The Spy Ring
by Elizabeth Lynx
Cake Love book 4
The Spy Ring
Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Lynx.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact:
[email protected]
http://www.elizabeth-lynx.com
Book and Cover design by Elizabeth Lynx
Photography by ikostudio
DEDICATION
To all the loving and devoted parents of the little superheroes in the world…their special needs children.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Spy Ring
DEDICATION
TABLE OF CONTENTS
STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
NOTE TO READERS
BEHIND THE SCENES
PEEK INSIDE: RULES OF PAYNE
PEEK INSIDE: THE ATTRACTION FILE
PEEK INSIDE: ONE WILD RIDE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ELIZABETH LYNX’S BOOKS
THANK YOU
What happened in Vegas didn’t always stay in Vegas.
Tiffany Blackburn couldn’t believe what occurred during her recent vacation in Vegas. The careful, single mom decided to let loose and took a risk for once, allowing a man to buy her a whiskey sour. Regretting it the moment she woke up alone in a stranger’s bed the next day. Naked.
It only got worse, when she tried to sneak out and discovered something he left on the table.
His wedding ring.
Jagger Chance never failed to deliver when he was working undercover as a spy for the government. Women found him sexy and mysterious, which the loner preferred. He was happy to take risks bringing down notorious criminals but never with his heart.
Until one night in Vegas, after a lot of drinks and a beautiful woman too sweet to resist, suddenly risking his heart to say ‘I do’ didn’t seem like a bad idea.
STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX
Cake Love Series
The Payne in the Blog (FREE)
Rules of Payne (Kindle Unlimited/Limited time – FREE)
The Attraction File (Kindle Unlimited/Limited time- only 0.99 cents)
One Wild Ride (Kindle Unlimited)
The Spy Ring
Him Her Them Series
Her Night with Him
Get latest alerts, releases, sales, and exclusive stories (like the Dirty Hands serial) by signing up for Elizabeth Lynx’s newsletter. READ the inspiration for Dirty Hands that was a finalist in a short story contest INSTANTLY http://bit.ly/NwsltrDHinspire
ONE
Tiffany
“He’s flipping married?”
I whisper screamed as I fisted the thick, smooth band of gold.
It had weight. It’s funny how I noticed that little tidbit instantly but never realized the man I slept with last night was married.
At least, I think we had sex. My stomach began to churn as I tried to recall anything from the night before. Nothing but throbbing head pain and something about a whiskey sour sucker punched my brain.
Ugh, I couldn’t even remember the guy’s face.
Wow, Tiffany, you can’t even do your first one-night stand right.
I shook my head and glanced around the stranger’s hotel room. It was a much bigger version of my room. The same soothing lavender and gray color scheme but somehow knowing this guy had bank in order to afford this big suite in Las Vegas did nothing to appease my nausea. Or my guilt.
Was it my imagination or was the ring burning an O into my palm? O for odious because that’s how I felt and, lifting my arm to take a whiff under my pit, that’s definitely how I smelled. Flipping the ring over, the inscription made all thoughts of the big O disappear as my throat tightened. Honor always. Protect fully. Love forever.
“What a crock of gobbledygook,” I said giving the ring the stink eye.
The hot hands of remorse spread boney fingers around my neck and across my chest.
“I’m not the one that cheated,” I said to the ring.
The burning guilt had to end.
Stop blaming yourself, Tiffany. He’s the one that cheated, not you. You don’t have a husband anymore, remember?
I dropped the wedding band and it made a clanking sound, bouncing on the wood of the coffee table. The stabbing behind my right eye grew in strength from the joke he obviously believed his marriage to be. The pun where I played the fool to satisfy his needs.
A woman placed this beautiful ring on his finger believing him to be her savior, her true love, and the man who would never deceive her. And that meant nothing to him.
I’m done. Bile inched up my throat, making me desperate to find my clothes so I could get out of this den of sin before the guy got out of the shower. It was nice to feel some relief this morning knowing he was in the bathroom when I woke. I was thankful I never had to put a face to my shame.
All my friends, except for Evaleen, told me I needed to get laid. Since my husband was gone, I haven’t been able to find the time or the heart, to be with another man.
It had been too long. That’s why when I came to Las Vegas for the weekend with my friends, I thought it was the perfect time to have a no-strings-attached fling.
Wrong.
They were wrong. I was wrong.
The only thing the night left me with was nausea, terrible remorse, and breath so bad it could be used to bring down a small elephant.
As much as I needed a drink of water and a hot shower to clean off my regret, I had to find my clothes.
