Undercover Justice

by Adrienne Giordano

  The room phone rang. Caroline started to grab it. “Wonder who that is? Grey only calls our cells.”

  Mitch covered the room in a couple of long strides, snatching the phone up before she could reach it. “Yep,” he said as the receptionist downstairs told him his limo had arrived for pickup. He hung up and grabbed Caroline’s hand. “Limo’s here. Let’s go.”

  On the way out the door, he grabbed a bag with the name of the downstairs gift shop on it. His heart pounded out a syncopated disco beat inside his chest.

  “What’s that?” Caroline said, pointing at the bag on their way to the elevators.

  “I bought an extra T-shirt in case I sweat through this one like I did yesterday. I know pit stains gross you out.”

  “Thoughtful,” she said, interlacing her fingers with his.

  She was impressed by the white stretch limo. The driver held the door open for them and introduced himself as Mateo. Mitch had told the service to be sure the guy didn’t giveaway his surprise. Mateo winked at him as Mitch helped Caroline into the backseat.

  “How did you afford this?” she asked, running a hand over the white interior leather.

  Mitch let Mateo shut the door and he stuffed the bag out of sight. “Grey sent me a coupon. Special weekday rate that came with the room.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. Yeah, the coupon comment was stupid. He would never use a fucking coupon and she knew it. Plus, he sucked at lying to her. Anyone else, he was a master at concealing the truth, but Caroline undid him every time.

  Caroline being Caroline, let it go, talking shop about the bachelorette show and the fact that the recent scandal had skyrocketed the show’s popularity even higher than it had been. The producers and network execs had asked her to do her own spinoff, Sin City Undercover. “Kickass female undercover agent takes on drug dealers and mafia hitmen,” she told him. “And oh, yeah, she has a gambling problem on the side.”

  She laughed and Mitch forced a chuckle.

  As they headed north, she kept up a steady stream of conversation and he tried to listen. He did. The disco beat in his chest migrated to a screaming synthesizer in his ears, making it hard to hear her.

  So finally, he leaned over and kissed her to shut her up.

  Her lips gave way under his, and she sighed into his mouth, her arms snaking around his neck. She scooted closer and pressed into him, one of her hands raking through his hair.

  The screaming in his ears stopped. The pounding of his heart returned to a nice, steady thrum. Everything in his system felt…happy.

  She was his and he knew—knew—he was doing the right thing.

  But she still might not want what he wanted.

  And didn’t that scare the ever-lovin’ shit out of him?

  Her tongue flicked inside his mouth, teasing him. He was nothing without her. He needed her.

  He wasn’t above begging.

  Clutching her tight, he continued his slow perusal of her mouth. Eventually, she broke the kiss and touched his bottom lip with one finger. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on, now? Why we’re heading away from the Hoover Dam in a stretch limo?”

  Busted. Mitch sighed. “We’re going the round about way. Sightseeing.”

  “I don’t believe you, and now I wish I’d brought my gun.”

  Good thing she hadn’t. “You won’t need it.”

  “We’re here, ladies and gents,” Mateo announced over the limo’s speakers a minute later.

  Caroline leaned forward, looking out the side window. “Where exactly is here? Wait…is that…?”

  The limo pulled up the curb and parked. Grey and Syd stood on the sidewalk. Syd waved.

  “You didn’t tell me they were in Vegas. What are they doing here?”

  Mitch didn’t wait for Mateo to come around and open the door. Grabbing the bag and Caroline’s hand, he helped her out of the car.

  Syd hugged her and Grey shook her hand. Caroline’s eyes popped when she looked up.

  The chapel steeple shown bright in the midday sun.

  “Are you guys getting married?” Caroline clapped her hands together. Grey and Syd had been engaged since the previous Christmas. “I’m so happy for you. I didn’t realize you wanted to get married in Vegas.” She scanned the Graceland chapel. “Or that you were Elvis fans.”

  Syd waved her off. “We’re not here to get hitched.”

  Caroline turned on Mitch, arching one of her perfect brows. “Mitch…?”

