Love, Lies, and British Spies

by Selena Laurence

  Eva continued fussing with the flower arrangement she’d placed on a console table under the living room windows.

  “Eva. I think it’s time you tell me what’s going on, don’t you?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing really,” she answered, her back still to him.

  He stood up and walked over to her. “Hey,” he said, gently pulling her back around toward him. “It’s obviously something. I want to help. Can I?”

  She laughed, bordering on hysterical. “Nope! You definitely cannot help.”

  “Try me.” He smiled down at her and then led her by the hand to the sofa where they sat next to each other. He held her hand gently in his and tried to look as encouraging as he knew how.

  “I got a phone call today. From my parents back in Kansas City?” He nodded, indicating she should continue.

  “You remember that I was engaged before I moved here?”

  He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t the sort of thing a man forgot when he was falling in love with a beautiful woman. And that, although he was grateful to the bloody bastard for sending her his direction, he could never forget that she had once cared enough about some other man that she’d considered spending her life with him. Instead, he just nodded at her again.

  “Well, he ran off with my cousin a few days before the wedding. She was going to be one of my bridesmaids. It was totally humiliating, but I thought I was over it. I mean what else could they do to me? He made me think I could never trust another man as long as I live. They ruined my wedding, embarrassed me in front of all my friends and family, and took my honeymoon trip to Jamaica!”

  Owen stifled a laugh before she could see him. It wasn’t really funny, but just so clichéd.

  “Well, today my mother told me that they’re getting married, which didn’t surprise me, and really I don’t care so much, except … ” she gritted her teeth now, “except that she’s also pregnant!”

  At this point she threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of complete exasperation. Ahhh, Owen thought, she still carried a torch for this guy. She wanted to have his children. He wondered if he might just fall into a million pieces on the floor right then and there.

  “I mean, I just, I just … ” she paused for moment. “I’d really like to be fine about it, but I’m not, I’m pissed. He’s such an enormous prick, I wish I’d taken a fork to his balls when I had the chance!”

  Owen choked a little as he laughed. “Remind me never to piss you off, love. It sounds like it could be a decidedly painful experience.”

  He had to admit to himself that though the relief he felt at hearing her call the ex “an enormous prick” was pathetic and completely inappropriate, he simply couldn’t help himself.

  They sat silently for a moment and then Eva said somewhat shyly, “Thank you for helping me with the furniture. I guess you must think I’m a little nuts.”

  “Possibly,” he answered. “But I’ve always had a thing for mental women.”

  She laughed and smacked his arm. “Most men would have run out of the flat screaming. I don’t think anyone’s ever just been there with me like that before.”

  Owen looked at her intently for a moment. “I’m starting to think that I’d be there with you no matter what you did, or where you did it,” he said quietly.

  “You’re as mental as I am then,” she responded with a little smile.

  He leaned forward and put his hand in the tangled mass of hair at the back of her head, and pulled her toward him, breathing in the warmth of her skin.

  “Owen?” she said quietly, as they leaned their foreheads against one another.

  “Yes?” he murmured.

  “Should we go to my bedroom now?”

  “God, yes,” he breathed into her ear.

  • • •

  Owen had only ever experienced two types of “first times” with women. The first was the fast, furious and passionate variety. Tearing clothes, panting frantically, shagging hard. When it was over it felt more like you’d run a marathon or engaged in warfare than done anything remotely resembling an act of love. Any resulting relationship was usually as fast and furious as the sex had been.

  The second variety had only happened a couple of times, at the beginning of what had become longer-term romances. Those events were tender, but awkward, neither party knowing exactly what to do or how to act. Some fumbling, some embarrassment; it always got better the next time around, but that first time was difficult even when he cared deeply for the other person.

  But, with Eva, he finally discovered a third type of “first time,” and he knew that this type was something you probably only found once in your lifetime. This was what all those poems about love described, what breathless women saw in those “chick flicks.” This was it. She was it.

  As they fell onto the bed in a tumbled heap, Owen’s hands trembled and he kissed her slowly, feathering touches up and down her arms.

  “Are you sure this is all right?” he asked with a little grin. “I mean I don’t want to take advantage when you’ve not been in your right mind.”

  “It’s more than all right,” she whispered. “In fact, if you back out now I’ll never forgive you.”

  She said it with a certain teasing lilt to her voice, but he knew she meant it. Luckily, he had absolutely no interest in rejecting her now or any other time, so he simply began kissing her more ardently, sucking gently on her lips, and stroking his thumb over her nipples through her worn t-shirt.

  Eva wound her hands through his hair and sighed into his mouth. It was a small whisper of breath, but it made him feel like he had when he’d climbed Mt. Everest after a band of Tibetan rebels — the sense of accomplishment was so immense. He had made her sigh like that, him. He could only imagine what he’d feel like if all went as it should over the next hour … or two or three.

  Eva pushed up underneath him, squirming until he stopped kissing her neck and looked at her inquisitively. “Too many clothes,” she gasped.

  Ahh, now that he could fix. He sat up on his knees, straddling her hips while she looked up at him, a mysterious smile on her face. Slowly he pulled the bottom of his t-shirt up and over his head, smiling back at her the entire time.

