The Boss

by Melissa Schroeder

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head, killing the light as he made his way to the window. He wished he had his night-vision goggles, but even without them, Vic knew. No animals. No noise.

  Fuck.

  He was already heading to his bedroom when the first alarm sounded. After stripping out of his flannel pj bottoms, he tugged on a pair of jeans and grabbed a shirt.

  “Dammit to hell,” Mac said. She reached behind her and pulled a gun from her waistband, following him into his room. “I know I didn’t have a tail.”

  “Well, one way or another, they found us. We need to get the hell out of here.”

  He opened his closet and then the hidden panel where he kept his weapons. He pulled two M16s out and threw one to Mac. She caught it with a smile and stuck her Glock in her waistband again.

  “Nice.” Even with the situation they were in, he caught the arousal in her voice. The woman had a hard-on for anything that could maim or kill.

  Another alarm sounded.

  “How much time?” she asked.

  He turned in the direction of the garage. “Five minutes at most.”

  She followed him without question. Mac was still mad at him, still pissed about the way he’d left her and the company, but she knew not to fuck around in a situation like this. She knew when to argue and when to follow orders. He threw his go bag in the backseat of the pickup and grabbed another bag of ammo. Mac was already in the passenger seat.

  The second alarm went off, and Vic knew they had less than two minutes to get their asses out of there. He could have used the bunker to hide in, but there was a good chance that if these were the Russians after Mac, they would find it.

  He started up the engine of his truck and hit the remote for the garage door. He went out behind the house, making it easier to escape anyone coming up the front. As he gunned the engine, he heard shots behind him, but paid no attention. They were still too far off to even hit the truck. Vic didn’t want to try firing back. It was better just to lose them and get somewhere safe. Maybe then they could figure this all out.

  Of course, Mac did the exact opposite. She opened the window, slipped up to the edge of the car door, and started shooting.

  “Mac, get your ass back in here.”

  She ignored him. After she fired a few shots behind them, she easily slid back into the cab of the pickup.

  “Do you ever listen?” he demanded.

  “When the advice isn’t rubbish, I listen.”

  He wanted to argue with her. Hell, he wanted to demand she listen to him and only him. He’d lost the right to that and so much more when he walked out of their office—and out of her life—months ago. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself sane.

  But his life never worked out the way he wanted it to. No matter how many plans he made, he always seemed to end up back at square one, fighting his way out. This time, though, he had his head on straight. Time away from her, away from the job, had left him with enough control that he could look at the situation rationally. All he had to do was figure out the mess they were all in and clean it up. And he had to do it before he got pulled back into the craziness of Mac and her life. He knew this time he wouldn’t survive if he went under for a third time.

  Chapter Two

  A good spy always has a backup plan. And if she doesn’t, she should die before letting anyone know she screwed up.

  —Mac Donovan

  MacKenzie Maria Donovan knew when she’d cocked up. She didn’t always like to admit it. More often than not, she would find a way out of acknowledging that she had anything to do with the mistake. She considered herself an expert at it. She’d learned firsthand how to do it with a regal air while watching her diplomat father during her time spent in hell—a.k.a. her childhood. But another thing she had learned was sometimes there was no way to avoid it.

  This was one big fubar.

  “Where am I going?” Vic asked. Barked out was more like it, but that military background was hard to avoid when dealing with her ex-lover.

  She glanced at him and tried her best not to sigh. From the moment they’d met six years earlier, she could never seem to keep her hands off him. Even tonight, with his insane backwoods beard and bloodshot eyes, Mac ached with the need to find the closest flat surface and defile him in so many ways.

  She pushed those thoughts aside, even if the idea lingered. They didn’t have time, and yearning for him would just hurt her even more. He hadn’t just broken her heart; he’d practically fractured her soul when he left. Love wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be easy. Or, at least, she thought it should be. Mac had never been sure what love was about anyway. Her parents’ marriage had been what she described as separate but equal. Her father’s second marriage was different, from what she could tell. He seemed to actually spend time with his new daughter. The longest relationship she’d ever had had been with Vic. They had spent more time apart than together, and he was still the one who got to her. It was a testament of how much he got under her skin that her mind wasn’t on the mission. She deliberately looked away.

  “We have a safe house, one not associated with the company.”

  He said nothing, so she forced herself to glance back at him. His nasty look cut her to the core. He knew what she was talking about, and from the regret in his expression, Mac knew he hated to use it. It was their secret place, the one place they had used to escape their crazy lives. She had actually gone there after their big fight, thinking he might appear. After a week, she’d realized this was the end. Now, with their time over, there was no reason to hold on to it. Besides, staying alive was more important than holding on to stupid memories.

  “Fine, but when we get there, we need to figure out how to work this all out.”

  The need to scream vibrated in her throat. It welled up out of nowhere, but it had been like this the last few months. One minute weepy, the next mad at the world. She held it inside even as her throat started to ache. A good agent always did.

  “Your brother and Millie—”

  “Millie?”

  “Millie was the package.”

