Undercover With the Enemy

by Sharron McClellan

  “He’s our assistant and out of her league.”

  Holly waved off his worry with a flick of her wrist. “Trust me, she’s not going to care. He’s seduced waitresses and even a royal or two. It’s what he does.”

  “She’s right. I’m good at it,’ Bravo said. “As your assistant, I can chat her up. Tell her that you want to share a table or something.” He straightened his tie, looking pleased with himself. “Once I have her alone, you’ll have all the time in the world.”

  What an ego.

  “It’s settled,” Holly said, heading for the door. “Now if you can grab Bravo’s grappling hook from his room, I’ll get dressed, steal the necklace, and we can get the hell out of here.”

  …

  Kane slammed the door behind him, grappling hook and rope tucked under his jacket. Holly had already slipped into a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved black T-shirt.

  Not an outfit for the weekend but one for robbing, “Did you know you’d be doing this?” he asked as she pulled a pair of black leather gloves from a zippered compartment in her suitcase.

  “I always assume I might have to,” she replied, not bothering to hide her smile.

  He should have known. Add Holly to a mission, and it was going to go sideways. It was bad enough that he had to deal with the Corsican mob, but an agent who had her own agenda was beyond frustrating.

  “Let’s do this,” she said, taking the hook and rope from his arms and slipping it over her shoulder.

  Let’s not, but he kept the thought to himself.

  Opening the door to the balcony, Kane took a final survey at the scenario on the other side of the lawn. It was dark, making the event at the tent difficult to see, but as far as he could tell, there was no sign of Rachel.

  Kane took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Using his shoulder to steady herself. Holly stepped up onto the three-inch-wide, wooden rail that outlined the wraparound balcony, and Kane’s stomach did a summersault. “Aren’t you using the hook?” he asked.

  “Yes, but that railing juts out an additional foot. I need you to hold my legs so I can lean out just a little bit and get a good swing of the rope.”

  Ask him to shoot a bad guy or hack a computer system, and he was all for it. But holding Holly’s life in his hands as she dangled in the air tweaked his nerves in a way he hadn’t known was possible.

  “Okay, what do I do?”

  “Hold my thighs and don’t let go,” she said.

  Dammit, she was enjoying this. But he grabbed her legs, wrapping his arms around them.

  She leaned backward at the waist, more flexible than anyone had the right to be. Arms out for balance, she kept her eye on her target—the floor above her. She let the grapple hang a few feet from the end of the rope, and he watched her mouth. One. She took a deep breath. Two. She exhaled. Three.

  He held her tighter, and she tossed the hook upward. There was a clink of metal on stone. She pulled. It held.

  Success.

  She grabbed the rope, and he let go. “Back in a jiff,” she said and climbed upward Seconds later, she disappeared, and he heard the click of the door as she entered the bedroom above them.

  Time to wait.

  He rubbed his forehead. She was fearless, which he loved. And loathed. Danielle had been as daring, and it had served her well. Until her luck ran out and her “I can do anything and survive” attitude got her killed.

  Leaning on the rail, he caught a glimpse through the leaves of the hostess running around as if this party were the most important thing in the world. Did Tim know his bride slept around?

  He suspected it didn’t matter as long as she looked good standing at his side. For the thousandth time, he was grateful he’d left that life behind. He’d lost a lot of people, but at least he could sleep at night.

  “Look what you did!”

  Kane zeroed in on the screaming. Seconds later, Tammi Lynn strode across the backyard with what looked like red wine staining the front of her cream-colored dress. A server dressed in classic black and white and her hair tied back in a ponytail, followed her, apologizing.

  Tammi Lynn stopped, and began to berate the young girl, screaming that she’s ruined the dress.

  Which meant she was going to change clothes.

  Shit.

  “Holly?!” He stage whispered her name.

  No reply.

  “Holly,” he called again.

  No answer.

  Below him, Tammi continued her rant.

  Racing through the room, he ran out to the hall and bounded up the stairway to the master bedroom. “Holly,” he whispered, tapping on the door. “Holly. Dammit. Open the door.”

