by Brynne Asher
I sigh. I hate that I can’t go along. The Caribbean was one thing but stepping foot into Europe again? I can’t risk it.
“You’re staying here,” Cole echoes my thoughts.
I hike a brow before rolling my eyes. “For your information, I don’t want to go.”
He winks at me. “If that makes you feel better, sweetness.”
Damn him.
“You need to go,” Crew says to Cole. “We know nothing more about Simmons than we did the first time we ran his name. I’ll arrange for a plane to get you over there.” Crew looks to Ozzy. “I want eyes on Simmons’ house.”
Ozzy has quickly become the most popular man in the room since he can spy on anyone we wish. He lifts his chin as if it isn’t the big deal it is. “Done.”
“Asa and Grady left to drop the kids in BFE. They’ll find their way home. They’re running so scared there’s no way they’ll nose around even if they knew where to go. Jarvis is still with Gary. I think we’ll hang onto him for another day or so, see if there’s anything else he remembers. It’ll also make Peterson and Wendy nervous to lose contact with him—shake their cages. We took him off the hook and will get him some food and water soon.” Crew shrugs. “He’ll be fine.”
“Also,” Ozzy tosses a report on the table. “Ambrose, the guy who hiked all the way to the Caribbean to meet with Randolph, checks out—I mean, other than giving the Senator kickbacks. But otherwise, his business is on the up and up. Taxes paid on time, hasn’t had any OSHA issues, no EEOC. Besides the money under the table shit, he looks as clean as a whistle.”
“I’d have been surprised if you found anything more. He was angry and his hatred for Randolph practically seeped through the walls,” I add.
“We’ll continue to watch him even though it looks like his road will be a dead end.” Cole pulls me to his side. “It’s been a night. We need some shuteye since I’m going to have to explain to my daughter and father in the morning how we have no house to go back to.”
I lean into him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Here.” A cell phone flies through the air and Cole reaches out to nab it before it hits him in the face. Ozzy’s expression contorts into something between a frown and a wince. “I read your text messages. Thank you for polluting my phone forever. I wiped it clean—technically speaking, though I’m sure it could use some bleach after your conversation. It’s yours, I’ll buy a new one.” He points at me. “You’re never borrowing my shit again.”
I bite back my smile as Cole hands me Ozzy’s phone to keep as my own. “I’m sorry if we burned your young eyes.”
Ozzy moves for the front door and shakes his head. “You’re younger than me Bella. I just don’t want to know about your sex life.”
“I don’t give a shit what you use the cell for, just keep it close,” Crew says as he follows Ozzy out. “I’ll call you with your flight information.”
And that’s it. I shouldn’t be surprised they don’t wish us a goodnight. The sun will be rising over the Virginia countryside soon. Cole turns me toward the stairs. “Let’s go to bed. I’ll take a raincheck on the blowjob.”
I look back where he’s following me up the stairs. “Who said you’re getting a raincheck?”
He smacks my ass. “I did. You know you’ve missed him.”
I sway my hips as I move up the stairs in front of him. “You and your cock.”
“We both love you. Wish you could come to Geneva. It’s a long flight with plenty of time for me to cash in my blowjob voucher.”
We turn the corner to the bedroom we’re staying in. “For so many reasons, I wish I were able to go, as well.”
His dirty shirt lands on the floor next to the bed before he reaches for me. He smells like a campfire but I don’t even care as he pulls me into his chest. “As much as I’ve loved working side-by-side with you again, you don’t know what it means to me you’ll be here with Abbott and Red. Especially after what happened tonight. I swear this won’t be a normal thing. I hardly travel anymore and the last thing I want is to ground you here while I’m gone.”
I push my jeans down my legs before I lift up on my toes to press my lips to his. “I know, love.”
His arms constrict around me and my peck on his lips is a sorry excuse compared to the one he lays on me. It’s more of a promise than a kiss. I’m in desperate need of air when he tips his forehead to mine. “I want you to do whatever you want, baby. But when the op is done, when you come home after a trip, or lay your beautiful head of hair down to sleep at night, I want it to be next to me.”
I press into his wide chest. “I won’t be anywhere else. I promise.”
With the whirlwind swirling around us, I’m not sure if he’s used to the idea he won’t have to tie me down, how I’m willingly and freely giving myself to him, his family, and his life here in America. Because, when we finally do fall into bed, Cole holds me tighter than he ever has before. Either desperation or disbelief … he doesn’t deserve to let that eat away at him. Whatever it is, I silently vow to do everything I possibly can to wipe that clean.
Cole and I deserve a fresh start.
“Why can’t we go see it?” Abbott asks for the tenth time.
Cole explained what happened as best he could to Abbott first thing this morning. Kudos to him for not using the words arson, attempted murder, or every four-letter word that usually spills from his lips. Though, when he pulled his father aside to explain what really happened, he used all those and more.
So Red is grumpier than usual, but at least it’s not directed toward me. A light in the darkness, for sure.
Cole left for the airport. As much as I want to run over to Crew’s camp and monitor his new spy satellite and illegal wiretaps, Abbott has been unusually … what is the word?
