by Brynne Asher
She’d lose but I’d still enjoy it. I always have.
I answer honestly because you never know when you might be hooked up to a polygraph. “Her last name is mine on the paperwork, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, it is. I’ll speak to my manager and I’m sure she’ll make an exception. For the next twelve hours, Isabella is mine. I promise to take good care of her.”
I don’t argue that she’s wrong. Bella will always be mine and has been from the start. “I appreciate it.”
Bella
Oxygen.
My lungs are begging for it.
Who knew breathing could be such an arduous task?
I’ve never felt heavier. Like the world is sitting on my chest and I’ve lost all control.
I’m surrounded by death. This room reeks of it. Or something close to it, which is fitting since it’s how I feel.
I try to move or shift or stretch but it’s impossible. Then, like a freight train … it hits me. Why I’m here—how I got here.
And I cannot be here.
Vega’s man Jarvis was in a squeeze that he didn’t know was coming. My contact got word to me when my flight landed in Washington. I’d been poking around and he knew I’d pay for the information, which I did. It got ugly and I’m sure I’ll own the even uglier scar as a souvenir from my first trip out of the Middle East since I was forced to go dark.
I was supposed to be in and out of the country in less than a day on a completely separate matter. One that was risky but nothing more than what I normally pull off on any random Wednesday morning.
Okay, fine. It was more. On the importance scale, it was off the bloody charts. So much so, I was willing to set foot into the western world for the first time in years.
No one plans to catch a bullet and this couldn’t have happened at a more inopportune time or place.
“You’re awake.”
What little breath I’ve managed freezes in my lungs as memories hit me hard.
No.
It can’t be.
I’m not sure how much worse this can get, but that deep voice cutting through my groggy state makes it really, really bad.
I could pick that voice out of a crowd cheering on the World Cup. It’s the same one that caresses my dreams and plagues me in consciousness—both in equal measures.
I can’t help myself. I drag my eyes open and angle them toward the nightmare sitting a meter from me.
He’s no dream and I don’t think I’m hallucinating from the good stuff they’re surely pumping through my veins. I’d definitely be feeling like a crock after taking one to the belly if I weren’t medically snockered.
There he is, in the flesh. As red, white, and blue as Abe-fucking-Lincoln, only he’s not wearing the ridiculous top hat. He’s sporting one of those ball caps Americans like so much. It’s turned to the back, giving me full access to his eyes that are burning into mine, reminding me of everything I’ve tried to wipe from my brain.
Which only reminds me of all the reasons why I’ve tried to forget him, which, in turn, only reminds me why I shouldn’t bloody be here.
Right now, my list of troubles is so long, the man sitting at my side is at the bottom of it.
Cole Carson.
My everything and my heaviest burden. The one who torments me and who I can’t shake despite my brain warring with the stupid organ that always comes out the victor.
Stupid, stupid heart.
If I could dropkick it, I would.
He stands, towering over my bed, and picks up a cup as his voice fills my sterile space. “You’ve been through it. A bullet lodged next to your spinal cord. Internal bleeding. Two surgeries. You’ve been out for almost two days.”
I try to swallow but my tongue might as well be sandpaper. I squeeze my eyes shut, and not only because the dim light burns like the pit of hell, but it also hurts to look at him. When his touch hits my lips with the ice chip he drags across them, I wince. It’s been too long since I’ve had his touch.
The melting water drips over my cracked skin and feels so good, I want more. I snake my tongue out for more relief. It’s as refreshing as a spring, helping me swallow over my raw throat. But I also crave his touch.
“I need…” I hardly recognize my own voice. Not that it matters since he doesn’t allow me to speak.
“Shh,” he hushes and not gently, either. “I know exactly what you need and it’s taken care of. While we’re alone, I’ll explain how this is going to go. Everyone here thinks you’re my wife. Records have been changed and a new ID, passport, and VISA are on their way. Once you regain some strength, we’re going to get this shit straightened out once and for all. I’m done fucking around, Bella.”
Cole. It doesn’t matter if I’m lying here stitched up from a gaping hole. He has no subtle or sympathetic or sensitive bone in his Adonis frame.
Leave it to me to hook a chump made solely of muscle and brazen cheekiness.
My mum would have words for me.
“Sleep,” he demands as if he rules the world. Okay, fine. He might have a heavy hand in some realms, but not with me. He never did. “You need your strength so you can sit up and eat. You’re wasting away before my eyes—I don’t like it.”
I clear my dry throat. “God forbid you dislike something.”
“There’s a lot not to like right now, baby. No one can change that but you.”
“Go away,” I mumble. It feels like a brick building is taking a nap on my chest.
He tsks me and shakes his head. “That’s no way to talk to your husband.”
Husband.
I should never have chanced this trip, no matter why. The stakes are too high. I should have left well enough alone. So what if I live in Pakistan with an occasional holiday to Kuwait? It could be worse.
I could be in prison.
I don’t care how much I struggle, I lift my heavy lids. The beautiful arsehole is smiling down at me and I have a feeling it’s because he finally has me right where he wants me. He knows I can’t do a damn thing about it.
