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  The mist turned to rain, and Aidan put up his hood. The windbreaker Bree wore hung almost to her knees, and she had to take two steps for every one of his. Since she had the GPS, he tried to slow down in order for her to take the lead, but she was as anxious as him to keep on Chardy’s trail, practically running in her haste and kicking sand on him as she tugged on his hand.

  They needed a flashlight, but that would give them away. Aidan hoped the tiny light from Bree’s watch wouldn't do the same. The fog was thick enough, he doubted anyone could see it.

  Luckily, his internal sense of direction helped guide them away from the waves crashing onto the shore. As they walked north on the beach, lights from various shops also helped, though the fog dampened their illumination considerably.

  Bree’s hand was chilled and he rubbed his thumb over it, instinctively trying to warm it. She was probably freezing in nothing but the dress and windbreaker, her bare lower legs and feet now soaked. His own pant legs were wet as well, but he had more body mass and natural heat.

  He guessed they were a hundred yards north of the spa when she pulled up short. The red dot on her little map had stopped moving north and turned west.

  “What do you think he's doing?" she asked quietly.

  “Getting wet, that's for sure." Maybe the man had decided to go up the dune and hit one of the boardwalks to the main road lined with condominiums and restaurants. Through the darkness, he could see most of the shops were closed, their windows dark, but a high-rise nearby sprinkled the night sky with dim lights. Down the block, the Russian Orthodox Church stood silent, no decorations as they celebrated the birth of Christ in January, contrasting with the island’s florist, whose flashing window displays lit up the area with cheer.

  Was Chardy meeting someone at their condo? Was he just looking for a restaurant?

  Aidan wanted to believe it was as simple as that, but his gut told him differently.

  “He stopped," Bree said, material swishing as she pointed. “Twenty yards or so over there."

  They jogged in that direction and came to a set of wooden steps. Sand caked on his feet, he took the stairs two at a time ahead of Bree. On the wind, he thought he heard voices, but with the waves crashing behind him, he couldn't be sure. He put out a hand to stop her. “Stay here."

  "No." She slapped his hand away. "I'm going with you."

  It was on the tip of his tongue to remind her this could be dangerous, but she lived for danger. The warning would only make her more eager to follow.

  He returned his hand to her arm and held it firmly. “Stay behind me and if I tell you to get out of sight, you better do it."

  He could see her teeth as she smiled in the shadows. “Or what? You'll hogtie me and throw me over the boardwalk railing?"

  The lightheartedness of her tone spoke of her excitement. She thrived on this shit. He couldn't imagine her ever sitting at a desk, like her Uncle Martin, and running the spa. She’d go crazy from the day to day management and customer service. She loved adventure and danger as much as she did her sexy dresses and high heels, more so.

  “If he's meeting another involved in this sting operation, I don't want to blow his cover." And if it was someone who'd been involved in the Russian catastrophe, they might recognize him or Bree. So while she lived for danger, Aidan was determined to keep her far away from it.

  “We’re just a husband and wife out for a walk on the beach." She patted his hand, still on her arm. “Now get a move on before we miss—”

  A cry rent the air. For half a second they both froze, then broke into a run.

  The planks of the boardwalk were wet and slippery. Aidan could feel the thud of Bree's footsteps behind him. No one was out, thanks to the weather, and as they neared the opposite end, more lights cut through the fog.

  A silhouette was bent over a dark mass lying on the ground.

  Aidan reached for his gun. The figure rose, face in shadow under the hood of a jacket, and took off running.

  A few more strides and he saw the mass on the ground was a man—and dammit, he recognized Chardy.

  The blood pouring from a wound on his head looked black in the murky light. Aidan gave thought to pursuing the man running away as Bree fell to her knees to check on Etienne. A low groan came from him and Bree made soothing noises. “Don’t move. We'll get help."

  Aidan knelt beside the man. “Who was it? Who is your attacker?"

  Chardy’s eyes rolled up and his body tensed. His head lolled back and forth several times, and Aidan couldn't be sure if he was purposely shaking it no or was, indeed, having a seizure brought on by the head wound.

