True Deceptions (True Lies)

by Veronica Forand

  Several hours later, a vibration on his phone woke him. Someone was at the front door. He grabbed his gun and headed to the monitor in the closet to see who thought a five a.m. visit was a good idea. A sharp intake of air, a high-pitched squeak, and a deep laugh greeted him as he left his bedroom.

  What the hell?

  In the foyer, a man wearing a delivery service uniform and a ball cap pulled over his eyes pointed a gun at Cassie, who stood against a wall with wide eyes and a pale complexion.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Put the gun down, Tucker.”

  “Tucker?” Cassie asked in a faint voice. She appeared unable to function and, may God strike him dead, enticing as hell wearing a low-cut pink nightgown, probably one of Pauline’s purchases.

  Tucker noticed. His eyes lingered on her breasts as he aimed the gun at her. Nicola would have held her head up and spit in his face, but Cassie wasn’t the spit in the face type. She was the “die while pleading for her life” type.

  Tucker carried a large envelope in one hand and continued to train his gun at Cassie, who stood several inches taller than her assailant. He turned toward Simon and tipped the brim of his baseball cap back, revealing his pretty boy face. “I’m impressed with your ability to recognize me. Cassie thought I was with DHL, not the man she’d had lunch with two months ago.”

  Simon aimed at Tucker’s forehead. “I have an innate ability to spot an asshole, even one in disguise. Put the gun down.”

  Tucker chuckled. “I wanted to see how she’s doing. Not very well. I could have been an assassin.” He faced her. “Didn’t you learn anything in training?”

  Cassie backed into the table behind her and clenched her hands together, tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Her breathing sounded shallow and rapid. Not the reaction expected of a field operative.

  Simon sealed his emotions inside and pointed his Glock toward the floor. “Go ahead, shoot her. I could care less, but don’t get blood all over the flat. By the way, you suck at choosing competent agents. Next time, send me someone at least as good as Nicola.”

  Tucker smirked and holstered the gun. “Same cold bastard as always.”

  Leaving Tucker with Cassie, Simon headed to the kitchen for a shot of something strong. Cassie’s unique knowledge of robotics applications, particularly as they applied to drones, would protect her from Tucker’s threats for a little while, until Simon could locate a safe position for her, away from fieldwork.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I think Miss Watson here is quite necessary,” Tucker called out to him. “Apparently, no one else is as capable in her minuscule area of expertise. I just hope she doesn’t get you killed before you complete your objective.”

  By the time Simon had returned to the foyer, Tucker had wrapped his arm around Cassie and pulled her in close. She focused her gaze away from him. Rushing to comfort her would give Tucker too much ammunition to use against them. Humiliation was his specialty.

  Simon took a sip of the vodka, his temper almost at the boiling point, and focused on his guest, ignoring the trembling woman in his arms. “Where’s Pauline? I don’t recall inviting you into my home.”

  “I prefer a more personal approach lately, so I reassigned her.”

  Cassie straightened up to her full height, a good three inches taller than Tucker. For a moment, Simon thought she’d fight him, but she remained passive. Tucker held her tight.

  “Too bad. She’s more competent than you and has better legs.”

  “This is for your partner.” Tucker released her and then threw the large envelope in his hand at Simon’s head.

  Simon caught it with ease and opened the package. A U.S. Passport and a California driver’s license for Cassie Watson. They’d made her an American. He’d prefer she was British, but wouldn’t challenge Tucker. Not yet.

  “I want her to accompany you on the Sierra Leone transaction. She’ll benefit from the experience,” Tucker said. He wore a grin that someone would punch off his face someday.

  “She’s not ready.”

  “If she’s not ready now, she won’t be ready for Jordan, which means she’s expendable.” The prat had enough authority to hamper Simon’s efforts as well as to pull Cassie out of his operation and place her in some even more dangerous assignment.

  A deep-rooted desire to protect her overwhelmed Simon, despite the professional instincts that urged him to let this beautiful weak link in his team fade into obscurity.

