by Dana Volney
“I’ll be having a chat with them about protocol.”
He nodded. “You do that before one of us gets killed.” He took the seat that Mr. Huntington had vacated and got back to the laptop.
There was no doubt Hannah could be a tough-as-brass boss, but there was no bite to her threat. Lies. All lies.
“They’ll be there when we need them.”
Sadness crept over her face, and just as quickly, it was gone. Special Agent Hannah Malone’s attachment to the task force wasn’t lining up.
Before dinner, he had to brush up on his counterfeit money knowledge and organize his gear—they were going to need it. And he should start the hunt for information that would get Leo off the hook for murder.
But first, he’d set his programs to collect information on Hannah.
• • •
Hannah snuck out of the hotel through the back entrance in case Redburn already had men in the lobby. First the office, then home. She’d lined up everything for the undercover work but failed to pack a couple of necessities of her own—changes of clothes for one, since she couldn’t very well be in a dress all weekend, a couple pairs of daily contacts, and face lotion. Her sensitive skin needed to stick to its coconut oil regime.
Her phone vibrated as she hailed a cab.
“Malone,” she answered, then told the driver, “Downtown police station.” It was easier than saying her apartment address since she just lived a block up from her office.
He glanced back at her in the rearview mirror, then drove, placing both hands on the wheel.
“Hey. It’s me,” Kate rushed out in a breath, no doubt power walking down a hall of the courthouse like she was on a warpath. “How’d it go?”
Hannah’s gaze fell on the cabby’s credentials posted on the plastic partition. All up to code. “Not so great. At first.” She cleared her throat. Lying sucked but it seemed to be the only thing she was good at today. “But now I’m back on track.”
Her friend since college was part of the district attorney’s office. Filling Kate in on too much might put her in an awkward spot later.
“You have that tone. Spill.”
There was no use in resisting. Kate didn’t have the best record of all the ADAs because she was bad at reading people. “I’ll share the details with you when it’s done. It took some doing”—aka trickery, deception, all the things she was against—“but I have an in and should know more tonight.”
“That was fast.”
“Got lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re damn good at your job. Are you making them call you sir and get you coffee constantly?”
Hannah smiled. “I don’t even drink coffee.”
“That’s why it’s a power move.”
“You’re crazy.” Today’s task force had been short lived, but she’d run one again. To completion this time. Nailing Redburn would get her one step closer to overseeing the whole damn show.
“Are you actually going to meet him?”
Hannah could feel Kate stop midstride and pause.
“Yep.” Hannah found her sunglasses in her purse, slipped them on, then paid the driver, and started down the block, surveilling the sidewalk and cars driving past to make sure she wasn’t being tailed.
“You can do it,” Kate spoke softer into the phone.
Kate had been there when Robert died and helped with arranging his graveside funeral. She’d not overly doted on Hannah, but she’d showed up with pizza and movies more than once in an effort to comfort her Kate-style, which wasn’t mushy and one of the reasons they were so close. They let each other deal with life’s curveballs at their own pace. And when Hannah had looked into Robert’s death and discovered it was because of a nod from Warren Redburn, Kate had supported her investigation, even pulling records on the sly from an ancient case file at one point.
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything, anytime, you call, got me?” That was not a tone, or a woman, to be messed with. Hannah would, indeed, call if she needed. She was tapping into and draining all of her resources and calling in every single favor for this case. She was taking her best, and only, shot at Redburn, and failing wasn’t an option.
• • •
Eddie knocked on the bathroom door at five thirty sharp. She’d been in there for the last hour as he’d set up his own laptop, fine-tuned the tiny bugs they’d decided they should hide on Redburn’s phone and anywhere on his person tonight, and threw on the nicest clothes he owned that weren’t currently at the cleaners to get his partner’s bloodstains out. A lavender button-down, black slacks, black loafers. No wonder he kept seeing Amelia lying on the floor of that bus, covered in blood. As if he needed another reason to hate dressing up.
Be better. He felt for the tiny disk-shaped bugs in his pocket again, then ran his fingers over the white buttons trailing down his abdomen. The lavender shirt was an ode to his mom. She’d given him the same color shirt to wear for his high school graduation. It was fitting for tonight as well, considering what else he’d grabbed on the way to the hotel for the undercover op. He tapped the side of his leg again to make sure it was still there.
The door swung open, and Hannah’s sweet scent rushed over him, touching him in places he’d imagine her fingers could do wonders on. She stood before him in a stunning little black dress. His gaze followed the slit on her dress that started at her knee, sat on her thigh, and kept going up her creamy skin until it stopped nearly at her bikini line. The tips of his fingers tingled to run up that opening and keep going until he gripped her bare hip. The straps that disappeared behind her shoulders came down to crisscross over her perfectly plump breasts. The matte fabric hugged her curves through the waist and was cut out in a triangle just below her breasts. The little peek of skin called his name. It was hard to move his gaze; he wanted to hook his finger in the opening and pull her to him, show her that the heat they’d stirred up in her boss’s office wasn’t by accident.
This dinner was going to be hard to get through.
