“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve got it covered.”
Did I just get a second date? She wasn’t sure, but didn’t want to flat out ask. Instead, she followed as Nick led the way to the car and opened her door. He helped her inside and stepped back, staring down with a slight grin.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s just nice. You fit.”
“What do you mean, I fit?”
Nick reached down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “My jacket, my car. Something’s been missing in this picture for a long time. You fit.” He closed the door without waiting for a response.
She placed her hand against her heart, putting pressure on it in an attempt to stop the palpitations. He was too good to be true, and Carlie hoped he really was what he seemed. She’d certainly kissed her fair share of frogs the past few years—she shuddered thinking about the sleazy way Stephen acted—but Nick seemed like a prince.
No. She shook her head to erase that thought. She didn’t want a prince. The difficulties she had with Ryan were enough for a lifetime. A regular guy would do. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome and kind and made her body tingly in all the right places.
Nick hopped in the driver’s seat and fastened his belt, turning on the radio before pulling out of the lot. Carlie was happy enough to listen to country music; in fact, it was her favorite. It also saved her from having to comment on whether or not she fit. Replaying his words in her head without really analyzing them or saying anything in return was a nice change. She’d never dated a man who didn’t constantly want to be told how wonderful he was.
In too short of a time, Nick pulled the Porsche into the spot next to her Toyota Camry at Carlie’s Creations. The song, We Danced by Brad Paisley began playing, and Carlie’s breath caught in her throat. She loved this song, and she and Nick had certainly danced tonight.
When the song ended, Nick turned the radio off. “Can we go dancing for real? We could drive down to Seattle, make a whole day of it.” He smiled and took her hand in his. “You wouldn’t get embarrassed by people staring.”
“That sounds wonderful, but the only days I have off are Sundays.”
“We’re in luck. Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I promised Muhammad I’d help him tomorrow. He’s getting the supplies, but I said I’d do the baking in the morning.”
“Muhammad.” Nick gently placed her hand back in her lap and stared out the windshield.
“Is something wrong? I’m sorry I already made plans. I promised him earlier in the week. I didn’t know I’d...” Meet someone as wonderful as you, but I can’t say that. “I’ll be free in the afternoon, if you want to do something then.”
The muscles in his jaw worked for a few seconds. “This isn’t my business, and you don’t have to answer,” he finally said. “Are you dating Muhammad?”
That was so unexpected, Carlie burst out laughing. “No. Of course not. We’re friends, sort of.”
“Sort of? He seemed more than friendly. A little too familiar, constantly touching you.”
“You’re jealous?” She couldn’t remember a man ever displaying jealousy about who she paid attention to. “You don’t need to be. I talk to Muhammad about charity work, help him where I can. He spreads the word about my business to people who can actually pay for food. It’s a business arrangement more than a friendship.”
Nick finally faced her. “And does he know that? I don’t like the way he touches you.”
Okay. Jealous was cute to an extent, but not if Nick didn’t get that macho, ‘she’s mine’ look off his face. “I like you, Nick, but we’ve only been on one date. Isn’t it a little early to judge my friends?”
“Well, shit.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. “From chivalrous to major ass in two seconds flat. I definitely know how to impress the ladies.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” It wasn’t as though she could argue with him. She didn’t want a man to dictate her actions. “Look, Nick, I have an early morning. Thanks for dinner, but I really should get home.”
He opened his door and rounded to her side of the car, helping her out and walking her to the driver’s side of the Camry. “I didn’t mean to get into your business about Muhammad.”
Carlie nodded. “Okay.”
“You’re pissed, aren’t you?” He took a step nearer and caressed her hair softly. “I am sorry, really. I’ve been on my own a long time, Carlie, and thought I liked it that way.” His dark eyes shone brightly in the moonlight. “You make me feel so different. When Muhammad put his arms around you...” He let out a loud sigh. “I hated how it made me feel, but I’d hate not seeing you again more. Can we still go out tomorrow?”
“I don’t...” She paused, unsure what to say. The part of her that had been running for six years wanted to cut her losses, decide Nick was a jerk who would soon try to run her life, and end things now. However, she also thought of how good and safe she’d felt dancing with him, how cute he’d been putting his jacket on her.
“It’s okay. I understand.” He stepped back. “I don’t have a right to place demands on you—your time or your friends.”
This was all so fast. Too fast. How could she trust it? Nick might be a hired gun. Ryan’s enemies searched for her and wanted her dead. She wished she could believe that was just paranoia talking and the people in Ryan’s country had long since forgotten she existed, but she couldn’t.
When Ryan’s mother flew to America to pick up his body, she’d warned Carlie to take the money she gave her and run far and fast. Her mother-in-law feared for Carlie’s life and told her never to let anyone know who she used to be. Didn’t that mean they might still be looking for her? Could she believe that Nick was just a harmless man, looking for a good time and a training partner? And maybe...love?
“I’m not saying I don’t want to see you again,” she said. “But maybe it’d be best to take things slower. How about we just try for dinner tomorrow?”
He put his arms behind his back and nodded. “Fine. I’ll agree to slower. I have a tendency to go full throttle. I did warn you that I’m worried about scaring you away.”
