She looked him up and down. He might be easy on the eyes, but he’d have to act like she mattered to him, and she didn’t see that happening.
“If anyone mentions it, we’ll laugh it off as a screw-up,” Kane assured her. “Better that than the rumor mill whispering that you’re a cheater. You’d draw too much attention.”
The knot tightened. She could try to lie to herself, but he was right. She sighed and took a seat on a worn, marble bench, mentally kicking herself. “Agreed” she said with a tight nod.
Kane sat next to her, hands on his knees and oblivious to her remorse. “Think you can convince them of that? That someone made a mistake?”
She could convince them the moon was made of cheese if needed. “Of course. The question is, can you?” she asked. She tucked her foot under her knee so she could face him. “I hate to say it, but you’re not a good actor.”
He sighed. “I know.” Now he was the one looking disappointed. She’d screwed up the op for both of them, she realized. He wanted to play her fiancé about as much as she wanted him to.
Why didn’t he want her?
It was one thing for her to not want to pose as his lover, but she didn’t like getting the same from him. She crossed her arms, surprised at the sudden heat rushing through her body. “You can’t lie. You suck at it,” she said, the words harsher than she’d meant them to sound.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Which is why I will be relying on you to help me. Carry the conversation. Step in if you see me struggling.”
Great. “Think you’ll struggle?”
“Let’s hope not. The operation is already in jeopardy.”
And it was her fault. She uncrossed her arms. “Stick to the truth as much as possible. It helps. Plus, it’s easier to remember.”
“Thanks,” he smiled at her, and for a brief beat, she believed the caring and energy behind the grin. He continued, “I know you don’t want to do this. Neither do I, but we’ll get through it.”
He didn’t want to do this?
The simmering anger flared again. Why did it matter what he thought of her?
She knew the answer even as she asked herself the question.
Her past. The years of travel and being home-schooled. When she was twelve, the troop had taken a two-month hiatus, and she’d asked to attend “real school.” Her mother hadn’t liked it but had finally agreed.
It had been awful. She didn’t fit in. Her clothes were wrong. Her speech wrong. She didn’t have a dad—and it wasn’t because of divorce. That would be normal. It was because he was dead. Died when she was a toddler and his magic act went horribly wrong—the breakaway handcuffs didn’t break. So instead of escaping the “Box of Doom,” also known as a small water tank, he drowned, breaking her mother’s heart and leaving her with only vague memories of a man who used to make her laugh.
When their troop had left the area, it had been a relief. It wasn’t until high school that she’d tried again, but this time she played it smart. She watched the popular clique. Dressed like they did. Copied their mannerisms.
As ashamed as she was to admit it—she’d even teased the same people they did.
Teased people like her. The real her.
It wasn’t long before she’d become cool. Girls wanted to be her. Boys wanted to date her.
Of course, that was until they met her family and realized she was a freak who hadn’t fallen far from the freak tree.
But the stratagem she’d used in high school had been the beginning of her true calling.
Now, here she was, annoyed that Kane wasn’t falling over his feet like a high schooler. That he didn’t admire her. Her animosity was illogical. Foolish.
And it wasn’t going away.
God help her, she wanted Kane to like her.
…
Holly stared at him like he’d grown horns, and he had no idea why.
What he did know was that her blue-eyed stare was unnerving as hell.
He retrieved his phone, hiding his confusion. It had taken him this long to get the upper hand on Holly Milano, and he had no plans to lose it anytime soon.
If she glimpsed an inkling of sympathy, she’d use it against him.
“Calling Bravo?” she asked.
“Texting. He’s in the air.” Which was a blessing—he wasn’t in the mood to go over details.
“What are you going to say? That I’m an idiot?” she asked with a forced laugh at the end.
Holly worried about what Bravo thought? He’d been hoping she was better than that. “I’m telling him there was a change in plans. That he’s the assistant and to please read that section of the mission op. And that we’ll see him later.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Kane paused in typing. “Do you think I’d tell Bravo that this was your fault?”
She took a step back. “No, of course not.”
“Good.” He hit send and rose. Too much alone time wasn’t a good thing when it came to him and Holly. It only seemed to lead to disagreements and misunderstanding.
She hesitated. “What about Tempe?”
“What about her?” he asked, already knowing what Holly was going to say—because it was what he was thinking.
“Are you going to tell her what happened? Not telling Bravo is one thing, but leaving Tempe out of the loop is,” she hesitated, “unwise.”
Bingo.
He knew the answer—he should.
But he didn’t want to. It wasn’t that he was going to be alone with Holly on a nightly basis, though he had no illusion that being in her bed and not touching her was going to be easy. Holly was a beautiful, adventurous woman, and the very male part of him wondered if that translated in the bedroom.
That frustration he could handle.
What he doubted was his ability to play the part of her fiancé. The affection. The kissing. Acting as if the engagement was real.
He wasn’t the actor she and Bravo were.
They all knew it, and no one more so than Tempe. She’d abort the mission, and that would be a first.
A mark on his record he’d rather avoid. “All Tempe wants is for us to complete the mission. How we accomplish that is my job.”
