Undercover Lover

by Tibby Armstrong

  From one room to the next she flitted, unable to land anywhere for more than a moment. Somehow, the luxurious space only seemed to underscore her agitation. Thinking to ensconce herself in her bedroom—a space she’d chosen for its more human scale—she only paced out again a minute later. This wasn’t her home and never would be.

  Only one activity could subdue the energy vibrating her system. She’d go to dance class. She hadn’t been in ages. Resolute, she pulled the mass of her hair into a flirty ponytail as she re-entered her bedroom. Taking out her makeup case, she selected the most daring shades. Dark liner emphasized the upward tilt of her eyes, giving them a depth and mystery she didn’t dare display at work. Blue-black mascara lengthened already thick lashes—what she considered her best feature, and the only physical similarity she had to David. Smoky shadow and a hint of glitter in her blush complemented the shimmer on her lips. By the time the racy pink leotard hugged her skin, she felt freer, lighter.

  If her office mates could see her now…

  Coloring at remembrance of their cruelty—their ability to so thoroughly eviscerate her sense of self with their barbed words—she firmly pushed them out of her mind. Tonight was for her. About her. Nobody else.

  Pulling on her trench coat, she covered her racy ensemble before grabbing her dance shoes and stuffing them in her purse. Security wouldn’t be a problem. The front desk didn’t know she was supposed to have a personal guard 24/7, but David’s firm would give her hell if they found out. For just one night, she wanted to be alone. Be normal again.

  She set the alarm as she left the apartment and stepped into the dark hallway. Someone had shut off the light, leaving only the red glow of the exit sign to guide her to the elevator. Glass crunched underfoot and she hesitated. How odd. Double punching the elevator button, she frowned as the scent of cheap cologne assaulted her nostrils.

  “Snitch,” a voice whispered in her ear, and she screamed.

  Chapter Two

  “You’ve got a lot of balls, Tallis.” Günter Faust glared at the cell phone in his hand. Its soft glow simultaneously illuminated the dark bedroom and showed him the time—ten p.m.—but it wasn’t the lateness of the hour or overtime-induced sleep deprivation that had him cursing his über-famous ex-boss.

  “I didn’t know who else to call.” The note of desperation in David’s voice gave Günter pause. Well, this was a first. The man never bent his knee for anyone, except possibly his girlfriend.

  Günter rasped his palm over the stubble on his cheek. “What do you want?”

  “It’s Jenny. Someone vandalized the entry outside my flat.”

  Jenny Ainsley…

  At the mention of Tallis’ little sister, the ice shield around Günter’s heart fractured. Somehow, he managed to keep his voice steady, his demeanor sharp as he asked, “And this has something to do with me how?”

  He heard the tip-tap of David’s shoes pacing marble floors, no doubt in some rock star suite at the Ritz. Or Savoy. Wherever it was, it’d be top-notch. With all the security and seclusion money could buy. If Günter were a better person, he knew he wouldn’t have enjoyed the sharp inhale that told him David was about to beg some more.

  “Gun, you’re right there, one floor away from her. I’m halfway around the world. You have to help her.”

  “Wait. What? She’s staying in your flat?” he asked, finally comprehending the situation.

  A memory of chestnut curls and laughing brown eyes teased him, unleashing a trickle of desire. He swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed and came halfway to standing before stomping on his self-indulgent emotions. The last thing he needed was another babysitting job. Especially from Tallis.

  “I insisted.” David exhaled. “There have been threats.”

  “Since when?” Günter snapped on the light. The blackout drape-shrouded room, high above the New York City traffic, gave no indication of the likely NYPD-fomented mayhem one floor above or twenty-two stories below.

  “Since the Voice and Vibe interview,” Tallis mumbled.

  “You bloody idiot.” The insult flew from Günter’s mouth and he could feel his former employer’s wince. This was exactly the situation he’d feared when the man had decided to let his journalist girlfriend publish the story of his family’s past. “I told you I couldn’t guarantee all your father’s associates were dead.”

