Kiss Kiss

by Various Authors

  Garrett had to swallow back the revulsion he felt picturing Parker with a gun pointed at her. He would do everything in his power to make sure they were never in that kind of situation during this mission. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

  Parker confidently reached up and popped the first three buttons of her shirt until her cleavage and the edges of her red lace bra were visible. Garrett's eyes immediately flew to her exposed skin, watching her chest heave with every breath she took, her breasts straining against the thin lace fabric covering them.

  "Distract man number one long enough to disarm him," she said softly as she removed her hand from the inside of his coat, carefully palming the 9mm SIG M11 she slid from his shoulder holster while his eyes were otherwise occupied. With a straight face she mimed the action of shooting him in the chest.

  "When number two comes to the rescue, a double roundhouse kick to the wrist will force his gun out of his hand, allowing me to incapacitate him with a jab cross right elbow to the sternum, knocking the wind out of him long enough for the shot," Parker explained easily, raising the gun a little higher so it was aimed directly at his heart and pretended to fire.

  "Shock will be on my side for number three,” Parker continued. “A double sweep kick should drop him where he stands, allowing for the final kill shot right between the eyes," she said, aiming the gun higher so the barrel pointed to the middle of Garrett’s forehead.

  "Bang," she whispered.

  Garrett hadn't blinked or spoke in the last couple of minutes, and he wasn't sure he'd ever recover the ability to do so. His brain was at war with his libido, and he wasn't positive which would win or which he wanted to win for that matter. Watching Parker hold his gun turned him on and horrified him equally. Listening to her talk about disarming gun-toting killers with such casual nonchalance made his dick hard and baffled him at the same time.

  Parker lowered the gun to her lap and watched all of the emotions play on Garrett's face. Some of them confused her, and if she didn't know him better, she might have suspected that her display turned him on. She almost laughed at that idea.

  She’d once stood before him in her underwear, practically begging him to sleep with her, and he was completely unaffected. Parker had been upset and drunk at the time though, so her memory might have been a little off.

  "Say something," Parker whispered.

  Garrett had no idea what he was supposed to say. This was Parker, one of his best friends, the woman who cried when she hit a squirrel with her car, squealed when you gave her a present, and cursed a blue streak when she broke a nail or had to wear pants because they made her feel like a guy.

  This woman who sat in front of him right now was not that same person.

  "You could have shot me," Garrett protested lamely, unable to come up with anything more intelligent to say.

  Parker rolled her eyes at him.

  "Don't be so dramatic. The safety is on. At least I didn’t grab the loaded Beretta Jetfire in your ankle holster or the back-up .357 snubnosed revolver in mine."

  Garrett didn't bother to try and stop his jaw from dropping.

  A few years ago Garrett and Milo had forced Parker to accompany them to the shooting range. She had bitched and complained the whole way there, stating quite firmly that you couldn’t pay her enough to hold one of those “shotgun thingies” and fire it. Milo and Garrett both thought it was quite funny that Parker was raised by a cop and had such an aversion to guns. And the fact that she had thought the small handgun they used was called a shotgun kept them in fits of laughter for the rest of the day. Obviously, the joke was on them.

  “What kind of weapon is this?” Garrett tested her, pointing to his other side arm that was carefully placed on the seat across from him. He had a brief moment of hope that maybe he just imagined what had happened a moment ago.

  “It’s an MK23 SOCOM pistol.” Parker replied without missing a beat, lifting the gun up to inspect it. “It uses a polygonal design, which improves accuracy and durability. It also features an ambidextrous safety and magazine release on both sides of the frame,” she explained as she held the gun with her right hand, flipped off the safety with her thumb, and used her index finger to click the magazine release, letting it drop into her left hand so she could check the rounds.

  Parker smacked the magazine back in place and put the safety back on, turned the gun around so it wasn’t facing him, and handed it calmly to Garrett. Her arm remained suspended in air as he stared at her with his mouth open.

