Undercover Agent

by Slade, Heather

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, stroking my hair.

  “I missed you so much, Mom. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

  “What’s this?” she said, just like my dad had, and then looked at my head.

  “You two are so much alike. Minor cut,” I said, pointing to where the bandage covered the staples.

  My mother shook her head and took my hand. “Come in and eat. You’re getting far too skinny.”

  After lunch, Dad went for a walk on the beach, leaving Mom and I alone in the kitchen.

  “Why are you really here, Emme?” she asked.

  I put my head in my hands, wondering how so many people could figure out what I was thinking and feeling without my saying a word about it. First Tommy, then Lynx, and now my mother.

  “I needed a break.”

  She shook her head. “Try again.”

  “I’ve been working such long hours, and quite frankly, I’m beginning to burn out.”

  My mother kept her gaze steady on me while she drummed her fingers on the table.

  “All right,” I sighed, knowing how relentless she could be. “Three years ago, when I was in London for that conference…you know…”

  “Yes, I know,” she said, motioning for me to go on.

  Thankful that it wasn’t necessary to mention it was when my brother overdosed, I took a deep breath. “I met someone.”

  “And?”

  “We didn’t exactly stay in touch.”

  My mother smiled and tilted her head. “Emme…too much time has passed for you to tell me you’re pregnant, so get to it. What’s happened?”

  “I ran into him yesterday. At my building, and, well, later at the office. And then I hit my head and needed staples, so he called his friend. It was actually his cousin, who was at MIT for a conference. Later we went to his house for dinner, and I met his wife—his cousin’s wife that is—who’s really such a lovely person. Someone I hope I can be friends with. And—”

  “Stop!” My mother held up one hand. “Repeat the part where you ran into him yesterday at your building. Then you can tell me about the staples.”

  I covered my face with my hands, wishing I could avoid talking about Lynx. Talking about him required thinking about him, and that wasn’t something I wanted to do.

  “Emerson?”

  “I’m trying to decide where to start.”

  15

  Lynx

  When I returned to Saint’s apartment, Decker was huddled with my brother, Rile, and Grinder. I didn’t see Irish, and that was fine with me.

  “Anything I can do?” I asked.

  Decker shook his head. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you.”

  As Z had said, we were going off the books for this one. We’d hired a team, and I needed to let them do their job. “I’m going for a walk,” I muttered, not that it appeared anyone had heard me.

  I went across the street to the corner market, where I found Rashid’s father behind the counter like I had yesterday. Had that truly only been twenty-four hours ago? It seemed so much longer.

  “Another chai for Emme?” he asked.

  “Not today, thanks. But I’d like one.”

  He grunted something I couldn’t understand, came around the counter, and walked to the rear of the store.

  “Make it caffeinated,” I hollered after him.

  When he returned a few minutes later, it was with a paper cup instead of the ceramic one that he’d given me for Emerson. That was likely still in Saint’s apartment; I made a mental note to return it later.

  I paid the man and picked up a circular on my way out. There was a park just north, and it was the perfect place for me to take a few minutes to think through the events of the last twenty-four hours.

  Saint was one of my men, and if he were here in front of me, I’d be tempted to fire him. He’d always been a loose cannon, as the saying went, and Z had made it clear he expected me to rein him in. I hadn’t, and that was part of the reason Saint was now missing.

  There were times I considered the man more of an asset than a fellow agent. I’d even made the suggestion to Z that we offer him a reduced role. Z had told me at the time to wait and see how this particular mission went. I suppose we both had our answer.

  Getting involved with Emerson, someone he’d been tasked with turning into an asset, had been reckless. But was what I was doing any less so? Did the fact she and I had shared one passionate night three years ago, somehow give credence to my pursuit of her being any different?

  What I needed more than anything was to sort out how I really felt about her. I’d asked myself before if when I saw her again, she’d live up to my memory. Had she? I couldn’t say for certain. I was so wrapped up in her for the last twenty-four hours that all I could think about was her in my bed, naked and warm, as I buried myself inside the best pussy I’d ever had. Was it really as magical as I remembered it being?

  Maybe I should let her be tonight and go out on the pull. Perhaps getting laid would be the best thing I could do to let go of this obsession I had with Dr. Charles.

  I sat up against the trunk of a tree and skimmed the weekly entertainment guide I’d picked up on my way out of Rashid’s father’s store. It seemed that every bar and pub advertisement was aimed at a crowd far younger than me. So much for going out on the pull.

  I closed my eyes, content to feel the soft breeze on my face as the tree shaded me from the ungodly heat of the city.

  I’d give just about anything to have this mission over and take a holiday, perhaps even staying on in the States for a time. To what end, though? When it was over, Saint would return, and then I’d learn exactly what his relationship with Emerson truly was. If my fears were confirmed, I’d much rather be in England.

  My mobile buzzed, jarring me awake. I must’ve drifted off, but I had no idea for how long.

  “Ready for me?” I asked when I saw the call was from Decker.

