the ghost my grandmother was positive she’d heard in your apartment yesterday. It wasn’t a ghost, was it?”

  “Nope. Just me. Or I’m assuming it was me and not a ghost.”

  “Bad breakup?” He openly winces. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

  “It’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Between the lies and the fate of any man who loves me, Landon and I were destined to be only temporary.

  “So how devastated are you?”

  “Are we talking on a scale of one to ten?”

  “Chloe,” Samuel says, shuffling toward us. “We need an extra player for our poker game. And everyone at the table nominated you to join us.”

  My mouth tugs up at the corners to the point where my cheeks ache. “That’s because you know I’ll lose.” I’m just as bad a poker player as Landon.

  He winks at me and offers his arm so he can escort me into the recreation room.

  “It was nice seeing you again,” I tell Eric, relieved to get out of explaining that on a scale from one to ten, I’m a twelve when it comes to my fake relationship ending with Landon.

  After I finish my volunteer shift, I return to my vehicle, saluting Adam as I walk past his SUV. He nods at me.

  In my car, I adjust my playlist to an upbeat Christmas song. The asphalt sparkles in the streetlights, the ground wet due to the rain that fell while I was inside.

  I turn over the engine and pull away from the parking lot. Traffic is lighter now than it was when I arrived. As I draw near the first set of traffic lights, it turns green, and I continue through the intersection, following the car ahead of me.

  I glance at the rearview mirror. To my surprise, Adam isn’t behind me. Either he decided to stop the charade that my life is in danger, or he’s more stealth than he’s been.

  That’s the last thought I have before the sound of metal-hitting-metal rips through the passenger side of my car, and my vehicle is sent rolling.

  My temple hits the side window, and the world goes black.

  27

  Landon

  My phone rings from the coffee table. Even without looking, I know it’s Liam.

  I mute the TV and grab the phone. On the TV screen is the sappy holiday Hallmark movie I was watching, but Liam doesn’t need to know about that.

  Whiskey is snoozing next to me on the couch. He’s not supposed to be there, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  And at this point, neither do I.

  We both miss Chloe.

  I accept the call. “What’s up?”

  “It’s Chloe,” Liam says by way of a greeting. His tone has me jumping to my feet. “Adam called. There’s been an accident. The paramedics are transporting her to St. John’s hospital.”

  My long legs eat up the distance between the couch and the foyer. “Is she okay?” I already know the answer. I can hear it in his tone.

  I snatch up my jeep keys from the side table.

  “I have no idea. Adam couldn’t tell me anything beyond where they’re taking her.”

  “I’m on my way.” I end the call.

  The drive to the hospital takes far too long. The urge to channel my inner race-car driver accelerates, and I have to fight not to press my foot on the gas and weave through the traffic.

  I also have to fight the urge to drive in the opposite direction, thanks to the memories from the last time someone I loved was hospitalized after a run-in with a vehicle.

  Things didn’t end so well for Sarah.

  What if the same thing happens with Chloe?

  What if she’s currently in a coma and on life-support?

  A new memory, of Sarah’s parents pulling the plug, slams into me from all angles. It takes everything in me to ease my foot off the gas, and not get into an accident.

  Adam is just inside the waiting room doors when I arrive. “How’s she doing?” are the first words out of my mouth. The smell of disinfectant and dying people assaults me. I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself.

  Keep it together, man. This isn’t the first time someone I care about has been injured or killed. I was in the goddamn SEALs after all.

  But for some reason, this time it feels different. More personal.

  “I have no idea,” Adam says. “They haven’t told me anything. I’m not family.”

  Damn. I didn’t even think of that.

  I doubt as her fake boyfriend, they’re going to tell me much either.

  I stride straight to the front desk. “My fiancée, Chloe Reinhart, was in a car accident and was brought here.”

  The woman taps away at her keyboard and checks the screen. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you any information right now.”

  “Can I see her?”

  She shakes her head. “Sorry, you’ll need to wait in the waiting room. The doctor will call you when he has something to tell you.”

  I attempt a different tactic. “What should I tell her family?”

  Am I planning to contact them? Hell, no.

  She needs that as much as she needs an elf shooting pucks at her head.

  “Exactly the same thing I told you.” She flashes me a look that’s part pity and part “now move along, please.”

  “Can’t you at least let me know if she’s okay? Is she conscious?”

  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know anything more than I’ve told you.”

