Somehow Sam had been blown up while on a “fishing trip” at Victoria Harbor. Well,
of course Drew was involved. Even more interestingly, that mission had saved Drew
and Staci’s marriage. They were just days away from signing the final divorce papers
when Drew got the assignment.
The spying life was notoriously hard on marriages. Yet somehow the Agency had a low
to nonexistent divorce rate. Odd, but love was fickle. And the chief, Emmett Nelson,
was a master manipulator. Willow always thought he somehow had a hand in the high
rate of marriage survival.
Rumors in the Agency had been circulating for as long as Willow had been married to
Jack that Emmett’s own marriage had failed years ago. Though it was hard to picture
the kind of woman who would dare marry Emmett. It sparked the imagination, that’s
for sure. Emmett never talked about her or the marriage. And all the records had been
sealed.
If Willow could uncover any intel on Emmett’s defunct marriage, she’d have power over
him. Immense power. Enough to get him to help her discover if Con was really Jack.
Which, of course, he was. He had to be.
However, daydreaming about blackmailing Emmett into helping her was futile.
Willow chatted with Staci for another half hour and signed off feeling amazingly cheered,
given the news she’d just received. She was determined, absolutely determined.
The Sense was not wrong and neither was she. Con was Jack. He had to be. And she was
resolved to prove it.
Jack had left her no alternative. She mentally shrugged. She had to sleep with Con.
Tonight.
Before Orchard Bluff ran him out on a rail or in an applecart, whichever was handier.
Jack couldn’t lie to her with his lovemaking. Of that she was certain—he had that
telltale chuff, that almost purr.
And sleeping with Jack, or even Con, would be no hardship. None at all. Not sleeping
with Con, though, was simply hideous torture. Every part of her being ached for him
and his touch. Some parts of her more than others.
She’d have to be sneaky to outwit and outplay the people of Orchard Bluff who’d been
trying to keep her from Con all day. Somehow they’d organized and been taking shifts
to make sure she didn’t get near Con.
She’d barely had a spare minute since she opened the shop. The one time she’d tried
to sneak out and over to Aldo’s, Sheryl had intercepted her and scooped her right
back into the store.
Even now, if she looked out her bedroom window she was sure she’d see a shadowy figure
keeping watch. She was under surveillance.
But no one, absolutely no one, could keep her from Jack. She hadn’t been married to
a spy for nothing. She could operate covertly when the need arose.
She mentally mapped out a plan. She’d sneak out the back way, head to Aldo’s guesthouse
on foot, and take a shortcut so none of the good people of Orchard Bluff intercepted
and deflected her the way they’d been doing all day.
She’d dress in camo. No, not Jack’s old camo. Night camo. Black jeans, sexy black
boots that came to her knees. She had a pair Jack had given her before his last mission—shiny,
stiletto heels that laced up the front and back, lined with downy fur that ran up
the lacing. Jack once told her no hetero man on the planet could resist a woman wearing
those boots.
She was going to make Jack put his money where his mouth was.
She’d put on a black button-up blouse, black lace thong panties, sexy bra to match.
Black trench coat. Black gloves. Jack loved her in sexy black.
Put on dark makeup—smoky eyes, pouty lips, and seductive perfume.
Yesterday, she’d tried to torment Jack into revealing himself by feeding him everything
he detested and wearing see-through white to tempt him into a tryst. Tonight, black
was her friend. Jack had a fantasy he’d always wanted her to enact where she played
an enemy agent out to seduce him. It was time he got his wish.
* * *
As he finished his nightly weight-lifting routine in the guesthouse, Jack cursed the
Rooster for making his life and job infinitely harder. And turning the town against
him. And preventing him from going to a real gym.
Jack made a muscle and frowned. Not bad, but he feared he was getting soft.
The good people of Orchard Bluff wanted to run him out. Aldo had defended him and
insisted he stay as long as he liked and finish out his vacation. But Jack’s days
in Orchard Bluff, dead or alive, were definitely numbered. And with the controversy
surrounding Con it hardly seemed like staying was going to help reduce Jack’s stress
level.