  “Lynx, are you aware Dr. Charles is on her way out of town?”

  “What? No, I left her at her apartment,” I looked at my watch, “less than an hour ago.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “On my way.”

  I ran across the street, took the stairs to Saint’s floor rather than wait for the lift, and entered my code. When I walked in, Decker and Irish were in the midst of a heated discussion.

  “Lynx’s driver took her,” I heard Irish say.

  “Took her where?” I asked.

  “To visit her parents.”

  “You didn’t know about this?” Decker asked.

  “Of course I didn’t.” I already had my mobile out and was ringing Mario.

  “He’s your driver, how did you not know?” Irish asked.

  I ignored him and listened as the call went to voicemail. “What did he look like?”

  Irish described the man along with the car while I rang another of my agents, who was also here in Boston.

  “Hi,” she answered.

  “I need transport arranged from Boston to Cape Cod.”

  “Understood. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty.”

  I walked out of the main living area and into Saint’s bedroom, trying to rein in my temper as I did.

  “What’s your plan?” asked Decker, standing in the doorway.

  I ran my hand through my hair and walked over to the window. “I’d like to wring her neck before I bring her back.”

  “You might not want to bring Emerson back right away.”

  I turned my head and studied him. “Why not?”

  He handed me an envelope.

  “What’s this?”

  “Background on Emerson’s father.”

  I opened the envelope, skimmed the first page of the report, and then looked up at Decker, who raised a brow.

  My mind reeled as I processed what I’d just read. Why was I learning of this just now? I answered my own question easily enough—because knowing previously had been above my paygrade.


  I didn’t bother asking Decker how he’d amassed this information—it was accepted throughout the intelligence community that the man was able to find the proverbial needle in the haystack when neither MI6 or the CIA could.

  “Thanks for this,” I said before sliding the document back in the envelope.

  “I’ll brief you on what else we know before you leave.”

  I nodded and followed him out to the main room where he laid out the intelligence they’d received confirming Saint and Dr. Benjamin had been in Hong Kong, but from there, their trail had gone cold.

  “We’ll be in contact when we know more,” he said.

  My mobile buzzed with a text message. “My transport is waiting.” I stood and shook Decker’s hand and then walked over to my brother and put my hand on his shoulder. “Godspeed, Keon.”

  He repeated my motion. “Godspeed, Lennox.”

  It was something we always did whenever we were together and one or both of us were leaving. It began shortly after our parents’ death.

  As I turned to leave, my eyes met Irish’s. I didn’t like what I saw in them, but I didn’t have the time or inclination to deal with that now. He followed me out to the lift.

  “I hardly need an escort,” I snapped at him.

  “I’m going with you.”

  When the lift arrived, I stepped inside, turned around, and stood in the threshold, barring his entry. “You’re doing nothing of the kind.”

  “This is the CIA’s mission as much as it is yours.”

  The level of my temper was equal to what it had been when I was informed Emerson left without my consult or permission. I didn’t owe the man in front of me any kind of explanation, and it was unlike me to parlay information when it wasn’t necessary. However, this agent was becoming a problem, and I needed to set him straight.

  “The CIA’s initial mission was to convert Dr. Charles into an asset in the same way MI6 intended to. Given that the mission was aborted upon the disappearance of one of our assets along with one of our agents, you,” I looked at him pointedly, “are no longer needed.”

  I stepped back, allowing the lift’s doors to close.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly,” I said, getting into the vehicle and closing the door behind me. “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Initially,” the agent, code name Angel, answered.

  I would ask what she meant, but I was still reeling from the combination of Emerson’s reckless action along with Irish’s insubordination. I would ring Copeland, but before I did so, I needed to temper my frustration. I let my head fall against the seat and closed my eyes. I had a great deal to process on a drive that should take a minimum of ninety minutes.

  I opened my eyes when Angel brought the vehicle to a stop and cut the engine.

  “This will be quicker,” she said, pointing to the helipad with a waiting copter.

  Even more surprising than our unexpected mode of transport, was that Angel climbed into the cockpit, handed me a headset, and sat in the pilot’s seat. I shook my head. Teagon Engel, aka Angel, was one of those MI6 agents who, every time I saw her, had acquired yet another skill. “When did you get your pilot’s license?”

  “Just helly for now, mate, but I’m working on the other.”

  “Congratulations, Angel. I’m proud of you.”

  She smiled, and her cheeks flushed.

  “What?” she asked when I continued staring.

  “Nothing.” What I couldn’t tell her, not that she’d care, was that her sweet cheeks did absolutely nothing for me. Emerson’s, it seemed, were it for me.

  “Is this a touch-and-go retrieval, or are you sticking around?” Angel asked through the headset once we were in the air.

  “I’ll be staying, at least for a time.”

  “With Charlie?”

  My eyes opened wide at her use of the nickname. “Do you know her?”

  “No, but Saint talked about her quite a lot.”

  I was not prone to motion sickness, but suddenly, I felt nauseous.

  “What does he say?”

  “You can’t quote me on this.”