“She said—”
“I know what she said, but since when did you do as you were told?” he replied.
“Now you want me to break the rules?”
“Just try not to screw up again,” he replied, smiling so she would know he was joking.
She gave him a wary look.
He stuck his hand out. “Deal?”
Her eyes locked with his, and she took his hand in hers. “Deal.” Her palms were calloused, and her fingers strong as they wrapped around his. He imagined she gave one helluva massage when she was inclined.
He shut down that train of thought as they shook on the agreement.
He let her go, not sure if he should believe that she’d live by the bargain, but it was a start. Besides, he had his own issues to deal with—like wanting to kiss his partner and wondering how he was going to keep his hands off of her when they were alone in the bedroom.
This weekend was going to be torture, he realized.
“You know, in hindsight, this might work out for the best,” Holly said.
“How so?” he asked, grasping at the change in topic like a man grasped a life preserver.
“If he gets here while everyone is still sailing, Bravo can start asking questions, and he might even have the opportunity to case the house, since most of the people will be gone,” she said.
Kane took out his phone and texted the other agent the plan as they walked toward the marina.
The path ended at a boardwalk, and beyond that was a wide wooden pier with rows of sailboats moored on each side. Near the entrance, a group of people milled about a small tiki bar.
He spotted Elizabeth in the crowd. “Those must be the other guests.”
He headed toward them, but was stopped short when Holly grabbed his hand. “Can’t we sit on the doc
k and watch?”
“You haven’t sailed before, have you?” Kane asked when he noticed her eyes on the boats and not on the crowd.
She shook her head.
He wished he could accommodate her trepidation, but if he and Holly wanted to be part of the crowd, then they had to play by their rules. That didn’t include sitting on the sidelines. Besides, the more he sailed, the less he spoke and put the mission in jeopardy.
A win-win for all.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I’ll take care of the sailing part.”
“I won’t be much help,” Holly bit her lower lip, drawing his attention.
What would she taste like? The strawberries or the champagne?
Dammit. He wanted her out of his head. “You don’t have to be. I know enough to get us from point A to point B. Don’t worry about it.”
“So, I can shut up and look pretty?”
His head swiveled in her direction, all attention on the beautiful blonde as he prepared himself for a repeat of the earlier fight.
Instead, she smiled at him. Her blue eyes laughing.
Say what you wanted about the best thief at HRS—she didn’t hold a grudge.
He found himself grinning back, glad to see the smile on her face and knowing that, for once, he was the one that put it there.
…
By the time they arrived at the dock, the party was already breaking up and the people were dispersing to their assigned boats. Another young woman—wearing the household uniform of a tan suit—met them on the dock, shoved a piece of paper in Kane’s hand, then ran off to intercept another couple.
“We’re on the Blind Ambition, slip fourteen,” Kane said.
Holly took in the competition as Kane led her to the far end of the small marina. It took less than three beats of her pulse for her to size up the group.
Rich. Bored. Ambitious.
The sum of why most of these people had arrived this weekend. What else were they going to do? Not that she faulted them their motivations. Paying attention to politics was one of the ways the rich stayed rich. Not that she cared. Politics wasn’t an interest for her, and from what little she understood, most of the people involved were bigger thieves than she would ever be.
She and Kane found their small vessel and boarded. It wasn’t big—twenty feet by her estimate. Maybe twenty-two. There was a small, open cockpit with the wheel and the tiller at the back of the boat. Cushioned, fiberglass benches ran the length of each side, giving her ample room to sit. Opposite the wheel, and on the other side of the cockpit, a set of stairs led to a cabin with a combination seat/bed, dorm-sized refrigerator, cupboards, and little else.
Not that she planned to go down for further investigation. She visualized the boat capsizing—trapping her inside—and shuddered.
She patted the fiberglass bench in the cockpit. Nope. She’d stay right here.
“I’ll get us ready to go,” Kane said. “Why don’t you open up the cooler and make us a couple of drinks?”
He descended the stairs into the berthing area, and it bobbed on the water in reaction to the new weight distribution.
A small squeak of fear slipped out of her throat, and she grabbed the railing. Get a grip, she told herself, or you’ll never make it out of the dock. Just stay on the boat. That’s all you have to do.
“I take it you don’t sail,” a feminine voice asked.
She tore her gaze upward. On the small vessel next to them, a redhead wearing denim shorts, an emerald green bikini top, and an unbuttoned gauzy white shirt sipped something with limes.
“Is it that obvious?” Holly asked with a small, half-frightened laugh.
The redhead’s eyes slid down to Holly’s death grip on the railing. “Not at all,” she lied. “The boats are all rentals, but I’m sure they’re sea-worthy.”
Rentals? Holly wasn’t sure if the redhead was trying to be sympathetic or sarcastic.
Possibly both. Slowly, she unclenched her fingers then shook the blood back into them. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem.” The redhead toasted her with the now half-empty glass. “I take it you’re the engaged couple?”
How would she know that? The hair on the back of Holly’s neck rose. “We are. What gave it away?”
“I’m friends with Tammi Lynn,” she replied.
Tim Burke’s trophy wife.