  Günter had warned him. Repeatedly. Even if every last crime-ring crony of Tallis’ long-dead father had gone toes-up, there were crackpots aplenty who’d want to teach Tallis a lesson. Just on principle.

  “I know. I should have listened. Kyra’s completely broken up over it and—”

  “Save the song and dance for your fans.” Curling his toes into the carpet, Günter stared at the floor and frowned. He had no use for clients who undermined him—clients who lied to him. His job was hard enough without them putting their own lives in jeopardy.

  “Gun, Jenny needs you. I need you.”

  “You’re a big boy. You’ll think of something.”

  Even if the prospective job wasn’t a woman, Günter would have refused this request—any request—from David Tallis. That it was this woman? Well, to accept working within ten feet of her again was liable to get them both in over their heads before he could say gossip rag.

  “If they came after my sister because you missed something, you owe it to me to make it right.”

  It was Tallis’ last-ditch effort to appeal to Günter’s pride—one they both knew wouldn’t work. What he required from everyone in his life was simple—honesty—and he refused to work without the trust it afforded. He straightened and raked his hair back from his face.

  “The only thing I owe you is a punch in the mouth,” he answered, more weary than angry.

  There was a time he wouldn’t have dreamed of saying anything so rude to David—a time when he’d have protected him with his life. That time had passed when the man had colluded with his manager to let loose a press maelstrom that had nearly brought an innocent woman down. That the woman had ultimately forgiven him was inconsequential.

  “If I’d known your specialty was loose ends, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place,” Tallis said at last.

  Bile rose in Günter’s throat on a wave of fury. The only loose ends in his work for Tallis were the ones the bastard had untied himself.

  “With all respect, sir? Fuck you.”

  Günter hung up the phone, wishing it had been an old-fashioned handset. He really could have used something to slam. The cell started to buzz again almost immediately. He powered it off and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Curling his lip, he switched off the lamp and sank under the covers. He was drifting off, memories of Jenny Ainsley safely tucked away, when his doorbell chimed. It could only mean one thing.

  “Bugger.” He flung back the covers.

  Not bothering to put on clothes, he strode across the apartment to the front door and yanked it open without looking through the peephole. As he suspected, one of the security staff from the building lobby stood with a cell phone in his outstretched hand. Günter snatched it from him and slammed the door in his face.

  “I’ll double your salary,” David pleaded.

  “No.”

  Günter shook his head to clear the memory of a lush body swaying, more than a little tipsy, in his arms. Lord, it had to have been what? Five years ago? Six? When Tallis hired him to gather surveillance on Jenny while she was studying at NYU? The memory sprang back to him, fresh and unbidden—her skin soft under his fingertips when he brushed an errant curl from her face. He’d spoken with her only once, though he’d secretly watched over her—an otherwise unseen guardian—for half a decade.

  “You’re the only one I can trust with her. You’re the only one who really knows her—maybe better than I do.” David broke into Günter’s thoughts.

  “Piss off, Tallis.” Günter paced the foyer, shoulders hunched, bare feet slapping against the cold tile.

  She’d smelled like a surreal co
mbination of roses and fresh-fallen snow when he’d sidled up next to her in that college bar, intent on saving her from the free-roaming hands of some shitfaced jock. Telling himself he was only doing the job Tallis had hired him to do, he’d asked her to dance. She’d been in his arms for ten minutes, tops, but she’d been in his dreams ever since.

  “Gun, please.” David’s desperation bled through the phone.

  “No,” Günter said through clenched teeth.

  “I’ll do anything. This is all my fault.”

  All my fault.

  David’s admission echoed in Günter’s head, conjuring another pair of brown eyes. Another city. Another lifetime. He paused mid-stride and pivoted toward the bedroom.

  “Fine.” He didn’t know what made him say it.

  “Thank God.” David breathed the benediction, his relief palpable.

  What the fuck was he doing? This couldn’t end well.

  “Tallis?” Günter’s voice sounded a low warning.

