Man Down Page 7

  Her phone buzzed and she answered without turning to look at him. “Yes?” There was a slight pause. “Oh sure. I'm a little tied up at the moment, but I'll be there shortly."

  Finally, she faced him. "Loretta is done with the flower arranging, and Megan wants me to check the decorations before the group calls it quits.”

  “Guess that's my cue to leave then." He punched the elevator button once more and the doors slid open. “I’ll see you at seven."

  She didn't offer to ride down with him, which disappointed him, but he knew she needed to work through whenever the hell was going on with her. She was pissed about him working for the CIA again, and the mission. He wished he could bring her in on it; she knew the players even better than he did. It was late in the game, though. Too late to get clearance or change the plan.

  Bree would never go for it anyway. While she certainly might want to help him stop Vaslov and his new spy ring—and maybe exact a little revenge for both of them—her distrust and anger at the Agency would keep her from fully participating. He knew her, regardless of their estrangement. She claimed to want to be in on it, but he suspected her motives included a little revenge on the Agency as well.

  He understood that motivation, even though he didn't share it. The CIA did a lot of crappy things, but they also did some incredible things to keep the country safe. As a former SEAL, he’d done the same.

  Aidan just hoped Bree never found out the real reason the CIA had retired her. If she did, the torture he’d survived in Russia would be nothing compared to what she’d do to him.

  On the take

  * * *

  The minute Aidan left, Bree returned Rory’s call. “Sorry about that. I had company."

  “Figured as much. What do you want me to do? Is that your guy or not?"

  She stood at the patio doors watching the storm. Fog rolled in off the water, and the rain drenched everything. A diehard beachcomber walked the sand in a yellow slicker and boots. Waves rolled up high on the beach, one right after the other. “No,” she lied, "but the photo you sent—I knew him back in my Agency days. This guest reminded me of him, that's all."

  Rory had probably already made the connection, but she hoped he’d drop it anyway. He had dozens of missions on his plate he was running intel for. Most likely, he would be happy to let this one go, especially since it was not part of her assignment. “You need anything else, then?"

  Bree pulled the keycard she'd lifted from Aidan out of her dress pocket and examined it. It was a master that could open any door in the place. She wasn't sure how long she had before he figured out it was missing, so she had to move quickly. "I need a little help blocking some security cameras."

  Rory chuckled. “Do I want to know why?"

  She tossed the keycard on the table and touched her lips. They tingled from Aidan’s ardent kisses. “It would be better if you don't."

  She heard the tap of fingers on a keyboard. ”Your uncle’s system is closed circuit. If you want help from my end, you have to get me in first.”

  It was a risk, since he’d have to report to Beatrice eventually, but she had to know what Chardy was planning. Regardless if Aidan wanted her help or not, she had to watch his back. Chardy could not be trusted. ”How do I do that?"

  She listened carefully as he explained, and then she left her room and went to work.

  At six-thirty, Bree tapped the SFI app on her phone and caused the camera in the hallway outside Aidan’s room to malfunction. She knew from Joey that Aidan was showering before their dinner. She needed two minutes to sneak in and replace the keycard in his jacket.

  Thanks to Rory's help, she’d managed to avoid the cameras and get into Chardy’s suite to plant several listening devices while the man was downstairs getting a massage. She'd even plugged a USB into his laptop and downloaded the contents. Later tonight, she’d review the files and make sure there was nothing suggesting he was double crossing Aidan or the CIA. She still wanted to clone his phone, but he’d taken that with him, so it would have to wait.

  For now, she needed to return the keycard and slip back out without notice if possible. Joey and Aidan had been preoccupied during her snooping, trying to figure out what was wrong with the security cameras, and she hoped between that and everything that had happened with her and Aidan earlier today, he was too distracted to notice his key was missing.

  She pressed an ear against the door to his room. The muffled sounds of a shower running filtered through, along with noise from a television. She continued to listen for another moment, trying to catch the fall of footsteps or anything to suggest he was not in the bathroom. Reassured he was indeed occupied, she knocked lightly. When there was no response, she slipped the keycard in and was rewarded when the light turned green.

  The room was sparse, light from the basketball game on the TV dancing across the bed. He'd always been a neat freak, probably because of his days in the Navy, and she was surprised to see his jacket and pants casually thrown on the unmade bed.

  His phone was next to a closed laptop and some files on the desk across from a sitting area. Two pairs of shoes sat by the door, several suits and casual shirts hung in the half open closet. On the floor rested a dry cleaning bag filled to the brim.

  As she tiptoed to his jacket on the bed, a photo on the nightstand caught her attention. She stopped in mid-slink, breath catching in her chest.

  There were the two of them grinning at the camera as they held up their ring fingers. The matching bands were cheap ones Aidan had found in a souvenir store. He’d promised to buy her a real one as soon as he returned from his next mission, but she hadn't cared. She'd been drunk and hurting over the loss of her mom. He'd been a knight in shining armor, sweeping her off her feet and making her laugh instead of cry. The weekend had been a whirlwind, the first time she'd let go in so long.