The redhead continued, “Apparently your fiancé, Bravo, called and paid for a lovely bottle of champagne to be waiting in your room.”
Dammit. “Bravo is my assistant,” Holly corrected. “That’s my fiancé up at the front of the boat, Kane.”
The redhead gave a sigh of indifference that Holly knew all too well. She didn’t care about Holly or Kane or any of it. Hell, the drink in her hand held more interest for her than Holly ever would.
Insulting but for the best, considering the circumstances. The prickles on Holly’s neck calmed. “And you are?” she prompted, refusing to be ignored.
“Rachel and Enzo,” the redhead replied, sounding even more bored.
“Hi.” An awkward silence fell over them, and Holly bent to open the cooler. Drinks, she reminded herself. Kane had asked for drinks.
“When’s the big day?” Rachel asked.
“April first,” Holly replied. If she ever did get married, that was the date she wanted. Had always wanted.
“April Fool’s Day? I have to ask, why?” The corners of her mouth curled up in a small sneer.
“Weddings can be so serious, don’t you think?” Kane answered for her, coming up the cabin stairs to the cockpit. “All giant dresses and tuxedos. We thought it would be more fun to have a bit of a laugh. You know—finding a giant plastic ring in my pocket instead of her diamond.”
Holly took his hand and squeezed, grateful for the rescue. “It might even light up,” she added.
“To each their own, I suppose.” Rachel tipped her glass and finished the last of her drink. “Enzo and I were married in France at a vineyard.”
Holly mirrored back the sigh of indifference Rachel had given her earlier.
“Enzo?” Kane asked.
Holly stiffened, catching an undercurrent. Something was wrong. Did he know this man?
“My husband.” A man wearing khaki pants and a polo shirt the same green as red’s bikini emerged from their cockpit. His thick, black hair was buzzed short, and his deep tan told her he either lived near a beach or used a tanning bed and liked to pretend he did. “Ready to kick some ass, babe?” he asked.
She grinned at Holly, but there was no kindness behind the smile. So, it had been sarcasm earlier—good to know. Rachel was the “mean girl” of the group.
“Morning,” Kane said, drawing the man’s attention. “We’re the competition, Kane and Holly.”
“They’re getting married on April first,” Rachel said in a stage whisper, as if the information were either a secret or something to be ashamed of.
“Competition? Really?” Enzo replied.
Kane took a seat on the built-in bench and opened the cooler. “Just kidding. This is supposed to be a fun weekend.” He handed Holly a plastic glass. “Want a Dark-n-Stormy?”
“Sure,” she replied, surprised at Kane’s calm demeanor. She sensed it wasn’t because his acting ability had grown exponentially since they arrived.
It was his knowledge of the boat, she realized, thinking back to Tempe’s comments. He knew this life. This was Kane, or an earlier version of him.
“Competition is fun,” Enzo replied.
“It can be,” Kane said, pouring a combination of ginger beer and dark rum into Holly’s glass. “Today, I want to sail and just enjoy it.”
Enzo gave a snort of derision. “Planning on coming in last?”
“Not at all. I don’t see you as a threat,” Kane replied. “So, this isn’t a competition.”
Holly stared across the cockpit at Kane. Where had that come from?
“Your mouth is open,” he said under
his breath.
She clamped it shut.
“See you on the water,” Enzo said, dragging Rachel down into their cabin.
To conspire, Holly was sure. But unless they controlled the weather, there wasn’t much they could do besides be better sailors.
“How good are you?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink. The sweetness of the drink flooded her throat, then went to her head when she swallowed. She’d have to be careful, or she’d fall off the boat.
“Better than him,” he replied, nodding at the boat next door.
“You sound sure of that,” Holly replied. “From your earlier, sour-puss expression, I take it you know him?”
He leaned closer, elbows on his knees.” When I was a teenager, I raced boats for a while, and our paths crossed a few times.”
“Any chance either of them will recognize you?”
“No. He took racing a helluva lot more seriously than I did. His focus was on the finish line and berating his crew. Besides, my parents didn’t have enough money to appear on his radar of ‘people to pay attention to.’ I could have had dinner with him and Rachel, and I’d still be nothing more than a blank face. Unless you’re ‘above them’,” he air quoted the phrase, “they won’t remember you, nor will they care.”
The animosity in his voice didn’t shock her, but the pain behind it did. Her stomach churned. What kind of world had he lived in before he landed at HRS? Tempe had alluded to the fact that his family had money, but that tidbit, combined with this encounter, told her little other than he seemed glad he’d left that life behind.
Of course, if it had been occupied by people like Enzo and Rachel, she couldn’t blame him.
Her family might be a giant pain in the ass at times, and a little strange, but they loved her and supported her, and they’d never treat her as if she didn’t matter.
“Good,” she said, taking another generous swig of her drink and suspecting she might need more before the end of the race. “But there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“What makes you say that?”
She shook her head. “I can’t put my finger on it, but my gut tells me that there’s something else. I never ignore my gut.”
He hesitated, then took a gulp of his drink. “Enzo’s full name is Raul Enzo Pascua, and his father is a leader in the Unione Corse.”
Undercover With the Enemy Page 5