  “Yes?”

  “The shit you and your manager pulled? The leaks to the press? The lies? If it happens again?” He paused for emphasis, then let loose his promise, “I’ll erase you myself.”

  “I’ll hand you the knife,” David agreed, and Günter heard the truth.

  “Damn right.” He tapped the end call button before going in search of his trousers and his piece. Which item was more for Jenny’s protection he couldn’t have said, but he knew better than to walk into this situation without either.

  * * * * *

  “And you didn’t see anyone? Hear anything at all?”

  “No.” Jenny’s answer, delivered with a shake of her tousled curls, made the investigator blow out a frustrated breath.

  Günter leaned a shoulder against a marble pillar framing Tallis’ two-story living room and took in the scene with a practiced eye. A black winter jacket rested over the arm of the couch. Gold letters D, E and…was that an A?…emblazoned on the fabric made his eyes widen. How had the situation catapulted from vandalism to drug investigation?

  Jenny sat in an occasional chair, chin raised, fingers clutching the arms. She wore a pink, fuzzy v-neck sweater, which cradled her high, firm breasts. Jeans and high-heeled boots completed the casual ensemble. Not a scuff or smudge in sight.

  “Did the…” The agent looked behind him. “Wilsons see anyone?”

  From his vantage point Günter could see Tallis’ elderly neighbors in the hall with the NYPD officers, but knew Jenny couldn’t see around the agent. He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.

  “You’d have to ask them.” Jenny’s shrug exhibited a nonchalance she couldn’t possibly feel under the circumstances.

  Günter frowned. Why wouldn’t she answer the questions? Something about the DEA special agent had her on edge. Or was it just the fact he was law enforcement and she was hiding something?

  Jenny curled her fingers into her palms and Günter caught her wince. A slice of red alongside a blooming bruise marred the creamy skin over one knuckle. His gaze narrowed. She’d been in a fight.

  The agent studied her closely, the cold steel of his eyes beneath the blackness of his lowered brows appearing alien and reptilian. “Could you identify the vandals from a sketch or a mug shot?”

  Günter quirked a brow at the trick question. If she hadn’t seen them, she couldn’t identify the perp from a mug shot. If she said yes, she’d been lying all along. Surely a smart woman like Jenny would see through such a ruse.

  Jenny drew herself up and prepared to give the agent a tongue lashing in the half-American, half-Brit cadence Günter had always found so endearing.

  “I told you—”

  “You told us nothing.” The agent took a plastic baggie from the table behind him. “Which leaves us with you. And this.”

  The baggie held a white granular substance.

  Drugs… Bengal?

  Günter’s mouth went dry. If she was involved in that shit, Tallis had a problem on his hands not even he could fix.

  “What’s that? Sugar? You want me to make tea?”

  Günter closed his eyes and sighed. Her snark wouldn’t win her any points here.

  “You know what I think happened?” the agent asked, clenching the bag in his fist.

  Jenny crossed her arms. “Please. Enlighten me.”

  “You opened the door for your dealer. Thought perhaps as David Tallis’ little sister you were entitled to a freebie. And the hallway? That was him exacting his payment.”

  “What?” Jenny shot to her feet.

  Shock coursed through Günter. His angel? A drug addict? Surely he’d have seen it before now. Or had his judgment been too clouded with lust to notice the signs? He cursed himself silently as the agent stepped back and called for one of his men.

  “Yes sir?” The man strode into the living room with an air of arrogant bravado that labeled him a green recruit.

  “Did we get a warrant?”

  “A warrant?” Jenny’s voice went up an octave.

  Günter balled his fists against the urge to grab her. Push up her sleeves and examine her skin for track lines.

  “No sir. The judge said the drugs weren’t on the premises. We don’t have cause.”

  The agent glared at his man and tossed the bag at him. Without missing a beat, he whirled on Günter. “And who the hell are you?”

  Past ready to make his presence known, Günter pushed away from the pillar. “I’m Günter Faust. Miss Ainsley’s security detail.”

