Little White Lies

by Aimee Laine

  “Go to the left room,” James said. “Lily and I have moved everything over with the real Candie.”

  When the doors opened, he rushed inside, pressed his floor button half a dozen times as if that would help.

  James snickered. “Coulda taken the stairs.”

  “Fuck off,” Wyatt said.

  Charley held a one-way conversation which told Wyatt nothing about who she’d met—only that she’d meet them at the gentleman’s entrance in five minutes. Wyatt could only assume they had separated.

  “What’s going on, Charley?”

  He got no response.

  When the doors opened again, he stepped onto the floor. Cael stopped him with one hand outstretched.

  “How’d you get over here so fast?”

  “Took the stairs,” Cael said.

  James chuckled. “Told ya.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but you gotta calm down. Charley knows what she’s doing, and if she went in for the kill that early, she knows a lot more than we do.”

  “Weren’t you there? Right there? Couldn’t you hear anything?” Wyatt’s voice turned into a plea. He poked Cael in the chest.

  “Not with that girl giggling in my ear and the music pumping like it was.” Cael removed Wyatt’s finger. “Trust her, man.”

  Trust a woman he barely knew on an op that could mean his career? He knew his Director had lost his mind the moment he’d told him to hire Charley and her team, but he didn’t realize the extent of the senility until that moment.

  Cael turned and led the way to their room.

  While Wyatt paced, Cael, Lily and James busied themselves with prep work. The plan had moved far faster than expected.

  Wyatt stood at the window and waited—lost in thought. How had she convinced him so quickly? Did she know him? Did he know her? Who did he know, Candie or Charley—and how could that be? The questions raced through his head, one after the other.

  The girls said their goodbyes as Candie announced she had yet another private off-site. She called out her thanks and ‘see yas’ to them. A door opened and closed before her, ‘Hey boys’ registered. She must have met them outside the club. The click of her heels came before the three forms began their walk across the street.

  She moves like a graceful tank. Two men flanked her, their long jackets floating behind them, eyes covered by shades despite the darkness of the hour. Charley’s face tilted up at the second floor. Does she see me?

  Wyatt leaned back on the ledge, crossed his arms and tapped his toes with a nervous energy that flowed through his body.

  “Relax, Wyatt,” Lily said. “Keep your eye on the monitors.”

  Though the men remained silent, Charley kept them apprised. Lobby. Elevator. Hallway.

  “Ready boys?” she asked with suggestive undertones as the key engaged the lock and the door swung open in front of her.

  Wyatt trained his gaze on the monitor.

  James moved outside to reprogram the lock so there’d be no unexpected entry or exit.

  Wyatt continued to watch via video monitor as Charley brought them farther inside, offered them a drink, and let her jacket drop to the floor. The silver and blue outline of her attire covered very little.

  Both men accepted a Scotch from the minibar, their faces in shadow.

  Charley’s hip swayed right, her hands in her hair. She slipped to the left, reaching for the ties to her ensemble. One of the two excused himself to the bathroom.

  “Show time, take two,” James said.

  “Let me help you with your tie.” Charley crooned to the man seated on the bed. She moved close enough for his face to fill the screen.

  “Holy shit.” Cael came up behind Wyatt.

  Wyatt’s lips firmed into a tight grimace as he looked upon a face he knew all too well, yet not at all. How do they know him?

  • • •

  A crash, an ‘oomph’, and silence emanated from the bathroom.

  Lily’s concoction works with magical timing.

  The man on the bed looked up at Charley and mouthed all-too-familiar words. “Keep—my—cover.”

  “I will,” she mouthed and closed her eyes. She added, “Keep mine,” but he’d already fallen backward to the bed.

  When Wyatt stormed the room, Charley turned toward him from where she’d knelt. Her body shook as if she’d been chilled by the wind, yet the room hovered at a warm seventy-two degrees.

  “How does he know you?” Wyatt asked. “How does my best friend from high school know it’s you?”