  He took a pink T-shirt from the bag, hoping she appreciated the sarcastic, if entirely true, saying on it. He’d searched for a bride T-shirt, but they were sold out.

  Then he went down on one knee, heart pounding again, but with a buoyant rock beat. An Elvis beat. He unrolled the shirt and held it up, curling his lip Elvis style, and channeling his inner King of Rock and Roll. “Caroline Foster, will you…”

  The words got caught in his throat. Marry me. Mitch Monroe a husband. Holy shit.

  Her eyes scanned the saying on the shirt. “Will I what? Wear a T-shirt that says ‘If I had balls, mine would be bigger than yours’?” She laughed. “I certainly appreciate the sentiment, Mitch, but I’m not sure I want to wear that into the chapel, if that’s where we’re going.”

  Ditching the shirt, he pulled a small jeweler’s case from his bag. The blue velvet covering the box seemed made for this moment. Elvis would approve. “Then how about wearing this into the chapel?”

  Caroline sucked in a breath as he opened the box and lifted it for her to see the two carat diamond. The last of his cash stash had claimed it from the jewelry store inside the hotel.

  “Caroline,” he said in his normal Mitch voice, “will you marry me?”

  Silence fell. Syd rolled her lips in, her eyes zeroed in on Caroline’s face. Grey seemed interested in a crack in the sidewalk. Mateo, watching from the street, gave Mitch a thumbs-up.

  But Caroline said nothing. She didn’t even move.

  Come on Caroline. Say something. Don’t leave a guy hanging here with his heart on his sleeve.

  “I promise,” Mitch said, stumbling over the words. “If you marry me right here, right now, I’ll do the big wedding for your mom back home. Anything she wants. Well, I hate suits, so a tux may be pushing it, but hey…”

  Shit. Why didn’t she say something?

  “Get up.”

  His heart dropped to the ground. “What?”

  “Get up, Monroe.” She grabbed his arm and tugged. “Get off your knee.”

  Did that mean yes or no?

  Reluctantly he stood.

  “Eye to eye.” She smiled. “Better. We’re partners, equals. Remember?”

  “Yeah…”

  “You really should have asked for my input on the ring.”

  He cut his gaze to Syd who’d told him to surprise Caroline. Thanks a lot, Sydney.

  She shrugged and Caroline snapped her fingers to get Mitch’s attention again. “Over here, big boy.”

  “Caroline, I know you get off on torturing me, but please give me a fucking break. Yes or no?”

  * * *

  He wanted to get married. In Vegas. Just the two of them.

  And Grey and Syd.

  Inside, everything fell apart, her entire ribcage collapsing and trapping her air. The last weeks, after he’d agreed with that stupid comment about them making beautiful babies, had been filled with unspoken tension that slowly, brick by brick built up around them.

  Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!

  She hated it. The sudden pressure on a relationship that, before that comment, had been easy—well—maybe not easy because Mitch could never be easy, but…whatever. It’d been good, great even, and she loved him for it.

  Desperately. Irrationally.

  Which didn’t sound so positive, but she liked it. The intensity, the hope, the wanting. Being on that edge with Mitch sparked something in her that she’d never experienced. The world’s biggest roller coaster that she wanted to ride again and again because
the high was better than any drug.

  And now he wanted to get married. He wants to be my husband. Mitch Monroe, confirmed bachelor, the man who came and went as he pleased, which she couldn’t hold against him because they were alike in that way. Both wanted a little freedom to not have to report in every ten seconds. Inside their relationship lived a system and that system was based on trust and loyalty and understanding. A foundation that almost crumbled on this mission.

  They worked hard, they played hard, they loved hard.

  And now Mitch wanted a Vegas wedding that would send Caroline’s mother into a rage. Then they’d pacify her by spending a hundred thousand dollars on a big wedding. She could see it all. The perfect venue, Mitch dashing and handsome and miserable in a monkey suit they’d fight over for hours. How annoying would that be on supposedly the happiest—second happiest—day of her life?

  All for a party that wasn’t necessary because they’d already be married.