He licked his lips, feeling his palms dampen. She glanced up at him, and her blue eyes nearly stole his damn breath. Holy sex on a stick, she was a sight to behold. And less than two feet away from him. He could easily reach out, wrap his fingers around her waist, and never let go. Her dark blonde hair was not in a ponytail this time. Its waves flowed just below her shoulders. The ruby studs she’d worn earlier had been replaced with dangling diamonds. Hannah Malone was one classy lady. Definitely too classy for his jelly-donut-loving ass.
“You look beautiful.” He finally found his wits enough to speak.
“Thank you. You’re quite presentable yourself tonight.” She arched a brow. “Surprisingly. Is this what I should expect the rest of the weekend?” Her gaze wandered all the way down to his toes before locking on to his eyes again. His body was electrified under her dark blue stare, and his breathing labored. He swallowed to try to calm the rising heat covering his skin, but it was no use. She’d already turned him on.
This wasn’t good. His body and mind needed to get their act together. He wasn’t a serious relationship person. Not that she’d shown any interest in him at all. He had no words for their kiss, but she hadn’t shown interest since. Whatever this reaction to her, it wasn’t manifesting into something outside his own thoughts anytime soon.
“Fake it till you make it.”
“Or till you catch the bad guy.” She stepped past him, grabbed her green carry-on that would make flight attendants roll their eyes, and opened it on the bed, pulling out a small gun tucked between five pairs of jeans. Then she paused and quickly glanced over at him. Shit, she’d caught him staring practically with his mouth open, picturing the very few private places she could hide the gun.
She picked a red clutch from her folded clothes pile and stuck the gun in there. He wrinkled his forehead. Dammit, he didn’t get to see where she’d intended to nuzzle the gun to her skin.
“I don’t think so.” He stifled a smi
le.
“What?” She snapped her purse shut.
“Redburn won’t be coming alone, and his people could check us; we don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. We don’t know that the Huntingtons are violent.”
“So they confiscate it.” Hannah shrugged, not making one move to remove the gun.
“Then they are on the defensive, and we need them to be at ease. The entire time.” He rested his palms on his hips.
“You aren’t carrying?” She glanced at his sides, then rifled around in her suitcase again.
“I don’t need to.” He was a great shot, yeah, but he was also trained in hand-to-hand combat should the need arise. Plus, they were meeting at a swanky restaurant; no one was shooting anyone at dinner. “We have the earcomms with the two-man team that’ll be monitoring outside and can handle it if things go wrong.”
She paused as her brow furrowed and she rubbed her light pink lips together. “Fine.” She threw her gun back in the suitcase and flipped the top back over, then stepped into shiny red high heels with a closed pointed toe. Her legs had a shine, her calf muscle flexed, and Eddie forgot how to form words.
She stepped closer to him, her long lashes framing her round eyes. “Got the bugs?”
“Yep.” He reached into his right pocket for the devices and removed three. “Here’s a couple.” He started to place them in her outstretched palm, then pulled back. “Do you know what you’re doing with them?”
“I can plant a bug just fine.”
“The only reason we both have some is that I don’t know who’s going to have the opportunity. If they’re found, we’re screwed.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“Someone’s got tricks I don’t know about.” He was tempted to wink, but, geez, he was out of his comfort zone here.
She took the little circles out of his palm, opened their hotel door, and somehow replaced her edge with pure femininity faster than he could blink. She disappeared down the hallway, her ass swinging the entire way, and he unabashedly hung back to watch for a moment, noticing her shoulder-length hair had bounce to it. He hadn’t seen it down yet. She turned her head while she walked and smiled as she glanced back at him. Her grin touched her eyes, and his lips parted. A completely different, flirty, and carefree woman led the way.
The elevator dinged, and he waved his hand for her to go first. When it fell back by his side, he felt the metal in his pocket. The rings. He’d never worn a ring and wasn’t jazzed about putting one on now, but they couldn’t afford anything to be out of place in his mission. One wrong move could scare Redburn away.
He reached in and produced a silver band for him and a set of rings for her. “Congratulations. I’m not sure you married well, but I did. Looks like we’re officially Mr. and Mrs. now.”
He held the silver band with a marquise diamond between his thumb and index finger and held it up to her left hand. He slipped the rings on her finger, band first, then the diamond. They fit. Perfectly.
She didn’t say anything as she watched. Hopefully, this silence wouldn’t become a thing with her in these awkward moments.
Damn. His throat tightened as if he’d asked for real. Which was dumb. He didn’t really know Hannah, and beyond her obviously good looks, he had no idea if there was truly chemistry between them.
“I can’t believe I forgot about the ring.” She held out her hand, admiring the bands. “You just had this lying around?”
“A Boy Scout is always prepared, Milky Way.”
He wasn’t a relationship guy. The pain of losing a person he cared about was a bitch and had hollowed him out twice before—once with his mom’s passing and another when his brothers-in-arms were killed. Going down that road again wasn’t an option. The thought alone of giving someone else his heart, of tying his life to that person, overwhelmed him. There was no way he could actually do it. He was happy with his job, and his life. It didn’t exactly lend itself to being home by five for dinner. Short-term relationships were all he could muster.
