by Zoey Oliver
I slide myself off of him, though he seems hesitant to let me go. I laugh, exhausted. “So, how long were you out here waiting for me to wake up?” I ask.
“Too long.” Pierce grabs me by the waist and rolls me onto my back. We tumble on to the glass floor and Pierce ends up back on top of me. “I’ve been thinking about it since I woke up and saw you laying there in the morning sun, asleep, glowing, and beautiful.”
I try to hide a grin. “Funny you should mention the word ‘glowing’ actually.”
Pierce raises an eyebrow and surveys me with curious eyes. “Oh?”
“Well, right before the wedding, I was feeling queasy. Sick. I started to worry that maybe something was wrong again. That I was going to need to go back to Manhattan to my doctors. But then I realized…”
Pierce sits up. He’s catching on, and his face is practically on fire with excitement. “You realized?”
“I was late. So, the concierge picked me up a pregnancy test.”
“And?” he asks, practically jumping out of his skin.
“We’re pregnant,” I answer, trying to stifle my smile. When I look up, Pierce looks like he’s about to explode. He laughs happily and picks me up in the air, spinning me around and around until we are both dizzy and giggling. When he puts me down, he kisses me long and slow, then pulls away and brushes my hair out of my face.
“You’re my family now, Arie. And I’m going to make sure you, and Chloe, and whoever else the universe brings us, will be safe forever. I love you, Arie.”
And when he pulls me into his arms, the warmth of the Fijian sun beating down on us and the gentle lapping of the waves filling out ears, I believe him.
Epilogue
One Year Later
“Congratulations on the addition to your family, Mr. Cochran. We heard you and your lovely wife welcome twins.”
Spencer James and the man I’ve come to know as Rufus are sitting across from my desk in our Auckland office. I look at the picture sitting across from me: Chloe on the beach with our twins, Layla and Beckett, and my heart swells. Chloe may look like me, but the twins are the spitting image of Arie, and together, we make a perfect family. I peek over the men across from me, and see Arie sitting at the reception desk. She was going crazy at home, so we got a nanny for the kids and now she works in the office with me. As if she knows I’m watching her, she turns her head and gives me a wink, then goes back to answering one of the dozens of emails we get every day, asking for our services.
While we take on the occasional side case, then contract out to another local security firm, my main business is what Spencer and Rufus brought me over a year ago. And it was a doozy. The men were the head of the Worldwide Securities Agency, or WSA, a privatized offshoot of the CIA. They were a group of elite former Marines and SEALs and “secret agents” who were hired to take on missions too intense for any federal government to handle. Sometimes, the cases were so covert, a government might not even know about them. But they were always too dangerous to risk the lives of anyone who was considered a “volunteer.” So that is where we come in.
For the last year, Cochran Securities LTD has been putting together a private, select collection of men and women who travel across the globe, helping solve issues that the average person never even hears about. From our base in Auckland, we assist the WSA in finding agents to help complete their missions. My job isn’t just to find the agents; I help them plan, organize, and do damage control, accounting for any eventuality and strategize future missions. It’s an amazing, rewarding, and challenging job, and I can never allow myself to devalue its importance.
Arie has also proven to be an invaluable part of our CSL branch in Auckland. I always knew she was brilliant, but over the last few months, she has shown me that she is a wiz at mapping and charting. Every time I think I have figured out the best course for a planned mission, she shows up and within five seconds, she’s found a safer, more efficient course. I couldn’t even begin to guess how many lives she’s saved, or how much money. She calls herself my receptionist, but she’s much more… and she knows it.
I realize I’ve been staring at Arie when Spencer clears his throat. “Mr. Cochran?”
“Yes! Sorry. You were saying?”
“Well, first, we wanted to thank you for saving our asses in with that thing in Tasmania. Not sure our guys would have made it out without your help.”
I nod. “That’s our job.”
“Now, we need to ask you for something else,” Rufus says with a stern look. I try and keep my poker face. There is no telling what these men want from me. It could be anything. Literally.
“Go ahead.”
Rufus sets a chubby hand on my desk. “Mr. Cochran, we’d like you and your wife to start doing some field work. Getting out there in the muck, so to speak.”
I don’t remotely intend to laugh out loud, but that is exactly what happens. I actually laugh loudly enough to draw Arie’s attention from the front of the office. Laughter isn’t generally something she hears coming from meetings with the men from WSA.
“What the hell are you talking about? We can’t go out in the field. My leg never properly healed from the injury I sustained in service and Arie isn’t trained in… anything. What could you possibly want us to do in the field?”
Spencer gives me a very serious raised eyebrow. “Mr. Cochran, we know full well that your wife is the brains behind your mission charting. And she’s exceptional. Training or no training, she has an instinct that can’t be taught. And you may be injured, but the fact you think that means you are sidelined from the game permanently? That’s just disappointing.”
