Freddy paused, stuck somewhere between laughter and anger. I used the moment to square my shoulders and shake my head. “We can’t be seen together.”
“I’m buying a painting off you.”
“We can’t be seen together outside of normal artist-client interactions.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” I stamped my foot like a petulant child and Freddy’s eyebrow arched. He loved frustrating me. He loved getting under my skin and I loved having him there.
But I couldn’t. My breakup with Jayden was too fresh. This CIA business was too confusing. Throwing decade-old Freddy Finch feelings into the mix was like hosing myself in gasoline and lighting a match.
Freddy’s hand drifted over my cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers stroked my jaw and for the briefest moment, I wondered what if…
What if I crushed my lips against his and wrapped my legs around his waist? What if I tore his shirt off and dug my nails into his skin? What if I let him claim me as I clutched the wire shelves beside me, biting my lip to stifle my screams?
Inhaling sharply, I angled my head away from him. My heart rattled and I didn’t dare look at him. He stepped aside as I scrambled toward the door.
“I’ll call you when your apartment is ready. We’ll need to fill out some paperwork and you’ll need to be briefed on what to expect.”
I kept my hand on the doorknob as I nodded. “Okay.”
I fell out of the cleaning supply closet, gulping down air as I glanced back and forth to make sure no one saw me. I leaned against the wall, putting a hand to my forehead for a moment until I could walk.
No matter how much I resisted it, Freddy’s life was intertwined with my own. From now on, I would have to see him, speak to him, smell him, resist him until this was all over. Even if I wanted to get away from him—which I knew I would never want to do—I couldn’t.
I was an asset for the CIA, and Freddy Finch was my handler. My career and future were hanging on by a thread, and the last thing that I could do was hand it all over to the first man who had turned his back on me ten years ago.
On shaky legs, I made my way through the lobby and out of the doors into the crisp autumn evening. Gianni was waiting for me and I painted a smile on my face as I slid in the car.
“All good?” He asked.
I nodded. “Great.”
Fantastic. Never better.
20
Freddy
I counted to a hundred before opening the door and slipping out of the cleaner’s closet. Hailey was gone, and I felt her absence to my core. Now that I’d been near her a couple of times, I just wanted more. I needed more.
Old wounds were being torn open again, ripped apart with every look, every touch, every breath. Our lives were once again inextricably linked.
The only difference was that this time, I wouldn’t walk away from her. Hailey was already in harm’s way, but I’d protect her from Gianni—and Berkeley, for that matter—with everything I had. As soon as we had enough on the Russos, I was getting her out of there.
Maybe we’d make that trip to Paris, after all.
When I opened the van door, Gary glanced at me above his glasses and sighed. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Probably, yeah.” I glanced at the monitors, where I could see Liu Wei and Gianni’s parents. I slipped a headset on, but all I could hear was the same loud, classical music.
“Looks like they’re wrapping up,” Gary said, nodding to the trio. They were standing and shaking hands. Wei laughed and Francesca Russo smiled.
I shivered. “Who are we going to follow? You been speaking to Berk?”
“Wei.”
Gary slipped his headset off and clambered over to the driver’s seat. I followed, clicking my seatbelt into place as we waited for our target to exit the hotel. I was dying to know what they’d discussed in that hotel room, and why Hailey had been there.
Dread knotted my stomach when I thought of her position in all this—stuck between criminals like them and an organization like the CIA. I knew the dangers of being an asset for one of our operations, and just how many of our field agents got themselves into trouble. I knew that Hailey was in more danger than she realized—and the only person who could help her, the only person who cared, was me.
I thought of Hailey while we followed Liu Wei to his hotel. I thought of her as Gary filled me in on what the Russos were doing. I thought of her as another team of agents relieved us and we made our way back to headquarters.
She never left my mind, and I wasn’t going to forget who I was here to protect.
For the next week, that’s exactly how it was. Our surveillance followed the Russos and every business partner they met with, twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week. Liu Wei left D.C., and we notified our agents in New York. The operation grew. I watched Hailey interact with the Russos again and again through screens and telescopic lenses, wanting nothing more than to extract her from that situation.
But the more time I spent watching the Russos, the more I realized that we would never get close to them without Hailey. They were far too careful. We needed her.
But I didn’t understand why she’d been brought to that meeting. I didn’t understand why Gianni had taken an interest in her, or what her role was in all this. And that worried me.
It didn’t take long for the CIA to source an apartment for Hailey. I picked her up at her friend’s house to drive her to her new home. She only had one suitcase and a duffel bag.
“Where’s the rest of your stuff?” I asked, hauling her suitcase into the trunk of my car.
“This is the rest of my stuff.” She glanced at me and smiled. “I’m a minimalist… mostly because I’m broke.”
“Not for long. I hear you’re making quite a name for yourself in the art community.” I walked to the driver’s side door.
“What would you know about the art community?” She grinned, staring at me across the top of the car. “Last time I checked, Freddy Finch only cares about computer programming and the next big startup.”
“A lot has changed in the past ten years.”