  It’s clear from her expression that she’s telling the truth. I nod and pivot to return to Adam.

  But instead of joining him, I keep walking out the sliding doors.

  The memories of Sarah’s accident continue to pound on me. I loved her, but that had meant shit-all. I couldn’t protect her, no more than I had been able to protect Chloe.

  The difference was it hadn’t been my job to protect Sarah—not in the same way it was for Chloe.

  I’d let down both women. I’d let down so many people.

  I begin pacing in front of th
e hospital doors. “Fuck, I can’t do this,” I mutter to myself.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Is there any reason you’re making a trench in the sidewalk?” Adam asks. I didn’t even notice him leave the hospital.

  “What the hell happened?” My pacing doesn’t slow. I can’t do this.

  “I don’t exactly know. She left the seniors’ residence, and I followed her. But a delivery truck cut in front of me. By the time I caught up with Chloe, her car was upside down in the middle of the intersection. Witnesses said they saw a truck plow through the red light at an excessive speed. It didn’t stop to check on her. It kept going.”

  I continue pacing the entire time he tells me this.

  “Do you know if the light had just turned red, and the driver didn’t have time to stop?”

  “According to witnesses, the truck had plenty of time to stop. If anything, it accelerated when Chloe approached the intersection.”

  “So, it was deliberate.”

  The fact that the driver didn’t bother to stop after ramming into her confirms that. The motherfucker wanted her harmed.

  I run my hand down my face, the helplessness from all those years ago worming its way in. I want to punch my fist through the wall.

  Or better yet, the man responsible for putting Chloe in the hospital.

  And while we’re at it, how about I just add her grandfather, cousin, and everyone else in her family who embraced that life of crime.

  If it weren’t for them, things would be so different for Chloe. For one, she wouldn’t be struggling with the belief that any man she loved would eventually be murdered.

  The chill in the air seeps through my long-sleeved T-shirt. But despite the cold and the bone-chilling dampness, I can’t bring myself to step back inside the building.

  “Still no word,” Adam says, returning at one point after checking with the unit clerk if there’s any update on Chloe’s status.

  “You’d think they’d at least tell me something. What with me being her fiancé and all.”

  “You might have gotten further if you’d been more creative. Couldn’t you have come up with something not so clichéd?”

  I throw him a look. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time someone I care about lands in the hospital.”

  I pause my pacing long enough to catch Adam’s raised eyebrow.

  “So you do care about her.”

  “Of course I do. She’s my fake girlfriend?”

  I can practically hear the eye roll in his tone when he replies, “Since when was caring for someone necessary for being in a fake relationship?”

  I pretend it’s a rhetorical question and go back to pacing, my strides picking up speed. Between that and the anger and frustration flaring up inside me, I’m hot enough to toast s’mores on my body.

  Liam and Connor approach us from the parking lot, concern lining their faces.

  “Any word on how she’s doing?” Liam asks.

  “No,” I grumble. “Even being her fiancé isn’t getting me anywhere.”

  I’m not looking at either of them, but I can feel their questioning gazes directed at me.

  Adam fills them in. “He told them that because he hoped it would get him some answers.”

  “I take it that didn’t work,” Liam says, not without a touch of humor in his tone.

  Neither Adam nor I respond, figuring he already knows the answer.

  Liam pulls out his phone. “Let me see if our FBI contacts have been given an update.”

  I pull up short. “They know about the accident?”

  “I called them as soon as I heard. Adam told me enough to make me believe it was a targeted hit.”

  “There’s a chance it had nothing to do with the contract,” Connor says. “It’s possible Nikolai Orlov is responsible. He’s got to be aware that we’re working with the Feds.”

  “And he believes Chloe knows something that will expose his location,” Adam finishes for him, nodding like this is a likely scenario.

  Liam steps away from us for a moment to talk on the phone. A minute later, Agent Foden exits through the sliding doors and approaches us.

  She gives me a nod. “I can take you to see her.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  She doesn’t say anything as she leads me to a private room at the back of the ER. Agent Ramsey is standing outside the closed door, talking to a cop.

  “Any idea who did this to her?” I ask them.

  “We’re examining several feasible likelihoods,” Ramsey says.

  I mentally fill in what he isn’t saying. “In other words, you don’t have any real suspects.”

  Neither agent flinches at my comment—or reveals what they’re thinking.

  “We suggested witness protection to her,” Foden says. “But she’s not interested.”

