License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel) (8 page)

But she had Rock’s attention now. He stared at her with something like hope in his eyes. “Stress does strange things to a person. Is that when you broke your shoe?”

“No. I tripped over the body and came down hard on my heel and that’s when it snapped off. As I bent to retrieve it, another of the bastards fired at me and I accidentally kicked the heel and didn’t have time to find it.

“It was sloppy spycraft, leaving part of a white wedding slipper behind like Cinderella on a bad night and I’m not happy about it. But I didn’t have much choice. In that white dress, I was too visible, a sitting bride, so to speak. I ran for the car, firing back at that RIOT jerk as I went.

“The bastard grazed my arm and it gushed.” She was still mad about being hit at all. She’d almost gotten a telltale scar.

At the mention of gushing blood, Rock flinched.

She’d forgotten for a minute he wasn’t used to real blood and gore like the spies she was used to hanging out with. To distract him, she mimicked the motions of her story as she spoke, just like she had when she’d related the incident to her buddies at the Agency. “So there I was—running with a distinct hobble because of the broken shoe, applying pressure to my gun arm, and trying to fire over my back. It was quite the scene. And funny, too, in retrospect.”

He scowled. “Not funny, Lani.”

“The guys at Langley laughed when I told the story.”

“I’m not the guys at Langley. I don’t see what’s funny about you being hurt.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a bit like something out of Funniest Spy Videos.” She mimicked the actions again. “The hobbling and the running and the slipping—”

He shook his head.

“Well, to each his own, I guess. You’ll get used to spy humor. But to continue the tale, I guess I didn’t do a fantastic job of stopping the bleeding, which is why the police found my blood along with that villain’s.”

“Did you kill him?” Rock asked. There was no smile in his voice, either.

“Just nicked him. But then, being wounded, I was at a disadvantage. I’m usually a crack shot.” It was important he knew she was competent. “My fellow agent hit him with a clean kill shot. Which is what he’s paid to do, of course.” She still felt the sting of indignity in having to mention another agent had had to bail her out of trouble.

“We meant to clean up the site before the cops got there. We called our cleanup crew to take care of it. But the body was gone before they arrived. RIOT must have removed it, but missed the heel of my shoe. They didn’t want to be discovered any more than we did. There, does that comfort you? Or will you have more nightmares now?”

Rock stared at her with his head in his hands, his jaw set, his eyes hard. “So all this pointing at me and throwing suspicion my way—was that the CIA, too?”

So that’s why he didn’t warm to her story—he was mad about being slandered? He was quick on the uptake. A little too quick, maybe. But his intelligence was part of what made him attractive to her.

“Suspicious minds,” she said, shaking her head. But of course the Agency was behind them. Partly. “Rumors will fly. The public loves a scandal.”

He frowned. Opened his mouth. Shut it again as if he’d reconsidered what he was going to say. He paused and then continued. “There’s something I don’t understand—if these RIOT bastards saw you, knew it was you who took these plans, won’t they be suspicious and looking for you now? Aren’t you in danger? And why would one of their allies, Blackledge, take you into his company when they think you’re an enemy spy?”

She couldn’t help laughing. He looked so solemn. But he was right. And she was touched by his concern. “I’m always in danger.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. She was used to it.

“But to answer your question, we’re better than you think. The RIOT bastards have no idea I work for NCS. Any of their agents who could identify me as the spy who stole their Hoover Dam intel, or a spy period, are dead.”

“But they know Lani Torres isn’t dead,” Rock said. “So what’s their theory?”

“If anything, they think I was running from you. Running from something, in any case.

“Vegas showgirls, even magician’s assistants, generally aren’t pure as the driven snow.” She laughed. “There are all kinds of scenarios. Like I was in some kind of gambling or drug trouble and had to leave town in a hurry. Or I had escaped with a large chunk of your change, money-grubbing little me.”

“Yeah, I know. The cops went over and over my bank accounts.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

“Sorry about that, Rock. Really.”

