by Lucy Score
“Xavier?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t go to sleep yet.”
“Angel, I’m going to need at least another twenty minutes and a gallon of water if you want to go again.”
“No! It’s not that. It’s work related. And don’t get all huffy,” she told him when he opened one eye disapprovingly. “I have an idea, and if I get you onboard tonight, it’ll be that much easier to convince everyone else in the morning.”
“I already hate this,” he complained.
“I already made it worth your while,” she told him, nibbling at his neck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It was a good plan. He’d give her that, Xavier thought as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Waverly was curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. She had certainly made it worth his while. He could barely walk, let alone escape her while she talked work. But he’d have liked the plan a hell of a lot better if it were someone other than Waverly running point. He hated even the thought of her facing danger. It didn’t matter how strong, smart, or capable she was. She was Waverly, his Waverly. He wanted her somewhere safe and happy.
Like right now. Right now was pretty damn perfect. The girl he loved sleeping on him, a quiet house on a crisp fall night. If it could stay just like this, life would be perfect.
Perfect ended four seconds later with an ear-splitting scream. Waverly woke with a start, blindly reaching for the gun she’d stowed in her nightstand. Xavier was already pulling on pants and grabbing his piece. He tossed his discarded t-shirt at her, and together, they silently made their way down to the second floor.
There was shouting now. Some English, some Russian, some the Queen’s English. The hallway off the media room was full of people waving weapons and yelling. Micah, wearing rubber ducky boxer shorts, held a Ruger at his side. Anatoli had muscled in next to him in a white tank top, black silk boxers, and a rifle. Chelsea, his lovely sister, wielded a bat. She was wearing a boxer tank top outfit, and Xavier did not like how Travers with his Glock and flannel pajama pants was eyeing her up.
Kate sat on the hallway stable bench with a box of cereal and watched the show.
It was only then that Xavier realized what the fuss was all about. Grigory Stepanov was shouting at Dante who was holding only a bed pillow over his crotch. Petra, in a purple silk negligee alternated between sobbing and yelling.
“I thought someone broke in here and was murdering people,” Chelsea said, shouldering the bat.
“If we stick around long enough, we might see a murder,” Kate told her, helping herself to another handful of cereal. “Looks like they weren’t the only ones getting some.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Waverly’s attire and sex hair.
“Don’t make me shoot you, Kate,” Waverly joked, tucking her gun behind her back.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s calm down,” Xavier said, wading into the fray. “Wrede, go back to your own room.”
Dante decided escape was in his best interest and scurried his bare ass down the hallway. Everyone watched him go.
“His ass is a lot smaller than I thought it would be,” Kate murmured.
“It really is,” Chelsea agreed.
Xavier shook his head. “Grigory, I know this is hard, but try to pretend this was just a horrible, horrible nightmare. Let’s all go back to bed, get some sleep, and never speak of this again.”
He herded them all off toward their rooms, weapons in hand.
Waverly waited for him at the foot of the stairs to the third floor.
“You’re going to be a great dad someday.”
“If I were Grigory, I would have shot the bastard.”
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After breakfast, Kate took Petra-sitting duty and dragged the girl away from Dante to use the basement gym… or the basement wine cellar. Xavier wasn’t clear on which.
The rest of them convened in the upstairs media room, the only room large enough to hold everyone. Xavier and Waverly sat on a leather chaise while Chelsea and Malachi claimed the barstools against the mahogany bar. Grigory, Anatoli, and Micah all chose positions on the large leather sectional. Dante lounged on the floor by the cedar plank coffee table looking every bit the casual playboy.
Xavier leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and began. “As you’re all aware, we’re in an awkward position of being aware of having evidence of certain crimes committed while not being able to turn said evidence over to the proper authorities. And instead of marching each and every one of us down to the FBI’s office to tell our stories and hoping for the best, we’re looking for a way to speed the investigation along.”
He glanced at Waverly and nodded, giving her the floor. See? He could do this partner thing.
She rolled her eyes at him as if she’d read his mind before addressing the group. “While we don’t have much in the way of legally collected evidence, what we do have is all of the players that Brad wants. We’d like to use Brad’s inside source to inform him that Petra has already gone missing. It will motivate him to contact me.”
“Travers, you’ll also be on the line, and if Tomasso throws any threats around or demands that Waverly turns Petra over to him, it should be enough for the FBI to start digging,” Xavier said, taking over again.
Malachi was frowning thoughtfully across the room.
“I’ll tell Brad that I want a cut of the Axion action in exchange for turning Petra over to him,” Waverly said, smoothly picking up the thread. “Which, of course, won’t happen, Mr. Stepanov.”
Petra’s father had been looking a little green at the direction the conversation was going. He nodded.
“We’ll arrange the swap for Saturday, which should give the FBI enough time to call in the SEC and start their investigations.”
“And you want us to stake out the exchange,” Travers predicted.
Xavier nodded. “Invictus will be there as backup, of course. But you’ll be there to slap on the cuffs.”
Micah cleared his throat. “It’s a good plan. We can start by identifying a location for the swap. Somewhere public that feds would have no trouble blending in. Waverly, since you’re the cardholder, you’ll want to lay it all out for Brad. You pick the place and the time.”
