More Than a Mission

by Caridad Piñeiro

  He groaned.

  “Aidan?” he heard from beside him and realized Lucia had been talking to him.

  “What? I’m sorry. I was concentrating.”

  “You are such a guy,” she teased with a wide smile.

  He had to shake his head and laugh. There was just something refreshing about Lucia’s forthrightness when you were used to dealing with people who were generally deceptive.

  Like the woman running along the shore, he reminded himself, fighting her sexual pull.

  “Okay, so she’s…cute,” he confessed.

  Lucia laughed and let her binoculars drop down on the strap hanging around her neck. “I hope you’re a more convincing liar when you’re around her.”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said and headed to his room, intent on testing the waters in more ways than one.

  Elizabeth was nearly back to the cottage when she noticed first the lone swimmer moving toward her from the docks and then the pile of clothes and towel sitting on the beach just behind her home.

  Finishing her jog, she paused by the towel and placed her hands on her hips, took a few deep breaths as she watched the swimmer head into shore. His strokes were sure and even. They propelled him through the water elegantly as his head turned from side to side in a rhythmic breathing pattern.

  She recognized that head, she realized—Aidan. This was confirmed as he reached the shallows and got caught up in a surge of water. He body-surfed the wave in before he rose up out of the wash of the breakers.

  Elizabeth gulped and this time, had to force herself to breathe. He was all lean muscle and athletic grace. As he headed toward shore, he picked up his arms to slick back the longer strands of his hair from his face and all that muscle rippled beneath smooth tanned skin. He wasn’t wearing the loose shorts that so many American men wore, but a sinfully slinky Speedo that barely covered him. Barely being the operative word.

  Breathe, girl. Breathe. She fanned her face and blamed the hot flash on her jog.

  He smiled as he noticed her and hurried from the water, jumping over one wave and then battling the backward pull of the wash until he was standing before her. “You were right about how great the waters are. Although a little rough in spots.”

  “The swimming and surfing beaches are up more toward town. It’s a little rocky here. You’ve cut yourself,” she said and motioned to a raw scrape along his collarbone. “Let’s get that cleaned.”

  Aidan looked down to where a bit of blood mingled with the salt water and ran down his chest. He hadn’t planned it that way, but he wouldn’t waste a prime opportunity. Especially since he had noticed how she was checking him out as he had come onto shore. “I’ll be fine,” he said and met her gaze directly.

  She blushed and stammered, “W-we really should clean it. You wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

  Again it occurred to him that she was too easy to read, but then again, he hadn’t been all that obscure up in the hotel room with Lucia. Was it a cosmic joke that they should both obviously find themselves attracted to one another? Spy v. Spy Sexcapades before they had to do each other in?

  “Thanks,” he said, bending to pick up his clothes and looping the towel over his shoulders. She walked toward the cottage but didn’t offer to let him in as he had expected. As he had hoped, since in the pocket of his pants, he had another set of cameras ready to install. Instead, she pointed to a rustic outdoor shower by the back door.

  “Rinse off over there while I get some first aid stuff.”

  Elizabeth walked into the cottage and he waited for her to return before he stepped beneath the shower and turned on the water. He wanted an audience for his show. When he was certain she was observing him, he made a point of getting good and wet. Slick. Then, he ran his hands all along his body, as if wiping away some dirt, and as he did so, he could feel her gaze on him, tracking his every movement.

  Knowing she was a voyeur to his little act brought an immediate and unwanted reaction. The upside of it was that in turn, his rather obvious excitement created a riot of color along Elizabeth’s cheeks. She ripped her gaze from him then and nervously fingered the plastic box in her hands—the first aid kit.

  He stopped and shut off the water, grabbed his towel and dried himself as he walked toward her. He toyed with the idea of wrapping the towel around his waist, but decided against it. In this game, you used every advantage available.

  She had put the kit on a low stone wall by the shower and was fumbling with opening it as he approached.

  “Here, let me,” he said and took the kit from her hands, opened it and laid it back on top of the wall. He removed a tube of antiseptic cream, squeezed a little onto his finger. Working it into the scrape, he made sure to skip a section so that it might require her further attention.

  “There.” He was closing the tube when she reached out and took it from his hands.

  “You missed a spot.”

  Bingo, he thought.

  She placed a dot of the cream on her index finger and after, rubbed that finger along the top portion of the scrape. The action brought her close and he lowered his head, got into her personal space. Despite her run, she still smelled fresh. Feminine, although there was no hint of any perfume. An assassin couldn’t afford to leave even something as simple as a scent behind, Aidan realized, but then turned his attention back to her, putting himself where she couldn’t avoid him.

  Elizabeth stroked the cream into the scrape. His skin was warm beneath her finger. As she skipped her gaze up to his face, she finally realized how close they were. And that she had to reach past him and brush even closer to remove a bandage from the kit. She didn’t hesitate leaning toward him, even though her breast brushed his chest as she did so.

  Her nipple, already peaked from the chill of the ocean breeze, tightened even more and she shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked and rubbed his hands across her bare arms to warm her. It only brought another shiver. One that came from another place she didn’t want to acknowledge, so she pulled away from him and shot him a glare. He was obviously used to playing this game quite well, but she didn’t intend to be another notch acquired in his wanderings.

