Sex, Lies & Lace (Sex and Lies Book 4)

by Kris Calvert

  “Special training, huh?”

  I could tell by his voice that he didn’t believe me. “Yes. But I’ll be back in a couple of days. Okay?”

  “Okay, Gip.”

  “And Dad?”

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “I love you. I love you very much. I know it hasn’t been easy raising me on your own, but thank you for everything you do for me.”

  He let out a nervous laugh on the other end. “Okay, honey. I’ll let you go.”

  “Bye Daddy.”

  When I hung up, I felt tears well in my eyes. I needed this to be over so I could go back to the life I loved—the life I’d just figured out.

  “Are you ready?” King blew back into the sunken living room, his eyes bright and full of adrenaline.

  I nodded, not feeling as juiced about what we were about to embark upon as he was. Still, I was all in. It was King and me against the world—literally.

  He locked up the lake house and I stood on the front porch staring at the star filled sky above us. Tomorrow night I’d be looking at the same stars from across the globe while I waited for two pounds of Semtex to decimate a factory. It all seemed a little surreal and yet it was about to happen.

  King paused at the door and stared at me. “I’m sorry for getting you involved in this, Reagan. All I ever wanted to do was to—”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I only wanted to love you. I thought somewhere in the back of my mind that you of all people could understand the life I have. That you could accept it, and maybe even live it—with me.”

  I nodded. I knew he was being sincere and I understood what he meant. Female agents were almost always single or married to another agent. It took a certain kind of confident man to appreciate the life of an FBI operative and an even more confident man to be married to one. “I know,” I said. Because I did know.

  “Let’s roll.”

  There were a myriad of outcomes to this assignment. We could be successful and both come back alive or perhaps only one of us would make it. We could be caught and imprisoned in a Russian jail for the rest of our lives or be tortured. As we drove away from the lake house, I wondered if I would ever see it or Rose Hill again. I wondered if I would ever see my life again.

  After takeoff, King wanted to brief me on everything he and Nyx knew that I didn’t. She’d long since left Louisiana, wishing us luck and asking us to report back to her if we made it out alive. It seemed as if no one was willing to bank on the likelihood of that happening.

  The papers and photos were laid out in front of me. King went over how he’d bombed the factory in Bangalore. He explained how inactive excipients worked in drugs and how the Russians and the Syrian based terrorists were working together to take out as many westerners at one time as they could. The longer he spoke and the more details he covered, the more I realized how important the mission was. We were off to avert the intentional murder of possibly a millions westerners. There was no scenario other than success that didn’t end badly. We had to carry out the mission. Failure was not an option.

  But we needed a new plan. With ROC on to King’s alias, we needed to change how we would access the plant. So we formulated another idea—an idea so complex and yet simple.

  “I know this is a lot, Reagan. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  “I could say that I don’t think I have a choice, but I know I have a choice. I’m ready. I can do this. But—.”

  “But what?”

  I considered telling him what my father confessed to me. I thought about coming clean as Dad had, but then realized it served no purpose in the mission. It was a personal matter that was only significant to me—and the mission wasn’t about me. Instead I discussed inconsequential details. “What if I stumble or sound too American with my Russian accent?”

  “Do you really think your Russian isn’t adequate?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s good. I’m good.”

  King threw his arm around me, pulling me close to him on the couch. It was the first time since Lilah crashed our party that he’d showed me any affection.

  I leaned into his chest and took a deep breath.

  “Listen,” he began. “I’m sorry about tonight. I’m sorry that everything was ruined.”

  “I’m not,” I said sitting up to look him in the eye. “If both of our covers hadn’t been blown, you would’ve given me the best night of my life and then left for Russia and—” I hesitated thinking of the consequences. “I just feel better being with you on this one. You know, fifty-fifty.”

  King raised his eyebrows. “I know you have a hard time thinking of me as anything but a doctor, but I’m trained for this just like you—actually better than you so, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “No,” I replied shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant. Put your ego away and listen to me with your heart. Regardless of whether we triumph or fail, we’ll be together. It’s actually kind of romantic.”

  “Romantic for whom? No one would think this was romantic except people like us.”

  “I’m just sad that I didn’t get to spend more time on your special couch tonight,” I said, squirming in my seat.

  “Ah,” he said kissing the top of my head. “The Tantra chair. You liked it.”

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  King nodded and a silly grin spread across his face. “It was hot. You were smokin’ hot.”

  “Well I don’t have a lot to compare it to, but yes. Too bad you don’t have one on the plane.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I only have a bed. And we should probably get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

  “Ummm.”

  I didn’t want to be the one to suggest that I join the mile high club, but in light of the fact that I could be walking into my own deathtrap, I thought it important to let King know that like a soldier going off to war, I wanted to be sent off like a rock star.

  “Ummm what?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “What if this is our last night together? Do you really want it to be filled with surveillance photos of your creepy partner, Dr. Frankenstein and the blueprints for SciTech in Ussuriysk, Russia? Or would you rather be making love to your…girlfriend?”

  “Are you my girlfriend?” he asked.