  No answer. But he didn’t dare knock louder. The sound of footsteps stomping up the stairs heralded Tammi Lynn’s arrival. Kane leaned against the wall and tried to channel Michael Bravo’s ability to fade into the woodwork.

  Tammi Lynn came into view. Petite. Perfect hair. Narrowed eyes and mouth tight with anger.

  Then she met his gaze, and her mouth softened into a smile. She reached the landing. “Kane, what brings you here?” she asked, her voice so low it was almost a purr.

  He did the one thing he knew would work, he crooked a finger at her. Two steps later, and she was in his arms. Soft and lush as any woman he had ever touched.

  And married.

  He cringed on the inside. He’d done many things for the agency, but never this. The bile in his stomach rose. He thought of Danielle and her infidelity. Their last fight. The guilt on all sides.

  And how he never wanted to be a part of any scenario like that again.

  But he also didn’t want Holly found out. If it were just Tammi Lynn, he might risk it. They’d lose the chance to steal the necklace, but he carried loyalty to HRS only so far.

  But with the mob involved, who knew what might happen, and he wasn’t taking a chance that she might get hurt.

  Or worse.

  Holly owed him.

  Tammi Lynn’s tongue ticked his lips then slid into his mouth. She tasted like the red wine she’d been drinking. “We should get inside,” she whispered, opening the door. “We’ll have to make this quick.”

  Kane placed his hands on her hips, and stopped the door from opening more than a crack. As Tammi Lynn started to kiss his neck and run her hands through his hair, he looked past her and spotted Holly kneeling at the safe. She’d shoved the rug into an accordion pile on the side. Had she retrieved the necklace? He tried to mentally telegraph the question, bugging out his eyes and pursing his lips.

  She gritted her teeth at him and winced, looking younger than he’d ever seen her without her trademark confidence in place.

  This mission wasn’t going to fail, if he could help it. He had a duty—not as an HRS agent but as a human being—to make sure Lucian Pascua didn’t get what he was after.

  All he needed to do was buy her a few more seconds, and she’d be out of the room. And he could get rid of the woman who insisted on shoving her tongue down his throat.

  “What about your husband?” he asked Tammi Lynn.

  “He’s outside,” she replied with a small laugh. “We don’t have long, but I’m sure it will be long enough.” She cupped his crotch, caressing him through his slacks.

  The bile in his stomach rose a little higher. He put all he had into looking like he was enjoying himself and not about to projectile vomit. “Excellent,” he said, tilting her chin upward and kissing her again to give Holly the time she needed to escape.

  Tammi Lynn’s fingers clutched his shirt, and she pulled him into the room. Please be gone.

  Other than themselves, the bedroom was empty, the rug back in place. There was no way to know if his partner had gone out the balcony or was under the bed. He hoped for the former, but knowing Holly, anything was possible.

  Either way, he’d done what he could, and it was time to extricate himself from the situation. The question was, how?

  Tammi Lynn reached
behind her, the distinct sound of a zipper being undone caught his attention, and her dress slipped down her shoulders, revealing a trashy red Frederick’s of Hollywood bra. Holly would have looked amazing in it. On Tammi Lynn, it screamed low-rent. “Lock the door.”

  Hand on the knob and debating the ramifications of bolting, he heard a familiar voice.

  “Kane? Honey? Where the heck did you run off to?”

  Holly.

  From the faraway sound of her voice, he guessed that she stood at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at Tammi Lynn over his shoulder, working hard to keep the relief from his face and voice. “I have to go.”

  Tammi Lynn’s thin mouth flattened into an angry line. “You owe me,” she said.

  She wasn’t scared of getting caught, he realized, but she sure as hell was pissed at being denied.

  “Of course,” he replied with what he hoped was a convincing look of contrition, as he closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I knew that was a bad idea,” Kane said, pacing back and forth in their room, clutching his cell phone like he wanted to squeeze it to death.