  He grunted. From her vast experience with his grunts, she knew that was acceptance and moved on. “So, Rock and the rest of them are meeting us there.”

  His jaw hardened. “So you told them where it was.”

  A sharp pang of regret hit her square in the chest. The need to apologize simmered on her tongue, but she straightened her back. The days of apologizing to Victor Walker were over.

  “I had no choice. I thought maybe you didn’t want your baby brother dead—not to mention your best friend.”

  He took a turn down the road she knew would lead to Interstate 81. “I thank you for that. Although, if you hadn’t hired Jay to begin with, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  She snorted. “As if. You knew the moment you walked out of the door I’d need another body. Jay was willing to fill your shoes.”

  “Yeah? Permanently?” His tone was now flat, without any emotion, but Mac knew better. She knew that when Vic did that he was hiding what he was really feeling.

  Why was he doing this now? They had a major problem on their hands, and rehashing their screwed-up relationship wasn’t the best use of their time. She didn’t have the time, let alone the ability, to launch an argument. She was still trying to recover from their last one from six months ago.

  “Your brother is convinced you’re coming back. But then, Jay’s always been a little naive when it comes to you. I needed someone who is good at surveillance and can be trusted. Those are two things your brother is good at.”

  It was true there were times Jay’s ADHD drove her insane, but he was good at the job. He would never be someone they could send in undercover, because his mouth always got him into trouble. But for a man who could rarely sit still, he was weirdly good at monitoring the situation. He was always good at reading people. Vic had yet to accept that his brother—who was almost thirty—was mature eno
ugh for anything.

  “So, this woman?”

  “Millie Bingham.”

  She felt his glance and looked at him. His lips twitched.

  “Millie? As in Mildred?” Amusement tinged his voice.

  She shrugged.

  “Millie is going to tell us everything?” he asked.

  “Sure. She wants to stay alive.”

  A little bit of a lie, and Vic probably knew it. The girl wanted to stay alive, but Mac wasn’t too sure she trusted them enough to tell them the truth. If she were in Millie’s position, she wouldn’t, either. Hell, she would have disappeared as soon as she could, but then, she was a bitch. Millie might be some kind of super intelligent whiz, but she seemed naive in the ways of the world. As if she had existed outside of all the bad things that were happening. Until a few days ago, she probably had been.

  “Always a good motivation.”

  “Which way are you going?”

  “I’m going to head up to Winchester, then over into Pennsylvania, before I head back down into Maryland.”

  She nodded. “I can take over if you need me to drive.”

  “You can take a nap.” She frowned, and he shook his head. “I have a feeling you’ve been running on empty for the last few days. I haven’t. Take a few minutes, and get some rest. Round two will get here soon enough.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but he was right. She was tired and would do better with a few minutes of sleep.

  “There’s a pillow in the backseat.”

  She glanced back and found it easily. When she set it against the window and laid her head on it, she sighed. His scent was on it. Hell, it had taken her weeks to get it out of the sheets of their bed. She had spent hours there, with the curtains drawn and morose breakup songs playing.

  No time to think about that.

  They would get through this mess and then go their separate ways. With that sad thought, she let herself drift off to sleep.

  …

  Vic took the exit to Mount Aetna and glanced over at Mac. She was still asleep. Dead to the world. She rarely slept like this, and only after three or four days with little to no sleep. She only went into this kind of slumber around people she trusted.

  He fought the softness that always squeezed hard on his heart in times like these. From the moment he met her, Vic had seen that vulnerable side. No one else really seemed to see it, but he did. That hard shell didn’t fool him one bit. As their relationship developed, he’d discovered the terrors she had experienced firsthand. Maybe that was why both of them couldn’t seem to shake the relationship. They both knew how scarred they were and hated to give up. Or maybe they were just both assholes.

  He came to a stop at the streetlight, and Mac jolted awake.

  “What the…” She shook her head and rubbed a hand over her face. He watched as she drew in and prepared herself for battle. It didn’t matter that they were friendly—kind of. Mac always prepared for an attack.

  “Where are we?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep.

  He curled his fingers around the steering wheel and counted back from ten before he could answer.

  “We’re almost there.”

  She glanced at him. “How long have I been out?”

  “About three hours. I took the long way around. If they’re following us, they’re too good, and we should just surrender.”

  She smiled and stretched her arms over her head. He would not pay attention to the way the fabric stretched over her breasts or the little sounds she made while she worked out the kinks in her neck. Not really. Maybe. Okay, he did, and it drove him just a little insane. Six months without her, and it hadn’t changed. She didn’t seem to be having a problem being near him, but he wanted nothing more than to pull over to the side of the road and get it on like teenagers.

  Jesus, he was too old for shit like this.

  “You should have woken me, but thanks for letting me take a nap. It’s been a long few days.”

