The Protector: The Complete C.I.A. Romance Series

by Lilian Monroe

  I couldn’t. I had to be careful. I didn’t understand what was going on here, and I needed to keep my cards close to my chest. In that moment, I decided not to tell Freddy about the delivery that morning.

  I jumped when the door opened. Freddy, with those annoyingly attractive eyes of his, walked in first. A zip of heat coursed through me, dispelling the memories of another life.

  Behind him was a tall, African-American man. He was bald, his head shining under the fluorescent lights. The man was wearing a well-tailored navy suit.

  His eyes stayed steady on mine before nodding to the table. “Miss Ford,” he said.

  I took a seat, clasping my hands under the table to stop them shaking. Freddy sat down across from me, pushing a cup of coffee toward me, but I ignored it. The other man stayed standing.

  It was probably a standard intimidation tactic—for him to appear large and powerful as he stood above me. As much as I tried to keep my breath steady and my heartbeat slow, I still felt small. It was working. I felt intimidated.

  “My name is Berkeley Howard. You’ve met Agent Finch.”

  I nodded.

  Berkeley continued. “We’ve brought you in because you have a connection to Gianni Russo. Are you aware that he’s suspected of being at the center of an international human trafficking ring?”

  My eyes widened. “I… What? No. Gianni?”

  Berkeley grunted, glancing at Freddy. My heart hammered. I licked my lips, but my mouth felt so dry that it hardly made a difference. The image of Gianni in the back of the truck, tearing a painting from corner to corner flashed through my mind again. I tried to swallow past a lump in my throat as panic flooded my chest.

  Freddy sighed. “Hailey, he’s not a good person.”

  “He gave me a studio. He sold a dozen paintings for me.” My eyes brimmed with tears and I brushed them away angrily. “What… How do you know?”

  “We’ve been watching the Russos for a number of years,” Berkeley said, finally taking a seat. He folded his hands on the table, and the hard lines on his face softened slightly. “We were able to pinpoint Gianni as the central node in a number of recent busts. We believe his parents, Francesca and Marco, ferry the girls overseas and overlook their dispersal through Europe and Asia.

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. “Gianni never seemed like he would… He’s… I don’t…”

  Freddy inhaled. “I know it’s hard to believe, Hailey, but he’s not who you think he is. We still haven’t figured out how the art gallery dovetails into the network, if it even does at all.”

  I nodded, tension easing inside me. “Okay.” So there was a chance the art gallery wasn’t connected. That was good.

  “We need your help,” Freddy continued. “Gianni trusts you. So far, he hasn’t exposed himself, but we think you could gather some important information.”

  I stared at the two men, feeling my stomach churn and my throat tighten. I understood the words they were saying, but I couldn’t process them. Did they know what they were asking me to do? To give up the career that I’d fought to carve out for myself, to betray the man who had given it to me? To trust Freddy Finch, of all people?

  I was supposed to do all that without a second thought?

  Shifting in my seat, I kneaded my hands together. “I’ve never seen anything like that. I’m not that close to him. I just paint.”

  “But you have 24/7 access to your studio, no?” The skin around Freddy’s eyes tightened as he stared at me. Betrayal teased my insides. He only wanted to use me… again.

  I sat up a bit straighter. “You’re asking me to jeopardize my career just because you say so? Without any proof?” The words came out stronger than I anticipated.

  Berkeley stood up and ducked out of the room for a moment.

  Freddy took a deep breath. “Hailey, I’m trying to help you—”

  “It sounds like you’re trying to use me, just like you did when we were seventeen.”

  His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak again, but Berkeley reappeared with a file. He flipped it open to show photos of Gianni with the men I had seen driving the truck, and then more photos of those men with four young girls.

  “This was taken outside the airport. They were bound for Germany. We lost track of them somewhere in Eastern Europe.”

  I listened as my heart sank. I didn’t need this proof—not really. As soon as I’d seen Gianni tear into that painting, I knew something was wrong. When he was around me, he treated artwork with such reverence that to see him take a knife to a canvas had been very, very wrong.

  My shoulders slumped and I brushed a hot tear off my cheek, taking one of the photos and staring at it. The girl was so, so young. The whites of her eyes looked yellow, like she’d been given some sort of drug.

  “I thought he would give me a leg up, help me make a living off these paintings. But he’s just a horrible, vile…” I stuttered, trying to find the words for Gianni. A horrible thought crossed my head and I stared at the two men. “Am I… Am I in danger? Of this? Would they…?”

  Berk and Freddy exchanged a glance before Freddy answered. “You’re… too old, Hailey. They’re not going to abduct you.” He pointed to the pictures. “They go for young girls, usually younger than fifteen. Sometimes as young as five or six.”

  I wanted to throw up, but I just nodded. “I can’t believe this. Gianni… I thought this was my big break,” I whispered. “I know that sounds so selfish. I thought Gianni would be the one to make my career.”

  “You don’t need him, Hailey,” Freddy said gently. “I saw the way people reacted to your work.”

  I scoffed. “They reacted to my work in a Russo Art Gallery. They reacted to my name on a forty-foot banner. Without that, do you think those people would care?”

