Wrecked With You

by J. Kenner

  “Fucking prick,” Tony says. “I hope he suffered, broken and in pain before he went to hell.”

  A sad smile flickers on my lips. “Yeah, me, too. But I don’t know. I never looked back. Never even checked the newspapers. I was fifteen years old and on the run with my little sister. We took a bus to Los Angeles, and we lived on the street.”

  “At fifteen. Christ.” He takes his hand from my hip and runs it though his hair. Immediately, I miss the contact. The connection. “Why didn’t you go to a shelter?”

  I shake my head. “They might have separated me and Eliza. I learned the truth years later—he died in that basement—but back then I didn’t know if he’d survived or not. If he had, he might find us if we were on the grid. If he was dead, someone might find out what I’d done.”

  He looks so profoundly sad I want to reach out and comfort him, and it warms me to know how much my story is affecting him. After a moment, he says flatly, “You turned tricks so the two of you could stay alive.”

  There’s no judgment. No emotion. He’s just stating a fact, and that flat simplicity gives me the strength to tell him the rest. How I prostituted myself so we could have a decent apartment and money for fake IDs, not to mention money to hire someone to pretend to be our parents long enough to get Eliza enrolled in school. Me, I didn’t have time for that.

  And, yeah, crime does pay. I tell him about that, too. About how I shoplifted. Did whatever I had to do to keep my little sister alive. And I told Eliza all of it.

  “All?” His brows rise with the question.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Granted, the details were tied up with a pretty bow until she was old enough to really understand, but yeah. The whole ball of wax. Turning tricks and all.”

  He says nothing, but his brow crinkles enough that I feel compelled to continue. With anyone else, I probably would drop it. Hell, with anyone else, I wouldn’t be having this conversation. But Tony’s different. I want him to understand.

  “She was all I had. And I was all she had. We’d grown up in a house filled with lies and pain and the kind of stuff that two kids should never have had to deal with. I wanted her to have total honesty. It’s not like I needed to dress up our new life. Even with me working the street, we were better off. Happier. Healthier. She wasn’t even ten, but she got that.”

  “I get it,” he says gently. “I just hate that either of you had to experience it.”

  I shrug, resisting the urge to squirm. I’m not a touchy-feely person. And while I appreciate compassion, I never quite know what to do with it.

  “Yeah, well, it got hard to keep the promise later.”

  “But you did.”

  I nod. “Yeah. Always.”

  “What happened later that made it harder?”

  I meet his eyes, because it’s important I see his reaction. “I killed somebody.” My mouth is bone dry, the memory of that horrible day washes back over me. The shock on Eliza’s face when the verdict came in. And again when the judge sentenced me. “I got the death penalty. I was eighteen and my lawyer said the judge was making an example of me.”

  “Good God,” he says. “You must have been terrified. Not just about you, but by what would happen to Eliza.”

  And that’s it—that’s when I can’t hold the tears back anymore. Because he gets it. I can’t quite wrap my head around it, but he really, genuinely gets me.

  “What happened?”

  The story is long and convoluted, but the bottom line was that if I didn’t help with a job, the prick who was blackmailing me would kill Eliza. I helped, and it all went south when someone else on the team killed an innocent woman. I said I was out. The prick said he’d kill my sister. So I took him out.

  “And they nailed you for his murder and for the murder of the woman,” he guesses after I give him the story in a flat, emotionless voice.

  I nod. “And no one could corroborate my story. And it got even worse when the others on the team banded together and pointed the finger at me for both deaths, too. It was bad. I was terrified.” I hug myself, remembering that cold fear. Not so much for me, but for Eliza.

  “And yet here you are.”

  I nod. “Do you know Anderson Seagrave? He’s a colonel in the SOC.”

  He shakes his head. “Should I?”

  “He knows Stark. I thought maybe your paths had crossed. He was a newbie, then. This was almost twenty years ago. He’s my guardian angel. He and his boss pulled me out, and Seagrave became my handler. My record was wiped clean by the government.”

  “And in exchange, you became theirs. Covert ops.”

  “Got it in one.” I draw a breath. “But it worked for me. I had a solid salary, and for the first time Eliza and I had a clean place to live with food always in the fridge. I got a cover job as a private investigator with an ex-cop who’d helped me and Eliza out here and there after he found us sleeping in a car. Lorenzo. It was part cover, part real. And after I left intelligence, I worked as a PI for real. I just sold him my half of the business. Figured I couldn’t really hang on to it once I joined Stark Security.”

  He looks at me with something like respect, and I melt under his gaze. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. But it all molded you into an incredible woman.”

  His eyes are on mine, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped. Then he reaches up and trails his fingers through my hair. Something has shifted. The heavy, dark reality of my story replaced by something equally intense but tinged with heat and longing. Even respect.

  I see his lips part. And though I don’t know what he’s about to say, I know that I want to hear it, even though that intense fire in his eyes scares me.

  “Emma, when we wrap this up—I mean, when we find The Asst—do you think—Oh, holy fuck.”