He squinted at her and frowned. “Yeah, I know, collateral damage.” He scowled. “That’s all these RIOT people believe about you?” He didn’t look convinced she was in the clear.

“Not exactly. That damn broken heel.” She resisted, not for the first time, cursing beneath her breath. “It announced I was in that alley. They think I saw something I shouldn’t have.” She shook her head. “I’ll never wear cheap shoes again.”

“Hey! Those shoes weren’t cheap. I paid a boatload for them. They were custom designed.” Rock tried to smile at her, but she could tell he was shaken and defensive because he felt responsible.

She laughed at his indignation. “Then I suggest you hire a better designer next time, one with some engineering and structural expertise. A woman in my position needs to be able to count on her footwear, both on and offstage.”

She studied him with his penetrating stare. “Back to the original topic. RIOT believes my fellow agent stole their secrets. He’s a famous assassin in clandestine circles and his signature was all over those two kills. They aren’t concerned with him. They know they’ll come up against him again. It’s part of the game.

“But RIOT will welcome me into Blackledge’s crew easily enough. They want me where they can keep an eye on me and learn what I know. They can’t have a leak. Of course, they’ll never find out what I really know. I’ll convince them I know nothing.” She grinned. “When they clear me, I’m good to go.”

That was a lie, too. They’d try to kill her either way—whether she convinced them she knew nothing or spilled all the Agency’s secrets. They weren’t the kind of thugs who took chances. Her best insurance policy was to string them along until the completion of the mission. Not that she’d tell Rock any of this. It would only make him jumpier.

“And if not?” His gaze was penetrating.

“I’m dead. They don’t suffer leaks.” She shrugged as if it were no big deal.

But Rock came out of his seat and onto his feet. “What!”

Yeah, she’d been right to keep the whole truth from him. “Calm down. They don’t know who they’re up against. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, obviously. Because you’re an ace shot when you’re not windmilling in blood slicks, tripping over bodies, and no one’s nicked your gun arm.”

She nodded. “Exactly right. Anyway, that’s a once-in-a-career bad luck situation. It won’t happen again.” She didn’t tell him stuff usually went wrong. Murphy’s Law was an integral part of the spy biz. The general rule in the Agency was that you should expect to fail half the time.

“You’re the one who needs to be careful,” she said to divert his attention away from her and remind him of what was really what. “I’ve come back to make sure you’re safe.”

He stared at her. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” She stared back. “A little flash powder won’t save you next time.”

He studied her. “We’ll see about that.”

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Finally Rock shook his head. “This whole situation’s a little awkward, isn’t it? Is this the part of the conversation where I ask what you’ve been up to these past few years? I’m sure you know my every move so there’s no point discussing me.”

That sounded more like the old Rock, the one who had a sense of humor and irony.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said. Which was an out-and-out lie. She wished she could tell him about her pregnancy, and the birth of their son, congratulate him on being a daddy, and see his joy. Tell Rock how he’d given her the best gift of all and made life worth living. Share Stone’s first smile and steps. But the revelation of that secret hung on the mission. And could only ever be told if she were successful.

“That’s not classified, that is. Mostly I spent my time in hot water, confined to desk work and playing nursemaid to a recovering agent who was blown up in the field.” She couldn’t keep the grumble out of her voice.

“You’ll be pleased to hear, though, that I kept up my skills. As part of his therapy, I taught that agent a bit of magic.”

“None of my tricks, I hope.” Rock’s voice held the slightest hint of a teasing edge, which was encouraging.

“Of course not! What do you think I am?” On second thought, that was a bad question. She had a pretty good idea what he thought she was and it wasn’t pleasant. “I know how to keep a secret.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

“I suppose I deserve your sarcasm, Rock. But really, put this in perspective—I saved thousands of people. Thousands. How many people can say that?”

He didn’t answer. How could he? She had him fair and square.

“Now,” she said. “Have I satisfied your curiosity sufficiently? Can we get down to the mission? We only have a few hours left until daylight and I have to scram.”

