The Assassin

by Tricia Andersen

There was only one answer. Gone. He blew out his breath as he lay back against the pillows. A pang of guilt hit him. Suddenly, all those times he had disappeared after sleeping with her seemed extraordinarily cruel. Aye, I guess what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.

  He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, tossing off the covers. He smiled relieved at the sight of Abbey’s bag next to his. She hadn’t abandoned him. His little early bird had already gone to work and left him to sleep. With one final yawn and a stretch, he stood and started to dress.

  Moments later, he strode across the camp, his trademark smirk firmly on his face. Abbey was right. Once again, they needed to find common ground. And last night, they had done just that until the wee hours, talking out their thoughts and fears between soft, sweet lovemaking.

  Sloan’s grin widened as he stepped into the control center. He stopped for a moment to savor the sight before him. Abbey stood at the desk, studying the same world map that she had the night before. The black T-shirt and jeans she wore molded to her curves. Her long, brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. In her hands she cradled a lidded paper cup of coffee.

  He marched across the space to her. Without turning around, she reached for the cup on the desk beside her. Sloan could see the smile curve her lips as she held it out for him.

  Screw decorum. Taking the drink from her, Sloan wrapped his other arm around her waist, tugging her against him. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Good morning, luv. Sleep well?”

  Abbey gazed at him. “What little sleep I did get was wonderful. And you?”

  “Same. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You looked so peaceful sleeping. And very sexy. I didn’t have the heart to get you up.”

  Sloan glanced around the room, noticing both men and women bashfully blushing at their display of affection. Bartholomew, taking notes a few seats away, shook his head and chuckled. “Have you found anything?”

  Abbey sighed. “It’s the same. The containers disappear leaving Okinawa. Torelli was sighted in Belgium about two weeks ago. There’s been nothing since.”

  Sloan analyzed the screen in front of them for several silent moments. “He’s in France, most likely Paris.”

  Abbey spun at him. “How’d you figure that out?”

  Sloan grinned at her. “He’s selling these to the highest bidder. He needs a major metropolitan area to blend in so he’s not sighted and a major airport that his buyers can fly into and also blend in without being detected. He needs a busy area so the containers can be shipped in without detection. Plus those manifests you showed me in Lathrop’s office had France typed on them It didn’t make sense until now.” He winked at her. “See? I paid attention.”

  He looked up at the nearest soldier. “Contact Agent Dunham. Get all the video footage you can in Paris. Traffic cameras, surveillance cameras, ATM cameras. Whatever you can. Then have the CIA scan for Torelli. I bet half my fortune you’ll find him.”

  “Yes, sir,” the private complied, as he picked up the receiver of his phone.

  Abbey smiled at Sloan. He could see the pride in her eyes. It was the same look as when she watched their children. “What do we do now?”

  “We wait. If I’m right, then we’re off to Paris to stakeout until we see him again.” Sloan looked beyond Abbey to Bartholomew. “And you’re going home. You have a child coming.”

  “I still have time. I called. Maggie is doing fine. And she gave me strict orders to keep an eye on her brother.”

  “You don’t want to miss the birth of your baby, B.”

  “I won’t. We’re going to find Torelli and get home in time to meet my little one.”

  Sloan smiled as Bartholomew turned back to his work. Wrapping his hand around Abbey’s, he tugged her with him to find breakfast.

  After a lively discussion over bacon and eggs, the O’Rileys took a walk around the base. Abbey kept chattering, this time about the children, just like the good mother she was. Sloan, as usual, listened with all his undivided attention. Despite the fact that they would soon be hunting Torelli, Sloan loved the peace he now shared with his wife. Being at odds with her was foolish. It was time wasted without the woman he loved.

  They were greeted by Agent Dunham the second they stepped back into the control center. “You were right, Sloan. Three different ATM cameras spotted Torelli. It was an unmistakable match.”

  “Where?”

  “Near the Seine River, close to some established manufacturing warehouses.”

  “Fantastic. When can you send us to Paris?”

  “We’re preparing your flight. Be ready in an hour.”