  Berkeley cleared his throat. “Miss Ford, cooperating with us will be of benefit to you. We can provide an allowance and a place to live. We have resources to help you so you can stand on your own two feet without the help of an international human trafficking organization.” His eyebrows drew together. “But if you don’t help us, we’ll have to consider you hostile to our investigation.”

  I stared at him for a moment and then nodded. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  16

  Freddy

  Hailey wouldn’t even look at me, and it sent a sharp pain through the center of my chest. I knew what we were asking her to do, but I had no choice. Neither of us did.

  Once again, I was asking her to put her future in jeopardy for my sake.

  The first time, she helped me out of love. This time, she was helping me out of fear. I hated seeing that look on her face and knowing that I was the one hurting her.

  But what choice did I have? If I didn’t bring her in, Berk would consider her a threat, along with Gianni. The only way to protect her—and her career—was to make sure Hailey was cooperating with us.

  I just wished I could keep her out of this completely. Our kiss was now a distant memory, and I knew that she didn’t want to be anywhere near me. When I walked her out to the front door, Hailey brushed me off. I offered to drive her back to her friend’s house, but she shook her head and walked away without looking back.

  Berk had given her a phone to contact me with, and I would meet with her the following day to go over what we wanted from her. We were going to set her up with a generous allowance and a decent apartment—which Hailey desperately needed—but it didn’t feel like we were doing the right thing. Not even a little bit.

  I watched her walk away and my heart squeezed, knowing that she was in pain because of me.

  Again.

  Last time, she saved me from getting kicked out of school. The only reason I was in this CIA position now was because she’d taken the blame for what I’d done. She thought her family—the wealthy, privileged LaFleurs—would protect her.

  And I thought so too.

  Or at least, that’s what I told myself. When her father told me to stay away from her, he
said that it would help her legal case after the accident. I resisted until he left me no choice. He presented me with a contract and forty thousand dollars.

  “Either you take the money, leave, and never come back,” he said, watching me carefully. “Or you’ll never go to college. You’ll never have a career. I will do everything in my power to ruin your miserable fucking life, just as you ruined my daughter’s.”

  He was John LaFleur, and I was a nobody. He had the power to kick me out of prep school and to ruin the future that I’d worked so hard to have. I knew from the look in his eyes that he would ruin me if I didn’t stay away from his daughter.

  It was self-preservation. Cowardice. It was the biggest mistake of my life, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I’d endured years of torture at that prep school, and the thought of throwing it all away had turned my stomach.

  I’d told myself that I stayed away to protect Hailey—to make sure she had the best possible future. But now, I knew that John LaFleur had forced me to leave his daughter and then proceeded to disown her. He was a cold-hearted asshole, and I was no better. I took the money. I stayed away. I left Hailey on her own.

  And I couldn’t deny it—the money he gave me to leave town forever was enough to give me a bit of stability through college. I had enough to focus on school and to be accepted into the CIA as an analyst straight after graduation. I owed him my career…

  I had told myself I was taking the money for Hailey. I left to protect Hailey. I turned my back on her because it was the best thing to do, even though it broke my heart. What if I’d just lied to myself for years? Maybe I was just a cold-hearted, selfish asshole like her father.

  Berk’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder and I turned to look at him. “Keep her on a short leash,” he said, his eyes following her out of the lot.

  I nodded. “Will do.” I tried to sound as confident as I could, but I knew that Hailey wasn’t the kind of woman you could keep on a leash. Shed do whatever she wanted, and I was the last person she wanted to listen to.

  As soon as Berk turned away, Gary’s van came tearing through the parking lot. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out, eyes wide with excitement.

  “Come on,” he said. “We have to go. Something’s going down.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I jogged over to the passenger’s side and jumped in. I’d barely closed the door before Gary stepped on the gas. We flew through the streets toward downtown D.C.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The Four Seasons.” Gary was gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were almost white.

  I swallowed. The Four Season Hotel was where the Francesca and Marco Russo were staying. If something was happening there, it was important. I checked my waistband for my weapon and felt the familiar flood of adrenaline course through me.

  Other agents in the Special Activities Division were used to this feeling. Zane and Chris had been together in the Marines. The CIA’s SAD was full of ex-military. Not me, though. I’d started as an analyst and only started working in the field after a couple of years in the CIA. This feeling was new to me. My heart thumped as I tried my best to stay calm.

  “What’s happening?”

  “We’ve seen movement from Liu Wei. He’s in D.C.”

  “The Chinese guy?”

  Gary nodded. “Suspected of human trafficking, but we’ve never been able to pin anything on him. Got his hands in drugs as well. Made big moves to gain territory in New York a few years ago.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “This could be the meeting we were waiting for. We know the Russos are taking girls to Eastern Europe. What if the end goal is to send them off to Asia? Don’t American girls get a high price over there?”

  I grimaced. This whole operation made my skin crawl. I inhaled as distaste gurgled in my stomach. I couldn’t stop human trafficking. I couldn’t stop all young women—young girls, really, most of them—being abducted and sold to the highest bidder. I could, however, stop the Russos. I could stop Gianni. I could protect Hailey.