“Not so fast.” He sprang out of the chair and sat down on the sofa disturbingly, enticingly close to her. “I have a condition, a term of agreement.” His voice was hypnotic, like the one he used to engage a crowd.

She didn’t trust him or herself. It would be so easy to drop her guard and melt into his arms. And so dangerous. “Don’t worry about terms. NCS will be paying you handsomely. And if they balk, you can blackmail them. You have leverage.” She laughed, but it came out nervously.

He shook his head. “Those are my terms with your boss and the government. I mean terms between us—you and me.” He took her hands in his warm, tight grip.

“Terms between you and me—what are you talking about?” She eyed him warily, too stunned to pull free from his grip. As usual, he had something up his sleeve.

“Give us a real shot at making our marriage work. If that means waiting until after the mission to genuinely get to know each other, so be it.” The look in his eyes was completely pleading and hopeful, so smoothly seductive.

He almost made her believe in the dream that they could make things work and live happily ever after. But that was Rock, the king of illusions.

Her heart hammered. “Rock, you don’t even know who I really am,” she said as reasonably as she could. And when he found out, would he ever forgive her or be able to live with who she was and what she did and had done?

“You only saw a small part of the real me during the time we were together. The part I let you see. The part I played. You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“I think I do.” His tone was uncompromising and confident.

She took a deep breath. “If I don’t agree?”

“I walk away now and your mission is toast.”

“You do realize that if you walk away you’re a dead man? RIOT wants you dead because, to their knowledge, you’re the only other person capable of performing Outlandish Marauders and thwarting their plans?

“We’re here to protect you. Once we’re done with this mission, you’ll be safe again. Until then—”

“I don’t care, Lani. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.” He squeezed her hands and stared deeply into her eyes.

Why did she get the feeling she was almost playing a game of chicken with him? Show no fear or duplicity. She squeezed his hands in return. “Deal. But I’m only doing this to save you from yourself.”

He held on tightly when she tried to withdraw her hands from his. “You agreed much too quickly,” he said. “Don’t forget. I’m a magician and just as used to fooling people, lying, misdirecting, and pretending as you are. Don’t think because I don’t have a notarized legal document you can get out of this. If you renege on your promise, I’ll talk and damn the consequences.”

“And be tried for treason,” she retorted just as reasonably.

“The damage will already be done.” He smiled, suddenly pleasant and released her hands as he settled back in the sofa. “Now, tell me all about the mission, my handler, and my new best friend Tate. And while you’re at it, the details of how you’re going to get Sol to take you on.”

She slipped off her shoe and pulled a small data card out. “It’s all on here, the entire mission brief and cover dossier.” She held it out to him.

He took it reluctantly. “You really need a new hiding place.” He stared at the data disk.

“Study it carefully. You only get one read of it and then the data self-destructs.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her. “Like in
Mission: Impossible.
”

“Well, yeah. Only the actual disk doesn’t disintegrate or go up in smoke, just the data.”

“You’re hedging,” he said. “What’s in here that I’m not going to like?”

She may as well tell him. “I’m going to go to Sol and offer to split your reward money with him if he’ll take me on as his assistant.”

“My reward money?” His tone was frighteningly neutral and calm.

“Well, the government will pay it. You won’t be out a thing, but we do have to keep up pretenses.”

“And then you feed him my illusion secrets?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He cocked a brow. “But you publicly humiliate me by reappearing in Sol’s act.”

She blew out a breath. “I have my orders. My hands are tied.”

He stared at her. “And what’s the story behind why you didn’t come back to me?”

She shrugged. “Money. Cowardice. I’m afraid you won’t take me back. Like I said, it’s all in the brief.”

“I’d rather hear it from you.”

He was just being obstinate now. “I’m not the storyteller that the Agency cover life developer is. Now he can really spin a tale. Reading his briefs are like reading a best-selling thriller. Believe me—”

“Lani—”

“Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

“If we’re estranged, how are we going to report to each other and get to know each other, for real, as you like to say? Won’t that involve a lot of sneaking around?”

Rock wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him. “That’s where Tate comes in.”