  “Mmmm,” she hummed at him. “It’s even better than I imagined.”

  As she reached up to stroke his chest, he began to unbutton his jeans. She continued to look at him intently, smoothing her cool hands over his torso. He almost didn’t want to have to stand up and break the contact, but he did feel it was crucial to shed the pants, so he stood up next to the bed, and dropped trou and boxers, just going for it. There he stood, in all his glory, while the woman in question was still completely clothed.

  He looked down at her and she looked up at him, her cheeks and chest flushed a soft pink. She licked her lips. He pounced, kissing her enthusiastically, unbuttoning her cut-offs and yanking them down. She kicked them off of her ankles and onto the floor. He reached behind her shoulders and pulled her into a sitting position and removed her annoying top at the same time. As she lay back down, he placed a knee in between her legs and slowly followed her onto the bed.

  “Better?” he queried.

  “Much,” she breathed.

  He slowly kissed his way down her neck and chest, reaching the front clasp of her bra which he skillfully popped open.

  “Let’s lose this, shall we?” He smirked at her, and slid it down her arms, tossing it on the floor in the ever-growing heap.

  He continued working his way down her body, kissing and licking to his heart’s content until he reached her panties.

  “Oh, my,” he rumbled. “These are in my way. Do you mind?” he said in his most proper British inflections.

  Eva giggled. “By all means, sir,” she responded.

  As he continued kissing her and exploring her amazing form, Owen had the strangest pain in his heart, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He somehow knew that it was what you were supposed to feel when you made love to someone — not had
sex, but made love. Everywhere she touched him tingled, everything she did to him made his heart flutter inside his chest. He felt the need to climb inside her, but not just into her body, into her very soul. He wanted to feel what she felt, think what she thought, know what she knew. It scared him more than any foreign agent with a gun ever had.

  Eva moaned his name, pulling Owen out of his euphoric state for a moment. “Owen,” she said, “I want you, but I can’t take another betrayal. I can’t be with someone I can’t trust.”

  He looked down at her, kissing her on the mouth gently. “My feelings for you are absolutely real, love. I promise. I’m all yours, and only yours, if you’ll have me.”

  She sighed, and then a small smile appeared on her face. “I’m on the pill, and I didn’t think I’d ever trust anyone again, but I trust you — completely.”

  And thank whatever god covered this territory — if it had been left up to Owen, he might have remembered a few hours after the act, but there was no way issues of birth control or personal protection were making it through the haze in his head right then.

  He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and watching her beautiful mouth as her lips parted. She raised her knees, wrapped her long legs around his waist and positioned herself perfectly.

  He put his head down alongside her ear and whispered, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.” Then he slid in.

  Her moan as he entered her nearly ended their first time right that minute. He took a sharp breath and tensed for a moment, controlling himself. She wiggled underneath him and he brushed his palm along her cheek. Her eyes opened and she looked at him with what he could only describe as pure love.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  “I’ve never been better,” she replied.

  He began to move inside of her, and they continued to stare into each other’s eyes. The experience was raw and intense and utterly fantastic. It was as if he’d been given thousands of new nerve endings. Every stroke inside of her lit up his entire body sending sparks and little shocks and plumes of aching pleasure throughout him. When her breathing became even more ragged, he stopped moving and pushed into her hard. She tilted her hips up and he felt the most glorious pulsing as she called out his name. Before she could even finish, he shuddered on top of her and growled into her hair, “Bloody hell, you’re amazing.”

  Owen spent the remainder of that night lying with Eva in his arms, watching her sleep, and thinking long and hard about what would come next. He had known he was falling in love with her ever since they’d sat together in that tiny teashop and she’d teared up when he sang to her. Now that he’d been stripped bare with her, not just physically but down to his core, his feelings had grown so strong it was almost painful. The idea of being away from her, of not having her in his life, was unbearable. He had never wanted anything the way he wanted Eva.

  But, what kind of a relationship could you have with someone when it was based on deception? How could he say he was trustworthy and lie to her in the same breath? If he told her the truth about himself, about what he was paid to do, he risked having her kick him to the curb. And, even if she did accept it, she would lose all control over where she lived, how she traveled, and with whom she was friends. One of the things he loved so much about her was her joyous, spontaneous approach to life. The way she could be so pleased at something like an impromptu visit to an outdoor market, or so at peace in the ancient little flat she’d decorated and now, redecorated. How could he take that away from her without changing who she was? How could he explain to her that who he was inside had nothing to do with the things he’d done?

  On the other hand, if he continued his cover story, she could live her life the way she wanted. He’d never have to face the possibility that she didn’t want to be with someone who did what he did for a living, and she could even go on assignments with him. They could travel the world together, and he could watch her bring that unbridled passion to everything they did. He’d never have to be without her, he’d never have to ask her to change her life: he’d just always have to lie to her. Always.

  By the time Eva awoke the morning after their first time, Owen’s decision was made, and the future was set in motion.

  Chapter Five

  Paris — 22:40 8 September

  When the house lights came up in the theatre, Derrick and Alicia stood up in the technical booth.