  Sitting on the bed, Holly tried not to fidget as Kane loosened his grip on the mobile and texted Bravo, telling him what happened. “It was a good idea, just bad luck,” she said. “How was I to know that our hostess would douse herself in wine and need a change of clothes?”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “You could have been caught.”

  Holly glared at Kane. She didn’t let her mother talk to her like this. She sure wasn’t going to let him. “There is nothing she could have done to me if she caught me. And I don’t need or want a lecture. Let me know when you’re finished being a giant nag, and we can get back to work and figure out our next move.”

  “I am not a nag. I am leading this operation.” Kane snapped.

  “Let it go, Kane.” Bravo interrupted.

  Holly turned. The other agent stood in the doorway.

  Kane stopped mid-step. “Excuse me?”

  “Let it go. She took a shot, and it didn’t work. If Tammi Lynn hadn’t spilled wine all over herself, Holly would have succeeded. So, let it go. Things happen in the field, you know that.” He finished his wine. “Now if you two don’t get downstairs, people will start to talk, so I suggest we get on with the job. As far as I can tell, there’s no reason we can’t keep to the original plan. No harm done. Just get to Rachel, and I’ll give it a shot.”

  No harm unless she counted putting Kane in the position of kissing a married woman. He tried to act as if nothing happened, but she’d noticed the smudge of fuchsia lipstick on his shirt as soon as they were in the room. Even if there wasn’t the telltale lipstick, the nauseated expression told her that he’d done something he hadn’t wanted to.

  Add it all together, and it meant he’d kissed Tammi Lynn in order to save her.

  The combination of sacrifice and guilt was the only reason she’d let him berate her for more than thirty seconds.

  She glanced at Bravo. Thanks, she mouthed.

  He toasted her with the empty glass.

  Kane ran a hand through his hair, the simple gesture seeming to help him rein in his anger. “As you said, no harm done. I think we can proceed as planned.”

  He walked over to the French doors and cast a glance outside. “Our hostess is back at the tent. Bravo, I’ll text you the all clear.” He held up his phone. “Holly and I will head to the party and make sure that Rachel doesn’t get a chance to interfere.”

  “This would be a hell of a lot easier if we went to her room,” Holly said, knowing they couldn’t without giving away the fact they overheard Enzo’s conversation.

  “If it was easy, we wouldn’t be here,” Kane shot back.

  “On that note, I’m outta here,” Bravo said.

  “Where to?” Holly asked.

  “A little privacy. You can’t go like that,” he nodded toward Holly, still dressed in her leggings and black T-shirt.

  “Wouldn’t want to disappoint,” she snipped.

  Bravo paused at the door, as serious as only a thief could be before a job. “As soon as you text, I’ll start my run.”

  “Good luck,” Kane said.

  He was gone, and she was left alone with Kane.

  He didn’t say a word but grabbed a suit from the closet and retreated into the bathroom.

  “Awkward,” she said to no one. But it was her own fault, she knew that much.

  She rose from the bed and headed to the closet, unwrapping the pale blue mini-dress from its box. Simple but expensive, the dress’s halter-top neckline was attached to a thick silver chain that fastened around her neck. The hemline was higher than she’d normally wear, but the sales lady had convinced her it was appropriate for such an occasion.

  Seeing the more prim and proper women at brunch earlier made her wonder if she’d made a bad choice.

  On the upside, her flashy, super-short dress was bound to command attention, making it a bit less unlikely that anyone would spare the main house a single glance. Even if they did, darkness would hide anything that Bravo might do, even if he wasn’t a skilled thief.

  Leaving her leggings on the floor, she slid the dress over her head. No bra tonight, and while she sometimes wished she were better endowed, at times like this, she was glad she had a minimal bust. Anything more and she’d be jiggling. Painfully.

  Sitting at the vanity, she opened up her makeup case. There wasn’t time for the full face. A little mascara, lipstick, and eyeliner would have to be enough.

  She was finishing applying her mascara when Kane walked out.