  “On the other hand,” he said, “I could use a beautiful woman to accompany me.”

  She wasn’t ready. She’d never be ready. Beautiful, smart—and at the same time stupid enough to open the door for a stranger with a gun. She’d be a liability. Maybe Henry could watch her while he and Alex made the exchange. On a good note, Tucker had no idea who Simon worked with when he made the transactions, and he never would. The service didn’t want a direct connection to him, or to know too much about how he structured his deals. The arrangement protected both him and the SIS.

  He passed Tucker and placed his hand on the doorknob. “I have all I need. You’ll hear from me after the exchange.”

  As soon as he was out the door, Simon locked it.

  “I’m so sorry. He woke me up, and I forgot the protocol.” Cassie’s words came out between heavy breaths that bordered on sobs.

  Anger at Tucker ignited his temper. Fury at Cassie’s passive personality fueled it further. Most of all he was mad at himself for wanting to protect her. He stormed toward her. “You forgot to think? You forgot to pause before allowing a potential enemy with a gun into our fortress? You forgot you’re working and not taking an extended vacation?”

  “He woke me up and had a package. I didn’t think it should be left in the hall.” Her voice trembled and revealed just how unprepared she was for this assignment. The tear on her cheek put him over the edge.

  He tried to contain his snarl, but he could feel his lips tighten and curl. “I have two days to fix you before we leave for Bulgaria.” He needed a new plan to keep them both alive.

  “Fix me?”

  “You’re broken.” He shook his head. “Don’t leave the flat. And change into something less like that.” He pointed at the nightgown he wanted to rip off her body, then headed to the bedroom to put on some running clothes. After a few kilometers, he’d regain control of his emotions.

  An hour later, when he returned from his run, sweaty, but still tense, Cassie sat in the middle of the floor in tight black shorts and a jog bra—still dressed in a manner that could drive a man crazy with desire. He tried not to stare. Her legs stretched out in front of her, and her head was planted on her knees. How could he function with her beside him all the time? He wanted to strangle her, comfort her, and fuck her senseless. He needed a cold shower.

  She lifted her head up and rolled onto her back with her arms overhead. “I agree with Tucker. I’m not ready for this. If I can be reassigned back to my desk job, I swear I’ll be out of your hair by lunch.”

  “You’re too naive” He knelt next to her and placed a hand on the ground by her waist. “Do you understand how serious this is? If you try to leave, they’ll kill you. They won’t think twice about it in order to protect my cover. The only way I can help you through this is by having your complete trust and obedience. Don’t do anything without asking me, including opening the door. I’m sorry if that sounds dictatorial, but you have no survival instincts.”

  Tears formed again and dripped past long eyelashes onto the floor. “I don’t know why they picked me. I’m useless. Would you really have let him shoot me?”

  The worse she felt about herself, the more ineffective she would become. He lowered his voice. “Tucker likes to test people. If I show I care about you in even the most benign professional manner, then threats against you will become more frequent. We’ll make it work. You have your strengths.”

  “Like what?” Wiping her eyes, she sniffed.

  He brushed his hand through her hair, calming her, inflam
ing himself. “You appear too beautiful to be intelligent. Men will assume you have nothing of substance in your head. That’s great for intelligence gathering. They’ll say things in front of you they shouldn’t.”

  “Great. I look like a bimbo.”

  He ignored her complaint. “From what I’ve read from our sources in the States, you understand drone technology better than some of the top computer scientists at the Pentagon.”

  “They’re catching up. There are a few new languages only a handful of people have had access to. Is that why I’m here?” She swallowed hard, bringing his attention to her swanlike neck.

  He nodded. “I don’t know how drones work. I’ll need to rely on you when it comes to choosing the right type for an as yet unnamed buyer.”

  “So I’m not useless.”

  “No.”

  “And you don’t mind me being your partner?”

  He minded. He’d have to use every precaution available to protect her. It made the assignment twice as dangerous. “Not at all.”