I meant it in a lighthearted way, but Hailey’s face darkened. Her lips pinched together and she averted her eyes, nodding quickly. We slipped into the car and drove to her new home in silence. I helped her bring her few possessions inside. She glanced around the apartment as she bit her lip.
“It’s… nice,” she said. The walls were plain white, and the furniture looked cheap and worn. There were no ornaments or decorations anywhere.
“It’s safe,” I replied. Hailey glanced at me and sadness flashed across her face. I took a step toward her. “Hailey… I wanted to talk about…” I took a deep breath. “About what happened when we were kids.”
“There’s no need,” she said quickly, turning away from me. She unzipped her purse and grabbed her phone charger, plugging it into the nearest outlet. “It’s done now. I’ve moved on, you’ve moved on, it’s done.” Her phone dinged as she plugged it in, and Hailey moved to fiddle with her suitcase zipper.
“It’s not done. Your dad—”
“My dad only cared about himself,” she interrupted, turning her head toward me without looking me in the eye. “He cared about his reputation, and I tarnished it. He threw me out. I survived.”
“I didn’t know, Hailey. I would have stayed. He told me that it was better if I left.” The words were on the tip of my tongue… He paid me to leave. But how did that make me look? Hailey was just starting to talk to me now, and I needed to have a working relationship with her. If I told her my darkest secret, my greatest shame, that I’d taken her father’s money to leave her on her own… she’d never forgive me.
Hailey scoffed, turning back to her suitcase. She unzipped it in one smooth motion and flipped it open. “It was better for my father if you left, not me. It’s fine.” She stood up, turning to me and finally lifting her gaze to meet mine. Her face was shuttered, and
I knew she didn’t want to hear anything more from me. She swallowed, sighing. “It’s fine. I’ll call you if I need anything. Thanks for the lift… and the pay check.”
It’s not fine, I wanted to say. I wasn’t here just to give her a pay check and an apartment courtesy of the CIA. I wasn’t here just because I had to be for the Russo investigation.
I was here for her. I was here because Hailey was three feet away from me and for the first time in ten years, I felt like I could breathe again.
But she turned away from me and started to unpack, and I knew that was my cue to leave. The door clicked shut behind me and I heard Hailey sigh through it.
I deserved this. I deserve to be shut out, told to leave, ignored. I walked out on her when she needed me most, and I didn’t deserve her love or her affection.
But fuck, I wanted it. The more she turned away from me, the more I wanted to prove to her that I was worthy of her. The more she looked at me with those hard eyes, the more I wanted to soften them and make her laugh again.
This wasn’t about Gianni Russo anymore. I couldn’t give two fucks about the operation, or Berkeley, or the fact that this was my first big opportunity at the Agency.
There was something deeper, something more real. And I had an opportunity to make things right.
21
Hailey
Undercover CIA operations were boring, apparently. When Freddy first appeared in my life, I thought there would be car chases and guns, just like in the movies.
But my life mostly continued as normal—apart from the new apartment and extra money in my account. Once a week, on Tuesdays, Freddy came by the apartment and I updated him on what I’d seen at the gallery.
The first Tuesday, I dreaded his visit. I paced my new apartment up and down until my legs were tired, pulling at a loose thread on my sweater. I thought of his large, muscular body in my personal space. His eyes on mine, making my heart do a funny kind of jump. His voice reverberating through my body.
I jumped at the knock on the door, and let him in with shaking hands.
But Freddy was professional. He listened to what I had to say about the Russos, took notes, gave me instructions for the following week, and then he left.
I was relieved. And disappointed.
The following two Tuesdays were much the same. Nervous. Partially excited. Dreading his presence and craving it all at once. Afterwards, wired and tired even though nothing had happened.
Everything was surreal, so I decided to open up a bank account in my birth name. I wasn’t sure what Freddy and his team knew about me—probably everything—but still, it gave me some comfort to know that I was transferring some of the money they were giving me into a bank account they didn’t know about.
I grasped onto any little thing to give me some semblance of control while my life spiraled out of it.
My contact with Freddy was minimal, and I found myself wanting more. After a month as an asset for the CIA, I worried that they’d realize I wasn’t bringing any value to their investigation. They’d cut me off, and once again Freddy would walk out of my life… and this time, it would be forever.
But week after week, he showed up. His eyes lingered on mine, but he never stayed in my apartment any longer than he needed to. He was professional. The explosiveness that we’d had when we first saw each other waned. I locked my feelings away in a secret corner of my heart, buried under a decade of pain.
Tanya was there for me during those times. She visited me, helped me pick up some things for the new apartment, and celebrated every painting I sold with a bottle of wine and a box of takeout. In the most unlikely of ways, I felt like I was growing into a new person. I no longer needed a man like Jayden, and I had enough money in the bank to feel more secure than I had since I’d left home at seventeen.
Even Freddy’s presence in my life was no longer overwhelming. As time went on, I stopped dreading his visits and started looking forward to them.