  Bree tapped at her watch face, dialing for help, and as the 911 call went through, she ripped a piece of fabric from the bottom of her dress. She reeled off their approximate location to the operator. “A man has been seriously injured. We need an ambulance immediately."

  Chardy grabbed her arm and tried to say something. Aidan took the fabric from her and wadded it up to hold against the wound. “I’m…sorry," he said through gritted teeth.

  The man was apologizing for betraying her as if…

  He thought he was going to die.

  She held still for a moment, staring at him. "When you're back on your feet, I'll punch you in the nose for what you did to Aidan and I, and we'll call it even, okay? Now tell me who the hell did this to you."

  He released is grip, his shaking hand going to his neck. And then, shit, white foam started coming out of the corner of his mouth, his body spasming once more.

  Bree’s eyes snapped up to Aidan’s. “Poison?”

  Aidan yanked Chardy’s hand from his neck, his arm falling limply to his side. In the gloom, he couldn't be sure but he thought he saw something. Snagging his flashlight from his pocket, he shone it on Chardy’s neck and saw a ghostly drop of blood from a tiny puncture wound.

  The attacker had not only whacked Chardy on the head, he’d injected him with something lethal.

  Chardy gasped for air, arching off the ground, eyes rolling up once more. Without knowing what type of poison, Aidan had no idea how to counteract it before the ambulance arrived.

  “Etienne!" He grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to help him weather the spasms. “Who did this to you?"

  The man's mouth moved, and only incoherent sounds came out of it. Bree leaned her ear down to his mouth. More sounds that made no sense to Aidan. There was no way to save him; whatever the poison was, it was acting fast.

  Gurgling, more foam coming from his mouth, Chardy nevertheless tried to form words. “Ma…mar…”

  Bree frowned, shifting her gaze to Aidan. He shook his head.

  “Ttt…”

  Another hard convulsion and his body went limp.

  “Shit.” Aidan motioned Bree back and began chest compressions. In the distance, he heard the sirens.

  They did their best to keep Chardy alive, but by the time the EMTs arrived, the spy had long since lost a pulse. As Aidan and Bree moved so the medics could work on him, Bree threaded her fingers through Aidan’s.

  “What kind of poison?" A female EMT called to them.

  “No idea," Aidan responded, “but we think it was injected in his neck from what he was able to convey when we found him."

  As she administered some type of medicine, her partner charged a defibrillator. Aidan and Bree watched them work on restarting his heart and counteracting the poison.

  For several tense moments, Aidan was sure Chardy was dead. Drawn by the sirens and lights, people began crowding around, despite the rain that was now falling again. A police cruiser arrived and two officers jumped out, one moving the crowd back, while the second approached the scene.

  Aidan squeezed Bree’s hand. “Let me handle this."

  For once, she didn't argue, and Aidan kept his description to the cop brief. Like Bree had suggested, he told the officer the two of them were out for a walk, heard a cry, and stumbled across the attack. No, they hadn't seen the attacker, and Aidan explained that Etienne
Chardy was a guest at the spa where he worked.

  By the time he and Bree finished giving their statements, the EMTs were loading Chardy into the back of the ambulance. An oxygen mask was over his mouth.

  “Is he alive?" Bree called to the female medic.

  “Barely.” She nodded at the two of them. “Good work. If it hadn't been for you, he wouldn't be breathing right now."

  “You think he'll make it?" Aidan asked.

  Her face said no as she climbed in, but she was a professional. “We’ll do everything we can for him."

  The crowd began to drift off and the officer they’d spoken to passed by with a warning. “We’ll be in touch if we have other questions. Don't leave town."

  Bree’s face was a mask as they stood and watched it pull away. “Now what?"

  He didn't need to ask what she was referring to. Chardy was his way in with the Russian spy ring. He was the transporter to pick up Vaslov. Bree didn’t even know that part—that Vaslov was within spitting distance if the intel was accurate. Without Chardy, Aidan would never uncover the names and identities of the others.