  Monday had come too fast, and she'd wanted to stay in Vegas, pretend she didn't have to go back and deal with her mother's will, handle the world without her biggest supporter.

  All of it came crashing back in that moment as she stood frozen in the middle of the room. She still hadn't looked through the box of ornaments Aidan had found. While she knew every last one of them, she wanted to wait until she had a moment to herself before she went through them. The memories were old, but the deep grief was always right there, close to the surface, and there was no opening that box without tapping into that grief once more.

  In the years since, Aidan had been the only one to numb it, to keep it at bay. Bree always threw herself into her work when the grief demon raised its ugly head, but the truth was, the only time she’d found relief was in Aidan's arms.

  It had been a ridiculous fool’s game to marry him in Vegas, and she'd filed an annulment, but it had never gone through. Before she could straighten anything out, he’d gone dark—a SEAL mission had taken him out of the country for weeks. When he returned, she was out of the country on her own mission for the Agency. Along the way, they never seemed to connect long enough to file for divorce, and the couple times she’d hunted him down to try and talk about it, he'd always ended up making her laugh and believing their marriage might stand a chance.

  And then after the death of a close friend on a mission in Syria, Aidan left the SEALs. It was her turn to comfort him and she’d done it out of a sense of duty, as well as love.

  But they were more different than alike, and acting as a married couple ended up with them fighting all the time. He'd stayed on the West Coast and she’d gone to the East, not seeing him for months. When he’d shown up at the Farm for training, she’d nearly lost it. What the hell was he thinking?

  She couldn't protect him, couldn't fail him, and within a few months they were both in Russia.

  Fishing the band on the necklace out from between her breasts, she held it for a moment wishing she could go back to that weekend. There was so damn much pain between them, she’d convinced herself the only thing they truly shared was grief. The only times when they weren�
�t fighting had been when they were nursing each other through it. You couldn't build a strong marriage on that, could you?

  She shook her head, returning the necklace to its hiding spot. Creeping the rest of the way to the bed, she bent forward and slid the keycard into the inside breast pocket of Aidan's jacket. The scent of his cologne wafted up to her nose, the memory of his lips and hands sending heat through her.

  She had no idea what might happen during their dinner, and she still planned to recruit him for Beatrice, but it didn't stop her from being worried about him. The CIA, Chardy, the Russians… who was playing who in this scenario?

  Still bent over and stroking the jacket, she froze mentally and cursed when she heard the bathroom door open, the sound of the shower getting louder.

  She felt his presence behind her left shoulder and bit her bottom lip.

  “Is there something I can help you with, darling? If you're that eager to get in my bed, you should've said something sooner."

  Slowly, she glanced at him over her shoulder and straightened. Goosebumps ran over her skin at the sight of him in nothing more than a towel as he leaned on the doorjamb.

  Her eyes widened and words escaped her. He was every bit as buff as he’d been in the SEALs, as sexy as the last time she'd seen him naked. The beautiful muscles, the flat belly, the tattoos that covered his chest and arms.

  She blinked once, then again. This is what got her in trouble. She'd confront him, planning to get her way about something, and then he'd smile, kiss her silly, and take off his clothes.

  It just wasn't fair.

  He pushed off the door frame and sauntered across the room toward her. His hair was damp and he smelled fresh and clean. He brushed against her as he leaned over to grab the jacket. His fingers fished into the breast pocket and brought out the keycard. He held it under her nose, looking down into her eyes with a smirk on his face. “Sure you don't need more time to spy on our guest?"

  “I, uh…” She swallowed hard. "You knew?"

  He tossed the jacket and the key card onto the bed. "I wanted to believe it was my charm that made you attack me in the elevator, but once a spy always a spy, right?"

  Damn. "I only did it because I'm worried, Aidan."

  He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. "I know. Plus, you're just damn nosy."

  Her brain blanked with her head resting against his chest, his heartbeat filling her ear. The temptation to rip off the towel was so great she could hardly swallow. “You’re not going to yell at me?"

  He chuckled and she felt it through her whole system. “I’ve found that tactic to be ineffective with you.” His fingers locked around both her wrists. “I’ve decided instead to tie you up and keep you in my room until the mission is over.”

  Six

  Mission Impossible

  * * *

  The look on Bree's face was priceless. She gasped and tried to jerk away. “Let go of me."

  He held on and hustled her to a chair before gently shoving her into it. "I'm kidding, but don't push it, or I will until I take out this spy ring."

  Her gold eyes pleaded with him. "A, I want to help."

  He had a weakness for those eyes, that look. He felt it all the way to his toes. As if she knew, her gaze dropped to his lower half and his cock gave a little kick. He saw her bite the inside of her lip.

  Standing there in nothing but a towel, it was a struggle to keep his mind off her full mouth and what it had done to certain parts of his anatomy in the past. His body urged him to snatch her up and bend her over the table—she’d seemed willing enough earlier, but then again, maybe she just wanted to steal his keycard.

  That was always the problem—he never knew for sure what she was after, hiding, or how she felt about him. Part of it was the fact she's been trained as a spy, the other because she simply didn't share herself with anyone. She'd admitted that to him long ago. After she lost her mother, who was also her best friend, she never believed she could find anyone she could love and trust as much. Not even her Uncle Martin, whom she adored. She’d admitted it was a flaw in her system, one she couldn't get over no matter how she tried.