I sit back, processing what he’s just said. “So, explain to me what it is you want us to do. What you think we can do.”
“Track and report only. You will travel to wherever we tell you and collect whatever information we need. Maybe follow a target. Maybe gather some intel. Maybe just map out a mission that we’re planning before we go boots on the ground. Nothing that would put either of you in any immediate danger. But we feel that your unique talents are being wasted in an office. Both of your unique talents.”
I can’t even begin to guess how Arie is going to respond to this. “Can we have some time to consider it?”
They stand up at the same time, and nod at the same time. “You have twenty-four hours. Same as last time.”
Before I even have a chance to follow them out to the waiting area, they have completely disappeared from the office.
“How do they DO that? How do they just… vanish like that?” I ask Arie, who is eyeballing me. But Arie is looking at me with a very defined scowl.
“Forget that. What exactly do you have twenty-fours to decide? What is going on now?”
I look at her and chuckle. “Oh, right. Well. How would you like to be a spy?” I ask with a wink. Arie chokes on the mouthful of coffee she just swallowed.
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Spencer and Rufus have asked us to become, well, field agents of sort. Nothing high-risk. No espionage. Well, light espionage. Travel to some exotic countries, gather intel, maybe steal the occasional priceless antiquity and sell it on the black market.” I think I’m hilarious, but Arie isn’t laughing.
“Pierce, don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t even finish college. I am your receptionist. I am not remotely qualified to be any kind of field agent. And what about you? Your leg is just starting to heal! You want to risk your progress for what?”
“Adventure? Intrigue? A chance to travel on someone else’s dime?” I know I shouldn’t be joking because Arie is worked up, but I can’t help it. I’ve been in this situation before, and I know in the end, she is going to side with me. The allure of the unknown is just too great. But she is still frowning at me.
“That’s fine for you, but what about the kids? Layla and Beckett are babies, and Chloe… I can’t leave her again. What if she thinks this is the time I leave her for good? I don’t want our kids to end up
orphans, Pierce.”
I cross over and sit on the desk next to her. “We’re not talking about parachuting behind enemy lines in a war zone, Arie. It’s basically analysis work in the field. Some traveling. Occasionally following a few bad people and seeing where they are headed. And I promise you, we will never be away from the kids for more than a long weekend.”
Arie scrunches up her face and crosses her arms over her chest. Then she starts thinking, and she thinks for so long, I’m pretty sure the twenty-four-hour deadline might pass. When she finally speaks, she actually startles me.
“And you promise me we’ll never be away from the kids for more than four days at a time?”
I nod. “I promise. And we’ll bring them back lovingly-curated knick-knacks from every trip.”
Arie shrugs. “Okay then, let’s do it.”
My jaw drops. “Really? Just like that?”
“Well, not just like that. We’ll have to work out a lot of details and prepare for every eventuality, but we should at least try it. I think we’ll regret it if we don’t give it a shot, you know?”
I grab her, sweep her up in my arms, and give her a huge, long, kiss. I really am the luckiest man in the world, to have a wife who is so brave, so utterly fearless. When I put her back on the ground, I kiss her again.
“You deserve this, you know. You are brilliant, and capable, and this is your chance to shine.”
Arie stretches up and gives me another kiss. “I do all the shining I need to with you.”
Just as I’m considering taking her into my office and really making her glow, the phone in my jacket pocket rings. The phone that only Spencer and Rufus have access to. I look at Arie with a smile.
“Ready for our next adventure, Mrs. Cochran?”
She winks. “I was born ready, Mr. Cochran.”
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Copyright © 2018 by Zoey Oliver and Jess Bentley
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Jess and Zoey
Chapter 1
HENRY
“Man, I’ve missed this place. Missed you, too. I’m looking forward to catching up with you,” Spencer says, looking around the royal gardens. “It’s been too long.”
I pick up a black pebble from among the white stones of the garden path and toss it into the air, catch it, and toss it again. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t go skipping off to the other side of the world for months, chasing wild women,” I tease him.
“Like you’re one to talk.”
“What was her name again? Carly?”
My best friend shakes his head with a wry grin. “Candy.”
I let out a chuckle and whip the pebble with an underhanded toss at a bronze statue to my left. It zips through the air and makes a sharp ping sound as it hits the metal. “Seriously, man. What were you thinking?”
Spencer shrugs. “I was thinking… I don’t know. I wanted to try something different. Just go with the flow and see where it takes me. Be a beach bum for a while.”
“Actually, sounds perfect. Why’d you come back?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “It wasn’t for me. Eventually, I got bored of her.”
I catch the hint of something in his voice. Not boredom. Has Spencer hitched his horse to the adult wagon and decided to grow up? Some of us don’t have much of a choice...
We round a bend on the path, and to the right, through the trees, I see a line of cars pulled up to the main entrance of my palace. But that’s not what catches my eye.