  “Hell yes, I am. No other woman would walk into this firestorm. I’m willing to risk my life to protect yours.”

  “And what if I’m only here to protect your life?”

  “Then I would have to say you are prime boyfriend material.”

  King raised one sexy eyebrow. “When you put it like that, how can I resist taking my girlfriend to the bedroom? I mean, all things being fifty-fifty.”

  I stood and took both of his hands in mine. “You can’t.”

  King kissed me and then said the words I wanted to hear. I didn’t want them in the throes of passion, I didn’t want them when we were in a foxhole taking fire, I wanted them in a moment just like this. “I love you, Reagan.”

  “I love you, too.”

  27

  REAGAN

  The ten-hour flight passed quickly, with King holding me in his arms. We would land and check into a local hotel—the jet needed to leave the ground almost as soon as it landed. The pilots would head across the Sea of Japan, landing in Sapporo where they would wait for King’s signal to return. We couldn’t risk the plane sitting around and drawing attention. The airfield would assume it was a stop for refueling, but King and I would deplane undetected.

  Just before we landed, he buckled me into my seat and kissed my lips. My new disguise was ingenious, but also gave me a glimpse into what our lives could possibly look like in the future.

  King was to play the deaf mute, and I would gain access to the factory. We’d managed to dummy up King’s old credentials with my photo in the hopes I would pass as a pregnant factory worker—pregnant with Semtex plastic explosives and C4.

  Leaving
the plane, King gave the three pilots a nod. Operation Morpheus was underway.

  We walked a mile to a rundown hotel where we would stay for a few hours. I needed to wait for the third shift to come on board before trying to breach the building. Security wasn’t as tight during the evening hours and King’s hope was that since we were a day earlier than his original plan we would get a jumpstart on any extra Russian rent a cops brought in just for us.

  Intel told us they were expecting King—tomorrow. And like inconsiderate in-laws at the holidays—we were showing up early.

  In my perfect Russian, I paid cash for our room and explained that King couldn’t hear. “Moy muzh ne mozhet uslyshat’. On glukh.”

  We passed the desk without delay and I felt a sense of accomplishment just checking into the seedy hotel.

  The cost was four thousand rubles, or roughly sixty dollars, and as we climbed the rickety stairs, I knew why.

  King opened the door to the stale hotel room that smelled of cigarettes and old linens. Too nervous to sit still, I paced the room as King worked from the table with a broken hanging light.

  “Let’s go over it one more time, Reagan.”

  “Net. YA ponimayu, moyu rabotu.”

  “In English please, Reagan.”

  I stopped pacing and realized I wasn’t just speaking in Russian, I was thinking in Russian. “Sorry. I don’t need to go over it again. I understand my job. I’m ready.”

  King glanced at the clock and then to my fake pregnant belly and C4 padded bra that lay on the ramshackle bed. The explosive baby wasn’t the most high-tech way to smuggle the volatile agents into the building, but our communication devices were second to none.

  The small microphone placed behind my ear was a millimeter in diameter and look like a freckle on my neck. The receiver deep in my ear canal could only be detected by the kind of otoscope used by a doctor. Thankfully, King had one on hand to expertly place it inside my ear. He would be with me every step of the way.

  After strapping the explosives to my body I turned to look King in the face. I was a walking suicide bomber—a human explosive. I only prayed that I could carry out my mission and make it out alive.

  “If anything happens—anything—if you feel threatened in any way, get out. Do you hear me?” King said, turning me to face him after securing the pregnancy belly.

  I nodded, but we both knew I wasn’t coming out until I planted the explosives properly for maximum destruction.

  Holding me by my shoulders, King stared at me and for a moment I could’ve sworn he got misty on me. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. This was supposed to be me going in there.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, hanging on the word. “Maybe it’s just my turn to be a hero.”

  “Reagan, don’t be a hero. Be smart. Walk out of there if you can’t carry it out, and we’ll fly home. We’ll live to fight another day.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. Every ounce of pent up hatred that had brewed since I was strapped to a bed and raped—every tear, every day, every time I thought as a screwed up teenager my life wasn’t worth living, had led to this moment. A moment where I was alive and had a purpose. Nothing and no one was going to stop me tonight. No one.

  “I won’t take any unnecessary risks.” It was a lie. I would take every risk I had to. I knew it. King knew it. Still he held me close and kissed me hard.

  “I love you and I’ll wait for you. No matter what.”

  Taking a deep breath, I felt my shoulders rise and fall as I nodded. “I got this.”

  I left the hotel, King trailing behind me watching my every move. It was a short walk to the factory. It was in a secluded space on the edge of town and I was thankful there was no need to worry about collateral damage.

  As I approached the building, I checked the Mickey Mouse watch on my wrist keeping me in sync with King. I was on time for the third shift at ten o’clock at night and I joined the small crowd of men and women walking slowly but deliberately into the building. It was a solemn march of sad, oppressed workers and I fell right in line, mixing with the masses.

  I’d timed my entrance so well the guards were overwhelmed with people showing their credentials and I slipped in easily, my doctored employee badge not coming under scrutiny.

