Covering Coco (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Special Forces & Brotherhood Protector Series Book 7)

by Heather Long

“Nice. Then a train to Paris. From there, we’ll take another train to London.” Not his favorite route, too many stops and chances to run into trouble.

  “Why the long route?” She wiped her hands, then the gun before she wrapped it and tucked it back into her bag.

  “Because we need to draw out any tails or potential assassins. Keeping your cover intact.” A cover that had her playing the part of disenfranchised military and potential mercenary for hire.

  “Well that’s probably blown now.” Regret discolored the words. She pulled the colorful scarf away, then loosened the thick wave of dark hair from its braid. The wild tumble cascaded over her shoulders and softened her appearance dramatically.

  The thought of seeing all that hair spread out on a pillow as he powered into her… Or better, having it drape me as she rides me like a jockey. Yeah, his cock was totally on board with both ideas.

  “Not necessarily. We don’t know who the sniper was.” Sure, the fact they targeted her was enough of a suggestion she’d been identified. “Maybe you were in the way of someone else getting a job. Your cover isn’t exactly a candy striper.”

  “No,” she said with a snort. “It’s not. You should remember that the next time you decide to cop a feel.”

  “Thank you for that, by the way.” Why yes, he did like to play with fire. Not that anyone asked.

  “For what?” He could practically feel the waves of suspicion rolling off her.

  Grinning, he turned into the roundabout and changed lanes again, ignoring the honk of other vehicles racing to get into their right positions for the various turnoffs. See, playing with fire came in all shapes and sizes. “For the bite…I like it when my women have teeth and claws. The tongue was pretty sweet, too.”

  Getting killed was apparently at the top of his list today.

  “Sorry I can’t return the compliment.”

  Ouch. “I’m wounded.”

  “Yes, that’s what happens when you take a bullet to the back, body armor or not.” She pulled her sunglasses off, revealing a pair of deep brown eyes with a hint of golden brown ringing the pupil. The car swerved a little and he jerked his attention back to the road. “Are you all right to drive? Impact trauma isn’t a joke.”

  “I’m fine.” He’d hiked farther with worse. “We should change though.”

  “Yeah, because that obnoxious shirt doesn’t scream pay attention to me, enough.” Salty. Kind of like the chips, only with added hot spice. He could get used to her and quick.

  “Rule of thumb when you’re covert, don’t try to hide. Stand out.” Probably not, but it sounded good, right?

  “That’s not the rule. That’s not even close to the rule. Who are you? CIA?”

  He grimaced. It was a little too on the nose, even if he wasn’t actually working for Langley. “I’m a friend of Ned Wagner.”

  “That’s not scoring you any points.”

  “When I want to score points, I’ll let you know. Do you have a change of clothes in that Mary Poppins bag?” Damn thing was huge.

  “Why?” Tough audience.

  “Scoot into the back and change, pull out any of the IDs you’re running on and shove them into a burn bag. We’re going to make a quick trash stop, leave behind everything—including the gun.” He reached over and flipped open the glove compartment. Pulling out a ring box he tossed it to her. “By the way, will you marry me?”

  Absolute silence greeted the statement. Despite what he said earlier, he ticked off a mental point to him. The failure to return his volley meant he scored the point. Without a word, she took the ring box, unbuckled her seat belt and then climbed into the back seat.

  Graceful as hell.

  The speed with which she slid out of the sundress had his gaze flicking to the rearview once, then he stopped and gave her at least a modicum of privacy. Not before he caught a glimpse of a pair of spectacular breasts being held in a tight bandeau. Poor things, they could use a breather too.

  “So,” he said, keeping his tone conversational. “Is that a yes?”

  “What’s the cover story?” Aww, she wasn’t going to play with him.

  “Newlyweds, out to explore the French countryside and romantic Paris after a delightful To Catch a Thief escapade in Monaco.” It sounded better in his head.