  "Who the fuck are you?" he asked her.

  Parker turned away from him so she could reach into the bag next to her, scared to death that this moment was here, yet breathing a sigh of relief that the cloak and dagger nonsense would finally be over.

  Garrett watched her rummage through her bag until she found what she was looking for. She turned back to him, holding out a thin, black leather billfold that looked like a passport.

  Was she going to tell him she wasn't a U.S. citizen? That would be pretty funny. Maybe she was only marrying Milo for a green card.

  He took the square wallet from her outstretched hand and flipped it open, the smile fading from his lips.

  Inside was a picture of Parker, his Parker, looking seriously into the camera with her hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Underneath the photo were the words that made his heart jump up into his throat.

  Annabelle Elizabeth Parker

  Central Intelligence Agency

  Special Ops

  Chapter Six

  Garrett and Parker weren’t afforded any alone time the remainder of the flight. As soon as Garrett’s brain caught up to his eyes, and he finally understood what it was he was holding in his hand, Brady came down the aisle and sat down in the empty seat on the other side of him.

  When Parker saw Brady coming towards them, she snatched her identification out of Garrett’s hand and stowed it back in her carry-on. She hadn't made a decision yet as to just how much information she wanted to give the rest of the guys.

  Garrett had so many questions swirling around in his head, he found it hard to concentrate on what Brady was saying. He was too busy wondering when Parker managed to find the time to join the CIA and more importantly, if Milo knew all about this secret life she had. His anger grew leaps and bounds as he sat there barely listening to Brady drone on about security, on-site surveillance, and engaging targets.

  All these years, he thought he knew her better than anyone. Parker had been lying to him this entire time, laughing at him whenever he worried about her safety or told her she wouldn’t understand something to do with his job. She probably knew more about his job than he did. She probably knew more about this mission than he did.

  Garrett was certain that she and Milo must have sat back at the end of an evening and had plenty of fun discussing how clueless poor Garrett was. He wanted to get up out of his seat and throw his fists into something. He wanted to yell at Parker and ask her how in the world she could claim to be his friend and never be completely honest with him about who she really was. If Garrett calmed down enough, he'd realize that his anger stemmed from a hell of a lot more than just having a friend keep him in the dark about her job. Parker was more than just his friend, but he'd never admit that. Garrett rubbed at the pain in his chest and wondered why it felt like his heart was cracking in two. All the lies she told were piling up inside of him, and they felt like a physical ache, like someone was reaching inside of him and squeezing the life out of his heart, making the air from his lungs shakily pass through his lips and his blood pressure soar.

  Parker stared at Garrett’s profile from the moment Brady sat down on the other side of him and commanded his attention. She just wanted him to turn around and look at her. She knew he was mad and probably hurt that she kept something like this from him. Given the nature of his job, she figured he would understand better than anyone how some things just couldn't be shared with others. Parker watched Garrett clench his jaw and crack his knuckles. If
he would just look at her, he'd see how much it killed her to keep that part of her life separate from everyone all these years.

  Garrett ignored Parker for the entire six hour flight. When Brady finished with him, he got up from his seat and took another one at the back of the plane, as far away from Parker as possible. Garrett wanted answers, and he wanted the truth, but right now he just needed distance from her.

  Milo had been Garrett's best friend, but a lot of times, he just wasn’t the type of person one went to with monumental problems or questions. He was laid back, carefree, and just didn’t understand when Parker and Garrett got stressed out. Parker was the one Garrett went to with anything important. Garrett knew she'd understand his thought process and be straight and honest with him.

  Now he was second guessing every conversation they ever shared. Garrett was a strong, confident, and intelligent man, but right now, he was struggling with the knowledge he couldn't trust the one person in his life he'd always believed in without question.