  She couldn’t do it. Not like that.

  “No,” she muttered.

  She wouldn’t do that.

  “Oh, shit,” Grey said.

  Mitch’s face fell, turning three shades of red. “No?”

  Caroline blinked. What?

  Wait.

  She’d said no and he heard it. But the no wasn’t to him, it was to her mother. Her mother!

  Wait, wait, wait. “I meant no, I don’t want to get married the way you said it. By compromising with my mother. You’d hate that big second wedding and I won’t make you do something you’d hate.” She grinned. “At least not that anyway.”

  He grimaced and held his hands out, confounded by the whole thing. “Jesus, Caroline, what the hell are you talking about?” He turned to Grey. “You believe this shit? I ask her to marry me and she’s talking all kinds of nutty crap.”

  “Mitch,” Syd said, “I love you, but do yourself a favor for once and shut up.”

  Good old, Syd. Always willing to help a girl out. Without taking her gaze from Mitch, Caroline gave Syd a thumbs up.

  “I’m sorry,” Caroline said, “I completely wrecked your proposal. When I said no, I was referring to giving my mother what she wanted. Not to the proposal. Yes, a thousand times, yes, I will marry you, but if we get married here, in this adorable and extremely gaudy chapel, that’s it. I’m getting married once, Mitch Monroe, and it’ll be forever, so if this is what you want, let’s do it and love every second of it because I’m not marrying you again. In twenty years, when we look back on our wedding, it’ll be us in T-shirts and jeans and Grey and Syd as our witnesses. If that’s what you want, then I want it too.”

  Still standing to the side, Grey grunted. “This has to be the most fucked up proposal I’ve ever seen.”

  “Shut it, Fed Boy,” Syd said. “Besides, how many proposals have you seen?”

  Once again, Caroline gave Syd a thumbs up. But down deep, Grey was right. Leave it to Mitch and Caroline to bicker over his proposal.

  Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Just so I’m clear on this. You do want to marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re happy getting married here, in Vegas, just us and Grey and Syd?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you don’t want another wedding after this?”

  “Yes.”

  He held up his hands. “Let’s think about your mother a second. You’re willing to take that on?”

  Oh. My. God. She might just kill this man before she married him. What the hell was his problem? Hadn’t she just said yes a hundred times?

  “Hey,” she said, “do you want to get married or not because I’m not going to stand in this sweltering heat trying to convince you. You’re in or you’re out, Mitch. Decide.”

  “I may not have seen a lot of proposals,” Grey said, “But this one is fucked up. I don’t care what you say, Syd.”

  Finally, Caroline swung her gaze from Mitch and pinned Grey with it. “You’re my boss and I respect you more than you know, but shut up.”

  At that Syd laughed and Caroline went back to Mitch. “What’s it gonna be Captain Sarcastic? Are we getting hitched or not?”

  The movie-star smile ripped across Mitch’s face and he stepped closer, brought his hands up to her cheeks, sliding his thumb over her bottom lip, and everything inside turned liquid. His touch did that to her. Every time.

  “I love you, Caroline.”

  “I love you, Mitch.”

  “Wanna get married in this gaudy-ass chapel?”

  She kissed him, Mitch and Caroline style, with everything she had. Just taking it all in, loving him and wanting to be closer and closer because she’d never get enough. Ever.

  To him, she’d give it all, her heart, her body, her love, all of it. Because Mitch Monroe, Captain Sarcastic, who drove her to near madness, knew how to love her.

  “Gettin’ kinda hot out here,” Grey said.

  Mitch laughed into her mouth and she pulled back, rolling her eyes, but smiling as she grabbed both his hands and swung them. “Okay, Captain Sarcastic, let’s get hitched.”

  Now for a sneak preview of…

  PROTECTING JUSTICE

  by Misty Evans & Adrienne Giordano

  * * *

  Chapter One

  * * *

  The place smelled like Heather. Scents of lilac and vanilla. A cheap, but fragrant perfume her sister had loved since high school.