  “You don’t even believe the crap you’re shoveling, how are you planning on selling that story?” She climbed back into the front seat, this time dressed in a calf length black skirt and a white blouse. “And no one will believe we’re together if I’m dressed like this and you like that.”

  “I have a change of clothes.” He glanced at her hand. “Ring.”

  “Ugh.” She opened the box, and he stretched his left hand to her. When she jammed the gold band on his finger with a tad more force than necessary, he grinned.

  “I do.”

  “Of course, you do.” She slid the gold ring onto her finger. “Cheap date. Where’s my engagement ring?”

  “We lost it,” he decided, since she’d opened the gambit. “Tragic, really. We were too enthusiastic as we played in the Mediterranean and in the throes of passion, the ring slipped away. We like to think someday, it will wash up on a shore or be found by someone in search of their own one, true love.” He added some emotion to it, because who wouldn’t with a sob story like that?

  “Of course, Wagner sent you. You’re clinical.” She pulled out the burn bag and dropped her IDs in it, sealing it. She let it do the work for them.

  “We’ll be at a petrol station, and rest area in ten minutes. We’ll pull off, and I’ll change. You go in and buy some souvenirs. I’ll take care of disposing of the items we don’t want found. “He lifted the arm rest and pressed a button inside the storage well. A hidden slot popped open. “Your new ID, Mrs. Montoya.”

  “You weren’t kidding about the name,” she scoffed, and pulled it out.

  “I never kid unless I mean it.” The statement earned another snort, but she grinned before she could school it away. Score two points.

  “Good to know, I’ve never considered sex with a joker and I don’t intend to start now.”

  Damn, she stole the point back. He tried to suck in a deeper breath and started coughing. Definitely time to get the damn body armor off. He needed to give his ribs a chance to spread again.

  “Did the king of the prom disappoint you?” Maybe that was a tad harsh on his part.

  “Wouldn’t know, I skipped the prom.” The abruptness of the statement left him no wiggle room to keep prying without looking like he was prying.

  So, he went for the direct route. “Why no prom?”

  “I had better things to do with my time. Why did Wagner send you specifically?” Yep, definitely stubborn.

  Three cars back a black Fornasari had stuck with them since leaving the city. He switched lanes, and took a different exit. Pulling out his phone, he pulled up the GPS program and engaged it. The program would track his progress and create an alternate route no matter how many deviations on his path.

  “I thought you wanted to stop at a petrol station, this will take us toward the coast.” She didn’t wait for him to answer, as she tilted her head to look at the side mirror. “Do we have a tail?”

  “Checking that out right now.” The Fornasari followed them along the exit route, but when he turned again, this time hooking under the road and back to the other side, it kept going. He followed the side pass and then took another road and increased the volume on the GPS up so he could follow its instructions.

  “Either they didn’t want you to know they were following or they recognized the problem with your plan.”

  Problem? “And what would that be, my darling wife?”

  The needling earned him a scowl, and he grinned. Definitely needed to get her back into the right mindset if they were going to sell the newlywed cover.

  “There’s only so many ways in and out via car. “

  “True…how do you feel about taking the scenic route?” Because that was what the GPS sh
owed him.

  “I feel like I don’t have a say in the matter.” Snippy, but also resigned. The latter part aggravated him. He wanted her cooperating, but he liked her feisty.

  “Now you’re talking. Let’s get to know each other? How did we meet?”

  Silence.

  He shifted in the seat and took a slightly deeper breath. Fucking hurt, but he could do it.

  Finally, she sighed, “You lost control of your dog and ran into me in the park.”

  “Fifi? I would never let Fifi get away in the park.”

  “I thought it was Lassie, and Lassie came to get me because you fell down a well.”

  “So you rescued me,” he said, musing. “Very romantic. The kids are going to love that story.”

  “That’s why you married me, cause you knocked me up?” A hint of malicious glee invaded her tone. “You told me you took care of the protection, but ten year old condoms break.”

  “Babe, one look at you and they’ll totally understand why I ran out of condoms and I couldn’t think of anything but bringing you pleasure. Not my fault that we got a little carried away.” He really was relishing this far too much. “The swing and the handcuffs were all your idea.”