  “I can explain.” Charley held out her hands as she stood. “I’d like to change out of these clothes first.”

  James and Cael entered and split up—one to the bathroom, one to Stuart. They pulled each man from his stupor.

  “What is there to explain? How does he know?”

  Charley tried to move past Wyatt, but he blocked her way. “Let me by, Wyatt.”

  “Let her by, man.” James’s warning came as he sat Kevin in a chair.

  Wyatt moved enough to let her by but so that she’d have to rub her entire body against his to do so. Once past, she strode into the room where Lily waited.

  “How much do I tell him?”

  Lily pointed to her ear.

  Damn!

  Wyatt walked in, fury burned his eyes. “Tell me how much of what?”

  “Everything,” Lily mouthed and moved to the opposite room.

  Charley knew they’d listen to every word. She paced as she thought. The size of the room prevented the extension of her full stride as Candie. What does he really want to know? She bristled at the lack of space.

  “Sit down, Wyatt.” Charley motioned to the bed where Candie slept.

  He stood, arms crossed, and didn’t budge.

  “Okay.” He’s not going to make this easy.

  She ran her hands through her hair. When she touched the lens of the hidden camera, she followed its path down the back of her head and detached it.

  “Now only I can see you.” She laid it on the table.

  “How do you know Stuart?”

  “We worked together.” Not a lie.

  “When?”

  Too soon after I left you. “A number of years ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Same as you. Help. Information.” She shrugged. To save his life.

  “How did he know you aren’t Candie?”

  The question lay in front of her like a red-hot branding iron. How much did she risk? How far did she have to go? “I let him kiss me.” She looked down at the floor.

  “So a kiss tells someone who you are?” His voice rose. “Is that all it takes? A simple kiss on the lips?” Wyatt stepped toward her.

  Charley took a step back, bumped into the table. “Wyatt—”

  “Don’t ‘Wyatt’ me.” He threw his arms out like an umpire calling a runner safe. “How does he know, dammit? You said you showed him.” Wyatt’s tone turned venomous as he batted the sides of his head with his palms. “It’s nearly midnight, Charley; I’m tired and frustrated, and this new information isn’t going to help.”

  “I told you.” Charley dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “Like this?” Wyatt’s lips met hers with a fiery passion.

  Her arms hung limp at her sides, like drapes above a window. As Wyatt pressed his lips to hers, memory took hold. She wanted to tear into him; she wanted to cry.

  Control your emotions Charley, or he’s going to discover the truth.

  Wyatt pushed the kiss farther.

  Charley’s hands regained their function, and she dove into him, dug through his suit, and moved her fingers up to his hair, where she pressed as he shifted and adjusted. Their lips sizzled with an intensity she’d known only with one other man—rather, the man he used to be.

  She pulled her lips from his but kept a secure hold on him. “I was in South America.” Though it wasn’t the first time we met or the last. “We were on an assignment for the Army. Stuart was
a private in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Go on.” He pushed but laid his head against her forehead.

  “Like this operation, he walked into the middle of it. To save his life I had to reveal a bit of my cover, so to speak.” She took a deep breath. “In the process, we ended up entangled within each others’ arms and walked out unharmed. But—” She moved her hands up to hold on to Wyatt’s lapels. “—I still had work to do, and he might see me again. We needed a signal to ensure if we found ourselves in the same situation, we’d both know.”

  “That doesn’t sound so farfetched. Why didn’t you just say something?”

  “He’s undercover, Wyatt. He’s not a part of this group you’re searching for. If he’s here, in that role, he’s fighting the same battle. He signaled me, I signaled him. We both knew.” More than you.

  “Who does he work for?”

  “That I can’t say.” Or not exactly—same group as you.

  Relief flooded into her as Charley realized Wyatt’s concern lent itself more to their cover than her revelations. He tried to turn, but Charley held him close.

  “As far as I know, he’s not on our side. I haven’t seen him since high school, so I really don’t know anything about him.”