The rings, his mom’s rings to be exact, were a means to an end. Helping Leo.
The elevator doors opened, and he gave Hannah his elbow. Tech was his wheelhouse; his fingers flying over the keys and helping him to call the shots was something he could do without a second thought. Even staying in the shadows for an op didn’t raise his blood pressure. But tonight he was a front man, undercover with Hannah, even if he did prefer the shadow.
In a perfect world, Redburn would admit his scumbag status tonight, and Leo could be freed and Hannah happy. Eddie could see the writing on the wall. Hannah was already getting under his skin. There was a story there. And part of him wanted to know it. The other part of him wanted to get far away from her.
The conflict sat squarely on his shoulders, more weight added with each passing hour.
They were right on time, and Eddie attempted to relax with a deep breath. Nope. It didn’t work. He was alert and thinking steps ahead. If Redburn didn’t show up, Hannah wasn’t going to like the backup plan—especially since it involved them actually being bad guys instead of just pretending. But, hey, she’d been the one to go down this road, and he was going to take full advantage of any opportunity to get Leo off the hook. While she was trying to build a case to lock up a man, he was trying to keep his brother from losing his life. The deal they’d struck earlier definitely had a one-sided slant.
Eddie slid his hand into Hannah’s. They were supposed to be a loving couple, after all.
“Huntington,” Eddie checked in at the host podium.
“Right this way, sir.” The white-haired man in a black suit led them through the dimly lit restaurant to the back corner of a side room.
Thank goodness they were seated at an empty table. He needed to get his bearings, he needed to figure out what the hell he was doing pretending to be someone else when he barely managed to be the best he could be, and he needed to shake off Hannah’s effect. She was not a good-looking agent tonight; she was a stunning bombshell in a dress that steered more than his mind away from the task at hand.
Their arms brushed before she slid into the red faux-leather booth, and he cursed his long-sleeved shirt. Stop it. We aren’t a thing. They were on a fake date for a real mission.
“What are you doing?” Hannah set her purse on the bench.
“Sitting next to you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes, Junior Mint, that is exactly what is happening.” He lowered his voice. “Now scoot.”
She huffed out a pocket of air as she shifted her fine behind to the left, locking herself in between the wall and him. His night was going swimmingly as far as he was concerned, on the outside at least, but judging by the permanent wrinkle between her eyebrows, she didn’t feel the same way.
“Stop moving around.” She took a drink of her water.
“I’m not moving around.” But shit fire, this plan was going too smoothly. There were always unknowns. He hated unknowns.
“You keep tapping your leg.” She slid her hand down and placed it on top of his thigh. His upper thigh. Well, now he wished he’d worn shorts. He had on way too much clothing to be sitting this close to Hannah.
“You’re going to need to keep your hand there.” He chuckled to make a joke out of his serious request.
If they were going to pass as a couple, this detail with her hand on his lap was the perfect touch. If he planned to string a coherent sentence together to stay in character with their assignment, her hand was not ideal. At all.
Think of anything else but her.
She rolled her eyes at him and removed her palm. Then something over his shoulder caught her attention, and her face froze mid-smirk. He didn’t turn around to make anything obvious. He knew what she saw. Redburn was here. Finally. Now they could move on to the next phase of the half-cocked, half flying-by-the-seat-of-their-pants plan: convincing a seasoned crime boss they were the counterfeiters he needed.
Bring it.
“Just
breathe,” he whispered, their bodies close enough to each other that he felt her suck in a breath and keep it in.
She started to say something about the color of his shirt, then cut herself off.
His brows furrowed. Yeah, small talk wasn’t going to work right now. Her hands were starting to shake.
Yet without saying another word, she leaned in and pressed her lips on his. Fully. Slowly. He sat stunned for a moment, unsure what to do. Then all the blood flowed down, his senses turned back on, and he knew exactly what to do. He wrapped his palm around her bare upper arm—finally, a chance to touch her soft skin—and pulled her against his chest. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and tangled his tongue with hers until they were in a full-on make-out session at the fanciest restaurant he’d ever been in. The zeal with which she kissed him back sent flares of surprise down his spine and heat into his lower gut. Shit, he could do this all night. But they were there for a job, and lives were on the line.
He pulled back and opened his eyes. Hers were still closed until he created a cold distance between them. This is not what I want. She opened her eyes, and he froze in the stunning deepness of her blue irises. Her gaze was hot with fire and passion, and then, for a moment, just hot. As if she were calculating something.
Suddenly, a wry smile crossed her lips.
“I’m glad we settled that, my love.” She pecked his lips again before sitting back and pressing her hands together in her lap. Her knuckles were white. “I hate it when we fight.” Spoken as if they were true lovers and she hated it when they fought. He would hate it, too, if they were lovers and fought, because with those eyes and that kiss, there was no battle she wouldn’t win.
“Hamptons this summer it is, my beauty.” He tried for a fake smile, but found a real one turning up the corners of his lips because, damn, Hannah was the best roller-coaster ride he’d ever been on. He couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, he’d been kissed so completely. He was going to have to reevaluate the way he dated from now on.
“Much better nickname than the candy references,” she ducked her head and whispered.