  Parker stared out her window as the plane descended. Every time she landed in the Dominican it always made her palms sweat and her heart flutter with nerves to look down and see nothing but dirt under the plane’s wheels. She preferred her airport runways to be paved and full of people in florescent jackets waving lighted wands. In the Dominican, you might see a stray chicken run across the “runway” or men in shorts and flip flops directing the plane to its hangar. Parker held her breath as the plane touched down and wished Garrett had come back to the seat next to her to calm her nerves.

  After the plane landed, the team made their way through the open air building and had the opportunity to test the validity of their press identifications and new passports. Parker noticed her last name was listed as Miller on all of her paperwork and realized with a slight pang in her chest that she wouldn’t hear anyone call her Mrs. McCarthy while they were there. For security reasons they obviously wouldn’t be using their real last names. She laughed off the silly fantasy that had lodged into her brain after Garrett called her Mrs. McCarthy at the beginning of the flight.

  The team quickly moved through the airport security checkpoint without any hassles and boarded a van that would take them to their hotel.

  An hour later the sun disappeared beyond the horizon just as the van pulled into the driveway for the Catalonia Bavaro resort. They went around the circular drive and were let out in front of the lobby.

  Brady let out a long whistle as he exited the vehicle and looked around.

  “Uncle Sam sure didn’t spare any expense on this mission, boys and girls,” he whispered quietly so only they could hear and gave an approving nod of his head at the marble columns in the entryway and the palm trees lining the walkway.

  Pulling his sun glasses down his nose, Austin stared at two women walking by in bikinis that must have just come from the beach, a wide grin spreading across his face. “I’d like to thank the tax payers for their continued support in making sure we are well taken care of,” he said softly with a quiet laugh.

  Parker laughed at Austin’s obvious perusal of the half-naked women as she swung her laptop bag and carry-on over her shoulder and grabbed her suitcase. She didn’t miss the dirty look Garrett shot her way. Obviously, they weren’t going to talk the entire time they were there, and it looked like laughing would be frowned upon as well.

  Everyone else got their bags and made their way into the lobby to get checked in. As the leader of the mission, everything was listed under Garrett’s name so the team waited off to the side and chatted while he signed the paperwork and got the room keys. They watched an attendant come over with a cart and begin loading their luggage, preparing it for the short walk to the villas.

  The Catalonia Bavaro consisted of private villas nestled throughout a luscious, tropical flowered landscape. A serene, crystal blue aquabar infinity swimming pool was central to all the villas, each one providing a private, palm-lined, floral-petal walkway leading to the oasis. Each member of the team had their own opulent villa with a king sized bed piled high with soft, white pillows and floor-to-ceiling windows that let it plenty of sunlight and had a breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean. A spacious, white marble and granite bathroom and a fully stocked bar added to the perfection of the villas. Being at a resort like this almost made you forget that less than a mile away there were gangs, drugs, black market dealings, and a president that may or may not have the best interests of his country at heart. Seedy things like that shouldn’t be anywhere near the marble and gold opulence they were currently surrounded by. As Parker stood off to the side while Garrett checked them in, a gentle, warm ocean breeze forced the white billowy curtains draped from the massive cathedral ceiling to brush against her skin. She knew by the silky, luxurious feel, as they snaked their way around her legs and across her arms, that the fabric was high-end. Everywhere they looked, guests were checking in with Louis Vuitton luggage and Armani suits. It was sickening to know that a short trip down the road would provide you with a view of several homes with no roofs, dirt floors, and bare kitchen cupboards. Parker had been involved in several meetings over the years regarding the validity of how President Fernandez allocated his country's funds. Nothing quite this elaborate had ever been done aside from gathering intel because frankly, they never had any reason to delve deeper.

  After a few minutes, Garrett joined the group and handed out the room key cards. No one missed the fact that he skipped right over Parker, turning and walking away without a word. Parker jogged to catch up to him, leaving the guys to walk with the attendant and their luggage. She reached Garrett just as they got to the first villa and he was making his way up the walkway to the door.

