by Miley Maine
Also by Miley Maine
Billionaire Bosses
Baby Bump
Boss Me Forever
Pregnant with Boss's Baby
Yes Boss
His Forbidden Secret
Accidental Hook-Up
Her Protector
Bodyguard
Worth The Wait (Coming Soon)
Sinful Temptation
Love Undercover (Coming Soon)
Fake Boyfriend (Coming Soon)
Standalone
Daddy's Terms (Coming Soon)
Love Undercover
Miley Maine
Copyright © 2021 by Miley Maine
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Blurb
Kate is about to ruin my career.
She’s about to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for.
* * *
I’m a CIA secret agent.
Disciplined, ruthless, some might even say… heartless.
My target this time is a major threat to humanity.
Hundreds of lives are at risk.
Protecting my undercover identity is crucial.
But how do I keep it a secret when she comes along?
Kate works for one of the most dangerous men in the world.
My target.
The enemy.
But I have to remember that she’s not the enemy.
She’s just an innocent nanny who has no idea who I am.
She’s got no clue what she’s gotten herself involved in.
And I have a feeling that she won’t be happy when she finds out.
* * *
If fighting against crime doesn’t eventually kill me…
Losing my heart to Kate definitely will.
Chapter One
Owen
“I will need the financial forecast for the next quarter,” Robert Laurent said to me. He tapped his fingers against my desk. “By tomorrow.”
Fucker.
I rubbed my eyes. One year down. How many more to go? I put a neutral expression on my face, which wasn’t my strong suit. “I’ll have them ready today,” I said.
He tapped his fingers once more before moving away. “I am glad you always prioritize your work, Owen.”
No shit. I had no personal life here for a reason. I had no friends, no family, and no dating life. I wasn’t going to risk getting involved with a woman here, when I knew I’d be leaving. Hopefully, sooner rather than later. But I couldn’t complain.
I was the one who’d jumped at the chance to go after this bastard. I was the one who agreed to pose undercover as an accountant. I knew going in I was looking at a lot of dull, repetitive office work. Which was exactly the reason I’d never wanted a desk job.
My last undercover job? I’d posed as a heroin dealer. That was more my speed, but I majored in forensic accounting, and for fun, got a minor in finance. Which led to me being able to impersonate a corporate accountant, all so I could crunch numbers for a French criminal who’d made his new home in Santiago.
Restless energy consumed me. I stood and paced back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. At least the view was good. The skyline was all mountains, a sharp contrast against the shiny line of highrises.
When I was working undercover as a heroin addict, I had a view of a shitty hovel in Rio, and I’d spent six months wearing grimy clothes and sleeping in a bug-infested bed. At least now I wore a suit every day. Laurent had even handed me a fancy apartment on a silver platter.
I forced myself back to my computer. I still had several hours’ worth of analysis to do.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Laurent said. “I would like for you to join us tomorrow night for dinner at our villa. My wife made the suggestion.”
This type of invitation was what I’d been waiting on. If Laurent was anything like the other thugs I’d known, him inviting me to his home meant he trusted me, at least a little. He might not have looked like a thug or sounded like one, but at heart, he was a vile, piece-of-shit thug.
I sighed. I really had to clean up my language. It had gotten way too rough in Rio, and now I was going to be around his wife and kid.
“Sounds great,” I responded.
“I will send a car for you. Be ready at seven p.m.”
When civilians think about CIA jobs, they imagine excitement and danger. And those things happen for field agents, sometimes a lot. But not all the time.
Some of the work was dull. Like piecing together all the connections between a crime boss, and his underlings, which was what I was doing right now.
Over a year ago, the CIA had identified Laurent as a suspect. And not just any old suspect. A suspect who was potentially involved in a terrorist plot that could cause large-scale damage to any city or town.
I’d been quick to volunteer for the job. And as I worked in Santiago as Laurent’s accountant, I’d gained his acceptance, if not his trust. And in that time, I’d learned that Laurent wasn’t a terrorist, at least not directly. He didn’t believe in any cause. He didn’t really care about hurting anyone or making anyone pay. He didn’t even want revenge. He just wanted to line his wallet. And he was willing to do that in one of the most fucked-up ways imaginable.
He was planning to sell some chemical weapons to the highest bidder.
Chemical weapons that would kill thousands of people. All because he wanted even more money than he already had.
