Undercover With the Enemy

by Sharron McClellan

  She stuck her tongue out again.

  “Such a child,” he admonished.

  He brought it out in her, that much was true. She liked that she could act like an idiot, and he didn’t think less of her.

  He continued, “When this mission is over, we should try this on a real bed.” He cupped her cheek in his hand.

  A sliver of panic intruded into the happy warmth. What did he mean by that? “You want to see me after the mission is over?”

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  Mentally, she kicked herself for letting her libido and her emotions make her decisions. This was why she’d wanted Bravo. With a man like Bravo, she’d never have to have this conversation or introduce him to her mother and the rest of her motley circus family. And watch his expression grow stonier and colder, until he made his excuses and left—for good.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “You okay?”

  Commitment. Intimacy. She swallowed hard. She’d avoided both since she was a teenager. With Kane, it might be worth the risk, a small, quiet voice in her head, suggested. It would be so easy. Just open up. Let him see the real you.

  What if he hated the real her? What then?

  Right now, he gazed into the eyes of a thief. An acrobat. A tightrope walker. All of that made her seem exotic and thrilling, and people wanted to share in that excitement. She knew that and used it to open doors to places she might not normally be welcome.

  Once in a great while, she dropped her guard and let a potential boyfriend move past the facade. When they met the real her, they realized that she was a packaged deal that included a bearded lady, knife thrower, clowns, and a psychic mother. Overwhelmed, they always ran screaming for the hills.

  She didn’t want to see that kind of shock in Kane’s expression. Not now. Not ever.

  She squelched the urge to open up before it could gain hold. “I’m fine. Better than fine. But we should talk.”

  For more than a few heart beats, the only sound was the water lapping against the side of the boat. “You’re running away, aren’t you?” he asked when the silence grew to almost painful proportions.

  “I’m not running away,” she said, trying to make a joke and failing. “Where would I go? We’re on a mission.”

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  Could she be a bigger jerk? “Sorry.” Untangling herself from his arms, she sat up, grabbed her panties and slid them on, needing the movement and the distance. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

  “I won’t,” he said, retrieving his clothes.

  That was it? He wasn’t even going to try? A part of her ached even as she told herself this was what she wanted. Freedom from responsibility. No boyfriend. No Kane.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, the words like sawdust in her mouth. “Look, I didn’t—”

  She was interrupted by the thudding of footsteps on the dock, and she clamped her mouth shut.

  Her eyes met Kane’s, and he put a finger to his mouth. This might be nothing and no one, but she appreciated that it was best to find out before announcing their presence.

  “Here. This should be far enough,” someone said. She knew that voice. Enzo. From the comment, he wasn’t alone.

  Shit.

  Kane grabbed her arm. “Move,” he whispered.

  Scooping up the rest of their clothes, he pushed her into the bathroom built for one. Standing on the toilet lid, she moved as far back as she could, giving Kane enough room to join her.

  The thudding stopped. The boat rocked. Hell. They were coming on board.

  Her heart pounded hard, and she was sure Enzo and his friend could hear it smacking into her sternum.

  There was scuffling and the squeal of a metal hinge when someone opened a cupboard then slammed it closed. “Got it. Happy now?” Enzo asked.

  Enzo must have left something behind.

  “Not quite,” and unknown man said. “What the hell happened?”

  “That’s Lucien, Enzo’s father,” Kane whispered, his mouth against her ear and his voice so low, she barely heard it. “The one I told you about.”

  Awesome. A mob leader was outside the door, searching for who-knew-what, and she was barely dressed.

  She didn’t want to die wearing nothing but yellow satin panties with butterflies embroidered on the butt.

  “I did as you asked,” Enzo said. “I fucked the bitch, and when she went to the shower, I searched the room.”

  Her heart sped up again, and she was sure she was going to have a heart attack as they waited to hear if Enzo was going to tell Lucien about their part in the story.

  “So, where is it?’ Lucien asked.

  “No idea. She wasn’t wearing it. It wasn’t in her dresser. There’s a safe in the floor. I’m guessing she stashed it inside.”

  Holly took a long, silent inhale then let it out in relief. Apparently, Enzo didn’t want to let anyone know about his fuck up—not that she blamed him. She doubted that the head of the mob was tolerant when it came to mistakes.

  “You sure you didn’t miss it?” Lucien asked, the depth of anger in his voice made her shiver, and she counted herself glad to not be on the receiving end of his wrath.

  “It’s a fucking gaudy turtle necklace. Trust me, if it was there, I’d know it. I’m not a fucking moron.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she glanced down to Kane. His mouth was pressed tight. Whatever the Corsicans were doing here had nothing to do with gaining a foothold in the political arena. They were after the same necklace HRS had been hired to retrieve.

  “What do we do?” Enzo asked.

  “Send Rachel to get it during the auction,” was the reply. “Everyone will be occupied. If someone asks, tell them she has girl trouble or something.”

  Rachel? A thief?

  Great. What else had they missed?

  Chapter Ten

  The two men left, the weight of their shifting bodies making the boat rock hard enough that Kane had to brace himself against the wall of the bathroom. He signaled for Holly to wait. They weren’t safe. Not yet.