  He moved heaven and hell to prove to her she could trust him, and done everything he could to try and understand this quirk in her personality. After all the psychological training as a spy, he believed it had something to do with her father and the fact he'd died when she was only seven. He and Bree's mother apparently had fallen in love at first sight and enjoyed an amazing marriage until the Marine was killed in action. Aidan believed it wasn't so much that Bree didn't trust people, she simply didn't trust life not to snatch away those she loved, unexpectedly.

  She came out of the chair and stood right in front of him. She’d changed into another dress, this one a deep purple, and four inch heels. She was still a good six inches shorter than him and he held still as he looked down into her eyes, her hands tracing over the tattoo on his chest. “Please, Aidan. I don't trust Moreau, and you shouldn't either. I have a team with considerable skills and resources outside the CIA that I can call on to help make sure you don't get burned by him or the Agency. I won't interfere with whatever you have planned, just let me do some digging and back you up."

  She smelled like flowers and cinnamon, her fingers light and teasing on his pecs. It was hard to concentrate. “Who do you work for now?"

  “An independent group that specializes in everything from paramilitary operations to undercover missions here in the states and abroad."

  “Sanctioned by the government?"

  Her gaze dropped to his chest and she gave a little shrug. “Some.”

  Meaning most weren’t.

  "We help people who have nowhere else to turn,” she continued. “Those in sticky situations with the government, others who can't go to traditional law enforcement for help or protection."

  It was all he could do not to touch her. Doing so might break the spell. “Does this organization have a name?"

  “Are you going to let me help you?"

  Everything was a negotiation with her. “Is the name top-secret?"

  “The organization is, and the specific group I work for within it is at an even higher level."

  Damn. He had a feeling she was telling the truth. “Why did they send you?"

  Her fingers trailed down the center of his chest, to his belly button, then to the top of the towel, making him suck in his breath. “Why do you think? I just came to see Uncle Martin."

  That was a lie, and she was using the art of distraction to cover it. He grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her from touching his hip bone where the towel was slung low. “Tell me who they are and why they sent you."

  Her gaze came back up to meet his, hard and calculating. "I planned to all along but knowing that you're working for the Agency again changes my plan."

  "I told you, it's one mission, Bree. I'm only doing it to shut down this fucking spy ring once and for all." The pulse in her wrist was featherlight under his thumb as he stroked the tiny bones there. “The only two things that get me out of bed in the morning are the plan to save our marriage and the other to hunt down the Russian spies who got away from us the last time."

  “Did I hear you right? You really want to save our marriage?"

  “Yes, but I realized a while ago it’s not about that anymore. Bottom line, I want you to be happy. If that means staying away from me, then I'll learn to live with it, but I'll never give up hope that someday you'll come back to me."

  “Aidan, I…"

  A knock at the door interrupted her and they both jumped apart. "Room service!"

  “You ordered room service for dinner?" she asked. "I thought I was taking you out, that was the deal, wasn't it? I had to pay?"

  He headed for the bathroom, figuring he better get dressed. “If you want in on the operation, then dinner is served here tonight."

  She stood there, looking slightly stunned. “You planned this all along, didn't you?"

  He grinned at her over
his shoulder in the bathroom doorway. “Could you get it? I don't want to answer it in just a towel."

  Her eyes dropped to the towel again and he chuckled before he closed the door behind him.

  When he emerged a few minutes later, the table was set with a feast of steak, lobster, French fries—her favorite—and two gourmet Caesar salads, a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice next to the table. She sat in a chair, one long leg crossed over the other and her shoes kicked off near the bed. She was on her cell, but upon seeing him, she ended the conversation and tucked the phone away.

  “Apparently my uncle got wind of our dinner together and sent the champagne."

  The bottle had been uncorked and Aidan went to work pouring. He handed a glass to her and raised his own in salute. “To dinner between a couple of spies."

  She clinked hers against his. “To profitable new partnerships between a husband and wife."

  A flare of hope took root in his chest. He imagined what it would've been like if Russia had never happened. The two of them going undercover together, seeing the world, protecting their country. “I’ll let you in as long as you stay out of my way, and tell me the details about this organization you work for."

  She swung her crossed leg back and forth and smiled at him as if she had a secret. “Promise me you're done with the Agency after this. Cross your heart, swear on the Bible, open a vein and make a blood oath—I don't care—just swear this is your last and final mission for them, and I will tell you everything about the company I work for."

  The bubbles tickled the back of his throat. She was always champagne and lobster to his beer and peanuts. Setting down his glass, he took her by the hand and drew her out of the chair, bringing her once more in front of him. Looking down into her eyes, he said, "I swear to you this is my last and final mission for the CIA."

  And then he sealed it with a kiss.

  She tasted like champagne and excitement. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she slipped her tongue into his mouth. They stayed that way for a long time, both exploring each other gently, as if the fragile agreement between them could be broken if they moved too fast, too recklessly.