  He stands as says the last words, and the action sends me toppling into the water. I gasp, and he reaches a hand down to help me. But he doesn’t look apologetic. Instead, he looks euphoric. “We’re idiots,” he tells me, and in a heartbeat the mood shifts from something heavy and personal to the calculating reality of our work.

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  “Thea,” he says. “It’s so fucking obvious.”

  I shake my head, clueless, then freeze as the light dawns. “Holy shit, you’re right. The-A.”

  He nods. “Thea. The Asst.”

  I twine my fingers in his hair, then pull him closer for a long, slow kiss. When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. “Rain check,” I say. “Now let’s go find your contact.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Advance Reader Copy

  When Tony called Thea’s room, the resort operator put him through, but after five rings, it flipped back to the operator who refused to give him her room number.

  “I understand you think that she wants to see you, sir,” she’d said. “But our obligation is to all of our guests, and since we have no way to confirm, we simply can’t release the number.”

  As far as dead ends went, that was pretty rock solid. Which explained why he and Emma were now heading toward the resort’s main building. “The odds of her being with someone right now are slim,” Emma said. “After all, she’s here to find you. Although it’s a bit odd that she didn’t call our room.”

  “She only arrived today,” he said, keeping his voice low in case anyone was nearby. “Probably wants to scope out the situation first. And she’s not actually expecting me until tomorrow.”

  Emma nodded. “So we ask Mindy for an intro, and if that doesn’t pan out, we look for someone alone in the bar or restaurant.”

  “And if that yields nothing,” he added, tugging her to a stop beside him, “we go back to our room and go off the clock until sun-up.”

  She didn’t respond at first, and he almost regretted the words. He knew damn well neither one of them were ready for anything more than an island fling, and yet at the same time he could feel himself opening up, letting hope warm him to all the delicious possibilities once The Serpent was dead a
nd this vendetta no longer ruled his life.

  Not that he was ready to play house, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked having Emma at his side.

  The thoughts raced by in an instant, and he almost recalled the words, wanting to give her an out if he was pushing too hard or moving too fast. Apparently she didn’t think he was, because she fisted her hand in the collar of his T-shirt, using it as a lever to pull him toward her. She kissed him fast and hard, then pushed him back with a grin.

  “I admire a man who’s always ready with an alternative plan. Especially one I agree with wholeheartedly.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “After all, all work and no play…”

  He stroked her cheek. “How would either of us know? As far as I can tell, we’ve spent our lives doing nothing but working.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  The sun had dipped behind the foliage, leaving the path bathed in deep orange that made the palm fronds and tropical flowers glow with a vibrancy that resembled flames. He took her hand, and they continued on the path, at least until he paused at their path’s intersection with two others, one leading to another cluster of cabanas and the other to the main building.

  He drew her in, relieved when she responded so eagerly, opening to his touch, his kiss. It was long and slow, and he stroked his hand along her back, bare in a low-back Tee she wore without a bra. His fingers brushed her skin as their lips clashed, the kiss that had started gentle becoming almost as intense as the fire-lit sky.

  After a moment, they pulled apart, both breathing hard. “We don’t have to find her today,” he finally said.

  “True. There’s no real downside to waiting until tomorrow.”

  “And think of the upside.” He slid his fingers lower, teasing under the band of her shorts.

  “You’re doing a very good job convincing me.” She closed her eyes, her voice heavy with desire.

  “Good, because I—wait.”

  Her eyes opened immediately, that look of lust gone, replaced by cold calculation and total professionalism. He saw her head cock, then tilt slightly to indicate the path that led toward the other cabanas. He nodded. Just the tiniest motion, but she clocked it, and he watched as she tapped out one, two, three on her thigh.

  They turned in unison, catching a petite blonde with short-cropped hair standing in front of them holding a camera. She squeaked and jumped, falling backward against a leafy plant.

  “Well, hello,” Emma said, in the kind of voice she’d used with him in bed. “This might be a resort with low inhibitions, but I think taking candid shots without permission breaks all the rules.” She took his hand and put it over her breast as she leaned against him, striking a pose. “But I’m sure we could work something out.”

  He had to hand it to her. If she hadn’t spoken first, he probably would have asked the girl what the fuck she thought she was doing. Emma had turned it around and seamlessly kept their cover.

  “That’s a nice offer,” the woman said. “And sorry for not asking. You two looked like you’d make a good subject. So I took a few photos. To, um, get a feel for you.”

  “A few?” Tony said, holding out his hand. “Can I see?”

  The woman licked her lips and then passed him the camera. He scanned through the images moving backward in time from the photo she’d just taken—which clearly showed his fingers dipping down the back of Emma’s shorts—then a candid of him and Emma on the path, one of them walking through the foliage that surrounded the natural spring, and finally another candid of him, Emma, and Tracy Ann.

  He looked up at the blonde. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, and she was biting her lower lip. At the moment, she looked like a rabbit who wasn’t sure if it should bolt or inch closer for a bit of carrot.

  “So this is a hobby?” Emma asked. She’d been looking over his shoulder at the digital screen. Now she was examining the girl.