  The hallways of the factory were dingy—the working conditions unimaginable, and I wondered if people in America really knew what conditions were like for others around the globe. What’s more, they had no idea the ingredients in their cough syrup and allergy medications were coming from dirty and possibly contaminated factories like this. I shuddered at the thought and made a mental note to be more mindful of everything I put in my mouth.

  The hallways were quiet as everyone made their way to the locker rooms or to the factory floor. I’d worried so much about my Russian accent not sounding authentic for no reason. They weren’t even speaking to each other.

  Walking the hallway with the masses, I kept my head down and counted doorways. I knew from the plans I’d studied that my best access to the bottom floor of the building was through the electrical room—the second to last door on the right of the main hallway.

  Bringing my head up, I looked at the faces around me and hoped they would all make it out safely when the fire alarm was pulled before the detonator was activated. No one noticed me and I felt confident after slipping through the door and into the dark mechanical room.

  The boilers hummed in my ears and as I whispered the words, “I’m in,” I wondered if King could even hear me.

  Following the narrow path that led to a steel trap door in the floor, I slid the heavy lid to the side, shimmying my way into the hole, stopping only to push my fake belly to the side to make it through.

  Pulling the penlight from the pocket of my pants, I lit my way through the basement, checking out the seemingly endless rows of load bearing beams of the main plant area. I didn’t need to rig all of them with explosives, but I needed to choose carefully in order to insure total destruction.

  Moving quickly, I pulled the belly from my body and went to work. With each charge I placed in the yellow Semtex explosive, my mind became more and more blank. I couldn’t think about what I was doing. I disconnected from all human emotion, working my way through the specific beams.

  “Taksi.”

  It was King’s voice in my ear. In order to keep our chatter out of suspicion, King would only speak to me as a Russian taxi dispatcher.

  “Da.”

  He understood as long as my answer was yes, I was on target. Gotov, or ready to pick up in Russian, meant I was finished and on my way out of the building. Ne rabotayet, meaning out of service, was my signal for King to blow the charges without me exiting the building.

  After an hour in the underbelly, I stood back and looked at my handy work. Soon it would all be a pile of rubble.

  Still wearing my C4 bra, I climbed up the rusty tunnel that lead back to the mechanical room and slid the lid to the side. The heat and roar of the boilers hit me immediately as did the sound of two handguns cocking in my face.

  “Welcome to Mother Russia, Agent Weatherford.”

  28

  KING

  The abandoned building I hid inside was a mere remnant of the Russia that was—a world power before the fall of the iron curtain. Now most of the buildings were ghosts, eerie reminders of the fall of communism.

  Dressed in my black tactical gear, a ski mask covered my face. Not only for anonymity but to stay warm in the brutal Russian air. Lying two hundred yards from SciTech behind rubble and twisted metal I called to Reagan. “Taksi. Taksi.”

  When she didn’t respond, I paused, wondering if the noise in the mechanical room was interfering with her hearing device.

  “Taksi,” I repeated wiping the sweat from my brow. The cold air blew through me, and yet I was burning up with adrenaline—my heavy breath clouding my vision each time I filled my lungs.

  I called to her again. Silence. Cocking the Glock, I placed it in the
waistband of my pants, removing the M4A1 carbine from in the bag lying at my feet. Our plan was simple, but had too many holes due to the last minute planning. If she didn’t respond, I couldn’t leave her to die alone. We’d started this fiasco together—we would end it that way too.

  Working my way to the building, I stopped to hide behind each rock, trash heap and pile of rotting building debris, checking the space around me. My heart beat wildly and my mouth was dry. I’d never been this amped up for a mission before. I knew it was because I had so much to lose.

  Sneaking my way around the building, I searched for a dark office window to breach. Smashing it in with the butt of my rifle, I scaled the wall to enter the old factory covered in disintegrating bricks and peeling paint.

  I wasn’t as familiar with this wing of the building, but knew the layout was a wagon wheel with all spokes leading into the main belly of the plant.

  “I’m in.” I whispered, hoping Reagan could hear me. “We were beyond protocol at this stage of the game. I only wanted her out, and out alive.

  I pulled the ski mask from my face, searching for fresh air. The plant smelled acrid and my nostrils stung at the first smell. What kind of hell was this?

  Dropping my mask into a wastebasket, I searched the hallways as I made my way closer to the center of the building.

  “Time to come clean, Agent Weatherford.”

  It was Red. His voice was loud and clear on Reagan’s receptor. She was with him. But where?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She was calm—collected. A newly minted agent acting to the contrary.

  “Where is he?”

  I picked up the pace down the dark hallway, the broken florescent lights were functional about every third fixture. I had just enough green light to watch for shadows.

  “Who?” Reagan asked.

  The sound was like a sonic boom in my ear and I knew Reagan had been punched in the face.

  “Stop the fucking charade. I know what he’s here to do. What I don’t know is why he brought you along. Maybe it’s for your Russian language skills? What’d he say to you, Reagan? Did he tell you he loved you? Did he fuck your brains out and promise to never leave you? Yeah, I thought so. And now look what it’s going to get you. Nothing but a bullet through the head.”