  Wearing a dark charcoal gray suit with a blue shirt to match her dress and a darker blue tie, he looked every inch the businessman. But it was more than the suit. It was the way he carried himself—as if he belonged.

  She realized he wasn’t acting. The wealthy were his people. He was born and raised in a place like this, and he knew this echelon even as he seemed to try to pretend that wasn’t the case.

  “You look nice,” she said, rising and gathering her silver sandals from the bottom of the closet.

  He didn’t respond. Great. Still pissed.

  With a barely repressed sigh of exasperation, she sat on her bed to put on her shoes.

  “You look amazing,” Kane said, his voice rough.

  She stopped with one sandal halfway on and looked up. She wasn’t sure what was going on in his head—there were too many conflicting expressions racing across his features. Guilt. Sorrow. Jealousy. Passion.

  Desire. For her.

  She swallowed hard, not sure what was the best move and fought the urge to do the one thing that came to mind: kissing Kane and asking for forgiveness. But if she kissed him, she knew where it would lead—whether now or later. She wasn’t sure she could make love with him again and walk away with an unscathed heart.

  “Thanks,” she whispered and went back to putting on her footwear. “Do you think we can do this?”

  “If I didn’t, I’d cancel the mission,” he responded. “We have no allegiance to Mira. She lied to us.”

  He was the guy who took care of his team no matter what. She liked that about him.

  Mostly.

  …

  The party was in full swing when they arrived, Holly’s arm laced through Kane’s. He was still quieter than usual, but from the way he looked at the crowd—minute indications of dread breaking through the facade—she realized he didn’t like these people. Any of them. At all.

  She spotted Tammi Lynn. Her back to them, she wore a fitted red dress that showed off her curves. Their hostess was the least of their worries. They had to deal with Rachel and keep her from making a run for the necklace.

  Piece of cake.

  Elizabeth waved to her, threading her way through the crowd with Lucien Pascua in tow.

  “That’s Lucien,” Kane said.

  The one from the boat. “What do you think Elizabeth is doing with him?”


  “Sugar Daddy?” Kane offered.

  She hoped not.

  “Holly. Kane. How are you? I heard what happened,” Elizabeth kissed her on the cheek.

  “What are you talking about?” Holly asked.

  “Yesterday. The wreck,” she replied. “Enzo can be such an ass sometimes, not that Daddy cares,” she finished, giving the older man slight glare.

  Ah, her father. How did a sweet girl like Elizabeth come from a mob family? It boggled the mind.

  “No argument from me,” Kane replied, taking Holly’s hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “But it wasn’t all bad.” His eyes met hers, and she saw the truth in them.

  He wanted her.

  Heat began in the pit of her stomach and worked its way outward. She wanted him, too.

  But now wasn’t the time. Steadying her smile, she put her hand out toward the head of the Corsican mob. “Hi, I’m Holly, and this is my fiancé, Kane.”

  Lucien’s grip was solid. “Lucien Pascua. And despite what my daughter thinks, I am appalled at my son’s actions. He seems to think everything is a challenge to be beaten.” He patted Elizabeth on the cheek. “My daughter is much sweeter. My angel.

  “Judge me by her. Not Enzo,” he said with a chuckle.

  Elizabeth seemed like the light to Enzo’s dark. She could only imagine what their childhood was like. How did Elizabeth survive living with a sociopath?

  No sign of Rachel, though. “Where are Enzo and Rachel?” she asked, “I just want to let them know there are no hard feelings.” She smiled to show her sincerity.

  Lucien stiffened and gave her a pointed stare.

  She let her smile reach her eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and he gestured with his glass. “Enzo is over there. I don’t know where Rachel disappeared to.”

  She knew where. Go, Kane mouthed, running a hand over his hair to hide the order.

  “Thanks, I’ll be right back,” Holly said and headed toward Enzo, surprised that Kane trusted her to do this alone after what happened upstairs.

  Snatching a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she made her way to her target where he held a young couple in thrall. When she was close enough, she heard him going on about Rome, art—