  Sloan nodded in acknowledgement then took Abbey’s hand in his. Bartholomew rose from his seat and followed them to the barracks to pack.

  »»•««

  In a matter of hours, the three of them were standing at the check-in desk of the quaint little hotel they had stayed in after the Gauntlet. Abbey watched Sloan take the key with a devilish smirk. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. How Sloan had arranged this hotel out of all the ones in this huge city she didn’t know, especially with the CIA footing the bill.

  If he had been able to get the government to bite on the hotel, she knew for certain that they had their powder blue room. He only did it because I’ve talked nonstop about that night since. This time, we’ll have to see if we can squeeze into that tiny bathroom together…

  Bartholomew picked up his bag and tossed the handle over his shoulder. “I’m not even going to ask who’s taking the first shift on the streets. I’ll volunteer. You two go christen your room, okay?”

  “Where’d that come from?” Sloan demanded.

  “From the poor sap that got stuck next door to you last time. And I’m next to you this time. The steady thump of the headboard against the wall was soothing. But I could have done without the loud moaning and screaming. Thought someone was getting murdered there a couple of times.”

  Abbey felt her cheeks blaze as she watched Bartholomew stride off to the elevators. She turned to find Sloan watching her, biting his lower lip to suppress a chuckle. It only lasted a few moments before he roared with laughter.

  Abbey huffed. “Glad you find it funny.”

  Sloan wrapped his arm around her and gave her a little squeeze. “Lighten up, luv. Besides, the man isn’t lying. I had you screaming like a banshee for sure.”

  Abbey opened her mouth just to shut it again. Any point of argument she would have would just be a point in his favor. Silently, she fumed as he escorted her to the elevators, still giggling.

  As much as Abbey tried to resist Sloan in protest of his and Bartholomew’s teasing, it didn’t take long for her to succumb to his seduction. Being in the tiny hotel room filled with so many memories, combined with her sinfully sexy husband, it was hard to resist him. It took only a few long, slow kisses for Abbey to undress for him.

  The smirk on Sloan’s face was unmistakable. He knew the power he had over her. Abbey snarled as she shoved him back on the mattress and straddled him. We’ll see who has the power now.

  After a few intimate hours of lovemaking, followed by a quick nap, Sloan dressed so he could take Bartholomew’s place. Abbey let go a silent moan as he tugged on a pair of black jeans and stretched a black T-shirt over his broad chest. She scrambled out of bed and pulled on clothes as well.

  They turned at the knock on the door. Sloan unlocked and opened it, letting Bartholomew step inside.

  “Anything?” Sloan questioned.

  “Nothing. I covered the ten blocks on every side of this hotel. No sign of Torelli.”

  “I expected that. If we see him before the end of the week, I’ll be surprised. I’ll contact Dunham and make sure they are still sending us the coordinates when they do spot him on video. Get some food and sleep. I’ll let you know what I find in the morning.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll keep an eye on your girl.”

  “Thanks.”

  Abbey and Bartholomew walked Sloan t
o the lobby so he could take his shift on the streets. Pulling her to him, Sloan pressed a long, sweet kiss on her lips, the type of kiss that made her melt and her knees buckle. He was setting out as twilight darkened the sky, which would be perfect for the big, bad Irishman to go hunting for his prey. He tugged on his wool trench coat, gave Abbey one last tender kiss goodbye, and left. Once he disappeared into the Paris night, Abbey and Bartholomew snuck off to find something to eat.

  Abbey woke the next morning to find the hotel door cracked. She heard the masculine voices outside. Jumping out of bed, she shuffled across the room in her pajamas and threw open the door all the way, finding Sloan and Bartholomew in the hallway. “Care to clue me in on this conversation?” She yawned.

  “I saw Torelli,” Sloan informed her.

  Abbey’s eyes flew open wide. “Wow, that was quick. Let’s go get him.”

  “Not so fast. Just because I saw him doesn’t mean I know where he’s established himself. And our orders are more complicated than that.”

  “We’ve been sent to get him.”

