Man Down

by Misty Evans

  The day was so clear, the morning sun bounced off the water, making it look like millions of diamonds floating on the surface. The private beach was mostly empty, the call of birds and an occasional shishing of palm leaves filling the air.

  She’d left DC in a deep freeze.

  Speaking of deep freezes… Drawing in a deep, salt-filled breath, she tried to shake off the aftereffects of seeing Aidan again. She'd spent the whole way here prepping herself, going over and over her assignment in order to stay detached.

  How’s that working for you?

  Her legs felt shaky, her heart as well. Madness, that’s what this was. How could she still feel so…infatuated…with a man she hadn’t laid eyes on in two years?

  Placing her hands on the railing, she considered throwing in the towel. Beatrice had sent her here, and Bree had known better than to accept the mission.

  Bring him home, Beatrice had said. Make him trust you again.

  Little did her boss realize what doing that would cost Bree.

  But the words Beatrice hadn’t said held just as much weight. You owe me.

  Boy, did she. Two missions, two screwups. Mia’s brush with violence in Monte Carlo hadn’t technically been Bree’s fault, but she still felt responsible since it had happened shortly after the brush pass they’d executed in the casino.

  Cassandra’s near death in Vienna, on the other hand, was entirely her fault. She’d been assigned to keep the SFI attorney safe and out of harm’s way. Instead, Cassie still fought with her compromised immune system after being bitten by a bat infected with a fatal disease. If Bree hadn’t gotten distracted, had stuck to Cassie like glue, it never would have happened.

  Beatrice shouldn’t have sent her in undercover. Talk about madness. The lawyer had no skills, no training in field operations, but that wasn’t Bree’s call. Beatrice had made the decision to let Cassie go undercover and Bree’s only job had been to watch her back.

  After that FUBAR, she’d turned in her resignation. She knew how it would go if she stayed. She’d once been a highly-esteemed CIA operative with a file full of commendations, and then she’d screwed up there too. First her mother’s death, then Aidan, then…Russia.

  That final, crucial mission the CIA had used her as a throwaway—an agent they considered expendable—and if it hadn’t been for Aidan…

  Cold snaked up her spine and she slammed the door on that fiasco. Nothing good would come from rehashing those memories yet again.

  When Beatrice had shown up on her doorstep with a couple SFI team members, both former SEALs, and a noted psychologist, and gave Bree the choice of going to South Padre Island and completing an important mission, or sitting there with the psychologist and “working through” her issues, Bree had felt manipulated. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

  No way she was embracing talk therapy, even if she respected and liked Dr. Emma Collins in every way possible. Bree’s former teammates—Mick Ranger and Trace Hunter—had done a good job insisting Bree wasn’t the only one to blame. They all shared the guilt and neither man held it against her.

  A soft breeze picked up a strand of her hair and blew it across her face. While her guilt over Cassie hadn’t waned, she appreciated the fact that Beatrice and the others had made an effort to convince her to let it go. To move on.

  To recruit her husband—a former SEAL and CIA operative—to join the team.

  It was the perfect fit, the Queen B insisted. Beatrice, head of Shadow Force International, had a well-oiled machine of ex-SEALs for certain tasks requiring specific skill sets: bodyguards, paramilitary missions, undercover work. The latter missions had grown lately, and she’d been recruiting a few spies. Former ones, such as Bree, were a good match, but to have someone like Aidan? He was gold in the Queen’s book.

  But what would it cost Bree to win him over? To take him from her uncle—the only real family she had left in the world? Bree had been the one to send Aidan to Martin after her estranged husband left the Agency. He’d been “retired” just like she had, once they got him out of that Russian prison.

  RED—retired, extremely dangerous. That’s what they labeled her when they’d kicked her to the curb. Aidan had been given the same designation.

  He’d saved her life over there, the least she could do when he got back on his feet after being tortured in that god-awful Russian prison was to help him get a job. Heading up the Gulf Breeze Spa & Resort security team seemed like the perfect gig. Uncle Martin had been desperate for someone to handle it and Aidan had needed to get out of DC and find a new home.