  She nodded, more compliant than usual, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the change. The upside was that her silence meant they weren’t arguing, and right now, he needed the reprieve.

  He needed to think. To process and deal with what had happened, but it was hard to ignore the anger bubbling inside. He glanced at his partner, her hands pressed against the walls for balance. It wasn’t her beauty that drew him in. She was fascinating and always kept him guessing, and something told him that what they had was special.

  But he’d had been wrong before, which made her decision to bail all the more painful. He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more—his misjudgment of Holly, that Mira Burke withheld some obviously critical information about the necklace, or himself for giving in to lust.

  “I think we can go,” Holly whispered. “We should get to Bravo.”

  Her words brought back some of the clarity that had fled, and the heat in his chest dropped to bearable levels. Answers could wait. He knew his priority—the mission.

  He wasn’t going to forget it again.

  He cracked the door open. The cabin and cockpit were empty. Climbing the short ladder, he watched the men disappear off the dock and into the gardens as they headed toward the house.

  “They’re gone,” he said. “We need to do the same.” It would be dark soon—time for the auction—and they’d lost valuable time on the boat. At least they now knew about Rachel and could neutralize her so Bravo didn’t run into her in the master suite.

  And then there was Enzo. Was he going to be an issue? It was doubtful the mobster would take a chance on confronting Kane, Holly, or their “assistant.” But Enzo had left them out of his story to Lucien, so that meant he was afraid of what would happen if his father knew he’d been caught.

  Fear made men do stupid things—like killing the people they were scared of. Killing was something HRS agents didn’t do unless they
had no other choice.

  The scar on his leg itched at the memory of almost losing his life, but it wasn’t so much the near-death experience that bothered him, it was the fact he had lost a fellow agent.

  As far as he was concerned, death shouldn’t be categorized under “trivial things,” so he’d left the volatile world of retrieving kidnap victims and turned to running item retrieval ops for HRS instead. Trinkets, files, and photos didn’t die. With the exception of working with Holly, it wasn’t as exciting, but his conscience was clear, and at the end of the day, he went home. He liked it that way.

  “Any idea why they want the necklace?” Holly said as he helped her off the boat and onto the dock, her hand warm in his.

  He wished he knew. It was his job as mission leader to know everything—even what the client wanted to remain secret. He’d poured over the files before they left but didn’t see any red flags besides the usual. Just a divorcee wanting her property. Of course it wasn’t because she cared about it. He’d known that much was a lie, but had assumed her reason was to hurt the trophy wife.

  An obvious motivation. Too obvious, it seemed.

  He had missed something. But what? “No, but we’ll find out.”

  They headed toward the house in silence, passing back through the garden where they’d kissed.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Holly asked, her attention on the bench.

  “No.” There wasn’t anything to say. Though, if he knew his partner, she wasn’t going to let the conversation drop. She was tenacious as hell—one of the things he liked about her.

  They reached the edge of the grass that surrounded the luxury home. Caterers carried in trays of food. Designers strung lights and flowers over and through the tent, until it looked like something out of a fairy tale.

  “You know you’re going to have to talk about it sometime,” Holly said when he grabbed her hand to maintain the illusion of coupledom.

  “I’ve been here before, and I know how it ends,” he said. She’d made it plain how she felt, and he had no plans to beg her to stay. There was only moving on.

  “You dated an agent?” she asked.

  Great, he’d piqued her curiosity. He shrugged, sorry he’d let his frustration with the situation get the best of him. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Oh,” Holly said. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about what happened back on the boat. On the couch.”

  She just couldn’t let it go.

  So much like Danielle.

  He stopped mid-step. This was going to end here and now, before someone got hurt. Or worse. “We fucked. That’s it. End of story.”

  Despite the clattering and noise, he heard her sharp intake of break. Like she’d been punched, and he hated the petty sense of satisfaction that came with winning the argument.

  She yanked her hand from his, and he didn’t bother to take it back. Let the other guests think they were arguing. Couples did it all the time, and in this crowd, they’d stand out more if they didn’t submit to the occasional public bickering session.

  “Do you have an alternate plan to get the necklace, now that we know Rachel is a thief?” she asked, her voice tight.

  Good. Back to what was important. “We’re on limited time. There may not be an alternative.”

  “We could let this go. We both know there’s more happening here than Mira let on.”

  He wished he could, but even though Mira withheld information, this was about more than the necklace. If the Corsicans wanted it, it wasn’t just a tacky piece of jewelry, which meant they couldn’t walk away, despite Mira’s deception. “We’ll find out what she left out as soon as we finish this job.”

  Holly stopped mid-step and crossed her arms over her chest. “What about Bravo? He could get killed.”

  “That’s why we’re hurrying. To try and mitigate the danger.”

  “There’s no guarantee,” she countered.

  “I know.” Was that where her emotions rested—with Bravo? He put a hand on her shoulder. The show was over, and they needed to discuss this in private. “Let’s go.”

  She jerked out of his grasp. “Are you going to continue acting like an ass because of what happened today? Because you’re jealous?”

