by Tara Brown
“Hey!” I said.
She laughed. “The first one was the decoy. There was another one pasted right into the envelope seams. They're getting sneakier.” She rolled her dark-brown eyes. “I'm Luce.”
“Evie.”
She nodded. “I know. I knew your husband.”
“Yeah, apparently, everyone did.”
“Uhm, well, I’m pretty sure I didn’t know him like that.” She laughed and handed back the picture and the room key.
I folded the picture and put it and the keycard in my purse.
Between the water and soap cycles, the car door opened. Coop jumped in and slammed it shut. He pulled off the wet coat he was wearing.
“That was fun.” He grinned at me.
“What are you doing? You should’ve told me I was getting a different cabbie. Did you hide in the car wash all this time?” I asked, trying to see through the soapy windows.
“No. Can't always get the same driver. Duh.” He leaned forward and slapped Luce on the arm. “You get the bugs out?”
She glared back at him. Her body was thicker than mine, how an agent should look. I bet she could bench press me. I glimpsed down at my feeble arms and remembered how they used to look. I used to be beefier. Yoga was relaxing, but I wasn’t building any bulk in those classes.
Coop turned. “How was it?”
“I can't do it. I'm going to have to run for it.”
“What?” He frowned back. “Did he hurt you?”
I laughed and tried not to think about the thing he did do to me. “No. He was a perfect gentleman,” I lied.
Luce peered back and nodded, biting her lip. “He's hot, like what-the-hell hot. I’d let him hurt me for an hour or two. Shit, I might hurt him.”
“Oh my God.” I started laughing and tried to cover my blush. “Yeah, uhm—wow. When did arms dealers stop resembling Boris Yeltsin or Bin Laden? I actually remember when George Bush Jr. was the hot guy in amongst the dictators and presidents.”
She laughed with me but Coop frowned. “He's a murderer.”
“I got the impression he doesn’t believe Mel and James are dead either. And he asked me to murder a fat guy in a cliché gangster white suit.” I groaned.
Luce winced. “No one is hot in a white suit. Not since Miami Vice.”
“Right.” I pointed at her. “True story.”
We were instant friends. I liked it.
Coop seemed confused. I liked that too.
The wash ended, forcing Coop to slink back in the seat. He ducked down quickly when Luce started the car and drove out.
“I can't kill that man,” I murmured, not wanting Luce to hear I was all bark and no bite.
“I know, and yet you have to.” His eyes twinkled. The steely blue was gone and in its stead was a sarcastic brightness.
My right eye began to twitch. “You're getting off on this, aren’t you?”
He snickered. It was a real snicker like a kid would do. “I am. You are well known as a counter intel agent. You are the gold standard and have been since you left. You had an amazing reputation. It's fun to see you freak out and not know what the hell to do.”
Luce turned back as she drove out of the city. “It's true. I’m honored to be working with you. It's good to have you back.”
“What?” I shook my head. “No. Not back. I'm not working again.”
She gave me a look in the rearview. “You sure about that?”
“Well—” I exhaled, defeated. “No.”
Coop put his hand on mine and squeezed. “Trust me, okay?”
I did trust him but I didn’t know why.
When Luce dropped me off, Coop whispered, “See you in five.”
I gulped and got out. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No worries. See you soon. Vegas, baby!” Luce joked.
I closed the door and walked up to the house. My house that for the first time I was scared of, unsure of what waited inside for me. A small part of me wished it were my kids and my mom. I would’ve even taken James greeting me at the front door. He was the devil I knew.
Instead, it was dimly lit from the setting sun and frightening. My home felt as fake as everything else. My life was a mess and the road to fixing it seemed outlandish, even to an ex-intel agent.
I stood in the middle of the foyer, terrified to enter the rest of the house and be alone in it, when Coop came through the kitchen. He walked across the floor, making no noise.
Seeing his silhouette in the shadows of the house made me feel better, less alone in the world. He whispered, “You need to get ready.”
I whispered back, “I know.” But I didn’t know why we were whispering. I had debugged everything, hadn’t I?
6
The mile-high club
Being as I had let myself slip a little in the grooming department, I spent half an hour scrubbing, shaving, using a loofah on everything, and once I had finished in the shower, another fifteen with the tools for the plucking and primping. I wasn’t certain when I’d done it last, and I didn’t want to admit why I was doing it. Instead, I told myself I was shedding the skin of the old me. The me that bought all of James' lines.
I frowned, realizing I was again thinking not-so-holy thoughts about the arms dealer who had kissed me like I had never been kissed.
I needed to focus on the mean cougar comment from the little shit downstairs. That was a libido killer if anything was.
As I finished the worst of it, I wiped the mirror dry and surveyed my naked reflection. I looked good—pretty good. Okay, not “nineteen” good or however old Coop really was. Between him and James, I was feeling fairly hideous. James had me doubting my self-worth and Coop had me doubting my wiles. Servario, on the other hand, made me feel pretty and sexy. In fact, he made me think things I only thought about when I was alone with a one-handed read.
I leaned into the mirror and whispered, “Your kids and your mother need you. This isn’t about sex. You have more self-respect than to let a man have you and not love you. Try to remember that.”