Present.
I would draw the line at clingy. We’re not there yet.
But she wants to be in my company.
“The area around your home isn’t secure yet, love. Ashes and rubble are everywhere. It’s for our safety. There’s more to do here anyway, right? You can play with Vivi before her nap, we’ll work on your French studies, and maybe visit the cows.”
Her arms cross tight around her front and she worries her lip. “Where’d Grandpa go?”
“You know your grandpa.” I take her hand to lead her to Addy’s home office. “I think he went outside to putter around the barn. When you have a home the size of this one, there are always things that need tweaking, no?”
“I thought we were going to wait ‘til later for my French lesson.”
“We are.” I pull out the chair and set her on my lap at the desk in front of the monitor as Daisy curls up on my foot. “Right now, we’re going to do something else. Do you know what the only good thing is that comes from something as horrid as a house fire?”
She looks up at me and frowns. “No.”
“Shopping. I haven’t shopped much lately so I figure this is my time to shine. Would you like to start with clothes, toys, or books?”
“You mean, I get to pick what I want?”
“Of course, darling. Who else would choose your things for you?”
She shrugged. “My mommy didn’t let me choose much.”
Of course she didn’t. This might be more fun than I thought. “Today is your day. I assume you’ll need a brand-new copy of The Secret Garden and some school clothes. Beyond that, I’m going to need your help.”
Nervousness leaks through her innocent face. “Um … I don’t like to wear dresses.”
“Well then, no dresses for you. How can you swing and run and play in a dress? I don’t blame you one bit. Tell me, where should we start?”
She chews on a piece of skin around her fingernail and shrugs. “Books?”
I click on the browser to pull up the bookstore. “I thought as much.”
After I add a copy of The Secret Garden to the basket, we continue our search. I can’t say it’s as much fun as shopping with my mum when I was little, and if I w
ere able to actually live my life in public, I would have bought her a cup of hot chocolate to sip while strolling the aisles and aisles of children’s fiction.
Someday.
But for today, this will do. Abbott doesn’t hate me for being here instead of her mum or for loving her father. She might not be close to trusting me with her secrets, but this is a step in the right direction. Even this morning, Red didn’t once look as if he were going to blame me for his son’s home being blown to bits.
The road in front of me might be long and I’m not sure where it will lead, but, for now, I’ll take this and tuck it away in my healing heart. As opposed to the physical scar which now decorates my body, I don’t want the one on my heart to disappear. It’s a reminder of this—Abbott trusting me, Red accepting me, and Cole doing everything in his power to hand me the world.
That’s one scar I’ll happily treasure forever.
Chapter 29
Macpussy
Cole
Nothing has fucked over the intelligence community more than the franchise of James Bond. The idiots who won’t let that sucker die have no idea how off-base they are.
If we get into a shootout, we’ve fucked up.
If we get into a car chase, we’ve done something wrong. My most recent incident with Jarvis’s precious Porsche notwithstanding … that shit was not my fault.
I’ve never been on a high-speed boat while working. Well, there was that one time when we had to borrow a single-engine outboard. We weren’t able to return it due to the fact it sunk but I did track down the fisherman and sent him a check from Uncle Sam.
And if we had the kickass technology Tony Stark uses to support the Avengers, intelligence jobs would be downright obsolete.
In reality, our best-practice techniques are basic human psychology and understanding what motivates people. Networking. Analyzing. Studying. Then taking that data and deducing what might happen next.
It doesn’t hurt to know your way around a security system or how to pick a lock the old-fashioned way, either.
Which is what I did three hours ago. Since then, I’m back to being patient. Before I left, Ozzy tracked Penn’s wife and kids to the States where it looks like they’re visiting family over the summer. Penn stayed behind to work so I had no one but a gang of villainous Shakespearean pussies to worry about. They do not live up to their names, weaving their way in and out of my ankles, not giving a shit I broke into their house. This makes me wonder why Abbott’s cat hates me so much. I’m not that bad and I’m the one paying for catnip. There are so many reasons why I should be her fucking favorite.
I helped myself to a whiskey neat but kept it to two fingers. I am working after all, even if it’s off the record.
I’ve sat here for hours—waiting, sipping, stroking pussies—but finally it happens. What I traveled across the pond for. When I hear him, I only move my hand to lift my Glock.
The door opens but doesn’t close.
I wait.
He was a Marine, not an operative. I’m impressed by the fact I can hardly hear his steps.
Penn Simmons appears, moving around the corner from the kitchen to the family room, but he enters second, behind the pistol pointed at me.
Well, fuck you very much, Penn Simmons. Mine is drawn and aimed right back at him.
He’s steady but his tone is even more stable. “Who are you?”
I don’t answer nor do I lower my weapon as Lady Macbeth’s tail swipes my face from where she’s curled around my neck. “You have good taste in whiskey.”
“Who are you?” he repeats with a force behind it that would make most people cower.
“No, I think the better question is, who are you, Penn Simmons?”