  Maybe, if I did this right, I would feel better about what I’d done to Hailey all those years ago.

  We were silent for the rest of the ride. When we got to the Four Seasons, Gary did a loop of the block and parked the car halfway down the street. We had a clear view of the entrance, and I could see two other unmarked cars that belonged to the Agency.

  “We bugged the Russo’s room while they were out,” Gary said, climbing into the back of the van. He handed me a headset and put one on himself, then started fiddling with the dials of the equipment hanging on the van’s walls. “They’re in the penthouse.”

  After a couple of seconds, snippets of quiet conversation came in over the headset. The screens in front of us turned on, and I had a bird’s eye view of the Russo’s hotel room. I gulped.

  Then, we waited. And waited. And waited.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, and then unclipped my gun holster and shoved it in the glove box. I climbed back beside Gary, slouched in my seat, and waited some more. Nothing was happening. I glanced from Gary to the hotel, drumming my fingers on my thigh. Finally, after nearly two hours, I huffed. “What’s going on?”

  Gary nodded to the screen, and I watched as Francesca Russo went to the hotel desk and plugged her phone into the stereo. Loud classical music started blaring and I ripped the headset off.

  “Shit.”

  Gary grumbled, turning the volume down and glancing at me. “They’re smart. They know we’re listening—or at least suspect it.”

  I took a deep breath. The Russos were edging to expand their business. We knew Liu Wei had connections to the Asian underworld. Two of his henchmen had been busted for drugs, but never the main man himself. Human trafficking, though… that was a whole other level of darkness.

  Biting my lip, I stared at the screens. Gary tapped on a keyboard and four other screens flashed with security footage from the hotel—the main entrance, a stairwell, and the hallway outside the Russo’s room.

  “There he is,” I said, pointing to the main entrance. Mr. Wei, the Chinese kingpin from New York, was walking in. A few seconds later, one of our agents followed. I chewed on my nail, watching him cross the lobby toward the elevators. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “We don’t know enough. We should have been prepared for this.”

  “We’ve been too focused on Gianni.”

  And Hailey.

  Just as the thought crossed my head, I saw her walk into the lobby. I leaned forward, my nose inches from the screen. As if she could sense my gaze, she scanned the lobby, looking toward the camera. I knew she couldn’t see me, but it felt like she could somehow sense my presence.

  Or maybe I just wanted her to sense it. I wanted that connection.

  Either way, I saw Gianni grip her arm and drag her along. She tore her eyes away from the camera and my stomach dropped.

  “Something’s wrong,” I said. “She shouldn’t be here.”

  Gary tapped on the keyboard again and a new view came up on the screen. Gianni and Hailey waited outside the elevators. Hailey shifted her weight from foot to foot, glancing around nervously. Gianni’s face was dark.

  Gary growled. “I don’t know. They wouldn’t bring an outsider in on a deal.”

  Hailey’s arms hung limply at her sides and my heart thumped. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “She wouldn’t be here if they were making a deal. She’s not part of their inner circle.”

  “I’m going in.”

  “Freddy—”

  I slammed the van door and jogged toward the hotel, Gary’s protests cut short. Hailey needed me, and I wasn’t going to let her down. Not this time.

  17

  Hailey

  After the visit with the CIA, my head was spinning. The fact that I could even say I had a ‘visit with the CIA’ was more than I could handle. There was only one thing that would calm me down, and that was painting. I needed
to feel the weight of the paintbrush in my hand and smell the odor of the oils in my studio. I wanted the familiar, comforting feeling of my hand sweeping colors across the canvas.

  So instead of going to Tanya’s, I went to the studio. I used my key to get in the back entrance, glancing at the garage door where I’d seen the delivery. It was closed, and I shook my head.

  I couldn’t think about that right now.

  Worrying about what Gianni may or may not be up to made me feel sick. Worrying about Freddy’s sudden reappearance in my life brought back enough memories to begin with.

  Shrugging off my jacket and tossing it onto the studio’s couch, I stretched my neck from side to side and let out a breath. I turned my phone off, sighing as I saw more notifications from Jayden.

  I really needed to talk to him. I needed to tell him that it was over between us, and that I wasn’t coming back. Tanya would probably tell me that I didn’t owe Jayden anything, but I needed to do it. For closure. For me.

  Taking a fresh canvas from the side of the room, I propped it up on my easel and stared at it. I turned the imaginary conversation between Jayden and I over in my head, coming up with a thousand scripts to break up with him.

  When I put the first brush stroke down, my shoulders relaxed and my soul felt a bit calmer. I painted until I forgot that I was upset, and then I painted some more.

  I didn’t stop until I heard a knock on the studio door which pulled me out of my focus. I set my supplies down and wiped my hands on a rag before heading to the door. When I opened it, my shoulders slumped.

  “Why haven’t you been answering my calls? Don’t you realize how worried I was?” Jayden’s face was stormy as he pushed past me into my studio.

  Into my space.

  It was a violation. Having him here—after what he’d done last night—I couldn’t bear it. Anger zipped up my spine as I turned to face him. The door clanged shut behind me.

  “So?” Jayden arched his eyebrows. “What, you’re just ignoring me now? What the fuck is going on?”