  A smile blossomed on her face. Not a big smile—a slight smile, revealing a renewed ounce of confidence. The blasted tears, however, still flowed.

  Make her more confident, Simon. Get her head back in the game.

  He leaned in to kiss her lips, but veered off and kissed her cheek. She tasted salty and sad. He kissed her again on the corner of her mouth. Second thoughts stalled him from continuing until she lifted her head and rested her hands on his shoulders. She looked at him with too much trust, too much faith. His hands caressed the back of her neck as he traced her lips with his tongue. Her moan called to him. He needed more. Just a little more. He stretched out next to her, but never let her go. His tongue touched hers, tasting her fading fear and her renewed spirit. She pulled him closer, but Simon’s control had perched itself on the edge of a very dangerous cliff. If he continued, they’d be naked within minutes.

  He groaned and pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek. “Like I said, you’re beautiful, desirable, and have a brilliant mind. I’m lucky to have you with me.”

  After he released her, she remained on the floor and shut her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “Go take a shower. We’ll reconvene at breakfast. I need to prep you for our Bulgaria trip.” His extreme hunger for her took him by surprise. She was cocaine to a junkie, calling to him, luring him into an addiction he didn’t want and knew he wouldn’t be able to handle. He tried to return his thoughts to the logistics of the next arms deal. All he could think about, however, was kissing her again. After she left the sitting room for the bathroom, he headed outside for another run around Battersea Park.

  Chapter Seven

  During college, Cassie had traveled across Europe with a backpack and a group of friends. They’d stayed at youth hostels throughout France, Germany, Austria, and Hungary, and consumed cheap wine, local cheeses, and fresh bread. The experience had created lifelong memories. Nothing, however, equaled traveling with Simon.

  They flew first class from Heathrow Airport directly to Sofia. Wide seats, champagne, and endless little luxuries made the trip easy and fun. A driver picked them up in a black Bentley to transport them to the Opera Sofia Hotel. Once in the car, the driver poured them each more champagne. As always, Simon sniffed both glasses before handing one to Cassie.

  “Will we have time for sightseeing?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “How long will we be here?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  He remained silent the rest of the drive, but she didn’t care. There was so much to see out the window. Every once and a while, her mouth dropped open at the sheer opulence of everything around her. The National Theater was all lit up. She’d read about it in the tour book she’d purchased on one of her walks up and down the Thames. The urge to say “wow” raced through her, but she held back, as a professional should. Simon, on the other hand, acted as though he traveled like this all the time. He probably did.

  During the flight and the ride from the Sofia airport to the hotel, Simon had kept one hand on her at all times. A solid and secure hand. He’d even wrapped an arm around her as someone carried their luggage up to the hotel suite. What would it be like to really attract a man like Simon? Would he be possessive and overbearing? Yep. On the other hand, he’d never be needy. He just didn’t seem like the type. Just now he held her like she was his possession. His control felt comforting, but confining. Cassie didn’t want to be owned, just appreciated.

  Back at his flat, Simon had provided limited details of her role in Sofia, but never offered anything specific. Her expertise wouldn’t be necessary, but her presence would. That would have to be good enough. She’d do exactly what he asked of her and become an asset to the team. She refused to let him down again.

  When the bellboy opened the door to their huge suite, Cassie tried to appear bored at the Egyptian motif, glancing at her nails to check for chips in the manicure. Yet the sight of the biggest hotel suite she’d ever seen—with a living area, a dining area and two bedrooms—made her feel like a child on her first visit to Harrods.

  As soon as the door shut, Simon let her go. The warmth of his arm faded away, leaving her with a chill at her waist. He walked around the room scanning the light fixtures, the television, and the furniture.

  “I need to make a few phone calls. Stay out here, order us some dinner, and don’t open the door for anyone without me next to you.” He disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

  “Okay,” she spoke to the closed door.