  Aidan needed to be sure Chardy was under security at the hospital. Whoever had done this might've been watching and realized he’d failed. At least, for the moment.

  Most likely, the double agent would die, but the killer couldn't be sure he hadn't shared a name or some identifying information.

  “Let’s get back to the spa," he told her, scanning what was left of the crowd. “It’s going to be a long night."

  The rain pelted down on them as they turned to retrace their footsteps. They were silent the whole time, Joey meeting them at the door.

  “What the hell happened?" he asked, holding the door as they came in. "I heard it on the scanner."

  Aidan gave him the watered down version he'd told the cop. Joey narrowed his eyes, as if he didn't quite believe it, then he nodded. “That sucks, man. The guy was kind of a ball buster, but what a horrible way to go. Who would do that to him?"

  Aidan shrugged, wishing he knew. He and Bree were both soaking wet, still barefoot, and had a lot to discuss. The night clerk behind the desk offered to bring them towels from the back room, but Aidan waved her off. He drew Bree away from Joey, toward the elevators. “If the police come by to check his room notify me immediately. No one goes in their without me."

  Another nod. "You got it, boss."

  Before they made it to the elevators, Bree took his hand and changed their direction.

  “Where are we going?"

  Her face was drawn, eyes hard. “To see my uncle."

  “Don’t you want to cleanup first? Get out of those wet clothes?”

  "No," she said. “What I want to know is why he just tried to kill one of our guests."

  Wilderness of mirrors

  * * *

  Bree stood outside Uncle Martin’s door, feeling slightly ashamed of herself.

  “You really think he had something to do with this?” Aidan asked beside her. “You can’t be serious.”

  God she felt horrible. But she would feel worse if Martin was actually involved. Who else knew about Aidan’s assignment? “I couldn’t make out for sure what Chardy said, but the syllables… I could put together as ‘Martin.”

  Aidan shook his head, fingers rubbing tired eyes. “Why would he kill…?”

  The door swung open and Uncle Martin stood there with Princess Gracie in one arm. He looked them over from head to toe, the sight of their wet hair, Bree’s torn dress, and their dirty feet made his eyebrows rise. “What the hell happened to you two?”

  “Can we come in?” Bree asked.

  He swept back and motioned them in. His suite on the third floor faced west over the island and was half the size of the penthouse. It was decorated like it was on the Caribbean coast rather than the Texan one with flamboyant colors and a unique style that matched the man himself.

  He was dressed in a turquoise and black pajama outfit with a matching robe. His feet were in slippers, and Princess Gracie wore a nightgown in the same colors.

  “Did you happen to go for a walk on the beach tonight?” Bree questioned him. She noticed his hair was dry, the chihuahua’s long, black and white fur was as well.

  “Yes.” He glanced between her and Aidan. “Are you two okay?”

  Aidan crossed his arms over his chest. “Why?”

  “I took Gracie for her evening constitutional, like I always do.”

  “In the rain?” Bree responded.

  “We both wore our raincoats. What’s going on?”

  “Did you meet any of our guests while you were on your walk?” Aidan asked, sounding every bit the interrogator.

  Martin took a step back and looked both of them over again, the wheels in his head turning. “What is this? Are you two questioning me for a reason?”

  That sick feeling in Bree’s stomach returned. “Etienne Chardy was attacked on the boardwalk half a mile north of here. Someone hit him over the back of the head, and once he was incapacitated, they injected poison into his system.”

  Martin’s face deflated. He hugged Gracie a little tighter and walked to his recliner, dropping into it and rubbing a hand over his face. The recliner was a cherry red color, clashing with his ensemble. Bree sat across from him on the edge of the couch leaning onto her elbows. “Did Aidan tell you who this man really is?”

  Martin shot a look at her. “Yes, and if he’s dead, I won’t cry over it. He betrayed you and Aidan and nearly got you both killed. In my book, he deserves whatever he got.”

  “Uncle Martin—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “I can’t believe you’d even think so poorly of me. Are you actually accusing me of doing such a thing?”