  “So do I get a room or am I supposed to rough it and sleep out under the stars?” Parker asked irritably as Garrett slid his key card through the slot and waited for the light to turn green.

  Garrett tried not to sigh in annoyance at Parker’s attitude and pushed the door open wide.

  “Now, sweetie, did you really think we wouldn’t be sharing a room while we’re here?” Garrett asked sarcastically. "Given your employment, I'm sure I don't need to explain to you the importance of keeping up pretenses no matter where we are, dear."

  Before Parker could reply, the attendant pushed the cart up to the doorway and unloaded both of their suitcases and carry-ons. Garrett tipped him and Parker heard the man tell him that he hoped he and his wife had a pleasant stay with them. The man turned and went back to the cart and followed behind the guys to find their villas. Once they rounded the corner, Garrett turned and walked inside, letting the door start to close behind him. Parker swore to herself as she lunged for the door, catching it before it slammed shut on her and left her stuck with the humiliating task of knocking to be let in. Parker walked in the villa and over to the bed in the middle of the room, sliding one hand on top of the fluffy, white comforter. When she got to the head of the bed, she let her fingers glide through the sheer mosquito netting draped down around the corners of the gorgeous, four-poster canopy. A bright sparkle caught her eye and she looked out of the windows at the foot of the bed to see the shimmering, blue ocean.

  She started to say something to Garrett about the view when he strode across the room to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Parker muttered to herself as she kicked one of her bags across the room. Garrett was pouting like a twelve-year-old. They were friends - that was all. She'd kept her job a secret from a friend to keep him safe. Parker had no idea why he was acting like it was the biggest betrayal in the world. If he would stop behaving like she purposefully set out to hurt him and actually let her explain, he would understand.

  She stared at the closed bathroom door for several minutes, realizing he wasn’t going to come out anytime soon.

  Knowing she needed to let off some steam, Parker flung open her suitcase, grabbed a few things, and stormed out the door, making sure she took the one and only key card with her.<
br />
  She figured if he was going to act like a child, so would she.

  <> ~ <>

  After Garrett stormed into the bathroom, he took a shower and was able to calm down somewhat. He wasn't surprised to come out and find the villa empty. He threw on a black pair of drawstring nylon running pants, a black and white Nike t-shirt, a pair of tennis shoes, and went in search of Parker. He hoped he would find her, otherwise he'd have to go and tell the front desk he lost his key card.

  And his “wife”.

  Parker was grateful that being at a Caribbean resort meant access to the gym at any hour and she had it all to herself. With her iPod plugged in to the gym's docking station and her "Kick Some Ass" playlist pulled up, Bayside's "Sick, Sick, Sick" thumped through the sound system and set the tone for her pissed off mood.

  She punched, hit, and kicked out her frustrations for forty minutes, working up a good amount of sweat and unfortunately, even more irritation.

  She threw jabs at the Everlast heavy bag that hung from the ceiling as she bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet.

  "Fucking childish ass," she muttered, punctuating each word with a blow to the bag.

  "Who the fuck are you?" she said, imitating Garrett's horrified voice as she brought her leg up to the side of the bag and kicked her ankle against it three times.

  The song ended and went right into Godsmack's "Whatever", making Parker smile for the first time that day as she pictured Garrett's face on the bag while she sang along and beat the shit out of it.

  "And I don't need your shit today," Parker sang as she spun around, placing her back to the bag so she could kick out behind her, letting her foot connect with "Garrett's" nuts.

  Garrett crossed his arms, leaned against the doorjamb of the gym, and watched Parker.

  Her skin tight, black capri workout pants hung low on her hips and ended right below her knees. Garrett wondered if he had ever seen a more perfect body than the one before him right then. He forced his eyes up the length of her, taking in her sweat-glistened skin and the sorry excuse for a top she wore. The red sports bra she had on made his eyes focus on how well-endowed she was.