  One far away from her.

  Her watch blipped with an incoming call and she glanced at the number. Sighing, she went inside to get her cell and answer.

  “Status update?” Beatrice asked as her way of greeting.

  “I’m here.”

  “Have you made contact with our target?”

  Eye contact. Did that count? “Yes.”

  “Good. You have three days. I’ll expect you, with the package acquired, on Monday.”

  And if she failed? The resignation that had been rescinded would probably become a pink slip. “I won’t let you down.”

  As she hung up, she felt the madness closing in. Aidan wouldn’t even speak to her, how was she going to convince him to leave Texas and go back to DC to play spy again?

  Bree tossed the phone on the bed, slid her shoes back on and headed for the door.

  I have one job, and by God, I’m going to complete it if it kills me.

  Knowing her husband, it just might.

  Two

  Win over people when necessary

  * * *

  Martin DeMarco took security seriously. Not only were his clients important and often followed by paparazzi, over eager fans, and stalkers, but Martin had once been an undercover agent for the CIA in Argentina. From what Aidan understood, the stint had been brief—less than a year—before the man reunited with his estranged family and took over part of their billion-dollar resort company’s holdings. When his sister—Bree’s mother—passed away from breast cancer, her share went to her daughter. Bree never wanted to run a company and insisted her uncle take full control.

  Aidan took security seriously, too, and that was why, as he made his way down the steps to the lower veranda where Martin and Bree were having a late brunch, he planned to ignore the fact Bree was his wife. For today, for right now, as she sat in the sun throwing her head back with laughter at something her uncle said, she was a guest at the Gulf Breeze and would be afforded the same level and measures of personal security as any guest or member of his boss’s family.

  “That’s your wife?" Joey, tagging along, kept his voice low as he descended the stairs with Aidan. “You never told me you were married."

  “It’s…complicated.” The marriage was a sham, a mistake. At least, that’s what Bree had told him. At Joey's questioning look, he added, “We’re estranged."

  “Why the hell would you be estranged from that?" He tilted his head toward the table, where Bree and all her beauty glowed as brightly as the sun.

  Why indeed?

  It's complicated didn't even begin to cover their relationship, and it certainly wasn't what he wanted. He'd fallen for her the first time he saw her in Vegas, and although she was the one mission he had utterly failed, he still felt the same heart-stopping desire for her as he did then.

  Aidan ignored the question, engaging his I don't give a fuck face before halting on the landing of the veranda.

  Joey stopped a foot back, also going into security guard mode—chest out, shoulders straight, no emotion on his face. He was a good kid who’d landed at the spa a few months after leaving the Air Force. Martin allowed Aidan to hire whomever he wanted, and Joey had been a shoe-in for his cyber security supervisor. During low season, he doubled as a bodyguard when other security staff took their vacations. Aidan never took one; Joey didn’t either.

  Princess Gracie, Martin's five pound Chihuahua, jumped off her cushione
d bed near her master and ran to greet Aidan. He had a soft spot for the spoiled dog and couldn't resist her antics. For some reason, she seemed as nuts about him as she did Martin, and her owner often left her with Aidan when he had business to attend to. She ruled the roost and received as much pampering as any of the guests.

  She barked once, dancing on her back feet and turning in a circle like a circus dog to show off for him. Then she scratched at his leg to get him to pick her up.

  "Ah, there you are," Martin said, turning his attention to Aidan and Joey. “The eggs were getting cold so we started without you."

  The veranda was only feet from the sandy beachfront, the lap of waves a soft backdrop to the impressive spread of food on the twelve-foot long table. Bree’s eyes landed on him, sizing him up, and once again he felt that lack of oxygen, the squeeze of his lungs.

  Shoving his reaction aside, he made a big deal out of scooping up the Chihuahua and tucking her under his arm as he scratched her chin. Her tail wagged a hundred miles an hour, and her bug eyes half-closed in blissful happiness.