  “I thought you were best friends?”

  When he met her eyes again, she worried she’d said more than she should know. He’d said that earlier, hadn’t he? Dammit!

  Sadness clouded the green of his iris. “We were. We had a falling out a long time ago.”

  “Good friends are hard to come by.” She ran her hands up his chest. Almost eye to eye without the stilettos, she could see deep into his.

  He dropped his head and shook it, tried to turn from her but she held tight again.

  “Why won’t you let me go?” His expression teased.

  She sensed diffused rage. “Why should I?”

  Wyatt moved his arms to her waist and pulled her into him again. Their eyes locked, emotion passing from one to the other. Charley withheld her moan as pleasure filled her. Wyatt tilted his head, and with a deliberate and gentle touch, eased his lips to hers again. The kiss burned into her psyche and ignited fires long since dampened.

  Wyatt shifted as Charley did. They moved together as if they’d known each other forever. Their tongues teased, breath escaped and bodies pulsed—heartbeats in sync.

  Charley closed her eyes as Wyatt relaxed in her arms. Her fingers tickled the back of his neck—a place she’d found he loved before.

  He’s the same.

  He shivered under her touch.

  Recognition?

  Charley pulled her lips from his. “There’s more, though.” She kept her gaze on his. Oh, so much more.

  “Yeah, I guess since he knows about us, none of our interrogation can be in Kevin’s presence.”

  Fear kept truth hidden. “I’m not sure what he knows, but I promised we would keep his cover.” Charley didn’t move away.

  “We will, but will he keep ours?”

  He always has.

  “It’ll help if I’m not Candie when we talk.” Her body trembled. “Wait.” She stopped, confused. “I thought none of them would remember.”

  “They won’t if we inject them, but I’m not sure I can do that to a fellow American, or agent, if that’s what he is.”

  “Then I will,” Charley said. And everyone can forget it all.

  Wyatt pushed her hair behind her shoulder. His finger caressed the side of her neck. Charley let the sensation run through her—as memorable as if she’d been the eighteen-year-old he’d once known.

  “Thank you,” Wyatt said.

  “For what?”

  “For opening up. For being honest. For telling me stuff you were probably sworn to keep confidential and for trusting me.”

  Ouch. Charley held her smile in place.

  Wyatt dropped her hand as she pulled away from him.

  “Shall we get your information, then?” She turned to the door as Lily entered. Her sniff and tears sent panic through her. “Lily?” She pushed past Wyatt. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s … Chase …” She sputtered as James and Cael came in behind her. “He’s missing!”

  • • •

  “Who’s Chase?” Wyatt asked.

  Charley didn’t respond. She moved to stand directly in front of James. “What do you mean?” Her entire body shook, hands clenched at her sides as if about to boil.

  James leaned down to her as Lily wailed into Cael’s arms.

  Who is Chase?

  Cael firmed his lips while James’s quivered, but he drew his gaze to Wyatt’s. “Chase is our son.”

  A child? Wyatt’s expressions must have been clear as shock ran through him. Whose? Charley’s? With James? His mind ran through the gamut of questions.

  “Where is he?” As Candie, she stood toe to toe with him. Her fingers gripped his forearms. “Where is he?” Her voice broke.

  “They don’t know.”

  Unsure of his role but still aware of her impact on him moments before, Wyatt opted to leave logic behind. He put his hands on Charley’s shoulders.

  She sucked in a breath. “What about Sophie?”

  “Sophie is missing, too,” James said.

  Charley shook her head, turned to Wyatt, grabbed his jacket and leaned her forehead against him. She breathed in deep again and released air. Lily’s sniffles continued.

  “Tell me he ran away. This is a joke. Some stupid ploy.” Charley whispered with a pain so clear the hair on Wyatt’s arms stood on end.

  Memories of long ago—the one time in his life he’d had the same emotion—a time he’d buried and ensured he’d never go through again.

  James shook his head.