  He nodded. The light turned green, and he drove on. He understood just how it was to work on no sleep. Or, at least, he’d thought he had before now. First in the military, then in the CIA, he had learned to go without a good night’s rest, which was pretty much how he’d spent their separation. He didn’t want to tell her the only reason he drank whiskey at night was because sleeping without her was impossible. The moment his head hit the pillow, Vic found himself thinking about her, wondering how she was faring. Worse, when he did get to sleep, she was always there, until he woke up and found himself alone. He’d been a zombie for months, catching a few hours here and there, just existing.

  It only took fifteen more minutes to make it to the outskirts of the land they owned. They had bought the old farm eighteen months earlier and had spent the year following rehabbing the old house. The trees in the area showed the first signs of fall. Leaves were tinged with warm colors as a misty fog draped the area. Three acres surrounded the farmhouse, all protected by excellent security.

  “They’re probably already here,” she said.

  “How did you tell them about it?”

  “Gave them the address, then told them to ditch their phones. We have some burners now, which will be good to use while we figure this all out.”

  Mac was good at details. Even when things were falling apart, she always had some kind of plan to move forward. He assumed it was from her upbringing in British embassies around the world. She always said you had to think fast in a foreign country where they hated everything your home country stood for.

  He drove up to the house and saw one single light burning in the kitchen. It was the signal they all had used for years. Rock knew it as well. He drove around to the back of the house and parked the pickup truck. The backdoor opened before he had a chance to close the driver’s door.

  “It’s about fucking time,” Jay said, as he jogged down the steps and to the car. As always, he gave Vic a big hug. “We were worried about you.”

  “I wasn’t,” Rock said. “And since Millie doesn’t even know you, I’d say she wasn’t that worried about you.”

  He smiled at his oldest friend in the world. As with Mac, Rock looked as if he had been put through hell. “I hear you’ve had a bad time of it tonight.”

  “It’s morning, if you haven’t noticed. Sun will be up soon. Plus, it’s been a few days.”

  “You know, I’m here, too,” Mac said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jay said.

  Rock smiled and waited for her to make her way over to the stairs. His expression softened, and there was something there that sent alarm bells ringing for Vic. Before he could figure out what was going on, the look disappeared. “Been waiting. Figured you’d find him.”

  “Let’s get out of the cold,” Mac said.

  They all filed in through the back door into the kitchen. The moment they stepped into the house, he felt it there. Mac’s touch. Who would have thought a trained killer would have such good taste when it came to decor? She had insisted on stripping it down to the barest of essentials and then adding her own ideas. Gray walls, open shelving, and a kick-ass stove for him. Damn, he had forgotten how much he liked this house. But he forgot how much he enjoyed being here with Mac.

  Dammit.

  “Good God, Vic. You look like a reject from Duck Dynasty,” Jay said. “Don’t they have razors in the Shenandoah Valley? Or mirrors? Damn.”

  Rock chuckled as he glanced between the brothers. “He does this when he’s contemplating life.”

  “Get bent,” Vic said, without any heat. He was sure he looked insane, but he didn’t give a damn.

  “I’ve missed you, bro, but now that you’re here, I’m going to grab some sleep.”

  He studied his brother. Eight years separated them, but Jay was easily ten years more immature. He looked good, though. More than good. Whereas Mac looked as if she had been dealt a deathblow, Jay seemed pretty sure of the situation.

  “Don’t you want to be around when I get all the information?”
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  He shook his head. “No thanks. Not in the mood to hear you bitch.”

  And without waiting for permission, he left. Vic opened his mouth to order Jay back to the kitchen, then realized he had no right. He wasn’t the boss anymore.

  “There isn’t much more to tell. We need to go through everything, and for that, we’re going to need Millie,” Mac said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. It smelled freshly brewed. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I’m filthy from running around Vic’s forest.”

  “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  “Not mine. Unmarked, and I left it in a park-and-ride lot on 29 in Warrenton.”

  Vic tried to come up with something else to ask her, to keep her there in the kitchen with him, but he had nothing. It was a new development in their relationship. He knew there was a good chance they were going to argue. He wanted her there, by his side, and that was just stupid. Six months had passed, and he had survived without her. Barely—but he had survived.

  “Anything else?” she asked as she sipped her coffee.

  He shook his head.

  “Right. See you in a bit.”

  When she was gone, he looked at Rock. “So, do you buy the Miss Innocent thing?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Seems odd she’s mixed up in all this and has no idea what’s going on.”

  “I’m guessing she’ll tell us what’s going on, once the drugs wear off.”

  Vic nodded and set his bag on the kitchen table. “You want to tell me what’s going on between you and Mac?”

  Rock hesitated, which set more alarm bells off. Vic turned to look at him. They were like brothers, and he didn’t trust anyone more than he trusted Rock. Well, he trusted Mac more than anyone, but Rock came in a close second.

  “Why does it matter?”

  Anger and lack of sleep were a deadly combination. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Listen, man, we’ve had to depend on each other for things. You left us high and dry, and we had to pick up the pieces.”

  That much was true. Until it had happened, Vic was pretty sure none of them thought he was going to walk out. Hell, he hadn’t really been convinced it would stick this time around. It didn’t mean that he thought Rock had a right to take his place in Mac’s bed.