That didn’t sound like a man who planned to murder her in her sleep. In fact, maybe Carlie was being silly. If Nick’s goal was to kill her, she’d been at his mercy all night. He was a fifth-degree black belt; she had no hope of defending herself against him.
“You didn’t scare me away.” She stepped into him and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. It calmed her further when he didn’t move his hands from behind his back to grab her or force a more passionate kiss on her.
When she moved away, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, fishing a business card from it. “This has my cell number on it. Will you text me when you get home tonight? Just so I know you’re there safe.”
I should be ashamed of myself for doubting him. That’s so sweet.
She took the card from him and nodded. “As soon as I pull into the driveway.” After unlocking her door, she slid into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.” He shut her door and walked back to his car, waving before climbing inside.
Carlie pulled out of the lot and was halfway home before she realized she still had his jacket on. She breathed in his cologne, excited about the thought of spending more time with him. He couldn’t be working for Ryan’s enemies, or she’d already be dead. Instead of being suspicious and overanalyzing everything, Carlie knew it was time to move on with life and let herself be happy.
Maybe she’d invite Nick to her house for dinner. He mentioned living in a hotel. A home-cooked meal would be nice. Besides, then if he wanted to dance again, no one would be there to stare at them.
Carlie turned into her driveway and put the car in park, shutting it off before pulling out her phone. She turned on the overhead light to read the number off his card. Here safe. Can’t wait
‘til tomorrow. How about I cook for u at my place?
She hit send and got out of the car, grabbing her purse and pushing the lock button. Skipping up to the house, she couldn’t stop smiling. Things were definitely taking a turn for the better.
“There you are, Carlie,” a voice came out of the darkness. “We need to chat.”
***
Nick sat in his car outside the hotel and read the message from Carlie. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied. She wanted to cook for him. That was a victory of sorts.
He tapped on the virtual keyboard on his phone: Dinner sounds good. What time? He punched send and jumped out of the car, swiping his keycard to get into the side door of the hotel and then making his way to the elevator. Sayle didn’t offer a hotel with a plush penthouse, so Nick made do with a nice two-room suite on the fourth floor.
It had been a mistake to bring up Muhammad tonight. He hoped Carlie could forgive him for that. He was suspicious of the man, but he shouldn’t have shown any interest. It put Carlie on alert, and that was the last thing he wanted. She needed to feel safe, comfortable, as though Nick would go along with anything she did. That was the only way to meet his objective.
Opening the hotel room door, Nick frowned as he walked inside. Something was wrong. The cloying scent of patchouli hung in the air, and there was a heaviness to the darkness. Nick kicked the door shut and dropped to the ground, rolling to shield himself behind the small counter to the left side. He slapped his side for his gun, only then remembering he posed as a successful businessman and had no right to be carrying one. Looked like it would be hand-to-hand combat. Fortunately, he excelled there.
A lamp clicked on near the couch. “Get off the damn floor.”
Nick wasn’t sure if knowing who was in his room was any better than assuming it was an enemy. “Good evening, Paul.” Thankfully, his voice came out calm and confident. Nick regained his feet and walked slowly to the seating area.
Paul Billings, boss of the anti-terrorist organization Nick worked for, S.A.T.O., sat in the leather armchair and jerked his head to the couch adjacent to him. “Have a seat.”
Obeying the command, he eyed Paul wearily. There was a time when Nick would have trusted him with his life. However, that was also during a time Paul wouldn’t have traveled across the country to check up on him during a mission. For thirteen years, Paul had been not only Nick’s boss, but a surrogate father figure. Something changed recently and Nick wasn’t sure he liked the changes.
“I was just about to call you, boss.”
“I decided to pay a visit.” Paul clasped his hands over his stomach and leaned back in the chair. “How’d your date go?”
“She’s invited me to dinner tomorrow.” But she had yet to answer about the time. Nick glanced at the face of his phone, realizing five minutes had passed. Wouldn’t she have waited for his answer before doing something else?
“I’m starting to worry about this mission.” Paul lifted one graying eyebrow. “What’s taking so long?”
“I’ve been doing surveillance on the target and all the people she associates with, but it’s not like you gave me much information.” Although Nick knew it could be hazardous to his health to mouth off to Paul, he was at the end of his patience with how things had been run at S.A.T.O. the past year. “You said you had other agents on this case. Let me know who they are so we can collaborate and also stay out of each other’s way.”
“You dare talk to me like that?” Paul’s blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t care how good an agent you are, if you become a liability to this operation, you will be taken out.” And there was the threat, always present. “Tell me, agent, are you questioning my decisions?”
Nick hated backing down, but Paul knew just where to prod. It was true he’d take out any agent who became a liability, no matter how good or important to a mission. Nick understood this when he joined the group. They couldn’t afford liabilities in their business or innocent people got killed. The last agent who proved to be a liability had been Nick’s job to dispatch.
“With all due respect, sir,” Nick said, not breaking eye contact, “I think the agency ran better when you told us who our allies were.”