  “This cannot be happening.” Her voice hitched, and she pulled at her hair. “Sophie was there to take care of him.” She whipped a hand out.

  “They don’t know anything, Charley.” Even James struggled with the words, his voice cracking with each answer.

  “I can make some calls,” Wyatt said

  Charley’s voice broke. “Don’t leave me.” She clung to him—a lifeline that would break if he let go.

  “I won’t leave.” He held her with one hand while he fished in his pocket for his cell. Her pain disconcerted him. Wyatt wanted to comfort but didn’t know how much he could, or should, offer. She’d become a part of his life through an investigation that she’d completed. If he could offer her some consolation, he would, but they’d part ways. She’d agreed and done more than he should have asked. He’d do the same.

  “They could be wrong,” he said, though the scowl James made told him otherwise.

  “They believe it’s a kidnapping, Charley, but with Sophie missing—” James ran a hand over his head. “Nothing is amiss at the house that anyone—only we’ll be able to tell.” He relayed the information as if he’d read it on the front page of a newspaper.

  Charley’s lips trembled as she turned and poked her finger into James’s chest. Wyatt let go when James pulled her into himself.

  “Wyatt?” James called over her head. “Please leave. Cael? Take Lily. Call the Sheriff. Find out everything you can while we pack. Wyatt, if you care at all about Charley, go. Now.”

  “No,” Wyatt said.

  James closed his eyes, tilted his head, and opened them again. “There are things you don’t understand. Charley is going to need some time … to herself.”

  “She asked me to stay.”

  “Wyatt?” James’s stare penetrated deep in Wyatt’s mind.

  What does he see?

  “Everything you’ve ever understood could be altered in one single moment, do you understand? For our sakes, you’ll need to keep it completely under wraps. Is that clear?”

  Wyatt wanted to grab Charley and pull her back into his embrace. When she’d kissed him, he’d desired her with intensity. When she clung to him, he’d been empowered.

  “No, but yes.”

  James nodded once at him, l
eaning into Charley’s hair—the same way Wyatt had moments before. The sweetness in her had reached deep within him to memories that had evaporated. He’d always known smells had power. Could they last sixteen years?

  “Let it go, Charley.” James whispered the words. “Let it go.”

  “But—” She whispered back.

  James returned his gaze to Wyatt’s. “It’s okay.”

  Her entire form trembled again—the smallest of movements but a shimmer nonetheless.

  “Wha—” Wyatt began but James stopped him with a shake of his head.

  James held her tight in his arms with an intimacy Wyatt expected of lovers. As he watched, the blonde hair he’d let fall through his fingers like rain disappeared. An ink-black hue took over.

  This cannot be happening.

  Wyatt took a step backward but stopped at James’s defiant glare.

  Charley’s breath calmed but broke in fits and spurts. With each intake, more change took shape. The side of her face stretched; her fingers shrunk, as did her legs. She no longer fit in the silver-blue outfit she’d walked in with; it hung from her frame like cooked spaghetti.

  He watched the woman he’d met hours before—who’d become someone else for him—return.

  “Get over here.” James’s clipped command hit him.

  Wyatt hesitated.

  “Now!” The man had a boom of a voice.

  Wyatt scrambled close.

  He shifted Charley toward Wyatt. “Just hold her. Up, down, whatever, just keep her in your arms.”

  Wyatt hesitated again, and James shook his head as he moved Charley’s limp body into Wyatt’s arms. Her long dark hair draped across his forearm.

  “What do I do?”

  “Just hold her. She needs calm and rest after something that drastic.” James began to walk to the other room.

  “How long?” Wyatt looked up at him.

  “Does it matter?”

  He shook his head as James left, dragged himself to the edge of the bed, and sat with her in his lap. One finger stroked Charley’s forehead, twisted in a length of one of her curls. Asleep? Unconscious? He didn’t know, but in his arms, she reminded him of a girl he’d known and lost. Her laugh, her touch, and the feel of her skin under his fingertips—all reminded him of her.