“You know my name and are sitting in my favorite chair so I’m not answering that. The only reason you’re not dead right now is because I don’t want blood all over my recliner and I like that cat. I can’t put a bullet through your head without killing her and she’s the only one I’ve ever been able to teach to fetch, so quit fucking around—who are you and why the fuck are you in my house?”
I scratch Lady Macpussy on her hind leg since I need her to stay where she is and shake my head. “I might have my gun trained on you, but I only came to talk. Trust me, if it weren’t for me, you’d be deader than Romeo and Juliet, only your story might be more tragic. Can we put down the guns so no one gets an itchy finger?”
“You first.”
Besides his frown setting deeper into his face, Penn doesn’t move a muscle.
I narrow my eyes.
Macpussy meows.
He lowers his voice. “I’m not talking ‘til you put your gun down.”
“If you shoot me, you’ll ruin your chances of seeing tomorrow because I promise they’ll find you.”
He nods. “You’ve got two minutes to explain yourself.”
I slowly lower my gun until it’s sitting on the arm of his favorite chair. I see why he likes it so much—it’s damn comfortable and I might need one since all my shit is a charred mess. I show him my bare palm. “Your turn.”
Not so slowly, he twirls his handgun around a finger and points it at the ceiling but doesn’t put it down.
“On the counter, Penn.”
“On the coffee table, asshole.”
I lean forward enough to put my gun out of reach and he does the same.
“Who the hell are you?” he demands.
I don’t answer. “Some pretty important people want you dead. Do you have any idea why that might be?”
The muscle in his cheek jumps. It’s small but it’s a tell—he isn’t surprised. “No.”
I tip my head. “Really? Somehow, I don’t believe you.”
“Not my problem what you believe.”
“You see, this is where you’re wrong. I think you and I have something in common. I can’t justify why anyone would want you dead. I’ve also read up on you—pretty sure you and I play for the same team.”
“Did my time and did it honorably.” He tells me something I know. “I’m not on anyone’s team anymore but my own. I’m trying to work and live somewhere my kids can see the world and enjoy a larger life before we move back to the States.”
I gaze at him a second before nodding slowly. He won’t take his eyes off me and he won’t relax.
I tell him something else I know. “You handle military contracts for armored gear and weapons.”
“I can’t tell whether you’re trying to rile me by showing me how much you know or accuse me of something, but your two minutes are ticking by. I suggest you get to it or else I will pick up my gun.”
“Yours is an interesting job,” I note, not worried about the shock clock he’s put me on.
“It’s really not.”
I take my hand off the cat’s ass and rub my chin. “But it is. So many new people I’ve met in the last two weeks dabble in government contracts for the Department of Defense. And some of those companies I’ve come across are winning all the bids despite being the highest bidder. They’re not playing fair and they’re also not the ones with contracts on their heads. So I’m trying to figure out why people want you D-E-A-D despite the fact you seem to be playing fair. And before you say anything, I know pretty much everything there is to know about your company—it’s clean.”
His gaze on me darkens when he whispers, “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the guy who’s kept you alive the last few weeks. If you want to stay that way, I’m going to need some help.”
He says nothing.
“Look, Penn. I could’ve killed you the moment you opened your door. I don’t kill people unless it’s in self-defense, but the people who work for me do it for the bounty. I have the power to keep them on your good side. And by the looks of it, I’d say you could use a friend at your back right now. I also need to know everything there is to know about one of your competitors, DefenseJet.”
His response is immediate. “How do you know about them?”
&n
bsp; “Now we’re getting somewhere.” I smile but I don’t think he likes it because his spine stiffens. “They’re your competitor and I know about the kickbacks.”
“Fuck,” he spits.
He takes a step forward and moves to the sofa across from my new favorite chair. He sits but leans forward and swipes a hand down his face. We sit this way for a few quiet moments. Sometimes you just know when people need a second to regroup, and since I’m a nice guy, I give it to him.
Finally, he looks at me. “I need to know who you are. I need some kind of assurance this isn’t going to backfire on me. I can’t have that happen because I was curious.”
“I like curious,” I note. “I’ll be straight with you. I’m CIA and I have people who want me dead because I wouldn’t carry out the order to put a hit on you.”
His eyes widen.
“Yeah,” I agree. “This is more than stroking someone’s back to make it greener.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Tell me what you know. Then I’ll tell you what I know. I bet by the time we’re done talking, we’ll both feel a little safer because, if you’re anything like me, you’ll agree knowledge is power and power is leverage. I could use a little bit of that right now and so could you.”
He sits back in his seat. “I worked all over Europe when I was active and saw a lot of shit. Twenty years of duty will create instincts you can’t easily turn off when you retire. The last few years, terrorist attacks are on the rise.”
I nod. “Like I said, we play for the same team, Penn. Already know this.”
He leans forward, elbows to his knees, and lowers his voice. “But these attacks are different.”
“How so?”
“They claim to be Al-Qaeda but they don’t act like Al-Qaeda. Then Al-Qaeda comes out, denies responsibility, and I hear the same from other sources I trust. If Al-Qaeda wants to stir shit up, they claim it.”