My libido had gone a long time without any loving and was prepared to wrestle over the matter. It made comments fly through my brain like sex is not love and sometimes a little loving can help you get past things or clear your head and what about me?
I was already justifying kissing a criminal and possibly enjoying every second of it. His thick arms and sexy lips made me think there was no possibility I wouldn’t enjoy it. I was going to savor it as if it were the last time. Of course, with him there was a huge chance it might be the last time. Not to mention, I clearly wasn’t great at it. James had fucked everything that moved for a reason.
Suggesting the devil on my shoulder had won, I grinned at myself like a Cheshire cat. “Who better to learn dirty shit from, than a bad man I’ll end up killing anyway?”
Gah! I was letting my vagina do all the talking. I turned on the cold water and splashed it on my face and then pointed at my dripping reflection in the mirror. “Stop. One job and you are back to retired soccer mom.”
Instead of focusing on a desperate need to show James up, I distracted myself with the routine I used to do daily when getting ready, before marriage and yoga pants.
I put on body cream and deodorant and styled my hair and straightened it. I ran my fingers through the long dark silk. It almost felt as good as it had when I was young.
To finish I put on makeup and stepped back, grimacing down at my wedding ring. I must’ve put it on subconsciously again, just as I’d been doing for weeks. I pulled it off and put it in the drawer to prevent that same mistake. I’d save it and give it to Jules when she got older, as long as she never found out the truth about her father. If she did, she might not want the damned thing.
I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering if I could do it, if I could kill the fat man to save my family? He was probably a bad man anyway. Nothing mattered but my kids’ safety. The whole point was to get us through this, no matter what I had to do.
I left
the bathroom, naked, and crossed to my closet where I picked out a bra and matching underwear. After those, I slipped on a knee-length skirt and a pale pink blouse. I finished with ballet flats and walked out.
When I was completely dressed and ready to go, I checked myself in the mirror. I looked pretty but innocent and the clothes were a sensible choice. The flats would guarantee I could run and the blouse was baggy in case I needed to bring a gun and have it tucked in my back.
Yay, all the old thoughts and all the old actions were fitting back nicely in my brain.
“You look pretty.”
I jumped. “Stop doing that.”
Coop grinned from the bed where he watched me.
“And get off my bed.” I wrinkled my nose.
He laughed. “I came to tell you it’s time to go and you streak across the room naked—and looking good by the way. I might take back that cougar comment if I thought it would do me any good.”
“It won’t.” My face flushed. “You can’t take back cougar. That’s permanent damage.” I turned and walked out of the room, forcing myself to chant, “Cougar, cougar, cougar.” I didn’t need to add young hot agent lying on my bed to my list of things that triggered my instability and raging hormones. The adrenaline was getting to me. It was how James and I had hooked up in the first place. I had a thing for the thrill and the sex afterward. I loved the chase and the mission and the constant stress.
I made it to the bottom stair before he was there. He grabbed my hand and spun me. “I'm sorry. I had no idea you didn’t know you were a cougar.”
“What?” I gasped and dragged my hand away from him. “You asshole! Cougars are forty. Forty and up.”
He raised his eyebrows visibly doubting my statement. “Okay.”
“Fuck you.” Disgust crept across my face. “I can’t believe you saw me naked! You’re a Peeping Tom.”
“It’s not the first time, Evie.” He chuckled.
My eyes wandered the house briefly, terrified someone was watching us. “How long have you been watching me—us?” I asked, starting to feel a bit weird.
“A while. We weren’t watching you though. We were watching him.”
“Did you watch my kids in the bathroom?”
He was clearly horrified. “What? That’s disgusting. What's wrong with you? No. No one watched the kids at all. Bathrooms and bedrooms had listening devices only. We aren’t perverts.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I want whatever shit is still here, out of this house. No more bugs and cameras.” I was confident I had found most of them but I didn’t want to chance it; I might have missed some.
“No.” He closed his eyes. “You are so aggravating. I'm not even having this conversation.” He turned and strode away.
“We’ll be having this conversation when we get back.” I checked the clock and took a breath.
“It's time to go.” He came back in. “Do you know who the fat man is? He's a brother to an arms dealer in Havana. Dangerous family and a really nasty guy. You should feel okay about killing him.”
“You went through my purse?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t give it to me and I needed to see it. You were in the shower. You took forever in there.”
"Don't go in my purse." I shoved him, but he grabbed my hands and dragged me into the broom closet beside him.
“Evie,” he whispered my name in the dark as he brushed his lips against mine.
It was the ultimate moment of conflict. One half of my mind was chanting cougar and the other half was already mentally taking my blouse off.
The strong half won as I shoved him back.
“That was offside, Coop.” I pressed my back against the door, feeling around in the dark for the knob. “You’ve insulted me at least eight different ways since we met. I don't know what game you're playing at but I'm not interested.”
He took a step closer. “Evie, we need to talk about the things that might happen,” he whispered again.
“Uh no.” I opened the door and turned, running up the stairs.
“Evie, wait.” He ran after me, but I slammed the bedroom door, locking it and running to the bathroom. I closed that door and locked it too. He was in the bedroom and banging on the bathroom door by the time I turned the lock.