  “Don’t touch, remember?”

  Aidan didn’t push, although she could see that he was tempted to find out just how far he could.

  Stepping away from her, he held his hands up as if in surrender. “I get it. Thanks for the help.” With that, he grabbed his clothes, walked back to the beachfront and turned toward town.

  Elizabeth watched him go and wondered whether hiring him had been a mistake. She’d hoped getting a bartender would solve her problem, but this guy…

  As she watched his Speedo-clad backside saunter away, it confirmed her original impression that he would be nothing but trouble. When he turned, caught her observing him…again…and winked, she knew she was right.

  Aidan was going to give her nothing but grief. She had to keep a close eye on him. She couldn’t afford to let him get close or to work his way into her heart. The price to be paid for that was just too great.

  Chapter 5

  Frustration.

  That was the only word Aidan could use to describe his feelings on so many levels.

  A few days had gone by and he had yet to be able to charm his way into her cottage.

  Forget charming his way into her pants. The lady might as well have on a cast-iron chastity belt given how effectively she countered his every attempt to get close. She was a master, he’d give her that.

  Not to mention that in the days that he’d been in the restaurant, he’d seen a woman who was patient and kind and all-so-nice that it was hard to imagine a side of her that could kill a man in cold blood.

  Frustration. Again.

  On a positive note, he had actually managed to fake being a halfway decent bartender the first few days with Lucia’s help via the earpiece. Luckily, tastes in Leonia were rather pedestrian. By the end of the week, he had memorized the most commonly reques
ted libations and discovered the many attributes of the restaurant’s favorite wine. It was from a local vineyard along the coast and not all that far from Prince Reginald’s country estate. He wondered if the Sparrow had bought the wine before or after killing the prince.

  He and Lucia were partaking a glass of that vintage as they monitored Elizabeth’s activities thanks to the strategically placed cameras. Although the restaurant had closed nearly an hour earlier and all of the staff had gone home, Elizabeth continued to work.

  She finally gave a little nod of her head and seemingly satisfied, went back through the kitchen and out the rear door. Once in the backyard, another camera that he had set up in a hanging flower pot on the patio picked up her movement toward the cottage. She entered, closed the door and lights snapped on inside.

  “The Sparrow’s in her nest for the night,” he muttered and took another sip of the wine. He sat there, watching the silent screens, still pondering how he would get into the cottage to plant the other surveillance equipment.

  There was generally too much activity during working hours. Every night for the past few days, Elizabeth had gone straight home after work, making it impossible for him to sneak in.

  About half an hour later, he was still considering whether he could break in tomorrow between when he left the restaurant for the night and Elizabeth finally closing up, when he noticed the lights in the cottage snap off. The Sparrow was ready for bed.

  Surprisingly, however, Elizabeth walked out of the cottage a second later, clearly not dressed for sleep. She had on a black form-fitting cocktail dress. Strapless, it exposed the paler skin of her shoulders and arms, and dropped down to only mid-thigh, gracing him with a view of those sinfully long and lusciously toned legs.

  Aidan bolted upright in his chair. “It’s eleven-thirty. Where could she be going?”

  “Homebody, huh?” Lucia quipped again, but Aidan glared at her.

  “We need to track her.”

  “Time for you to track her. Time for me to plant some cameras,” Lucia said and rose from the table.

  Aidan grabbed the binoculars, turned on the infrared sighting and rushed to the windows. He immediately picked up her body heat moving down the walk leading from the restaurant to the street. Increasing the magnification, he could make out Elizabeth’s body shape turning onto the road before the building. “She’s coming into town.”

  “It is Friday night, Aidan,” Lucia said.

  When he faced her, he realized she had changed into all-black clothes.

  “You’ll bug the cottage?”

  She confirmed that she would with a nod of her head. “You’ll follow our little bird?”

  Glancing at his watch, he realized he only had a few minutes before Elizabeth walked past the hotel. No time to change from the jeans and T-shirt he had donned upon returning to the suite. So he just slipped his earpiece back in and grabbed his leather jacket.

  “Keep me advised of what’s going on,” he instructed and Lucia picked up one of the walkie-talkies set to the same frequency as the earpiece.

  “I’ll need about half an hour,” she advised and he raised an eyebrow at her comment.

  “Don’t think I can keep her occupied for that long?”

  Lucia laughed and shook her head. “Come on, Aidan. So far you’re batting zero in that department.”

  He was annoyed that she was right, but he had his reasons for not pushing too hard. If Elizabeth was the Sparrow, and there was little so far to contradict that possibility except his malfunctioning intuition, he couldn’t let himself rush things and maybe make a mistake. He had done that once before and Mitch had paid the price.

  “I’m a patient man, Lucia. Some women can’t be rushed,” he responded.

  “Whatever,” she replied with a flip of her hand. “Just give me half an hour.”

  With that, she left the suite and he hurried after her, but took the elevator while she went to the stairs so as to remain inconspicuous.