  What was the assignment? Would someone point a gun at her again? Fear coiled in her stomach. Despite the interesting sights, she wanted to go back to the office. Action adventure movies made this look exciting. In reality, the tension made her sick.

  After ordering a steak and a beer for Simon and a salad and some orange juice for herself, she called out to him, but he didn’t answer. Listening at his door wasn’t an option, so she sat on the couch and turned on the television. There was only one channel in English, showing a documentary about farm subsidies. She turned the television off, stared out the window, and sighed. The lights at night created a warm, golden glow over the city. She longed to meander through the streets. It would be easier to handle her imprisonment in the luxury hotel if she had a task to focus on.

  Boredom almost knocked her unconscious, but she revived at the knock that sounded on the door to the suite. She tapped on Simon’s door, telling him they had visitors. The memory of Tucker’s armed entry squeezed her gut. Her fear subsided a bit when Simon emerged from the bedroom with his gun in his hand. Thank God for overkill.

  He remained a step behind her with a relaxed expression in his face. Wearing black tailored pants and a black button down shirt, he looked like he owned half the city. Like a person who feared nothing. “Go ahead and ask who it is.”

  She peered through the peephole. Henry, Simon’s friend, stood directly in front of the door and Alex, his wife, stood partially in view as well. Despite the refraction of the small glass hole distorting their faces, they still appeared too perfect for words.

  “It’s Henry and Alex,” she said to Simon.

  He nodded to her, and she opened the door. Henry and Alex walked in, aristocrats to the core. It was obvious they’d been born to wealth and privilege. At least Henry was—she wasn’t sure about Alex’s background. Dressed in jeans and a navy blazer, he carried a small Louis Vuitton suitcase and placed it next to the coffee table.

  “Nice to see you again, Cassie.” Alex’s hair had no pink now. Instead she’d colored it a rich, dark chocolate. Her outfit, loose fitting pants and a silk blouse, matched her title more than the ripped jeans and oversize shirt she’d worn when they’d first met.

  Alex gave her a friendly hug, but Henry just stared with an eyebrow raised. Was he shocked to see her?

  Simon walked up behind Cassie and held her waist with one arm. “I needed some companionship on this trip.”

  He kissed Cassie’s neck and sho
wered her with the affection he showed only in public. Her body, however, didn’t understand that the tender actions meant nothing to him. Heat slithered down her limbs, and she pressed closer, her head resting on his shoulder. She wanted him, especially since the other night on the floor. His kisses then had been heaven, whether they were real or not. She’d love to read his mind and know if he had feelings for her or if he was merely a master in artifice. Probably the latter.

  “Nice location,” Henry said as he and Simon shook hands.

  “It’s convenient.”

  Alex flopped on the couch. “What are the plans for dinner? I’m starving.”

  “I ordered room service for the two of us, but maybe we can go to a nearby restaurant?” Cassie asked, glancing at Simon.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to be seen until the meeting.” Apparently, arriving in a Bentley at the most expensive hotel in the city wouldn’t get them noticed, but slipping into a small restaurant would.

  Alex picked up the phone on the table next to her and ordered what sounded like a pantry full of food, but she was speaking in another language, so Cassie wasn’t sure.

  “I ordered you grilled chicken and salad,” she told Henry, who nodded and went to the minibar to pour himself a drink.

  When all the meals had arrived, the four sat around the dining room table. Alex had a pile of food in front of her. Pasta, steak, some green beans, and a large slice of fruit torte. For such a little woman, she ate like a linebacker.

  Simon turned toward Alex. “We leave at five a.m. We should return by eleven.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be ready, as long as room service delivers some tea by four forty-five.”

  “Tea?” Henry asked.

  Alex shrugged. “Trying to acclimate to life as a British countess.”

  Simon had moved closer to Cassie and clasped her hand, but focused on Alex.

  “I don’t care what you drink, just be ready.” Simon then turned to Henry, ignoring Cassie, except for the slow, sensual circles his thumb was making in the center of her palm. “If you don’t hear from us by noon, leave without us.”