  “I really didn’t mean it to be a thing. Maybe I could buy you two a drink to make up for it? I’m Thea,” she added, her focus entirely on Tony as she spoke. I’m, um, the assistant at a business in the States. We deal in news. Information.”

  Tony met Emma’s eyes. She nodded and took a step toward Thea. “I’m Kari. I came with Tony to the island. And we’re both very glad to meet you.”

  “Why don’t we head to our cabana?” Tony suggested. “We can have a drink. Talk.”

  Thea nodded, her curls bouncing. “That would be great. What cabana are you in?”

  “It’s in the Wanton section. Called the Sea View,” Emma said, and to Tony’s surprise, Thea looked relieved. “That’s perfect.”

  “How did you know I was—” Tony began, then shifted the question when Thea grabbed his hand and squeezed in what he took as a warning. “—uh, going to be a good subject for your photos?”

  “Well, you have the body,” she said casually. “Both of you,” she added, with a nod toward Emma. She slipped her other hand into Emma’s. “I think we three are going to have a very good time.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Advance Reader Copy

  “All right,” Thea says as soon as we reach the room. “We can talk now.”

  “Now?” I repeat, with a sideways glance at Tony. “Why not before?”

  She shrugs, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “There aren’t microphones outside,” she says. “But some of the staff are trained to—well, you know.”

  “Actually, we don’t,” Tony says. “Why don’t you tell us?” The words are a question, but it’s clear he means them as an order.

  “They listen. And if they think that someone is here who might cause trouble, they report it to upper management.”

  “Trouble,” I repeat.

  Her face goes bright red. “Well, it is a sex resort.”

  My shoulders sag a bit with relief. “Reporters,” I say. “People who might leak photos. Violate confidentiality.”

  “Right. Exactly.”

  “You had a camera.”

  She blushes. “My boss likes me to come back with souvenirs. And he’s tight with the owner. So I kind of get a pass.”

  I grimace. “Nice to know the place abides so strictly by its own rules.”

  “Oh, my boss only looks at them himself. I, well, he’s not big on traveling. I think it’s his version of amateur porn.”

  “But it’s safe to talk in here?” Tony presses. “No one’s listening? Or looking?”

  “Not here, no.” Thea looks at both me and Tony in turn. “Some of the cabanas have hidden cameras and recorders,” she tells us. “But this one’s clean.”

  “Right,” Tony says after coolly studying her. “Follow me.”

  He leads her into the small kitchen and points at the table. She sits, and I do the same. A moment later, Tony joins us with a bottle of wine. I bite back a smile. The cabana is well-stocked with alcohol, presumably for lowering sexual inhibitions. It also tends to loosen lips.

  As I expect, he pours her a generous glass, then does the same for me. I hide a smile, wondering what kind of interrogation he has in store for me later tonight. Whatever it is, I imagine I’ll like it.

  “Okay,” he says after pouring his own glass. “Tell us how you know all of this. And after that, I want to hear about The Serpent.”

  She takes a sip. “My boss is friends with the owner of the island. He comes here a lot, and sometimes he sends his colleagues. And competition, too. Just offers them a vacation, no strings attached.”

  She rolls her eyes. “But of course he makes sure the staff assigns them one of the cabanas with the microphones or cameras. He finds it useful. And since he’s gotten the owner out of a few jams, he knows which cabanas are wired and which aren’t.”

  “And you’re confident in your information?”

  “Do you think I’d be talking to you if I wasn’t?”

  Tony’s face doesn’t change, but his body stiffens in a way I find telling. I’m certain he’s thinking what I am—this could so easily be a set up. But why? It
’s not as if he’s ever gotten close enough to The Serpent for the assassin to suddenly decide to send Thea in order to lure us here. If The Serpent was trying to draw Tony out, there’d surely been many opportunities over the years. To The Serpent, Tony—and me, for that matter—were essentially nothing. Gnats to be ignored. The man was a ghost, after all. And it’s hard to chase a ghost.

  So unless he was severely breaking pattern, Thea was most likely the real deal. Someone with intel, who decided to reach out.

  As for why … well, that remained to be seen.

  “Who do you work for?” Tony asks.

  “Harvey Dailey,” she says, and I sit up a little bit straighter, recognizing the name.

  While Dailey is hardly an upstanding citizen, he’s not someone who’s ever been in my crosshairs. As far as I know, Dailey isn’t interested in buying little girls for his own personal use. Instead, he’s in the business of blackmail, and he uses the various arms of his legitimate business network to launder the proceeds from those schemes.

  Securities fraud and similar white collar crimes are also on the menu, but none of that ever got my juices flowing, either as a PI or when I was in covert ops. As far as I’m concerned, paper-pushing crimes don’t require my particular skill set. And if someone can be blackmailed, they’re at least a little bit culpable. Not that I can’t sympathize, I do. But if it’s a choice between helping someone keep their illicit affair secret or rescuing a runaway who’s gotten sucked into prostitution, it’s really a no-brainer for me.

  I glance at Tony and can tell from his expression that he recognizes the name, too. “And The Serpent?” he asks. “I suppose he works for Dailey now as well?”