“And my Petra? She will be safe?” Grigory asked.
“Brad won’t get anywhere near her during the exchange,” Xavier promised.
“What can I do?” Dante asked. “I’m tired of being a homebound prisoner.”
Waverly cleared her throat. “I was thinking if Dante comes back from the dead, it might be a good distraction during the exchange. Brad would have his hands full trying to deal with me making demands and a shiny, British loose end suddenly reappearing.”
Xavier thought about it. “It might be dangerous,” he said with a grin.
“And we know how devastated you would be if something happened to my gorgeous face,” Dante said, heavy on the sarcasm.
“You should do it,” Grigory said, getting a laugh out of everyone.
“Grigory, don’t tell me you’re trying to get rid of your soon-to-be favorite son-in-law,” Dante quipped. Xavier had to hand it to the man. He was unflappable.
Grigory was back to looking green. “This we will discuss much later. Perhaps after you have mysteriously disappeared again.”
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Waverly relished the speed with which Xavier moved. There was no debating over countless lesser options or overthinking. He was decisive and intensely focused, and God she found that attractive. Never in this lifetime would Waverly have expected to find bossiness sexy. But with Xavier Saint, that’s exactly what it was.
He issued orders and ran herd like a general commanding his troops while Waverly watched his every move with female appreciation.
With everyone on board, Xavier gave Anatoli the go ahead and listened as the man gave an Emmy-worthy performance when he hysterically called the assistant to ask if she’d seen Petra. The assis
tant leaned on Anatoli and suggested that telling Grigory right now would only cause the man needless worry. She advised that he give it a few more hours. Petra would probably show up.
It took just seventeen minutes for Waverly’s phone to ring.
She held up the screen for everyone to see.
“Let it go to voicemail first,” Chelsea suggested. “Keep him worked up and off-balance.”
“Yes!” Waverly pointed at her with enthusiasm. “You’re a smart woman.”
Chelsea grinned. “It works on men like a charm.”
Xavier glared at her. “I’m packing you up and sending you to a convent after this.”
She tossed a throw pillow at him.
“Children,” Dante said, pointing at Waverly’s phone that had begun to ring again. “Showtime, Waves.”
She took a breath and answered with just the right edge of annoyance in her voice. “Brad, you’re interrupting an amazing massage.”
Brad’s voice rang out of the speaker loud and clear. “Where is Petra Stepanov?” he demanded.
“What are you talking about?” she asked airily.
“You were supposed to take her Saturday.”
“Well, you know I’m an overachiever. I wanted to have a little extra time with my friend. Have a little chat with her about her father’s business and a couple of drug manufacturing licenses.”
The only sound coming from Brad’s end was heavy breathing.
“What do you want?” he asked finally.
“This deal is worth billions from what I hear. I want a cut.”
“And then you’ll give me the girl?”
“You give me twenty-five million and leave me the fuck alone permanently, and you can have the girl.”
He tried to bluff his way out, which she hoped he would.
“How am I going to get that kind of cash together?”
“Nice try, Brad. I have a feeling this isn’t your first freelance job. I’m sure you’ve got cash reserves handy for situations like this. Tomorrow, 9 a.m. I’ll call you with the place once you’ve wired the money into the account I send you.”
“Don’t play games with me, Waverly. I had Dante Wrede taken out, and I won’t hesitate to do the same to you,” Brad snarled.
“Honey, you’re going to have to get a better goon squad than a bunch of washed up stunt men if you want to take me anywhere,” she said, her tone icy. She felt the weight of the gazes in the room settle on her questioningly and ignored them.
“You could have been a huge asset for Target,” he said snidely.
“I’ve seen how you handle your assets, asshole. I can do better than working for you. Now you can pay me to keep my mouth shut about your little side business, and I turn Petra over to you, or I can start calling gossip sites now with the biggest story of the year.”
His laugh was cold. “You’re a cold-blooded—”
“Take it up with someone who cares. And keep your phone on you.” Waverly said snidely. “Oh, and Brad?”
“What?” he snapped.
“Watch out for our little Russian princess. She’s not too happy about being our guest.” She disconnected the call.
“What the fuck was that?” Xavier demanded.
“What? I improvised a little,” she shrugged. “He’s always underestimated me, and we wanted him off-balance.”
“You’re practically begging him to take a shot at you!” Dante scolded.
“I hate to agree with this terrible man,” Grigory said, pointing in Dante’s direction. “But you seem to have poked a bear who has already proved willing to attack.”
Micah and Malachi weighed in with equally damning opinions, but Anatoli and Chelsea stood firmly in her corner.
“If I had a penis, would you all still be up in arms about this?” Waverly demanded, crossing her arms.
She could tell by Xavier’s expression that she’d at least scored a small point with that. But the victory felt hollow. It was their first test in trusting each other, and they’d both bombed it.
“Let’s all pretend that Waverly does indeed have a penis and realize that she just got this guy to confess to taking Dante out.” Chelsea argued.
“Speaking of taking me out,” Dante began. “What was that bit about washed up stunt men?”