  I held up a couple of fingers like some kind of half-assed pledge.

  “He was pretty pissed the last time I saw him. We both were ten sheets gone, actually.”

  “What did he say, Angel?”

  She raised a brow. “Why so anxious?”

  I looked away. “Just tell me.”

  “Now I’m wondering whether I should.”

  Probably wouldn’t be wise to strangle the pilot, considering I didn’t know how to fly one of these things, but I was close.

  “Angel, please.”

  Her eyes scrunched in confusion, but then she shrugged. “Remember, he was absolutely smashed.”

  I nodded.

  “He said, and I quote, ‘someday I’m going to marry that girl.’”

  My nausea was now full-fledged. “Was he serious?”

  “He was drunk, Lynx. I mentioned that three or four times.”

  “I know, but was he serious?”

  Angel shrugged again. “Kind of seemed that way to me.”

  16

  Emerson

  My parents and I were sitting at the dining table, finishing our lunch, when we heard a loud whir. Jumping up, my mother and I ran to one window while my father headed to the back door.

  With wide eyes, I watched as a helicopter landed on the lawn next to our house.

  “Um…could it be someone you know?” I asked as my mother and I followed my dad out onto the back porch.

  He shook his head.

  A door opened, and I watched Lynx climb out. “Never mind,” I mumbled. “He’s here for me.” I continued to watch as he stalked in my direction and the helicopter took off.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked when we stood practically toe-to-toe.

  “I might ask the same of you.”

  I took a step back. “I’m visiting my parents.”

  “Without a bloody word as to your intentions?”

  “Not that I need to explain myself, but I did tell Paxon.”

  “Oh, you told Paxon. It didn’t occur to you to consult with me before gallivanting off for the second time with little regard to your safety?”

  I didn’t care for his raised voice any more than I did the way he was speaking to me. “For the second time?” I shouted back.

  “First, you sneaked out of Saint’s apartment when my back was turned. This time, you left the building as soon as you were out of my sight.”

  “Are you serious? You can’t be—”

  “I’m Rick Charles,” my father said, inserting himself into our heated conversation. “This is my wife, Rebecca.”

  “Lennox Edgemon,” Lynx said, extending his hand to my mother first and then my father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am, sir.” He smiled at them, but when he turned back to me, he scowled.

  “Is this the young man from London?” asked my mother, feigning innocence, but I was onto her.

  “Yes,” I seethed, my hands in fists at my sides.

  “Come,” my father said, escorting Lynx inside while I stood frozen where I was.

  “Close your mouth, Emme,” my mother scolded before following.

  “Your home is lovely,” I heard Lynx say when I came in and slammed the door behind me.

  “Emme will give you a tour while I make us something to eat,” said my mom, ignoring my bad manners and motioning us out of her way. I knew better than to remind her that we’d finished lunch less than thirty minutes ago.

  “Can I get anyone a drink?” my dad asked, motioning for us to follow him out onto the porch.

  “I could use one,” I said, raising my hand and glaring at Lynx.

  “I’m making street tacos,” my mother hollered at us.

  “Street tacos?” I mouthed to my father, who shrugged.

  “Margaritas, then?” my dad asked.

  “Add a little extra tequila to mine, please.”

>   My father rolled his eyes. “Show your friend around, Emme. I’ll deliver your cocktails in a few minutes.”

  Without thinking, I took Lynx by the hand and led him down the steps and out onto the beach.

  I dropped his hand, spun around, and folded my arms. “Why are you here?”

  “You left without permission.”

  “Permission?” I seethed.

  Lynx stepped closer and got right in my face. “You are in danger, Emerson, and it is my responsibility to keep you safe. You left without a word after I’d expressly said that if you needed anything, I was down the hall.”

  I took a step back and put my hands on my hips. “First, you insinuate yourself into my life after a simple cut on my head. Then, you insist you’re personally responsible for my safety when you aren’t even sure I’m in danger.”

  “I hardly insinuated myself into your life. You were concussed, and I stayed to make sure your condition didn’t worsen. Like then, I’m here now in order to ensure your safety. I have no intention of letting anything happen to you, Emerson, whether you like it or not.”

  “Why?” He was close enough that if I moved even a fraction of an inch, our lips would touch.

  “Because.”

  I couldn’t hide my smile. “Because why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  Our stare-off continued until I turned away and sat in one of the Adirondack chairs that overlooked the bay. He sat in another.

  “Why are you really here, Lynx?”

  He took a long time to answer. “I was worried,” he eventually said, almost too quietly for me to hear.

  “Am I really in danger?”

  He turned toward me, his green eyes piercing mine. “Whether I’m certain you are or not, I cannot take the risk.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “The men you met this morning will locate Saint and Dr. Benjamin by any means necessary.”

  I loved that he knew what I was asking even though a minute ago we’d been arguing. “What can I do?”

  “Give those doing the job the time and space to do it.”

  “How can you be so calm?”

  “I’ve been where they are, and I know firsthand how badly things can go when someone interferes.”