  She couldn’t quite believe she was either. “He was able to get out a couple syllables before he become unconscious,” she told him. “They could combine to make the first part of your name. That’s the only reason I’m asking if you had anything to do with this.”

  His brows rose higher than she’d ever seen them go, and he looked as if she’d slapped him. “Why would I kill the man, other than for revenge, which you would then kick my ass for?”

  On the TV, the holiday classic, White Christmas played, and in the back of her mind, Bree remembered it was her mother’s favorite. The queasy stomach paled in comparison to the pain in her heart at seeing the actors on screen and remembering her mom singing along with them.

  Blinking away tears, she refocused on her uncle. “You knew Aidan was running an undercover sting with Chardy, right?”

  Uncle Martin waved a hand around. “I didn’t know the details, and I don’t want to. Aidan said it had something to do with taking out the leader of the spy ring the two of you were after when all that awful stuff went down in Russia. That’s all I needed to know. I swear to you I had nothing to do with what happened to that double crossing piece of crap.”

  The leader of the spy ring? Wait… Aidan hadn't said anything about that.

  Bree looked at her husband, saw the tense stance and studious eyes, his insightful stare sizing up her uncle. "This has to do with Vaslov?”

  Aidan only nodded, jaw clenched.

  For half a second, she couldn't think, couldn't breathe. This put a whole new spin on things, and once again, she felt a horrible disheartenment that Aidan hadn't told her the whole truth.

  “I have to call this in,” Aidan said, heading for the door.

  “Is he dead?” Uncle Martin asked. Princess Gracie wasn’t sure if Martin was upset or ready to relax. She turned circles in his lap, eyeing him, jumping at his chest.

  The poor dog was as confused as Bree. “We thought we lost him, but Aidan did CPR, and resuscitated him until the EMTs arrived. They were taking him to the hospital, but we doubt he’ll make it through the night.”

  “I’ll keep you posted, sir,” Aidan said over his shoulder as he walked out.

  Bree stood and gave her uncle an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for the accusation. Just trying to
get my bearings with all of this.”

  He sniffed, as much a diva as Gracie. “I suppose I’ll let you make it up to me in the morning.”

  She had no idea for sure what he was going to require, but she knew it would be a doozy.

  She caught up with Aidan at the elevator, riding to the fourth floor in silence. Hoping he had a good reason for not telling her about Vaslov—well, she knew why he’d kept that piece of the puzzle to himself. To protect me.

  It always came back to that. She wanted to be mad, but found she didn’t have it in her. Lately, she wondered if she did, indeed, need protection. From herself as much as anyone else.

  They stood in front of Chardy’s room, Aidan using his keycard to access it.

  “I thought you had to call your handler, or whoever’s in charge of this sting operation.”

  “I do.” He opened the door and walked in. “But I figured you might want to remove anything you put in here before the detectives show to look at the man’s personal belongings.

  Good thinking. She was also going to grab Chardy’s laptop. “I didn’t get to check the safe,” she said. “Can you get into it?”

  Aidan rolled his eyes, as if it were child’s play, then pulled his cell from his back pocket and started texting.

  Bree had planted three listening devices, so she went to the various rooms collecting them. She brushed her stringy wet hair out of her face and looked for the laptop. When she’d been here earlier, it had sat on the desk in the far corner, but now it was empty except for a landline.

  She started to follow Aidan to the cabinet where the safe was to see if it was in there, but his phone rang, and when he looked at the caller ID, he said, “I need to take this.”

  He strode across the room and went onto the balcony, closing the patio door behind him securely and giving her a look that told her in no uncertain terms she was not to eavesdrop.

  Of course, that’s exactly what she planned to do.

  She had to be subtle, so she continued searching for a moment where he could see her before she disappeared into the bedroom. Since she didn’t see the laptop in there either, she went to the matching balcony door across from the bed and stayed behind the curtain, pressing her ear as close to the glass as she could in hopes of overhearing what Aidan was saying to his handler.