Waverly shot a furtive glance at Xavier. “The one guy seemed oddly familiar to me. I kept seeing him behind the wheel of a speeding car, and it hit me this morning. He was a stunt driver on a movie I did when I was a kid.”
“So Tomasso poaches acting talent for espionage and stunt men for muscle,” Micah mused out loud.
“Can we get back to the part about Waverly going off script?” Xavier muttered.
Chelsea cleared her throat. “Bottom line is, not only can Agent Travers go back to the feds with an attempted kidnapping, but we’ve also got Tomasso on conspiracy to commit murder.”
“On that note, I’ve got some serious convincing to do,” Malachi announced, standing. “Let me know where your team wants this to go down, and we’ll make it happen… somehow,” he said to Xavier. “And you,” he pointed at Waverly. “Don’t poke any more bears.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Chelsea volunteered.
One by one, they all filtered out until Xavier and Waverly were left alone.
“I feel like we both dropped the ball already,” Xavier sighed.
Waverly rested her head on his shoulder. “I should have told you I was going to push Brad.”
“I shouldn’t have jumped on you, especially not in front of the rest of the team.”
“We’re new at this. We’ll get better… right?” she asked. She hoped they would.
“God, I hope so.” Xavier put his arm around her and pulled her back into his side. “When this is over, when the studio’s operations are shut down, what are you going to do?” he asked her. “Is acting enough for you?”
She felt herself freeze up. “You think I should give it up?” This had been the one thing in her life that she’d felt she’d chosen. And now Xavier, a force she never saw as a choice, wanted her to give that up.
“Think about it, Waverly. How else would you continue? Your value as an operative comes from you being a celebrity. You can’t just go work for the FBI or the CIA. They don’t work that way,” he said.
She hadn’t really considered the future beyond finding Dante and now nailing Brad to the wall for his sins. Brad had made her a pawn as so many others had in the past, and it wasn’t something she’d stand for anymore. And then there was Xavier. She was part of an “us” now, and that would mean making decisions together, moving forward together. Could acting be enough for her now that he was back in her life? It hadn’t been before, she remembered.
“What do you want to do after this is over?” she asked, turning the question back on him. Her fingers traced a heart pattern on his thigh through his pants.
Invictus allowed Xavier to call his own shots, play by his own rules. But from what she’d gleaned from Chelsea and Micah, it consumed his life.
“Maybe we could try normal?” he suggested.
“Oh, something new and different for us.”
She felt him smile against her hair.
“Do either of us even know what normal is?” he wondered.
“Maybe we could learn. We could take some time off after all this. I hear there’s this really nice lake town in Colorado where normal people live.”
“My parents would love to have you back,” he said, brushing a kiss across her mouth.
“We’ll find our own normal,” she predicted. “Whatever it may be.” At least she hoped they would.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Waverly decided to give Xavier some space to play general and was helping Anatoli assemble two-dozen sandwiches for lunch when Dante slunk into the kitchen.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a spy?” Anatoli asked him innocently.
Dante preened and reached for a chi
cken salad on wheat. “I’ve been known to run an operation or two.”
“But how does a spy get caught in his girlfriend’s bedroom by her father?” Anatoli wanted to know, his Russian face perfectly deadpan. “James Bond would never be caught by a father.”
Waverly let out a peal of laughter. “Excellent burn, Anatoli,” she commended, offering him a fist bump.
“Very funny. Hilarious,” Dante said, taking a bite.
Waverly stowed her sandwich knife and wiped her hands on a paper towel. “You got a minute?” she asked Dante.
He gave an elegant shrug. “Lead the way, my love.” He gestured toward the back door.
“Don’t start that, or Xavier won’t be so quick to holster his gun next time,” Waverly warned him. They stepped out into the balmy California fall. The backyard stretched on before them, a hidden paradise of avocado trees and emerald green lawn. The freeform pool curled around the outdoor kitchen and thatched roof cabana.
Waverly stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as they wandered toward the back wall of the estate. “So we haven’t really had a chance to talk.”
“No, we haven’t. It’s been a special brand of chaos, these past two days,” Dante agreed, rolling up the sleeves of his blue and red checked shirt, another special find by Roz, Xavier’s right-hand wardrobe magician.
“I have so many questions,” Waverly sighed.
“Like why did I leave you with a bullet hole in your side?” He kicked at an avocado on the ground with a glossy loafer.
“No,” Waverly said firmly. “You had no idea I was shot.”
“I’d have come for you.” He looked at her, his blue eyes earnest.
“I know you would have. Jesus, Dante, I thought you were dead… or thought that you could be dead.” She shaded her eyes against the sun. “I got back in that house, and there was blood outside the office door.”
“I can’t believe you went back in the house,” he shook his head. “Petra’s cowboy-slash-butler-slash-security-guard got winged in the shoulder. Stepanov’s security hustled me out pretty fast under fire, and then they shoved me in a van and took my gun, and we went after Petra. Two of the able-bodied men went back for Anatoli after he called in. By the time they got back in the house the next morning, it had been cleaned, and the security videos had been corrupted.”