  “What a brilliant show,” Alicia gushed.

  Derrick looked at her with an uncharacteristic roll of his eyes. “Oh, yeah, all you lasses think Owen Martin is so bloody wonderful. Every other man within a hundred kilometers is just a useless git.”

  “Derrick you almost sound jealous, love, better be careful,” Alicia responded laughing.

  “Me? Jealous of Owen? Not bloody likely! Have you seen the way the wanker dresses … ?”

  “Derrick … ”

  “No, really, he looks like one of those gits from a boy band … ”

  “Good God, Derrick! Shut it!” Alicia told him.

  Derrick sputtered, unable to formulate a response until he saw the horrified expression on Alicia’s face and looked where she was pointing.

  “Holy hell,” he breathed, “Eva’s gone.”

  • • •

  Owen walked off-stage riding that wave of adrenaline he always had at the end of a great show. He was very pleased with the reception his new material had gotten, and he was quite full of himself for his impromptu performance of the song he’d written for Eva. He entered his dressing room and packed up his guitar. He was rummaging through the mini-fridge looking for a good bottle of ale when Derrick and Alicia entered. They both came running down the hall, breathing heavily, and then ground to a halt at the doorway.

  Owen looked up from where he was crouching on the floor in front of the small fridge, “Cheers, mates! What a brilliant night, yeah?”

  Derrick grimaced and looked at Alicia, “Uh, yeah lad, you were bloody fantastic. What did Eva think of her song?” he continued, embarking on the Hail Mary of all fishing expeditions.

  “Oh, I don’t know, she hasn’t gotten back here yet,” Owen said turning to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of … something. “What tosser put this in my fridge? Does this even qualify as ale?”

  Alicia and Derrick looked at each other glumly. They had scoured the theatre — no Eva. If she wasn’t here with Owen then they had to fess up to the truth. Alicia took a step towards him and said, “We need to chat with you for a bit.”

  He looked up at her and blinked as if just realizing that she was in the room. Flashing her a quick smile he stood up in one smooth movement, bottle still in hand. “Of course, love, what’s up?”

  Derrick and Alicia traded looks and Derrick cleared his throat. “You know we were up in the booth, right, mate?”

  Heart beating a rapid tattoo, Owen nodded.

  “Well, we watched Eva very carefully. One of us had our eye on her the whole time.”

  “You bloody well better have,” Owen gritted out.

  Alicia reached out and touched Owen’s arm. “The Abdul brothers were in the audience as well.”

  Owen glanced from Alicia to Derrick. “One of you had better get to the point bloody quick or I’m going to start breaking things and I don’t mean the furniture.” He slammed the bottle down on the dressing table with such force that it shattered and sent beer foaming all over the table top and onto floor.

  Alicia blanched and Derrick quickly moved to place himself between her and Owen. It was a silly gesture since Alicia was just as well trained in combat as Derrick, but it still hinted at a sweetness that was unexpected from MI6’s god of good times.

  “Look,” Derrick said slowly, “we kept an eye on the situation the entire time. We couldn’t go charging down there and tip them off that we were on to them. We weren’t sure what weapons they might have and there were just too many civilians — including Eva — nearby to risk one of them pulling a gun and blasting his way out of there. W
e figured they couldn’t get away in the midst of all those people, so we radioed down and set two of the security agents on the exit doors.”

  “Where is she?” Owen demanded.

  Alicia sighed heavily. “We don’t know.”

  “What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?” Owen bellowed.

  “Look, lad, let’s not panic yet,” Derrick said putting his hands out as if to hold off Owen’s advance.

  “No? Don’t panic you say? Buggering shite, Derrick! Hassam knew I was the agent scheduled to receive the intelligence, he hates me and he wanted to put a crimp in the works, so he took my wife, man, my wife!” Owen paced up and down the tiny room running his hands through his hair. “I trusted the two of you with the one person who means more to me than anyone else in this world and you lost her?”

  Alicia shot Derrick a look of warning as he started to open his mouth again. He shut it promptly.

  “Owen,” she said in her most soothing tones, “As of this minute we’ve got no proof of what’s happened. We’ve got to keep up appearances. You’ve got to go on ahead and do the job. You’re supposed to meet the courier in a couple of hours. Derrick and I will try to figure out where Eva’s gone off to.”

  “She wouldn’t ‘go off’ anywhere without telling me first,” Owen snarled back. “And you’re completely cracked if you think I’m going to do that job while Eva’s missing.”

  “They’re expecting you, Owen,” Derrick said carefully.

  “Well, that’s too damn bad.” Owen went to the coat rack and started putting on his leather jacket.

  “You can’t go after her, Owen!” Alicia said walking up behind him. “It’ll just tip your hand to Hassam. He’ll know without a doubt that she’s important to you, and then what might he do? There are times to play the hero, but this isn’t one of them.”

  “You can’t skip out on this assignment, mate,” Derrick argued. “If your career doesn’t matter then think about what this means to British security. This is our one shot to make contact with those Iranian rebels. If we don’t, there may be no other way to gain a toehold in that area.”