  “I hate you.”

  But she was grinning.

  “Are you a steak girl? Or fish?”

  “Vegetarian,” was her cool reply.

  “Damn, really?”

  “No,” she said, her smile growing. “Not really. But a girl doesn’t give you all her secrets. Some things you have to earn.”

  Challenge accepted.

  Chapter 3

  Despite her exhaustion with the current mission, Coco Adler had tracked Eric Percival from Russia to the Ukraine, to the Baltic, then back to Prague, and finally across western Europe until he’d settled in Monaco for the past three weeks. Months of work, months of stalking, and months of a big fat nothing until the lunatic sitting across from her tackled her not far from Percival’s bungalow.

  A trap.

  She’d walked right into a trap and she wasn’t sure what irritated her more. The fact she’d walked into it—or Mr. Crazy Shirt was the one who saved her.

  And took a bullet for you.

  Not for the first time, she pictured stuffing a gag in the mouth of her conscience. Having a steady sense of right and wrong, and very firm grounding in ethics which had in the past warred with her sense of duty made for some headache inducing circles until she settled on a course.

  The little hole in the wall café they’d found wasn’t far from the train station in Nice. They’d dumped the car a couple of kilometers past the border to Monaco and taken a bus—a damn bus the rest of the way, stretching what should have been an hour or two of travel much longer. Still, it worked. And people on buses aren’t looking to make friends. They keep their heads down and read, play on their phones or sleep.

  Speaking of phones, his had rung as soon as the waitress delivered the coffee. Since he was distracted, she took the chance to study him in between scanning the quaint area they occupied. Busy enough streets to create a low hum, not so busy she couldn’t get a good look at most of the faces around them.

  “I’m busy Oddjob, how are you?” Though the volume of his voice didn’t change, there was a hint of irritation in his tone. Oddjob. Someone on his team? The guy had military written all over him. Sexy. Nerdy. Military. Great combo and definitely a turn on in her book. Maybe he’d missed a check in during their little mad flight.

  He shifted his seat, and pressed his shoulders back. A faint indication he was trying to ease the pain in his back. If they had a chance, she should take a look at it.

  “Just crocheting some doilies.”

  Her attention swiveled back to him. Bizarre code phrase. They liked to keep them conversational because otherwise the awkwardness drew the kind of attention talking in code was meant to avoid.

  “So if you have a good hook stitch, I’ll count you in. Otherwise…”

  When her gaze collided with his, he rolled his eyes once, then winked. An involuntary smile pulled at her lips.

  The man was crazy. Fun, but crazy.

  The waitress chose that moment to head in their direction. Coco tapped the menu and raised her eyebrows at her companion—husband—whatever the cover was supposed to be. The best way to deal with a cover was to sink into it, but calling Jacko her spouse was a difficult stretch no matter how sexy he was. He pointed to the bread, meat and cheese platter. That worked for her.

  Thankfully, four years of high school French and lots of practice had given her a flawless accent. The waitress took their order and left while Jacko continued his conversation.

  “Fuck, hit me. What do you need?”

  That didn’t sound good. She slid her foot out of a sandal and slid it up his leg. He caught it as it reached his lap, and squeezed her toes lightly. A quick smile touched his lips, but his eyes were darker with worry.

  “High heat? Or just looking for a long slow bake?”

  Worry curved through her. She hated being cut out of the information loop. Was the conversation about their current situation? Wary, she scanned the area around them. Nothing stood out, but then they’d taken a table with an angled top—cutting out a sniper’s line of fire, and avoided sitting near a window that could provide their reflection.

  “Any chance their lack of success scared off the would be attackers?” Jacko settled her foot against his thigh before pulling out a smallish laptop from the backpack. Stretching across the table, she shifted his water glass and coffee to the side so he could set the tablet on the table.