He had to kill Kennett and get the hell out of Orchard Bluff before he lost his mind
and did something foolish with Willow, like chuffing his brains out and blowing his
cover. Or someone, namely the Rooster, “accidentally” mistook him for a deer and took
him out in much the same way he’d been planning to kill the Rooster with his newspaper
crossbow. Still hadn’t gotten a decent shot. The citizens of Orchard Bluff were watching
him too closely.
Much as Jack loved Willow, he was no good for her. She’d never understand his lifestyle
or condone it. She’d
really
never forgive him for killing Kennett, especially because Jack could never reveal
the evil, villainous bastard Kennett was. Top-secret intel was a pain in the butt
sometimes. And a definite impediment to love.
Jack had a plan, a big plan that would go boom in the night.
Tonight, Jack had a little prep work to do. A bit of surveillance, if he could escape
the prying eyes of every apple grower from here to the Canadian border.
Evil will appear good and good will appear evil,
he thought. And that was never truer than now. Kennett had the people of Orchard
Bluff snowed good and well.
Shirtless, Jack slipped into a pair of black jeans. Put on his thick wool surveillance
socks and black army boots. He rubbed eye black cream beneath his eyes and was scrounging
around for a shirt when his doorbell rang.
Who the hell can that be?
He grabbed his smartphone and looked at the front door cam. A shapely woman in a black
trench coat stood silhouetted in the front porch light, looking like every fantasy
he’d ever had.
Damn, Willow was even wearing the sexy boots he’d given her. The ones no straight
man in his right mind could resist. Images of the mind-blowing sex they’d had while
she was wearing those boots flashed through his mind. Suddenly a cold shower seemed
like the best idea in the world. That and a tranquilizer shot intravenously. Nothing
short of that was going to calm the desire coursing through him.
He took a deep breath and weighed his options as the doorbell rang again. Ignore her
and hope to hell she went away and got home safely? Or answer the door, let her in,
and risk blowing a cover two years in the making and ruining Willow’s life again?
There didn’t seem any middle ground. He couldn’t rely on his self-control, which was
why he had to blow this place. Soon.
He made a split-second decision. He couldn’t leave her out there. What if someone
saw her? What if Kennett saw her? Kennett would use any weapon he could against Jack,
especially because he thought Jack was either Sariel or a SMASH assassin poaching
on his territory and trying to get to him through Willow.
No way would Jack let Willow become collateral damage. Damn, if Kennett ever had Willow
in a spot where he could harm her Jack would crack. She was his one weakness, the
one thing that affected his ability to be the perfect assassin. His one vulnerability.
He must never let the enemy know that. That’s another reason he had to leave Willow
behind. She interfered with his ability to get the job done. Though she was also the
reason he did the job in the first place.
When cornered or captured, spies were trained to take a suicide pill rather than spill
valuable intel to the enemy. Jack knew the drill. He was cornered, surrounded, and
bound by his heart. Which left him no alternative.
He grabbed his bag of chemicals, rifled through it, pulled a vial, extracted a pill,
and stared at it for half a second. Damn, this was going to hurt him way more than
Willow would get hurt. It was fast acting, too. But it couldn’t be helped. He popped
the pill without water. He had maybe ten minutes before it took effect.
He dashed down the stairs without thinking and threw open the door.
Willow looked up at him through smoky bedroom eyes, not even arching a brow in surprise
at his attire, or lack of. Her gaze traveled leisurely down the length of his body,
from his eyes with the eye black cream beneath them, down his bare chest, past his
nipples that hardened along with the rest of him under her appraising eye. He had
to resist the urge to flex his muscles like a peacock parading for his lady. Okay,
he may have flexed, a little.
Two could play the seductive stare game. Damn she looked hot in that trench coat and
tight jeans. And those tall-heeled boots to her knees. Her moist lip gloss sparkled
in the lamplight, making her lips look full and ready to be kissed, possessed. And
he wanted to possess her.
He knew what she was up to. He’d asked for this fantasy before. Why the hell hadn’t
she given it to him then, when he could have enjoyed it?
“Let me in before someone sees me.” She glanced around furtively and then smiled up
at him again in the way she used to when she had sex on the brain.