“And you thought I never wanted to settle down. Isabella Carson.” My name mated with his drips off his lips like honey. So sweet it’s sticky, in a way that promises to be delicious yet messy as hell. He tips his head and his tongue sneaks out—it’s tasted every spot of my body—lapping his bottom lip I was once obsessed with. “Fucking kills me to see you like this but I could get used to having you in the country. In fact, I already am. And if you think I’m going to let that change anytime soon, you’re crazier than I gave you credit for.”
Exhaustion is eating me alive. Any other day or in any other situation, I wouldn’t allow him this song and dance. No one can put Cole Carson in his place like I can. Even he’s admitted it. But I’m no match for him in my condition.
I start to drift and his tone turns to a mumble. “Who knew it would come to this to get you back, sweetness.”
Cole is as cracked as ever.
One can’t be back if they were never there to begin with.
Chapter 2
A Wager
Five days later
Cole
When you spend a majority of your career working clandestine operations for the CIA and traveling the world, downtime is a hot and rare commodity. Even after I benched myself at a desk job at Langley because life took a turn, I was still busy as hell, but for other reasons. Back then, I was always searching for my next high—a high I could only seem to find working as an operative.
Well, that and a certain MI6 blonde who’s currently pissing me off and making me hard, all at the same time.
Long story short, I don’t have time to sit and do nothing. Fucking ever.
Aside from running home to shower a couple times, I’ve been at the hospital since Bella got out of surgery. I followed her from recovery to ICU and about did myself in when she was rushed back into the OR because of internal bleeding. Back to recovery, ICU—a-fucking-gain—and, finally here, to a private room where the oxygen is stagnant
.
And it has not one thing to do with the lack of fresh air.
I almost lost my shit for the umpteenth time when I walked in to see one of Crew Vega’s top soldiers sitting next to her as she slept. Outside of her doctors and nurses—who’ve gone through my extensive background checks—Jarvis is the only other person who’s seen her. He got in when she was still in ICU where no one was allowed. The only reason I held it together was because Jarvis announced he’s “Team Spice Girl all the way.”
He’s one of the best, if not the cream of Crew Vega’s crop. And since I have no idea what the future will whack us in the knees with, I added that motherfucker to my speed dial. I know for a fact there’s not much he won’t do.
When I met Isabella Donnelly years ago, she was as tough as she is today. But when we were alone, she was different. She was funny. She was soft. And she was sexy as fuck when she’d melt under my touch. We would fuel each other until we lit up the night—at least when we could find time between assignments, or hell, sometimes during one. Those might’ve been the best since she and I get off on the same high.
Being a spy isn’t for the faint at heart—especially for the brute American and the beautiful, cunning Brit.
It’s been too long since I’ve seen her. Months ago, I engineered an unnecessary trip to the Middle East. It was my last of many attempts to get her to quit and allow me to finally do what was needed to get her out of her bind. My plan was to do what I’m doing now—create her a new identity. It would mean putting herself out to pasture like I had to do. It went against everything I am to work at a desk job, but I did it because it was the right thing to do and she could too, if it were important enough to her.
If I were important enough to her.
But because we are who we are, and like all my failed attempts before, I crashed and burned.
She’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted and I can’t tame her. I’ve tried everything. She thinks she’s got something to prove to the world.
She does have something to prove to the intelligence community, but it’s not how she can take down any man who dares come at her or how resourceful she’s proven to be. She’s got something bigger to worry about and it has everything to do with her freedom.
Then she snuck back into the western world, got blown to pieces, and they almost weren’t able to put her back together again.
I swore I was done. I’ve been a glutton for punishment too long.
But here I am—back for more.
For the first twenty-four hours I sat and stared at her, I was pissed. Pissed at her, pissed at the world, and pissed at myself because I can’t let this shit go and move on like a grown-ass man. I have every reason to step back and focus on my life here.
But the longer I’ve sat in this damn room, my anger has only multiplied … at myself. Because quitting Isabella Donnelley has proven impossible.
Over the past few days, I’ve taken every advantage of the situation. I’m not even sorry that it includes her barely being able to stand up straight or her not able to communicate outside of these four walls.
What I’ve done might lean toward disturbing. This is me and I have no boundaries. But that doesn’t mean I’m not paying for it.
And I’m learning when it comes to Bella Donnelly, the price for doing disturbing shit is steep.
“Mrs. Carson, here are your discharge papers with directions for recovery. Your husband has your prescriptions.”
For the millionth time since Bella became alert, she throws me a glare when the nurse addresses her as Mrs. Carson. I give zero fucks as to how she feels about her new alias.
She might be irritated but she’s not stupid and looks to the nurse. “He’s my soon-to-be ex. I appreciate all you’ve done for me. You’ve been lovely and I’ll never forget you.”
The nurse’s eyes widen and dart to me but I shake my head and try to reassure the older woman who’s been assigned to Bella. “She has a sensitivity to artificial food coloring and gets this way when she eats too much red Jell-O. It’ll work through her system with the stool softeners. No one is getting divorced.”