“We need to talk, not here,” he spoke softly into the crack between the frame and door. Clearly, all the listening devices were not gone.
I turned to the mirror, scowling at my smeared makeup and sighed.
"Just let me in." The door behind me vibrated from his pounding on it.
"No!" Firstly, you called me a cougar. Secondly, my kids have left me on the day my husband's funeral took place, which also happens to be the same day of my first meeting with a man who’s blackmailing me to murder someone. All of you are preying on my vulnerabilities.” My hands waved about like a maniac as I ranted. Calming down, I wiped my face clean and started reapplying the makeup.
“Evie, we need to talk about things for the mission.” He sounded sweet again.
"No," I muttered as I noticed the clock that said quarter past nine, and sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this. I need to get Vegas over with.” Instead of processing and overprocessing, I ran the brush through my hair again and eyed the finished product. I was respectable again.
I readjusted my boobs ‘cause they weren’t nineteen anymore either. At thirty-six, sometimes they got a little excited about what we were doing and ended up out of my shirt. I was pretty sure they had tried to jump in Coop’s face at one point. I touched the door and attempted to swallow some of my humiliation.
Taking a breath, I opened it and jumped back. He was standing in the doorway with his hands on either side of the doorframe, trapping me in the bathroom.
“We have half an hour before I leave and it's for sure a thirty-minute drive,” I said into his chest. I didn’t look up into his eyes.
He loomed over me, not budging. “Can we talk?”
“No.” I riveted my eyes to his tee shirt, refusing to look into his eyes.
He tilted my chin and I burst into laughter.
He frowned. “What?”
I grabbed a tissue and wiped the smears of makeup off his skin.
His eyes were cold again and his voice low, “We need to talk about that kiss, but not here.”
“It was just a kiss. I think you've kissed a lot of girls, Coop. You're pretty good at it.”
He arched his eyebrows. His eyes were suddenly sexy and not cold at all. I rolled mine and pressed on his thick chest. “You called me a cougar,” I muttered.
“Grudge holder,” he mumbled, mocking me.
I ignored him and went out to the garage and got in the car. As I started it, he jumped in the passenger side and laid the seat back.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I backed out of the garage.
“Making sure you arrive safely.” He grinned.
I backed out, checking the clock. “Great, now I'm going to be late.”
“Drive fast.”
I grumbled under my breath and punched the gas pedal. I knew how to drive. I’d learned on a racetrack like everyone else but hadn’t done it in a long time.
“So are you scared?” he asked.
“What’s your deal? Are you bipolar? You were a dick to me and then you're kissing me, and now you're being sweet—why?”
“I'm not bipolar. The kiss wasn’t just me seeing you naked and wanting to kiss you. It was also a way to catch you off guard. You need to remember that training, wherever any of this goes. If the fat man kisses you, he's going to be pissed if you freeze up like that. You're no doubt going in as a hooker.”
That truth was horrifying; it and the fact that I had enjoyed the kiss.
He continued, “You gotta be casual, convince him you're something special. You're a bit old for a hooker. Most guys who want hookers are leaning more toward that barely legal thing.”
I shot him a glare.
He put his hands up. “What? It's the t
ruth.”
“You're an asshole. I don’t look thirty-six, and even if I did, that’s not old.” My palms were sweating. I shuddered and glanced around, anywhere but at him. I was ready to strangle him, but I was doing forty over the speed limit. I needed to focus.
He laughed. “I'm not an asshole.”
I snorted.
“Okay, I’m an asshole, but I’m really trying to make you better at this. You've been hibernating for a long time. I seriously have a bad feeling about this whole thing.” His voice changed when he spoke again, “You’re sexy for thirty-six but I’m not sure you’re going to be able to do this, Evie.”
“Well, head-gaming teenager, I’m a pretend widow. This is new to me. I've been with the same person for a long time. I'm not playing a game. I'm here to save my family. I'll manage whatever I have to.”
I sensed something warm on my leg and my eyes darted downward. His hand was hovering above my thigh. “Liar.” He chuckled.
“Coop, I'm not kidding around. I’m not interested in playing games with you. I'll figure it out on the fly. Stop.”
He laughed and trailed his fingers up my leg, lifting my skirt. “What if the old fat guy touches your thigh like this?”
Tingles covered my leg. "You're going to get us killed." I nervously laughed and pressed the pedal to the floor. The car shot ahead.
He chuckled but didn’t take his hand away. Instead, he grabbed a handful of my inner thigh. I jerked.
“Wrong response, Evie.”
I bit my lip and forced myself to relax again.
My chest rose and fell rapidly.
His fingers were scorching against my thigh. The way he grabbed was rough and not expected after how lightly he had traced his fingers.
“How do you kill him?”
I was lost. My brain wouldn’t turn on. All the blood in my body sat in my tingling and pulsating underwear.
“Evie, how do you kill him?” he repeated and brushed one of his fingers brush against my upper thigh, as high as he could go. I almost took the car off the road. I swerved and shouted simultaneously, “I DON'T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW! STOP! JUST STOP!”