He stepped aside and let her in. But only because he knew in a few minutes there’d
be no way he could perform.
She closed the door behind her and faced him, standing too close to his personal space
in the small entryway at the bottom of the stairs leading to the guest house. “You
didn’t reply to any of my texts or direct messages. I hope you don’t think I’m a nutcase
or exaggerating. So I came to warn you in person and convince you I’m not. Someone’s
been spreading vicious rumors about you.”
“Now why would someone do such a thing?” He enjoyed letting his gaze travel down her
body. “Hot coat. Playing secret agent?” He may as well call her on her game.
Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe.”
He let his gaze travel over her again, hoping, though knowing it was bad for him,
that she wore nothing beneath that trench coat. “Halloween’s still a ways away.”
She laughed in that twinkly way that turned him on, and reached up and stroked his
cheek just below the eye black.
Her touch singed, made him hot all the way through. He had to fight to stand still
and act uninterested, hoping she didn’t notice the way his body reacted to her. Being
alone with her was dangerous business.
“Like my outfit?” She took a step back and twirled for him, pointing her foot so he
could get a good look at one of those boots that only gave him ideas he shouldn’t
have.
Oh, damn, he liked it way too much.
“I had to sneak out,” she whispered as if they were being bugged. “They’re watching
me.”
“Are you into conspiracy theories now? Who’s watching you?” he teased. He had to stall
for time. Give his pill time to work, though he dreaded the result.
“Everyone, the entire town. I’m here on a serious mission, Con. You have to believe
me. The town is up in arms. They want to throw you out. They haven’t forgiven you
for that dance performance, and that was just the beginning of your faults in their
opinion.”
“What? Charming, lovable me?” He was going to pull her chain until the end. He may
as well flirt with her and have some fun. It wouldn’t last long.
“You can’t tell me Aldo hasn’t told you about his encounter with Lettie and her gang
at my shop this morning. She’s still mad you beat her favorite at the growers’ dinner
and has been gunning for you since. Aldo had to call his
nonna
to defend your honor.
“People are saying you’re a swindler, a con man, a heartbreaker who’s out to ruin
me and run off with my bank account.”
“They’re still saying that? Even after my great-aunt defended my honor with such vigor?”
He shook his head and took a step into Willow. If he wanted her bank account, there
were easier ways to get it. “You don’t believe them?”
“No. Should I?”
He arched a brow. “I may be a bad boy, but I’d never pursue a woman for her money.”
Her eyes lit up in response. She rubbed the greasepaint she had picked up stroking
his face between her fingers. “Are you playing dress up, too?”
“Yeah, just practicing for Halloween. Trying out some looks, you know.” He should
have wiped off the eye black before answering the door. See? She messed with his head
and his concentration.
“Shirtless is a little cold for a Halloween costume around here.” She ran her hand
over his bare shoulder and down his arm, hesitating at his tattoo. “Nice tat.
Eamus catulie.
What does that mean?”
“It’s obvious you aren’t from Chicago. Go Cubs.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed
it, then took her arm. “Come on in where it’s warm.”
Oh, this was too easy and utter torment.
“Love to.” She let him lead her up the stairs.
“I’m flattered you came out on this dangerous mission just to save me. Did you walk
over? I didn’t hear a car.”
She smiled and untied the belt of her coat. “Very perceptive. Yes, I did. I like the
bracing night air.”
His breath caught for just a second as he waited for that coat to fall away. But she
was in no hurry to shed it or open it and let him see what was beneath. She was going
to torture him, too.
Well, he couldn’t act too eager. He had to be somewhat in Con’s character. “Let me
get my shirt. I’ll drive you home.” He turned toward the bedroom.
She grabbed his arm and caressed his biceps with a gentle stroke that sent a shudder
of pleasure through his entire body. “No hurry. You wouldn’t happen to have some tea
around? Something to warm me up?” She stroked his arm again, her tone heavy with suggestion.
He removed her hand from his arm before he lost his will and took her in his arms
and ravaged her right there. “Aldo has some green tea around here somewhere. I’ll
look for it.” He turned toward the kitchen.