Two months into my work with the CIA—on a Tuesday—I glanced anxiously at the clock. Freddy was due any minute. I stood by the stove, stirring a beef stew and shifting my weight from foot to foot. I checked my reflection in the window, adjusting my shirt and smoothing my hair.
When he knocked on the door, my heart skipped a beat.
“Hey,” he said as I opened the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead. My fingers itched to tuck it back, so I balled them into a fist. His presence intoxicated me. His eyes flicked down to my lips for a second and my breath caught.
I stepped aside and let him in. He took his usual seat at the table, his eyes following my movements as I made my way to sit across from him.
“Smells good in here,” he said.
“Beef stew.”
He nodded, intertwining his fingers and leaning his forearms on the table. “So? What’s been happening this week?”
“Same as last week. Gianni was away on business for a couple of days, and when he got back, he had some meetings with clients. I wasn’t invited to any of them. He doesn’t talk to me much, Freddy. I don’t think I’m going to find anything out.”
“You’re doing great,” he said. “These things take time.”
I nodded. “There’s a gallery opening in three weeks, so he’s planning for that.”
Freddy’s eyebrows arched. “Okay. Good. Anything else?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t talk to me much—not unless someone is interested in my paintings. He never comes to the studio.”
Freddy nodded. “When’s the gallery opening?”
“Just before Christmas. December 20th, I think.”
“Alright. I’ll be picking up my commissioned piece tomorrow at the gallery, so we’ll try to make sure you’re not there. It’s easier if we don’t interact with each other in front of the Russos. Sometimes people can pick up on familiarity without us realizing it.”
I nodded. Freddy pushed his chair back. I knew our meeting was almost over, and it would be a whole week before I saw him again.
Suddenly, I knew I didn’t want that. I’d spent the past two months seeing him like this—in snippets of professional conversation—and it felt like an itch that I just couldn’t scratch.
I wanted the real Freddy. I wanted the Freddy that showed up at Jayden’s apartment, wild-eyed and feral.
So, when he stood up and walked to the door, I stopped him. He turned back to me, one eyebrow arched in question.
“You want some stew?”
His head tilted, and I cringed.
Stew? Really?
But then, for the first time in weeks, Freddy’s lips curled into a smile and he nodded. “Sure. I’m starving.”
My heart jumped. His eyes drilled into mine and a fire burned deep in the pit of my stomach. I nodded, gesturing to the table as I walked on trembling legs to the kitchen.
Taking a moment to compose myself, I leaned against the counter and inhaled. He was here, in my apartment. I could sense him in the next room and it made my head spin.
“You okay?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to see him in the kitchen doorway. His eyes ran over me and my cheeks flushed.
I swallowed. “Yeah.” Heat settled between my legs as he took a step toward me. His gaze never left mine, and I never wanted it to. I wanted him to look at me like this until the end of time. Like I was the only woman who’d ever existed. Like he could tear me open in an instant.
Like he wanted to fuck me.
Every step that brought Freddy closer to me made my heart beat more wildly. He said nothing, but his look spoke a thousand words. I leaned against the kitchen counter and gripped it with both hands as he moved toward me. He placed his hands on either side of me, caging me against the cabinets.
My breath hitched. His t-shirt stretched over his chest and his jeans hung low on his hips. The waistband of his underwear peeked out between them and the sight of it made my cheeks burn. I dragged my eyes up to h
is, my whole body under his spell.
“Why did you ask me to stay?” Freddy asked, his voice low and deep. He dipped his head down, staring deeply into my eyes.
His smell did something magical to my insides. I melted and burned for him. My thighs squeezed together as my tongue darted out to moisten my lips. Finally, I shrugged. “I have extra stew,” I said with a trembling voice.
“You didn’t want me to stay for stew.” His thigh nestled between mine and my cheeks went hot. He could definitely feel the heat between my legs. His eyelids lowered and a growl rumbled somewhere deep in his chest.
My hands squeezed the countertop so tight that my fingertips went numb. Freddy took my hand and placed it between his legs.
“Feel it. Feel what you do to me every time I see you. Every fucking Tuesday I walk out of here like this.”
His hardness throbbed against his pants and I slid my hand up and down his length. My breath caught in my throat as I felt him. Hard.
For me.
I stroked him slowly as his gaze darkened. He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. I could feel the raw power coiling in his body—his strength and desire simmering just beneath the surface. He throbbed against my hand and I pressed harder.
His leg pushed harder between mine and even that slight movement made me gasp. He dipped his head down and brushed his lips ever so gently against mine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
“I know you want me,” he said quietly. His lips stayed too far away. I wanted them on mine, on me.
“We shouldn’t,” I heard myself say.
“I know,” he growled. His hand slipped to my waist, teasing the edge of my pants. “It’s too complicated. You hate me.” His hand slid down and he unfastened the button of my pants. “There’s too much history, and the future is too uncertain.”
“Exactly,” I sighed, barely able to get the word out. His hand slipped into my panties as heat rushed between my legs. He was telling me, word for word, what I’d been telling myself every time I saw him.
The Protector: The Complete C.I.A Romance Series Page 46