  The doorbell rang for the twelfth time mixing with the drone of voices. People, food, a constant barrage of visitors. That’s what happened when someone—particularly a United States senator—died. Friends and family gathered.

  From her spot at the front window, Fallyn let her father have his moment greeting the newcomers in the foyer. All the while, out on the tiny front lawn, the press fought over a few feet of grass and badgered guests as they approached the front door.

  Two hours earlier, Fallyn’s plane had landed in DC and she’d gone into fixer mode, giving the press a statement, making sure her father had his meds, dealing with calls from the coroner and finding creative ways to fit the shitstorm of visitors into her sister’s 900-squarefoot brownstone.

  Jordan Lomax squeezed between Senator Morgan’s staffer and a woman Fallyn didn’t know. The young woman’s Latino features were devoid of makeup, her hair in its normal braid. As Heather’s trusted assistant and family friend, Jordan had been the one to find Heather’s body. She’d also been the one to organize the casseroles and other food streaming through the door all morning.

  “Fallyn,” Jordan said, “there’s someone who’d like to pay their respects to you personally.”

  All she wanted was for everyone to leave. To give her a moment to catch her breath and process.

  The look on Jordan’s face, though, told her it was someone important. Of course it was. Everyone in Washington had known Heather. “I’ll be right there.”

  She took a moment to glance out the window. Damned press. After greeting whoever was looking for her, she’d have to deal with them. Call the cops or figure out some other way to clear them from the lawn. A lot of people in this town owed her favors. She needed to cash in and get rid of the vultures.

  Staying close to the wall, she angled around an armchair and spotted a man in a black suit with an earpiece—Secret Service—waiting at the bottom of the steps.

  Secret Service meant one thing. The president.

  He must have come in the back way.

  Taking a steadying breath, Fallyn entered the foyer. President Abraham Nicols was shaking her father’s hand, Eric Pasche beaming as the packed house of visitors hovered close, listening in on the president’s words.

  “She’ll be sorely missed,” Nicols said to her father. Secret Service formed a circle around them, keeping the visitors at a respectful distance. “Her legacy won’t be forgotten.”

  He’d been one of Heather’s biggest fans.

  Behind the president stood Ryan, the president’s grown son, staring at her over his father’s shoulder. His gaze c
onnected with hers and froze for an instant.

  She’d been getting looks like that since she’d been here—people struck by her identical appearance to her twin.

  Ryan stood tall, broad shoulders filling out his Air Force dress uniform. The medals adorning his chest created an array of colors indicating they had a real-life hero in their presence.

  He skirted his father and held out a hand. “You must be Fallyn.”

  She accepted his handshake and mustered a smile. He didn’t know her, but she knew him. His father had asked for a favor concerning him not long ago. “And you’re Ryan.”

  “Home for a few days leave and wanted to pay my respects.” His sad smile seemed sincere. “My father thought a lot of your sister. I did too. She was a big supporter of the armed forces and everyone knew it. We’re so sorry.”

  A lump formed in Fallyn’s throat, as if she’d swallowed a peach pit, rough, and painful. “Thank you.”

  A pitiful, useless comment, but what else could he say?

  The president moved over to them and reached out to embrace her. She flinched, then realized her faux pas. Abraham Nicols didn’t go around offering hugs to just anyone and she’d have to suck it up or risk an embarrassing situation.

  Reluctantly, she went into his embrace and gritted her teeth. She hated being touched, and she didn’t have that kind of relationship with the president. If they’d been out in front of the reporters, she would have known it was nothing but a political move on his part. Knowing him, it still was.

  But hugs were part of the process too. Everyone wanted to hug her right now.

  “My condolences, Fallyn,” Nicols said close to her ear. “Heather was special.”

  Fallen pushed aside the emotions his words stirred. The guilt. “Yes, she was.”

  If I’d only come to see her like I promised a hundred times. If I’d only picked up the phone.

  The ‘if onlys’ were pointless, but their hovering presence, like the visitors hanging on every word by President Nicols, was a familiar weight. Fallyn had a lot of ‘if onlys’ in her past, especially where her identical twin was involved.