  “No problem." Aidan kept his attention on Martin. The man was more like a father than his employer. You're part of the family, Martin would often say. I trust you like I would my own son. The smell of bacon and waffles teased his nostrils, making his stomach growl. "I'm not hungry."

  Bree snickered, easily spotting the lie as she always did. He was too far away for the sound of his growling stomach to have tipped her off, but she could see through his best acting job.

  The temperature was climbing into the mid-seventies, a soft breeze dancing off the water. Pleasant conditions, and yet, Aidan felt a trickle of sweat slide under his collar.

  “Nonsense,” Martin said. “You work too hard, Aidan. Sit down, grab a plate, and join us."

  Joey started to accept the invitation, and Aidan threw out a hand to stop him. No way did he want Joey in on the conversation. “Perimeter check," he ordered.

  "But I thought Cortez was on—”

  Aidan turned on him. "I want you to do it."

  His tone brooked no argument and Joey dipped his head, turned on his heel, and marched off.

  Strike two—not only did he have to make up his behavior to Megan, but now Joey as well. The day was off to a great start.

  Placing Gracie on her cushion, he unbuttoned his suit coat and took a seat across from Bree. The butler, standing off to the side, stepped forward and poured him a cup of coffee.

  “Thank you, Daniel," he said.

  Without asking if he wanted any, Bree picked up a platter of bacon and handed it to him. Laying his napkin onto his lap, he accepted it and placed a heaping amount onto his plate. Next, she handed him a basket of biscuits, a container of honey, and slid the covered tray of scrambled eggs toward him, ignoring the one containing pancakes.

  Honey instead of jam. Eggs instead of pancakes. Bacon instead of sausage. Three for three. In his book, that added up to her remembering. For some reason, that pleased him, but then he reminded himself she was a trained spy. She could probably do the same for the preferences of every person she’d ever worked with or investigated.

  He made busy work of piling food onto his plate, even while he wondered why she was there, why was she visiting now, and if she recalled his preferences in other areas of their life, like the bedroom.

  Martin beamed. For the past two years, he had encouraged Aidan to stay the course, reach out to Bree, and never give up. He knew his niece was strong-willed and stubborn, but he also believed she needed someone who could match her fiery passion and fierce loyalty.

  “Tell us about your work,” Martin said, turning to her. “Do you still love it?”

  “Yes,” she replied, and Aidan’s bullshit meter went off. She was lying through her smile. “The company I work for is one of a kind, much like this beautiful place.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Martin was lying too. It wasn’t that he wanted her to be unhappy, but if she loved her job, she had no reason to return to the DeMarco empire.

  Aidan dug into his eggs, ignoring both of them, but listening carefully. Not just to their words, but what lay underneath.

  Intelligence gathering. A hard habit to break.

  “Well, I’m so glad you came home for the holidays. How long can you stay?” The big guy was a softy at heart, and even though he had no idea what had gone on between the two of them, he seemed to believe they could overcome it. That love conquered all, or some such bullshit. “Can you stay until New Year’s, Bree? Tell me you can.!”

  Always thinking positive. Always hoping.

  But damn, his positive attitude had given Aidan hope too. He'd stayed in this job for the past two years with the pipe dream that Bree might “come home” as Martin called it. He was her only living relative now, and they’d become very close after her mother’s death.

  Plus, Aidan figured once Bree stopped running from her grief over her mother and decided to take up the reins of the family business, she’d need Martin’s guidance. She’d come to the spa and Aidan would have a second chance to woo his wife.

  Bree sat back in her chair and looked off at the Gulf. “I’m afraid I only have a few days. I have to be back in DC Monday.”

  Martin screwed up his face, sipped his coffee. A beeping came from his watch, and he glanced at it, then rose. “Ah, I’m sorry, I forgot I have a call with an investor in a few minutes.”