  Suggested? They’ve been able to talk to her for God knows how long, while I’ve been creating a trench in the sidewalk to rival the Grand Canyon?

  I frown. “What do you mean she’s not interested?”

  “Exactly that. She said something about seniors counting on her for the Christmas show, and she doesn’t want to let them down.”

  We’ll see about that.

  Without waiting for either agent to grant me permission, I push open the door and enter Chloe’s room. The haunting hospital smell and my memories of Christmas past continue to press in on me—and double up the moment I see her.

  San Francisco isn’t known for temperatures that drop low enough for snow. But at seeing Chloe, lying on the bed, head propped up, an avalanche of frozen crystals crashes through my veins.

  It’s not Sarah. It’s not Sarah…

  I attempt to suck in enough air to fill my lungs, but they appear to have forgotten how to do that. All I see is Sarah’s crumpled body.

  Chloe’s eyelids flutter open. Or at least one of them attempts to open. The other one is swollen shut due to the bruising on her face.

  Her good eye gazes blearily at me, as though she’s trying to focus on my face, but it’s not quite there yet.

  She’s not in a coma. She’s not going to die.

  “Hey,” I say, willing my legs to walk over to her, trying to mentally defrost them.

  “Hey,” she whispers back, voice hoarse, like it’s forgotten how it’s supposed to sound.

  I feel my lips stretch into a soft smile, still unable to propel my body forward. “How are you feeling?”

  The corners of her mouth attempt to twitch up, an epic fail as a result of the swelling. “I’ve felt better.”

  The sound of her voice loosens something inside me, the same way driving over a deep pothole jars loose something vital—something that keeps the engine together, keeps it running smoothly.

  “Agent Foden said you’re not interested in going into witness protection.” My voice comes out even, empty of the emotion churning inside me. Flat.

  “I’m not throwing away everything I’ve accomplished so far because of one stupid accident.”

  “Even though the next stupid accident might cost you your life?”

  Might leave her in the same position her father, stepfather, and former boyfriend found themselves.

  I resume pacing back and forth between the window and the door, the ice crystals starting to thaw.

  “I’m not giving up everything I’ve worked hard for just because I was born into the wrong family.”

  “Is this because of the Christmas concert?”

  She doesn’t say anything; her eyes give away the answer.

  “You’re risking it all for a stupid Christmas concert?”

  She lifts her chin, an act of defiance and determination that normally I’d find sexy.

  Not, so much now.

  Now it makes me want to glare at her while frosty tumbleweeds roll across the room, a stare-down to rival all western showdowns.

  “You know that the concert means everything to those seniors,” she says. “They’re looking forward to it. The kids are
looking forward to it.”

  “Are you telling me the concert’s more important than your life?”

  She winces, but I can’t be sure if that’s due to my words or because she’s in pain. “I’m saying it’s important to me since it’s part of who I am. You need to protect people and feel like you’re in control. And I get that I’m not making your job any easier.

  “I’m sorry, I really am. But I was born into a family that lives for money, no matter how they get it. I’ll never be able to make up for the pain they’ve caused, but I can try to make a difference in some people’s lives.” She sags farther into her pillow like a balloon that’s lost some of its air.

  “It’s not your job to make up for everything your family has done, Chloe. That’s on them.” And the legal system.

  “I know, but at least it’s a start. Besides, it makes me feel good to know that I’m making a difference, I’m making people smile. Do you really want to take that away from me?”

  Yes—if it means keeping her alive.

  She’s not Sarah. She’s not Sarah.

  “In that case, I can’t be your fake boyfriend anymore.”

  The corner of her mouth twitches to one side. “If memory serves me correct, I already dumped you. Unlike our fake relationship, that was real.” She releases a heavy breath and winces again. “Besides, maybe the killing curse doesn’t differentiate between real love and fake relationships. It might get the wires crossed and end your life like it did the others. It’s a risk you can’t afford.”

  I should be telling her that she’s got it all wrong. She’s not responsible for the deaths of those men. She’s not cursed. Someone else ended their lives.

  I should be saying all those things, but that’s not what I blurt out. “Good luck, Chloe, with everything. Adam or Jayden will be taking over my role with this mission.”

  My heart aches that I won’t be there to watch the kids perform in the concert. They’re working so hard to prepare for it.

  I don’t give her a chance to say anything else.

  I walk out the door.

  Liam and Adam are talking to Agents Ramsey and Foden in the hallway.