  Jenny turned to look up…and up…until she saw broad shoulders and a wave of hair so perfectly golden, she knew if she ran her fingers through the shoulder-length strands they would come away soaked with sunshine. He was the first breath of air she’d had since the Wilsons had rung the bell, and she savored both the reprieve and the man.

  “Where were you tonight?” The agent glared at Jenny. “Not protecting her unless you’re crap at your job.”

  “Mr. Tallis brought me in on this ’bout half an hour ago.” Günter’s accent caressed her ear with an earthy English lilt.

  Focused on his voice, at first she missed his words. A beat later, when they registered, a prickly sweat broke out at the back of her knees. “Wait. My brother knows what happened?”

  “I’m sure he pays to know,” the agent answered dryly.

  She was so screwed.

  Jenny faced the new man her brother had so thoughtfully thrust into her life. If only the Wilsons hadn’t reported the incident, she could have cleared it all up herself with no one the wiser—replaced the lamp, vacuumed the floor. It would’ve been like nothing ever happened. The press never need have known. She groaned inwardly at the thought of the barrage of questions facing her the next time she left the building.

  Tilting her head to glare at the hired muscle—emphasis on muscle—she asked, “What’s wrong with the DEA or NYPD?”

  Günter’s eyes met hers for the first time and Jenny almost forgot she was this close to getting busted for drug possession and heaven only knew what else. She’d never really seen blue until she’d seen those eyes.

  “Later,” he said.

  She inserted herself between him and the agent. “I’d like answers now, thanks.”

  He placed palms on shoulders she’d never considered tiny until this moment and gently moved her to one side. She stared at a broad chest stretching a white golf shirt that seemed two sizes too small, and had an inexplicable sense of déjà vu. Had they met before? Leaning her hip against the arm of the chair, she jammed her hands in her pockets. Fine. She’d wait out this little fraternity meeting.

  “Mr. Tallis would appreciate your passing along anything you’ve found,” Günter said to the agent. It wasn’t really a request, so much as an order, and they all knew it.

  The agent almost seemed to deflate. “Well, to be honest, that hasn’t been much.”

  “I told y—” Jenny started.

  Günter held up a hand and for some unfathomable reason her m
outh snapped shut. No wonder her brother got on with him. They were cut from the same cloth.

  “Nothing on the security feed, then?” Günter asked.

  Jenny’s stomach lurched. She hadn’t thought of surveillance footage.

  “The tapes were tampered with,” the agent answered smoothly.

  A chill went up her spine despite the good news. If someone was tampering with the tapes then this was no garden-variety assault. Her attacker had meant business. If David or the press found out this wasn’t a simple incident of vandalism, she’d have more explaining to do than she cared to contemplate.

  Running sweat-slicked hands down her jeans, she stood. “I need some air.”

  “I’m interested in having a copy anyway,” Günter replied, then snapped his fingers at her and pointed to a chair. “Stay right there.”

  Rage mottled her vision. Who the hell did he think he was? Her father?

  A picture of her biological parent—gritty and sweat-streaked, his scent sour after he’d given some loan dodger a beating—raced into her brain, searing it like a touch from a red-hot poker. She hadn’t thought so clearly of that bastard in so long that her legs simply gave out and she fell into the plush, white leather armchair Günter indicated.

  “We need your credentials first,” the agent said.

  “My associate will send them. We’ll let you know anything else Miss Ainsley remembers in return.”

  “Ms.,” Jenny gritted in a way that belied the sick feeling in her stomach.

  Günter, whose thumbs were already a blur against the backdrop of his cell, glanced at her, one white-blond brow arched toward his hairline as if to say, Your wishes aren’t my command.

  The agent withdrew a business card from his wallet and slapped it onto the side table. Distracting herself from the battle of wills she wasn’t sure she’d win, Jenny picked up the card and ran her fingers over the ornate, raised DEA. The paper felt heavy. Thick. The seal glinted, metallic in the white light from the occasional lamp as Günter plucked it from her hand.