  He puckered his lips and blew a hint of a kiss to her, before saying, “…you’re planning something bigger. Give me a location, and I’ll run some deep background. I’m assuming you think they want this person off the land.”

  When he Jacko cradled her foot again, the act surprised her—then he tapped something against her instep.

  Morse code.

  “Unless they just want her dead.” He said tapping Friend in trouble. Give me a minute. “What’s the lovely lady’s name?”

  If she took Jacko at his word, then it had nothing to do with their current situation. Unfortunately, she’d been trained to pay attention to nuances and it was hard not to listen to him deal with the conversation across from her.

  “Dude…wasn’t there a Marine named…” Jacko released her foot and balanced the phone between his ear and his shoulder. A faint wince creased his forehead as he began to type. That couldn’t be comfortable for his abused back. “Fuck. All right. I’m on this. My hands are kind of full at the moment, I can send a couple of the guys your way—Flint might be up for it, though he won’t thank us if we keep him away from Trudi for too long. Dude is so hung up he can’t see straight. Angel’s up there already running a job with Patterson’s group so if he’s busy, it looks like Cannon and Mickey are available. Brick’s on the road or I’d send him back up that way—but he’s somewhere in Kentucky or Illinois.”

  Definitely military. He hadn’t given her his resume, but running down a list of names the way he did. The efficient way he managed the situation, and the sheer strength and skill he’d used in her takedown?

  “You got it. Soon as I have something I’ll get back to you.” He paused, squinting at the screen, then he glanced over at her. “I’m covered man. Just a lot of irons in the fire. Catch you later.” He hung up the call, then focused on the screen in front of him. She debated moving her foot, then he said. “Sorry sweetheart, sometimes work doesn’t recognize the concept of vacation.”

  Genuine regret tangled in the affection in his voice. If she didn’t know they were faking it, she might be a puddle. When was the last time a guy looked at her like that? As more than an adversary or as more than a pair of boobs in heels, or worse, when they looked at her like both? Curling her toes against his thigh, she smiled. “Take your time. We have the rest of our lives.”

  Yeah, what the hell? Two could play the game and they would both need to play it
well to make it work.

  “Sounded important.”

  “Yep,” he said, not offering her anymore details. “It is, but I’ve got it covered. Just one more note to send and…” He drew out the last syllable, until he hit enter and then closed the machine. “Done. I’m all yours.”

  He covered her foot, trapping it there on his thigh as he slid the computer away.

  “I missed you,” she told him, enjoying the spark of surprise in his eyes. At least the shadow of concern eased.

  “Whatever you want.” The firmness underscoring the words sent a raw thrill through her system.

  Business, she reminded herself. This was just business.

  The waitress returned with their cheese, meats, and bread. Coco’s stomach made no pretense of how hungry she was as it gurgled away. Jacko squeezed her foot with his thighs, as he set some cheese and meat on one of the small slices of warm bread. Then he leaned over and offered it to her.

  Romance. They were supposed to be in love. Newlyweds.

  She curled her toes against him, as she leaned forward. They were definitely playing with fire. Taking the bite he offered, she never looked away. A groan escaped, and she put two fingers to her lips as she chewed. “Oh my God, that’s good.” Talking around a mouthful wasn’t exactly graceful, but she didn’t care. When he offered her another bite, she accepted, even as she put together a slice for him.

  Dare glimmering in his eyes, he leaned forward. Accepting the unspoken request, she offered him the slice she’d prepared and he nibbled the bite even as he fed her another one. It was both agonizingly slow and sensuous to consume a meal this way. Licking a crumb of escaped cheese from her lips, she wasn’t prepared for Jacko to pull her finger into his mouth along with the last bite of his slice.

  Torn between letting their gambit play out and pulling her finger away, she stilled.

  He nipped the pad of her finger then released her as he murmured, “Delicious.”

  And just like that, her blood went molten and she curled her fingers into her palm lest their trembling betray her. “You’re easy to please.” Discounting his feelings on the subject wasn’t the intent, but she still needed to drag her focus from him to their surroundings.