Ramsey tries to open it. “It’s locked.”
“I possibly know where the key is.” Chloe groans. “It’s on my keychain…back at the seniors’ residence. In my purse. My mom gave it to me last Christmas…or at least I assumed it was from her. We send each other presents every year but never sign them, so my grandfather had no idea what we were up to.”
“I grabbed your purse after we realized you were missing,” I tell her. “It’s in Adam’s vehicle.”
After retrieving her purse from the SUV, we all return to the warm cabin, and Ramsey unlocks the box. The key had been cleverly disguised to look like part of a key chain, decorated so no one would clue in that it was more than just an ornament. Inside the box are a memory stick and a stack of documents.
Only the FBI agents get to peruse them, but from what they can tell us, Nikolai had been storing evidence for a while that paints Chloe’s grandfather in a terrible light.
All right, a worse light than he’s already in.
There’s also a note from Nikolai, asking Chloe to hand over everything to the FBI. And there’s evidence that the two men who kidnapped her are actually on her grandfather’s payroll, and not on his rival’s. Like the FBI, they were searching for Nikolai. His grandfather knew Nikolai had damaging evidence against him.
And Nikolai wasn’t afraid to use it.
Once the two agents are finished talking to Chloe and Tabitha, we’re allowed to leave.
“You’re driving, right?” I ask Adam as the four of us return to his vehicle.
“It’s my vehicle.” His tone rings with a no-duh attitude.
“Good. Tabitha, you’re riding up front with him. I’ll be busy making out with my hot girlfriend in the back seat.” Who was hot before, but even more so after she took down those two assholes who kidnapped her.
Adam groans. “Christ, don’t tell me I’ll be forced to watch you two going at it every time I check my rearview mirror.”
“So, don’t check the mirror.” I wink at Chloe.
She laughs.
I might not get to work for the next few months—the idea of which isn’t sitting well with me—but at least I’ll get to spend it with the woman I love.
And there’s nothing I want more than that.
Epilogue
Chloe
Three Months Later
I place the vase of white roses in front of the headstone. From a nearby tree, a bird chirps a cheerful tune. Even the rays of sunlight pushing past the breaks in the clouds seem joyful.
It’s almost as if Nikolai is watching me from heaven, smiling his approval of the life I’m now living. A life he could have lived if not for the family business.
A business he played a role in taking down.
At the neighboring grave, Mom replaces my stepfather’s red roses that she’d left the last time we were at the cemetery. They sit contently next to the flowers I set there a few minutes ago. My father’s and Mark’s graves are also here—far, far, far away from the Orlov family plot.
All four men were important to me. All four men deserve to be remembered in a way that had nothing to do with my grandfather.
Like me, Mom hadn’t known her two husbands were dead. She thought they had divorced her. She’d had no idea when she signed the divorce papers that both men were dead. My grandfather’s reach had gone further than we realized. His crooked lawyers made sure of it.
Landon rests his hand on my lower back, and I smile at the man who helped return my mother to me.
I kiss him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs before brushing his mouth against mine.
This isn’t the first time we’ve come to the cemetery since the four men were buried here. And each time we’ve come, Mom has joined us. Despite everything that happened, she never stopped loving either husband.
She just assumed her father had scared them off, which was why she never remarried after my stepfather disappeared.
But I suspect that might be changing soon—especially now that her father no longer has a role in her life.
I grin at the handsome man with her, who I’ve gotten to know over the past two months. Nigel’s wife passed away from ovarian cancer over a year ago, and Mom was the one who helped superglue his broken heart back together—first as his friend, and then as something more. He’s been doing the same for her after she found out the truth about her husbands.
Somehow, the news of their deaths hasn’t scared him away.
And for that, I’m thankful.
He kisses her temple, and I swear my face will split in two if my grin gets any wider. They’re freaking adorable together.
“You ready for your surprise now?” Landon asks me.
I nod. The four of us climb into Adam’s SUV, which Landon borrowed because there isn’t enough room for all of us in his jeep.
“You’re not going to give us a hint where you’re taking us?” Mom asks. “Not even a tiny one?”
Nigel laughs. “You remind me of my three-year-old granddaughter.”
That has Mom pouting, but the gleam in her eyes says the opposite.
“Did Landon tell you where we’re headed?” she asks him.
“He might have hinted, but I swore an oath that I wouldn’t tell either of you.”
Landon pulls out of the cemetery parking lot.
“Does the surprise have anything to do with Liam reinstating your status?” I ask. Until Landon finally received his medical clearance two days ago, he hadn’t been allowed to join his team on missions. And for the past two months, he’d been stuck behind his desk.
He was about as thrilled at that as a guppy coming face-to-face with Jaws.
Landon flashes me a cocky grin. “Nope.”
“You’re really not planning to tell me, are you?”
“Not until we get there.”
The only thing he has told me is that we’re going to Wine Country. And to pack for the weekend.