  “Things have changed, Abs.” Bartholomew leaned against the wall behind him as he crossed his strong arms over his broad chest. “He didn’t just steal arms from the U.S. He’s dealing weapons from countries all over the world. Our orders are to secure what he has in surplus. When we find his location, a team will be sent to help us take him into custody. Right now, we just need to find out where he’s set up shop. All we do know is that we can’t let him escape. If he tries, it’s shoot to kill. Can you do that?”

  Abbey huffed angrily as she scowled. “Torelli? Yes, him I can shoot to kill. But how are we going to confiscate the weapons?” Bartholomew shot a knowing glance at Sloan. Abbey frowned at them. “What am I missing?”

  Sloan took a deep breath before answering. “We obviously can’t just go in and tell them to surrender them to us. That’s why we need the team to join us. I believe I can construct some low charge explosives that will seal the doors until we can summon Interpol and they can secure the weapons.”

  “So you’re going to use tiny bombs around bigger bombs?”

  “The detonations will be isolated to the doors only.”

  Abbey shook her head. “And how do you know they’ll work?”

  “I don’t. But they should cause enough ruckus to make moving what is inside difficult to remove. It’s our only option.”

  “Got it.”

  Bartholomew shoved off the wall with his foot. “Well, I’m going to go back on stakeout. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  Abbey frowned. “It’s my turn.”

  Sloan shook his head. “No, luv. It’s not. If Torelli finds you, Lord knows what he’ll do with you. I already lost you once. I sure as bloody hell am not giving Torelli another chance to take you from me. Bartholomew will hit the streets.” He took Abbey’s hand in his and tugged her back to the room. “You can keep me company in bed.”

  Abbey caught sight of Bartholomew one last time before Sloan dragged her into the hotel room, slamming and locking the door behind them.

  Over the next three days, Bartholomew and Sloan spotted Torelli a dozen times. Each man followed as far as he could, but lost Torelli before he reached his hideout. When they weren’t on stakeout, they were preparing their attack.

  Abbey did what she could to find a source of sheet metal and a metal shop for Sloan to construct the brackets for his little charges. She even accompanied him, watching him as he cut then welded the pieces together. The perspiration pebbling on his skin made her squirm. She really shouldn’t get this aroused, being in the middle of an undercover war. But this city and seeing her man sweat as he worked was a turn-on. She couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel for a shower. She’d have to join him to make sure every spot on him got clean.

  The chirp of his phone prompted Sloan to set down the welding torch. He glanced at the number and answered it. “Sloan,” he barked.

  Abbey leaned against a tool bench as Sloan listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. His brow creased as he spun on the toe of his boot and stormed from the shop. She frowned. What did he learn? Shouldn’t I know what’s going on too? Pushing off the bench with her foot, she followed him. She nearly collided with him as he stepped back inside.

  “Where are you going, lass?” he demanded.

  “Who was that?” she countered.

  “We’re going on a little road trip.” He motioned to the scraps of steel. “Leave those. I’ll let the shop owner know we’ll be back for them. I need to find a car.”

  Abbey waited as Sloan slipped into the office briefly. He took her hand in his as they walked the four block distance between the shop and hotel. Sloan flipped his phone from his pocket and hit a number on the speed dial.

  “You don’t have a rental car company in Paris on speed dial, do you?” Abbey questioned.

  Sloan glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he listened to the line ring. “Of course not. But I’m not relying on the CIA’s resources to get us a car. My resources are far superior… Ashleigh, good morning. Did you just get to your desk? Fantastic. I need you to find me a rental car company in Paris, one that will deliver the car to our hotel… That one will work. Could you please arrange a rental for us? You know what I prefer to drive… Thank you. You are my lifesaver. Yes, Abbey and Bartholomew are doing well. We’ll all be home soon. Have a good day… Bye.”

  He hung up and cocked a grin at her. “I bet the CIA couldn’t get us a car that fast.”

  Abbey giggled. “I bet not.”

  They continued on, weaving around the other pedestrians slipping in and out of the shops and cafes that lined the sidewalk.

  Suddenly, Abbey’s breath escaped her lungs as Sloan slammed her against the brick wall of a storefront. His mouth drove against hers hungrily as he pressed his large, hard body to her. Thoughts disappeared from her mind as she wound her arms around his neck, willingly surrendering as her tongue played tag with his. She didn’t know how long they kissed, but it left her breathless.