One of my red leather heels was under the coffee table and after further inspection, I found the other behind the lavender couch. After a few minutes of hunting, I had gathered all my clothes, even my green lace undies that were wrapped around the telephone.
I dressed quickly—if not clumsily—and thought maybe I should be glad I couldn’t remember anything.
As I closed the door to his room behind me and stumbled my way toward the elevator, I considered turning back to leave a note. But then I imagined what I would write in my current mental state.
Hey You,
Yeah, you know who you are so let’s not play that game where I impress you with my ability to recall your name. I’m the one you had sex with last night. I’d like to say it was great but since I was blackout drunk, I won’t comment on what I don’t know.
And that brings me to a very important point . . . Why did YOU take advantage of an obviously drunk woman? Were you blac
kout drunk yourself? I am hoping you were because if you ever see me again, like walking down the street, I wish upon all the wishes in the world that you don’t recognize me. That way last night can turn into a forgotten memory.
All the Best,
Tiffany
P.S. I don’t really want to give you my last name for fear you might look me up. I have a kid, and I don’t want him finding out that his mom had blackout sex with a stranger.
In the end, I figured the letter wouldn’t make anyone happy. He might have remembered me and been disappointed I didn’t.
What if he found me in the lobby of the hotel and explained what had gone down? I might not like what I heard or, even more disconcerting and probable, I could throw up on him while screaming about forsaking his vows to his wife.
Therefore, I felt the note wasn’t necessary but a shower and tooth brushing certainly were.
Once I went down two floors and made it to my room, I came inside and leaned back on the cool metal door in relief.
“Oh good, you’re back. Can I borrow a shirt? I threw up on all mine,” Evaleen said as she popped her head around the corner with a queasy smile on her face.
The lingering stench of vomit in the room had me running to the bathroom before I could answer her question.
After upchucking liquid orange and wondering what I drank last night, I sat on the cool white tiles of the bathroom.
“We’re a pair. Maybe we should take a bet and see who can make it through the plane ride back to Chicago without barfing,” Evaleen said as she stood over me in a stained blue T-shirt and sweatpants.
Her usually perfect blond chignon was disheveled with some strands of hair sticking to her face. She held out her hand to assist me and I took it. I put my other hand on the toilet seat to get up, thinking I was helping but realizing too late it only worsened the situation.
Having forgotten I lifted the seat to empty my stomach, I shrieked at the cold, clammy toilet rim. My arm flew back from shock and I smacked it on the counter.
Evaleen almost fell when I pulled too hard on her hand but managed to catch herself by twisting her foot. By the time I finally stood, both of us were out of breath. I was nursing a swollen finger and she was rubbing her pained ankle.
“I’ll take that bet and add, whoever makes it back puke free and without any broken bones, wins,” I said.
She laughed. I laughed. We sounded more like geese dying.
“I need a shower,” I said pulling at my gross dress as it stuck to me.
I hated feeling sticky.
“And I need a shirt. It seems you have something to give and I have something to give. Maybe we can work out a deal?” Evaleen smirked and tilted her head toward me.
“What do you have to give me?”
“Privacy.”
I shook my head and walked over to the shower, turning on the hot water.
“Just take a shirt from my suitcase. I always over pack just for occasions such as this,” I said as I held my hand under the warming spray.
“You prepare for a pukepocalypse?”
Once I assessed the temperature was a soothing, scalding degree, I turned to Evaleen and helped her out the door. “Of course. I’m a mother.” Then I closed the bathroom door behind her.
Peeling off my disgusting used clothes, I stepped behind the curtain and into a gorgeous hell of skin flaying water.
This must be what heaven felt like, minus the nausea.
As I worked the shampoo into my long, chestnut hair, I tried to recollect how last night happened. Morgana, Aria, and I went to the hotel bar last night. The bartender gave me a drink that a man across the bar had bought me.
But that’s it. I barely remember what the bartender looked like. Was the drink spiked?
It must have been.
How stupid could I be? I’m a mother; I shouldn’t have put myself at risk like that. What if I had gone to bed with a man that wanted to kidnap or murder me? Who would take care of David?
My son was only twelve and with his physical and verbal disabilities, he needed someone to be with him. Someone to make sure he got the treatment and care his body needed, and the love his heart deserved.
It’s terrible enough that the same thing that took his might, also took his father.
He’s finally started to gain that strength back and is becoming independent for the first time in his life. I don’t think there’s a parent prouder of their child than I was of my son. And what do I do to show him how pleased I was, putting my own life at risk so that he could grow up without a father and a mother.