I hated him as much as I’d ever hated anyone, and I bet I’d met some real scum in my work.
So, in the effort to pin Laurent down for his crimes, I needed some backup, beyond the local assets I’d gotten to know and rely upon. Every now and then, I needed contact with someone who was a part of my real life, and not part of the fake one I’d constructed.
There was one other CIA agent in Santiago that I knew of, and he was working on a diff
erent case. We served as a sort of informal backup system for each other. He knew most of the details in my case, and the nature of his assignment meant he could do background checks and research without worrying about getting murdered for it. I had permission from my supervisor to lean on him when I needed his help, as long as it wasn’t excessive. So far, he hadn’t needed my help, but that could change.
I hadn’t talked to him in six weeks, so it was about time to check in.
When I needed to contact him, I always made use of a cell phone I kept in a safe at the bank. I sure couldn’t have a burner phone in my apartment, in case Laurent ever sent someone to snoop through it. And I certainly couldn't carry it around with me, because when I first started working for Laurent, one of his henchmen had searched me every time I walked in the office building.
That had stopped, but Laurent didn’t really trust anyone, not completely.
I was meeting the other agent today, at the bus stop for one of those tourist rides. Cliche, right? I didn’t give a fuck at this point. We would wait in line for the tour to Valparaíso, shuffling along with the crowds who were ready for their ten-hour day. I’d even brought a backpack so I’d blend in with all the people messing with their tubes of sunscreen and refillable water bottles.
I didn’t even know the other agent’s real name. The name he’d given me was Jack. Just Jack, no last name. Of course, Owen Baxley wasn’t my name either. Even my supervisor used Owen right now, just in case someone was listening to our phone conversations.
I’d met him before, but he’d be blending in too, playing the role of wide-eyed visitor from Liverpool.
There he was. I slid into the line next to him, right behind an older couple who seemed to have about ten grandchildren tagging along with them.
“What’s up?” he said.
“I’m probably going to need some digging soon,” I replied.
“I’m all ears,” he told me, popping a piece of gum into his mouth.
“I’m going to the target’s house for dinner tomorrow night,” I said, fiddling with my backpack straps and adjusting my hat. All the people in line were so fidgety. If we stared straight ahead and spoke, we’d stand out. “So I’ll either come back with a list of names to research, or I’ll end up at the bottom of the ocean.”
He put a pair of cheap sunglasses on. They had little Peruvian flags all over them.“So, if I don’t hear from you in a week, should I assume the worst?” he asked.
“Yep.” We were joking, but we both knew someone taking me out was a real possibility. It was part of the job when you were undercover. I knew that, and I accepted it.
Now I just had to get focused, and find out as much as I could tomorrow night at Laurent’s house.
Chapter Two
Kate
“What do you think about the flamingos? Are they pretty?” I asked Gabriel as I crouched by his stroller. I felt a little odd speaking so formally to a ten-month-old sometimes, but I knew it was good for him.
Gabriel pointed at the flamingos. “Buh,” he said.
“Yes, they’re birds.” I unbuckled the straps and pulled him into my arms, holding him so he could see them clearly. I wasn’t just a nanny to baby Gabriel, he was supposed to learn immersive English from me too. I had no training in teaching English, but his parents had assured me that I was only required to speak normally to him, and he’d pick it up.
However, they preferred me not to use any slang, which was harder than it sounded.
I wasn’t sure how much he understood, but he seemed to enjoy our walks through Bicentenario Park. The weather today was a perfect seventy-five degrees.
“Okay, time for us to go,” I said.
He waved at the flamingos. “Buh.”
“Yes, that’s right. Say bye to the birds.” We usually lingered at the park, and sometimes even toured the zoo if he’d had a good nap, but tonight I was supposed to attend a dinner with Mr. Laurent’s clients and some of his employees. He and Mrs. Laurent wanted Gabriel to attend, which meant I’d be there too.
Behind us, our driver and bodyguard, Mateo, stood a few feet away. I still marveled at having someone whose job was just to drive me and Gabriel around. In the town where I’d grown up, no one had a driver. Most of us were lucky to even own a car. I felt bad asking Mateo to take us all over the city, but he assured me that his first job was watching out for Gabriel, and if the location was safe, then he’d be happy to take us.