  “Do you think I’m that petty? That small?” he said when he found his voice. She may be blind to what was happening between them and call him a stick-in-the-mud behind his back, but did she think he was such a jerk that he’d sacrifice another agent—out of jealousy?

  A bright blush spread up her neck and to her face. “No. No… Of course not.”

  She’d suffered enough, but he didn’t know what to say to fix it. Not anymore. Life was a helluva lot easier when she’d been a pain in the ass and nothing more. He headed toward the front door. “We have to talk to Bravo and get dressed for the auction.”

  …

  “You sure they said it was the same necklace?” Bravo asked. Wearing black slacks, a black formal shirt, tuxedo jacket, and black shoes, their “assistant” paced the floor, waiting for Tammi Lynn and Tim to vacate their room.

  As soon as they’d entered the house, they’d give him the new information that stealing the necklace might not be as simple as they thought, now that there were other players in the mix. “Positive,” Kane replied. “Unless she owns another ugly diamond necklace shaped like a turtle.”

  “Doubt it,” Bravo replied, slowing his stride and taking a seat to open a bottle of wine.

  Kane continued, “Besides, it makes sense. It’s why the client wanted us here this weekend—she knew the mob was going for it. The question is, why?”

  “I wish we knew,” Bravo said.

  “The real question is, how are we going to get it before they do?” Holly said, frustrated at listening to the men talk as if time was on their side. “We’re sitting around here yapping, when Bravo should be in the room cracking the safe.”

  “Tammi Lynn is nowhere to be found. That means she is still in the room,” Kane said. “Which means we wait.”

  They’d done a quick search when they’d arrived, and their hostess was nowhere to be found—not even the kitchen, though no surprise there. Tammi Lynn wasn’t the type to get her hands messy.

  Holly took the offered glass of wine from Bravo and stepped outside. The trees only partially obscured their view of the tent, making observation difficult but possible. So far, there was no sign of Tammi Lynn or Tim, which meant that even though the party—cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, and a string quartet—was only minutes away, no one would dare step on the lawn until their hosts arrived. Anything else would be rude.

  She glanced up to the balcony of the master suite just above her head and their room. Their room.

  Taking a large gulp of the pinot noir, she reminded herself that she could not let Kane into her head. If she did, she’d blow the mission, and while she’d made mistakes before, it was never because of a man.

  Slowly, she took in her surroundings, gauging the chance she could take care of this herself while Kane and Bravo went on and on, discussing ramifications, scenarios, and whatever else they could come up with.

  She expected this kind of detail from Kane but was surprised that Bravo seemed as determined to go through the options. She’d thought he was more spontaneous like her, and that was another reason she’d wanted to get closer to him.

  It seemed she was wrong. He was as annoyingly regimented as her partner. She hated them both. Or wanted to. Instead, she found herself watching Kane. Replaying their hours in the boat in her head and wishing that things had been different. That she was different.

  “Stop it, you idiot,” she muttered to herself. There was no going back from turning him down. She reminded herself that she didn’t need or want a relationship. Certainly not with Kane. That was inviting trouble.

  She gulped down the rest of the wine and forced herself to address the current situation.

  None of the balconies were lit, and the large trees filtered out the light
s below, leaving the back of the house shaded. It would be fully dark soon, providing even more coverage. She wasn’t sure that even mattered. If someone did wander out, their attention would be on the impending festivities below.

  No one ever looked up. It would be so easy to scale the wall and sneak into the room. If she did this right, she’d have the necklace before Tammi Lynn could say “bless her heart.”

  But as long as either of the Burkes were in the room, that idea was too risky.

  She took another sip of her wine, and as if on cue, the downstairs patio door slid open beneath them, and Tammi Lynn and Tim Burke appeared, starting to walk across the yard. Speak of the devil. She watched as the Southern belle began ordering the servants, rearranging the rainbow of gerbera daisies and greenery that made up the centerpieces, and fretting over the other decorations—an arbor, some strategically placed lights, damask chair covers with tasteful bows tied at the back. Tim took a seat at one of the tables and began drinking, as the other guests filtered out now that their hosts had arrived.

  She spotted Enzo stomping toward a table. Alone.

  A ripple of tension raced through Holly. It was time to steal the necklace and get the hell out of here. She stepped back inside. “Tammi Lynn and Tim are outside. I don’t know what you two are planning, but I think we need to take advantage of the situation and get the necklace. Now.”

  “Any sign of Rachel?” Kane asked.

  “Just Enzo.” Which, under other circumstances, might be normal. Under these, it mean only one thing.

  “She’ll probably make her move any minute,” Kane said, finishing her train of thought. “Holly, I want you to go to her room and stall her.”

  “And how do you propose I do that?” she asked. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t either make her look obvious or sound like a lunatic.

  “Tell her you heard she wasn’t feeling well. She won’t be able to leave,” Kane said, but his jaw was tight and his stance anything but relaxed. “Not while you’re in the room.”

  They were overthinking it—probably trying to keep her safe. Sweet but unnecessary. She faced them down. “I have a better idea. Send Bravo to distract Rachel.”