  He stood there, impatient, tapping his foot while he waited, hoping he wouldn’t miss Elizabeth as she passed by the building. Not that she would be all that hard to find. There weren’t that many places she could go on a Friday night at nearly midnight.

  As the elevator arrived and he stepped in, he made a mental list of the dozen or so establishments he had noticed on one of his earlier walks, imagining which of those someone like Elizabeth might favor.

  A nice quiet pub somewhere? Then he recalled what she was wearing. Not what you wore to hoist a pint with the locals. As he reached the ground floor, he hurried through the lobby and paused by the entrance to the hotel. Peering out, he caught sight of her about a block up, just turning onto one of the side streets, and smiled.

  The Sparrow was about to find out just how persuasive he could be.

  The Women’s Artists’ Cooperative was one of those places that became whatever you needed it to be. During the week the site hosted various literary events, displays of local art and the Wednesday Wing Woman social for women over sixty-five. On Friday and Saturday nights, it transformed into a club featuring local female bands of differing persuasions.

  For the women of Leonia, there was no better place to be on a Friday night than the WAC as it was affectionately known by the female population. For the men, the term WAC had a whole different meaning. Not necessarily a positive one.

  Most men in town knew to stay away on the weekends since the women at the WAC went there to be free of the pressures of man/woman mating rituals. It was a way that women could bond and enjoy themselves without any inhibitions.

  Elizabeth loved that about the WAC. Within its walls, she could spend time with the few women she counted as friends.

  Tonight they were meeting at the WAC to celebrate Natalie successfully passing her final exam. With her help, Natalie had learned the secrets to a scrumptious chocolate souffle. She smiled, thinking of the young woman’s excitement as she had told her.

  As she stepped through the door, she spotted her friends seated at a table near the dance floor and rushed over. On stage, a band of women barely past their teens energetically played a No Doubt tune. The singer was doing a passable imitation of Gwen Stefani and had even styled her dress and hairstyle to mimic the celebrity.

  At the table, she hugged all her friends and once she sat, they ordered another round of drinks and toasted Natalie’s success. Talk came quickly and easily with the other women as did the desire to dance as the band launched into their own version of “Cruel to be Kind.”

  Inclining her head in the direction of the dance floor, she said, “Anyone care to join me?”

  Natalie and Samantha, a designer with her own clothing shop in town, jumped at her suggestion. The last woman at the table—Kate, the owner of an upscale bath and body store—shook her head. “I’ll hold our spot.”

  Together, the three women eased onto a free spot at the edge of the dance floor and Elizabeth gave herself over to the beat, moving in time to the bass line of the song. Smiling and feeling relaxed for the first time in days, she danced through the song and then stayed on the floor when the band began another tune with a similar beat.

  She was enjoying the music and her friends until Natalie leaned over and said, “Check out what just walked in.”

  Elizabeth followed the direction of Natalie’s gaze. Aidan. He was sauntering past a score of women near the long runway from the club’s entrance to the main section of the WAC. As he passed and made his way to the bar, heads turned to watch him go by.

  She felt only a tiny bit of vindication that she wasn’t alone in her attraction to his physical attributes. That feeling was chased by an emotion she normally didn’t experience—jealousy.

  And then that unsettling feeling that had been plaguing her for the last few days resurfaced. She finally realized the cause of it—Aidan.

  Looking away from him, she moved until her back was to the bar and tried to rededicate herself to the music and the fun she had been having just moments earlie
r. A difficult thing to do with Aidan sitting at the bar. She told herself just to relax, but it was impossible.

  Returning to the table, she grabbed her glass to quench the thirst she had worked up while dancing, only to find it empty. Looking around, she realized there wasn’t a waitress in sight. She had only one choice—head to the bar or suffer being parched.

  As she glanced toward where Aidan was sitting barely twenty feet away, she noted his broad shoulders filling out the black leather of his jacket. Remembering the strength of them when he had been swimming the other day, she cursed beneath her breath.

  She would be damned if she let him wreck her night.

  Chapter 6

  He was drowning in a sea of estrogen, Aidan thought as he sipped on the beer he had ordered. Picking up the long-neck bottle, he took another slug as he tried not to look stupid surrounded by the dozens of women packed into the club. He’d obviously made a major gaffe.

  Either Elizabeth was gay—and he couldn’t believe that his radar was that off—or he’d stumbled into what was clearly intended to be a ladies’-only club.

  No wonder the bouncer, a rather burly woman he recalled seeing on the docks, had given him an odd and unfriendly glance as he had paid the admission fee.

  He shook his head at his own stupidity and his failure to reconnoiter the location. He also wondered how he would ever approach Elizabeth without seeming all stalkery. Best that he not—

  “Following me?” she said and leaned one elbow on the surface of the bar as she signaled with a wave of her hand for the bartender.

  Busted. He looked up at her and faked disinterest. With a shrug, he said, “Heard the band from out on the street. They sounded pretty good. Decided to see what was up.”

  A furrow appeared between her brows as she considered him. “Judging from your choice of music the other day, female bands of the indie persuasion are possibly your type. Although the black biker jacket screams hard-rock guy to me.”