I shut off the water after washing and stepped out of the shower. While drying off, brushing my teeth, and finally putting on a clean gray T-shirt and jeans, I made several decisions.
My son needed a father. If something happened to me, even beyond my control, I had to know he would be taken care of. I needed a man that could protect my son and make sure he got the care he needed.
Another decision, there had to be a better way of finding a man—and future father to my son—than a drunken one-night stand.
The little band of gold that caused all this grief inspired my next decision. I had to, above everything else, make sure the man I chose would honor me. There would be no way I wanted to end up with some fool that would cheat on me like the drunken sleaze I stupidly slept with last night.
And finally, he must love the both of us. I am a woman, I may crave affection from a man from time to time, but I’m also a mother. If that man couldn’t understand the deep love I had for my son, then he wasn’t the man for my family.
There was a knock on the door as I finished pulling my hair back into a ponytail.
“Yes?” I said raising my voice so Evaleen could hear me.
“You ready to catch a plane back home? Morgana’s here. It’s time to leave,” Evaleen said from the other side.
I smiled for the first time today. Excited, I was going to see my son in a few hours.
As I opened the door to the steamy room, I nodded at Evaleen who had miraculously transformed into her perfectly coiffed self with the help of my pink T-shirt.
“Yes, I’m ready to go home.”
I felt strong in my decisions, knowing they would be good for my son and me.
TWO
Jagger
“Take a Chance . . . on me.” Tennessee bent over in his swivel chair with a full belly laugh.
My eyes slid to my partner. He was wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. His breath was coming in gasps as his laughter dulled.
“Oh, man, that joke never gets old,” he said with a stammer still trying to ease back the chuckle.
“It’s definitely old,” I said trying to finish the paperwork so I could leave a little early.
I had tickets to an improv show at IO theater in Wrigleyville with Cate. Good old Cate. I smiled at the thought of making my fuck buddy come on my cock in her office above the theater.
The great thing about Cate, she was boring. I don’t mean her personality but her life. A squeaky-clean history and no outstanding debt.
There was no way she could be bribed and give me away. Not that she knew anything about me. I told her once I worked downtown and that’s all she cared to hear.
Bonus points to her for not wanting a relationship. In the line of work I did, a relationship just brought desk duty.
And who wanted that? I didn’t. Sure, it sounded nice to one day have someone to come home to or discuss problems with, maybe binge-watch a television series. But I worked over a decade to get where I was in the government. That love stuff could wait.
Besides, relationships, even family, weren’t always what you hoped they’d be. I learned people were selfish from my job, giving up on their loved ones when things got tough.
“Here, I have a good one you might like,” Tenn said as I tapped away on my keyboard and continued to ignore him. “Why was everyone so tired of April first?”
He’s not going to stop until I acknowledge him.
That was the thing about Tenn, he craved attention. He should be up on that stage tonight trying to be funny with how much he performed for everyone. Of course, Tenn wasn’t adult funny. He’s five-year-old funny. Perhaps he should perform for kids’ birthday parties like a clown or a pony.
“Because it isn’t funny?” I asked.
Like that joke he was telling. But that didn’t stop him. I could almost smell his eagerness. There was a gleam at the corner of his mouth, and I wondered if it was drool.
“No. Because they had just finished a March of thirty-one days!” He dissolved into laughter before he could get out the last word, his blond hair falling onto his face.
The door to our shared office opened, and a petite woman with short graying black hair and the boxiest looking jacket I had ever seen stood in the doorway.
I felt both fear and relief at the same time.
“Chance, I need to see you in my office. Now.” Katlin Chester’s deep voice clattered the window on our door before she turned and walked off.
“Uh oh, is there a chance you’re in trouble with the boss.” Tenn chuckled but stopped once I glared at him.
I stood and turned to him before I left. “You know Jagger Chance isn’t my real name. Just as Tennessee Golden isn’t your real name. The government gave us all aliases when we started working at the Inter-Terrorism Agency, yet you keep making fun of what they gave me. Why?”
He shrugged. “Because you’re my partner. I always joke around with people I like. My therapist tells me it’s a defense mechanism. I don’t let people close to me and keep them at a distance with my jokes.”
“Personal or Randy?” I asked.
“Personal.”
Everyone here had to meet once a month with our in-house psychologist, Dr. Randy Tenner. Randy worked for the government to make sure the stress of the job hadn’t gotten to us and we could still do our missions.
“Tell your therapist to try to work with you on better jokes,” I said before turning to leave.
The Spy Ring (Cake Love Book 4) Page 1