It’s late morning by the time we pull into the driveway leading to Enchanted Springs Winery. Ahead of us are two buildings, Mediterranean in design. A fountain sits in front of the smaller one. The other building is long, like a barn.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous,” I say.
“Glad you like it.”
Landon’s mysterious grin only piques my curiosity more.
“Are we here for a wine tasting?” I ask as the four of us walk toward the building, Landon holding my hand.
We drove past a few wineries on the way, but he didn’t so much as slow down at any of them. In fact, it’s like he’s been here before. He knew exactly where he was going without turning on the GPS.
“Not in the typical sense,” he says.
Mom and I share a confused glance.
We approach the smaller building, and Landon opens the door for us to enter. The tingle of a small bell above the door announces us.
The only other person inside the store is a woman in her forties, examining a bottle of wine. She looks in our direction and a warm smile grows on her face. “Landon, it’s nice to see you again.”
My curiosity cranks up tenfold. Landon never mentioned he knew anyone here.
She shakes his hand. “And you must be Chloe Reinhart.”
I nod. “That’s right.”
“I’m Regina Helm. It’s nice to finally get to meet the owner of the winery.” She spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the building and the vineyards beyond the walls.
But she’s not looking at Landon when she says it. She’s talking directly to me.
Huh?
“What do you mean?”
“Your grandfather bought the property several years ago and put it under your name,” Landon explains.
“He did?” That’s an odd thing to do after you boot your granddaughter from the family. “How come he never mentioned it to me?” An unwelcome thought hits me like a stick of salami to the head. I groan. “God, I’m going to be nailed with back taxes, aren’t I? It’s not like I declared this p
lace to the IRS.”
Was this the old man’s final act of vengeance because I wanted nothing to do with the family business?
Nice.
“You don’t have to worry about that. Your accountant was making sure the IRS was kept happy so no one inadvertently stumbled across your grandfather’s connection to the place. He wasn’t listed on the papers.”
Well, that would explain a few things.
“So, this is mine?” My voice comes out sounding like a chipmunk who’s been stepped on.
He nods.
“But I don’t know anything about running a vineyard.”
“Neither did your grandfather,” Regina says. “That’s why he hired my husband and me to manage the vineyard and the winery. And…well…we’re hoping you’ll still keep us on now that you’re officially the owner.” Her expression reminds me of when Whiskey’s eager for a treat—a treat he loves with all his doggy being.
In the short time Landon and I have known each other, he has gained the ability to guess what I’m thinking. And this time is no exception. “One of Liam’s contacts looked into the winery and the books. He was impressed at how well it’s doing.”
I smile at Regina, thankful no one is expecting me to suddenly take over the helm. “Well, in that case, I don’t see any reason for things to be changed around here. Other than the owner needing to become educated about what’s involved with running a winery. I hope you’ll be willing to help me there.”
She beams brighter than a firefly’s glowing butt. “Absolutely. Thank you.”
Landon threads his fingers with mine. “Now, if there are no objections, I’m stealing my girlfriend to show her around.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. Not that it would’ve probably mattered if there were any. Either way, he plans to steal me.
And I’m more than thrilled to be stolen.
By him—and only him.
He leads me out the door we came through and escorts me to the side of the larger building, where no one can see us. He presses me against the wall, every part of his body making contact with mine.
My body hums with excitement, with happiness, with need.
“This is you showing me around?” I ask on a lusty laugh.
Landon’s eyes darken. “Yes. I figured we’d start right here. With me showing you how much I love you…while it’s just the two of us.”
And he does precisely that.
His kiss like no other kiss.
His touch like no other touch.
Because he loves me as I love him.
The moment between us grows heated, which comes as no surprise.
What does surprise me is the music that suddenly starts playing on Landon’s phone.
“Hit Me with Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar.
It’s the song that plays whenever Liam calls him about work.
Landon curses under his breath, and I can’t help but giggle even though I have a feeling I’m not going to like the call any more than he does. It’s the curse a man makes when he’s about to be cock-blocked.
Landon accepts the call. “What’s up, Liam?” There’s a pause while he listens to whatever his boss has to tell him. “No, I haven’t…not since he left for Nevada to visit his grandmother.…He said it was a potential mission but didn’t say much else.…Really?…Okay. See you Monday.”
Frowning, he ends the call.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s Adam. He’s missing. The last time anyone saw him, he was entering a chapel in Vegas…to get married.”
Thank you for reading SPYING UNDER THE MISTLETOE.
Check out DECIDEDLY WITH LUCK to find out what happens between Kiera Ashdown and a certain NHL San Francisco Rock player at the “Jingle Balls” masquerade ball.
Masquerade ball rule #1: what happens at the ball doesn’t always stay at the ball.
Oops.
Want to know who Adam is marrying in Vegas? Stay tune for the next humorous Love Undercover romantic suspense in June 2021.
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Read on for an excerpt from Decidedly Off Limits
Kelsey
Best Friend Rule #1: never want the guy’s sister. Oops.