  “Wow, where did that come from?” she squeaked.

  “The fact that you are that hard to resist, and I needed to have a taste now. Well, that, and Torelli just passed us on the sidewalk.”

  Abbey sprung to her toes as she gawked around. “Really? Where?”

  Sloan maneuvered her back down low. “Not now. He sees you, he’ll know we’ve found him. Let’s get back to the hotel. We need to get on the road.”

  He led Abbey to an overstuffed sofa then settled beside her. “They should be here in ten minutes.”

  “What do we do until then?” she inquired.

  He gathered her to him. “Pick up where we left off on the street?”

  Abbey wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Sure.”

  She sank into his kisses, losing all sense of time. His touch made her shudder. She wanted to be in their room making love, not down here waiting for a car. They were interrupted too soon by the desk clerk. “Sir, your car is here.”

  “Thank you,” Sloan mumbled as he broke from Abbey’s embrace. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he stood first and then pulled her to her feet. Her knees buckled as she put weight on them. That was the effect he had on her. They walked out hand-in-hand to their vehicle. Sloan dismissed the driver with a nod as the man climbed into the second car waiting to take him back to the rental agency. The Irishman offered his hand to help Abbey in then settled in behind the wheel.

  Abbey glanced around the sports car as Sloan shifted it into drive. Only her man could find a rental company that offered Lamborghinis. The stealthy black vehicle was far from covert. Abbey groaned a little as she snuggled against the plush gray leather. But it sure is comfy.

  The afternoon sun shone brightly on the fields around them as they drove into the countryside. Abbey held Sloan’s hand tight in hers as they wound on the rural roads. She watched him anxiously. Does he know where we’re going?

  Sloan pulled the vehicle alongside a small ta
vern in a tiny town. Helping Abbey out, he escorted her inside and to two empty stools at the bar. Settling on his next to a bum in a hooded coat, he ordered her a glass of Chardonnay and himself an ale.

  Abbey turned, astonished, as Sloan spoke to the bum. “Do you have the package?”

  The man silently reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box. “Will that be enough?”

  “For a half a dozen charges? Absolutely.”

  “And you understand your orders from Agent Dunham, correct?”

  “Apprehend Torelli. Contact him for the extraction team. Confiscate the arms.”

  “Very good. How much longer until the attack?”

  “Matter of days.”

  “Excellent. We and Interpol wait for your word. Finish your job, Mr. O’Riley. Bring your team home safe. Good luck.”

  “Thank you, Agent Cross.”

  The agent stood, slapping enough money on the bar to cover all the drinks. He nodded to Abbey as he passed. “Good day, Mrs. O’Riley.” She watched, stunned, as he shuffled out of the tavern.

  Abbey looked at Sloan, puzzled, as he took a swig of his ale. He shrugged. “This is the CIA’s mission, not mine. If they want any kind of bang, they had better provide the fireworks.”

  “You mean the French government isn’t on board with this?”

  “They are. Absolutely. But I don’t need an overambitious Paris cop arresting me for trafficking explosives and have Torelli pick up on it. He’d run fast and run hard and then we would never find him.” Sloan took a long swig. “Or worse, he’d retaliate. And Abigail, we know who his target would be. You.”

  “Or you. He wants you dead too.” Abbey blew out a deep breath then took a sip of her wine to calm her quaking nerves. Retaliation. They owned one of the largest destination resort corporations in the world. Sloan was a famous artist. Together, they had written and illustrated one of the fastest-selling children’s book series in years. They were public figures. But that was how they hid this life—in plain sight. Who would think a children’s author and illustrator were basically spies? Mercenaries?

  The problem with that was that their cover didn’t just encompass them. The world knew of their children whether Sloan and Abbey wanted it or not. Which hadn’t been a casualty they had considered when they had started. Torelli knew how much her children meant to her. He had set up her Skype conversation. He had listened as she talked to them. If he targeted their kids… Abbey shuddered at the thought.