So, I felt a tiny bit guilty, but not enough to stay home. Santiago was a vibrant city, and I wanted to take advantage of going out. Plus, Garbiel seemed to love getting out as much as I did. He often clapped his hands together when we got into the car.
I hugged him tight and resisted the urge to baby talk. “We have to get back home, little buddy. Your mom is going to be waiting for us.”
He knocked his head into my neck and gurgled as I patted him on the back. He needed a nap, and I had to take a shower. Apparently this dinner would be dressy, and even though I was a little nervous about eating with the Laurents and their guests, I was looking forward to having some adult interaction. Usually the Laurents went out for dinner, or if Mr. Laurent wasn’t home, Mrs. Laurent didn’t come to the dining room.
The chef always made dinner for me and Gabriel, and sometimes he joined us to eat, and sometimes I could convince Amelia, the housekeeper to join us, too. Gabriel loved to socialize, and he ended up getting most of the attention during dinner. If we all ate together, Amelia spoke English to Gabriel, and the chef let me practice my Spanish with him.
By the time we arrived back at the villa, Gabriel was sound asleep and I put him in his crib. As I was leaving his room, Mrs. Laurent appeared in the hallway.
As usual, she was stunning. She was one of those people who always looked polished, whether she was in a cocktail dress or her pajamas. Not that she wore any ordinary pajamas; she wore silky nightgowns. When I’d started working for the Laurents, she’d made me pack away my University t-shirts and my old pajama pants with llamas on them, and she’d bought me pretty cotton pajamas. They weren’t slinky or revealing – in fact, if I’d been back home in Alabama, I could have worn them out and no one would have noticed they weren’t regular clothes.
“Hello, Kate,” she said. Her accent was beautiful. I loved listening to her talk.
“Hello, Mrs. Laurent,”
“How was your time with Gabriel?”
“It was really good. He loved the park as usual, and waved at the flamingos over and over.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “I’m pleased that you are always providing stimulating experiences for him.” She glanced at my hair. “Once you’ve showered, I have some lovely dresses for you to try on for dinner tonight. You may choose the one you prefer.”
She followed me into my room, where she’d laid out four party dresses on my bed. Wow. These were way nicer than my prom dress had been, all for a dinner at home. One was red, one was teal, one was black. The other was a shimmery champagne color.
“I will leave you to choose a dress. When you have chosen, hang the rest in the closet. When you are dressed, choose a pair of dressy sandals from your closet. Then come to my room. I have someone to do your hair and makeup.”
Okay. First a party dress, now I was getting my hair and makeup done for a party at the house.
“Thank you, Mrs. Laurent,” I said, and she was gone, leaving me staring at the pile of fabric on my bed.
She was only around thirty-four or five, and she didn’t really seem older, but she was remote, and far away. She didn’t treat any of us as if she thought she was better than us, but there was an odd separation with her, unlike with Mr. Laurent. He was pleasant, but all business.
Maybe it was because she was so insanely rich. I’d never spent time around rich people. Sure, there were wealthy students at the University of Alabama, but most of them weren’t in my social work classes. And by wealthy, I meant they had a BMW or a Mercedes, and their parents had a big house in Mountain Brook, Ala
bama, or Madison, Mississippi, and they took a trip to Park City, Utah to ski every Christmas. None of them were rich like the Laurents. None of them had their own staff that lived in their house, or owned their own plane, or had homes in multiple countries.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo of all the dresses. Not that I had many people to share it with. My friends were not impressed with the Laurents’ lavish lifestyle.
Some of them balked when I texted to tell them how things were in the Laurent household.
“You’re like her grown-up doll!” one of my friends had texted, in all caps.
My other friends just laughed, and teased me about being a “servant”.
“So much for being a strong, independent woman, another friend wrote. They’ve got you on a diamond leash.”
My best friend Sarah, a fellow social worker was outraged that I’d taken the job. “There’s nothing wrong with working for a wealthy person,” I’d insisted.
“Right. You spent four years speaking about social justice, and now you’re raising someone’s child because his parents can’t be bothered,” Sarah said over a video call one night. “He’s probably a drug dealer!”
“He’s not a drug dealer!” I’d hissed, trying not to yell. Was I a hypocrite? There was some truth to it, I supposed. I wanted to travel. I wanted to see the world. And I wanted to be a social worker. But until I got my student loans paid off, and helped my sister with her bills, those things couldn’t happen.