Chapter 1
Quick, name the top ten sounds you never want to hear while in your car—especially when said noise happens on the way to your best friend’s parents’ anniversary party.
Willing my car to cling to life for a few more feet, I pulled over to the curb. Cars, trucks, and SUVs rushed past, racing to get home for the weekend. The moment I made it to the side of the road, my car abandoned its will to live. The once purring engine took its final purr—well, more like a groan—then I was met with a deafening silence.
“Fuck.” Because, really, is there a better word?
I think not.
The car stuck behind me honked. My poor baby didn’t care if Impatient Guy had somewhere more important to go. She wasn’t going anywhere. I might not have known anything about cars, but even I could tell that much.
I checked over my shoulder at the busy lane next to me. I could have escaped via the driver’s side—if I didn’t mind risking my life and becoming roadkill.
Since neither was currently on my daily to-do list, I went with Plan B. I flipped on the hazard lights, stretched my leg over the gearshift, and tried to climb onto the passenger seat. Tall Victorian houses stood sandwiched together along the street. If they were human, they would have been snickering at me.
The hem of my short dress scooted up my thighs, and that sadly neglected part between my legs accidentally brushed against the gearshift. Naturally, it wasn’t too thrilled that this was the only action it would see. Which was a helluva lot more than it had seen for the past 460 days.
But who was counting?
Still awkwardly straddling the gearshift and doing my best not to dry-hump it, I performed a graceful face-plant onto the passenger side. My knee landed on the seat; my face almost smashed into the window. On the bright side the sidewalk was empty of pedestrians. No one had witnessed my moment of humiliation.
I shifted my body and opened the door. With my skirt still hiked up my thighs, I performed a complex move of climbing out while shimmying the hem back into place. The Russian judge would have given me a 2.5, mostly due to lack of technical skills…and well, grace. But at least this time I didn’t land on my face.
Why I climbed out of my car was anyone’s guess. To scowl at it, maybe. That was about the extent of my mechanical skills.
Since Erin—my best friend—and her husband were already at the party, I called AAA and pleaded for them to send someone. Preferably now.
Apparently, 5:00 p.m. on a Friday afternoon was NOT a good time to need AAA. The soonest they could send someone was in four hours.
The sun peeked from behind a cloud, reminding me there was indeed always a bright side. The party wasn’t far from here, and AAA would phone me when the cavalry was on the way.
Now, I just needed to get to the party.
In romance novels, this was the moment when the hero pulled over and offered to help the heroine. In thrillers, this was the moment when the serial killer pulled over and added another notch in his…well, whatever serial killers added a notch to.
A familiar black BMW pulled in front of my car and option B would have been favorable at this point. I inwardly groaned as Trent Salway exited his vehicle.
“Hey Kels, you need help?” Six-foot-plus of dark-haired male hotness in a black business suit walked up to me, and the ache between my legs let out a dreamy sigh. Clearly it hadn’t forgotten how I had been crushing on my best friend’s big brother for as long as I could remember—only for him to see me as nothing more than a little sister. More specifically, his best friend’s
little sister.
Trent’s gaze dropped to my lips and the ache between my legs drifted into its own fantasy land. It’s not what you think, my brain pointed out, always the party pooper. Your lip gloss is probably smeared.
Unconsciously, I ran the tip of my tongue along my lower lip. Trent’s sexy green eyes darkened, and his Adam’s apple shot up then slid back down.
His passenger door opened, yanking me out of my lust-filled moment, and a pair of never-ending legs, with shiny red stilettos attached, stepped out. Then in slow motion—or at least it seemed that way in my head—the rest of the body appeared from the car. At the sight of her, my heart clambered out of my chest and crash-landed on the asphalt with a big splat.
Whoever this woman was, she was the opposite of me. Her black dress clung to her slim body and her auburn hair was swept up in an elegant bun. Her makeup was smoky and made her look like a Hollywood starlet. My ex-fiancé used to call me kitten sexy—a nice way of saying I was cute—but I was nothing compared to this woman.
I had to admit, though, as my heart climbed back into my chest, she was perfect for Trent. She was sophistication on a stick.
Sophistication-on-a-stick smiled her perfect red lips at me. “Hi.”
I wished I could say her voice was like claws being dragged down a chalkboard. I wished I could say she didn’t have an Australian accent that would cause every guy within a ten-mile radius to blow his load at the sound of it.
“Kels, this is Holly,” Trent said. “Holly, this is my sister’s best friend, Kelsey.”
Holly offered her manicured hand and I shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.” The voice was so sincere and friendly, it was hard not to instantly like her, even if she was dating the man whose lips I craved.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Was I supposed to say that Trent had told me so much about her? And maybe he would have if I hadn’t spent the last ten years avoiding him. Which, I should point out, wasn’t easy when his family was pretty much the only family I had left, other than my older brother Liam.
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 28