Though he’d never understood the reason, Paul had changed the procedures for the anti-terrorist group right after Nick took care of Jason, the problem agent. In the three cases he’d worked since that time, Nick always went in with very little information, and he hadn’t spoken to anyone else within the group besides Paul. He didn’t even know if some agents he used to be friendly with were still part of the organization. Perhaps they’d all been killed.
However, the pay was good, and up until Paul ordered him to kill a fellow agent, Nick had enjoyed the work. He’d spent some good years with the agency and hoped things would improve again. It wasn’t as though he could quit—that would sign his death warrant as quickly as disobeying orders. He’d accomplish nothing by starting a war with Paul.
“Never mind, sir.” Nick shook his head and forced himself to assume a relaxed pose. “You’re right, of course. Knowing the other agents on the case won’t help me with my objective.”
“Good.” His boss nodded. “Now, give your report.”
“The target doesn’t seem all too suspicious, sir, if I’m being honest. She trains hard at karate and works long hours in her shop. I don’t know when she’d have time to help a terrorist group. I haven’t seen anything to indicate—”
Paul held up his hand. “A lot can be accomplished from inside her shop. You’ve been observing the outside, but you need to get in there.”
He nodded. “That’s true. As far as people she associates with, I’ve been keeping them all under surveillance, but there isn’t much to report there either. Shelley Daniels seems only interested in landing a man. Stephen Chance is a complete jerk—arrogant, but I don’t think he’s her contact in a terrorist group.” If Nick had to guess, he thought Stephen was the other agent working Carlie’s case. Paul had mentioned the prior agent worked for months without successfully learning Carlie’s secrets.
“Anyone else she has contact with?”
Nick hesitated. It seemed stereotypical to point out the guy of Middle Eastern descent as a possible terrorist again, but he had to report all Carlie’s associates. “I was officially introduced to Muhammad Khan today. I told you about him, remember? He runs the soup kitchen the target’s involved with. I think we should look at him closer. Something seemed off about him. He’s real friendly with the target.”
“Ah. Finally something useful,” his boss said in a way that made Nick think he knew something about Muhammad. Paul grabbed a briefcase by his feet and set it on the coffee table, extracting a file from it that he handed to Nick. “Khan has an interesting history, and your instincts are good to question if he’s involved. I’ve learned he’s the nephew of Aamir Abdul.”
“The same Aamir Abdul that tried to assassinate the President last year?” Nick often wondered if that case wasn’t the reason things had changed so drastically in S.A.T.O. It seemed like Paul and President Sharp freaked out after the near miss and restructured the anti-terrorist group. Not necessarily for the better, as far as Nick was concerned.
“That’s the terrorist I’m talking about.” His boss snorted. “If it hadn’t been for us, he would have succeeded. The President’s secret service agents were useless, and the FBI didn’t even know Aamir was back in the country.”
Nick hadn’t been involved in that case, but Jason had been...and then everything changed. “So you think Muhammad’s picking up where Uncle Aamir left off?”
“Could be. They have a new method of transferring codes, something our tech guys discovered.” He nodded at the manila folder in Nick’s hands. “Take a look.”
Opening the folder, Nick flipped through several pictures of expensive-looking bracelets and necklaces. Each piece was studded with diamonds encased in what was either silver or white gold.
“Jewelry?” He glanced back up. “They can transf
er code with this? What do these do, exactly?”
“I don’t understand how it all works, but somehow codes are embedded within the diamonds. They can activate bombs or hack into computers. They could disrupt security cameras or get into private records of American citizens and download dangerous information. I’m not sure what all can be accomplished with them. Those diamonds are dangerous little babbles. A woman with a piece of jewelry like this could be unstoppable.”
It sounded like science fiction, but Nick had heard enough crazy things that turned out to be true, he didn’t doubt Paul’s information.
“Imagine,” Paul continued, “dinner at the White House. Who would look twice at a lady’s bracelet? She walks right past security with everything she needs to wreak havoc in our country. Slip off to the bathroom, visit the security desk, flirt with the guards.” He shrugged. “She’d have to be trained to fight, because she obviously couldn’t take in guns or have a man with her if she wanted to avoid suspicion.”
And Carlie was desperate to level up in karate. However, she was a sweet woman and her shyness charmed Nick during their date. She also seemed passionate about helping people and gave food to the needy. It didn’t make sense that she wanted to hurt the people she helped.
“I don’t imagine Carlie—uh, the target—has anything like that. She seems pretty strapped for cash, having just opened her business and all.”
His boss remained silent, head tilted to the side. Nick cursed himself for using Carlie’s name. An agent had to remain dispassionate and impersonal when it came to their target. Carlie was not really his girlfriend—she was the objective of this mission. And if she planned terrorist actions, Nick would take her down.
He set the folder on the table, knowing he had to reassure Paul he was committed to the mission, or put his own life at risk. “I’ll look for the bracelet when I’m able. I can do some snooping tomorrow when I have dinner at her house.”
The older man stood up. “We need to speed things along. It’s imperative we know if she has that bracelet. Muhammad Khan might be up to something, covering it with charity work. If Carlie Hollis is involved, we need to stop her before it’s too late.”
Love & Deception (Agents in Love - Book 1) Page 4