“Hey,” I say, throwing my left hand up, landing it squarely in the middle of Spencer’s chest, causing him to expel a huff of air and come to an abrupt halt. “Who is that?”
He whips his head around. “Where? Who?”
I nod toward the front of the palace where an entourage is emerging from black town cars and limos, people spilling out onto the grass and stone walkway. “There, her.”
My gaze is fixated on a curvy young woman with a waterfall of thick, black hair spilling across her shoulders and down her back.
I watch as she smooths her dress regally and gestures at a stack of luggage sitting beside a vintage Rolls Royce. The suitcases and trunks are immediately picked up and carried into the palace by several men wearing my family’s livery — burgundy and gold three-piece suits.
Spencer steps forward and squints in the direction of the activity. “Uh, that’s Abi.”
I give him a push. “Yeah, right. No, really, who is that? I’ve never seen her before. And believe me, I’d remember.”
Spencer gives me sideways look. “Henry, I think you still have a hangover from last night.” He points emphatically at the woman. “That is Abigail.”
“Nooo… your sister? Little Abi? Annoying-as-shit Abi?”
My mouth falls open in disbelief. No way. There is no way that gorgeous woman — with graceful posture and sexy curves for days — is Spencer’s little sister. It can’t be Abi… not the tomboy covered in muck from playing in the garden ponds… the goofy kid who followed us everywhere and hid in credenzas to spy on her brother and myself… the frizzy-haired teenage tattletale who told on us when we snuck down to the boathouse to smoke cigarettes.
That was Abi. Not this raven-haired vixen giving out orders with poised confidence like she owns the place.
“Not so little anymore, is she? Still annoying as all hell, though,” Spencer says with a chuckle.
“Uh, no… she’s… definitely grown up. I mean, she’s… got…” I motion with my hands, swirling them in front of me to show an hourglass figure, and Spencer immediately whacks me across the back of my neck.
“Dammit, Henry. I don’t want to hear about that. And you — don’t get any ideas.”
I drop my hands to my sides, but I can’t stop staring at her, despite feeling Spencer’s disapproving gaze on me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my eyes tracking Abigail’s every move. “I’m practically celibate.”
My best friend nearly chokes on his laugh. “Right, Henry. Try selling that story somewhere else.”
“Sold it to The Inquirer last week, right after I did body shots off those twins from Doremont,” I say with a cocky grin.
It’s a lie, but Spencer doesn’t know that. It’s a lie that has credence, because that’s the guy I used to be, back when Spencer and I were inseparable. Now? I haven’t left the palace grounds in months except for official engagements. My nights of non-stop partying and seducing a new woman at every opportunity — those things seem like a lifetime ago.
The entourage makes its way up the wide marble steps to the grand entrance of the palace. Abi pauses and leans to the woman on her left, whispering something in her ear before continuing up the steps. I wonder what she’s saying… what her hair smells like… what her breathy sighs of pleasure would feel like against my skin.
Spencer rests a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been right there beside you, my friend. Between the two of us, we’ve divided and conquered this continent.” He nods toward his sister. “But she is off-limits.”
Oh, fuck me. Why did he have to say that? He might as well double-dog dared me. Spencer knows better than anyone that I’m relentless as hell and I always get what I want — especially if I’m not supposed to have it.
“I didn’t think she’d be arriving until tomorrow,” Spencer says.
> “What’s she doing here?”
“Attending the harvest festival. Are you sure you’re not hungover?”
“No, I mean, she hasn’t come to one in years.”
“She’s been away at boarding school and then at university.”
“Ah, yes. But she hasn’t visited during summer or holidays. It’s been, what?” I try to remember the last time Abi visited the palace and do a quick calculation in my head. “Wow, seven years since I’ve seen Abi. She was a lanky kid with braces and wild hair the last time I saw her.”
“She’s graduated now, with her Master’s degree. She finished prep school and her college program early. She’s whip-smart, that one. But anyway, my parents insisted she come this year.”
“It’ll be nice to catch up with her,” I say.
Spencer shoots me a warning look, but I shrug innocently and give him a Cheshire Cat grin. “Whaaat?”
“She’s gotten serious about settling down, so my mother’s decided the palace festival is the perfect opportunity for her to entertain potential suitors.”
“Oh.” I think on this for a moment as I watch Abi begin walking up the wide, stone pathway, her elegant dress hugging her curvy body in all the right ways.
I tear my eyes away from the mesmerizing sight for a second and squint into the sun to glance at Spencer. “So… she’s settling down? As in getting married? Why so soon?”
“She’s twenty-two. It’s not unheard of to get married at her age, Henry. My parents, and yours, too — they were all married younger than that.”
“True, but it was a different time then.”
“Maybe not so different.” He sighs heavily, and a look flashes across his face, accompanied by that same tone as before that I can’t quite put my finger on.