  He tossed his napkin on the table and leaned over to kiss Bree’s cheek. “No worries,” she said. “We’ll catch up later.”

  “I’ll find you as soon as I’m free.” He grinned at Aidan. “In the meantime, Aidan, stay with her and make sure all her needs are met, won’t you?”

  His mouth was full of biscuit and all he could do was nod.

  “I’ll have Megan get you in for a massage and hot-stone treatment,” Martin said to Bree. “I know how much you love them.”

  Bree flashed her dazzling smile at the man and Aidan was mesmerized. He quit chewing to just stare. “Fabulous,” she said. “All I want to do is relax and forget the outside world.”

  Princess Gracie hopped off her cushion and followed Martin. At the entrance, he glanced back and Bree waved, as if everything was fine. Great even.

  Once he disappeared inside, the smile fell off her face as she turned her focus on Aidan. She dismissed Daniel, then sat in silence, staring at Aidan as if waiting for something.

  He swallowed and put down his fork. From the look on her face, it was time to put on his boxing gloves. He sat back in his chair, mimicking her posture and stare. It was a challenge, a game. Whoever spoke first lost.

  He’d be damned if it was going to be him.

  “Well?” she finally inquired. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’m doing here?”

  The question of the hour, but there was one thing he wanted to know even more. “Are you okay, Bree?”

  The challenge in her features softened. Her gaze darted to the water, back to him. “No,” she admitted, and he could see the truth in her eyes. “But I will be. I just need…”

  He waited for her to finish. She toyed with a napkin instead. "Need what?" he asked softly.

  He assumed she would say “a divorce," so he was surprised—and then not—when she said, “I have a job.”

  Didn’t that say it all? For her, nothing mattered except that. Not him, not her family fortune, not even Martin who so desperately wanted to share his life with her.

  She wasn’t there to see her uncle or try and work things out with Aidan. He had to admit, he felt slightly relieved she hadn't brought up the divorce papers. But he also suddenly felt angry, exasperated. She was on a job, a mission, an operation. Who did she work for these days? Not the CIA, not British Intelligence, but who?

  He suppressed his anger, sipped his coffee, and schooled his face. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about, and she probably wouldn’t tell him anyway because it was top secret. But the only way he could pierce that armor she had so tightly wrapped around her, t
o find common ground to meet on, was to be supportive. “You’re safe here. Tell me what’s going on and I'll see if I can help.”

  Obtaining ‘of value’ intelligence

  * * *

  Aidan wanted to help her? She almost laughed out loud. He wouldn't when he found out what she was about to ask him to do, but of course, without even knowing what she needed, he was offering to help. She sighed. He was such a damn nice guy. Dangerous, cunning, and calculating, sure. He knew who his enemies were and kept them far from him. If you were friend or family, however, he would do anything for you. He would even lay down his life to save yours. She knew that first hand.

  He was always trying to help her, protect her, and she’d been a lousy wife and partner. He deserved much, much better than she could ever be.

  She’d done her best to make it up to him, but she didn't know how, outside of pulling the strings to get him this cushy job. She was a different creature than he was, had learned to be completely independent. After her mother died, she’d forgotten how to love.

  She wanted to love him, and let him love her, but every time she considered it, her heart jammed on the brakes. Love hurt, and she wasn't sure she could ever fully commit to anyone because the fear of losing them would shadow everything.

  Yes, she loved Uncle Martin. He had become both father and mother to her through the years, and she owed him a great deal for all he’d done to keep the family business together while she struggled to find a purpose for her life.

  Respecting her silence, Aidan stood and went to get the coffee carafe. He refilled their cups, giving her time to choose her words.

  Trained in the world of spycraft, she was an expert at manipulating people, crafting her words to influence them to do what she wanted. She knew how to exploit weaknesses and turn assets to her way of thinking.

  The one person she had never been able to do that with now resumed his seat across from her at the table. "I've never known you to be at a loss for words," Aidan said. "Must be serious. Pretty sweet ride you drove in here. New boyfriend?"