Bella’s blue eyes ice over and I see that fire inside her flicker. “I do not have a sensitivity to anything. I could eat a unicorn laced with pesticides and still kick your arse to kingdom come.”
I’m pretty sure a lazy smile settles on my lips—one only she can put there. I look to the nurse and shrug. “See? Once she gets back on an organic diet, she’ll be fine.”
“An orderly will be in shortly to wheel you out.” The nurse drops the papers on the table and is gone in a flash.
The door barely hits the nurse in the ass when Bella turns, standing as straight as she can. “I’ve made arrangements. Crew is on his way. While your constant supervision has been thoroughly irritating, I have to admit, I appreciate the alias. Being extradited to England is not on my bucket list.”
I gloss over her talk of extradition as well as her shitty thanks for taking care of her. “Vega is on his way?”
She turns again and throws what little clothes I brought her into my duffle. “Yes. I spoke to him this morning while you were in the loo. He said he and his wife have a spare bed for me and I am welcome to recuperate there until I can get on my feet to do what I came here to do.”
“You’re not going anywhere with Vega,” I grit. “And you know better than to use a landline.”
“Do you really think after all I’ve been through, I would risk communicating with anyone that would alert authorities? Please, Cole. Give me a shred of credit. I know how to communicate safely. Not to mention, he said they live on a vineyard.” She turns to me and hikes a brow. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a vineyard? Let alone had good wine?”
I narrow my eyes. “Let me guess. Tuscany when we were able to steal two days between your assignments?”
She exhales before planting her ass on the side of her bed with a groan.
“I’m right. I remember it like it was yesterday. We had that B&B to ourselves. The food was good, the wine was better, but the sex was the highlight.”
She looks away and shakes her head.
“The beginning of the end,” I add. “Had I only known, I would’ve talked you into running away with me forever.”
She might not be able to stand straight easily on her own yet, but she levels her eyes on me and her tone is as strong as ever. “You didn’t have the luxury then just as you don’t now, Cole. You have responsibilities, that’s not changed.”
“You used to understand my responsibilities.” I pull out my phone and press go on a number I’ve called way too often over the last few days. I listen to it ring and don’t take my eyes off the biggest challenge of my life. And that’s saying something. “Not only did you understand, you insisted I put them first, which I did and will do until the day I die. But it doesn’t mean I can’t have other things as well.”
Hollingsworth answers but his greeting is as frustrated as I feel. “You’ve already called for an update today. I swear I’ll reach out if I find out why she’s here.”
The frown that has marred Bella’s face ever since she came to and saw me sitting next to her deepens as I speak into the phone. “If Vega thought I was pissed the night of the shooting, it’s nothing compared to what he’ll have to deal with if he shows up here today. He’s not taking Bella anywhere. She’s been discharged and is going home with me.”
“Damn you,” Bella hisses.
Asa keeps talking and I hear voices in the background. “Well, since I’m watching my boy Crew go at a new recruit on the mat, I don’t think he’s heading your way anytime soon. Don’t worry, if anyone is going to kidnap your woman, it won’t be us.”
I exhale and am grateful for at least one less speed bump to maneuver.
“Good luck taking her home to Red.” Asa has the nerve to laugh even though he isn’t wrong. When I told Red what was going on, he looked about as happy as Bella does with me right now. “I’d pay to see that sho
w.”
“I don’t need any visitors, especially any of you. It was bad enough Jarvis got into her room when he did.”
“Jarvis.” Bella’s face lights up and it pisses me off. “He owes me his life—he said so himself. I’ll ring him to come get me.”
I hold my hand up. “Of all people, you’re not talking to Jarvis.”
“Tell her she’s out of luck,” Asa adds. “He’s in Ohio with Gracie. But they’ll be back tonight. Gracie couldn’t stop talking about Donnelly before they left. She’s going to want some time with your spy.”
“Nobody is getting time with Bella unless I allow it.” The topic at hand glares at me right before she rolls her eyes. “I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be a scene to deal with before we left the hospital. Call me if there’s anything I need to know. We’re headed home.”
Asa laughs again. Despite our friendship, he pisses me off like everyone else these days. “Good luck, brother.”
I disconnect before he can say anything else and cross my arms. “I know this goes against every grain in your beautiful body but I need you to cooperate. Being at my house is the safest place for you right now. I have my ear to the ground and don’t think anyone who matters knows you’re here. It needs to stay that way.”
She shifts where she’s sitting and pain cuts through her features. “I’m not safe anywhere and haven’t been for a long time. We both know this, but what you can’t seem to get through your thick skull is, I’m accustomed to it and have proven I can operate within it.”
My eyes narrow. “That wasn’t the case last week.”
“That was different and you know it. I’m an operative. I can make my way around a gunfight if I have to, but it’s not my specialty.”
I nod. “Exactly why you shouldn’t have inserted yourself into one.”
“How many people would be dead right now had I not?”
I lean in and put my hands to the bed, caging her in. She’s makeup free. Her long, platinum hair is pulled back with a tie. Even though she’s still a little pale and needs to gain some weight—some fresh air and vitamin D wouldn’t hurt, either—she’s as beautiful as the day I met her.
